She smiled as she found her own rhythm. Her hands clutched around him, her lips on his in a wild kiss.
Their dalliances on the road to Gretna Green were just the beginning of Delia discovering her own pleasure, and she loved every moment of it.
“Hunt,” she cried out, thankful that the rest of their family’s rooms were not near their chambers.
It was difficult being newly wedded and living with Hunt’s mother and both their sisters in one house, but it also was nice to have a family. A fun, loving, annoying family, especially with the addition of Reg. There was never a lack of excitement around the house.
“Ride my cock, hellion,” he growled against her lips.
Her sex pulsed around him, trying to keep him inside of her forever. “Yes! Harder,” she demanded, bouncing up and down on his member.
He kissed a path from her lips to her neck, biting gently. Her body shook, then stilled.
“Fuck, that’s it,” he said, pounding up into her, as Delia struggled to breathe.
The complete ecstasy would not stop, as her body convulsed on top of him, her sex flooding him with her essence. All Delia could do was grip her husband tight until it stopped.
“Delia,” he groaned, burrowing his face in her neck. She tightened her hold on him as her body was rocked with another climax.
They held each other in the cooling water. Delia’s heart was overflowing with love for this man who was much more than what Society thought of him.
“I love you,” she said, kissing his whiskered jaw.
“And I love you, my hellion.” His hand smoothed back her wild hair.
Delia swallowed, wanting to take advantage of the moment. “Hunt, I?—”
Knock. Knock.
“My lady, the dowager bid me to inform you that the guests are starting to arrive,” Jenny said, from the other side of the bathing chamber’s door.
They were having a small garden party for her twenty-sixth birthday. It was nearly the end of the London Season, and soon, they were going to go to Devon, to the March ancestral home, Albertus Manor. Delia was both thrilled and terrified.
She sighed in frustration before removing herself from her husband. “You’ve made me late to my own birthday party,” she told him, a wide smile on her face.
He kissed her nose, a wicked gleam in those hypnotic green eyes of his. “Am I supposed to feel bad about that?”
Delia thought for a moment, pretending like she was upset with him.
“Never.”
The sun beamed unusually bright on the small garden party. A few chosen friends had come to celebrate Hunt’s wife. Delia beamed in the center of a small group of societal women, who had openly accepted her despite the circumstances of her birth. Her sister, Margaret, was among them. Her reputation had been tarnished by her adventure with Augustus, but afterHunt increased her dowry, some suitable suitors had shown an interest.
As for his wayward cousin—brother, Augustus was shipped to New South Wales for theft and garnering debt by impersonating a member of the peerage.
The news that Augustus was his father’s son shocked his sister so much that she was speechless, for once in her life. His mother, however, did not flutter a single eyelash, when Hunt informed her.
Hunt smiled as he strolled over to the refreshment table, where his mother, sister, and Reg were.
“I don’t think I will ever get accustomed to you being this happy,” Helen said, taking a grape and popping it into her mouth.
“It really is difficult to get used to,” Reg agreed, slapping Hunt on the back.
Hunt shook his head, not bothered at all by his sister nor his friend’s comments. He was happy, happier than he’d ever been in his life. And it was all due to the woman across the green lawn.
“Well, I for one am thrilled that my son found happiness,” his mother said, gripping her cane tight. “I believe there is much more to come.” There was a knowing twinkle in her eye.
Hunt raised an eyebrow at her comment, finding it odd.
