Hugo and the Maiden by S.M. LaViolette & Minerva Spencer

Author:S.M. LaViolette & Minerva Spencer [LaViolette, S.M. & Spencer, Minerva]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Crooked Sixpence Press
Published: 2021-05-29T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter 22

His body tighten beneath Martha’s hand; it thrilled her that she could make such a strong, powerful man feel so deeply.

But it also pained her that he didn’t love her or trust her enough to tell her the truth about himself. But the thought of living without him—no matter what he had done or might do in the future—pained her more.

“Yes, I’ll marry you, Hugo Buckingham.”

One minute they were sitting side by side, the next Martha was lying on her back, Hugo looming over her, his hands planted on either side of her shoulders.

“Martha,” he whispered, giving a slight, wondering shake of his head. “You need to understand what you will be getting. What you saw me doing that night? Fisting myself? That’s me, Martha. I’m crass and earthy and I like being that way. I’m not a gentleman—I’m not … couth. I don’t like furtive trysting in the dark—I like fucking in all its forms.”

She gasped.

Hugo nodded, as though she’d said something. “And I like saying the word fuck—and cruder words besides. I won’t be the kind of husband to visit you weekly and mount you in darkness. I want to know every part of your body, intimately, and I want you to learn all about mine.”

His eyes roamed her face. “I’ve never had a lover before.” He chuckled when her eyes bulged. “No, I don’t mean that I’m a virgin. What I mean is that I’ve never been with anyone that mattered, anyone I cared about.”

Martha’s heart leapt; caring wasn’t love, but it was better than nothing. Was that pathetic? Perhaps, but she would take what she could get.

“I know what you are like, Hugo. Do you think I don’t? You are irreverent, clever, and, yes, vulgar—but I like you just as you are. You don’t have to—”

He crushed her mouth with his, the kiss savage and hungry. Martha opened to him and slid her hands into his thick, wiry hair. He kissed her until they were both breathless and then nuzzled her chin to tilt her head back, lowering his mouth over the base of her throat and sucking.

She pushed herself against him, unable to get close enough, one hand gripping his neck and pulling him tight while the other stroked the impossibly hard lines of his shoulders and back. Only when his hair tickled the top of her breast did she realize that he’d opened the wooden buttons on her dress.

“Up a bit,” he said as he tugged both the bodice and worn chemise down her shoulders. She shivered, and not just from the cool night air. “I’ll warm you,” he murmured, and then something unspeakably soft caressed her nipple. “Martha.” The word was a damp, hot whisper against the tight pucker of flesh.

A soft grunt of pleasure slipped from her mouth as he sucked her nipple, not stopping until it was a hard, needy bud. Her body arched in wanton invitation, pure pleasure driving away any self-consciousness.

“Touch me.” He took her wrist and guided her hand beneath his untucked shirt.

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