Page 60 of To Dance with a Devil

“Oh, Jerome, I thought we were going to—”

Jerome didn’t give his madcap wife a moment more to remonstrate but simply backed her up against the nearest wall and kissed her until she was breathless.

“You’ve caused quite enough of a stir for one evening,” he told her, when he finally came up for air, trying his best to sound like a stern husband who ought to be obeyed. Bonnie simply snickered.

“We’ll cause a deal more of a stir if anyone catches us like this,” she said, raising one eyebrow as she gestured to her breeches and tailcoat.

Jerome snorted despite himself. “You are, without a doubt, the most provoking creature I have ever come across. It’s a good job I married you. No one else could have possibly kept you in line.”

Bonnie blinked up at him, her eyes wide and innocent. “What makes you think you can do it?”

Hiding his smile, Jerome ducked his head and nuzzled her neck whilst his nimble fingers made short work of the buttons on her breeches. He slid his hand beneath the fall, seeking out the feathery triangle of soft curls between her thighs as Bonnie’s breath hitched.

“This,” he murmured, kissing the tender place beneath her ear and trailing his lips along her jaw to her mouth as his fingers slid lower. The faint sounds of the orchestra were still audible, but the party seemed a long, long way away now as he caressed her.

“Oh,” Bonnie said, her head falling back as her eyes closed.

“Bonnie,” Jerome whispered, giddy with desire, with the nearness of her, the warmth and the scent of her. He slid his fingers into her wet heat and felt his own breath catch as she gasped. “I’m mad for you, you wicked girl. I’ve thought of nothing but you since that night at Green Park. You were lit up brighter than any of the fireworks, did you know that? The sky was full of colours and light and I couldn’t see anything but you. You dazzled me, and I’ve still not recovered.”

She opened heavy-lidded eyes and focused on him. “Please, don’t recover,” she murmured. “I don’t want you to come to your senses.”

“I shan’t,” he promised, unbuttoning her waistcoat with his free hand. “I couldn’t if I wanted to, and I don’t want to. There’s no cure for you, Bonnie, and I thank God for that.”

As he tugged her shirt free, he also thanked God that she hadn’t bound her breasts as tightly as the last time. With one deft tug, he loosened the edge of the binding and freed the end. It took a few moments pulling and cursing but then her splendid breasts were mercifully freed, and he pushed the shirt up and out of the way.

“Lovely,” he murmured, before pressing his lips to the generous mounds, kissing along the full curves before dragging his tongue over her nipple until she sighed and made an incoherent sound of need. He took pity and suckled first one breast, then the other, as she squirmed, and his fingers caressed her intimate flesh until she was moaning and helpless beneath his touch.

“And here I was thinking I’d have a queen to command me,” he murmured, smiling against her skin as she panted. “Though I admit, these breeches are easier to access than acres of skirts and petticoats.”

“I c-can still command you,” she said, the challenge audible in her voice, faint as it was.

“Oh? And what would you have of me?” he asked, excitement shivering over him.

“I think,” she murmured, her dark, desire-hazed eyes glinting in the dim light of the room. “You should kneel for me.”

Jerome gave a wicked chuckle and wasted no time in obeying. He dragged the breeches from her legs, freeing her as she held the shirt out of his way. The sound she made, desperate and wanton as he touched her with his tongue made desire burst inside him like the firework he’d compared her too. It glittered through his blood, making him ache with need, making his heart pound with elation and joy, a heady combination that Bonnie alone had the recipe for. Good Lord but she was audacious and fearless: his beautiful wife, his madcap, naughty girl.

She was bold, too, too bold perhaps as the sounds she made became louder and ever less restrained. She glared at him as he sat back on his heels and tugged her to the floor.

“You are so noisy,” he said, barely containing his own laughter as she huffed and muttered at him. “You’ll be heard above the noise of the orchestra if you keep on.”

“Well, what did you expect,” she grumbled, “when you do that?”

Jerome showed her exactly what he expected of her, tumbling her onto her back and fumbling with his own buttons with unsteady fingers. Exhilaration coursed through him and he muffled his own cry of triumph against her skin as he slid inside her. As he loved her with his mouth and hands and body it became clear that Bonnie was incapable of discretion, so he softened the decadent sounds she made with kisses until the final cry which he prayed no one else had heard over the din of the ballroom. He laughed then, rolling off her and onto his back, tugging her with him as the laughter bubbled up inside him and the ridiculous joy of it, of life with her, made him helpless with mirth.

“You’re mad,” Bonnie said, propping herself up on one arm and staring down at him with amusement.

“Mad for you,” he said, breathless still as he reached a hand up and tangled his fingers in her short, dark curls.

“It’s not blonde,” she said with a sigh of regret, tugging at one of the curls and squinting sideways at it. She gave a rueful smile as she looked over the generous curves and valleys of her body. “And I’m no sylphlike lady. I was in need of rescuing, though,” she added, brightening. “So there’s that at least.”

“What are you wittering on about?” he asked, bemused.

“The woman of your dreams,” she said, a flicker of something uncertain visible in her eyes. “Everyone told me I wasn’t your type. That you always fell for fragile looking blondes in need of rescuing.”

Jerome stared up at her. He supposed the words were true enough. He’d thought the same not so long ago, yet it felt like a lifetime.

“You are everything I dream of, Bonnie,” he said, his voice low. “But so much better, because you’re real, and you’re so much more than I realised I wanted or needed.” He reached out and filled his hand with her breast, squeezing a little. “So much more,” he added, with a sly grin as she squealed and laughed. He rolled her over onto her back again and stared down at her, dazed with his own good fortune. “Thank God for you, Bonnie. For being brave enough and strong enough to show me what I needed. If you hadn’t….” His voice quavered a little, and he gave a soft huff of laughter. “I love you, you dreadful girl, don’t ever change. I love you just as you are, even though you’ll turn my hair grey. Let’s have lots of children, and lots of laughter, and as much chaos as any couple can possibly handle.”