Delilah laughed as he stared forlornly at the now-empty paper. “Delicious, aren’t they? Wickham’s Confectionery is indeed the best in London.”
“Unquestionably,” Bennett replied, as he brushed sugar from his fingers. “I want each and every sweet here.”
Mrs. Wickham grinned. “Tis always a difficult choice in the end…I am ashamed to have this many options, however business has been a bit slower since two more confectioners opened nearby. We like the space here; the children sleep safely upstairs and the kitchen is excellent. My husband is in there now creating spun sugar masterpieces, little figurines shaped like cats and so forth. Also cocks. Delilah sends a regular order for those.”
“Spun sugar cocks to suck and marzipan breasts to nibble,” added Delilah with a wink. “I must give my patrons what they want.”
His lips twitched. “I’ll leave the risqué items to my shopping companion here, Mrs. Wickham, however I refuse to choose, so I shall purchase everything else.”
The confectioner stilled and stared at him, her eyes widening. “Everything?”
“Yes. I have, er, a large family. And I know they would greatly enjoy a wide variety. Perhaps you could wrap and box the sweets to aid in transportation?” Bennett finished, before reaching into his money purse, withdrawing a gold guinea, and placing it on the counter. “For your trouble.”
Mrs. Wickham pressed a hand to her chest. Then she turned to the doorway behind her and bellowed, “Mr. Wickham!”
A brawny black man wearing a full-length white apron over his clothing came running out. When he saw Delilah, his alarm eased into a smile.
“My second favorite businesswoman. How wonderful to see you on this chilly day. But who is your friend here?”
“Save the Papa Wickham interrogation for later,” said his wife. “I need paper and boxes. Mr. Innsworth is buying all our sweets. For a guinea.”
“Oh! I see.”
With expert efficiency, the couple prepared Bennett’s order. Yet they continually bantered back and forth, sometimes offering suggestions or praising the other’s work. It made his heart hurt, for years ago his own parents had shared a similar closeness. Nowadays Mother preferred to stay in the country, and with Judith married, he didn’t have anyone in the townhouse to talk to like that. Which wasn’t a bother, of course. He didn’t need a life companion. Just a wife for heirs and to escort to balls…
Bah. You want far more than that. More days like today, strolling arm in arm with Delilah while you teased and talked for hours; a woman you can confide in without feeling like a fool.
Bennett frowned under the guise of adjusting his borrowed spectacles. Where had that nonsense thought come from? He admired Delilah, wanted her with an urgency that kept him awake at night, but nothing beyond that. Certainly not feelings of a tender nature. These sensibilities could only be blamed on the Wickham’s too-perfect sweet shop. Or perhaps wretched December. Christmastide looming closer. The shocking weather.
Probably all of the above.
If he could just get back to the carriage and be alone with Delilah, slake the fervent lust that had sparked in her parlor, everything would return to normal. All these jumbled thoughts about himself, his family, the trustees, and the marriage list, would untangle and become clear as a mountain stream.
“Here you are, Mr. Innsworth,” said Mr. Wickham, thankfully interrupting his reverie as he placed a large stack of stamped boxes on the countertop. “From my family to yours, we wish you a happy and blessed festive season.”
“Much appreciated,” said Bennett, as he picked up the stack with Delilah’s assistance, and they departed the confectioners. Two of her footmen immediately stepped forward to relieve him of the boxes; all he could do was re-wrap his scarf and offer her his arm.
“To the carriage?” she asked huskily.
He nodded, his cock beginning to harden. “To the carriage.”
It wasn’t discreet. It certainly wasn’t sensible. But her entire world had been reduced to one excruciating need: pleasure.
Wordlessly, Delilah allowed Tunbury to assist her into the carriage. When they were seated and it began to move, she gestured to the velvet curtains on the left hand side. “Would you close those ones there?”
Soon, it felt like they were in their own little rocking, swaying cocoon, both able to shut away the rest of the world for a while. Across from her, the duke leaned back on the squab, his fingers drumming a casual beat on his knee. She might have thought him relaxed, apart from his burning hot silver gaze and the bulge straining against the fall of his trousers.
“I owe you a great deal for today,” Tunbury said gruffly. “Both for your knowledge and generous assistance. So I ask you this, madam. What would you have me do to express my gratitude? A kiss? Or perhaps…something more?”
She shuddered, wetness bathing her aching pussy. “A kiss to begin.”
“Then you must come closer and straddle my thighs.”
Once again, that appealing hint of command. He might be a virgin and younger than her, but it seemed like once this delicious duke had taken instruction and regained the confidence stolen from him by those trustees, he would assume full control in the bedchamber. Gracious. Even the thought made her whimper. While she delighted in being top of the tree in business, in bed she’d always craved something quite different. To not have to make the decisions, but be taken again and again by a lover who knew her desires and preferences and wouldn’t rest until he’d forced several orgasms from her.
Shrugging away her pelisse and then hitching up her gown, petticoat, and chemise with one hand, Delilah braced her other hand on the opposite seat and carefully moved forward until her knees rested either side of his.
“Good afternoon, Your Grace,” she said, leaning down to brush his cheek with her lips.
“Good afternoon, Mrs. Forbes,” he rasped, his big hands settling on her hips and partially curving around her backside. Not fondling, just acting as a welcome further safety measure. “Your mouth, if you please.”
Teasingly, she removed his spectacles before licking his lips. “Are you proficient at kissing?”
A growl rumbled in his chest, a sound she felt all the way to her core. But soon she had her answer, when his mouth captured hers.
Oh.
Tunbury’s lips were warm and firm, exploring gently to start then as she responded eagerly, increasing the pressure to a masterful crush. Mind awhirl, Delilah gripped his shoulders tighter and when the tip of his tongue flicked her lips to demand entry, she could only surrender and invite his tongue to twine with hers. In no time at all they were both panting, and the duke pulled back a little.
“Proficient enough?” he asked, nipping at her neck.
“You’ve done this before,” Delilah replied breathlessly, as she tilted her head to allow greater access.
“Yes. Many times more with my hand than a woman, though, while following the instructions of a thankfully detailed little book.”
“I must send the publisher a note.”
Tunbury grazed her earlobe with his teeth, making her shiver. “I’m sure they would appreciate an endorsement from the Mistress of Sin.”
Unable to wait any longer, her pussy near screaming to be stroked, Delilah reached back and took his right hand, tugging it until it rested on her leg. His fingers near-scorched her skin, but the wicked man didn’t move, merely flexed his hand so his fingertips traced tiny circles on her bare inner thigh.