“No. It did not hurt as much.”
Holding back had been quite deliberate. “Did you tell anyone what we did last year?”
She shook her head quickly. “But I think Dawson might have heard us.”
That was what he’d suspected too. “Why didn’t you tell anyone?”
“I was sure no one would believe me,” she admitted. “I have not been spanked since I was a little girl.”
He moved her away from a hawker selling pigeon pies, keen to keep their conversation going without distractions. “I enjoyed it, you know. Spanking you then, and this morning too. I find discipline pleasurable.”
A shocked gasp left her pink lips. “You like hurting me?”
He had indeed. The memory of her red bottom had warmed many of his evenings while he’d been away. “What I did to you caused no lasting harm.”
“I felt pain the next day every time I sat down, and this morning.”
He chuckled. “That pleases me.”
She stopped then, slipping from his grip. “Why?”
“Because I am ashamed to say I wanted you to remember me when I went back to my ship. My hand on your skin, my attention on you. I was brought up to believe a gentleman is not supposed to dally with the hired help. You have been my greatest test and greatest failure. There must be a reason for that.” He considered her. It was strange how much he was drawn to her. “Do you remember everything I did last year?”
She blushed again and glanced left and right.
Was she too shy to admit what had occurred after the spanking even now they were married? He leaned close, close enough that his breath would tickle he ear. “I wasn’t the only one aroused by the spanking, was I?”
She closed her eyes as he drew back, as if that action would deny the truth of what they had enjoyed together. When he’d spanked her bottom red last year, the quality and volume of her moans had tempted him to slip his hand between her legs. She’d been so wet with arousal that he’d rubbed her clitoris until she’d cried out in pleasure a few short minutes later. Some women truly enjoyed punishment, and he’d felt extremely proud he’d discovered Matilda’s secret delight and brought her fulfillment that day.
It had been a memorable moment with her, and he wanted more of that. When she was a servant he shouldn’t have done it again, but with her being his wife, they could indulge their passions in private as long as he remembered not to ruin her.
But only if she agreed.
“You didn’t ask me to stop; you didn’t ask to be released. You lay across my knee, moaning to every beat of my hand against your skin.” He captured her hand. “And when I judged the pain enough, I rewarded you with pleasure.”
Matilda trembled. “You shouldn’t have done that.”
“I couldn’t have left you in such a state of arousal and not provided complete satisfaction. That would have been callous and unkind.”
A ho
t blush rose up her cheeks, warming her skin as much as it had been that day.
“You like it,” he whispered to her after a couple had passed them by. “There are many women who enjoy a strong hand and direction. There is nothing to be uncomfortable about. You like how I make you feel, and I like taking care of you.”
She shook her head. “I was innocent until that day.”
“You are innocent still, Matilda. I don’t intend to change that fact no matter how many times you spill across my knee. I can pleasure you without taking your virtue. I would like to touch you intimately very much.” He glanced ahead, noticing Miss Chudleigh’s carriage had somehow circled around the block very quickly to roll past them again. He set his arm about Matilda’s back and turned her toward the adjacent buildings so she did not notice the woman was watching their every move. She might find it as unnerving as he did. “Ah, here we are. The Duke of Rutherford’s London residence, Newberry House. What do you think?”
Matilda glanced ahead at the massive structure, but he could tell by the way her breath was rushed that she was fighting with herself, struggling not to be affected by their frank discussion of pleasure and pain, all while his arm remained curled about her body.
“Impressive,” she whispered.
“Yes, you are. The house also to a lesser extent.” He grinned when she spluttered in shock at his words. He might not always be a charming conversationalist, but when the time was right he could utter honest compliments. Matilda challenged him in a way he’d not expected. There was more to her than met his eager eyes. She had strength and courage, two traits utterly necessary for any real wife of his to possess.
She made him want to discover her depths, valleys, and limits. “We will discuss the matter of satisfying your desires at a later time when we can speak freely again. Agreed?”
She stared at him and then slowly nodded. “Yes, William.”