You can hear the merriment on the other side of the thick wooden door behind your back, but it's the last thing on your mind.
What's forefront of your mind is one Anthony Bridgerton. His lips skating the edge of your gown, his cock buried deep inside you, fucking you thoroughly into the said door as the party behind continues, oblivious.
"Don't stop", you moan loudly.
"Shhhh", he hisses, his lips tracing up your collarbone.
"They can't... hear me... party... too loud", you stutter out between his hard thrusts.
"Let's not tempt fate, my love", he warns, biting your earlobe.
"Then don't be so good at this", you counter breathlessly, chasing the feeling creeping up your spine.
His eyes glint at the challenge.
"But oh, I can be so much better", he responds, his voice dark and silky, changing the angle of his hips to hit that spot that makes you scream.
He grabs your hands, lacing your fingers with his and pulls them above your head, pinning them roughly to the door.
"Stay quiet", he gruffs.
"I can't; kiss me", you gasp.
"As my lady wishes", he whispers, swallowing your screams.