by Sahara Kelly
He never hesitates when we make love. If he wants my legs parted, he will move them to exactly where he requires them, and last night was no exception. He opened me so wide, making me feel more naked, if such a thing is possible. Then he spent some time just looking at me.
It was…strange, and a little embarrassing, but he seemed to really enjoy the moments, telling me how beautiful I was and how he couldn’t wait to feel me around his cock.
Such talk is arousing. I never imagined I would find it so, but when a man is gazing at me, all parts of me, and saying such wonderful things to me - well, my body replies with enthusiasm.
So I was more than ready when Gabriel lay on his back. I do like being astride, riding him, controlling the pace. Taking my pleasure with him rather than from him. But as I settled atop his legs, I found myself curious to try something I’d read about. So I leaned down and let my breasts, meagre though they are, form a cradle for his length.
He gasped, a wonderful sound since I am usually the one gasping. So I encouraged him to move as I pressed my flesh around his cock. At first it felt strange, so I paused and used my mouth to add a little moisture to his skin. Returning to squeeze him between my breasts, he slid so smoothly that we both sighed with delight.
I experimented, I admit. As he moved, I let my fingers rub my nipples, adding to my excitement. By the time he told me to stop lest he come right then and there, I was more than ready to agree and hastened up his body to hover over his rigid length, and then sink down, taking every bit of it inside me.
And oh, how wonderful it felt.
Gabriel fits me perfectly. I rode him slowly at first, rising until he was almost free, then sliding back down, easily encompassing him, feeling his sac beneath my backside as I put my weight on him.
His eyes watched me, the firelight dancing over his pale skin and hair. My own faerie prince permitting me to bring us both pleasure. The friction in my body was divine and I’ll confess to prolonging the moment just so that I could savour the desire within me.
I wished we could do this for hours. I wished to rise and fall on this wonderful instrument of passion until my muscles gave out. I lost myself in the growing sensation spreading from my loins to my breasts to my throat, and scarce knew that my hands had lifted to my nipples.
Gabriel’s hand drifted to my body, stroking my sweet place with tender care. In truth, once I am so very aroused a direct touch can be painful, so his gentle caresses were most welcome, as they increased my wanton needs.
How long did we ride like this?
I cannot tell.
But I do recall feeling Gabriel’s body grow taut, even as I pinched my nipples, finding the little pain to be agonisingly wonderful. I was so close, his fingers, my flesh, all blending into an enormous growing volcano.
And, of course, it had to erupt.
My release was overwhelming, robbing my lungs of breath and my mind of thoughts as I lowered myself one last time and let my body free. Inside I could feel Gabriel’s cock throbbing as he filled me, urging my spasms to continue, fueling the lustful explosion that tore me from reality and tossed me into a blissful maelstrom of erotic pleasure.
We shuddered, locked together, for what seemed like an eternity. And, at last, we tumbled free, limp and fully sated.
As is his way, Gabriel gathered me into his embrace. “No more tears tonight, love,” he said softly, kissing me with lips that still trembled from his release.
And I replied, “No more tears. Thanks to you.”
I fell asleep, warm, contented and relaxed, and my last thought was not of trouble or worry, but of how very lucky I am to have Gabriel and the rest of my gentlemen in my life.
*~~*~~*
The weather continued cold, varying between days of icy brilliant sunshine with winds sharp enough to turn ears and noses bright red, and others when the clouds stayed low and grey and bitter drizzle made doing anything outside a chore to be done as fast as possible.
In other words, a typical winter.
Gwyneth missed the warmth of summer, her harsh experiences a year ago having created a dislike of being cold. But Wolfbridge was well supplied with wood, and a large Yule log had been brought in with a certain amount of difficulty by her gentlemen.
It was nearing Christmas, and she had seized a sunny afternoon, bundling up from toes to eyebrows and dashing from tree to tree, gathering pine boughs to decorate indoors.
A trove of old ribbons had been discovered on one of the forays into the attic, so Gabriel and Evan were tasked with adding some festive bows to the fragrant pine. Since the curtains were drawn against the darkness by late afternoon, most of Gwyneth’s days were spent in the cosy confines of her favourite rooms.
Royce had sent off his messages to London, so now the only thing they could all do was wait for a response.
Never the most patient of people, Jeremy fretted the most.
She felt for him; he had suffered the most recently, and the shadow of Susanna’s death hung heavily over him from time to time.
So she made sure she spent time with him, welcomed him to her bed either alone or with another, and the nights with him and Evan were special in the joys of physical pleasure and also the laughter they always shared.
Everyone agreed with his suggestion that this was a good time to do an inventory of Wolfbridge and its contents. After all, he argued, what better moment could there be? They were mostly indoors anyway.
Although the house was clean and tidy thanks to the regular visits of a few girls happy to earn some extra pennies, there were many rooms that went unused by the current residents.
So a few days before Christmas, Gwyneth found herself in what was probably a lady’s private room on the floor above the bedrooms. There were plenty of bookshelves, but few books left, and those seemed to be instructional in nature.
“Here’s one,” Jeremy blew dust off it and coughed. “A Useful Guide to the Training of New Servants”.
“Hmm.” Gwyneth shot him an amused look. “Should I keep that in case you forget your duties?”
“I’m not a new servant,” he chuckled. “I’m getting to be quite an old one.”
“Pshaw,” she scoffed. “Well I have one for you. Would you like to read Suggestions for The Proper Behaviour of Young Ladies?”
“I would if it were the Improper Behaviour…” He waggled his eyebrows wickedly, making her laugh.
“Are you two making any progress?” Gabriel peeked around the door, then coughed. “I see you have found plenty of dust, anyway.”
“Just old books, I’m afraid,” Gwyneth brushed her hands down the large apron Evan had insisted she wear. “I’ll take a look in the bureau next, but I am not expecting to find much of importance.”
She opened the bottom drawer and gazed at dust, a piece of old cloth and a lady’s hairbrush with few bristles left.
The second drawer was completely empty, which left the top drawer.
It stuck a little, so she wiggled it carefully, finally sliding it open. Inside was a leather-covered book, which she removed and put on top of the bureau. About to close the drawer, she frowned. One piece of the bottom seemed to be curving upward, as if the wood had warped.
“Hmm.” She touched it and found it loose. Pulling the entire drawer open as fully as possible, she fiddled with the corner and to her surprise the entire bottom panel moved. It took scarcely any effort to slide it out of the drawer.
Jeremy and Evan moved to her side, staring at the contents.
A beautifully painted fan lay inside, along with several pairs of lace gloves, brown with age. Next to them was a bundle of papers, elegantly gathered and tied with a faded ribbon.
“Letters?” Evan touched them.
“Given what’s here, I’m tempted to say more love letters,” answered Gwyneth. “They were well hidden, and there’s nothing of monetary value with them. The only reason for concealing letters is to hide the contents. And the only thing that would need to be hidden…”
&nb
sp; She let her words taper away, knowing Jeremy and Evan would immediately grasp the significance.
Jeremy sighed. “You know, I think I’m only going to go into new buildings from now on. I’m getting a bit tired of finding things in walls and old bureaus.”
“Oh, but it’s exciting, don’t you think? Getting to peek into the lives of those who lived long ago?”
Evan sneezed. “They should have dusted more.”
“They probably did,” sighed Gwyneth, carefully gathering her finds in her apron. “But I agree. Time to find some clean air.” She looked around. “And I’m not tapping the wainscoting to see if there are any hidden niches.”
“Thank God,” exclaimed Jeremy dramatically, making both Evan and Gwyneth laugh. “I’ve worked up a thirst.”
Evan rolled his eyes. “You breathe and you work up a thirst,” he teased.
“Ah, the familiarity of a long friendship,” he grinned, throwing his arm around Evan’s shoulders. “You are aware of my needs before I even voice them.”
Gwyneth shook her head. “Come along then. Downstairs. I need to wash my hands quite thoroughly and then add this to our treasure table.”
“We might need a bigger one,” mused Evan on the way out. “The way we’re going, I think the dining room would be a better option.”
Despite Evan’s predictions, the small find fit on the table, and the three of them stared at it for a moment or two.
“Well,” said Evan. “Other than reading the letters, I’m not terribly excited by all this.”
Jeremy sighed. “Just once it would be nice to find a bag bulging with fabulous jewellery, perhaps a horde of golden ducats or loose diamonds stolen from some Rajah in the depths of India.”
Gwyneth rolled her eyes. “You are reading the wrong books, Jeremy. That doesn’t happen in real life.”
“I’d settle for a bag of sixpences?”
She chuckled. “Be patient. We haven’t finished our inventory yet.”
He groaned. “I’m going to the kitchen. I need tea.”
“That was a hint,” sighed Evan.
Gwyneth watched them leave, arms around each other’s shoulders, jesting and laughing as they walked from the room. She hoped it was a good sign that Jeremy was getting over his malaise, although she knew, deep inside, that only one thing would rid him of it completely.
Finding the truth about Susanna’s death.
Unfortunately, the letters they’d discovered weren’t going to be of any help in that regard. Gwyneth took a quick peek, then sighed. They were simply thank-you notes, written to a previous Lady of Wolfbridge. Some from tenants, others from people who must have been friends, or perhaps even local acquaintances.
While it was delightful to glimpse the past lives of Wolfbridge ladies, and she’d enjoy perusing all of the letters at some point, now just wasn’t the right time.
So the gloves were sadly disposed of, being unusable, and the letters and the fan were left with their other treasures. Someday, Gwyneth intended to gather all these mementoes of the past and put a few on display. But that was for another time.
Many things still needed to be done, and she owed them her attention first. Final arrangements for the play were uppermost in her mind, since that was now mere hours away.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Christmas Eve dawned cold and grey, with clouds threatening snow before noon.
But inside Wolfbridge, the fires burned merrily, and the air was filled with the scent of pine, and the tasty aromas from the kitchen where Evan was happily at work on their Christmas fare. Jeremy was with him, helping as best he could, and when Gwyneth peered around the door, she saw them both busily crimping mince pies on the long table.
“Anything I can do?” She asked the question in the hope that the answer was no. She could cook, but nowhere near as well as these two.
“Not at the moment, my Lady,” Evan blew hair out of his eyes. “Are we going to church?”
“As far as I know, yes. The eleven o’clock service.”
“All right then,” Jeremy nodded. “We’ll be done in about an hour or so.” He glanced at the clock. “And the play? Still starting at four?”
“Yes, indeed.” Gwyneth nodded back. “I’ll remind Royce.”
She left them to it and went in search of either Royce or Harry, since someone would have to let Ben know what their plans were.
After he’d taken them to St. Polycarp’s and back, Gwyneth would be sending him home He would be able to spend Christmas with his family and return the following day.
Gabriel came down the stairs as she entered the hall. “Are we going to church?”
She chuckled. “Goodness, you too?”
He blinked.
“Jeremy and Evan just asked me the same question. The answer is yes.”
“Ah. Not the midnight mass?”
“No.” said Harry, joining them from the parlour. “There’s the play to present, and my guess is we’ll have snow tonight.”
“Indeed.” Gwyneth glanced around. “However, we are all eager to sing carols, it seems.”
“Hah. I’ll tell Royce. I need to see him for a moment, anyway.” Harry laughed and walked off toward Royce’s study.
“I can’t believe it’s Christmas tomorrow,” Gabriel said as he tucked Gwyneth’s arm through his and strolled to the end of the hall. “Are you excited?”
“In a way,” she answered. “I never really thought very much about it when I was little. I liked the smell of the house, all warm and cosy, cinnamon and goose, pine and evergreens.”
“Gifts?”
She shook her head. “No. My family believed that one should make sure to give the Lord his due on that day. We gave to Him, not each other.”
“Mine too,” sighed Gabriel. “But I do recall one year when a lady appeared with gifts for the family. I must have been very young though, since I don’t remember who she was or what she gave me. Some distant Parr relation, I suppose.”
Gwyneth pulled out her winter cloak and bonnet and put them together with her gloves in readiness for their drive to the church. “I haven’t thought about presents, Gabriel. Should I have?” She turned to him, slightly worried.
“No, no, love.” He smiled sweetly at her. “You are gift enough for all of us.”
She shook her head. “Your honeyed words, dear man. How is it that you always know the right thing to say?”
“Practice,” he answered dryly, reaching into the cupboard for his own winter clothing. “When your life depends on your being what someone else wants you to be, you learn very quickly.”
“Oh Gabriel.” She touched his arm. “I’m sorry.” Realising he spoke of his past in a brothel, Gwyneth was distressed that she’d recalled that memory into his mind.
“No, please.” He hugged her briefly. “No need to apologise. The past is just that. The past. I take things from it, things that are good and useful, and leave the rest behind.” He squared his shoulders. “I am focussing on the play, now. It should be a lot of fun.”
As he helped her into her thick winter pelisse, she glanced at his face, pleased to see those amazing eyes filled with delight. “I believe it will serve the purpose,” she said, reaching for her bonnet.
“And it’s quite short, so the little ones won’t get restless.” He raised his hand. “Fingers crossed.”
It wasn’t long before the entire Wolfbridge party was assembled, and squeezed into the carriage, amidst laughter and jests.
The six of them fit, but since five were well-built gentlemen, Gwyneth found herself snuggled between Harry and Royce, with her knees tucked in between Evan’s.
“Are you warm enough, my Lady?” Harry glanced at her.
“Toasty,” she chuckled. “You’re all providing plenty of heat.”
She almost felt the atmosphere in the carriage change at her words. “Er…I trust you all not to misinterpret what I just said.”
“Of course not, my Lady.”
“It would not even
cross my mind, my Lady.”
“Certainly not, my Lady.”
“You may be quite reassured, my Lady.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it, my Lady.”
“All right,” she held up her hand, laughing. “That’s enough. You’re quite wicked.” She paused. “One of the things I love about you all.”
Silence fell after her declaration.
She looked at the faces, those across from her and those to either side. Their expressions were similar, she thought, a mixture of surprise, disbelief and a yearning which caught her off-guard.
“You love us,” whispered Gabriel.
She blinked as the carriage slowed and turned toward the church. “Of course I do. You are my gentlemen. All of you. How could I not?”
The carriage stopped, and the door opened, halting the conversation, as they alighted onto the path in front of St. Polycarp’s.
“My Lady.” Royce held out his gloved hand for her, which she accepted, allowing him to guide her. She skidded just a little on the packed snow and he caught her up, his arm sliding between the cloak and her pelisse. He gave her a slight squeeze as he smiled down at her, his eyes warmer than she was used to.
“Be careful,” he warned. “The ground here is slippery. Best hold tight.”
She nodded, wondering at his unusual tenderness.
But the moment passed as they were hailed by several people they knew, and the conversation became general as everyone entered the church.
She turned to the others. “I want you all in the Wolfbridge pew,” she said calmly.
“My Lady,” replied Jeremy hesitantly.
“I know,” she answered. “But today, Christmas Eve, is for family. You are all my family. If anyone objects, they can talk to me about it, but I don’t believe they will.”
With her chin high, and Royce’s arm beneath hers, she led them into the church and gave Vicar Thomas her biggest smile.
There were a few murmurs of surprise, but mostly there were cheerful nods. Mrs B was there, and she gave Gwyneth a broad grin of approval.
