by Brown, Em
Her face glowed with tiny beads of perspiration dotting her forehead and nose. Her cheeks had a beautiful flush. Even the disarray of her hair added to her appeal. He would have her looking thusly always. She took many breaths before smiling once more at him. If any man could see her now, he would not deem Gertie Farrington to be plain. She was lovely, and Phineas felt his heart swell to think that he alone might be privy to this beauty.
She sat up. “And now I believe you to merit some attention.”
“That is unnecessary, Countess,” he replied, but she had already crawled onto her knees and approached his still stiffened cock. “My glory was to see you spend. I can care for myself.”
“But that would not be as pleasurable,” she objected, reaching for his cock.
It pulsed at her touch. Before he could utter another word, her mouth had descended upon him. He groaned as warm wetness engulfed his member. She swallowed his cock as if practiced in the art. Where and how could she have attained such a skill? But his capacity to think ebbed away as she moved her mouth up and down his shaft in a scintillating rhythm. He threaded a hand into her hair, wanting nothing more than to thrust his hips harder at her and drive his cock as far down her throat as he could. He would never have guessed to find Lady Lowry on her hands and knees performing fellatio as if she were a common strumpet. With more exuberance than a common strumpet...
With great reluctance, he eased her off of him. Her lips glistened, and a small string of saliva hung between her mouth and the head of his cock.
“Countess, pray do not be obligated–” he began.
She stared up at him with large, earnest eyes.
“Fuck me,” she said.
THE WORDS ECHOED THROUGH her own ears as if a foreign voice had uttered them, and Gertie could tell that her directive had caught Barclay by surprise, but she felt no hesitation. His obvious arousal had lifted her confidence, and she knew when first she knocked upon his door what she intended, what she wanted. The wine had worn off, and still the desire had remained. Their kiss had lingered with her for hours, burning her body, a flame that she could not quell despite her best efforts to sort her thoughts into tidy analyses. It was not her body alone that wanted Barclay.
As upsetting as his words had been, she had to acknowledge the truth of what he said. That he could so clearly state her situation in life pained and embarrassed her, but she sensed his empathy—which he had dubbed ‘pity,’ and for that she was furious. The great Lady Athena merited no pity! But he knew not Lady Athena. He saw only a meek little wife of the Earl of Lowry. That he should still attend to her, that he should move himself to kiss her, had done much to excite a part of her that even Lady Athena had not experienced.
Why should she not indulge herself? And if she were to commit adultery, why not with the man who excelled in such affairs? Perhaps she had crossed that line when she became Lady Athena. Even were she not a patron of Madame Botreaux’s, Alexander had not chosen to stay faithful. And though two wrongs did not make a right, why should she play the dutiful, self-sacrificing wife? And why did it take Lord Barclay of all people to make her question herself? Then there was the simple fact that she wanted the sinful and seductive Lord Barclay. She had wanted him the first time she saw him in the Bennington library. Her head ruled the day then, but now these raw, primal feelings burning inside her would not go quietly into the night.
“Fuck me,” she said again.
A muscle rippled along his jaw. She reached for his cock, hoping to urge his assent with a few strokes, but he caught her wrist and pushed her back into the pillows. He covered her body with his and kissed her. Her body exalted at the weight upon her. His hand reached between her legs, though he had no need to arouse her further. She was still wet there, and her cunnie fair ached with the desire to be filled. He brushed his cock against her clitoris and coated it with her wetness. She nearly screamed for him to enter her.
She groaned in satisfaction when at last he pushed the head of his cock into her cunnie. He grunted at her tightness. She thrust her hips up at him, encouraging him to continue. Slowly, he slid himself further into her as if worried that he might break her. She gasped at the intrusion filling her and held tightly onto his arms. His cock pulsed, stretching her even more. She closed her eyes, willing herself to relax and reminding herself that the pain would diminish.
“My God,” he murmured when at last he had buried himself to the hilt. He planted light kisses upon her eyelids.
She flexed her cunnie about his shaft. He responded by withdrawing his cock completely. She let out a cry of protest. How empty she felt without his cock nestled inside her...
Opening her eyes, she looked at him. Had something gone wrong? What thought had infiltrated his head to prevent him from—
He shoved his cock back inside of her, grinding his pubis into hers. The angle of his thrusting pulled at the nerves of her engorged clitoris. The initial discomfort had faded and beautiful sensations took its place. His rhythmic thrusting coaxed wave after wave of pleasure. She nearly squealed in delight. She reveled in how fully his cock filled her. The yearning ache consumed her entire body, making her want to meld into him as one.
When her gasps became more agitated, he quickened the motion of his hips. The bed shuddered against the wall with the force of his efforts. A beautiful sweat encased his body. But she had little time to admire his form. That pleasurable ache, emanating from deep inside her belly, shattered into tremors of pure delight that tore through her from head to toe. She bucked against him uncontrollably as her climax pushed through her body.
She heard what sounded like a growl from him, felt his cock shoving harder and deeper into her, then felt the liquid warmth of his seed filling her. His legs jerked against her in his release, and he allowed himself to collapse onto her, his chest flattening her breasts below. She wound an arm around his neck and held him close. And she would have been content to remain as she was if time could stand still.
Chapter Twelve
THEY MADE LOVE ONCE more before the sunrise. Gertie had stirred against him in the middle of the night. His cock had responded instantly despite his being in a state of half-sleep. Pulling the nightgown down over her hips, he tended to her quim once more with his tongue, cultivating her most sensitive spot on the left side of her engorged bud, until she begged for his cock. He thrust into her with a renewed appetite, as if they had not fucked but two hours before, as if his cock tasted of her wet warmth for the first time. How tight she still was, how exquisite the pressure of her cunnie about his cock...
The rain clouds muted the brightness of day, leaving the room dim and grey. Phineas listened to the steady patter of rain against the window as Gertie slept in the crook of his arm. He could feel her breath upon his chest. Once more his cock reared its head. But he was content to lie as they were and would not disturb her from her peaceful slumber. He prayed it would rain for days.
Gertie purred and her eyelids fluttered. She nestled herself closer to him, then woke with a start as if she had forgotten where she was. She turned to look at him.
“Good morning,” he smiled.
She relaxed into a smile, but he could see her mind beginning to churn. “I should—I should return to my room before the servants discover me.”
“I thought they believed us to be husband and wife?” he inquired, running a hand through her thick tresses and massaging the back of her head.
“I think that to be the polite assumption. I doubt they believe it as you arrived with your valet upon horseback, and I arrived sans servants in a post-chaise.”
“What does it matter what they believe?”
“It...nonetheless, I think I had best retire to my own room.”
She had managed to wrap a sheet about herself, but he had no intention of letting her go before he verified an important matter. Last night he had thought he had seen a discoloration to the left of her nipple, but the lighting had been poor, and he had been too engrossed to study it more closely.
“Do you regret what has happened?”
She hesitated. “I—no. I came of my own volition. But I—it is rather early to form regrets. Do—do you?”
In response, he brought her head to his until their lips met. He rolled on top of her, pinning her body below his, as he continued to kiss her, leaving no doubts as to how he felt. She gasped upon feeling his hardened cock against her thigh.
“I want more of you, Countess,” he said into her neck as he caressed a shoulder and left kisses about her collar.
He tore the bed sheet away from her bosom and stared at the birthmark upon her breast. The blood pounded in his head.
Lady Athena.
He wondered how the fact could have escaped him all this time. His gaze went to her mouth. Of course. How had he failed to recognize those amazing lips? He had always suspected there was more to Gertie than met the eye, but he had never imagined uncovering a secret as grand as this. And then he wanted her more fully, more deeply than he had ever wanted to possess another being. His gaze met hers, and the obvious lust reflected in her eyes made his cock stretch to its limits.
His mouth descended upon the informing breast. The vigor with which he claimed her made her gasp. He grasped the nipple between his teeth, then sucked it hard until her back arched off the bed. Cupping both breasts in his hands, he kneaded the glorious orbs. She would not find it easy to leave his bed.
“The servants–” she said in a meek attempt to halt their passions.
“My valet knows better than to allow anyone to disturb me whilst I am occupied.”
Her eyes widened. “He knows?”
“Francis is very discreet,” he assured her, “and has been in my service during the whole of my time on the Continent.”
He returned to mauling her breasts with his mouth. He slid a hand between her thighs, sticky from their efforts during the night but coated with fresh wetness. Soon he had her writhing and panting. This time he plunged his cock into her with little ceremony. Making love to Lady Lowry was entirely different from conquering the Lady Athena. He considered all the torment and submission he had endured at the hands of Lady Athena, and he shoved his cock into Gertie with more force than he had intended.
It was still Gertie he was with, he reminded himself. He eased off of her and gently kissed her about the face.
“No woman has wished to leave my bed before,” he informed her.
She smiled devilishly. “Are you so confident in your skills, sir?”
He returned her smile, then flipped her onto her stomach. He pulled her arse up for a better angle. Her pink folds glistened with her lust. He wondered if one day he might penetrate her arse—an ultimate victory with Lady Athena. For now, he pushed his cock at her quim. She grunted in satisfaction as he slid inside her. Wrapping an arm around the front of her thigh, he plied her clitoris until she let out moan after moan of pleasure. He varied the tempo of his thrusting, easing off the first time she began to ascend towards her climax—a small nod to Hephaestus.
But he could not deny Gertie for long. He reveled too much in her spending. Pulling back, he shoved himself at her buttocks and felt his balls swing up against her flesh. Her face—one half buried in her pillow, the other half covered by her hair—could not be viewed, but he needed only to hear her groans to know that she was close to her release. She clawed at the sheets below her. Then the paroxysm of ecstasy overcame her. She let out a helpless wail.
He could have spent, but he held back the release boiling in his groin. He wanted to fuck her senseless. Such that she would never conceive of leaving his bed. Flipping her onto her back, he threw her legs over his shoulders and plunged into the depths of her womb. The heat of her cunnie seared his shaft. There was much he could do to her, and he wanted to do it all. But he had no wish to frighten her. He needed her to feel safe and secure. Grasping her wrists, he pulled her arms overhead.
“My God, Gertie,” he breathed, “your cunnie is wondrous.”
“You’ve no need to feign civilities with me,” she responded as she ground herself to the best of her ability.
There were women who possessed more skill at lovemaking than she. He could tell that she was not practiced in the positions of fornication. But it mattered not. She felt marvelous to him.
“I have never lied to a woman, Gertie.”
“Never?”
“I’ve not had a need to.”
“Y-yes. I understand why.”
As her second climax waved over, her eyes rolled towards the back of her head. She jerked against him. Her cunnie pulsed madly about his cock. The pressure in his abdomen was too much. Grabbing her legs, he shoved his cock at her and pumped his seed inside of her. He shuddered as the effects of his climax shot down both of his legs. How was it possible that this time seemed even more glorious than the ones before? He lay beside her and pulled her to him.
“I wonder that I shall be able to walk after this?” she wondered aloud.
He smiled. “That was but a small sampling of the possibilities.”
GERTIE’S HEAD SWAM with the excitement of what she had done. What frightened her a little was that she yearned for more.
Her stomach grumbled.
“I think breakfast would be in order?” Barclay suggested.
Too embarrassed to look him in the eye, she nodded. He cupped her chin and forced her gaze to his.
“No regrets.”
“No regrets,” she echoed.
“Francis can have a plate brought to your room if you wish.”
He gathered her articles and wrapped his banyan about her. Then he opened the door and glanced out into the hallway. He motioned for her. Clutching her garments tightly to her, she scurried through the opening.
“Gertie.”
She turned and was met with the fullness of his mouth upon hers. He seared a kiss upon her, one that tingled her lips long after, before letting her go. She ran into the sanctuary of her own room, her spirits soaring. How she loved the sound of her name upon his lips! How she loved his lips—and all the delightful things he did to her with them! She pulled his banyan tighter about her and felt as if he held her still. She could hardly wait to see him again.
“What a giddy girl you’ve become!” she admonished her reflection in the mirror, but she was too happy to care.
She hummed to herself as she went through her trunk, trying to find the best outfit, one that might catch his eye. She sighed remembering how his eyes sparkled, how beautiful and mesmerizing they were. No wonder he could cast his spells upon so many women.
“Breakfast, my lady,” Mrs. Pettigrew announced with a knock at the door.
Gertie devoured the offering of eggs, ham, and bread with relish.
“How radiant my lady looks this morning,” Mrs. Pettigrew commented. “And yesterday you looked as wretched as a drowned mouse. I trust you had a pleasant night?”
Gertie nodded with her eyes downward cast.
“He’s a right handsome man that husband of yours. And charming as sin.”
She dared to study the innkeeper’s wife but could discern nothing from the woman’s face. Barclay’s words echoed in her ears. Why should it matter what these strangers thought? Should she care if they should cast disapproving glances her way? Yet she did not relish having to live a lie whilst she resided in the inn.
“He’s not my husband,” she braved.
“A pity,” Mrs. Pettigrew replied nonchalantly as she reviewed Gertie’s garments. “Wouldn’t mind waking to his countenance each morning.”
Gertie smiled and allowed Mrs. Pettigrew to brush out her hair.
“I wonder that he will ever marry,” Gertie said. “He has no fondness for the institution of matrimony.”
“I thought him a bit of a rogue.”
He might be all rogue, Gertie considered to herself.
“But a rogue can be tamed—by the right mistress.”
Gertie thought about Lady Athena. Could she tame one of the most infamous rakes and deba
uchers? She fingered her wedding band. Even if she could, there was little to be done whilst she was married to Alexander.
After completing her toilette, she went downstairs and found Barclay in the drawing room. Dressed in a fitting pair of buff breeches, his fine linen, a striped waistcoat, and a lace-trimmed cravat, he was a feast for the eyes. And he looked every bit as seductive without his refined garments, she thought to herself, recalling his naked body, the perfect subject for any painter or sculptor. If she had not been so taken by his kisses, she would have taken the time to caress every ridge of his chest and torso, the curve of muscle in his legs, and the tightness of his arse.
“Countess,” he greeted with a bow. “Care to join me in a game of vingt-et-un?”
“I suppose that would be harmless enough.”
He pulled out a chair for her. “If I may, you look lovely.”
She blushed like a young thing who had just had her come-out. “I saw the way you examined my gown. It does not meet with your approval.”
“I would it were as appealing as that which it adorns.”
She hesitated, not knowing how to respond for she was not rehearsed in receiving compliments. She scooped up the cards at the table and began to shuffle them. “I suppose when next I venture to Mayfair, I ought request your company that you may advise me on what to buy.”
He inclined his head. “I should be happy to be of service, madam.”
They played their first two hands without exchanging words. It was charitable of him to be so cordial to her, but then, it only made sense as they were trapped in the inn together for an indefinite amount of time. She wondered if his behavior would differ if he knew he did not have to face her again the following morning?
