by Jane Keeler
"I am," he replied.
She could tell that the dick inside of her was pumping with more blood than ever as it was getting bigger and bigger inside of her. It took more of her vagina to swallow up his massive dick. It felt like she was sitting on a pole, it went so deep inside of her. Not only that, it was gaining a thickness to it and was pushing more inside of her than ever.
"You must really want to be with me if you're this wet," he said into her ear.
She looked back at him, at his dark hair and pale blue eyes. She was enamored and wanted to kiss him up and down. She pecked him on the lips once, instead.
"Yes, yes, I really want this," she said.
"You really want what?" he asked. He put his hand above her tits, on her chest, then pushed it up against her neck as he asked again, "What is it?"
"I really want," she began, smiling as she felt the pressure of his hand against her neck, "your massive cock to go all of the way inside of me."
"That's what you want?" he asked.
"That is, I want it."
"I want to put my massive cock all the way inside of you," he said as he held both his hands clasped around her neck and looked at what she was like when she was held down.
She went on to say, "Your dick is making me feel so much different from before."
"Ah, is it?"
"It's making me feel dumb, Derek. Your massive dick. Oh, it's making me feel--" she stopped talking and started squeakily groaning and moaning in pleasure from the way his dick was gliding against her g-spot.
He put his hands on her thighs and pumped into her, feeling the softness and tightness of her lips around his shaft. He put his fingers on her clit, massaging around it, then squeezed it and then flicked it gently before putting his fingers up against his shaft. He then pushed them in to be inside of her hole with his dick.
"You're putting your fingers inside of me, too?"
"I want to feel what it's like to widen you up."
"I want to, too," she said as he put his fingers in deeper as he pushed his dick in. He removed his fingers after a moment and put them up to his lips and licked.
"You taste spectacular," he said.
"You should have tasted before we got started."
"I'll eat you out anytime."
"Next time," she said.
"Alright," he said as he continued to move inside of her. "You feel so warm."
She began to squeakily try to speak and groaned as he pushed in and out of her.
He put his hands on her tits, feeling the mass of them underneath his palm. He moved them up and then outwards and down, pulling them to the extent that they could move. He jiggled them and pushed them with his fingers, feeling their movement and the ways they splayed under his fingertips.
She groaned and smiled, feeling the immense pleasure of having his dick push against her inner walls. She felt like his dick was opening barriers, knocking down walls, making her feel over joyous and ecstatic.
His hand on her tit was gripping it, feeling it move in and out of his hand. He moved his hands lower, over her ribs, down between the V of her abdomen and the outer edges of her hips. He moved his hands onto her legs and lifted one of her shins up. He licked the inside of it and kissed it gently, then moved his hands to her foot. He held it close to his lips as he pumped into her, then turned to it and kissed the instep of her nubile, clean foot. He then moved it and put his lips on her index toe, then remained fix on pushing in and out of her. He moved his head after a few moments and kissed her other shin, then her instep. He bent down, then, to kiss her tits, licking the nipple of each.
His tongue went against her skin and licked it up and down, feeling the suppleness of her flesh under his mouth. He nipped at her skin and felt the taste of her skin against his teeth. He bit down on her and she shuddered, then he let go.
"Can I bite you?"
"Bite me," she said.
He put his teeth on her chest again and nipped again, feeling her skin against both of his teeth as he pushed down against it. He wrapped a hand around her other tit as he sucked and bit on the same side of her chest.
"I love you," she said down to him.
He lifted his lips off of her skin to say, "I love you," as he looked into her eyes. "You're beautiful."
"Thank you," she said with a giggle.
He pushed into her more and grabbed onto one of her tits as he licked at her neck. He sucked on it and kissed it, then moved his mouth to hers. They kissed and then he put his head back up as he rhythmically pushed into her. He watched her tits jiggle softly as he pumped ceaselessly. She threw her auburn hair back as she looked away, closing her eyes and smiling slightly as she did.
"I could cum right now," he said.
"Do it," she said. "I want you to cum all inside of me to make me feel your powerful cum inside of me."
"I will," he said as he pushed into her fully and exploded within her.
"I love you!" she said again.
"I love you," he said, less excited but still genuine.
They laid on the couch, wrapped in one another's arms as they were exhausted.
"I can't believe we haven't been doing that more," she said.
"Neither can I," he admitted.
"Derek, I love doing this," she said.
"Having sex?"
"Being with you," she added.
"Do you really?"
"I do."
"I want to always be able to be together like this."
"Me, too."
The two of them lay together on the couch for a few minutes more before she sighed and he loosened his arm around her. She got up and went about putting on her clothes as she asked, "Do you still want to go?"
"I still want to go."
"Not bored by the idea of ancient architecture?"
"Not in the least," he said as he began putting his clothes back on.
They left her army housing and walked through the streets while they made their way to the castle's path. They walked up it, enjoying the weather and each other's company.
The road was steep and they could have driven, but neither of them had cars.
"I count this as therapy exercises," he said chokingly.
"Oh yeah?" she asked. "Well, they are."
She wanted to tell him how much she wanted him to get out of needing therapy soon, to heal fully like she had always hoped for him. But, she didn't want to pressure him and, besides that, she wanted him to stay close, where she and him could get along together like this. Like they had been the past few months during his recovery. But soon, it would be all over and he would have to go back to his home instead of her ER in Lundstuhl.
The castle was magnificent as they approached and it shone with a brightness. It was obviously ancient and held secrets all its own.
"These walls," he said. "Magnificent."
"Isn't it?" she asked.
They walked through the hallways and rooms of it, exploring its magnificence. It was dimly lit and full of four-poster beds and ancient chests and furniture and they lingered in the bedrooms, commenting on how nice it would be to live there, sleep there, wake there.
In the actual cafe in the castle, they ordered lattes and sat down. She stared at a suit of armor behind him for a moment and then looked at him across the table from her. She felt completely comfortable with him, heavily attracted to him, and happy to know him the way she had. But, it was all going to change soon, she thought. Maybe that's why he had stalled his recovery, she thought. To Stay with her longer.
"Tell me what you want to do, again," he said as they both sipped on their lattes.
"Well, it changed. Now I want to go back to California. Near where I grew up, actually. To study and continue research there, which I can do only in California."
He breathed in quickly and said in slight exuberance, "You can't be serious."
"Why is that?"
"Well, I was going to tell you later tonight, but I should just tell you now that I'm going to be sent there to
Pendleton to be a recruiter in the reserves."
"That's so good for you," she said.
"And us," he said.
She agreed, "And us."
"And what happens when you're discharged?"
"I go back to San Diego, for you."
"You would... you would do that?"
"I want to do that. I want to see if we can work this out back in America," he told her.
She said, "And I do, too."
"Do you think we can?"
Emilia said back to Derek, "I know we can, do you?"
"I know we can, too."
*** THE END ***
Back to Contents
Book Eighteen
Back to Contents
HER BROTHER’S KILLER
By Jane Keeler
Chapter 1
It was the beginning of summer on the Shelley estate, and the beginning of the social season in town too. Elizabeth Shelley strolled arm in arm on her father’s lands with her best friend, keeping a calm and decorous pace. As they walked they admired a small and burbling stream which ran alongside the path, filling the air with pleasant sounds which mingled with the call of birds.
“It’s such a wonderful day,” Mary Percival noted, tipping back the brim of her bonnet for a moment to gaze at the clear blue sky.
“I know,” Elizabeth sighed, fingering the black ribbon tied around one arm of her gown. “That’s what makes it all the worse.”
“I do wish you could lighten your heart just a little, dear Lizzy,” Mary replied, hugging her arm tighter. “I do know Arthur would have wanted it.”
Elizabeth sighed again, casting her gaze to the floor. “Yes, I expect he would,” she said. “But it is exactly a year today since his death. I can’t help but be downcast.”
Arthur Shelley, Elizabeth’s older brother, had been shot dead in a duel one year before. It was still not quite clear what the details of the situation had been, but the result was all the same – he was placed in the ground, and at only just twenty years old. Elizabeth had gone into deep mourning for months, as was proper, but his loss still haunted her.
“I confess, today I woke with a shadow on my heart as well,” Mary agreed, patting her arm sadly. Mary had been on the verge of an engagement with Arthur, at the time; he had only wanted to come into his full allowance and he could have offered her his hand.
“Why must our young men be so passionate and dangerous?” Elizabeth complained. “They do not think of us women who must be left behind to weep for them.”
“I know it, and that is why I have made up my mind to marry an older man,” Mary confessed. “I want to find someone who is above duels and war and all of the rest of it. I shan’t marry a soldier, a gambler, or a passionate young man.”
“I fear you have the right of it, Mary,” Elizabeth laughed in spite of herself. “Perhaps we shall find you some dear gentleman who is only in want of a wife because he has been away at sea.”
They giggled a little together, largely at the thought of Mary married to an old country gentleman. Rotund and white-whiskered, the image sprung to their minds so clearly that they could not help but be just a little merry. The mood was lightened then, and although both of them still bore heavy hearts, they were able to converse on happier things.
“Truthfully, though, I have found someone, I think,” Mary went on, clearing her throat after their bout of laughter had subsided.
“Not Lord Heyer?” Elizabeth asked, clutching her arm excitedly.
“He will be at the ball tomorrow night,” Mary said coyly, unsuccessfully trying to blush. “He sent word asking that I might dance with him there.”
“Oh, how delightful!” Elizabeth exclaimed, and Mary shushed her quickly. They were nearing the house again, having completed their morning walk, and it was a little too close to risk being overheard.
“I must insist that we go in together tomorrow,” Mary whispered, just before they passed inside. “I can’t bear the excitement of it. I shall need you just in case I happen to swoon.”
Elizabeth giggled again and nodded her agreement, and the two girls parted with a wave and a smile. Mary walked the very short distance between their estates, which were on neighbouring pieces of land. The Percivals and the Shelleys had grown up close by one another, which was the origin of the expectation between Mary and Arthur. Whatever it might had been, it was over now; and Elizabeth was glad that her friend might at least get some happiness if she were to marry Lord Heyer. He was a wealthy man, a widower of not too considerable an age, who had lost his first wife in the bearing of their first child.
Elizabeth, too, was excited about the ball. She was the eldest living child of her family now, and with the Shelleys being wealthy themselves, that meant she was regarded as something of a prize in the nearby society. She had been invited to balls for the duration of the summer already, and felt a heady rush at the thought of it. Upstairs, her mother had already collected a new gown to be worn for the first ball of the season.
The preparations were swift; with her hair in the latest fashion, and wearing a fashionably pale gown with puffs of lace for sleeves, she was bundled into a carriage which she shared with her mother and Mary. Both of their fathers travelled behind in another carriage, and the whole party piled out to another estate where the ball was to be held. For the whole journey there, Mary and Elizabeth were almost breathless with excitement – running Mrs Shelley just about ragged.
Chapter 2
The estate was alive with guests, some of them arriving in carriages while others already headed inside to be received by their host. There were so many carriages parked all across the sweeping gravel entrance that they even had to wait a while to get in, with the girls almost bouncing out of their seats in anticipation. Finally, much to the relief of Mrs Shelley, they were let loose, and bounded forward like dogs after a rabbit.
Breathless, they arrived in the grand hall to admire the dancing. The air was filled with sweet music played by a small orchestra in one corner of the room, and a dance was already underway. They were not sorry to have missed the first dance of the evening – only a few couples had lined up this time, and there was plenty of opportunity yet to find themselves a partner.
Mary was looking around in almost a state of agitation, trying to catch a single hair of Lord Heyer. Finally, she saw him, dressed in a fine regimental coat that was a relic of his youth as a soldier, and at once she blushed and attempted to hide behind Elizabeth.
At last, he was able to track her down, having been searching in an animated fashion himself since he entered the room. Just as the second dance was finishing he made a deep bow in front of her, causing her to giggle behind a hand.
“If it’s not too much of an imposition on Lady Elizabeth,” he said, “I should like to take your hand for this dance, Lady Mary.”
Suddenly overcome by blushes, giggles, and downright silliness, Mary allowed herself to be lead away, glancing back over her shoulder at Elizabeth with a thrilled look. Elizabeth laughed to see her go, then retreated quietly a little to the side of the room. She enjoyed watching her friend dance for a while, alone now with no one to talk to.
All at once there was a knock at her elbow, almost enough to send her off-balance. She exclaimed and turned to see who it was, only to encounter a blue velvet jacket with a mass of dark hair above it.
“Oh, I am sorry, do excuse me, Miss,” the wearer said rapidly, turning around to face her – at which moment both of them suddenly became very still, and dark.
“You may think nothing of it, sir,” Elizabeth said coolly. “You have already done far more grievous injuries to my person before today.”
Richard Spencer straightened up in front of her, giving her a stern and almost wry look. “It was not my purpose to offend you tonight,” he said quietly. “In fact, I did not know you would be attending.”
Richard was a Marquess, son of Duke Spencer and his heir. He was also somewhat of a dashing figure: in his velvet jacket he stood out quite fi
rmly from the rest of the crowd as a fashionable town man, and he was known as an eligible bachelor. He was also rather handsome, a fact he no doubt well knew. But Elizabeth did not stand in awe of him, like the other girls who attended the ball, for one strong and simple reason: a year ago, on a bleak morning at the beginning of summer, he had faced Arthur Shelley in a duel and shot him dead.
“Do you mean to say you would have avoided this place if you had known?” Elizabeth demanded, already about to laugh in his face at the ridiculous lie.
“Not at all,” Richard protested. “I simply meant I would have shown more care. I know you must wish not to be reminded of me at this time of year.”
“So you know that we have just passed the anniversary,” Elizabeth stated, giving him a look through narrowed eyes. She was ready for a fight; the grief of Arthur’s loss was still strong, and she resented this man for his part in it.
“How could I forget?” Richard replied softly. There was something almost like regret in his dark eyes. “It is no small thing to take a man’s life.”
“And yet you managed it,” Elizabeth said, practically hissing at him. She knew that the rules of decorum demanded more of her, but she was angry. Furious, in fact. Sadness, when unresolved over time, can often reach this end.
“It is not what I would have chosen for us,” Richard began, shaking his head, but Elizabeth cut him off.
“Us? There is no such a thing as ‘us’, Lord Richard, and never shall be,” she interrupted haughtily, thinking that he intended to imply some potential courtship between them.
Richard stared at her, hesitating. “I meant, between Lord Arthur and I,” he replied at last, taken aback by her response.
They looked back at one another for a moment, both unsure of what to say. Elizabeth was breathing hard, her bosom heaving almost out of her dress with the rage that carried her, though the rest of her appearance was still immaculately styled to attract admiration. Richard had a look of lost bewilderment, drawing away the lately habitual downcast look of his face and revealing him to be a man of finely formed features. Each of them regarded the other, and for a moment they each noticed how the other was, in fact, a very attractive and eligible young person.
