The Scandalous Diary of Lily Layton

by Stacy Reid

  The darkness whispered around her, safe and sheltering, yet also electrifying and dangerous. “I want…I want your mouth on me there,” she whispered, stepping off the edge of recklessness into the freedom her heart had been hungering for.

  Chapter Three

  The words lingered in the darkness…an offer for this stranger to sweep her away. The awareness of the depth of trust she placed in him was frightening. She was giving him her body, unreservedly. But better yet, she would be able to be gloriously wanton without being reprimanded.

  “You want me to lick your slit.”

  She couldn’t fight the need that thrummed through her body. Years of pent up arousal, of hard-won control shattered in that instance. “Yes.”

  A soft hiss slipped from him, but she heard it. She felt bold, adventurous.

  Serious, reserved Lily was gone, and in her place was the woman she had always longed to be. She was a temptress…a wanton, or perhaps simply a woman indulging in mutual pleasure for the very first time. Well, she hoped pleasure would be mutual…he seemed knowledgeable of the sensual arts.

  She felt when he dipped, and then a soft kiss was pressed on her shoulders, felt the warm caress of his breath against her throat. Trepidation and excitement melded into an indistinguishable whole. He pushed her nightgown up to her waist, baring her bottom to the cool draft in the hidden passage. Lily’s breath rasped from her, and she trembled. She was allowing a stranger to touch her with such shocking familiarity. He bunched her dress in front of her and pressed her closer to the wooden panel. A large hand, smooth, without calluses, settled with firm possession on her hip.

  A gentleman. Not the hand of a worker, or a servant. One of his fingers tapped her mound, sending little vibrations to her clitoris, which rested below that taunting finger.

  “How long since your husband passed?”

  “Long enough.” Two years and three months.

  “Have you had lovers since?”

  He addled her thoughts. “How is this of import?”

  He ran his fingers down to her already damp slit. His action was so unexpected, she jolted at the contact.

  “I simply wondered how hard I could take your pussy without worrying about your sensibilities.”

  Her mind blanked, then a startling rush of pleasure burned through her, and liquid soaked his fingers. Her cheeks flamed.

  His chuckle was low and heated. “You know what I mean when I say pussy.”

  “Yes.”

  “How?”

  “I…I’ve read a few books. Memoirs of a Woman of Pleasure and others.”

  “Ah, the depraved delights of Fanny Hill. Were you shamed for reading them?”

  She closed her eyes tightly against the memories. “No one knew,” she whispered. “But I felt ashamed for what they made me crave.”

  “Did you study any of the erotic drawings?”

  “Yes.”

  He brushed his lips against the side of her neck, and she tilted her head to allow him better access.

  “What if I told you after I lick and suck your cunt…your quim…your velvet tip, I want to tup you. Do you know whereof I speak?”

  “No,” she said hoarsely, though she had some idea from the dark, lascivious way he whispered.

  He turned her gently, and her unreasonable heart wished she could discern his features.

  Unexpectedly, he cupped her most intimate area. “This is your pussy…your quim…your cunt. If you want me to be polite…your pleasure garden, your velvet sheath.”

  Lily moaned, barely able to breathe. “I don’t want polite.”

  His hands stroked upward, tugging her nightgown down to her elbows, baring her breasts to the chill in the passage. Her nipples beaded instantly. His palms molded themselves to the full mounds of her breasts, his thumbs and forefingers capturing her peaked nipples and rolling them.

  Sweet mercy.

  The sensations filling her were like nothing she could have imagined. He arched her, and his tongue stroked over the sensitive tip of her nipple. A hungry moan broke from her throat as he repeated the caress. She pressed against him, gasping for breath as his lips sucked at her breast.

  He dipped two of his fingers into her mouth, and she curled her tongue around them and sucked. Then he pulled them from her lips and traveled down to her core.

  “Open for me.”

  Her body hummed with nerves and anticipation. She complied. There was no tenderness. No caution. Just a dominant touch. She was wet, warm, slippery, inviting this stranger to caress her. Using his thumbs, he carefully parted and spread her feminine folds to rub his fingers over her sensitive nub.

  They drew a shaky breath together.

  “Open wider,” he commanded.

  Dear lord, she spread her legs even farther and invited him. He stooped and lifted one of her legs over his muscled shoulder. “Brace your hands against my shoulders,” he growled.

  She instinctively obeyed.

  He cupped her buttocks in both his palms, tugged her forward, and pressed her core to his mouth. Lily cried out, and one of his hands shot up to smother the weak, breathless sound she made. Her body shuddered at the domineering clasp over her mouth, and the feel of the long slow licks that parted her feminine folds to delve deep inside her. What they were doing was so very wrong but in all the right ways.

  He held her under the wicked lash of his tongue, and with each lick and nibble, this stranger devastated Lily’s sensibilities. He gripped her buttocks firmer, angling her closer to the stroke of his tongue. She whimpered, helpless to stop the lustful sounds spilling from her throat. Being so vulnerable and intimate with a stranger went beyond her most desperate and lustful dreams. His teeth settled over her pleasure spot, and he gently nipped, then sucked, intensifying the excruciating sensations already destroying her mind. She bit down on the flesh of his palm in a desperate bid to prevent her scream.

  She had never felt anything this good, not even in her tentative exploration of that little nub. Agonizing pleasure seared through her body, and with a muffled cry against his palm while fisting his hair, she unraveled.

  He stood, breathing harshly.

  “I’m going to take you.” Despite his rough assurance, she heard the question in his voice.

  “Yes.” The fulfillment she would feel when he entered her was enough to make her breath catch with need.

  He nudged her legs wider, gripped her hips, and lifted her. She gasped at his strength, for she was not slender, but too rounded, as her last husband often lamented. Her mysterious lover settled her on his thick thigh with an ease she found even more arousing. Lily clasped his shoulders, anchoring herself, for her feet were barely touching the ground.

  His hands brushed against her stomach as he undid the flaps of his breeches. Was he nervous? Were his hands shaking like hers? His fingers whispered over her clitoris, nearly throwing her into another climax. A large hand cupped her cheeks with surprising tenderness and pulled her lips to his. Oh! The taste of herself on his lips was strange…but arousing.

  Lily moaned softly and parted her lips to his questing tongue. How strange… She had never been kissed with such intimacy before. It was as if he savored and consumed her in equal measure. His tongue stroked her, licking her teeth, her lips. Lily gasped into the embrace, her senses shocked.

  He worked his hand between them and settled his thumb on her nub of pleasure.

  “You’re delightfully wet,” he groaned.

  “I can’t help it.”

  A hum of approval sounded, and the striking pressure against her clitoris increased with a few rough glides. She whimpered as his ministrations grew in intensity. Three fingers dipped inside her slit, opening her wider than she’d ever been before. She gasped at the unexpected stretch.

  “My lady,” he said, his voice raspy, “bury your face in my neck and bite down on my shoulder if you feel the urge to scream.”

  She did as he commanded. He pulled from her, and a hard, blunt pressure nudged her entrance. Th
e hot, swollen tip of his arousal pressed against her. There was a feeling of charged anticipation, a flash of heat, and then he thrust, parting her unused muscles, which clung too tightly, resisting his possession.

  Lily climaxed with a muffled wail on that first deep stroke. Oh, dear God.

  “Tight,” he said, the word more a grunt than anything else.

  He withdrew, the drag of his thickness forcing shivering delight through her. Her lover plunged back into her, hard and sure.

  “Ugh,” she moaned. The pleasure-pain was a burning sensation that started where they connected and spread to her throbbing clitoris. It hurt, but deliciously so.

  He rubbed her nub with quick firm strokes, filling the sensitive bundle of nerves with pained bliss. A whimper tore from her, and she bit into the soft of his neck. It was his turn to groan his appreciation.

  “Can your pussy take more?”

  Her entire body blushed at his crudeness, but her wanton heart purred.

  “Yes…no…I don’t know,” she sobbed, but her hips arched into him, demanding what her lips wouldn’t.

  He gradually withdrew from her, and her flesh resisted, the snug fit making her core ache. His hands gripped her hips even tighter, easing from her with excruciating slowness and then shoving back in. Lily wailed, mortified at the wanton sound that spilled from her. Despite the shock of being stretched open so completely, arousal burned through her body.

  “Remember, you mustn’t make a sound.” The rough carnal drawl at her ears made her wetter.

  She burrowed her lips even closer to his neck. Some unknown instincts urged her to part her lips and suck at the corded muscles of his throat. She did…and dear heavens, he glided from her and thrust deep and hard. Dark, wanton heat spread through her, and Lily found herself dropping one of her hands from his shoulder to grip his buttock. She squeezed, moaning in appreciation of the grind and flex of muscle as he surged inside her.

  “I want more,” she whispered.

  “Easy…this first time we’ll go easy. I promise after I ride you four or five times, I’ll break in your pussy for the kind of wanton fucking you’re craving.”

  “Oh God,” she whispered breathlessly, unbearably aroused by his vulgar tongue, but startled at his assurance this tryst was more than one night. Lily hadn’t thought beyond this moment. She nipped his ear, then laved the sting with her tongue. “I’m not a delicate flower, I can take more…now,” she purred. “My…my cunt can take more.”

  His grip tightened, and he groaned, then hardened even more inside her.

  “You like my vulgar tongue,” she whispered, awed and aroused by his reaction. Lily gasped when he hoisted her and walked with her still sheathed on his cock in the dark. Surprise scythed through her when he pulled from her, dropped her legs, and tugged her down…to the ground. There were several rustles, and then he eased her until she was lying on her back. From the slide of material beneath her, she surmised she was resting on his jacket. The ground was chilly and quite uncomfortable, but she did not care.

  A hand gripped her thigh and splayed her open, then his large frame blanketed her body. His cock surged inside her, and his satisfied grunt and her cry of pleasure echoed in the dark. He started to ride her, with long, deep strokes, filling her with bliss and taking away the bleak emptiness that had lingered inside for so long.

  Her legs lifted, her ankles locking at the small of his back as she arched closer.

  She clutched his shoulders helplessly and buried her face in the curve of his neck as he thrust into her clenching core with almost mindless fervor. Everything inside her collapsed and concentrated on the hard, almost brutal thrusts of his cock into her wet slit. Lily never imagined pleasure could be this sharp and all-consuming, and the fact that she did not know this man heightened her arousal to a blistering degree.

  He worked her soaked sex until she trembled and sobbed and twisted her fingers through the thick strands of his hair, and her lover did not relent. A heavy ache coiled low in her stomach, drawing tighter as the piercing sensations intensified. She lifted into his thrust, her thighs falling open wider. She couldn’t halt the scream that came from her throat as pleasure swept through her in a hot, unrelenting rush. Lily trembled, the muscles of her pussy clamping down on his cock until he could barely move. He groaned and shoved inside her repeatedly with such strength her buttocks slid against the cold ground.

  She would be bruised later, but she could only concentrate on the shock of sensations ripping through her body. He took possession of her lips in a soul-destroying kiss as he found his own pleasure, pulling from her and splaying his warm seed atop her quivering mound.

  Lily’s senses were overwhelmed, and inexplicably, she felt like crying. Tears sprang to her eyes, and she tried to swallow past the lump forming in her throat. She searched the dark and could barely discern the outline of the man poised above her. His weight supported on his elbows, her stranger lowered his forehead to hers. His heaving chest rasped against her tender nipples, and she bit back a whimper. Everywhere ached, and she hardly knew what to do with herself.

  This had been a fierce burn of insanity that was over too soon.

  Her legs slid weakly from his hips, her arms falling to her sides.

  “Are you well?” She fancied his eyes glowed with tender emotions.

  Yes… No. She had no notion of how to reply. What was there to say? This midnight encounter had rewritten everything she knew about herself. She wanted nothing more than to flee to the sanctuary of her bedchamber, to flee from this forbidden scene and the heart of the woman that had been revealed within her.

  …

  Oliver could feel the warmth of her breath on his face. Her elusive fragrance of honeysuckle and the scent of their combined arousal filled the air. He could feel the jerking rhythm of her heartbeat against his chest, and she seemed unable to respond to his concerned query. He frowned. Had he hurt her? She had been very tight, and he had been rough in his demands.

  “Did I hurt you?” Please God, let her say no. The memory of one of his mistresses crying prettily into his handkerchief after he had taken her mouth with his cock roiled through him like a bad ale. The shock of that encounter had kept him from her bed, even though she had pleaded for him to return.

  Why in God’s name hadn’t he tempered his passions more?

  “You didn’t hurt me,” she said, her voice low and husky.

  Thank Christ.

  He eased away from her, barely able to make out the white of the nightgown in the dark. He had fucked her without any care for her sensibilities. Oliver scrubbed a hand over his face, never feeling so uncertain about anything in his entire life.

  “Let me clean you,” he murmured, reaching for his handkerchief before biting back a curse. She was still sprawled on his jacket, her breathing choppy, and the silk he needed was in the pocket.

  He drew her gently to her feet, holding her as she swayed in his grip. He barely discerned her motions as she tugged her gown over her breasts.

  “I must go.”

  “Stay.”

  A sharp inhalation of shock.

  “I meant, I understand,” he said, ruthlessly tempering his responses. He didn’t want to alarm her unduly. “Allow me to escort—”

  “No!”

  He belatedly recalled her request that her identity be kept secret. From her untutored responses, he did not believe assignations like this were common to the lady. It was as if he could feel her mortification, and he knew without a doubt she was blushing furiously.

  “I…thank you for tonight. It was wonderful,” she said softly, the pleased astonishment in her tone soothing the jangle in his heart.

  “You’ve never climaxed before.”

  There was the slightest hesitation, then she replied, “No…I never knew. I must go.”

  “It will haunt me to not know who you are, my lady.”

  “I see years of torment in your future, my lord.”

  His lips twitched at her disgruntled reto
rt.

  “Please do not follow me.”

  “I swear on my honor.”

  He felt when she drifted away, her footfall a silent testimony of her familiarity with his secret passage. Who are you? After waiting for several beats, he made his way to the library. She had left the panel partially open, and he pushed it forward and stepped into the room. An elusive whisper of honeysuckle was redolent on the air. Of course, the library was empty. Still, a pang of disappointment pierced him.

  Moving to the sideboard, he grabbed a decanter and poured a generous splash of brandy into a glass. He swallowed down the liquor, the smooth burn welcoming.

  He’d been studying a few businesses that he wanted to purchase for weeks now, taking apart the finances and assessing if making an investment would be profitable. It had always amused his set that working on reviving flagging businesses, the more complicated, the better, gave Oliver a thrill that nothing could rival—except tupping a woman who was passionate enough to take him how he wanted…sinful and filthy on most days. He’d planned to work for the rest of the night, and he was mystified that he was undeniably stuck on what had just occurred.

  He could still taste her sweet, musky tartness on his tongue…and feel her tight pussy ghosting over his cock. With this unknown lover, he hadn’t even scratched the surface of the sexual needs that haunted him, yet there was a deep satisfaction lingering in his gut.

  He drew in a hard, deep breath. Would she even venture into the secret passages again?

  A knock sounded before the door was pushed open to reveal Lord Radbourne.

  “You are decidedly disheveled,” he said, closing the door and heading to the decanter of spirits.

  “And how was Lady Wimbledon?” Oliver asked, ignoring his friend’s dig at his appearance.

  The earl grinned and licked his lips. “Delicious. I dare say my feelings should be bruised, for the lady keeps hinting at a desire to have both of us between her soft thighs again, and soon.”

  Oliver frowned as no response stirred within him. “I am not enticed.”