Passion and Pride (A Historical Romance)

by Amelia Nolan

  She gasped.

  She had slept with one other man – the event that had precipitated her coming here to Blakewood. She had seen paintings, she had seen statues. None of that had prepared her for the long, thick, gorgeous member that strained from the dark curls between his muscular thighs.

  She held out one trembling hand to touch it – hesitated – and then softly, softly traced her fingers over its surface.

  The skin was like silk to the touch, but hot as a feverish brow.

  She closed her hand around it, so thick that her fingers did not meet on the other side. Despite the softness of the skin, the flesh beneath was hard as iron, and she could feel it throb in her hand.

  Evan groaned with pleasure.

  She ran her fingers up the length of his staff, and a hunger awoke in her, a lustfulness she had never felt before. If she did not feel his manhood inside her soon, she knew she would surely die.

  Evan got to his knees and frantically ripped the shift the rest of the way and pulled the pieces back like a robe. Her entire body lay naked and exposed to him.

  He gently parted her legs with his own, and she opened them wide. He positioned himself over her, and her body shivered as that thick, glorious shaft touched her belly.

  He leaned in and kissed her again, suckled her lip, and grazed her with his tongue.

  She could feel him repositioning himself atop her as he braced most of his weight on his forearms.

  She thought of that glorious, massive shaft and ached to have it inside her. She did not feel it yet – she wanted to feel it so badly, the anticipation was killing her –

  And then, slowly, slowly, he began to enter her.

  The soft head parted her nether lips and she gasped with joy. The head alone was thicker than anything she had felt before. A sweet bliss as hot as fire coursed through her lower parts.

  Slowly, slowly, the head eased into her, and she could feel the shaft sliding across her drenched lips, enslaving her with pleasure.

  Slowly, slowly, he kept going.

  He pulled back the tiniest bit, and she was afraid that he was pulling out – but no, then he slowly began penetrating her once again.

  Deeper.

  Deeper.

  She could not believe it – how long it was, how thick it was, how thoroughly it filled her.

  There was the tiniest bit of pain, but it was washed away by the indescribable (and growing) ecstasy that flooded her from head to toe.

  Once he was entirely inside her, when his hips pressed tight to hers, he sought her mouth and penetrated her again with his tongue, so that he was deep inside her twice over.

  Then he began to slowly withdraw… and slowly, slowly move back inside her.

  Her breath came in jagged gasps. She could not believe the waves of delight that receded the slightest, then doubled in intensity, as he slipped a few inches out of her and reentered her even deeper than before.

  He pulled his lips away from hers and began to kiss at her neck.

  Blood sang in her ears. Her skin flushed as his lips tickled her.

  She had died and gone to heaven.

  If only Paradise were like this! she thought.

  And then it got even better.

  He began to move faster, thrusting deeper, stroking her at depths she had never imagined possible. Spasms of pleasure shot out from her loins as that long, thick shaft slid out of her, then thrust back in.

  She gripped his back and slid her hands down lower to his muscular buttocks. They were firm and hard and round under her palms, and they bucked like wild horses as they drove his rod deeper and faster inside her.

  A pressure began to build in her, a mounting whirlwind of pleasure, a giant wave that would ebb, then increase, then ebb, then increase even more, as his thickness strained at her loins, opening her wider, making her wetter, firing her desire with a furious ecstasy that no poem or novel or written word could ever do justice.

  Faster and faster his manhood drove into her, harder and harder, seemingly thicker and more pleasurable with every stroke. Or perhaps that was just her growing rapture as her own bliss swelled and seemed to expand to every inch of her body.

  His frenzy was at a height, as was hers. She realized with what rational mind she still possessed that she was moaning aloud, gasping, “Oh God, oh God, oh God,” over and over again as the delightful contractions within her began to come quicker, and harder, and swell bigger and faster as they overlapped and built to a towering crescendo.

  She was soaring like an eagle. She was filled with liquid gold.

  And suddenly the mountain of light her body had been climbing grew to such a peak that she could no longer tell the difference between her body and the joy that suffused it. Her entire being exploded in a spasm of delight, over and over again, that made her back arch and her legs strain and her entire core shudder with delirium.

  She was vaguely aware that she was screaming.

  And then she heard his voice, a low, guttural “GOD!” and she felt his thickness inside her expand, quick as lightning, then again, in hard spasms that came one after another and throbbed against her drenched lips and lifted her own pleasures even higher.

  Her spasms of delight gradually decreased in intensity, floating down slowly like a feather, but leaving behind a radiating pleasure that filled her with warmth and happiness.

  Evan ceased thrusting within her and collapsed on her body, his damp hair grazing her cheek. She breathed in the salty musk of him and clutched her hands at his back, pressing him as tight against her as she could.

  She felt his lips graze her cheek, then work their way slowly to her mouth, where he lingered for a slow, hot, long, deep kiss.

  When he finally pulled his mouth away, he stared deep into her eyes, and she lost herself in their depths.

  Then he smiled at her.

  She smiled back, a radiant smile, so big it felt as though it filled her entire being.

  She was happier than she had ever been in her entire life.

  12

  Evan eased himself off Marian’s body and lay next to her in the grass.

  My God…

  He was an experienced man of the world, but nothing – nothing – in his past could compare with what had just happened.

  The physical ecstasy of their union… the utter rapture of hearing her gasp and moan as he was inside her… the feelings of tenderness and love she inspired in him as he gazed into her eyes…

  He wanted to hold her, to kiss her, to touch her everywhere. He let one hand idly play across her breasts, then softly trace her belly.

  She watched him, smiling the entire time. “I have been hoping for this from the moment you first stopped the carriage and saved my life.”

  He smiled, too, and kissed her again, soft and lingering. “So have I.”

  “In the garden that night – why did you run away?”

  His face darkened. “From the moment you entered my father’s house, you were under my protection. I have a rule… had a rule. I have behaved dishonorably by breaking it.”

  She gave him a half-smile, half-frown, as though she could not understand. “And what is this rule?”

  “Never to proposition a servant, ever, because she cannot say no without fear of retribution. To do so would be to… to force myself upon her.”

  Her fingers brushed his jaw and she laughed softly. “Silly man. You cannot force yourself on someone who desperately wishes you to do so.”

  Sadness touched him as he thought, But I cannot marry you.

  However, he knew that to utter those words would break her heart… and his, as well. So he kept away from them, but argued another point that vexed him greatly.

  “But you are younger than I am. I fear I have taken advantage of you…”

  She squinted at him. “Do you think me stupid?”

  The question took him aback. “No, of course not.”

  “Do you think me a simpleton?”

  “Obviously not.”

  “
Do you concede that my life is my own, and I have my own right to live it?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then do me the honor of letting me decide what I want to do, and whom I want to do it with.”

  “But – but your reputation – ”

  “Are you going to go prattling about this to everyone?”

  “No!”

  “Well then, what of it?”

  “But if someone should find out – ”

  “Not that it is any business of theirs, but if they did, I should not give a damn.”

  The sentiment – and the language, coming from her – startled him. “That is not the world we live in.”

  “Oh? What world do we live in?”

  “A world where what a person does, matters.”

  “You mean, a world where what a woman does in bed matters.”

  He shifted uncomfortably. “If you wish to put it in so indelicate a manner… yes.”

  “Tell me, why does it matter so much?”

  “Because of morality – societal conventions – ”

  “Societal conventions, perhaps. Morality, no, because men do the same and worse, and are never penalized for it. It matters because women let it matter. We have always been at the mercy of men, but rather than resist, we live out the roles men prescribe for us, and meekly take the punishments they dole out. I for one would rather die with my freedom than live under a yoke of stupidity, cruelty, and hypocrisy.”

  Evan thought, Easy to say, when you have never been turned out into the streets and forced into begging or prostitution in order to survive. But his conscience pained him, because if that happened, he would be the one to blame for it.

  Instead he answered, “That smacks of your American heroes Paine and Jefferson.”

  She smiled. “Paine was an Englishman.”

  “I still am an Englishman – and as an Englishman and a gentlemen, no matter how blissful and astounding the last fifteen minutes, I feel I have committed a grievous sin by taking advantage of you.”

  She rolled over to him and kissed him. “Even if you did take advantage of me, I hope and pray you will do so again… and again… and again. Repeatedly and often.”

  He laughed and kissed her back.

  13

  After a few more kisses, he pulled away from her. “We should get you back to the house, or your reputation surely will be compromised.”

  Marian broke off and grimaced. He was right, of course… she had been gone close to an hour. If her absence had not been noted yet, it soon would be.

  “All right…but let us wash off first.”

  Evan stood and looked around, worried that someone might see them.

  She laughed at him, though when she remembered the two villains who had emerged from the woods, she reconsidered. His caution was admirable… in most cases.

  To think we could have been doing this for weeks now, if not for his stupid rule!

  Evan apparently decided they were alone, because he reached down and pulled her to her feet. She shrugged off her shift, now torn and grass-stained.

  “I am sorry about that,” he said.

  She smiled mischievously. “I am not.”

  “I’ll get you another.”

  “Get me a dozen so that you can rip them all off me.”

  As he laughed, she took the opportunity to admire his body. Clothed, he was handsome; naked, he was gorgeous. He looked like a Greek God, tall and well-built, as the sweat from their exertions and the afternoon heat ran down his body. On closer inspection, there were a number of small scars across his chest and arms – thin, straight lines, like knife cuts. She could only see them because of the contrast between his skin and the lighter scars.

  His shoulders and arms were powerful, his chest broad, his legs strong and lean. His muscled belly led enticingly down to that glorious thatch of dark curls and his thick, heavy member. Even though it had shrunk considerably, it was still quite large. Though she never would have said it of any of the statues or paintings she had seen – or of the single other one she had touched in real life, which had slightly repulsed her – Evan’s was almost beautiful, like a perfectly sculpted piece of pink marble. She watched it, hypnotized, as it dangled there between his legs…

  …and then began to grow, a miracle before her very eyes, as it lengthened and thickened with every heartbeat.

  She looked up and realized he had been watching her as she stared at his endowment. His cheeks were slightly red.

  She blushed, too… but her eyes were drawn back to the swelling staff as it slowly began to point outwards rather than down.

  “May I… may I touch it?” she whispered timidly.

  He did not say anything, but nodded, a look of strained passion upon his face.

  She reached out one hand haltingly, as she did when they were lying on the ground. This time when she touched it, the thing leaped with a throbbing contraction. She gasped and withdrew in surprise.

  He laughed. She joined him, and then reached out again.

  She took it in her hand and marveled. She could feel it expanding, hardening, the heat beneath the flesh scalding her palm. Her own loins began to throb again with the ache of desire.

  “We should get in the water,” he said, his voice thick with desire.

  She nodded, reluctantly let go of his manhood, and took his hand. He led her down to the pond.

  After the hot, sweaty tangle of their intertwined bodies, the cool of the water was heavenly. It kissed her legs and belly as she walked out deeper.

  From where he stood beside her, Evan dove into the pond and came up a few feet away. As he wiped the water from his face, she again admired his body, the coursing of the water down his muscles – and his skyward-pointing manhood, which jutted from the surface of the water, now even thicker and harder.

  She waded through the water towards him. This time she did not ask, but put her hand out and stroked it, watching his face as she did so.

  His head tilted back and he groaned with pleasure.

  Then he leaned down and kissed her. His wet skin felt cool to the touch, but his firm, thick rod pressed like a hot iron against her belly.

  Then he reached down, put one arm under her arse and the other around her lower back, and hoisted her into the air.

  She did not quite understand until he whispered in her ear, “Put your legs around me.”

  She wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist – and then she understood as he lowered her, slowly, upon his upright staff.

  It took a second of fumbling, but she angled her hips and was rewarded with a burst of pleasure as the head slipped between her throbbing lips.

  She cried out. This time his entry was faster, and ecstasy racked her as she sank down upon the full length of him in a matter of seconds.

  He began to thrust his pelvis slowly back and forth while lifting her up and down with his arms. She moaned, and could barely hold onto his neck or keep her legs around him. The pleasure of that massive thickness inside her, filling her over and over, was so great that it weakened her limbs – yet she hung on for dear life.

  The water lapped at her thighs and legs, caressing them sensually, as Evan’s mouth found hers and kissed her hard and long.

  At one point he lowered both her and himself under water, and she gasped again – from the shock of the cool water against her skin, or the bliss radiating from her thighs, she could not say.

  He supported her with his strong hands and tilted her back, and sucked at her nipples as he continued to thrust. She could contain herself no longer, and began to cry out in exquisite anguish.

  This time her climax came sooner than his. Waves of pleasure crashed through her body even more intensely than before, and she felt as though her limbs might turn to jelly. When the sensations abated – though they still ebbed and flowed with his every thrust inside her – she looked up into Evan’s face and watched with awe the mixed look of suffering and delight that played across his features. As he came to
his fullest joy, he cried out as though he had been stabbed, and then he sank down to her mouth and drank deeply of her kisses.

  They stayed like that, with him inside her, until his granite hardness turned back to flesh and he gradually slipped out of her body. Still they kissed, and bathed each other in the pond, until he whispered in her ear that it was time to go.

  They walked out of the water, hand in hand, naked as the first man and woman in the Garden of Eden. They dried the water from each other’s bodies, and finally she stood dressed in her servant’s clothes and he in his trousers, boots, and shirt.

  “I can take you back to the house,” he offered.

  “I had better walk. If you would, wait here until I’m back inside. Just to be safe.”

  “I thought you didn’t care about your reputation,” he teased.

  “Not caring is one thing. Being foolish is quite another,” she harrumphed.

  She took his hand and stared into his eyes, wanting to never leave this tiny oasis.

  He caressed her cheek. “Why so sad?”

  “Because it’s over.”

  And I fear I shall not have this again, she thought silently.

  He smiled and kissed her. “Just for now.”

  Her heart leaped in her chest. “Promise me you’ll see me again.”

  “As though you need a promise!”

  She cocked one eyebrow and said only half in jest, “I fear your quarrelsome honor will rear its ugly head again and deprive me of a thousand pleasures.”

  He grinned.

  “Promise!” she demanded.

  “I promise.”

  “Tonight.”

  He arched his eyebrows and smiled. “Don’t you have to rest?”

  “Promise me!”

  He thought for a second. “Do you know the second story bedrooms in the eastern wing?”

  The east wing – through which she had escaped to come to the pond – was largely deserted. The manor was large enough to house three generations and a dozen children, yet there were only an old man, his two adult sons, and a small company of servants to fill all the rooms.

  “Of course.”

  “Meet me at the very end of the hall at ten o’clock?”

  “I will be there,” she said breathlessly.