John swallowed the last bite of his meal, laid his knife and fork down, and asked, “Am I correct in assuming Deborah has been returned unharmed to her family?”
“In the next few hours she will be suffering from a very tired hand. She has most likely just begun copying her one hundred hexameters of Homer’s Iliad.”
“The old Eton punishment? Whatever did she do to deserve that? And why Homer instead of Latin?” asked John.
Barnabas gave him a brief version of the previous day’s events, ending with, “She really is a very intelligent child. The fact that she could do a thirteen-year-old’s mathematics homework without having been to any of the classes makes that plain. Simeon is going to hire a retired parson to teach her Greek and Latin, and the Iliad is as good a place as any to begin.
“If she still wants to learn Greek after that punishment it will prove she is suited to the study indeed,” said John.
“The real question is, what to do with her in the future. Sending her back to school with extra classes is all very well for now, but she wants to study geography and military strategy and other things as well that the school will struggle to provide. I wonder if there’s a retired military strategist Simeon could employ to teach her on Saturdays or something instead of her doing one of the subjects she dislikes so much?” said Theodora.
John smiled at her. “Military strategy consists of three main parts—logistical, strategic, and tactical. In many ways a woman who organizes huge balls or political dinners for ambassadors and suchlike uses these skills in her planning. Just getting the seating arrangement correct for a political dinner can be as delicate a balancing act as any military maneuver.”
Theodora turned to him, her face lighting up in a way that made his cock stand up and pay attention. Damn it was going to be a long three weeks until they were married! “I wager Simeon hasn’t thought of it like that. If it was explained to Deborah that the two things were related, I’m sure she’d pay more attention to her lessons. At the moment she sees no reason to learn such things, but if she could think of it as training to be a very successful military wife or ambassador’s wife, I’m sure she would be more content at school.”
“Having seen the way she can outmatch the entire pack of you at the age of nine, I don’t doubt she’ll be the perfect wife for a general at the very least,” said Barnabas’ mama somewhat tartly.
The conversation then turned to their wedding, and John had to take his gaze off Theodora so he could concentrate on the three weeks of planning and not on his wedding night. The first of many nights with them alone in a comfortable bed so he could make love to her over and over and over again, arousing her to that exquisite point, then letting her drop back so he could bring her to the peak again and again, never letting her fly over it until he could bear it no longer and they would both explode in passion.
****
Madame Giselle made Theodora a lovely silver gown for her wedding dress, trimmed in lace and with a demi-train. She also provided a vast quantity of undergarments and night rails, also trimmed in lace, some of them such sheer muslin Theodora blushed when she saw them made up.
Her mama was a veritable fount of knowledge about a woman’s duties, providing a number of useful hints that Theodora filed away in her mind. When she’d mentioned Patience and the notion of preventing a pregnancy though, her mother’s face had closed over and she’d said some men would never wear a French letter and it was not a suitable topic of conversation for a lady. However, now that she had a clue, Theodora planned to investigate French letters further.
As for her wedding night, she was looking forward to it very much and had hopes of keeping John’s interest even if he never came to love her. She was determined to create a pleasant home for him, a place where he would want to spend his time, with good food, comfortable furniture, and entertaining conversation.
His sister, Anne, would become her new sister by marriage. Having had only the one brother, a man some years older than herself, she had now added two sisters by law to her family, and that pleased her very much.
The ladies from the parish helped decorate the church with flowers, so the old stone building looked and smelled wonderful, almost like a garden. Barnabas conducted the brief ceremony, and as she spoke the solemn vows out loud, Theodora made a silent one to herself. John may never love her, but she would do her utmost to ensure he enjoyed her company and came regularly into her bed. Even if it meant being most unladylike.
Chapter Four
Theodora pulled all her new night rails out of the drawer and looked at them. John had never seen her naked, never seen her skin, and the bits of her he had exposed, such as her breasts, had only been seen in the dim light of the lanterns in the Featherby’s garden. So what she wanted was one thin enough to hint at what was under it but not so transparent that he didn’t bother to undress her. Or was she misunderstanding the male mind? After all, they’d not taken any clothes off at all that night. So maybe he wasn’t a person who liked to look. But she liked to look. She wanted to see him. She wanted to touch him too, and mama had said men liked it when a woman stroked their manhood. Not that she’d actually used the word “manhood” of course. She’d waggled her fingers.
Theodora replaced the sheerest muslins in her drawer and looked at the more demure night rails. Two in white and one in lemon. Virginal white didn’t seem quite right somehow. She was already a woman and not the least little bit sorry about that fact. So mayhap the lemon. The decision made, she rang for her maid to prepare her for bed.
Should she wait for him in the bed? Or sitting in front of her mirror? Resting in her armchair? And, dear heavens, what if he wasn’t even going to come to her room? No, no, he’d only married her to save her honor so he had to come to her this night at least. Her task was to make it so enjoyable for him that he wanted to keep coming back to her.
Awash with emotions, Theodora allowed the maid to settle her in the bed, her back leaning against a pile of pillows. Now what? Was she supposed to just sit here and wait quietly? What if he spent hours drinking port? Should she have brought a book to read while she waited? Mama hadn’t given her any advice for this part of the program.
Anxiety was tying her stomach in knots. She wanted so desperately to do this right, to weave a seductive web around him from which he’d never want to disentangle himself, to bind him to her with lust if not with love. However everything was dependent on him actually coming into her bedroom!
Theodora tried to calm her raging emotions by picturing his body. He was a big man, tall, well built with broad shoulders. He seemed very strong, so she imagined the corded muscles along his arms and legs. His hair and eyes were darker than hers, as was his skin color. He was not precisely tanned, not like Simeon Arnott, who worked on the farm and got sunburned, but it was not the milk-white shade of hers, but a healthy light brown.
Of course she’d never seen a man’s organ, but she’d bathed infant boys as well as infant girls and had a general idea of what it must look like. She’d had the merest glimpse of John’s as he’d taken it out of his breeches before it was hidden under her skirts. And she definitely remembered the way it had stretched and filled her and given her the most wonderful sensations, ten times better than her own fingers. She wanted to look at it properly and touch it. “Stroke it as you would a kitten, smoothly, gently but firmly,” her mama had told her. Theodora hoped he would let her touch him tonight.
Her breasts grew heavy at the thought of stroking his manhood. All that leashed male power under her hand—
The sound of a light cough made her look up from her thoughts and there was John, standing in the doorway, his gaze fixed on her breasts, which instantly began to ache with the need to be touched. Her nipples pebbled and pressed against the thin fabric of her night rail. Surely he would notice.
He was such a fine figure of a man. The very picture of a gentleman. He’d shed his coat and his cravat, his creamy cotton shirt was open at the neck, and he wore simple shoes, not boots on his fe
et. Suddenly she realized he’d taken off everything that would require his valet’s help and was wearing only the items he could easily remove and replace himself.
She’d often wished her own gowns were easier to fasten, but it had never occurred to her until now that a man was equally handicapped by firmly fitting coats and boots.
“May I come in?”
She blushed. Where had her manners gone? “Of course, please do.”
He came and sat on the side of the bed. “I’m sorry the first time was so rushed. This time will be much better for you. I promise you’ll receive pleasure.”
Her blush deepened. She could feel the heat from her face, neck, and breasts warming her entire body. Nevertheless she looked him in the eye. “I had pleasure in the garden. But I do confess I’ll enjoy taking more time and having the comfort of a bed. And being undressed,” she finished on a whisper.
Shall we start over then?” he suggested.
She nodded.
He cupped her face in his two big hands then gently pressed his lips to hers. His lips were warm and soft yet firm under hers. Automatically she leaned against him, reaching up to hold onto his shoulders and deepen the kiss. Her lips opened and she flicked her tongue against his, wanting more of him, wanting his tongue in her mouth as much as she wanted his manhood inside her body.
He groaned and pulled her upper body tightly against him. His chest was like a wall of solid rock, yet it gave off enough heat to sear her flesh. His kisses were more addictive than the finest French wine and just as intoxicating.
Wanting more, much more, she rubbed her aching breasts against his chest, her nipples hard little points that responded to his heat by almost trying to climb inside his skin. She wanted to touch all of him, pull all of him into her, to be truly united with him.
Finally they broke apart. His eyes were heavy-lidded and his gaze on her burned with intensity. He pushed the blanket off her and pulled her off the bed and onto her feet. “Let me undress you. This time I want to see every inch of your skin, to touch you all over.”
I want that too,” she replied.
It only took him a few moments to untie the ribbons on her night rail and let it fall to the floor. Then he sank to his knees, tugging her against him again, as he kissed and licked his way across her breasts then trailed a line of damp kisses to her navel. He stopped to nibble around her bellybutton for a while before continuing downward, finally sucking her nubbin into his mouth.
She shoved her fist in her mouth so she wouldn’t call out with surprise. Mama hadn’t said anything about this! But oh, it felt so good. His tongue was rasping back and forward over the tiny button, and her entire body was melting under the scorching heat of his touch. Cream dripped from her woman’s place, dampening her inner thighs, and he must have felt it.
John pushed her legs wider apart, sank lower on his heels, and licked the length of her woman’s place, lapping her cream like a kitten.
She had to bite down on her fist to prevent herself from screaming in pleasure. Just when she thought she might explode in ecstasy, he drew away from her and kissed her mouth. She tasted herself on him. It was strange. Not repulsive, but quite different. Eagerly she leaned in to kiss him deeper, flicking her tongue into his mouth to savor herself on him.
Their tongues intertwined and danced, thrusting in and withdrawing for long moments before he broke off the kiss so they could take air into their lungs again.
When he drew back she began to unbutton his shirt. More than anything she wanted to run her palms over his solid chest, to feel his heat skin to skin, to stroke his back—and his organ.
He helped her by unfastening the uppermost buttons while she undid the lower ones then agreeably wiggled his waist as she lifted the shirt free. At last the shirt dropped to the floor and she could see him. He truly was a fine figure of a man. His torso was sculpted and defined, a delight for her eyes. Tentatively she ran her hands over his chest, loving his heat and the way his muscles responded to her touch. Growing bolder, she stroked his back, feeling his spine and his shoulder blades. Greatly daring, she slid her hands lower inside his breeches to cup his taut, flat ass.
She watched his face as she let her hands creep around to the front of his body again. His manhood was stretching the fabric of his breeches, but even so she was surprised at how enormous it felt in her hands. Hot, thick, and long. Holding it in one hand she used the other to undo the buttons of the fall front, and then she was able to bring it out and look at it.
The head was quite red, and there was a tiny drop of his seed in the eye. Remembering her mama’s hints, she stroked his shaft from root to tip and back again, then she cupped his sac in one hand, held his manhood still with the other, and bent forward to lick up the pearl of his essence.
John groaned aloud then gently pushed her away from him. “It was all over much too quickly last time. This time I want to take it slowly.”
Obediently she sat back down on the side of the bed and watched while he took his shoes, stockings, and breeches off. He walked around the bed, pulled the blanket down to the foot of it, and lay on his side, facing her.
“Come to me, my beautiful wife,” he said quietly.
She swung her legs up onto the bed and shimmied across to him, not sure how close to get, so remained slightly apart from him, even though she longed to touch him some more.
He rolled her under him and straddled her, taking his weight on his knees.
“Your breasts are beautiful, my dear. So soft and white, and just the right size to fit a man’s hand.”
He accompanied his words with the appropriate actions, taking a breast in each hand and holding it then teasing the nipples with his thumbs. “They taste delicious too,” he added, sucking the nipples into his mouth one after the other, moving his head from side to side, licking and sucking until her breasts were once again aching with need.
Deep inside, she was aching too. Wanting him to possess her again, to fill and stretch her and give her that wonderful release.
When he sat up straighter to play with her breasts, teasing the nipples with his fingers, she was able to stare at his manhood. She wanted to roll his foreskin down and look at the head properly. Right now, only the top was visible, and it was more red than the shaft. In the brief moments when she’d touched him, it had felt different too. Softer, more responsive. She’d like to lick more than just the tip. When he’d licked her it had been such a wonderful feeling she was sure licking him would be enjoyable for them both.
But just as she was readying herself to touch him, he slid down her body a little and drove two fingers deep inside her woman’s place. “Ohhh,” she whimpered, trying to press her hips up onto his hand, to take him deeper.
He withdrew his fingers and held his manhood at her entry, then, gazing into her eyes, he thrust deep inside her in a single stroke. His shaft was so much better than fingers. Her channel stretched around him, hugging him close so that he touched every inch of her.
Still with his gaze on her face, he wiggled deep between her legs until their bodies were pressed tightly together, her hips forced wide apart as he withdrew, leaving her feeling bereft and lonely, only to drive deep again.
After several strokes like this, he picked her legs up and put them over his shoulders. He pushed even closer to her now, tilting her rear up a little so that he not only filled her but drove so deep inside her she could think of nothing but him, feel nothing but him, want nothing but him.
Over and over again, he thrust into her, only to withdraw and thrust again.
Her belly was crawling and itching with the need for completion. All she could see was his face, all she could smell was his manly scent. Her hands gripped his shoulders so she could rise into every beat of his hips. His forehead was creased with concentration as he stroked in and out of her, his hands on her hips, moving her just enough so that every touch from him caused a fire of desire inside her to flare brighter.
Then the peak was coming, rolling throug
h her like a storm across the sky. Quickly Theodora grabbed a pillow from beside her and stuffed a corner of it in her mouth to muffle the scream she knew was about to explode from her. John slammed hard inside her and the pleasure broke, crashing through her, sending shards of joy from her toes to her head and everywhere in between.
She bit down hard on the pillow as her body shook and warm heat flooded through her. John pushed inside her again and yet again. Then she felt his seed burst from him, another wave of heat deep inside her. He held her tightly and they shook together as her muscles gripped his manhood over and over until they finally relaxed together.
John rolled them onto their sides, his body still inside hers, and held her close. He stroked her back and hips and she wiggled even tighter against him, loving his touch.
She lay in his arms, perfectly content, as he stroked and petted her. After awhile she touched him too, loving the hard muscles and bones of his back and sides. His hips shifted between hers and she realized with astonishment, that his organ, which had become quite a lot smaller after he’d given her his seed, was now getting bigger again.
We can do it again? Twice? So soon. Huzzah!
Happily she stroked his rear, cupping his ass cheeks and relishing his taut muscles. Then she moved her palms up and down his spine and over his shoulders, enjoying the different sensations of bone, muscle, and skin.
His hips began pumping into her with purpose, and he pulled her leg up higher on his, giving him more access to her. His hand stayed there on her inner thigh, holding her leg up, his fingers teasing her woman’s place.
Hot desire burned through her. Suddenly she needed much more than that delicate touch. She grasped his buttocks and pulled him against her until his pelvis was grinding against hers and his fingers were trapped. Frantically she rose into his strokes, wanting more, harder, something.
His fingernail pressed into her nubbin and the shards of pleasure-pain raced through her blood, sending her spiraling over the cliff into release. He pumped into her fast, once, twice, thrice, then he released his seed, the heat of him sending another wave of delight through her.
Almost a Virgin (Virgins No More) Page 4
