His cock grew a bit bigger and harder to restrain.
Gently, Dulcie touched light fingertips along the ridge of lumpy tissue running from his rib cage around to his back. “Oh, Griff,” she moaned, sucking in a breath. Ducking her head, she kissed him there, touching him and licking him with the tip of her tongue in an erotic caress.
His skin quivered beneath her loving ministrations. He gently drew her face up toward his and lowered his mouth on hers. This time their kiss was filled with both excitement and desire. Emotions flowed between them like heady wine. In no time their passion escalated into lust and passionate, carnal desire.
Griff raised his head. He smoothed the rough tip of his right index finger along the confining top edge of her corset, teasing her and watching her reaction.
Dulcie inhaled deeply, her breasts almost bursting from their confining nest.
Quickly, Griff pulled open the tabs holding her petticoats on. Next, he loosened the laces of the lightweight corset, allowing it to fall off her hips. She stepped out of the garment and kicked it away.
Dulcie was only a short distance from the bed, but they hadn’t gotten that far yet. She still wore a sheer, low-necked chemise, her silk stockings, and leather slippers. He saw the deep pink of her nipples and the shadow of her pubic hair quite clearly through the garment. She took a step back, but he followed. He reached up and pulled the hairpins out of her elaborate, wedding coiffure until the heavy tresses tumbled onto her shoulders and bare back.
She stood mesmerized as he ran caressing fingers through her shiny locks. Her eyes were closed, her lips parted as she breathed rapidly. He clasped the back of her skull in his palms and devoured her mouth with a tiger’s growl. “God, Dulcie, I want you so much!”
Wrapping her arms around his torso, she pulled his bare chest against her bosom, a feeling so wondrous and satisfying that she emitted a soft moan. She tucked questing fingers under the waistband of his trousers until she encountered a large bulge beneath the front flap. She fumbled hurriedly to undo the buttons.
Before she could finish undressing him, Griff knelt in front of her, grasping her buttocks with both hands and resting his mouth against her pubic mound, burying his nose in her womanly perfume.
As he pressed his face into the most intimate place on her body, Dulcie watched, stroking the sun-streaked, close-cropped hair while sensuous lips nuzzled between her thighs. She moved and grabbed his shoulders. Between her legs, she felt the hot air escaping from his nose and mouth, heating her senses as well as her bare flesh as he kissed her there with his tongue.
“No, oh no, Griff, you mustn’t!”
“Don’t stop me, Dulcie! Let me love you the way I want to.” He straightened up then, and removed her chemise in one swift movement, leaving her with only garters holding up her silk stockings.
Dulcie flipped her slippers off as he gently pushed her backward onto the bed.
He yanked off his shoes and stockings, and undid the rest of the buttons on the trouser flap that Dulcie had missed. He tugged his pants down and off his hips and shanks in seconds. He stood naked next to the bed, gazing down at her, his proud cock jutting up from the dark blond hair at its roots.
* * * *
Through slitted lids, Dulcie appraised the well-made specimen of manhood before her. She had always thought him beautiful, a flesh and blood, Greek god, and now she knew why. His skin glowed with warmth, the tiny hairs on his arms, chest, and legs, took on a lovely golden haze of their own. Only the thick, puckered ridge of his wound stood out in stark relief again his muscled male torso. Her eyes next descended to his extraordinary, rampant, rigid appendage.
“Open your legs, love,” Griff asked, his voice low and urgent as he knelt and slowly nudged his way between her thighs. He paused a moment to gaze into her face. “I want to touch you again where no man else has. I want to sip your woman’s nectar from the delicious opening between your thighs, devour your taste until I’ve had my fill of you.” He gently pushed her legs wider. “You can’t know how long I wanted to make love to you again. Let me do what I want, Dulcie. Please.”
“Oh God, Griff,” she gulped, “if I’m to act the harlot, then do what you want with me, make me yours and yours alone. Take me now, please, I beg you.”
Dulcie lay back, giving him permission and closing her eyes, letting him have his way with her body.
He brushed a few erotic kisses over the soft fuzz of her Venus mound and quickly spread the slick lips of her pussy open with his thumbs. Exposing her intimately to his eyes, he swiped an expert loving tongue along the tiny sheath encasing her sex. He teased and taunted it, again and again, the honey of her arousal filling his nose and mouth as he ate her essence.
She writhed with pleasure beneath him.
Dulcie tossed her head from side to side, waiting for the explosion that could tip her over the brink into glorious, climactic convulsions.
Griff continued slowly, inserting a single finger into the slick, burning channel of her vagina. He stroked a lone finger inside her before adding a second digit. He pressed his biceps between her thighs to hold her legs open, then returned to suck hard on the tiny sheath than held the tiny sex bud. It seemed to grow and swell, pulsing with need.
Alternately, he pulled on it and licked around the sides. He rubbed the walls of her vagina until they finally spasmed around his fingers.
“Oh, oh, oooh!” Her squeals reverberated across the room. In seconds more, she screamed with a carnal howl of pleasure as a strong series of tremors lifted her hips off the mattress.
Griff pulled his fingers out and lunged upward to straddle her upper thighs. Leaning down, he tightened his arms around her, holding her while she went through the throes of pleasure during her climax, kissing her neck and collarbone. Finally, the shivers of satisfaction eased and she released a deep, shuddering breath.
“Oh God, Griff. That was…umm…earthshaking.”
I am not a nymphomaniac, she vowed silently. But women who enjoy these carnal pleasures shouldn’t be given names like lightskirt or ladybird. I’m a married woman and I love the carnal pleasure Griff gives me.
“I could learn to enjoy that, Griff…umm…every single day,” she told him wickedly.
He grinned from ear to ear. “I should hope so,” he replied, his white teeth glistening between his smiling lips. “But there’s more, sweetheart, even more pleasure for me to give you.”
She grinned up at him, holding his handsome cheeks in her hands. “Then don’t stop now,” she challenged.
“Courage, Dulcie,” he laughed, lightheartedly. “If you plan to wring me dry, I’ll do my best, sweetheart, to keep up. We have tonight…and yes, love…the rest of forever.”
Griff made love to her three times more on their wedding day, between nodding off to rest and then waking to find they were starving. They rang for a tea tray while in their bed robes and left the leftovers outside his bedchamber door. They laughed and stripped down to bare skin again as they raced for the big bed.
The last words they shared, when they finally fell into a deep slumber was, “I love you.”
* * * *
No one dared knock on the newlywed’s bedroom door. The sun rose and the morning brightened to ten o’clock the next day before any voices were heard to emanate from behind the room’s thick oak portal.
Marnie was the first to tap lightly on it, another housemaid bringing up the rear with a second tray.
“Who is it?” Griff called out, his voice rough with sleep.
“’Tis me, Mr. Spencer. I ordered two breakfast trays brung up for ye.”
Griff glanced over at Dulcie who lay in the bed naked, her back propped against a pile of pillows, wiggling a coaxing index finger at him. He had gotten out of the bed and now stood next to the door ready to crack it open.
“Er, Marnie, just leave the trays outside the door. We’ll come out to get them shortly.”
A sultry grin on his wife’s face had his cock raising its velvet head aga
in. “You’re going to kill me within a single day, you know, Dulcie,” he whispered, his eyes gleaming with desire as he approached the bed.
She reached over and took hold of his rampant penis. It jerked in her palm, but she stroked her fingers up and down the length until it grew even bigger and harder.
“Bloody hell, Dulcie,” he whined a little, panting and breathless. “You’re a married woman. You shouldn’t be taunting a man like that.”
“Do you want me to stop?” she asked, tartly. She touched an index finger to the tiny slit in his cock and brought the fluid to the tip of her tongue. She licked away the tiny drop and taunted him from under drooping eyelids.
Smiling wickedly, he was on her in two seconds. She giggled and fondled his balls with both hands when he rose over her closed thighs. The two rolled around on the mattress, playing, and chuckling with carnal laughter until Dulcie got the upper hand and landed atop him.
Then things changed suddenly. His stormy, gray eyes glinted behind thick lashes. Dulcie noticed tiny flames of passion igniting those inscrutable eyes.
Griff relaxed, folded his hands behind his head, and said, “Do your worst, little minx. I am yours—to do with whatever you want.”
Dulcie scooted lower on his enticing body and licked around his upright cock. Very slowly, she caressed it one hand, smoothing up and down his thick penis. She touched the plum-colored head with the tip of her tongue again. When he didn’t seem to react, she circled him tighter and stroked her fingers faster, rubbing a bit harder, tantalizing the loose skin on his shaft.
Without warning, Griff flipped her over, pinned Dulcie flat to the mattress, and plunged his cock into her core. It took only a minute or two for the both of them to come together.
“I think we’re getting the hang of it, Dulcie,” he said, his heartbeat at last slowing to normal. “But we had better get a move on and stick our noses outside of this bedchamber sometime today. Don’t you think so?”
“Oh really?” The look on her face said differently. “Well, I s’pose, if we must…”
“I promise you,” Griff replied, “we’ll return to this bed for more delights this evening.”
Griff rose a second time and stretched his body. He looked down at the pile of wrinkled clothes on the floor near the bed. Both Dulcie and he had given their personal servants time off for the next few days. Marnie seemed to have forgotten, but Griff had no idea where his valet was. When he picked up his wedding jacket, he suddenly remembered.
* * * *
When Bender had told them three weeks ago there was a message from the countess, Griff hadn’t thrown it into the flames as Dulcie requested, because he knew it was not written in Agina’s hand. Now Griff pulled it out of his jacket pocket and turned to Dulcie where she still lay abed.
“Do you recall the letter you received from the countess a while back?”
“Of course, I remember. But I didn’t read it.”
“Forgive me, Dulcie, but I never threw it in the fire. And, I confess, I read it later.”
Her eyebrows lifted, but she didn’t seem too terribly angry. “I suppose you were curious, Griff. Am I correct? I suppose I should have been, too.”
“I was familiar with Agina’s writing, Dulcie, and I knew it wasn’t written in her hand.”
“Oh? For goodness sakes! Then who sent it?”
“I have it right here. I should have shown it to you before now, but we were otherwise engaged, umm?”
He grinned.
“Let me see it.”
“I’ll read it to you. I think you will be glad we didn’t burn it right off. We can do it afterward if you wish.”
Griff sat down on the edge of the bed, next to his wife.
“It’s from Emma Trent, Dulcie.”
Dulcie looked up at him, her expression attentive, puzzled, and a bit surprised.
He cleared his throat and began:
Madam—
I will not advise you of my whereabouts. Nor will I write the current whereabouts of the Countess of Eberley. Let me simply state that we two are no longer together.
I loved your stepmother for almost a decade and acted as her lady’s maid for that time as well. Did you know that she loved me, too? That we were lovers? No, I suppose that never entered your mind. You were a very naïve lady in so many ways.
Dulcie pinched Griff’s brawny forearm. “No longer lovers? What does she…?”
“Never mind. I’ll explain later,” Griff said, and continued.
Your stepmother raised herself up from the slums, as I did. We both worked in a Cheapside brothel, side by side, hating every moment of it, until we managed to leave the place. Agina’s beauty bought us both salvation, along with a title and wealth when she met and married your father, the earl. She never cared for him, you see; he was simply a means to an end—and marrying him created a better life for both of us. Of course, we plied him with attention and liquor. He was so befuddled he never realized he was married until hours afterward.
Griff had wondered when he had read between the lines of Emma’s letter, if his own father had met his scandalous death, not by his own hand, but at the hands of Vagina Boggs. Griff believed that his father had shot himself outside a Cheapside brothel. Could it have been the same one? And was his father’s sickness the only reason? Or had his father, too, been in the clutches of the extraordinarily beautiful, uncaring, vicious Agina Trayhern. Could she have placed the pistol into his hand and coaxed him to use it? Or had she simply placed the pistol against his temple and pulled the trigger herself?
Griff realized too late that he would never know.
He paused, took a deep breath, and kept reading.
You didn’t recall, Lady Dulcina, did you, that both Agina and I are well versed in concocting herbal potions. Of course, you did not, though we did cure you once earlier when you fell ill.
It was Agina’s, or should I say, Vagina Bogg’s (for that is her real name) use of the purple foxglove that spelled disaster for your unwary father’s weak heart. Any learned physician would have warned him to be careful of the medicine or it could kill instead of help. No one ever suspected that a large dose was given the earl in error.
As to you and your lover, Griffith Spencer… ah yes, that was my doing, because I was attending to Vagina’s schemes. We had a deadline, you see. November twenty-first, the day before your twenty-first birth date or all would be lost.
At first, you were given tiny doses of a love potion, Lady Dulcina, to bring you into heat. So much so that you could not help but throw yourself at Spencer with a rabid lust for him…or for any male. Spencer was simply made available. Toward the end, I dosed him as well on that night. I heard you screaming in pleasure from down the hall. Wild, wanton, bloodcurdling sounds of satisfaction! Was it good for you when you came? Did you want more? I would expect so. I always did, because I used a much lower dose on Vagina and I when we made love.
But then both of you fooled us. Griff Spencer had the temerity to rejoin the army and leave England. And you… you, Lady Dulcina, would not give him up to marry another as Vagina wished. Instead, we had to wait and hope. But he didn’t return soon enough (or so we thought), and we needed to do something drastic to continue our lavish lifestyle. It almost did the trick when I laced your sugar bowl with rat poison. Another day or so and…well, then your lover arrived, wounded but alive, and early enough to marry you. But, of course, you turned Spencer down. By then Vagina wanted it all—your entire inheritance. She would have won, too, if you died when we expected.
“They both hated me, Griff. I still wonder why.”
“It was nothing you did, Dulcie. They were born poor and turned bloody sour and greedy. No matter what you did, you never would have been able to make them care.”
Griff smoothed out the folded parchment and continued.
Why am I writing this to you now, Lady Dulcina? It is because Vagina courted a few new lovers and turned me out in the cold. The ungrateful bitch! After all I did for her.
I am no longer nearly as young nor as eager for lovemaking with her as I once was. The woman devours young flesh like a wild beast—male and female. I wonder how long she can keep it up and stay alive if she continually doses herself with potent aphrodisiacs.
I will be gone from England when you read this, Lady Dulcina, with enough jewels I filched from Countess Eberley to tide me over and live comfortably for the rest of my life. I pray that the countess will soon grow old and haggard, unable to attract new lovers, and never again be as well off as I am.
Yr. obedient servant,
Emma Trent
The End
About the Author:
Blaise Kilgallen was born in New Jersey, and lives in a semi-rural county in the "Garden State" with three four-footed companions: a retired thoroughbred mare, a half-Siamese cat and "a rather large" Rottweiler.
She earned her BS in Fine Art Education with the intention to teach but found she'd rather "do" than teach. Blaise was employed for a number of years by a series of New York advertising agencies. Later, she wrote catalog and PR copy for a private label, sales-marketing firm and drapery-bedspread manufacturer. She additionally earned a NJ Real Estate Broker's license and sold real estate. She now writes romantic fiction, paints and markets her watercolors.
Blaise is also published in Historical and Contemporary Romance under the name of Joan M. Fox.
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