Lord Stanhope's Improper Proposal

by Cerise DeLand

  “But your first wife?”

  His eyes darkened, his lashes dusting his rigid cheekbones. His voice was a rasp. “She was never here.”

  Felice was filled with such joy at knowing her uniqueness to him that she was momentarily speechless.

  He stared at her. “I want you to know that in the morning, if you wish to go, I will not forbid you.”

  His largesse tore at her. Was he that magnanimous to take a woman to bed and let her decide if she would leave…or return to him? Wonderful for a woman’s independence, but what if that woman was his wife? And she wanted to remain?

  Felice shook off the dismay of tomorrow’s choice. Instead, she put her hands to his chest, the fine wool of his waistcoat smooth and scintillating to her senses. “I will tell you my decision then.”

  His eyes narrowed on her mouth, and he stepped against her, his hand at her nape supporting her as he leaned over and kissed her with ravishing intent. At that moment, she gave up all caution, worry and dismay. She was here where she had longed to be. And he?

  He was taking her mouth, treasuring it, exploring it, absorbing it into his entire being. She let him and met him with her own desires. Her arms clutched him closer and her heart beat faster. Her lips, her breasts, her belly, her loins turned to flame.

  He broke away with a gasp.

  “Allow me,” he told her as he spun her around and with nimble flicks unbuttoned her bodice. She could tell his fingers faltered. Shaking herself in anticipation, she stepped out of her slippers. No sooner did she discard her earbobs, then he had her spun about again, her red sarcenet gown slithering over her curves to the floor. With a few deft strokes, she had the two hooks of her chemise undone, the thing gaping open. With an indrawn breath, he slid his warm hands beneath the thin fabric as he pushed it from her shoulders and over her breasts. He discarded her petticoat next.

  She dared not move a hair on her head.

  Silently, he stood there for a very long moment as he surveyed the naked display she afforded him. Clad only in her thigh-high ivory stockings held up by garters, she knew she displayed every charm and every flaw she possessed.

  “My darling wife,” he said on a broken voice, “you are quite the loveliest creature I have ever seen.”

  “Please, Adam, never tease me.”

  “Tease you?” he got out. “I promise never to do that.” His eyes gleamed. “At least not with words.”

  She grinned at him. “And how will you do it otherwise?”

  “You are the tease! Come to me!” He caught her up in his arms again and strode with her to a huge winged chair where he laid her across his lap. “I shall show you.”

  “I fear,” she ventured when she sat there before him quite naked and he fully clothed,

  “you have me at a disadvantage.” She flicked his cravat then put her fingers to the buttons of his waistcoat. “I cannot sit here nearly naked while you are still trussed up like a Christmas goose.”

  He settled his arms on the rests of the chair and sat back. “Have at me, then.”

  Emboldened, she got to her feet, but he must have thought she was about to leave, for he seized her wrist. She merely intended to straddle his legs. An impulsive decision, she knew, that might offend his sensibilities and induce him to throw her out. Or bind her closer.

  Even as she gathered her courage and sat down on his thighs facing him, she inhaled and knew the fragrance of her desire for him rose to his nostrils. They flared wide. His eyes fell closed.

  “You are a temptress.”

  “I’m glad you think so,” she crooned as she went to work on his cravat, vest and shirt to tug them off and drop them to the floor. His chest was marvelously furred with black down. She ran her fingers through the softness.

  He caught her hands and warned her with a look.

  “You have touched me twice now,” she explained with a raw courage she summoned from somewhere deep inside, “and I have not had the pleasure of reciprocating.”

  “You are bold.”

  “You wish me prudish?” she dared him.

  “Never. Your eagerness is refreshing and requires me to summon the greatest discipline. I will teach you the fullest pleasures, if you will allow me my way.”

  “Totally.”

  He brought her palm to his mouth and buried his lips there. “Such trust, I will honor.”

  At his declaration, she flexed her derriere. Her juices inside her gushed, and she wondered if she would embarrass herself flowing with too much need of him.

  “Did your first husband give you any lessons in love?” he asked her as he flicked his tongue to the center of her palm.

  “Wallace was kind,” she admitted, not quite knowing what to add that would be polite and yet informative. Her knowledge of sexual congress was limited to the fast couplings she’d had with her husband and the more appealing writings of her fellow female writers in the Risque Society at home in Kent.

  “Kind?” Adam asked on a thread of sound. “Spread your fingers, darling. There. Elegant,”

  he crooned, as he inserted the tip of his tongue in the hollow between each finger.

  She undulated in his lap and pressed her lips together in a moan.

  He smiled but kept at his task, picking up her other hand and licking each space between her fingers there. “I shall be kind, too.”

  She purred, a pure guttural sound of delight.

  His brilliant eyes sparkled at her as she put one of her hands to his shoulder and the other to the muscle over one of his dark nipples.

  “I will be slow, too. Was Wallace slow?”

  “No. Quick, clumsy and very boring.”

  “Is that so?” Adam asked with measured intensity and took to lazily examining her cleavage and both breasts. “You seem very excited.”

  “I am,” she confessed on a wee sound. “You make me so.”

  His smile was sensual, dark and destructive to every maidenly instinct she’d yet retained.

  “I want to make you as wild as I am.”

  She shifted on his thighs. “I want to be.”

  “Do you?” he asked lightly as if he knew the answer. His hand cupped one breast. She felt her body swell with want.

  “You have beautiful heavy breasts.”

  She swallowed.

  “I like the way they tip up toward me.”

  She gulped.

  He grinned, and a dimple appeared in the corner of his mouth. “Did Wallace fondle them?”

  “No.”

  “He should have.”

  She nodded. “I agree.”

  He arched mischievous brows. “They deserve devotion.” One of his thumbs brushed across a nipple. It beaded. Her pussy pulsed. “They should be treasured.” He pinched her. “So that they harden, like this.” He cupped her other breast and gave it the same homage. “They should be aroused so that they swell and bud. Like this.” He tweaked one and brushed the other then bent and took one in his mouth.

  Felice bowed up into his embrace as he sucked on her and made her moan with abandon.

  “Gossamer.”

  “You like them, then,” she got out. “Oh, I was so afraid.”

  “Of what?” he asked on a whisper as he took the nipple in his mouth and ran his tongue around the areola.

  “That they would be too big. Not the fashion to be too well endowed, you know.”

  “I don’t give a damn about the fashion,” he growled and caught her nipple between his teeth then played with it with his talented tormenting tongue. “I only want to make you moan for me. Will you, darling? Moan?”

  “I have already!” she blurted as he pushed her breasts together and bit one then the other.

  He pulled back so quickly, she cried out. But on his dark handsome face was a fierce expression. “Undo my flies.”

  Her hands shook, but she worked diligently at his buttons. Beneath the fabric, she saw the breadth of his penis. Large and proud, his cock peered out at her as she pushed aside his trousers and his small clo
thes. Tall, rigid and red, his shaft wept for her.

  She grinned down at it. His cock was a beautiful piece. She slid her fingers over the tip, and he grunted.

  “Did I hurt you?” She jumped back.

  “No. Only made me want you more. Do it again.”

  She did.

  He made an animal sound in the back of his throat.

  “Again?” she asked, eager as a child.

  He groaned. “All you like.”

  She cupped his heavy balls still encased in his breeches and ran her thumb over his weeping slit. “This is wonderful that you allow me this.”

  He cleared his throat and laughed. “I permit you to do anything you wish.”

  “Really?” She could not have asked for a greater favor.

  “Truly.” He arched both dark brows. “What would you like to do with me?”

  She continued to caress his cock but bent to lick one of his nipples. “This,” she said and felt a moan vibrate in his chest. “And this,” she told him as she sucked on the other nipple.

  “What a nymph you are!”

  A nymph for a satyr. “You won’t hate me?” she asked, panicked that he might reject her for her advances.

  He yanked her closer, her tender nipples boring into his rocklike chest. “Hate you?” he barked. “You come to me with this giving body and this open mind, and you think I will refuse you?”

  Trepidation niggled at her resolve. “Women are not supposed to be so forward.”

  “In England, yes. But in other lands?” he told her as he splayed the fingers of both hands up into the crown of her head and drew her near to speak on her lips. “In other lands, a wife is expected to be an equal partner in her husband’s bed. She can learn about pleasures and revel in them. So, too, can she ask for them.”

  “I want to do those things. I want to be a wife like that.”

  “Do you, my darling?” He gazed straight into her eyes.

  “I am not a woman who simpers and demurs.”

  “Then you are one of a kind.” He wound one of her curls around a finger. “And if you wish to give pleasure as well, then…”

  “To you? I do.”

  He studied her a moment, and if he measured her veracity, she welcomed it. For what she told him was true. With no other could she have embarked on such an intimate journey. No other did she know so well. So comfortably.

  “Well then, you shall have what you wish. No coddling. Only lessons in love.” He shifted beneath her, his heavy balls and long penis filling her hands. “Stand up, my sweet.”

  She slid off his lap and stood before him, her breasts aching for his mouth, her pussy dripping cream along her thighs. Her toes wiggled in her stockings, digging into the carpet in expectation.

  “To love another’s body, you must first learn to love your own, Felice. Touch your breasts for me.”

  She tilted her head, not sure she had heard him.

  His turbulent gaze seized hers. “Do it.”

  She lifted her breasts, thumbed her nipples and bit her lower lip as a shot of satisfaction rammed through her loins.

  “Circle your nipples. There, feel how they swell and point. Tell me in your own words, darling, what you think of that?”

  She caught a breath. “I like it. Love the feel of them puckering. Tingling. I need the sensation. Need more of it.”

  “Pinch yourself.”

  She did and bucked.

  “Very nice. Again, my sweet.”

  She did and moaned. Her eyes drifted shut.

  “Superb. Now stroke your ribs. Yes. And your hips. Strong hips.”

  “Not too wide?” she asked, eager for more approval, lost in her own caresses.

  “No. Hips are for a man to hold. Yours are lush, meant to have a man’s kiss here.” He bent and placed his lips at the hollow of her hip near her thatch of hair. He gripped her, his fingers sinking into her buttocks. “You smell divine, too.” He kissed her once again. “Now thread your fingers through your pretty pussy hair, my darling. Yes, like that. Splendid.”

  “Adam?” She pressed her thighs together, her cunny slick with her juices now and pulsing over and over. “Is this wrong to enjoy?”

  “Not at all, my dearest. You prepare yourself for my touch, my kiss, my cock inside your luscious body. Now, be a good wife and spread your legs apart. That’s good. You want me, sweet.

  Say it.”

  “I want you. I flow with need for you.” She was opening her lower lips, delving along the smooth skin, silky with creamy fluid and so sensitive to her own touch. She could not find any satisfaction suddenly, and she massaged the nubby spot he’d caressed in the garden. She could not stroke it quickly enough. “What is this?”

  “A bundle of nerves meant to heighten your pleasure. There, you see? You buck and thrash so artlessly. Do it again.”

  She complied and thrilled to her own touch. “This is torment.”

  “Because you are aroused now, prepared and eager to be filled by me.”

  Her eyes shot open, and she saw him, his cock in one hand caressing the tip which gave off drops of fluid. “Send two fingers deep inside yourself.”

  She gaped at him.

  He smiled with gentle reassurance. “Do it, darling. You will be pleased. Have you not been by what I have taught you thus far?”

  She sent two fingers deep into her core and found no words to define the sensations that raged through her.

  “What do you feel?”

  “Wet. Swollen. Wanton!”

  He chuckled. “Now stop.”

  She froze. Then she watched him stand and step out of his shoes, breeches and hose.

  Naked now as she, he wrapped one arm around her waist and sent one hand traveling over a breast, a nipple, her belly button to her slit to caress the nub of nerves. She had had the pleasure of his fingers inside her before. This time, she absorbed even wilder pleasure from his caresses.

  “I feel that demand building once more,” she said on a tremulous voice. “What is that?”

  “Your urge to our ecstasy,” he told her as he insinuated his hand deeper into her cunny.

  “You come so easily, darling.” He stroked one special place along her inner walls, and she tilted up her hips into his hand. “Your husband never pleasured you to completion, did he?”

  She shook her head. “No, never this wondrous feeling. Oh! Adam!”

  He went to his knees. “Open your thighs, my sweet. I want to lick you.”

  “No! I can’t!” Was he mad? Was she for doing it?

  “Good. Let me roll you open, darling.” And then he put his mouth to her private places and tasted her with a dancing tongue.

  She clutched his shoulders. “Adam, I cannot stand.”

  “Mmm, of course you can, sweet. Christ, you are drenched in cream.” He licked her again, rolled her open more widely, and the cool air of the room hit her slick flesh.

  “Adam?”

  “Yes, darling?” he got the words out between titillating kisses to her cunny.

  “I…I love this.”

  She could have sworn she could feel him smile against her skin.

  “I know you do, pet.” He sent two fingers inside her cunt and stroked her. “You would not be so wet or swollen, so soft or supple if you did not want me badly.”

  “I need more,” she demanded.

  “You need my cock. Inside here.” He massaged her inner walls. “Tell me that.”

  “I want you. Buried deep within me,” she said to the rhythm of his caresses. “Now!”

  He pushed her to the chair he had vacated, spread her out, her cunt open to him, her thighs out wide and lifted her knees to drape over the armrests.

  Beyond reason, she marveled at her wanton position as he said, “Watch me eat you,” and bent to put his handsome mouth to her pink glistening cunt. “Watch me lick your lovely clitoris,”

  he put his lips to her nub of nerves. She yelped, but he settled her with two hands to her inner thighs. “Watch me suck your prett
y lips.”

  One hand to the chair cushion, she writhed. “If you don’t fuck me soon, I shall die.”

  At her use of the four letter word no woman uttered, she gasped. He lifted his face to stare at her.

  She was done now. He’d hate her. Reject her. Leave her in this maddening state, howling with sexual deprivation.

  “My darling wife, you astonish me with your vocabulary.”

  “I know I am impetuous and—”

  “And delightful!” He chuckled and rose up on his knees. “See how your pretty pussy cries for me inside you.” He took one finger to scoop her cream from her cunny and raise it to show her, then sucked it from his finger. “I want you now, Felice.” His face went rigid in stark need as he took his cock in one hand and put it to the entrance to her core. “You are frank. And lusty.”

  He sank inside her with a slow drive. He stretched her channel wide, his shaft hot, satin iron. She threw her head back and let out a cry of fulfillment.

  When she looked down, he had his eyes squeezed shut, his teeth gritted. The ecstasy she saw on his face as he opened his eyes and began to move in her, astonished her. He seemed transported, focused only on some ferocious quest and driven to a rampaging release. He moved like liquid fire inside her tense and yearning channel.

  Her cunny swelled. She sought to hold him inside her.

  “Darling,” he objected, “you are so swollen, so tight, I cannot move. Let loose, my pet, or we will have no ending that…there. There!” He grunted. “My god! There. You are talented at this, do you know?”

  “No!” She swallowed loudly. “Don’t stop. You won’t, will you?” She could not help herself from watching how his long red cock disappeared inside her cunt and came out, shining with her juices then drove inside once more. “Never stop.”

  He laughed through his exertions.

  She chuckled, too, but caught herself short, as he pumped inside her.

  “Never,” he said, “made love to a woman who was laughing.”

  A wave of ferocious need rolled over her. “Laughter be damned, Adam Stanhope! I want to scream.”