Lady Trayhurn’s Transgression
by
Mary Alice Williamson
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.
LADY TRAYHURN’S TRANSGRESSION
COPYRIGHT 2012 by Mary Alice Williamson
Published by Sybarite Seductions, an imprint of Twenty or Less Press. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or Sybarite Seductions.
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Book Cover Design by ZenD
Sensual young blonde adult Caucasian woman, wrapped in a satin, silk sheet COPYRIGHT Sean Nel / 123rf.com
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Dedication
To my girl, Shellee Smythe, for going along with me on this crazy, mixed-up plan.
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Lady Trayhurn’s Transgression
May 1818, a townhouse in Grosvenor Square
Lady Lydia Trayhurn, wife to the Earl of Coventry, smiled as she read her brother’s letter. Written in his bold, meticulous script, she had no trouble picturing the scene he’d described. “What a scandal, Phyllis,” she said to her middle-aged lady’s maid. “It seems Lord Danver has been something of a naughty boy lately.”
“He’s coming out of mourning. Perhaps it couldn’t be helped.” Phyllis moved a small, marble-topped table to sit beside the copper bathtub. The table’s gilded legs winked in the lamplight. “A man such as Lord Danver has needs, I’m sure.”
“Of course men have needs, you silly goose.” Her brother—her younger brother by a year—had barely turned thirty. With his wife dead for over a year and sick for a long time before that, he probably had more frustrated oats to sow than wild ones. Lydia shook the letter. He’d always attempted to shock her with the scrapes in his life. “He admits to rutting with a parlor maid a few weeks ago. A servant! Just imagine the gossip if it’s found out.” She trusted Phyllis implicitly and didn’t think twice about tearing her brother’s reputation to ribbons in the maid’s company.
“The Viscount most likely brokered a deal or made lofty promises. The girl won’t talk.” Phyllis padded around the room plumping bed pillows, closing window drapes, and finally stoking the fire that would ward off the spring cold as well as keep Lydia’s bath pleasantly warm. By the time the woman placed the gilded screen in front of the hearth Lydia had folded the letter and tucked it into a book on the bedside table.
Lydia rolled her eyes. “But relations with a maid? I cannot believe he would do such a thing.” She crossed her arms over her chest. Her thin cotton wrap wasn’t enough to keep the chill away.
“Need and urges aren’t divided by class.” Phyllis placed a round of soap on the marble-topped table along with a book of poetry and a bathing sponge. “These things happen all the time.”
“You might be correct.”
Phyllis nodded. “It’s quite common for the titled to indulge in indiscretions with their staff.” The maid shrugged. “Those in domestic employ have little choice. Ask your husband if you don’t believe me.”
Lydia pursed her lips. No matter that Phyllis had been with her since she’d wed, hinting at the Earl’s less than austere behavior was beyond the pale. “You overstep, Phyllis.”
“I apologize.” The maid crossed to an armoire. “I’ll set out your Oriental silk dressing gown for you.”
“Thank you.” She perched on the edge of the bathtub and stuck a hand into the water. Her marriage to Lord Trayhurn had been essentially in name only. He’d never shown more than a passing interest in her as a woman or a bed partner, especially since she’d been unable to carry a child to term. Had he begat by-blows with any of his various mistresses or while carousing with the help? She wouldn’t doubt it, nor did she want to know. It had been years since he’d warmed her bed, and she was quite content with that. Lydia shook her head in the hope of clearing her thoughts. “A bit more hot water will do the trick I think.”
More than the domestic staff had little choice. At least if the staff wished to carouse with each other, they did with no care to their public image or reputation. The aristocracy had to be content with cold bedrooms and colder futures unless they wanted a fall from grace. She’d made the best of her life and sought happiness doing good works, though the physical ache for a man’s attention never went away.
“Very good.” Phyllis left the room only to return a few minutes later with the footman who’d brought up the tub. Now he carried a black, metal bucket of steaming water.
Lydia let her gaze travel over the footman. He bent over slightly to add the water to the bath and her breath caught. His arse was so tight and firm she wanted to grasp it and squeeze for the mere joy of feeling young, male flesh. Though he was probably ten years her junior, she couldn’t help her admiration. “Thank you, Paul.”
His broad shoulders and muscled chest filled out his blue-and-white livery to perfection. What would those strong arms feel like holding her close or pinning her wrists above her head while he plundered her breasts with his mouth? Excitement shot down her spine. I might be trapped in a loveless marriage, but I’m certainly not dead. In that one second she understood why her brother had done what he had. Lust circled around her like a voracious beast.
“Do you require more water?” The groom straightened with slow movements as if he knew of her regard. He faced her, the empty bucket resting on one solid thigh.
“No.” Despite her inappropriate thoughts, she couldn’t help glancing at the front of his breeches. A faint bulge pressed against the garment. Was that his resting member, or did he desire her? Tingles danced through her core. What did he look like fully engorged? Would he be thick in girth or long in length? Her heartbeat tripped into a fast rhythm. Should she risk all to find out?
She caught a wicked gleam in his eyes as he noticed her interest. “Enjoy your bath, Lady Trayhurn.” He flicked his gaze down her body, lingering briefly at her thighs and sliding over her breasts before returning to her face. His lips curved in a cheeky grin, but he turned and strode from the room before she could think of anything to say.
Heat rushed over her skin at his lazy insolence, yet she couldn’t deny the exchange had been blatantly suggestive. Had he guessed her thoughts? She squeezed her thighs together to stem the throb in her pussy. Oh to experience his youthful exuberance while he thrust into her or used her body as his play thing. She’d wager he’d be an attentive and demanding lover.
Phyllis softly cleared her throat. “Will there be anything else, Lady Trayhurn?”
Nothing that you can provide. Aloud, she said, “Not that I can think of.” She moistened her lips. “I plan to retire directly after my bath.”
“Very well. I’ve left your wrapper and a clean shift on the bed. There’s a towel on the floor near the tub. If you require my assistance later, please ring the bell.” The maid glided to the door on silent feet. “Have a restful sleep.”
“Thank you.” Lydia sighed with relief when Phyllis exited and closed the door. She untied the sash and let the robe drop from her shoulders. As she climbed into the rose-scented water, another sigh escaped. Warmth closed over her body and eased the aches from her muscles. Sinking in to her chin with her knees bent and out of the water, she leaned back, closed her eyes and fixed an image of the groom in her mind.
She opened her thighs as her fantasy of him naked and masterful developed. Water lapped
over her sensitive folds, warm and soothing. While she imagined Paul’s fingers on her flesh, she slipped a hand over her stomach and then lower through her curls until she found the button that would send her flying with a little bit of work. Blissful tension rose in her body the faster she rubbed her finger against the nub. She pretended it was Paul’s fingers caressing her cunt. Pressure built and coiled, ready to break.
“If you require help with that task, Lady Trayhurn, I am available.”
Lydia’s eyes flew open at the baritone voice. She yanked her hand away and snapped her thighs together even as tremors of heightened anticipation raced through her lower belly. “Paul? What are you doing in my private rooms?” It was a stupid question. There was only one reason for his presence, and they both knew it. She covered her bare breasts with crossed arms, hiding her erect nipples. “This is most improper.” It was a statement instead of the chastisement she’d intended, but as the words left her mouth, she acknowledged to herself she did indeed want his hands on her.
A grin wreathed his smooth, youthful face. “It is, but when has anything proper been pleasurable?” He’d shed his livery and now wore a loose-fitting linen shirt and brown wool trousers, which hugged his lean legs, further igniting her desire. “You have a look of a woman who requires much pleasuring.”
Flutters chased through Lydia’s core. “Does anyone know you’re here?”
“No. I’m very discreet, my lady.” He unlaced the ties holding the top of his shirt closed. It sagged open to reveal tanned skin sprinkled with coarse, black hair. “Was I wrong in thinking you might have additional need of me this night?”
Dear God, how she was tempted. Goose flesh prickled her skin. Her nipples tightened. When she moistened her bottom lip, Paul’s hazel eyes darkened. “Perhaps I do.” Her suite of rooms was far removed from any of the servants’ chambers and her husband was not in residence. What could it hurt? One tiny transgression wouldn’t harm her if he was discreet.
“I won’t keep you waiting.” He toed off his scuffed, worn boots. Once he’d removed the shirt and tossed it away, he held her gaze while he shoved out of his trousers.
“How much do you want this, Lady Trayhurn?” He pumped a hand along his cock. Thick and of a good length, his member grew from his ministrations. “Have you dreamed of having my prick in your cunt, in your mouth, between your tits?”
“Oh my.” Saliva filled her mouth. What would he feel like sliding down her throat? If she sucked him off, would it drive him wild?
Desire glittered in his eyes. “I’ve seen you watching me while I work.” He fondled his length again before rubbing a thumb over its tip. “Does your husband make your juices flow as much as thoughts of me do?” He straddled the narrow sides of the bathtub, and his engorged cock bobbed in front of her face. “Do you have him in mind when you pleasure yourself?”
She couldn’t breathe much less think with him so close. The contoured planes of his chest were better than she’d imagined. As she trailed her gaze over his defined abdomen, sharp need rocked her pussy. “I haven’t used his image for my own purposes for a very long time.”
Unable to help herself, she cupped his hairy balls. When he stifled a groan, she smiled and caressed his sac then slid a finger behind them to massage the spot she hoped would set fire to his loins.
This time, his moan echoed in the air and he rocked forward. His cock head tapped her lips. “Open for me, my lady. Let me fulfill your darkest desires and give you what your husband does not.”
“Gladly.” No matter that everything about this night was improper, it had been ages since she’d felt needed as a woman. Who was she to argue if a virile man desired her? Lydia slid a palm along one of his powerful thighs, edged closer to him then took him into her mouth.
She swirled her tongue around his cock. The slight salty taste sent pulses of desire through her body. Her breasts ached, and she pinched a nipple in an effort to alleviate the need. Sensation tingled through both breasts and lanced her pussy. Lydia sighed her bliss around his cock. His thick girth teased her mouth and tantalized her tongue as he pushed deeper.
She marveled over the difference in the groom’s prick and her husband’s. Youth kept Paul rigid and supple. He’d last a while. Again, the image of him pounding into her cunt dropped into her mind’s eye as he thrust into her mouth.
Each time he pulled back, she applied suction to the tip and every time he shoved deep and hit the back of her throat, she swallowed. He moaned. While he grasped her head and moved her over his length the way he wanted, she slipped a hand to his balls. She gave them a squeeze and fondled them. Did she give him the same pleasure he did her? With her free hand under the water, she worked her nubbin. Waves of pleasure rolled through her body. As the first, softly cresting orgasm hit her, she sucked Paul’s cock, holding him stationary by pressing her tongue against his hard flesh.
“Damn, you are skilled,” he gasped before pulling from her mouth. His smoldering gaze bore into hers. “I want you, but not in the tub. I don’t like to be confined during sex.” He climbed off the sides and stood waiting nearby with a hand on his wet, glistening length.
Lydia smiled. Oh he would be so tempting to have around the property. Chills danced down her spine. One transgression might not be enough. Could they hide away for a quick tryst every now and again? She levered up from the tub. Water dripped from her body, and she let Paul look his fill of her nakedness. No longer did she agonize over the sneaky pounds she’d acquired during the years of her marriage, not when the footman seemed ready to devour her whole.
“Where?” She barely forced the question out past the need gripping her.
He pointed to the thick rug in front of the fireplace. “There. I want to see the gleam of the flames on your skin.”
“Yes.” Her pussy juices tickled her curls as she exited the bath. Excitement fairly hummed over her body. She’d never been so keen about bedroom antics before.
Paul stretched out on the rug. His rigid cock pointed to the ceiling. “Ride me, Lady Trayhurn. I suspect you’ve not been treated to such an experience often.”
“Not hardly.” She padded over the chilly floor and then dropped to her knees beside him. He was beautiful in all his youthful glory, and she would have taken a moment to simply admire him but for the raging desire that consumed her. With a trilling laugh, Lydia wrapped a hand around his member. It throbbed against her palm. “This is better than any imaginings.”
“I’m waiting.” He patted his flat stomach. “Mount me and I’ll bring you to bliss.”
Oh to have his arrogance and young braggart attitude. She nodded and released her fingers. “Hush.” She didn’t want to remember he was a person with feelings. The only thing she wanted was to feel his body against hers while they shared a mutual need.
Lydia straddled him, low enough that his cock brushed her stomach. She leaned forward and let her breasts caress his chest. Her nipples tightened, and she repeated the action before crushing them against him. The coarse hair prickled her sensitive flesh and sent a new round of flutters into her pussy. She moaned from the sheer novelty. As urgency drove instinct, she lifted onto her knees, took his fat cock in hand, and then guided his tip to her wet entrance.
Slowly, to savor the moment, she impaled herself, crying out at the exquisite sensations that rushed up to meet her. She wanted to sob at the sheer decadence of it. It had been so long since she’d felt a man in her body.
Paul’s hands on her waist reminded her they weren’t done. When she lifted off him and his tip flirted with her opening, she looked into his face. He watched her with a smug expression and one raised eyebrow.
Was that a challenge? Her heartbeat slammed into double time.
“Go ahead, my lady. Fuck me.”
The second he pinched one of her nipples and rolled it between his thumb and forefinger, she was lost. Pain-tipped pleasure streaked between her breasts. Her cunt throbbed and she slammed her lower body onto his shaft once more.
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p; A gasp wrenched from her throat. His big cock filled her, stretched her as she’d never before experienced—and she craved more.
On each down stroke, Paul thrust upward. His power and speed matched her hunger. Her juices coated his shaft and allowed for easy gliding. Soon, Lydia gave herself over to the quick rhythm he set. She bounced on his cock, taking everything she knew she deserved.
The wet slap of skin joined the crackling of the fire. Her breasts jiggled and swayed from her exertions. At one point, she closed her eyes, leaned back slightly and let him do the work. Every lancing sent tingles through her entire body and brought her closer to the edge.
Locks of hair escaped their pins to tumble around her shoulders. Lydia forced her eyes open and stared at her lover. A thin sheen of sweat slicked his chest. His eyes were half-closed. He was exactly what she needed, yet she wanted still more, wanted it harder.
She broke the rhythm and ground her hips against his, forcing him deeper. A long groan issued from him. He slid his hands to her hips. His fingers dug into her flesh.
The coiling pressure inside tightened. Lydia clutched his shoulders and bore down. The base of his cock rubbed against her button. The increased friction sent her higher toward oblivion, but she refused to give in. She craved him too much.
Lydia sat upright, desire guiding her. She gyrated her hips, and her cunt pulsed for more. His thrusts grew frantic as did her answering pushes.
It was too much and not enough. Bliss beckoned. She teetered on the edge with no relief.
Paul’s grunts and moans sank into her consciousness. Seconds later, his fingers were on her nubbin. He rubbed it in time to the movements of his hips, and when he pinched the bundle of nerves, Lydia lost her grip on reality.
She fell over the edge as white hot pleasure raced over her skin, filling every pore. Her body stiffened as the orgasm claimed her, almost rendering her numb with its intensity. Then just as fast, she returned to awareness only to be caught in another wave. Contractions engulfed her pussy, and in turn squeezed Paul’s cock.
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