The Duke sipped the brandy. “I'm sorry to have made such an entry in the middle of your entertainment,” he murmured. “I had a fair idea which was the rear of your inn, and when I heard music in the distance I knew I was at the right place. I came in the back way. The rear door was open and I came through your servants' entrance without seeing anyone except the people in the kitchen, who were too busy to notice me. I should not have entered your party without a proper invitation, but it was essential that I met you personally with the monies.”
“You did the right thing, my Lord, I'm only grateful that you were not injured more severely,” murmured Eardley. “You can put up here for as long as need be. It could be dangerous for you to go back to the manor. I'll close the inn in about an hour and then gather my servants and comb the area for the ruffians while Jean takes care of you.”
Jean was growing impatient. “Uncle what are you going to do about treating the Duke?” she asked. “That wound needs attention. I believe I should get some hot water and bathe it, at least.”
“That is exactly what I want you to do,” he uncle said. He reached for the bell cord beside the bed and pulled it. It brought Noel, who doubled as groom and general servant. Noel was a youngish man, discharged from the cavalry on suffering a leg injury when thrown from a horse.
“Ah, Noel, here's a gentleman guest who was waylaid by some of Grey's ruffians. I want you to gather as many men and we'll comb the area for those rascals.” Eardley said.
“Straight away, sir,” responded Noel without batting an eye, and he withdrew from the door.
As her uncle and his servants left on a man hunt. Jean treated the Duke's wound and found that though it had bled it seemed to be a superficial wound. The Duke was shivering slightly, and from her rudimentary knowledge of nursing she remembered that he ought to be kept warm to prevent shock.
She hastened to the large cupboard in the corner and produced a blanket, which she unfolded and draped around the Duke's shoulders, taking care that it did not make contact with the injury.
“To keep you warm, my Lord. The shock is sure to make you feel chilled,” she said quietly.
The Duke looked up at her and smiled. His face was slightly drawn but there was sensitivity. “It would be more comforting if you come closer to me and let me huddle you against my body to keep myself warm.” He told the girl.
Jean was a spirited girl who had always believed that life could offer more than the ladylike existence in a comfortable home which her doting uncle expected her to follow. Close to Jean's heart was the welfare of the young Duke who had emerged from the night and she was drawn to his manifestly gentle personality.
“You are not squeamish by my request, are you Jean?” the Duke asked.
“Not in the slightest,” she declared.
They huddled in each other’s arms to keep the Duke warm. They chatted about various matters and then came to the stage where Jean asked the Duke if he was married and how life in the manor was.
“Yes, Jean, I'm Married to the Duchess of Winslow, and we have a young child, and life is very exciting at the manor. Would you like to be the governess of my child or the chambermaid to the Duchess?...It would be an interesting life for you.” the Duke informed.
Jean blushed under the Duke's banter. She stole a look at the Duke and saw that he was looking at her in an attractive, rather bashful way. From his sitting position he inclined his body forward, as in a bow. He put his hand on her knee, and somehow her ankle length skirt twitched upward just in time so he was fondling her warm firm flesh instead of fabric.
Shivers ran down his spine. This beautiful sexy girl really appealed to him in a big way! He pulled his shoulder back and sucked his belly in.
“Girls the likes of you are quite interesting,” he said playfully. He shot a glance around; was he getting in trouble? There seemed to be nobody there. Jean had surveyed the room too, and felt safe. She put her slim pale hand on his thigh, not his knee, his thigh! And then squeezed it hotly, his shaft stood up and saluted. He watched her watching the bulge in his breeches, and licked his lips. She had a little smile on her face; it was obvious she knew what it was all about, and the Duke didn't have to shuffle around to hide his hard-on.
Jean threw her head back slightly, her hair bouncing “Please, my Lord, will it hurt me?” she asked.
“Not at all,” The Duke managed to force out the words through a dry throat. The heat from her hand radiated throughout his body, and his huge prick stirred and pushed painfully against his breeches. This was something like it! Even one night with a little angel like this should more than compensate for his injury.
Then Duke turned to Jean and discovered her fingers had inched upward, so they rubbed against the concealed yet obvious prick-head.
“You'd better be careful,” he said thickly. “You don't want to tease a man like that. Not unless you mean it.”
“But maybe I mean it.” Her smile was the most alluring thing he'd seen for a very long time. Her pointed red tongue shot out like a dart and licked her soft lips.
“So do I,” he whispered huskily.
“What do you like?” she said softly. “Do you like to suck, fuck? Do you want me to take you around the world? You don't have to do anything. Let me do it all. Let me give you a time you'll never forget.”
The Duke was stunned. His mind accepted her words and computed them, but his hungry prick wouldn't listen to reason. It swelled even more until he could barely manage to sit on the bed. But just the same, he had enough sense left to know the truth; He had to prove it, though.
“Will it be safe?” he managed to say.
She shrugged. “Depends on what you want. Not too much, for what you are craving for. And a handsome man like you...” She put her hand boldly right on top of his swollen prick, and he almost leaped through the ceiling.
“Goddamn it! How old are you, Jean?”
“Old enough to know what I want. What difference does it make?” She squeezed again, and his spine turned into a puddle of hot melted jelly. Well, I'm twenty though I look like sixteen or eighteen,” She whispered.
He groaned. He wasn't certain whether she was telling the truth. His hard-on died painfully, leaving a terrible ache in his groin. No way was he going to make it with an over sexed
child! He was surely tempted. He might never have a chance like this again. The thought of her fresh pussy was like a stab wound to his gut. He could see it, feel it, and almost taste it.
The Duke knew with dismal certainty that he'd worry too much to enjoy it with a twenty-year-old. What might she have? His rational mind, what was left of it, told him he'd never have the guts to go through with it. Think how long he'd have a guilty conscience, if by chance he had taken an under-aged girl. That alone was enough to cool him.
With a heartfelt groan, he lifted her hand from the place where his huge erection used to be. “Not today Jean, I'm not sure whether you are telling me the truth, I don't want to have a feeling that I have molested an innocent young child.”
“But, My Lord, I'm telling you the truth,” Jean looked disappointed, and the Duke thought she might argue the issue, and he turned his back on her. He heard her slip down from the bed and leave the room.
“Sorry to disappoint you Jean, but I'll never touch you ‘til I make sure that you are really and truly old enough to enjoy sex.” The Duke said and sighed heavily hating himself.
Eardley and his men had combed the area for the ruffians ‘til day break and found no trace of them. Sleepy and tired they returned to the inn. By that time the Duke was ready to make his long ride back home.
“Thanks for your hospitality, Eardley. Now I must leave. But before I leave I have one more request to make,” the Duke said.
“What is it, my Lord, I'm at your service any time.” Eardley said ready to be of service to the young Duke.
“The Duchess and I need a maid to be the governess for our little child and I feel Jean is the right candidate for it, but she is way to
o young for it.” The Duke said.
“Young! ….. What do you mean by that, my Lord, she is almost twenty-one, though she looks like a sixteen year old lass.” Eardley said confirming Jean's rightful age. “No, my Lord, there is nothing for you to be concerned about.”
“Well in that case, I don't mind taking her along with me, of course with your blessings.” The Duke said making a note of what Eardley said about Jean's age.
“My Lord, You have my approval but I wonder what Jean has to say.” he said and summoned his niece and put forward the Duke's proposal. “What have you got to say Jean?”
“I'll be delighted to serve the Duchess and the Duke,” she said without any hesitation. Collecting what little clothing she could pack in her travel bag they set off on their long journey. By night fall the new maid, Jean, and the young Duke had covered a good part of the journey and had yet another half a day's ride to make it to the manor.
As the evening grew dark and chilly, it was difficult for them to ride any further. By moonlight they made their way through the dirt tracks, heading without thought for a wayside inn. They booked into a cozy little inn run by an elderly woman. There were hardly any guests. They needed to be alone.
The Duke had just unlocked his door when a cold little hand slipped into his. His treacherous prick lurched even as he recognized his maid, Jean, the dear little maid. She'd come to comfort her Lord. If only the Duchess had been as pure and sweet as Jean!
“Step inside, girl, you'll get a chill.” He took her hand and guided her inside. “What's the matter couldn't sleep?”
“No. I was wandering around, my Lord, and I saw you and..... and you looked kind of lonely!” She was shivering in the night air. She wore thin pajamas and a robe, and her feet were bare.
“Ooooh, let me snuggle up, my Lord! You're so nice and warm!”
The Duke sat on the bed and lifted her into his lap. He could feel her shake with cold and wrapped his arms around her slim body. She smelled nice, like good soap and water, and for the first time he recollected Jean's heavy, musky perfume. It should have given him a clue.... lots of things should have clued him in sooner.
His hand slid under Jean's robe and tightened on her thin waist.
“What were you so thoughtful about , my Lord?” she tilted her head back and looked at him. “Don't tell me, you still think of me as a child!”
“What are you talking about, Jean? Suddenly you have outgrown everything,” the Duke said and planted a soft little kiss on her lips and she didn't seem to mind.
Jean brought him back to the present abruptly “Yes, at least now you have realized that I've grown.” She said and wiggled her little bottom until his aching hard-on was pinned between her ass cheeks. It felt so good, he groaned in pleasure. The warmth of her little buttocks penetrated through the layer of clothing, and seemed to clasp his swelling organ in a delicious grip.
“Ooooghhh,” he moaned in spite of himself. “Jean, you don't know what you're doing!”
“Oh, my Lord, I love you and I want you!” she said “But you shut me out before.”
If she was having the same memories, he thought foggily, there must be something to it. He leaned against the upholstered back of the bed, simply unable to draw away from the exciting pressure on his sore penis. He felt her loosen his grip on her, and wanted to protest but before he could open his mouth, she'd reversed her position. She sat on his lap leaning into him, her pouting tits pushing against the thin silk and brushing his chest. Somehow, her thighs managed to clamp around the solid bulk of his enormous swollen prick. Her hands were on his head, holding him behind the ears.
“My Lord, can't you give me what I want? I need you so very badly!” Her plaintive cry gave him a new guilt to think about.
“Of course, Jean, I can give you anything you want!”
Jean's heart leaped with happiness. At last she had what she wanted! She had the Duke's attention, all of it. She had him alone, in a situation where they weren't likely to be interrupted. And best of all, she had the physical nearness she'd longed for.
She'd felt so funny lately! She wanted to hug and kiss, but there was nobody to hug. This funny feeling in her belly deviled her all the time. She couldn't rest at night, and found her hands slipping in between her thighs to rub the spot that bugged her so.
Sometimes she was wet down there, and she didn't know what it meant..... though some deep-seated wisdom seemed to tell her it was important.
“I don't know how to begin.” She bit her lip, trying to see his face in the moonlight, which filtered in the back window. “My Lord, I get such funny feelings lately. Especially.....well, right here! Right down here!” she took the Duke's hand and guided it, to slip between her flat belly and pajama pants. The elastic stretched as his fingers followed her lead, rubbing on the funny flap of flesh, which particularly bothered her.
“Good Lord, ooooh! That feels so great!” Her girlish clit was upraised and firm, fatly pushing on his fingertips. He stroked it lightly, smiling to himself as he felt her quiver with pleasure. She needed to learn about her body, and men, about sex and life, the life of joyous sexuality ahead of her. The only thing was, it took two to tango.
“Aarraggaah!: He ground his teeth in impotent ecstasy.
“My Lord! What's wrong? Why are you making that funny noise?” she peered at him in the semi-darkness, alarmed even though her hips had gone into an odd little back and forth dance on his lap. “My Lord, don't stop rubbing me, please!”
The Duke's fingers picked up their smooth stroking again, and slid farther under her bottom. Strange, how her little muffin could be designed just like a woman's and yet feels so different! Part of it was the lack of a bush, as of course she had shaved.
“Here,” he grunted. “Get on your knees, Jean, yes, that's right.” He pulled at the elastic waistband of her pajama pants. “Don't get in a stew, honey, I'm just going to do something else that'll make you feel even better.”
He pulled the pants off clumsily, and then positioned her again on her knees, facing him where he knelt on the floor. “Are you warm enough?” he asked anxiously, but if she answered, the words didn't register. He put his face close to her muffin and stared. God, how pink and smooth and perfect!
His tongue shot out, slapping against her rosy clit lips wetly. He felt her jump and then tremble, leaning into him. Steadying her with his hands on her hips, he poked at her shiny clit with his tongue tip. Her clitoris was delightful, especially as it came erect and poked out toward his tongue. He slid the hot wetness of his tongue along it, tasting her juices that seeped from her ragged inner lips, and thinking they were sweet as honey.
The Duke laughed and suggested she lie down on her back. His hands pulled her knees apart. Ah, at last she was right in a beam of moonlight and he could see. Pale pink, definitely. He ran his hot pebbly tongue into her snatch, feeling the thin inner flesh quiver. He was turning her on all right because as the hot cream bubbled against his lips. And the way her little butt switched back and forth proved to him she was really excited; that made him very happy.
She began to shove her pelvis at him in little uncoordinated movements, gasping “Oh! Oh! Oh!” with each forward thrust. The Duke felt his belt biting into his waist, and his still painful erection disturbing his concentration on her pleasure. Somehow, without stopping his hot tongue lapping, he unbuckled his belt, undid his breeches and let them drop to his knees.
He pressed his tongue upward the small indentation, the entrance to her womb and felt it give with elastic readiness. Not too much of that, he cautioned himself, and went back to her clit. His lips formed a tight circle around the bud of flesh and he sucked hard, at the same time flicking it with his tongue.
The Duke's hands moved over her body, stroking the belly that pooched out a little with her efforts, enclosing her rounded boobs and nipping the nipples, stroking her sides, tickling under her arms, he was lost in a mindless ecstasy, only vaguely conscious of his own heavily throbbing prick and tight
testicles.
As if some signal had passed between them, the Duke raised his head, his face was smeared with her juices and he smiled in a twisted way. Moaning fiercely, he threw himself on top of Jean's voluptuous body.
“Aarrrah,” she moaned, “Do it my Lord, do it now, fuck me! Fuck me hard!”
The Duke was tremendously happy. He worked his rigid shaft into her, loving the slick creamy slide of his penis up her vagina. He could feel her vaginal muscles clamp around his aching shaft, giving delicious hot pressure. He slipped his hands under her ass and pulled her pelvis up, tilting it toward him. Her legs splayed high and wide, one knee cocked so an ankle rested on his shoulder. With every move of their bodies, they were showing the lust they had for each other.
The Duke flicked his hips backward and forward rapidly, and then slowed. His young prick was buried deep in Jean's wet slick cunt.
The Duke's Dilemma: Regency Romance Menage Short Stories Page 4
