by Lisa Torquay
She closed her eyes and sighed, unable to tamp down the fire he stoked in her. He pulled her closer as their bodies touched from chest to toe. He explored the opening of her shift, transforming her in molten lava, his manhood pressed temptingly against her belly.
Capitulation. The unique word possible of being uttered here. She capitulated before the feast of the senses he taunted her with unrestrained. Shame did not even duck its head! The sensations he extricated from her so overwhelming she had no space for shame. She let herself revel on his caress as an undermining laxity dominated her. Unthinkingly, her hands sneaked under his silken tunic to find his muscled chest warm on her palm.
“Aurelia!” He exclaimed. “Yes, touch me, touch all of me!” He nibbled the pulse on her neck. “I need your heavenly callused hands on me.” Next, he plundered her yearning lips and they got lost to reality.
She held him under the tunic and responded fully to his kiss while he pulled her tighter to him. Every time Conrad touched her, he became dumbfounded with her responsiveness, her fire, the way he could imagine sharing his body only with her.
He came up for air, using the break to take out his pyjamas tunic. She looked at him mesmerized. The flames on the fireplace made her loose long rosewood hair shine with fiery streaks. She came back to him, leaning on him, one hand merging in his wavy midnight hair, the other caressing his muscled arm, while her mouth grazed his peppered chest.
He mumbled her name, his hand immersing in her silky hair, pulling her closer for more explorations. This she-wolf of a wife would undo him in no time. But he let her touch him as much as she liked. She did not play shy, she grazed, kissed, caressed, nibbled the whole of his exposed body. He pulled the lace at her neck, causing her shift to fall to her waist, his eyes drinking in her beauty. When her curious hand descended intent down his abdomen, he hauled her in his arms and took her to bed.
She did not let up, no. Climbing over him on her bed, her hand continued its trip, snaking inside his trousers, finding him hard and leaking.
“Oh.” He sighed and sagged back on the fluffy mattress, powerless to stop her naughty stroll. “Aurelia.” He mumbled in the end of his forces. “Please, stop it or there will be nothing left for you.”
She eyed him so provocative. “Oh… pity.” She bit her lips with clear intention. “I wanted to…”
“No!” He cut her. The image of her lips on him nearly made him explode.
She leant over him; he found her exposed breast and took it in his mouth, distracting her. He suckled the delicious globe, palming the other, turning her on her back as she groaned, her hair falling around her.
Completely nude now, she cradled him, holding his lips on her bosom, head bent back in pleasure. His hand held her ribs, revelling in her smooth skin, going down and down until he found her core, wet, ready. He caressed her with tormenting insistence as she contorted under him.
“Conrad.” She called.
He continued his torture.
“Conrad.” She asked.
He paid her no heed.
“Conrad.” She pleaded.
Still he continued suckling harder on her breast.
“Conrad.” She supplicated.
His name on her mouth sounded paradisiac.
“If you do not come here now, I swear I’ll go on punching you!” She demanded.
Only then did he lift his head to her. “My she-wolf’s wish is an order.” He murmured in a half-smile.
He knelt before her, pulling the string that held his pyjamas trousers. It fell, revealing his grandiose erection to her hungry eyes. She fixed it with so much coveting he became harder, if such was possible.
With her feet, she dragged him to her, joining their bodies deliriously.
He groaned helpless. “You’ll be the merciless end of me!” He moved in her as she sought him ever more ravenously.
Repeatedly, they searched for each other, the intensity of their crave rocketing. He surged in her deeper and deeper, making her arch towards him. It gave him the chance to suckle on her breast some more. She groaned louder, arched more and then cried out her surrender. Her spasms milked him and he let loose his passion, pouring in her countless spurts of climax. Sated, he fell on his back, bringing her with him. He covered them both as they stayed in each other’s arms for a long time.
Conrad decided to ride to the fair, where he knew she would be. He did not need to look long for her. As soon as he spotted a group of people, he saw her in the middle of it. She conversed and smiled at everyone, so sociable, he found it difficult to fit it with the withdrawn wife he had at the manor.
Today, she dressed a water-green day dress, not in the latest fashion, but pleasant all the same, a shawl wrapped around her shoulders. Her bonnet shaded her perfect face. The amenable weather made for a cool temperature and a cool sun in between clouds. The light played with her features, resembling a Branwell Bronte’s portrait. He made a mental note to commission a portrait for her. Her beauty deserved no less.
The fair itself stretched over the main street and beyond with several booths selling the most varied products from food to clothing, shoes and riding gear. Many people walked about in groups, pairs or alone.
He tied his horse and approached the group. The ladies curtsied, the men nodded. He turned to her, eyes full of hidden messages; he bowed and kissed her hand in a slow caress. “Good morning, my Lady Strafford.” His voice sounding hoarser than he intended.
His eyes on her brought back their steamy…exchange of last night and heat suffused her cheeks. Her breath caught in her throat and she had to blink several times to shake the effect he had on her.
Aurelia felt dumbfounded with his arrival and his courteousness towards everybody. Talk about his never coming to the fair! Waking up alone in her bed had been no congenial task, by the by; she survived anyway. She had left soon after breakfast in the hopes of keeping distant from him all day. It appeared he would allow her no such a thing.
She curtsied. “Good day, my lord.” She went for a bland smile, but it came out provocative and…evocative.
The people around them watched the communication attentively. They had told her that he and she looked besotted last night. She cursed her behaviour then. She should have stayed home when she saw he intended to come. Miss the fun? Never! He could go to blasted hell. Not to mention the way the night ended. A fiery wave crossed her body at the memory. A memory she could not stop replaying over and over. It made her melt and crave. Yearn, like a blushing debutante! Damn him!
“Isn’t it a beautiful idea?” The strident Lady Johnson was saying.
Aurelia’s distraction with her husband made her lose the thread of the conversation. She looked around at a loss what to answer.
“My Lady Johnson, we would be honoured to come for tea, doubtlessly!” Conrad came to her rescue.
“Oh, certainly, Lady Johnson.” She amended hastily.
“We are settled then.” Conrad again. “Now, if you allow me, I would like my wife to show me the novelties of the fair.”
“Of course, my lord.” They agreed.
He offered her his arm and she had no other option than to go along.
“What are you doing here?” She demanded between her teeth, after they had distanced from the group.
“You left my bed quite in a hurry, I should say.” To which a renewed wave of blasting heat assailed her. “I wanted to know what the reason for it might be.” He smiled blandly at her, his eyes so intent on her shaded face she thought she might catch fire.
“Why can’t you just keep to yourself?” Her anger a notch higher.
“As far as I know, this is a public place.” He placed his hand over the gloved one of hers, causing a veritable gale in her guts. “I have the right to be here as much as you.”
“Splendid. Now you can leave me and go your own way.” He looked down at her to find her bonnet on the way.
“I beg to differ. My duty as your husband is to accompany and protect you.”
> “I’ve been doing fine in the last five years, wouldn’t you say?” She taunted him.
To which she got no reply for someone abruptly interrupted them.
“Conrad, my dear!” Mrs Somersby, the lawyer’s widow, extended her gauzy gloved hand coquettish to Conrad. “I heard you were back.” She smiled all too invitingly. Her ashen blond hair gathered up under her extravagant bonnet, which shadowed her pale, common blue eyes.
“Mrs Somersby.” He bowed, taking her hand lightly by the fingertips.
Conrad did not feel eager to reacquaint himself with one of his old days’…relations.
“Aurelia,” he turned to his wife. “Please meet an acquaintance of mine, Mrs Somersby. Mrs Somersby, this is Lady Strafford, my wife.”
Both women bowed their heads, in a cold compliment. The widow turned to him at once, ignoring his Viscountess.
She measured him from brow to toe appreciatively. “India did you good.” She mumbled ill disguising her thoughts.
“Time showed kindness to you as well, Mrs Somersby.” He complimented with icy politeness. In fact, he just wanted to walk away and continue bartering with his wife.
“So gallant of you, Conrad.” She placed her hand on his arm casually.
He bowed, so that he could subtly move away from her. “We take our leave, Mrs Somersby. My wife is about to show me around the fair.”
“Naturally.” She looked disdainfully at Aurelia, which angered him quite intensely. “You should come for dinner one of these evenings.” Her greedy eyes focused on his lips, causing him aversion.
He smiled faintly. “I don’t think so. Have a nice day.” He tipped his hat and walked past her, without seeing her irritated expression.
Aurelia begun to fume! Besides having to endure her husband’s intromission in her visit to the fair, she had to tolerate this woman! She knew the widow by name – and reputation. The last preceded her by miles. The widow of a wealthy lawyer for a long time, she did not have prejudices when it came to paramours. Married, single, old, young. Clearly, she also wanted to include her husband in her list. This infuriated her to sky-high levels.
From then on, the fair lost most of its enchantment to her. She entertained herself with the booths and new products, no doubt, but her mood had changed. For the worse. She tried to forget the incident. The burning in her guts, though, proved impossible to overlook.
Conrad accompanied her during her whole visit, buying her things and stopping to talk with people who came to greet her. It advanced to late afternoon when they returned to the manor. He with his horse and she with the carriage. Being alone inside gave her some breathing room to try and abate the burning in her chest.
Upon their arrival, a spring rain begun to pour over the fields, rendering the horizon whitish with the sheets of water. The weather seemed to be following her turmoil.
Dinner finished, Aurelia sat in the drawing room to do some mending. On the table beside her a tea tray. Dinner with her husband had been a silent affair. She had not been able to abate her bubbling rage after all. She did not even look at him for fear of losing control.
In the act of seeping her tea, he came in. Her fingers grasped the china so tightly it would splinter at any second. Hastily, she placed it on its saucer before she gave herself away.
He sat on the armchair next to hers, pouring himself another cup of tea. The candle lights illuminated the room in reddish glows, yielding a domestic atmosphere. They highlighted his tanned skin and made his hair blacker than black. His strong body sat back and he seemed very concentrated on his tea. She lowered her gaze quickly, lest he noticed her appreciation of him, despite everything.
“Don’t your parents attend the fair anymore?” He inquired as a means of conversation.
Her rosewood eyes snapped up with the unexpected question. “They seldom leave the manor after my father broke his leg on a hunting party.” She struggled to keep her tone even.
Conrad arched his brow, curious. “I didn’t know that.” His dark eyes direct on her, which stirred her unavoidably.
“Yes. It happened last autumn.” Lowering her head, she focused on the mending. “He hasn’t recovered fully and feels a lot of pain.” She stabbed the needle in the cloth. “Which makes them stay home most of the time.”
“I am sorry to hear that.” He sympathised. “Maybe a doctor from London would help?”
She lifted her head again, to find him with a worried expression on his handsome face. It surprised her to see he cared.
The Baron and Baroness of Middleton did not abound in wealth. “I wish they could afford it.” She said candidly.
“If they cannot, we can.” He declared without hesitation. “I will write a letter to an acquaintance of mine from the East Indian Company first thing in the morrow.” He volunteered, surprising her further.
“Thank you.” She said, going back to her mending.
His concern turned her into a cauldron of tattered feelings. He had been doing the most unexpected things lately. Not that the fury from this afternoon had dowsed. That being the worst, mingling her senses even more.
The discomfort inside and the tension his presence drew her to convinced her the time grew late. Late for a retreat, she thought cowardly. Devolving her sewing to the basket, she stood up.
“The hour grows late.” He stood immediately for politeness. “Good night.”
He bowed to her in reply, as she passed him towards the door.
In her bedchamber, she dismissed Abigail as soon as the girl finished unbuttoning her dress. The poor lady’s maid seemed exhausted with the rambling around the manor to accompany her.
She stood in front of the mirror with her mended shift, when the connecting door opened. She jerked abruptly at it, as Conrad stepped in, attired in his foreign tunic and trousers that rendered him so attractive, she almost forgot herself. She turned to him stonily, trying hard to tamp down his effect on her.
“What now?” When it came to him, her wits vanished with her verbal skills.
His sensuous lopsided smile did not help her composure. “I would say it is rather obvious.”
“Ha! Come to slake your lust, haven’t you?” She said acidly, hands flying to her waist.
“And yours, I dare say.” He strode confident to her, stopping inches from her feet, his spicy scent invading her peace of mind.
She burned. Burned from the afternoon events, burned for this pull he had over her, her feelings scattered all over the place.
“How dare you?” She fumed now. The idea of him and another woman chocked her!
“I am your husband.” His silky statement only superficial. “I have rights.”
“Rights?” Her voice dripping fury. “Who are you to bring up rights?”
He raised one brow, sardonic. “Your husband, to whom you promised an heir.”
“You scoundrel!” She spat livid. “You can go find your mistress!” He had not been able even to keep a mistress before now. His erratic behaviour afforded only passing…diversions, she suspected.
His eyes hardened at that. “I do not have a mistress!” He murmured hotly. “Nor will I ever have one!” He faced her head on, as she launched him a suspicious expression.
“You know why?” He continued, lowering his dark eyes to his middle; she followed and blushed crimson at the sight of his erection tenting his loose trousers. “Because I want solely you!”
The evidence of his desire, mingled with her rage and want, heated her to unbearable levels. Blindly, she approached him and punched him on his solid chest. “Damn you!” As if that would relieve her of her pressing emotions.
Delicately, he held her arms, pulling her to him. “I say I want you and you curse me?” His voice husky, seductive. His eyes intent down on hers.
She ogled him, face lifted defiantly. “You are a curse in my life!” She vented openly.
He bent his head, his lips on her slender neck. “Yes. Yes I am.” He murmured against her sensitive skin.
She closed
her eyes and sighed, unable to tamp down the fire he stoked in her. He pulled her closer, as their bodies touched from chest to toe. He explored the opening of her shift, transforming her in molten lava, his desire pressed temptingly against her belly.
Capitulation. The unique word possible of being uttered here. She capitulated before the feast of the senses he taunted her with. She did not even feel shame! The sensations he extricated from her so overwhelming she had no space for shame. She let herself feel his caress, as an undermining laxity dominated her. Unthinkingly, her hands sneaked under his silken tunic to find his muscled chest warm on her palm.
“Aurelia!” He exclaimed. “Yes, touch me, touch all of me!” He nibbled the pulse on her neck. “I need your heavenly callused hands on me.” Next, he plundered her yearning lips and they went lost to reality.
She held him under the tunic and responded fully to his kiss, as he pulled her tighter to him. Every time Conrad touched her, he became dumbfounded with her responsiveness, her fire, the way he could think of sharing his body only with her.
He came up for air, using the break to take out his pyjamas tunic. She looked at him mesmerized. The flames on the fireplace made her loose long rosewood hair shine with fiery streaks. She came back to him, leaning on him, one hand merging in his wavy midnight hair, the other caressing his muscled arm, while her mouth grazed his peppered chest.
He mumbled her name, his hand immersing in her silky hair, pulling her closer for more explorations. This she-wolf of a wife would undo him in no time. But he let her touch him as much as she liked. She did not play shy, she grazed, kissed, caressed, nibbled the whole of his exposed body. He pulled the lace at her neck, causing her shift to fall to her waist, his eyes drinking in her beauty. When her curious hand descended intent down his abdomen, he hauled her in his arms and took her to bed.
She did not let up. Climbing over him on her bed, her hand continued its way, snaking inside his trousers, finding him hard and leaking.
“Oh.” He sighed and sagged back on the fluffy mattress, powerless to stop her naughty stroll. “Aurelia.” He mumbled in the end of his forces. “Please, stop it or there will be nothing left for you.”
