‘It has come to my attention that I have been remiss in my conjugal duties with you.’
We were inside the hall now, and as Joseph carried me up the stairs, Faulks stepped out of the library.
‘Milord?’ he asked, but Joseph ignored him, instead taking the stairs in large wide bounds, two at a time.
Within a moment he pushed the door to my rooms open and placed me on the bed. I sank into the soft feather mattress, dampening it with my rain soaked gown.
Joseph stood before me, sopping wet, his hair plastered to his head.
‘I heard you with Albert,’ he said stiffly.
‘I… ‘
‘It was then I realised that you are a true lady. It was clear to my eyes that you were enjoying his touch, yet, you knew it was improper because you were married to me.’
I stared at him perplexed and confused. ‘Yes,’ I agreed.
‘But, I have neglected you, haven’t I Catherine?’ he whispered. ‘I’ve been so obsessed with treating you like the lady you are, I did not consider the needs of the woman you are.’
I was silent and looked down.
‘All my life, Catherine, I have feared becoming what my father was. He would dip his wick in anything that stood still long enough, and I feared I would become the same. When I married you …’ he paused and ran his fingers through his hair, ‘I did not want to treat you like my father had treated his wives. I didn’t want to fall on you like a ravenous beast.’
‘But, I wanted you to,’ I confessed, ‘as long as you fall on me, and only me.’
With those words, dear diary, I felt my shoulders lighten. He knew now, and I knew that as an honourable and proper man, he could not and would not deny me.
‘You have my word, and most solemn promise,’ he replied. ‘May I undress you?’
‘Please kiss me,’ I whispered in return.
When Lord Joseph Bexley reached over to me, I saw his hand tremble with want, need or fear. But I didn’t care.
His lips touched mine, soft and tentative at first, then hard and possessive. He tasted like smoke and whisky and I sent silent thanks to the philandering Lord Stanton and Albert, who’d opened his eyes when I had been unable.
When he pulled away, I was panting with need, and this time my husband recognised it for what it was. He turned me around, so that he could unlace my gown and stays. It took an intolerably long time, but soon enough I wore only my soaking petticoat.
‘To my waist? I asked, teasing.
‘I would have you naked now and every other time I come to you. I have been foolish not to enjoy the bounty blessed upon me.’
I smiled gratefully and slipped out of my petticoat and drawers, and reclined on the bed. I was excited now. The moisture seeped through my nether curls and the secret lips of my womanhood parted in anticipation. My husband was naked and his cock jutted with excitement before me. A pearly bead of seed glistened on it and I reached over and hesitantly touched it. He shuddered.
‘There is the matter of which we have left unspoken,’ he began, as my hand slid down the smooth length of him.
‘There is?’
‘You smashed my mother’s clock — on purpose.’
I hesitated then. ‘So I did,’ I choked. ‘Do you wish to … to … ‘
‘Punish you?’ Joseph finished for me.
I held my breath. ‘Yes.’ I was unable to hold his gaze, and I looked away.
‘No,’ he replied, coolly, ‘but I do want to spank you.’
‘Yes,’ I breathed. As my husband turned me onto my stomach I could scarce close my legs, my sex was so swollen with need.
I lay there, face down in my pillow, baring my buttocks to him, waiting.
‘You have a beautiful bottom. How I’d like to see it reddened by my hand,’ he murmured, and stroked the twin mounds gently. ‘Would you allow me?’
‘Yes.’ My answer was muffled by the pillow, but I gather my husband understood my response. Within a moment, a crack echoed around the room, and an instant later a sharp sensation shot through my buttocks and sparked between my legs. The word I cried out, dear diary, was the only one I could. ‘Yes!’ And a second later, he spanked me again. Forgive me dear diary, for my use of profane language, but my quim ached for his cock then. With every sharp strike upon my buttocks, the heady pressure in my quim grew. After a few more strikes, I was pleading him to take me.
‘Please,’ I moaned, ‘oh, please.’
Joseph did not answer but mounted me from behind, I could feel the large head of him, nestle at the mouth of my soaking sex. ‘Please,’ I moaned again.
When he sheathed himself within me I cried out as I felt stretched and full. He began to thrust hard and fast.
‘Catherine,’ he moaned loudly.
I could sense that he was about to shudder and climax as the pressure built in me.
‘If you stop now, I’ll die,’ I cried out between heaving breaths.
He hesitated for a short moment and then urged himself onward. My intense longing that had been dogging me since our wedding day grew, my skin felt aflame. As he thrust behind me, his thighs slapped my buttocks sending sharp spasms of arousal to my quim. Each one brought me closer to that elusive height.
‘Don’t stop,’ I gasped. ‘Keep going.’
My husband did as I bid, faster and more urgently than before. Each thrust sending me spiralling higher until the pressure grew unbearable.
‘Oh!’ I cried out as he thrust one last time. He filled me to the hilt of his cock and I finally reached that place. The intense pressure in my quim broke over me and pleasure spread through my body. I don’t think I breathed for a whole minute.
The pleasure rained down over me, leaving me tight and throbbing around his cock.
He collapsed atop, shuddering over me as I shuddered beneath.
Sunday 23 August, 1813
Dear diary,
It has been nearly a month since I last wrote — and what a month it has been. Since the day my husband found me with Albert Winteringham, things are much improved. Our discourses are open, our affection for each other growing, and perhaps most notably, our conjugal acts are full of satisfaction and neither I, nor he, feel shame for it.
I find it amusing that the purity of thought I had once hoped to find in professing my thoughts in this diary has not been achieved. In my humble opinion, purity is an overrated characteristic and one that should be banned from marriage altogether.
I have heard on the gossip mill that my husband and I are considered the very model of moral fortitude and decency in the many facetted eyes of society.
It therefore gives me much pleasure to divulge to you now, that behind closed doors my husband, the honourable Lord Joseph Bexley, and I indulge in some wicked things — but again, perhaps wicked is the wrong word. If I happen to break something on purpose — which I am known to do — my husband knows exactly what repercussions are warranted, and wanted. If my nerves are frayed by something I have seen, he knows precisely how to soothe them.
You see, dear diary, we have found the perfect balance. In the eyes of society my husband will ever remain a man of piety, prestige and perfect solicitude — but I will be forever grateful that in private, at least, he is not.
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ISBN: 9780857990617
Title: The Secret Diary of Lady Catherine Bexley
Copyright © 2013 by Viveka Portman
All rights reserved. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher, Harlequin Enterprises (Australia) Limited, Locked Bag 7002, Chatswood D.C. NSW, Australia, 2067.
All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention. ® and ™ are trademarks of Harlequin Enterprises Limited and are used under license to the Publisher. Trademarks indicated with ® are registered in Australia, New Zealand, the United States Patent and Trademark Office and in other countries.
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