ROMANCE: His Reluctant Heart (Historical Western Victorian Romance) (Historical Mail Order Bride Romance Fantasy Short Stories)

by Jane Prescott

  “I need you, Ted, I need more. Please make love to me, you are killing me,” Diana moaned, her words making Ted's cock ache with need as he lapped at her vagina.

  “Not so quickly, Diana. We will get there. I first wanna make you completely ready for my cock,” he said, burying his face back into sex.

  He then sucked her clit into his mouth and began working his lips and tongue on it, flicking his tongue around the sides, as Diana rhythmically moved her body. She was hot for him and it only seemed to get him even more turned on. He pushed a finger into her vagina, driving it deep into her wet folds and hooking at as he pulled it out, letting it brush deliciously over her G spot. Diana let out a squeal, and Ted could imagine just how good she was feeling, and yet she hadn’t even fully experienced his dick yet. She took her hands down to his head, pressing it into her vagina even harder and smearing his face with her love juices.

  “I want you to come for me, Diana, come for me before I drive my cock deep into your folds and take you to heaven with me,” he said into her pussy.

  *****

  Diana felt as if she had died and gone to heaven. She could not hold back the pleasure that Ted was giving her orally, and his finger had touched a spot within her vagina that she didn’t even know existed. He was practically making love to her in the most mind blowing way, and he had not even fucked her yet. His breath was hot in her folds as he encouraged her to come, and Diana was sure that she was just about to have the biggest climax of her life. She raised her head and looked at the way that he was sucking, licking and fingering her, the room filled with the scent of her arousal, and that was enough to send her over the edge. Her pussy muscles clutched the finger as she shuddered hard, climaxing like she had never done before. Before Diana knew what was happening, Ted got on top of her, in between her thighs. He then reached for her feet and pulled them up over her shoulders, pinning them at the sides of her head. She had never known that her body could become so flexible as he put her into a position that she had never been in before. Deeply in need to feel his cock inside her, she reached her hand down to his crotch and took a hold of his dick. Ted locked his lips onto hers, kissing her passionately as she guided his dick into her pussy.

  The monster cock ground into her sensitive folds, filling her up in ways that she had never been filled before. She felt the thickness of the shaft pulling her sensitive clit into her pussy with it, and Diana almost felt as if she had just gone to heaven and she was being rewarded for being a good girl. Kissing her and groping her breasts, Ted began to pound his manhood in and out of her vagina, the friction of his cock against her pussy walls driving her crazy with desire. Each thrust was harder and faster, and the heat within her folds intensified. Just when she thought she had just experienced the most pleasurable climax of her life, it looked like there was an even more enormous one coming. Their bodies pressed tightly together as the heat within them increased, bringing them closer to heaven. Diana had never felt so deeply penetrated, and she knew that she had just found something that she was addicted to. She felt his dick stiffening within her, just as she burst out into the biggest climax of her life. Ted grunted, driving his dick as deep as it could go into her vagina as his huge hot load shot deep within her, filling her up as his juices blended with hers. She gripped his dick hard, milking it of all its contents.

  They immediately collapsed onto the bed, as the plane started to go through some mild turbulence. Ted looked over to Diana and their eyes met in a loving gaze.

  “Well, are you ready to do this Mrs. Diana Wilkins?” Diana squeezed his hand and nodded. Tears welled up in both of their eyes as their lips locked and their hearts became one.

  THE END

  Lady of Scandal

  Chapter 1

  Bridget sat in peace and quiet in one of the drawing rooms, sewing at her tapestry, one of many. She constantly started new projects, but they quickly became boring. Life had become tediously mundane since her marriage to Mathias. She respected Mathias, he was a wonderful man, but their age difference meant that their interests were incompatible. It was obvious that he had married only because he wanted an heir, but in the three years of being together she had not conceived a child yet.

  With a big sigh, she put down her sewing needle and sat back in the chair, to rest her back. Sitting up straight could be such a pain sometimes. Closing her eyes, she wished they could go abroad, or even just visit someone, anything that would get her out of this large, empty house. Of course, the house was beautiful, but all those large portraits of Mathias’s descendants, looming down at her every time she climbed the stairway, could be quite disturbing.

  She had wanted to get involved in the running of the land, go out and meet the tenants, but Mathias would not hear of it. He said it was simply not acceptable for a respectable woman to be seen doing such tasks, speaking to men, especially from that social class, without a chaperone it was unheard of. Bridget had believed that getting to know all the tenants was a good idea, but there was nothing modern in her husband’s thinking. Mathias was such a stickler for traditions, and set in his ways. She knew this when she married him, after a brief courtship, but pressure from her mother, who worried she would end up a spinster, had left her feeling she had little choice. Mathias was a good catch there was no denying that, he was rich, very rich in fact, and would provide her with a very comfortable life. Though it was not comfort she required, but excitement and passion.

  So many times she had turned down proposals of marriage, one even to a man of the cloth. Foolishly she believed that she would marry for love, not for wealth or to increase her social status. She dreamed it would be a young handsome officer, dashing and romantic but it was not to be. When the local Lord Hexley had asked for her hand in marriage, she felt she had no choice. It was an honor for her family.

  Not all of Mathias’s relatives were content with her, but that had never bothered Bridget, let them gossip, they would soon get used to her presence and accept her, eventually. At least marrying an older man meant there were no parents to contend with, just two sisters, one of whom she adored, the other she hated. Mathias was the oldest of them, the youngest was the sister she got along with very well, but the older one was also so set in her ways that she could not ever imagine them liking each other. Unfortunately, Olivia, the friendly one, lived in Bath, many miles away from Derby, whereas Gertrude lived close by on a neighboring estate.

  Bridget rose from her chair and pulled the cord to ring the bell and summon the butler, she wanted to order her refreshment for luncheon, though she would be eating alone. She would sit out in the sun, in the beautiful garden. Mathias should be home for dinner, he had gone to visit his sister and Bridget had made excuses of a headache. All the more reason to sit out in the sun. Mason, the butler, arrived and she explained that the maid should serve her luncheon on the patio. He bowed and left. Though the house was full of servants, she still felt alone. Servants were not for socializing with, or having fun, the only person she could rely on for fun was Olivia Fitzwilliam, Mathias’s youngest sister, but it would be weeks before she saw her again.

  Her luncheon, although pleasant, was lonely and boring, as it was every day in this huge house. As she ate, she watched Malcolm Scott, the gardener, trimming the hedges with his clippers. The clickety-clack of the metal blades was almost hypnotic and soothed her thoughts.

  Mathias would be home for dinner, so Bridget dressed in a more appropriate dinner dress, her husband believed it important to keep up the traditions and dress properly, even if it was just for the benefit of the servants. However, she hated the restrictiveness of formal wear, especially the suffocating boned corset, which Bridget felt was far too restrictive and wore it as little as possible. Most of the time she wore a simple column dress for comfort, because most of the time her husband was not around.

  From her drawing room, she heard her husband arrive, it would be ages before his valet had him undressed and ready again for dinner, she may as well go and play some music on
the piano. That would help to relax Mathias; he loved to hear her play.

  The grand piano was placed in the large reception hallway, as that provided the best acoustics. She would see him come down the large winding staircase, when he was ready. If there was one thing she loved about this house, it was the piano, a beautiful instrument made in Italy and she loved to play it. She sat at the piano and opened the sheet music to a piece she knew her husband enjoyed, and started to play.

  He appeared, looking very smart in his dinner jacket. For all he was twenty years her senior, he was still quite a handsome man and impeccably dressed. Charlotte, one of her sisters, was married to a boat builder, and he always smelled of wood shavings. Thankfully, her husband did not smell of cows. He was a tall man, regal looking with a large nose, wide mouth and a shock of silver hair on his head. She stood up to greet him, smiling.

  “Darling, I would have been happy to wait until you finished, I like that tune,” he said, holding out his elbow for her to hook into.

  “That’s why I played it, Mathias, dear, so you would get a move on, I’m famished.”

  Bridget positively refused to sit at the other end of the long, dark table. She had asked the servants to always set her place next to her husband. It had taken him some time to adjust, but he soon saw the sense in it. He was not altogether unapproachable, he simply had too many traditions in his head. She hoped to break them one by one.

  Chapter 2

  Mathias had ridden off early in the morning to some social event, a man’s thing from what she understood. This probably involved drinking and gambling, although Mathias would only ever do anything in moderation. Sometimes she wished he would just completely unwind and go wild, and then at least he would have found an outlet, a means of having fun. As it was, she could not see when he ever let his guard down and totally enjoyed himself. Maybe she was wrong, she could not know as she was never invited to these events, they were strictly men only.

  Their lovemaking last night had been an uneventful affair, as it always was. The same usual position, Bridget on her back, he quickly penetrating her. Before long she would hear his usual grunt as he quickened his pace, and then it would be all over. If she was quick, she might get her own enjoyment, but he did not wait for her, why should he? What happened in the bed was for his benefit, not hers. Afterwards, he never lingered, he simply got out of her bed and returned to his own bedroom. She had tried to spice up their lovemaking, suggested different positions, but he simply looked at her aghast and absolutely forbade that they should discuss it again, and that was the end of the matter.

  She pondered over asking him for a trip to their home in London. At least there she could socialize more and attend dances in the city. He often had work in London, but Mathias rarely asked her to accompany him. He knew it would involve a prolonged stay, while she attended the latest balls and social gatherings, which meant he would have to attend too.

  It was the nearest she got to having any fun and getting away from this staid old house. She had such a wonderful time at the balls, she could dance with as many men as she desired, with her husband’s permission of course, without getting the scandalous looks from other women. Holding a stranger’s hand, even though she was gloved, was so very daring. While deciding what new dress she would buy for her first ball of the year, she took a walk around the garden. The sun was shining hotly, so she would take a pretty parasol, and maybe even stick to the shade.

  The smell of the flowers surrounding her was intoxicating. The gardener was an old man now, but he was an incredible gardener, always ensuring that the pathways were clear, he knew the mistress of the house enjoyed a stroll in the garden. It might not be classed as fun, but she loved to do nothing better than to sit in the round sun house, though it could do with the roof fixing. She would speak to Malcolm about it. He might be a bit old to fix it himself, but perhaps he could hire some help for a while.

  “Ahh, Malcolm, there you are,” Bridget said as she spotted the gardener busily pruning.

  “Me Lady, I always be in the garden, somewhere,” he smiled back and stopped his pruning to bow his head to the mistress of the big house. “How can I be helping her ladyship?”

  “Well, not you directly, but I would like you to hire someone,” she informed him. “For instance, I’m heading to the sun house now, but there is no longer any shade to be found within it. The hole in the roof needs fixing and I fear you are a little long in the tooth to be doing it yourself,” she finished.

  She stood and shaded her eyes, waiting for his reply, when she noticed a young man approaching them, pushing an empty wheelbarrow.

  “Oh, I see you already have hired help then? Did Lord Hexley already speak with you over this matter?” she asked, glancing at the new arrival.

  Bridget almost swooned at the sight of the handsome young man, as he neared them. He walked with a graceful step, even though he was pushing a barrow full of garden waste. His lithe body stood over six feet tall, wiry, but muscular. He wore a shirt, unbuttoned down to his navel, his lightly haired chest visible, and the sleeveless shirt displayed the rippling muscles of his arms, as he pushed the barrow. Bridget was shocked by her reaction at seeing him, her face flushed with heat and she knew it must be red from blushing.

  “Ah, no, me lady, this be my son, Tristan,” Malcolm replied, looking quite proud of himself. “He be passing through is all. He be injured in one of them blasted wars, and they sent him home to heal.”

  “Oh, my!” she said, a little shocked at such news. “Are you badly hurt?” she spoke to him for the first time and looked directly into his deep, brown eyes.

  “Shot wound to the leg, and a few torn ligaments,” he replied in a deep, husky voice. “On my way to Scotland where I’ll be recouping and building up my strength again, before I go back, ma’am.”

  “How long ago was this?” she asked, seeing that his leg looked healed.

  “Some months ago, ma’am,” he replied, not sure what he should call her, seeing as he did not even know who she was, only that she was a pretty thing. “I’ve had the dressings removed for a few weeks now, and I just need exercise. I also have some leave, so I stopped off here to see my Da.”

  “How very commendable, you have a brave young son, Malcolm,” she smiled at the gardener. What she was really thinking was that he had a handsome young son, but she was not about to tell him that.

  “I’ll arrange for him to come and have a look at that hole in the roof, me Lady,” Malcolm promised.

  Enough had been said, so she spoke no more, simply smiling and nodding to them both, then strolling on her way, heading to the summer house.

  Her heart was in such a flutter, as if a whole gathering of butterflies had nested there. Tristan was certainly a handsome young man, and it was not often she got to see a man’s bare arms, and those were fine specimens. The thoughts running through her mind were scandalous; she imagined placing her lips on that thick neck and kissing at his large Adam’s apple. Oh dear, what was she thinking? She had not had such thoughts since she was much younger.

  Settling herself into one of the comfortable chairs, with a book in hand, she was unable to concentrate on the words. All she could think about wat that young man’s muscled arms, wrapped around her slender waist.

  “Here I am with hammer and tools,” a deep voice resonated behind her.

  “Oh!” she jumped, shaken from her deep thoughts. “I did not think it would be done so quickly.”

  “I need to get as much done for my Da, while I’m still around,” he said, “he’s getting old and whilst he won’t admit it, he could do with a little help around here, the gardens are huge.”

  “Yes, yes, I will speak to my husband about hiring some help for him.”

  Bridget did not look at the young man while she spoke with him, she was scared that her face would give away her scandalous thoughts; instead she kept her eyes on the print of the book.

  He quickly got to work on the damaged roof, and Bridget kept surreptit
iously glancing over at him, her eyes flickering between the written page and his muscular body. The sun was high and the temperature in the sun house rising. After a few moments, she watched on incredulously as Tristan slipped of his shirt, baring his torso. She knew she should leave immediately; it was completely against all protocol that she should be alone with a man, let alone a half-naked one, but she could not help herself. Reluctantly she rose and started to leave the sun house, when an idea came into her head.

  “Could you kindly meet me tomorrow, after luncheon, on the south facing verandah, I would like to discuss some alterations to the pond with you, if you feel you have the time to look at such a project. I will also arrange to have you on the paid staff, while you are visiting with your father, seeing as you will be doing work on the grounds.”

  “That’s mighty kind of you, Lady, a soldier’s pay does not stretch far,” he stopped his measuring to thank her.

  “Wonderful,” she said, heading towards the door. “I will see you prior to luncheon tomorrow then. Good day to you, young Tristan,” she said, before quickly leaving without looking back, despite the overwhelming urge to do so.

  Chapter 3

  Bridget sprung out of bed the next morning, knowing she was to meet with the gardener’s son, Tristan. Why it excited her so much, she was not too sure, but it did. Looking at the boiled egg on her breakfast tray, she simply could not eat, so she nibbled on a dry piece of toast. She was like a love sick young lady, and must stop these thoughts in her head, but her mind took no heed of her.