The Lady and Her Secret Lover

by Jenn LeBlanc

  Then she cupped her breast, bringing herself up to break the surface so she could see her hand caress her furled nipple, wrap around her breast and squeeze as Louisa had done. She teased and played, her other hand chilling on the edge of the tub, holding her in place as she touched, watched, gathered the sensations into herself and held them close.

  A thread of want wove its way through her system, touching each of her fingertips, the tips of her ears, the nape of her neck, the very edges of her lips, the smooth length of her neck to the divot at the center of her collar bone.

  She let go of the tub and chased all of those sensations, like the ghost of Louisa’s touch. She slid her other hand from her breast to her mons, following the gooseflesh that rose despite the warmth of the water. Pushing her toes against the far edge of the bath, she anchored herself as she dreamed Louisa into being. She was wetter than wet and it had naught to do with the water.

  This was all she’d ever wanted, to go back to that night, before the ball, to come back to this time and this place and remember every moment, every heavy breath, every simple touch.

  Ellie sank against the edge, her head tossed back as her fingers worked through the wet folds of her vulva to find the entrance to her body, then she slid inside and found what she’d been looking for.

  Her whole body tensed, sending waves of water careening against the edge of the tub, and she tried to relax into it but couldn’t. She crossed her arm over her chest, her hand on her breast, holding, as she searched for that thread again but it was gone, like the weaver had tugged and the thread had respooled as fast as it had come, leaving an emptiness between her ribs.

  She soothed her body, disappointed once again. Perhaps she was broken. Perhaps she would never be able to come off again. Perhaps it was just that one time, where everything had been so precarious and yet perfect…or perhaps it was what Louisa had done to her. She’d made everything possible.

  Ellie needed more. And Louisa was the more she needed. She finished washing, then stood from the tub and dried herself before putting the robe back on. It was still decadent, the milk bath, the roses, the steam, the forbidden room. It wasn’t what she wanted, and her heartbeat echoed in that emptiness.

  Louisa

  The next morning, Louisa was requested to accompany Amelia with Castleberry and Hugh. Though she imagined herself a better choice than Lady Mathorpe, she wasn’t comfortable with the situation. They ended up rolling the carriage top down through the Row, where Louisa did her level best to hide herself and Hugh surreptitiously attempted to help her hide while comforting her rattled nerves without drawing attention. Amelia, blessedly, was in her own world, her mind turning on the men who accompanied them.

  Lunch was easier at Charles’s home. She received a short respite from the strain while the three of them were in the gardens, then joined them for dinner, which was interrupted, of course, by Amelia’s frayed nerves.

  “Charles, if you don’t mind, I would borrow your carriage to return home,” Amelia said.

  “We’ll accompany—” Castleberry started.

  “No, that won’t be necessary. Louisa?”

  Louisa stood but before she could move to Amelia, Hugh caught her arm and slid a note to her hand. Louisa looked down, then clenched her fingers around it as she caught his gaze, so many questions she wouldn’t be allowed to ask, like, Is it from her? and Why did you wait until now? She turned and wrapped an arm around Amelia’s waist. They walked to the mews as Castleberry instructed the footman and they left.

  It was everything Louisa could do to ignore the note she’d tucked in her pocket as they sped through London toward Pembroke House. Thankfully Amelia seemed to be in her own thoughts. When they passed once again through the Row, she took Amelia’s hands and held them, offering a bit of support in this public moment.

  By the time they returned, Louisa couldn’t even remember how they’d gotten here. Amelia having to nudge her to remove from the carriage. As soon as they entered Pembroke, they were called to the parlor and she was forced to hide in the doorway behind Amelia to avoid any recognition from the ladies in attendance. By the time she followed Amelia to her rooms, her nerves were fraught with tension. She helped Amelia to change, then went to her own room to hide for as long as she could manage.

  She sat on the bed and pulled the note from the pocket in her skirts. There wasn’t even a direction on the note. It was folded then waxed shut. She pulled it open. It was Hugh’s handwriting, but her heart thumped when she saw her name. Maitland. It had been a long time since she’d thought of her as a person beyond her Ellie, yet here she was.

  She closed her eyes. She’d been determined to put her from her mind to care for Amelia and get out of London as quickly as possible, forever, hopefully. That wasn’t bound to happen. She opened her eyes and read.

  Maitland wishes to meet with you.

  If you wish for the same, you may use my rooms.

  You know the direction. There is a key beneath the pot at the stoop.

  I’ll be in attendance at the Greenborough ball tonight in the hopes of seeing Amelia.

  You’ll have most of the night.

  Should you decide to go, please be careful, as I will be otherwise engaged.

  Louisa wasn’t sure how she felt. She’d only just decided—though deciding to do something and doing it were different things and her heart wasn’t on board with the decision, it never had been. Louisa was older, wiser. She may be frightened being back in London because her father seemed to have no morals but…she could do whatever she wanted. And what she wanted was Ellie.

  Ellie

  Ellie paced in Ender’s library, unsure what would happen if Louisa never came. She shook her head. Louisa would come. She would. She pulled a copy of Punch from one of the messy shelves, sitting on the settee and flipping through the pages to distract herself.

  “Punch is a bit low-brow for a lady, isn’t it?” The voice teased like those fingertips on the glass. They crept along her skin, sinking through to her veins, then rushing her heart and sending it to beat in an unwieldy sort of manner.

  She closed her eyes and concentrated on her breathing. She wished she didn’t have to concentrate on it quite so much. Her ladies maid was a terror with the laces.

  “Nothing to say?” She was closer, her voice heavier than she remembered. There was more in it.

  She recognized the girl she knew, but also recognized that it no longer belonged to her. It was smoke where before it had been a mere breeze. “Lou—?” Her breath hitched and she couldn’t finish. She reached to her chest and wrapped her fingers around the edge of her dress, pulling it away for air. “I can’t—” Air shifted, light faded, and Ellie knew Louisa knelt before her. “Louisa?” she begged. She couldn’t look. She couldn’t be faced with an empty room and yet another shattered dream. “Please.” She dropped the paper and covered her eyes with her other hand.

  “Ellie,” Louisa said, and the breath it came on caressed her cheek a name she longed to hear and thought she never would. “You’re so beautiful. Just as I remember. If I’d known…if I’d known…if I’d known, I would have held on longer. I would have memorized every bit of you.” Louisa pulled her hand away, then kissed her eyelids, swept her hands into her hair and pulled her forward. “Ellie, how I’ve missed you.” And just like that they were kissing. And it was so much more than it ever was before. Like there hadn’t been color in the world until now and Louisa painted with every brush.

  Ellie took her wrists in her hands and pulled her up into her lap as she searched, and found, the body of a woman where there had been the body of a girl. Her hands were full, her flesh heavier against them, and Ellie wanted for nothing but more.

  “Ellie, can’t you look at me?”

  She shook her head in response. She wanted only to feel, it was all she could manage. “I’m so afraid, Louisa. I’m so afraid,” she cried, and Louisa kissed the tears away, her lips so soft on her own skin, the tip of her tongue hot sending sparks throu
gh her system, waking every nerve.

  “I know. So am I,” Louisa replied, and Ellie opened her eyes then.

  This was no dream. She was here, in her arms, as she’d been the last time she’d ever seen her. She slid her hands around her waist and grabbed whatever loose fabric she could find, pulling her tight against herself as she gazed into her eyes and refused to look away because now that she held her in her sight, there was no chance she would give her up again.

  “God, Louisa,” she said, and then there wasn’t much talking. There was breathing. There was sobbing. There were soft, swollen breasts with tight, wanting peaks of flesh. There was the sound of fabric bunching and shifting and tearing. There was not a single care in the world for what would happen next, outside of this room.

  Louisa’s hands were everywhere as they shifted, trying to come together, their need to be closer still impossible to ignore. Ellie needed, so very much did she need, to feel the heat of Louisa’s center, as she had in that bath. To erase every single moment that had happened since then. To do what she’d wished to that night. She wanted to forget everything that had happened between. She wanted to go back to when Louisa had been hers and there’d been nothing in the world between them. She wanted what she’d been promised that night but had never received.

  She pulled Louisa’s skirt up and away, and for the first time in her life declared drawers to be a blessing instead of a hindrance. They twisted together until she shifted and fell to the side, bringing Louisa on top of her, so she could explore and not have to hold on so very tight. Her body was pliable, forgiving, lissome, warm.

  She reached between them, following the heat of her own body until she met the heat of hers. Then like a prayer, she reached for heaven. Louisa threw her head back and sank down on Ellie, and she cupped her mons and explored her vulva. So soft. So impossibly soft. And wet. And supple. And impossible.

  “Oh God, Ellie, more. Like that. Hold me like that, then reach inside. Let me move.” She glanced back down to Ellie, “Just let me…”

  Ellie pushed her fingers deep through her wet folds until she found the space that gave way to her body.

  “Yes, Ellie, just there. Push up into me. I want you there…just there…yes.”

  And Ellie pushed. And Louisa cried out as she moved on her hand, and Ellie held her tight, watching her face and all the glorious expressions she made. Then Louisa shifted, her thigh coming between them and brushing Ellie’s mons, and every memory from that night returned like a wave and she arched up into her, pushing back and pulling her close, and she couldn’t get close enough, she couldn’t get closer, it wasn’t possible, and Louisa’s body tightened in her arms.

  “Come off with me, Ellie. Come with me,” she breathed, but Ellie shook her head.

  “No, I want to watch. I want to see.”

  And Louisa smiled that half smile that Ellie loved so much, had missed so much, before shifting harder against her palm. “Then hold me close, Ellie, and don’t look away. God, what you do to me, Ellie. There’s nothing—”

  Her expressions shifted like she was hunting something, then fear and shock and finally something like wonder bloomed across her face and she froze. She grabbed Ellie, held on tight, her hips pushing as the rest of her went rigid and Ellie watched, blessed by the act of it. Louisa reached up to her chest and tugged at her corset, freeing one dusky nipple, then she pinched it and Ellie leaned up and took it into her mouth, playing with the tight bud, as Louisa wove her hand into Ellie’s hair and held on.

  “Ellie,” she called out in a desperate whisper. “Ellie, don’t let go. Ellie, oh God.”

  Ellie tightened her hold on her waist, slipped her fingers farther into her wetness as Louisa pushed into the heel of her hand and came off with her name on her lips, a graceful breath that Ellie would never forget.

  It was so vulgar, the mashing of bodies, but the result was so beautiful, so striking, and Ellie loved everything about it. She couldn’t get enough. She held Louisa tight through all the little aftershocks of it until Louisa pushed Ellie’s hand away, unable to handle any more.

  How beautiful she was, her face so pink and glowing, her breasts full and tight, her body vibrating like a honey bee covered in pollen.

  “I want to taste you,” Louisa said, and Ellie shifted. She hadn’t realized Louisa had collapsed against her, and they’d lain there for long enough for her breath to steady and her body to calm. It had been too long since Ellie had felt such peace.

  “You what?” Ellie asked, but then Louisa kissed her and Ellie sank into it, tasting so much more than the sweetened lemon and spice. She kissed her again, reaching for the answer, to know what it was. Salt and scent, the very air of her arousal on her lips. They were saturated with it, the smell of heat, and warmth, and sex. Perfectly lurid. She giggled; she couldn’t help it.

  “What?” Louisa said, leaning back.

  “Just… What would Hugh think to walk in here after this?”

  “That he’s the luckiest man alive to be in the presence of such passion?”

  “What—” Ellie drew a breath and let Louisa lick and kiss her face and her neck and chest. Then her own breasts were free, and Louisa took them in her mouth together, and hummed in pleasure as Ellie melted into the settee, her body warm and open and waiting for more, whatever that more would be.

  Louisa slid, pushing aside fabric until a cool air hit Ellie’s skin, her vulva so hot the air was brilliantly delicious. Then Louisa slid to the floor and was between her legs as Ellie was sprawled before her, unabashed, waiting for whatever came next. Louisa smiled, and Ellie ran a hand down her cheek to her chin.

  “You’re so beautiful, my Ellie. You know that, right? I’m sure you’ve heard it from countless suitors in my absence.”

  “I’ve heard it from no one, because I haven’t been listening for anyone but you, Louisa. My Louisa. There can be no one. There’s no one, there never will be. I’m quite decidedly in love with you,” Ellie said.

  “But Ellie—”

  “No, Louisa, you don’t seem to understand. I’m lost to this world, to society, to my family. I cannot marry I cannot go before God and lie and promise myself to a man I cannot in good conscience love and care for. It’s an impossibility.”

  Louisa leaned up on her knees and took Ellie’s lips once more, this kiss gentler than before. Dedicated. Then Louisa searched again with her mouth, exploring all of Ellie’s skin, until she came between her thighs and before Ellie knew what she was about, Louisa licked her full, then placed a gentle kiss on the burgeoning bud at the crest of her slit.

  She amused herself there with generous tongue and gentle teeth, willing the small bit of flesh to grow and thrust toward her, and Ellie…Ellie hadn’t felt the likes of it since that night and the rest washed away on Louisa’s tongue as she tasted, tempted, and took Ellie to that special place Ellie could only ever go with Louisa. Her Louisa. This was it. There was nothing else for her; she didn’t care what came next as long as Louisa was by her side, holding her hand.

  Ellie lifted her head to see all those perfectly placed dark curls wound in a tight chignon in such contrast to the pale white of her skin. It was stunning and beautiful and Louisa’s eyes opened to catch her gaze and when she smiled, Ellie felt it first against her slick skin, then in her belly where it rested, pulsed and pushed. Growing and building.

  “Louisa?” She let her head fall back as she pushed against her mouth, her tongue swirling around her clitoris, then sliding into her body before retreating behind a gentle kiss.

  “Yes, my love? What feels good? What do you want me to do?”

  She looked up again. “It all feels good, Lou, I don’t know what else I— Can you just— I don’t know. Whatever you want, Louisa, whatever you want. It all feels so good,” Ellie said then she sank against the pillows once more, concentrating on Louisa’s mouth, her tongue, her fingers…touching…tentative… searching. Louisa spread her tongue against Ellie’s vulva before sucking her clitoris into her mo
uth, and her finger replaced the tongue on her opening, the hardness of it in stark contrast to the softness. Ellie shifted, and Louisa lifted up to look at her.

  “Ellie?” she asked, and Ellie nodded, at a loss for words. Louisa slid one delicate finger inside Ellie, pushing up toward her belly as Ellie curled up around it, the sensation new and beyond anything she’d yet to experience tonight.

  Louisa moved forward then and took Ellie’s mouth, kissing her back to the settee as she scrambled over her, her finger still working inside her, her thumb stroking her clitoris as Louisa moved again this time sucking Ellie’s nipple into the wet warmth of her mouth and Ellie cried out, and this time Louisa allowed it, and Ellie realized it was because, for whatever reason, here they were safe and Louisa knew it.

  The cries of a woman were acceptable in a single man’s home. Here we are safe. It was a ridiculous notion, yet true. People would look askance but they would shrug it off as though nothing had happened. Men, you know, would do their man things, in their man spaces. And without Ender, they had no space safe enough to be together.

  Ellie sobbed at the sudden thought of it and Louisa brought her other hand up, enjoying her rosy nipples in tandem as Louisa kissed her once more and Ellie paid attention again, tasting herself on Louisa, tasting herself instead of Louisa and the very thought of it, the stroke of a second finger, the pinch of her hand on her nipple, brought that growing feeling in her belly to break open, crashing around her, spilling from her fire as her back bowed up off the settee, carrying Louisa with her as she flung her arms out to hold on to anything and Louisa helped her over the cliff and down into a sweeping, soaring mess of feminine flesh and fabrics.