by Darcy Burke
“How wonderful.” And truly it was. Diana yearned for something simple and true, but knew she was unlikely to find it. Even if she did muster the courage to start a new life, she doubted love would fall into her lap. Or that she’d meet it in a stable.
Finishing her braid, she decided to take advantage of the other woman’s presence. “I’m afraid I need help removing my gown. Mr. Byrd usually helps me, but it might be nice if I was already abed when he returns.”
Mrs. Ogden’s eyes lit. “I know where your mind’s at! Of course I’ll help. Turn around.”
Diana pivoted, and the other woman yanked at the ties of her gown until it was loose, then helped take it over Diana’s head. She draped it over the top of the screen while Diana removed her petticoat, then returned to help with Diana’s corset.
“This is very fancy.” Mrs. Ogden’s voice carried a hint of awe. “Must’ve cost a fortune.”
Diana didn’t know what to say. It had cost a fair penny. “I think I might prefer something simpler like yours. Something I could take off by myself.”
“We could swap,” Mrs. Ogden offered. “On second thought, there’s no way yours would fit me. You’re a tiny thing.”
Mrs. Ogden did have probably three inches of height on Diana, and her bosom was far more impressive. In fact, Diana suffered a bit of envy at the woman’s curves.
Diana pulled the undergarment from her body and, standing in just her chemise and stockings, nearly choked at the sight of Mrs. Ogden using her hands to lift her breasts, as if she were weighing them. Looking down at the globes, the woman said, “This is why I’m fairly certain there’s a babe. They aren’t usually this big.” She grinned at Diana. “Though Mr. Ogden seems to like them!”
Once again speechless, Diana turned to find her bag in order to fetch her night rail. Finding it, she said, “Well, good night, then. Thank you for your assistance.”
“Happy to help,” Mrs. Ogden said, going toward the bed.
Diana moved behind the screen and removed her chemise and stockings. Donning her night rail quickly, she was glad for the proximity of the fire. She hoped Mr. and Mrs. Ogden would be warm enough in the bed, but then it looked as if it had plenty of blankets. In fact, she ought to ask for one of them so she could roll it up to put between her and Romsey, but she didn’t care to explain why she wanted it—not when they had the fire and the Ogdens didn’t.
Settling herself into the pallet and drawing the blanket up to her chin, she closed her eyes and prayed that she would fall asleep quickly, preferably before Romsey returned.
That prayer, like so many others, went unanswered.
Hearing the men enter and bidding each other good night, Diana turned toward the fire. A few minutes later, the blanket moved, and she felt the warmth of Romsey’s body close to hers. The pallet, damnably, wasn’t very large.
She felt more awake than ever, her body screaming with awareness, both because of Romsey behind her and the other couple in the room. After a moment, she heard noises coming from beyond the screen. A sigh. A giggle. A soft moan.
Oh my goodness.
Diana closed her eyes tight and pulled the blanket up a bit more to nearly cover her ear.
But it wasn’t enough. A few minutes later, the moans became louder and more drawn-out. Then came a keening cry.
Diana jumped, flipping to her back, her eyes wide.
“Shhh,” Romsey said softly.
Diana looked at him. His dark eyes reflected the light of the dying fire. “What’s wrong with her?” she asked urgently.
“Nothing.”
The cry intensified and stopped. Diana began to exhale, but then Mrs. Ogden let out several successive whimpers. Diana tensed. “Surely there’s something wrong. She sounds as if she’s in pain.”
“She is not,” Romsey whispered. “I can assure you, she is not.”
“Then what’s wrong with her?”
Romsey took a deep breath, his gaze never leaving hers. “Have you no idea what goes on between a man and a woman?” He kept his voice low so that she had to strain to hear.
“Yes, of course I do.” Her mother had told her in painstaking detail how a man would put his…member between Diana’s legs, and it would hurt. He would grunt and pant and deposit his seed, and she would be grateful. It sounded awful, and her mother had simply shrugged and said that all women must endure it. But then she’d also described kissing as a horrid activity akin to having one’s skin peeled off. Diana knew that to be patently false and now wondered if the rest of her mother’s descriptions had been lies as well. Although, it did sound as if Mrs. Ogden were being put on the rack…
Something entered Romsey’s eyes, and they narrowed slightly. “You think it’s unpleasant.” He shook his head. “It’s not. At least, not when it’s done right. In fact, you can take pleasure all on your own—you don’t need a man. Did you know that?”
Struck speechless yet again, she simply stared at him.
“I see,” he murmured.
She could give herself pleasure? Where she cried out like Mrs. Ogden? She wasn’t sure she wanted that, and yet judging from the chorus of “yes,” coming from the bed, perhaps she ought to reserve judgment.
She recalled her earlier thoughts, about how she’d never been able to choose anything. This was something she could choose. As long as she was rebelling, she might as well make it memorable.
Diana turned toward him, anticipation curling through her. “Would you show me?”
His nostrils flared, and his eyes darkened until they were nearly obsidian, save the gold flecks that gleamed in the firelight. “Diana, do you have any idea what you’re asking me?”
The shock of her audacity gave her a moment’s pause, but only a moment. This was beyond the pale, and she should be overcome with shame. Except she wasn’t. Nor did she want to be. “Not really. That’s why I need you to show me. Unless you can’t. Perhaps I should ask another woman?”
“No, no.” His voice was tight, strained. “I can show you. Or guide you.” He took a deep breath and let it out, then propped his head onto his hand, settling his elbow into the pallet. “It’s best if you roll to your back.”
She did that, and suddenly, the sound of the bed violently hitting the wall filled the room. Her jaw dropped, and Romsey leaned over her, his finger coming to his lips.
“It’s all right,” he whispered. “I don’t expect it will be long now.”
Diana had no idea what he meant. “Until what?”
“Until they finish.”
“How can you tell?”
“There’s a progression…an intensifying of sensations…a build-up of pleasure that reaches a climax.”
Diana thought she understood. “Ah, that’s when he leaves his seed inside her.”
“Yes, but more importantly, that’s when the pleasure is at its most spectacular.”
Her limbs felt lighter suddenly, her breasts heavier. These changes to her body were strange but not unpleasant. “Does this happen to women? We don’t have any seed.”
“No, you don’t, and yes, it does happen to women, although if a man doesn’t know what he’s doing and a woman doesn’t know her body well enough to understand what she wants, it’s possible, nay likely, she won’t achieve the same pleasure. It’s called an orgasm.”
This was all so intriguing. Diana nearly forgot about the sounds coming from the bed. “Is that what you’re going to show me how to do? Have an orgasm?”
“Yes.” His voice sounded strained again, as if he were on the rack.
“Is this going to be a problem for you? You don’t sound very enthused,” she said. Too bad, because she was warming to the idea of learning what an orgasm felt like.
His mouth curved into a small but seductively charming smile. “I’m plenty enthused, actually. Shall we begin?”
Before she could answer, the sounds from the bed intensified. Mrs. Ogden let out a high wail while her husband grunted, then moaned loudly. Then the bed stopped hitting the wall.
“Are they finished?” Diana whispered.
“I think so.”
“Then I suppose I should start. What do I do?”
His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “This is going to involve your sex. Or we can call it your pussy. Or your cunny. It has a variety of names. Do you have a preference?”
Heat flooded her face. “I don’t.” She resisted the urge to turn and hide from him. No, she was going to do this.
“Put your hand on it—your sex,” he clarified.
Diana reached down beneath the blanket and gently touched between her legs. “Should I lift my night rail?”
“Yes.”
She did that and rested her hand against her curls. A mixture of embarrassment and curiosity set her nerves rattling.
“Now, there are parts to your cunny. Would you like to know what they are?”
“If I must.”
He smiled again. “It would help. There are lips on the outside. They shield what you protect on the inside.”
Lips…she supposed that made sense.
“Touch them. You’ll need to part your legs a bit. Truthfully, the more you part your legs, the more you may enjoy it.”
The heat that had just begun to fade from her face came rushing back. She faltered. “I don’t…”
“Do you want me to help?” The question was so low, she barely heard it.
She couldn’t bring herself to make the words, so she nodded.
His free hand moved beneath the blanket, and he found her hand. “Part your legs, just a bit, and open those folds.”
Folds. Lips. The vocabulary began to jumble in her brain.
But then his hand guided her, his fingers moving over her fingers, parting her flesh. She gasped. “I’m…wet. Is that normal?”
“That’s not just normal, that’s wonderful. That wetness is what helps a man’s cock—sorry, another word for you—glide inside. It will also increase your pleasure. When there’s no moisture, it’s not very pleasant.”
She tried to imagine a—cock—sliding into her, and that heat that had suffused her face flushed through the rest of her body. Her pelvis twitched, and she suddenly wanted to press her fingers inside herself.
He seemed to know because that was what he guided her to do. Positioning his index finger over hers, he pushed hers inside, causing her to gasp once more. “That should feel pleasant at least.”
“It feels… I-I don’t know what it feels like.” She was caught in wonder, trying—and failing—to understand everything. And her control was slipping.
“The most important part of your anatomy here is this.” He guided her finger up to the top of her sex, where the…lips ended. “This is your clitoris. If you just rub this, you might even orgasm—without putting your finger inside. Some women do.”
She squinted up at him. “You have a great deal of experience.”
His expression turned wry. “A fair amount.”
Diana felt a burst of irrational jealousy. “Have you done this before?”
“Taught a woman to pleasure herself? No, Diana, this is a first.”
He’d called her Diana. She should be shocked, but that seemed laughable given their current state. Instead, it had sounded like a caress, and only served to heighten her desire. Yes, desire. She wanted this.
“What do I do to make that happen?”
He swallowed again, and she realized his breathing was a bit shallow. Was he all right?
Before she could ask, he used his fingers over hers, massaging her flesh. “Rub yourself. Here. Can you feel that little nub? Try to find it with your finger.”
She searched until she found something that felt…nubbish, she supposed. “There.”
“Close your eyes.” His voice was soft and dark, lulling her into a state of seductive excitement as his hand instructed hers how to move. Slowly, softly, then faster with more pressure.
The pleasure he talked about—how it would build—started there. She sucked in a breath and opened her eyes. He was still watching her, his gaze impossibly dark and his face stretched taut.
His motions grew larger so that her fingertips slipped down along her folds, to where the moisture had gathered even more. She was quite slick now, and the sensations shooting through her were becoming more intense.
Her hips twitched. She wanted to arch up with the motion, to meet her hand—and his. Her breasts tingled, and the comment Mrs. Ogden had made about her husband liking her breasts rooted in Diana’s mind. She opened her mouth to ask what that meant, to maybe ask Romsey to touch her there, but a shock of pleasure shot through her and she gasped instead.
He picked up speed, pressing her fingertips against her clitoris and moving their hands so quickly over her flesh that wave after wave of ecstasy came over her. She began to see, to understand…
She wanted more. She wanted him to touch her, to put himself inside her, to at least thrust his fingers into her. She ached to be filled, to be…satisfied.
“Simon.” His name fell from her lips, but she couldn’t find a single other word to say, to beg for what she wanted.
But then it wasn’t necessary. He moved their hands down once more, slicking them again and repeated his frenzied attack on her clitoris.
Then his hand was gone. She fumbled, pausing for a moment and losing the thread of what had been barreling down on her.
“Don’t stop,” he urged. “Harder. Faster. Let your legs fall open. Give yourself what you crave.”
She did what he’d taught her to, ravaging her flesh with hard, desperate caresses. Without thinking, she thrust her finger inside and cried out as it happened. Orgasm. Her belly pitched, and her muscles clenched so hard, she marveled at her own body. Or she would have if she hadn’t been so utterly wrapped up in delicious darkness, a cocoon of rapture so lush and so gratifying that she never wanted to come out.
And yet she did.
She’d no idea how long it took, but she emerged from the other side, opening her eyes as her breathing started to slow. His lips were parted as his own breath came in harsh rasps, as if he’d come with her on the journey.
“Did you…orgasm too?” she asked softly.
“No. I don’t think that would be wise.”
Why not? She’d never felt anything so wonderful, so fulfilling, so bone-meltingly satisfying. Her limbs felt heavy and sated, as if she could sink completely into the pallet.
She blinked, noting that his face was still drawn with tight lines. “Why not? Can’t a man pleasure himself?”
He smiled again, his lips spreading into a heart-stopping grin. That’s just what Diana’s heart did for a brief second—it stopped and flipped over before picking up its rapid pace once more. “Yes, we can. In fact, I think I must. But not here. Go to sleep. I’ll see you in the morning.”
He pulled the blanket back and sat up. The firelight splashed across his naked torso, revealing for the first time the smooth plane of his masculine flesh to her. She didn’t look away. She couldn’t, not when she wanted to touch the muscles sculpted into him, the arc of his shoulder blade as he turned away from her.
She reached out and grabbed his arm, her fingers closing around his bicep. “Where are you going?” The question came out a bit louder and harsher than she’d intended.
He turned his head. “To…take care of things.”
“But—”
“We’ve had enough lessons for one night. Please, Diana, let me go.”
She uncurled her fingers from his flesh and lay back against the pallet, her gaze never leaving his body as he drew his breeches on over his small clothes and pulled his shirt over his head. Then he went to the table, where he put on his boots. A moment later, he was gone from the room, leaving Diana to wonder what she had done to drive him away.
Chapter 5
He’d barely slept at all.
As the first tendrils of gray morning light crept beneath the curtains on the window, Simon blinked. But he had slept. Otherwise, he wouldn’t now find
himself tangled with Diana.
Her back was pressed to his chest, her leg thrust between his. Despite frigging himself in an embarrassingly short amount of time last night, his cock was hard and eager against her hip. This was bloody torture.
He eased himself away from her, putting scant, but necessary, inches between them. He rolled to his back and draped his hand over his eyes to block out not just the burgeoning light, but the memory of last night.
And failed miserably.
The eagerness of her enticing arousal and the innocence of her ardent response had completely undone him. He’d nearly spilled himself as he lay beside her. He sensed that she wouldn’t have minded if he’d finished himself right then, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He’d already gone too far. How in the hell were they going to spend today together in the close confines of the coach? Let alone the rest of the days? Thankfully, they were about halfway to their destination. Maybe three or four more nights. He prayed the weather continued to hold.
Removing his arm from his eyes, he looked over at her again. Her beauty stole his breath. She was now on her back, her dark lashes fanned over her pale cheeks, and her dark pink lips beckoned for his kiss.
He practically jumped off the pallet in his eagerness to be away from her. He dressed quickly and quietly, then pondered what to do next—wake her or steal outside to frig himself again?
He didn’t get to decide because Ogden chose that moment to leap out of bed stark naked. “Morning, Byrd. I trust you slept well!” He chortled, then shuddered. “Damn me, it’s cold!” He quickly found his shirt and drew it over his head.
Simon turned from him and peeked around the pallet to see if the ruckus had awakened Diana. She was rubbing her eyes and pushing herself up to a sitting position. The blanket fell to her waist, exposing the thin lawn of her night rail. Simon could make out the gentle curve of her breasts and quickly jerked his gaze up to her face. That wasn’t any safer. Her lids were still heavy and her lips parted. She looked as if she’d just been shagged. Or maybe that was only his wishful thinking.