My pleasure ignited his, and so the pounding behind me intensified. Enri’s hand rose to my breasts and he kneaded one of them mercilessly while his breathing grew fast and labored in my ear. He rolled me over onto my belly, and pulling me up like a bitch in heat fucked me hard like a dog. I felt skin slap bare skin, and was a little embarrassed at sloppy noise made my own wetness as he probed deeper and deeper. Enri’s hands clasped my buttocks as he guided my rhythm to exactly match his own.
I felt the intensity of his orgasm as he pumped his seed into me. His groan would have been feral but since we weren’t alone in that great house, he fought hard against nature to stifle it. At his zenith his thrusts were vicious, but once his lust was spent, he slowed down to three or four more gentle pulses. Then, in the end, he had nothing more to give, and collapsed beside me, and pulled my buttocks close into his groin.
“You did well, Gabrielle,” he sighed. He tenderly played with my dark ringlets and kissed the hot nape of my neck. “You taste salty. I might lick the salt off your entire body later on.”
“Did I please you?” I asked. Doubt began to penetrate my heart and I wondered if I’d given him true satisfaction.
“Very much,” Enri whispered. I felt his finger trace the side of my body, and though I knew he had nothing left, I was surprised at how soon I could be made ready again. “We will do this again soon, my darling, have no fear. And you will let me punish you when you displease me.”
I didn’t like the thought of displeasing him and pushed my backside against his cock to confirm my submission. “You can trust me, my love, I swear it.”
“I believe you.” Enri’s arm wrapped tightly over mine, and he pulled me hard into him. We lay together in silence, and though we dared not sleep, listened to the gentle hum of the Parisian ball as its music continued through the night.
PARTING CHARITY
By Sadie Dane
Charity could not get the stench of pig filth out of her nose. George Bishop was always coming in too close for comfort. It wasn't only that he insisted on standing so near to her, but he asked again if she'd given any more thought to his marriage proposal. Charity would have sooner lived with his pigs before she agreed to marry him. She pulled her coat more closely around her and walked quickly down the side of the rocky road.
Behind her, Charity heard the clip-clop of horse’s hooves, and she moved to the side as a black carriage passed her by. Before it reached the next corner she heard the driver order the horses to halt. He called out for her to come up to them, so she hurried to catch up — perhaps the Lord or Lady had returned early from their travels.
A voice called to her through the carriage window. "Has no one told you how impolite it is for a lady to travel without a companion?"
Charity froze. The door opened and a boy she used to know stepped out a man. His wiry frame had filled out below the brown hair that fell down upon his shoulders. His deep green eyes were the same as she remembered, mischievous and kind.
Charity realized she stood there staring and opened-mouthed. "Master James," she said with a curtsy.
James reached out his hand, and she hesitated for only a moment before accepting it. Instantly, she was transported to years earlier on a hot summer's night in the darkest corner of the stable, while his hands were frantically fumbling at her fastenings as she explored his skin. They had barely been old enough to recognize their desires, but that night they had realized them together.
"I was unaware that you..." Charity stopped and tried again. "The Lord and Lady are away on business."
James’ grin changed into something almost devilish. "I know. I sent word to them in London. I decided to enjoy my first few days free of schooling without them." He pulled her inside the carriage and settled her into the seat next to him before urging the driver forward. "I feel as though it's been forever since I last saw you, Charity."
"Seven years?" Charity said it like she was uncertain, but in fact, she already knew the answer — it had been seven long, lonely years for to James finish his studies and a two-year apprenticeship. He'd come back to visit, of course, but every time he did, she'd made herself scarce, first from timidity, and then from fear.
"Seven years,” he said. “Yes, that sounds correct. You've grown up nicely, too."
Charity felt her cheeks burn again. He'd always treated her like she was more than a servant. Ever since she was sent to the Collins' to work, frightened and alone, he was at first her playmate, and then something more.
"I see you’re just as verbose as I left you." When she didn't answer, James spoke in a softer voice: "I wanted to surprise you."
Charity wasn't sure how to respond. James had always made her long for things she had no business wanting. She was common-born and -bred, and that's all she was ever meant to be.
The carriage rolled over a bump and Charity grabbed the side, steadying herself and putting distance between them. James looked to her like he wanted to speak, or maybe he was waiting for her to respond. When she didn't, he looked out the window at the dark and foggy Buxton countryside. "It is good to be home."
****
Charity tucked a red, curly strand of hair back up into its fastening, smoothed her skirts and took a deep breath. James had instructed her to meet him in the dining room, and for all of her trying to explain that she had duties and responsibilities — helping prepare and serve his meal, for one — he wouldn't listen.
In her hurry and distracted by her thoughts, Charity didn't see the head housekeeper, Elizabeth, until she knocked into the woman. Elizabeth lunged backwards as if Charity had walked into her on purpose.
"I apologize," Charity mumbled.
Elizabeth glared at her. Even though she lived and worked in Collins Manor, she still carried a wisp of pig stench about her — an unfortunate side effect from when she visited her brother, and Charity's constantly unwanted suitor, George.
"I trust my brother is well?" Elizabeth asked, ignoring Charity's apology.
"He is, and he sends his regards." Charity tried to inch around the other woman without making it obvious. Ever since she could remember, Elizabeth had disliked her. She'd always tried to give her all the duties or make her do the worst chores. Charity had made the mistake of complaining about it to James once, and he had gone directly to his parents, demanding Charity be given only her fair share. Elizabeth was punished, and her reign of hatred against Charity took full effect. It didn’t help that Charity continued to refuse her brother’s advances — even though Elizabeth didn’t think Charity was good enough for the pig farmer, she seemed to take Charity’s repeated refusals as a personal assault.
Elizabeth moved to block Charity's path. "Your beauty won't last forever. Soon not even my brother will want you."
"Master James has asked for my presence," Charity whispered, wishing she could scream it instead.
Elizabeth glared at her for a moment before moving to one side. "I'm sure he did."
Charity timidly stepped inside the dining room, trying to forget the confrontation.
James looked very happy to see her. "Please, sit down."
"Sir, I don't mean to upset you, but I really am needed—"
"Charity, I told you to sit down." His tone and expression were at odds. One was dark and dangerous, while the other remained cheerful.
Before she could stop herself, Charity took a seat. Elizabeth entered and spared Charity the briefest of glares before serving James his meal silently.
"Thank you Mrs. Bishop," James said. "Also, I would like Charity to assist me for the next couple of days. She will be excused from house duties. Is that understood?"
If Elizabeth thought any of that was odd, she didn't let it show. She only nodded and left, returning long enough to serve Charity before leaving them alone.
"No comment, Charity?"
"What would you like me to say?"
"I don't think you would like my answer to that question. Not yet, anyway."
Charity sat stiff as a board i
n her chair. James made an exasperated noise. "Eat your dinner, Charity. I don't want to start an argument. While my parents are away I thought we could try and rekindle an old friendship."
The bite Charity had just taken nearly fell out of her mouth.
James continued. "We'll be like children again, and spend our time the way we want. What would you like to do first?" The question was almost as unexpected as its edge of vulnerability. She thought about how she might answer.
"I have a thought, although it may seem a little improper."
As she'd expected, he raised one eyebrow, instantly curious. "Do tell."
"I've always been curious about how to use a sword or operate a musket. I've never been allowed to do either, and it might be fun to try, perhaps." The idea was so ridiculous that she immediately regretted it.
To her surprise, his frown cleared as a new spark shone in his eyes. "I don’t see why not. We start tomorrow."
****
James whacked the branch against Charity’s bottom again. The sound through her dress was a dull thwap, but she felt the sting against her skin. The area tingled from the force of the strike. Charity found herself not jumping away, but hesitating, as if she wanted to be swatted again.
"You aren't moving fast enough." His voice was deep, huskier than it had been before.
"Your instruction is lacking." Charity centered her body and attempted to ignore the lovely ache at her backside. For the past few days while James had been her instructor, they'd fallen back into the familiar, teasing friendship that they'd always had together as kids.
"Lacking? My dear Charity, there is nothing about me that is lacking in any way." He lunged forward, brandishing is stick in such a way that Charity almost forgot the fight wasn't real. He circled around her with the grace of a predator.
"Deflect my blow, or you will be punished,” he said.
Charity smiled, but James didn't smile back. "I apologize, James. I didn't mean what I said."
He swung his branch once, splitting the air. "Deflect my blow, Charity, or you will be punished."
She shivered at his tone. Just as she was going to ask James if they could stop for the day, he lunged. She squealed and swung her stick wildly. Her foot caught against a root and she tumbled to the ground, not before connecting with his stick, snapping it in two. She fell down and laughed, but it died when she met his eyes.
"Take my hand," he said before pulling her to her feet.
"I did as instructed. I deflected."
"You panicked, shut your eyes, screamed, and fell on your arse." Charity let out a relieved sigh when he smiled.
"I'm sorry. I'll try harder next time."
"You will because I expect more out of you. If I am to be your teacher then my reputation is at stake. You do realize what this means?"
Charity knew all too well what reputation meant in her world. The stick suddenly felt too heavy in her hand. When James crouched down next to her, Charity fought the urge to look away. When he tenderly touched her chin, she tried not to flinch.
"It means there'll be no sweet biscuits today."
She managed a small smile. "What makes you think of biscuits?"
"At times like this, I can think of many things."
Charity felt a dull ache in her stomach. She leaned forward towards James, fighting against the desire to touch him and the shame that stopped her. His eyes fell from her face and Charity could only imagine what she must've looked like — the way her body wantonly arched towards him. He inhaled sharply and Charity crumpled under the humiliation.
Neither of them spoke for a moment. Then, James finally cleared his throat. "Perhaps we should continue." Charity kept her head down to hide her blush, but try as she might to ignore it, the ache refused to go away.
****
Charity exhaled, her breath drifted through the winter air like a stream of smoke. She held the musket as James had instructed. His arms were almost around her as he kept her hands in the correct position. His hips pressed close against hers from behind. His whispered breath was warm as it caressed her ear.
"Keep your eye on your target," he said. "Exhale before pulling the trigger and remember to always keep both eyes open."
Charity tried to pull her mind off of his body. She concentrated on the target, exhaled, and pulled the trigger. The target remained unaffected.
"That is your fifth miss," he said solemnly.
She dropped her arms and prepared to load the musket, again. Her arms were like lead from the weight of it, but she could not give up.
His hands covered hers, stilling them. "Did something change in how the manor is run while I was away? Are you not happy here? Do you think you will find yourself in a position with nothing, where you must defend your very livelihood?"
She hesitated, but only for a second. "Of course not."
"Then why are you doing this? What do you hope to accomplish?" He stepped back and pushed his hand through his long hair. "Why not just give this up?"
Charity gave her arms a moment to rest, but kept her eyes on the target. She imagined Elizabeth and then her brother, stifled by how inevitable it all felt. "Because it fades. There will come a time when I am not wanted here. What makes me welcome will fade." Her mind whispered for her to stop, but she felt the words flow out of her. "If you were in my place, would you stop or give up? I can't hope for many suitors, but I'll not allow myself to be helpless. My destiny will lie in my own hands, not in the hands of selfish men." Shame coursed through her, she wondered if she had now overstepped her place.
"Are all men's hands so selfish?"
The honesty in his voice surprised her. "How can I answer a question about all men? I haven't met every single one."
When he tilted his face towards her the intensity in his green eyes made her catch her breath. "What about my hands? Are they selfish?"
"Your hands are..." She couldn't find the right words. Memories of that warm night — his hands tugging at her clothing — flooded her mind. He'd been so eager, but kind as well. No one since had stirred such a passion in her as he had.
"What makes you wanted will never fade." His breath was hot now against her cheek. "And my hands are only selfish for you." His words warmed her in places that had felt cold for so long. When she clenched her fingers in his shirt, he reached around to press her against his body.
"Someone will see." Charity thought of Elizabeth, who was most likely peering through the kitchen window at that moment.
"I don't care. All of this is you trying to pull away. You always pull away from me," he said as his mouth covered hers.
At first, Charity was unsure of what to do. His lips were soft and warm, distracting her until she felt a sharp pain on her bottom lip where he bit her. When she cried out his tongue thrust past her lips and he wrapped his arms around her waist.
They were lost. Charity didn't care if the King himself happened upon them. She cared only of James and his lips against hers, his tongue exploring her mouth. Her hands bravely traveled to his neck where his muscles rippled, his harsh breath rasped as he exhaled. She threaded her fingers through his hair and yanked, crushing his lips to hers. His moan reverberated through his chest and filled her with power.
He broke away and gulped. As quickly as it had come, her sense of power vanished and was replaced with fear. "I'm sorry,” she said. “I shouldn't have done that."
"Charity..."
She smoothed her skirts and tucked back a stray hair. "We should go inside. It's getting cold and you mustn't catch a chill."
"Of course, go back inside where you can hide and forget everything that just happened."
"This was a mist—"
James pushed her back against a tree, his hands outstretched on either side of her head. "Do not say the world ‘mistake,’ or I will show you the consequences of it."
One of his legs separated hers, and where his body rubbed against hers, she ached for more. Charity felt a tingle at her core spasming with an anticipation she wo
uld not name.
James exhaled sharply and lifted one hand away from the tree to intertwine it with a strand of hair. "What is it about you that makes me feel barbaric?"
"James, do step back, please." She enunciated each word: "It was a mistake."
His eyes widened briefly before grasping her waist and lifting her up over his shoulder. She squealed in protest as he carried her behind the copse of trees and out of sight, pushing her on her back into the grass. Her body squirmed against his, first playfully and then with a purpose. She rubbed against him, felt his hardness press into her and wished they didn’t have so many layers of clothing between them.
James captured her mouth with his, and the damp, coolness of the grass against her back was barely a thought as he covered her with his body. He broke the kiss, leaning to the side while his hand rubbed against her center in a delicious circular motion. She moaned, and all the while he looked at her with bright eyes that flashed with desire. She burned where he touched her, and she bit her lip to keep from crying out.
"Don't bite your lip," he ordered. "I want to hear you moan." He removed his hand, ceasing the pressure, but not the ache.
Charity whimpered with the urge to beg him to return his hand.
James chuckled. "Patience, Charity." He pushed up her skirts until his cold hand stopped just above her knee. A small voice told her to tell him to stop, but she arched forward instead, leading him with her body. Slowly, he rubbed upwards leaving a trail of anticipation. When he finally got to her upper thigh she could hardly breathe. Charity thrust her hips forward, urging him higher — a few more inches were all she needed.
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