RuiningTheVicarsDaughterOnePassionTwiceTold

by Mary Alice Williamson

  “This is very large, Lord Audley. I don’t understand how it will fit.” She glanced his way and her eyes rounded. “You are quite large as well.”

  Adam tossed the silk sash onto the bolstered end of the chaise. “It’s nice to know I’m appreciated.” He grabbed himself and pumped his length to give her a show. “Imagine this moving in your passage, Patricia, or me thrusting into your mouth.”

  Though her cheeks were red, she didn’t take her gaze from his movements. Adam grunted, satisfied she wouldn’t bring out the servants by crying bloody murder. He took the phallus from her and dropped it in her lap. A groan escaped his lips as it nestled on the nest of blonde curls covering her sex.

  “I grow weary of conversation.” Under regular circumstances, he would have already brought his lover to her first orgasm by now. “Arms over your head and clasp your hands.”

  He moved to the back of the chaise and dropped to his knees. “Quickly, Patricia. I’d rather not spend on the carpet. It’s a bugger to clean.”

  Silent seconds went by. Finally, she followed instructions. “What do you intend to do?” Breathless curiosity accompanied the question.

  “Show you how the devil enjoys taking his pleasure.” He wrapped part of the length of silk around her shaking wrists before tying it off. Were her tremors from fear or anticipation? It didn’t matter since the results would be the same. “Let me amend that. At least one way he takes his pleasure. I’m certain you’d run from this house if you were to know more than that.” Why did it bother him how she’d think of him once their session was over? Adam stifled a scoff. Defiling one of God’s “chosen” must have him on edge.

  The other end of the silk he tied to one of the chaise’s legs. The bond wasn’t taut but it wasn’t loose enough that she’d squirm away. As he stood and came around to the side of the chaise, he couldn’t help the grin curving his mouth. He adored it when his lovers were subdued. It made the conquest that much sweeter—for them both. A part of him thrived on the power he gained when wielding instruments that made them writhe.

  And Miss Patricia Westing looked delectable. Her body arched to accommodate the position of her arms. With her wrists bound and resting at the top of the bolster, her firm breasts thrust upward, ripe and waiting for his attention. Tendrils of hair framed her shoulders and breasts. One of her legs had slipped off the chaise, and with her thighs splayed, her pussy beckoned. The blonde curls parted. Pink lips opened and bloomed, practically demanding he play.

  Need lanced through his shaft. He ignored the urgency. “Let’s get to it straightaway, shall we?”

  Patricia nodded. Her big-eyed gaze followed his every movement as he knelt beside the chaise near the middle of her body. “Will it hurt?”

  “Initially.” He had no cause to lie. She’d experience the truth. “But the pleasure will vastly outweigh any discomfort and you’ll forget all about it.” Adam picked up the toy. “Such a picture you make, Miss Westing. Such a naughty position for a vicar’s daughter.” He drew the phallus along the soft swell of her stomach.

  She gasped. Her arms strained, but the bonds held. “I cannot help what I am.”

  “Neither can I.” Adam slid the leather toy down the curve of one hip then glided it over her thigh. Goose flesh followed in its wake. “In case you were wondering, it’s natural to feel desire and lust.” He eased the tool between her legs. “It’s natural to crave sexual satisfaction.”

  “But I’ve always been taught it’s wrong when love and marriage aren’t involved.” She wiggled her hips, which moved the toy more snugly against her cunt.

  “Knowing the ways of the church, I’ll even wager you’ve been taught ladies shouldn’t enjoy sex even if they are married.”

  “Yes.” The word dissipated in a breathless push.

  “Then you’ve been listening to the wrong teachers.” When he rubbed the tip against her button, a strangled moan issued from her. She spread her thighs wider.

  Oh, she was desperate, but not quite enough. He wanted her panting and begging him to end the torment. “This devil is going to give you a taste of hellfire.”

  He ran the tip of the phallus along her folds. She wasn’t wet enough. “Poor thing. It would seem you’re not properly aroused. How careless of me.” Adam grabbed the bottle of olive oil. “We’ll rectify that in a twinkling.” He put the cork between his lips, tugged then spit it away.

  “What is the oil for?” Curiosity lit her expression.

  “To help the toy slide in now, and me later.” He poured a measure into his left palm then put the bottle down and, seconds later, coated the phallus with the viscous substance. “You’re understandably nervous, which prevents your juices from flowing naturally. By the time I’m finished here, your thighs will be sticky with cream.”

  The thought of lapping the juices from her skin sent an intense pulse through his cock. He pumped himself with his left hand while putting the tip of the phallus at her opening with his right. “Gird your loins, my dear.”

  Some of the urgency left his shaft while he concentrated on her. Adam grinned as he circled her hole with slow strokes. He dipped the end of the toy into her passage—teasing, testing—then withdrew it only to repeat the action.

  Patricia’s thighs trembled. She tugged on her bonds. Her breasts quivered. She was a woman near breaking and very near being ruined. He grinned, and they’d only just started.

  God, I love being a rogue.

  He pressed a kiss to her stomach. Her skin smelled of rosewater. She squeaked and squirmed then relaxed. When he traced her navel with his tongue, he thrust the toy into her passage, broke past her maidenhead and buried the leather phallus deep until its balls hit flush to her flesh. Adam lifted his hand in order to monitor her reaction.

  Patricia whimpered. She bit her bottom lip. A wash of tears sparkled in her eyes.

  He smoothed his free hand over her abdomen. “Shall I continue?”

  As if he’d stop at this point even if she did decline. Once a woman agreed to enter his lair, they were well and truly caught. He didn’t care one way or the other that stealing her virginity might have hurt her. He wanted the animalistic intensity of the joining—the game. She shouldn’t have responded if she feared it… except fucking a woman while she was in tears dampened the moment. “Patricia?”

  She wriggled her hips and nodded. “Yes, please.”

  The proper request ignited the lust that had been building since he’d first set hands on her. He withdrew the phallus toy from her pussy only to guide it back in. The rigid girth slid in more easily this time, and she accepted it without complaint. “How does this make you feel, Miss Westing?” Usually his women were skilled in guiding his touch, both with their hands and verbal orders. With Patricia being restrained and sans experience, this was a problem.

  “It’s tight, and there’s a feeling of fullness.” Her hips moved again and edged the leather deeper into her passage. She sighed. “But it’s lovely. Should there be something momentous about this, aside from no longer being a virgin?”

  He raised an eyebrow at her cheekiness. “You should be well on your way to feeling wonderful, or at least wanting to come undone.” Damnation. He’d need to work hard for this one. “No matter. I have more tricks.”

  While he continued to plunder her passage with the phallus, he parted her pussy lips with his free hand and bent, placing his mouth on her sex. A cry broke from Patricia’s mouth.

  Ah, better.

  Situated as he was with his head turned away, he couldn’t watch her expression. No matter. Other than observing a woman as he pleasured her, he quite enjoyed listening.

  He licked her wet pussy and savored the subtle tang of her mixed with faint fruitiness olive oil. There was nothing like the taste of a woman’s cunt. Her nub had swelled with her arousal. He teased it with his tongue. Constantly circling the bundle of nerves, he moved the leather toy in and out of her passage with varying degrees of speed.

  She bucked her hips, which only serv
ed to put him in a better position. He flicked his tongue over and around that button, never allowing her a break. As his thrusts with the toy slowed, he sucked her bud into his mouth then released. Each time, he’d move the phallus into her passage before repeating the torment. Her whimpers grew into desperate moans that blended with the wet sounds of her juices lubricating the leather.

  Adam worked her flesh, willing her to experience that first orgasm. One untried vicar’s daughter would not best him—the man who bragged he could send any woman flying. He nibbled her button. Patricia bucked again, but though her breathing had become labored and her murmured cries increased, she didn’t succumb to bliss.

  He left off for a moment and turned his head to peer at her. Patricia’s eyes were closed. Her jaw hung slightly slack, and an expression of pure delight lit her face. She was so close. What would she look like when she completely lost control?

  His cock tightened to the point of being unbearable. He’d ignored his own urges for too long. Soon, he’d explode, but not until he’d made her do so, dammit all. He withdrew the leather toy and tossed it away.

  Stubborn woman. Would she not relax enough to gain that all important pinnacle? The urge to see her locked in orgasm became his overriding goal.

  “We’re moving to the next wicked lesson.” As her eyes flew open and she murmured a protest, he straddled the chaise. He scooted up, lifted her legs and encouraged them around his waist so that his cock head flirted with her wet opening.

  “What—?”

  He cut off her question by leaning forward and claiming her mouth in a savage kiss. Not waiting for her to acclimate to him, he probed the seam of her lips with his tongue then forced his way in when she opened a tiny bit. The satin warmth of her tongue against his fired his need.

  Patricia shook her head and broke the kiss. She strained against the bonds. Her erect nipples scraped against his chest. Acute sensation raced through his body to further tighten his aching cock.

  “What?” Beyond exasperated at his inability to finish this one woman, he slipped a hand to her nubbin again, only this time he refused to stop the torment until she came to that first release.

  She ran her tongue over her lips. “This taste, is it… me from when you had your mouth on me?”

  “Yes.” He strummed his fingers along her slick folds. “Are you disgusted by it?”

  “No. It makes me feel naughty.” The mischievous light in her eyes nearly shattered his self-control. “Do you taste the same?”

  Bullocks. While this would be a brilliant time to teach her the finer points of pleasuring a man orally, especially while she was restrained, he wouldn’t last, and when he shot his seed, he damn well wanted to do it while enjoying the traditional fuck. If nothing else, he wanted her to experience that.

  Instead, he inserted his forefinger into her channel, collected her cream and then brought it to her mouth, tracing her bottom lip with her juices. “That is for another session.”

  When she tentatively licked at the moisture, need exploded through his belly. Watching her enjoy it was perhaps the most erotic scene he’d ever witnessed. Adam slipped his hand to a breast. He rolled the pebbled tip between his thumb and forefinger. When her body arched into his, his cock slid partially into her drenched pussy. A certain ambivalence washed over him. “It’s too bloody bad we only have this one moment together. I suspect you and I could have brilliant fun.” How was it possible this God-fearing innocent could make him want to keep her locked in his library if only to spend days teaching her everything he knew about carnal pleasure merely to discover how she took to it?

  “It is still raining, Lord Audley.” She tilted her hips and tightened her ankles around his waist, which perfectly nestled his member deep within her heat. Her eyes rolled a bit back in her head. The tendons in her slender neck worked with a heavy swallow. He could only imagine what he felt like to her. “It’s entirely possible I could be here all afternoon before it lets up.”

  He stared at her while shock gripped him. This flirtatious woman couldn’t possibly be the same vicar’s daughter he’d charmed out of her clothes or watched, shaking and naked, as she’d waited for her fate. A strong pulse from his cock brought him back to the moment. He’d take whatever she offered for as long as she was willing. “You’re absolutely correct, Miss Westing. Terrible weather we’re having right now.”

  Then the needs of his body took over. Adam shot to his feet, gripped her hips and thrust fully into her. A rush of sensation washed up his cock. He groaned as pure bliss ebbed through him. Fuck, she was tight. The walls of her pussy hugged him so greatly he nearly lost control, but he gritted his teeth and pushed past the urge. He pulled fully out if only to experience the intense friction of shoving back inside again.

  A frantic rhythm gripped him as he pumped. Each movement swamped him with sensation. The tingling in his shaft meant he wouldn’t last, but damn, he wasn’t willing to end it yet. With a grunt, he paused and encouraged her to put her legs straight up in the air. Adam kept a tight hold on her knees while plunging back into her wet heat.

  Each thrust sent him deeper. Each push rocked his body against hers. Patricia’s breasts bounced and swayed. Her keening cries stoked his need higher and urged him onward.

  She tugged on her restraints, harder with each flesh-smacking connection. Seconds later her body jerked. “Oh, oh, Lord Audley!” She arched against him and his name faded beneath a mixture of a sigh and a moan.

  Hearing his title between her panting gasps, Adam lost control the moment her pussy contracted around his cock. Knowing she’d enjoyed the act brought another level of intensity to his release. His heartbeat thundered through his veins to pound at his temples. He thrust through the pulsing flutters as his member twitched in the last throes of orgasm. Rocking his pelvis against hers while the intense waves ebbed, he groaned before finally allowing her legs to slide down his sides.

  He sat heavily onto the chaise while his breathing regulated. “And that, my dear Miss Westing, is introductory intercourse.”

  A weary smile curved her lips. Her eyes fluttered open and she regarded him with a tired expression. “If this is what being ruined truly is, I fail to see why it’s so frowned upon.” Her thighs trembled as she shifted her body to straddle the chaise, much as he did except she still reclined. “Will you untie me or will I need the restraints for your next lesson?”

  Adam’s laugh was a bit on the tattered side. He couldn’t believe how voraciously she craved a new joining. “You’ve become quite naughty during your visit.” He stood, came around to the front of the chaise and retrieved his damp breeches. “It suits you.” With her soft eyes, mussed hair and flushed cheeks, she hardly resembled the same woman who’d come to bring a lecture upon his head.

  After he struggled into the clothing, he released her hands. Patricia massaged her chafed wrists but her smile was brilliant. He might indeed be the devil they said, for he wouldn’t allow Patricia out of his house until he’d thoroughly ruined her a couple more times. “Since it’s still pouring, allow me to order tea, and once we’ve both recovered perhaps we’ll have another go. Next time, I’ll want you on your knees.”

  The End

  ****

  Ruining the Vicar’s Daughter— The Introduction

  July 1818, Derbyshire

  Patricia Westing watched Baron Audley from beneath her lashes. Her limbs trembled as she devoured his form with her gaze. Had it only been an hour ago that he’d used his powerful body to bring such pleasure to hers? Though he’d donned his breeches, the outline of his half-erect cock was clearly visible. Heat raced over her skin and her pussy pulsed in remembrance of his length filling her. Only this morning, referring to such private parts by their coarser names would have sent hot shame over her. But now, after sharing what she had with the devil himself, she thought it was fitting that she think as vulgar as she’d acted.

  The rumors about him were apparently true, but now, she didn’t want to lecture him. Oh, he was as ba
d as the tabbies whispered, yet how could a man who gave her such exquisite bliss be a villain?

  She resettled a black velvet cape around her body. He’d given her the garment to cover herself since the clothes she’d worn into his home were still wet from the pouring rain. The red satin lining glided over her skin like water and further heightened her lingering arousal. She easily imagined him wearing the garment to Vauxhall or Covent Garden in London. The fabric smelled of him, her unexpected lover. Hints of apples, oak and tobacco clung to it.

  A thrill raced down her spine. What did he smell like now that they’d indulged in intercourse? Her lips curved in a slow smile. She sipped at her second cup of tea and savored the warmth as it slid down her throat. How wonderful the fall from grace had been.

  “Do you regret what we shared, Miss Westing?” The baron’s baritone voice cut through her musings and her nipples tightened just from hearing him.

  “Not at all. I’d say instead, I came alive. You introduced me to a new life.” Amazing. I don’t fear the wrath of God for my immortal soul as much as the ire of my father if he finds out what I’ve done. “My father will probably send me to a convent or order me to permanently remain in America upon hearing the news.”

  One of the baron’s black eyebrows rose. He dropped a sugar cube into his fresh cup of tea and swirled a silver teaspoon through the amber liquid with all the languid, careless grace the devil could be expected to have. “There’s no law that requires you to confess. It can be our little secret.”

  “I rather think it should.”

  “Ah, then you are ashamed of what we’ve done.” He tapped the spoon on the rim of the cup, laid the silverware on the saucer and then raised the delicate porcelain to his lips, his brown eyes lit with an intense light.

  “No.” She took another sip. “I want to treasure our joining, keep it within my heart and not share it. I’d rather not have the experience tainted with prejudice and narrow-minded viewpoints.” The memories she’d made with him, the sensations she’d experienced from his hands and mouth, would be hers alone to bring out and savor during first her voyage to America and later to Africa. It had been her decision to become a woman in every sense of the word, and one she’d not regret.