by Unknown
She gaped and shook her head.
“I swear it. Even the Master of the Hunt commented on these lines at last year’s breakfast when his wife simpered under the avalanche of Louis’ compliments.”
“I can’t believe it true.” A knot of emotion blocked her throat.”Always he threw it at me.”
“Believe me. Louis made the mistake of telling Simon De Malmanche, a known gossip. He said that of all the women he had, none had ever bore a child. He couldn’t have told a worst person. Perhaps he was in his cups at the time, possibly riven with remorse, but for whatever reason we men always assumed he womanised in an effort to prove his masculinity.”
Archie stroked her hair. She shivered. He rubbed her back
“You never had word that Louis produced a bastard or two, for all his dalliances, did you?”
“No.”
“What more proof do you want?”
Her world shifted. The guilt she’d carried sloughed off her back. She risked a wry smile. “Real proof would be to get pregnant – to you.”
“Can I be excused for the rest of the day Ma’am? I’m a little spent.” He covered her lips again, soothing her racing heart. As they parted for air he added, “I’ll be fine by the morrow,” and stroked her thigh.
“But I may be too sore.” She chuckled.
“Then I will need to have a softer touch.”
They dressed, between playful touches, then went out to the stables. The stallion stood by the gate. The young mare leaned against his wither, possibly thinking she had a mate. Archie tethered his horse in another stable, feeding him chaff and rubbing his coat with straw, talking to the animal in soothing tones. Most of it being high praise Abigail noted.
She grasped the mare’s halter and led her out to the paddock to join the other mares, her reason for being yarded no longer viable. Perhaps her next foal could be by the black stallion. She loved her horses. One of the reasons she’d hung onto the property was her not wanting to part with their friendship. They’d always been there, powerful, intelligent and loyal, all the things Louis hadn’t been.
****
By the time the staff returned, with poor old Bess trudging up the drive with the overloaded buggy, Abigail and Archie were sitting primly in the conservatory. She’d found small cakes in the pantry and hoped Cook hadn’t planned to use them for tonight’s dessert. Archie had practically inhaled six of them and even now his hand wandered toward taking another. She slapped it. “Stop, Archie. Enough.”
“I’m famished. I arrived without breakfast, missed lunch wooing you and now you are refusing me sustenance. You’re a cruel woman.” His twinkling eyes refuted his words. He ran his hand along her leg and despite the folds of her skirt managed to find her inner thigh. As enjoyable as it was she frowned.
“You should move to over there.” She pointed to another chair. “The staff will be here any minute. I can hear their voices.” She turned to look through the glass wall. “Look, the young groom is leading Bess to the stables.”
A polite cough heralded the arrival of her head gardener. Cap in hand he ducked his head in greeting.
“Ma’am, Sir, we are all returned.” So formal, his arm in a sling and a flush on his cheeks, no doubt brought on by a few ales for the pain.
“And you Hyde? How is your arm? Did you see the physician?”
“I did, Ma’am. He said ’tis my collar bone and praised Lord St. John for his swift action. It could have been much worse.” The man shuffled, possibly embarrassed at having to say so much. Never one to use one word more than was required. “I should be back on full work shortly, Ma’am.”
“Heavens Hyde, you are not to worry. You can use the apprentices and refrain from the heavy work.”
“Thank you Ma’am.” Bowing again, he left.
“I can send one of my men over, if it will help,” Archie offered.
She met his gaze, desperate to stroke his face, but clasped her hands together. Aware of her household staff now moving through the house she responded as required. “Thank you Lord St. John, a kindly offer.”
The silence grew. The air fairly crackled with their restrained desire. “May I escort you to the stables, Lord St. John? So kind of you to keep me company while my staff was away.”
“My pleasure, Lady Abigail. May I call for luncheon tomorrow?” He picked up her hand, turned it over and kissed the palm. “I desire to continue our conversation.”
Her heat tingled all over again.
Life with Archie promised to be fun.
About the Author:
When Virginnia De Parte isn’t busy dreaming up plots for her next erotic romp she is writing futuristic romances spiced with adventure and a touch of Sci.Fi.
Creating fiction has given her an outlet for her vivid imagination. She belongs to several writing groups and is a strong supporter of authors having critique partners and beta readers to check their work.
Virginnia also writes Young Adult and loves the challenge of writing short fiction and poetry. She lives in New Zealand along with 4 million people and a number of elusive hobbits.
She can be found and followed on these sites:
Website | Blog | Facebook
Oustide the Box
By Allyson Lindt
“Come on, we’ll have a blast.”
Jonathan’s promise echoed in my mind as I wove my way through the airport terminal. The clack of my heels on the linoleum echoed through the empty corridor. The occasional person occupied a seat near a gate, but I doubted there were more than twenty people in the entire wing.
I tugged my laptop bag tighter onto my shoulder, not caring at this late hour whether or not I wrinkled my jacket. If I had my choice I’d be in jeans and a T-shirt now, instead of blouse and skirt. However, I’d been delayed at work so long I’d had to push my flight back to the latest they had, and hadn’t had time to go home and change.
Not that it mattered what I was wearing or how battered it got. We wouldn’t touch down in in San Francisco until two am. At that hour, not many people were going to notice my wrinkled clothing, any more than they’d notice if I’d put on a bright orange safety vest.
“Imagine how much fun we’ll have.” Jonathan wrapped his arms around my waist. “San Francisco on the company’s dime. How can you find a problem with that?”
I leaned back into his embrace. “It’s a marketing convention. I’m a database programmer.”
The memories taunted me. Whoever said office affairs are a bad idea was 100% right. I handed my boarding pass to the attendant and made my way down the ramp, shivering as a gust of wind whistled through the cracks. I offered a polite smile to the woman greeting passengers, stowed my laptop in an overhead bin, and found my seat. I settled back into the overstuffed chair, At least I’d gotten a free first class upgrade for agreeing to take a red-eye flight, instead of trying to cram onto a commuter flight first thing in the morning.
“You write databases for marketing people. Think of this as an excuse to learn how the rest of us think.” Jonathan nuzzled the back of my neck with his lips.
“You don’t think. That’s the problem.” My will to argue was evaporating with every touch.
“Come on. You and me, the company picking up the check, all expenses paid, three days in San Francisco…” His breath fell across my ear.
“And all I have to do is listen to some Tony Curtis wannabe drone on all day.” The fight was gone from my voice. I knew I was going to give in.
“Exactly. That’s not too big a deal, right?”
Not too big a deal, the phrase taunted me. It turned out the big deal was my now-ex-boyfriend getting caught—and fired for—nailing the company president’s wife. But I’d made such a great case for why I needed to attend this thing, backing out hadn’t been an option.
I was tempted to find some random guy to hook up with just to show Jonathan how not-necessary he was on this trip, and in my life. I’d flirt with a random stranger in the hotel bar, one thing would lead to ano
ther, and we’d have an amazing, sleepless night. The next morning we’d part ways, and I’d be able to smirk every time I saw Jonathan at the office, knowing it had been better without him there.
Only problem with my impromptu plan was things like that never happened to me, and I certainly wasn’t bold enough to initiate that kind of evening.
I didn’t need Jonathan anyway. I pulled my e-reader from my purse, and dragged up the steamiest cover I could find from my to-read list. I’d let a fictional hottie keep me company, and fill my head with naughty fantasy.
“Excuse me.” A smooth tenor interrupted my attempt to lose myself in the explicit words. “I think that’s my seat.”
I sighed, resisting the urge to ask the asshole why he didn’t just go find another seat. There had to be fifty empty on the plane. My complaints evaporated when I looked up into the most stunning brown eyes I’d seen in… ever possibly. He gave me a crooked smile, and I couldn’t help return the expression. Holy-wowness he was hot. I definitely wasn’t telling him to sit somewhere else.
“I’m sorry.” I scrambled to my feet, tripping over them in my rush to get out of his way.
“Don’t worry about it.” He ran his fingers through spikes of brown hair.
I couldn’t help but draw in a lungful of his cologne when he passed. It wasn’t strong enough to be overpowering. Instead the faint musk was just enough to bring my senses to life when he brushed passed me, then dropped into the window seat.
I collapsed in my own chair again, and smoothed out my skirt. I shouldn’t care what this random guy thought of my appearance, but his voice had drilled into my head, and was about to become the hero’s in my book. At least, it would be if I could stop stealing glances at my seat-neighbor long enough to read.
“I’m Jonathan.” He extended his hand in greeting.
My thumping heart ground to a halt, sliding on the name and crashing into my ribcage. Why did he have to have the exact same name as my ex-boyfriend? Not something similar, no, he couldn’t have been a Jon, or a Jake. He had to be Jonathan.
When I shook his hand, his firm, secure grip chased away the unpleasant memories his name summoned. It wasn’t his fault he wasn’t a Jon or a Jake. “Celeste,” I said.
“Nice to meet you.” His crooked grin returned. God, that was a sexy smile. The way his gaze raked over me sent pleasant shivers down my spine. That his grip lingered longer than needed didn’t hurt either.
The speakers in the aircraft crackled to life, and I realized I was staring. Heat flooded my face, and I tried to be polite about pulling away. “Enjoy the flight.” Wow, that was weak. Nope, I’d definitely never pick up a random stranger in a bar with an approach like that.
“I have a feeling it’s going to be better than I expected.” Something confident and strong in his tone made me look up again. He winked. His phone buzzed, and he gave me a shrug before answering.
I used the excuse to turn away. In an attempt not to eavesdrop, I focused on the flight attendant instructing me in the proper use of my seatbelt, where the emergency exits were, and how to use my oxygen mask. Not that my row-mate’s half of the conversation was worth listening to. Except even the way he barked out last minute orders to who I assumed was someone back at the office was seductive. His tone wasn’t ever cruel, but it also left no room for argument.
He hung up before the plane began its taxi down the runway, and our conversation appeared to be over.
Needing someplace to focus that didn’t involve drooling over a guy I didn’t know, I turned my attention back to my book as soon as I had the go-ahead to retrieve it. The story started off hot, with a sexy phone conversation between the hero and heroine quickly turning into something more physical on her part. A warmth spread between my legs as the racy scene progressed. I chewed on my bottom lip as the heroine neared climax.
“You know that’s not physically possible.” Jonathan’s smooth voice startled me.
I tried to keep a neutral expression in place, but my pulse was still racing from the scene. “What isn’t?”
“What she’s doing.” He nodded at the e-reader. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have been reading over your shoulder. But I had to know what had you so captivated, so I could figure out if I could top it.”
It didn’t matter how the conversation went from here, I’d definitely be picturing this guy in the hero’s place in the book once I went back to reading. Or maybe I could put the book aside. A new flare of boldness raced through me. A little light flirting wouldn’t hurt, right? It wasn’t like I’d ever see this guy again. I didn’t expect I’d get my revenge on my ex this way, but I could still have some fun. “What did you figure out, as far as topping it was concerned?”
I hid my wince at my choice of words as the innuendo bounced in my brain. Maybe I should have phrased that differently.
“I’m pretty sure we’d get caught if we stayed in our seats, though it might work better with you on top.” He chuckled and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m sorry, that was too much, wasn’t it?”
It definitely was. And if I wasn’t already fantasizing about him, I’d probably want to slap him. Especially since he didn’t sound very sorry. I wasn’t about to bring the conversation to a halt though. I summoned a strong dose of go-for-it, and leaned in on the arm of my chair, bringing me closer. “Depends on if you meant it or not.”
His gaze raked over my face, as if he was searching for permission. “I do now.” He nodded at the e-reader I’d stuffed aside. “It’s still not possible, though.”
He had to mean the scene I’d just been reading. My desire to be right mingled with the fun I was having, and pushed aside any of my remaining embarrassment at my own boldness. “I beg to differ. It is very possible.”
Damn that cocky smile. “And you would know this how?”
I knew it because I’d done it on a dare. My ex-boyfriend told me to give it a shot and made me promise details the next time I saw him. Few things get the blood racing faster than fingering oneself while driving at top speed down the interstate.
“You’ve tried it?” His look was a combination of shock and amusement. “Wasn’t that dangerous?”
“I’m sure it was. I wasn’t focused on that at the time.” I couldn’t believe I’d just admitted that.
“Seems like it would be safer on oh, say, a plane.” He winked at me.
Electricity prickled my skin. There was a difference between a random fling in a hotel, and getting off at thirty-thousand feet. Sure, there was a reason the phrase ‘mile-high club’ existed, but I wasn’t feeling quite bold enough for that kind of risk. “There’s more of a chance of getting caught. That doesn’t spell safe to me.”
He shrugged. “Maybe, maybe not. Think about it. The lights are dimmed, there’s no one else in first class, and the flight attendants are in coach serving drinks. You’re wearing a skirt. You’d just have to drop your tray table…”
Was he really suggesting I play with myself in the middle of the flight? A tiny voice in the back of my mind asked why I didn’t slap this man and move to another seat. A much louder voice pointed out he was sexy as fuck and I was already wet from a combination of the book and the banter with him.
“I suppose you’ve got a point.” I tried to keep my tone casual.
“So don’t let me stop you.”
He was really daring me to do this? I debated for only a moment. Slap him for his audacity or one-up him? “I will if you will.” I couldn’t believe I’d just said that. He’d balk, though, right? I mean, I wasn’t putting on a show for this guy if he wasn’t going to enjoy it.
Wait, what was I thinking? Now that the idea was in my head, it wouldn’t leave. I really did like the idea of fingering myself under that table, him being in on the naughty secret of what I was doing, and knowing he was getting off too. That idea alone was enough to make my pulse race.
He didn’t flinch. Eyes never leaving mine, he flipped the latch on his tray table and let it drop. He leaned over, and his hot
breath brushed my ear when he whispered, “Deal.”
My heart almost screamed through my ribs. He was serious. What had I just gotten myself into? The telltale sound of his zipper told me this wasn’t a bluff. He lowered my table as well, then moved his hand to rest on mine. He paused, watching me. Maybe he was waiting for me to pull away, but I liked the idea too much to stop him. I gave him a brief nod. He moved our palms to the hem of my skirt, his commanding voice leaving no room for argument. “It’s not fair if we don’t both do it.”
He used my own fingers to push up my skirt, and I didn’t resist. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw his other hand slowly pumping. When he spoke again, his warm breath fell over my ear. “I bet you’re already wet from that scene you were just reading.”
The almost visible tension between the two of us had more to do with it. My hand slid up the inside of my leg, and I let out a tiny whimper when I brushed the outside of my warm mound. Next to me, I heard his light chuckle fade into a moan.
“Lucky for me you’re wearing a skirt.” His tenor had turned gravelly.
I no longer regretted not having time to change before the airport. “Lucky’s a good word for it.” My voice came out in a breathy rasp.
“Hmm…” The rhythmic movement of his arm caused the seats to rock. “How wet are you?”
The hard nubs that were my nipples strained against the satin of my bra, begging for attention, but my racing heart wasn’t that bold. I pushed the crotch of my panties aside, dipped my fingers between my folds, and inhaled sharply at my own light touch. “Very.”
“Shove two fingers inside yourself.”
Each time he issued a new order, the need between my thighs throbbed harder. I did as he commanded, and my back arched at the self-penetration. My hips thrust against my hand in rhythm with his pumping, my digits sliding easily in and out of my well-lubricated hole. The sensation combined with the rush of doing this in public drove me wild, but I wouldn’t be able to climax this way. My throbbing button begged for attention.