Miss Foster’s Folly

by Alice Gaines

  She bent slowly and gathered up her petticoat, giving him a view of her stockings and garters. Then, her thighs and her hips. She slid her hands into the waistband of her drawers and pushed them down, giving him the briefest glimpses of the curling hairs over her sex, before she’d pushed the fabric to her ankles. She deftly removed her feet from the tangle of cloth and kicked it aside.

  “You should have put that with your other clothes,” he said. “You’ll take a few extra lashes of my palm for that.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Remarkable. A few minutes earlier, she’d glared at him, full of fire and fury. She’d probably go right back to wanting to flay him alive the moment after the glow from her orgasm had died down. Right now, she pretended to obey his every command. It made a heady combination, as if he could have two women at once, each with a lush body hungry for his touch.

  He patted his knee. “Come here and bend yourself over my lap.”

  She walked toward him, her eyes downcast. When she reached him, he helped her to lower herself, placing her hands against the floor to hold her head up while her arse rested across his thighs.

  Too many damned layers of cloth hid her from his view—petticoat and chemise—but after some work, he had them gathered up in his fist and spread them across her back.

  He gazed at her buttocks, and a groan of appreciation escaped from his chest. Soft, firm, round. Strawberries-and-cream skin. The woman had the most beautiful buttocks in the entire Empire and the United States combined. He savored them with his palm. “What a shame to have to strike these, but you must learn your lesson.”

  “Don’t hit me, please. I’ll be good.” The breathless quality of her voice said the exact opposite. Besides, if Juliet Foster didn’t want to do something, she simply didn’t do it. She’d spit in your eye and tell you to go to hell before she’d submit to anything she didn’t like.

  “It pains me to have to do this.” He brought his hand up and then slapped her soundly with it.

  She let out a little yip of surprise and then an ahhh of approval.

  He smacked her again on the other buttock. “It’s for your own good.”

  “Please, sir. Don’t do that anymore. It hurts.”

  Again, the exact opposite of what she truly wanted. He brought his palm down on her a few more times. Her skin started to color, just a slight flush. A delicious pink. In his mind’s eye, he could picture her, bent and spread open for him as he entered her from behind, the livid color of his cock darker than her flesh.

  When he slapped her again, she squirmed, and her hip rubbed against his pelvis, stroking his stiff member through his pants. “You did that on purpose, you naughty thing. I’ll have to hit you harder.”

  “Please, no, sir,” she whimpered. “I can’t hold still when you hit me. It’s too much.”

  “But you shall.” He swatted her again, one sharp blow to each buttock, and now, she writhed, signaling her mounting excitement. Each time she bumped against his cock, he gritted his teeth for control. The more he spanked her, the more she moved, the more she rubbed him, until both of them neared the limits of their control.

  The sounds of his palm hitting her flesh and her answering cries filled his ears as he kept spanking her. Now, her legs parted, giving him a view of the lips between them. Swollen and pouting, they begged for his touch, so he stroked them slowly, brushing back and forth.

  She went rigid, arching her back. “Not there. Please. Don’t touch me there.”

  “Wicked little cunny. See how wet it is.” He plunged a finger inside her, removed it, and added a second. Her nectar spilled into his hand as he probed her.

  “I’ll swoon,” she cried. “No more. I can’t bear it.”

  “Take your punishment.” He pulled his fingers from her sheath and rubbed the moisture over her bud. Already hard, it was easy to find, so he made circular motions over the tip.

  She’d stopped talking in words, and instead communicated in moans and gasps of pleasure. She couldn’t take much more without spending, but the devil in him kept him dipping into her wet folds and spreading the cream onto her pearl.

  In the end, he had to stop before he spilled his lust into his trousers. He helped her off him and rose, supporting her with his arm. “Bend over the table. Quick.”

  She nodded, and he helped her there. She rested her upper body on the surface and clutched the sides. It took only an instant to pull her clothing up and spread it over her, exposing her nether parts. Unbuttoning his pants was another matter. His fingers seemed to do nothing more than rub against his hardness. Finally, after supreme effort, he had his pants open and could reach in to free his cock. Then, he took his position between her parted legs and drove himself home.

  She cried out when he entered her and then stuffed a knuckle into her mouth to stifle her voice. He’d have to do something like that to stop from roaring with each thrust. Her moisture bathed his rod as he thrust, burying himself inside her wetness.

  Every time with this woman offered new delights. And this…this…was so bloody good. Already, his balls felt tight, and the climax coiled at the base of his spine. His hips moved on their own, making savage movements that slammed his cock into her. He wouldn’t last, wouldn’t last, wouldn’t last.

  Desperate to feel her come, he pulled her against him and bent to encircle her with his arms. He had to push aside numerous layers of fabric before he could burrow his fingers into the hairs over her pussy. When he’d managed, he parted the lips and found her pearl. Rubbing her furiously, he continued thrusting into her sex until he thought he’d die if he couldn’t come now!

  She saved him, as she always did. Even muffled, her cries rose to the ceiling as her spasms started. Deep inside her and then traveling the length of his cock. He joined her, his cock erupting as his essence shot out of him to mingle with her juices. For a moment, he lost consciousness of everything but her sex and how it gripped his as they spent together. Pleasure so intense, it bordered on pain. Joy beyond endurance. Too sweet to be denied.

  In the end, he rested himself on top of her and breathed in the scent of her hair. As his member softened inside her, he could only moan into her ear.

  “I’m still going to kill you, you know,” she whispered.

  “I don’t doubt it. You’re likely to frig me to death.”

  “On the other hand, I may keep you for a while.” She sighed happily. “You are good for some things.”

  “Wench.” He kissed her earlobe. “Come back to the manor with me.”

  “All right.”

  ***

  Juliet’s rear still felt warm from the contact with Derrington’s hand. Impossible, as he hadn’t hit her hard at all. The feeling was more like an afterglow from the intense pleasure of his love-slaps, alternating with his delicious attentions to her sex. Now, she sat astride his horse with the man himself snug behind her. Not a cushioned carriage seat, but a saddle. Worse, she’d had to spread her legs around the animal’s back, bringing all of her sensitive parts into contact with firm leather. This was going to be a very long ride back to the manor.

  “You’re not wearing Harry’s ruby,” he said from behind her.

  “I gave it back to her.”

  He sighed. “Why do you have to be so obstinate?”

  “Why don’t you find a more suitable woman to marry?”

  “Would a suitable woman have stuck her bum up into the air and allow me to paddle it?”

  “How would I know what suitable women do?” she answered.

  “She wouldn’t have done that, I promise you.”

  She glanced at him over her shoulder. “You’ve made a survey of women on the subject?”

  “Both here and in your country,” he answered. “No one would suit me but you. You’re my mate, whether you like it or not.”

  She settled back against him. His continuing insistence that they belonged together shouldn’t have become more and more appealing with every passing day. He still held her captive. She’d ma
de a try for freedom, and he’d snatched her back. He’d even lied to the innkeeper, telling the man that she was crazy. He was underhanded and overbearing, and the mere fact that he could make her body demand his shouldn’t cloud her good sense the rest of the time.

  The problem was, there was very little rest of the time. She dreamed of him at night and spun fantasies of him in her mind during the day. Now, with the memory of his hand imprinted on her buttocks and the lips of her sex registering every rolling motion of the horse between her legs, nothing in the world seemed more wonderful—more necessary for her happiness—than the man whose arms curled around her to hold the reins.

  She closed her eyes to savor the warmth at her back, the sun beating down on her face, the green smell of the fields around them, and the gentle rocking of the horse’s gait.

  The beast lurched ever so slightly. Nothing violent. Probably no more than stepping into a rut in the road. But it tossed her forward against the saddle, pressing into that extra-sensitive spot at the apex of her thighs. She straightened abruptly at the shock.

  “Something wrong?” Derrington said.

  “No, I…” She swallowed. “I’ve only ridden a horse a few times. I’m not used to it.”

  “You wouldn’t need to ride in Manhattan.”

  “We had a house in Saratoga. That’s country.”

  “I’m sorry I didn’t get to see it.”

  Had he moved his mouth to her ear? Whether on purpose or not, his breath tickled her there, and that sent an electric current through her to other, secret parts of her body. Her pearl hardened further, and now, every movement of the horse beneath her rubbed her in the most provocative way.

  Memories of what they’d done at the inn flooded her brain—how she’d clutched at the edges of the table to brace herself for his penetration, the way he’d stretched her to accept his bulk, the discovery later that, in his haste, he hadn’t undressed any more than he’d had to in order to remove his erect member from his pants and shove it into her.

  She’d felt just as urgent to couple then, and she’d reach the same point if the horse kept jostling the throbbing nubbin between her legs.

  The damned beast did it again—stumbled on purpose to push her against the hard leather. She bit her lip, but a whimper slipped out, anyway.

  “Juliet?” Derrington said.

  “It’s nothing.” That almost came out as a cry, so she took a steadying breath. “Is this road particularly rough?”

  “It seems smooth enough to me.”

  It might have been a rock-strewn mountain path for the way the saddle kept rubbing, and they still had some distance to go. Surely, he must have the same problem. His legs were spread, too, and the saddle would caress his sex as well as they went. If only she could get some idea of his state. With any luck, he might become as aroused as she was.

  She wiggled back against him, bringing her rump in direct contact with his front. He answered by sucking in a sharp breath. Good.

  “Perhaps the path is a bit uneven,” he said.

  “I was right.” She moved again, sliding from side to side. Her pearl punished her for it, now throbbing in time with the pounding of her heart. But she got the desired response from him, as he freed one hand from the reins and used his arm to pull her harder against him. Neither of them spoke of what was happening between them. The silence made the game all the more wicked—both of them becoming fully aroused as they rode along a public road in the full light of day. Someone might pass them and have no idea what was happening beneath their clothing.

  He bent to her ear again, circling the outer shell with the tip of his tongue and then sending a hot puff of breath directly inside. She shivered with delight, and moisture seeped from her to dampen her drawers. Soon, this would no longer be a joke. Soon she’d spend where she sat, set off by the rocking of a horse. Even if she could endure this all the way to the manor, she’d have to confront the servants—maybe, even Derrington’s grandmother—before she could get him to a bedroom and have his clothes off.

  The hand holding her crept upward past her ribs and cupped her breast. Her head fell backward, too heavy to hold up, and rested on his shoulder. He fumbled a bit and found the nipple beneath all the layers of clothing. When he tweaked it, she pressed her lips together but couldn’t hold back a moan.

  “David?” she whispered.

  “I’m here.”

  “Do you think, um, you could find someplace private?” she said.

  “There’s a clump of trees up ahead a bit.”

  “Would you please take me there?”

  “Very well,” he answered. “Even with both of us, I think the horse could manage a trot.”

  “No!” Lord, she’d never survive that without spending copiously, not even for a few yards.

  He chuckled, his voice strained. “That hot, are you?”

  “Just, please, find a place we can be alone.”

  “Whatever the lady wants.”

  She moved his hand from her breast, pulling it down in both of hers and holding it at her waist. That let her mind clear a bit, and she took steadying breaths. The trees appeared soon enough, thank heaven. A thick stand of them, tall and close together. No one would see them from the road.

  He guided the horse that way, and in a moment, he stopped, swung his leg over the horse’s rump, and dropped to the ground. When he reached up to her, she let him help her from the saddle and slide her along the length of him until she stood on shaky legs in his embrace.

  When his mouth descended to hers, she answered hungrily. From the first kiss they’d shared in New York, the taste of his lips had always proved a potent drug. At the time, she’d had no real idea where his caresses led. No whispered secrets among girls or tales from married women could hint at the reality of lovemaking with this man. Now, she knew the power of coupling with him, and her sex prepared for the invasion of his stiff member. She grew wetter and wetter as he slid his lips over hers and pressed his tongue into her mouth in search of hers.

  The horse whinnied, and he pulled his face from hers. “By God, you can make me forget my own name. I’ll tether the beast, or we’ll have to walk home.”

  She made herself release him, untangling her fingers from the wool of his coat, and nodded. He only left briefly and then returned.

  “Naked, this time.” He turned her and worked on the fastenings of her dress for the second time in as many hours. Soon, he’d have every intricacy of her clothing memorized. When he had that off, he removed the corset cover and untied the ribbons that held her stays. That came off, followed quickly by her petticoat. A breeze washed over her, bringing a whiff of reality. The trees protected them from view from the road, but if someone came up from behind, they’d get quite a view, indeed. Still, the reality didn’t register in her sex, which continued to throb with desire.

  “What if someone comes along?” she asked.

  “I’ll shield you from view.” He’d pulled up her chemise, exposing her legs. “They’ll get to watch the marquis enjoying himself with his lover.”

  “Ever the gentleman.”

  “Now, hush, and let me strip you.” He pulled the chemise over her head and then added it to the pile of her clothing.

  He turned her to face him and knelt in front of her. After helping her out of her shoes, he stripped her stockings one at a time, letting his fingers trail along her legs. Finally, he reached to the waistband of her drawers, smiling up at her with that twinkle in his eye. He slid the final garment over her hips. When she stepped out of them, she stood before him completely naked. Instead of rising, he pulled her toward him, parting her legs.

  Lord, he was going to kiss her between her legs, right here in God’s out-of-doors. “David, are you sure?”

  “Shhh.” He tugged her closer, her sex approaching his mouth. “Give me one more moment of obedience.”

  “But…”

  He pressed his face to her, and his tongue came out to part the lips of her pussy and stroke her pearl. If
she’d thought to stop him before, that idea flew right out of her mind. All that rubbing against the saddle had pushed her too far to do anything but let him do whatever came into that devilish mind of his.

  He worked his usual magic. As many times as he’d done this for her, the intensity of the pleasure never failed to amaze her. Soon, she turned molten inside as currents and eddies of need swirled through her.

  He stopped before she came against his mouth. “Just the smell of you drives me mad.”

  “Are you going to make love to me or kneel there all day?”

  He gazed up at her. “Don’t you like me to worship you?”

  “I’d rather you treat me like a harlot.”

  “I’ll make you an honest woman,” he said. “Just say the word.”

  He looked so beguiling—like a naughty boy who knew he’d done something clever. She smiled in spite of herself.

  “Well, I had to try,” he said.

  “Get undressed.”

  He rose, and the two of them tore into his clothing. She knew less of his dress than he knew of hers, and with both of their hands moving, the process became clumsy quickly. They got his jacket off and then his shirt. While he worked on his pants, she bent to attack his shoes.

  Only, they weren’t shoes but riding boots. When she lifted his foot to try to remove one, he fell backward, laughing.

  “Are you all right?”

  He lay there, chuckling. “I’ve never had a woman so eager she knocked me over before.”

  “I mean it. Are you hurt?”

  “Only my pride. You should be able to rid me of my boots now.”

  She did, and they came off easily. His socks went next, and she tugged at his pants. As usual, he wore nothing at all underneath. As she pulled the trousers down, his sex came free. Just as hard and beautiful as it always was. She stretched out next to him and put her fingers around the shaft. “I never tire of this.”

  “A man’s not supposed to be able to respond again so quickly,” he said.

  “But you’re no ordinary man. You have the Winslow curse.”

  “And I have the most bewitching lover in the world,” he said. “You’ve cast a spell on me.”