by Tia Siren
Her mound was exposed, slick with desire, a pink line in the midst of her pubic hair, the same auburn color as her hair. He positioned himself between her legs and then used his hand to guide himself in. He went slowly and looked down into her eyes. She looked uncomfortable, bit her lip when she felt a slight pain.
“Are you alright?” Andrew asked his bride to be, and she nodded.
“Don’t stop,” she said, her voice on the edge of pleading. And so he didn’t.
He went slowly at first, pushing into her, and then pulling out. Her hands were on his back, and then one was on his head, gathering a fistful of his hair.
He couldn’t keep the slow pace, though. She was so tight, so pristine, it excited him and his hips began to move more quickly. Catherine had never felt such pleasure, and it wasn’t long before a wave of pleasure ripped through her body, starting at her loins and then spreading to her lower stomach. Her stomach spasmed, her vagina tightened, gripping onto Andrew's cock more tightly than it had been before, and then he couldn’t hold back, and he was coming. His mind raced, and he pulled out of her as he came, and thick strings of semen erupted from the tip of his penis and landed on her exposed stomach. Andrew reached down, taking himself in his hand and finished, a quick tug on his penis and more sperm was there, sitting in a mess on her belly.
He helped her clean up, and they spent the day together. It was wonderful, Catherine couldn’t argue that. They ate lunch and rode horses afterward. He read her his favorite poetry, and she told him her favorite bawdy joke though she didn’t tell him Dominick had told it to her years ago.
At night, they lay in bed together, after their second round of lovemaking in the day. Catherine was hot, her body covered in a slick sheet of sweat. Once again, Andrew had refused to ejaculate in her, though this time she had used her hand to finish him off, and he had shifted so that his sperm would land on her breasts. In all, it was rather exciting.
“What made you change your mind?” Andrew asked her as they lay, trying to catch their breath.
“I just grew up,” Catherine said, not wishing to get into the real reason.
“Well, we shouldn’t have done that once, much less twice. It won’t do to have a pregnant bride on her wedding day.”
“You finished outside of me,” she said softly. “It will be fine.”
“That it will. Still, I think it best if we refrain from that until the wedding night. As much as it pains me to say it.”
“You’re right, Duke Rotham,” Catherine said.
“Call me Andrew,” he said, taking her hand and kissing it.
He turned over and snuffed the lamp on the small table next to the bed, and was quickly asleep. But Catherine couldn’t sleep. She lay awake in the inky darkness, staring up at the ceiling, and wondering if she had made a mistake. By the time the morning light came streaming in through the window, she knew she had. She had only wanted to make Dominick jealous. The way she had been jealous. When Andrew awoke, she made an excuse to leave, and he allowed her to take his carriage home.
She avoided everyone for the day, taking her meals in her room, under the pretense that she felt sick. What she had done grew on her conscious, a big pit of guilt that resided in her stomach, the same place her orgasm had settled.
****
The night after she had slept with Andrew, Catherine was woken by a tapping on her window. She sat up in bed and pushed the canopy out of the way. She couldn’t believe her eyes. There, at her window, so many feet in the air, was Dominick. She rushed to let him in, not caring that she was in her nightgown. He climbed in through the window.
“What are you doing?” she asked as she shut the window once more.
“I had to see you,” he said. “I felt terrible about the morning last,” he said. “I’m not a smart man, but I’m smart enough to know I need you in my life. I can’t let that Duke take you from me.”
“We have no choice!” Catherine said,
“Be with me now,” Dominick said, taking her hand. “Let us worry about it in the morning.”
Catherine pulled her hand from his. “The Duke, he tells me he knows something about you. Something horrible, something about Ginger Street.”
Dominick sighed. “It is my burden,” he said. “Believe me when I say that. Come now, I’ve missed you.” He bent and kissed her, and she let him.
“I’m terribly upset,” she said. “Mad at you.”
Dom looked at his childhood friend, his love. “Catherine, with everything in my power, I will make it up to you.”
Catherine nodded, and she couldn’t keep a small smile from turning up the corners of her mouth. He kissed her again, and this time she returned it. And then she took his hand and pulled him to her bed.
Dominick needed nothing else than that; he took control, practically ripping the nightgown from Catherine's body. He tossed the torn material to the ground, and then his hands and mouth were on her breasts. Where the Duke was gentle, slow and sweet, Dominick was like a hungry wolf. He pawed at her, bit her.
He stood up suddenly and undid the front of his pants, and then let them fall to the floor. His penis was hard, jutting out in front of him. He took Catherine by the arm and pulled her off of the bed, and then pushed her to her knees. His penis bobbed in front of her, and she looked up to him. She knew what he wanted, but she had never thought to do that before. She had used her hand on him before, and he had rubbed her breasts, and that was the extent of their physical relationship to that point. Now she had been deflowered, but this was new to her.
He thrust his hips forward, and the head of his penis rubbed against her lips. She parted them slowly, and he went inside her mouth. It wasn’t unpleasant, not like the way she thought it might be. There was a bitter taste at the back of her throat, and then he was pulling out of her mouth. He held her there, a hand in her hair at the back of her head, and he controlled the movement with his hips. Finally, Dominick couldn’t take it anymore, and he pulled out of her mouth and bent, lifting her up and all but tossing her onto the bed.
He climbed atop her, and she opened her legs to him. He slid inside.
“Does it hurt?” he asked.
She was wondering whether he would be able to tell that she was no longer a virgin, and since he didn’t seem able to, she winced and nodded. “It’s alright,” she said, and that was the only time he asked.
The lovemaking was fast and rough. He moved atop her like a rabbit, not like a tender lover. He was finished before she was, not bothering to pull out of her as he ejaculated. The experience was a good one, but not as good as the night with Andrew had been. Still, Dom was the man she loved.
“I have a plan,” he said as he caught his breath as he laid next to her on the bed.
“We can run away together,” she said.
“We can duel. I’ll duel him,” Dominick said.
“He said you have no honor.”
Dominick digested that information, and it left a sour look upon his face. “He said that about me?”
“Yes,” Catherine said. “He may not duel you; dueling is for honorable men.”
“And you don’t think I’m honorable?” Dominick snapped, too loudly.
“I did not claim that, and be quiet, if my father were to wake.”
Dominick nodded and took a deep breath. “I’ll challenge him. A sword fight. I can beat him. If I win, I’ll tell him the marriage will not happen. If he thinks I have no honor, I’ll show him.”
Catherine just nodded as they lay in the darkness though she wasn’t sure Dominick's plan was the best one they could come up with.
In the morning, the young man was gone. Just after lunch Duke Rotham called upon her.
“You’ve changed your mind?” he asked, when they were alone, strolling arm and arm through the garden.
“I love him,” Catherine said.
“I’ve accepted his request,” Andrew told her. “A Gentleman cannot refuse.”
“He’ll kill you!” Catherine said. “You c
annot!”
“I can, and I have. He is a formidable fighter, quite the boxer I’ve heard. But sword fighting, it’s another thing altogether. I’ve fenced for many years; my foil is sharp.”
“He’s strong.”
“You don’t believe me to be strong?”
Catherine shook her head. “No, I know you are, but he’s stronger.”
They stopped walking, and Duke Rotherham looked to her. “Fear not for me, and if he allows it when I have bested him, I will leave him alive.
Catherine looked at the man, and her heart was so torn, and her mind so full of fear, she couldn’t speak to him.
****
They met for the duel that same evening, as the sun was sinking in the sky, turning the clouds that had formed a soft pink. They were dueling in front of Duke Rotham’s manor. He stood with a few servants, dressed smartly, choosing a foil from a choice of five. After he had selected his, the servants moved to Dominick, and he chose one without nearly as much consideration as Andrew had put into it.
The two men faced each other, and they bowed.
“A fight to the death then?” Dominick asked.
“If it comes to that,” Andrew replied. A small group had gathered to watch, including Catherine and her father. The Duke went on. “But I hope it does not come to that. First to yield is the loser.”
“I won’t yield,” Dominick said angrily. “I love her.”
“So do I,” Andrew said, his eyes flickering over to Catherine. She felt her heart hammering in her chest, so hard that she thought for one wild moment, it would leap up the canal from her chest and out through her mouth.
And then the duel began.
Both men came together, and with a flash of silver their swords clanged. They both moved quickly, their feet taking them back and forth. The crowd reacted to each near miss, backing up when need be. The Duke caught Dominick on the arm and drew blood, and the crowd gasped, but the young men refused to yield, and he went forward, pressing the attack on the older gentleman.
Andrew was experienced, that much was plain, and if they were going by just skill, he would be the winner. But Dominick fought with something else, something other than skill. He had fury. He was angry, and though his blows missed and were easily parried, they were strong and brutal. When his blade met Andrew’s, the roar of the metal striking metal was almost like a beast screaming out in pain.
Dominick went on the offensive, and he hammered the Duke back. Over and over his foil clashed against Andrew’s. And just when it looked as though Dominick might get a blow past the other man's guard, Andrew dashed out with a wild thrust, which pierced Dominick’s stomach and made him lose grip of his weapon.
“No!” Catherine yelled, and she almost stepped forward, but her father put his hand on her shoulder, keeping her back.
Dominick’s shirt was stained crimson as his blood poured freely. He fell to his knees, and Duke Rotham stepped forward, holding his blade at the boy’s neck.
“Do you yield?” he asked.
Dominick looked up to him. “You’ve taken everything from me, what is my life?”
“If she knew the man you were, if she knew the truth, she wouldn’t want to be with you,” Rotham said.
“What does he mean?” Catherine called, stepping away from her father. Dominick looked to her, sitting on his knees with his hand on his wound. Blood poured from between his fingers.
“I could never tell you,” he said.
“Tell me, or I could never love you,” Catherine countered.
“If I tell you, you will never love me.”
“Let me be the judge.”
Rotherham stepped back, allowing the young man and the young woman a bit of privacy though the crowd pushed in to hear.
“Ginger Street. We were upon it, and some man, a blacksmith I think it was, he came at us. We never learned why, but some people hate the army. Some slight perhaps, or maybe his son was killed in battle. He came, and we killed him. Not me, but one of us. We are brothers. After that, the street, just this one little street in one little town, it erupted, and the people who lived there, they attacked us. I had to kill some of them.”
“Why would that make me hate you?’ Catherine asked. None of it made sense. It was certainly a horrible story, but not one who made her think any less of Dominick.
“My company stayed there. We were ordered to. That night, on that street, after the skirmish, we found these three girls. The blacksmith’s daughters. They were young, thirteen at the least, and sixteen at the oldest. We hated them upon finding them. Three of our own company had died in the fight. We… we took it out on them. We had our ways with them, one girl with two or more men on them sometimes… and then after, we killed them.”
Catherine put her hand over her mouth. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. It was all too horrible, so much worse than she could ever imagine.
“I’ll leave,” Dominick said, and he stood and turned. He left drops of crimson on the stone behind him as he walked. Catherine watched him go.
“You can go after him; the marriage can be off,” Duke Rotham said, he was suddenly beside her. “I want you to marry me because you love me, not because your father loves my title.”
Catherine looked up at the man, and then back to Dominick. When she turned away from Dom, she knew it was the last time she would ever see him. That thought saddened her greatly, but she knew it was the right decision. She wasn’t sure if she would ever come to regret it, but somehow, she didn’t think she would. He had lied to her, had kept such dark things from her. If he could do that, for so long, maybe it was true that she never even really knew him.
And the Duke. He was an honorable man. He had been patient and had weathered her childishness with maturity. Images from that day on the long sofa rushed into her mind, and she felt his lips upon hers, his gentle movements inside her.
She put her arm around Andrew’s and led him to his manor.
“We have a wedding to plan,” she said.
*****
THE END
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Dancing With A Duke – A Regency Romance
The Dukedom of Tregony was the one of the largest in England. The home of the Duke of Tregony, it was a vast estate, including ten villages, eighteen farms and hundreds of acres of grouse moor. Sleningford Castle, the Duke's home, was proportionately large. The original castle had been built in 1310 by one of the Duke's forefathers. Over the years it had been expanded and now it was a vast home, in which it was easy to lose oneself. There were two main entrances to the castle grounds. Each was guarded by a splendid lodge house and an iron gate. The driveway to the castle was simply magnificent. Only at the very last minute did the castle come into view. It was a breath taking moment of discovery for any visitor, as they rounded the final corner.
Isabella's day of work had finished, and she had retired to her room. The Governess to the Duke's three children, she had been afforded a room of higher status than any of the servants. Unusually, it was located at the front of the castle, and Isabella was able to enjoy the views of the magnificent garden, and the shooting moor in the distance.
She glanced into the full length chevalier mirror. Isabella never liked what she saw. Today was an especially bad day. Her confidence had been dented when she'd over heard the butler and the cook talking about her. She knew she wore larger dresses than was the norm, but she hated her figure and saw no reason to highlight it. Today she'd worn a green Empire dress, so typical of the period. It had a high waist line, puff sleeves and a square décolleté. Isabella had closed the décolleté with a finely decorated
chemisette. She hated modern fashion. Soft muslin dresses clung to the body, leaving little to the imagination. She always wore two dress sizes bigger than she needed. She was grateful for undergarments, like pantaloons, which stopped her dresses clinging to the body she found so loathsome.
She took off her clothes and closed her eyes to prevent herself from looking at her naked flesh in the mirror. As a blind person, she searched for her nightdress, and gratefully pulled it over her head.
Isabella's routine was always the same. When she handed the children over to their nanny at five pm, she would retire to her room, read and got to sleep. This evening was no exception. She had read five chapters of 'Sense and Sensibility,' a new novel by Jane Austen. She'd marveled at the brave Mr. Willoughby. In fact, Isabella had already fallen in love with him. A hopeless romantic, she lived her life lost in the painful thought that she would never be the subject of any man's attention. She took comfort, therefore, in fictional characters.
Isabella's last activity of the day was prayer, and this day was no exception. She knelt at the side of her bed, closed her eyes and placed her hands together.
''Dear Lord, please forgive my shortcomings and anything I have done today which may have displeased you. Please also look over Edith, James and Mark. They have all done their best today and deserve your thoughts. If I may Lord, I would like to make mention of the Duke. He is a special man who has been dealt a savage blow in his life. Please release him from his suffering, and grant him a life free of grief and pain. Lord, please look upon my dear father with mercy. He has been foolish, but I know he is a good man in his heart. I ask you to protect him in that vile place. Finally Lord, I ask you to bless my late mother. Thank you for relieving her of her pain in the gentle manner you did. Amen.''
****
''Isabella, please put down your books for once and come and sit with me. I have something to tell you.'' Harriet said.
''Harriet, I would like nothing more than to sit with you and pass the time, but the children will be back from their lunch soon. I must prepare their lessons. It is no easy task. Edith is three years older than the two twins and she is, of course, far more advanced. She is especially good at French. I am sure one day she will be the wife of a French Noblesse d'epee.''