When Love Comes Calling: Two Short Stories

by Samantha Kane

  “Yes,” Edmund said, his voice low because he found it hard to speak as her eyes devoured his cock hungrily. “Yes, if they’re smart they do. Suck it, Sylvie, go ahead.”

  She leaned forward and tentatively took the head into her warm, wet mouth, her rosebud lips stretched around its girth. His cock jerked at the first touch of her mouth on him, and she had to grab the base with one hand while the other hand stayed on his knee for balance. Edmund groaned at the sight and feel of what she was doing to him.

  She was sexual abandon personified as she delicately sucked his cock and swirled her tongue around the head. Her hair was mussed, falling from its prim and proper style. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes gleaming as she concentrated completely on what she was doing. She was a fast learner, her tender sucking and tasting making every nerve in Edmund’s body quiver with hungry impatience. Her shoulders were gently sloped, her slim arms trapped in the fallen sleeves of her gown, impeding their movement. It was a gentle bondage that aroused him. Her breasts were not large, but they were very appealing, sloping deliciously from the top to the small hard points of her deep pink nipples to a full, round bottom that curved into her delicate sternum. His mouth watered as he remembered the way her breasts tasted. They swayed softly with her movements as her head moved on his cock, and the sight was almost as mesmerizing as his cock moving slowly deeper and deeper into her mouth.

  “Yes, that’s good, Sylvie,” he praised her roughly. “Take more, yes, like that.” She opened her mouth a little wider, he didn’t think it could open much more, and he slid another inch inside. She gagged a little and he pulled back. “I’m sorry, darling, sorry.” He was panting, the words harder and harder to get out. “I…relax, and just try to take as much as you can. I…” he chuckled breathlessly, derisively. “I don’t think I’m going to last much longer, sweet. When I come, will you try to take it, Sylvie? It is so amazing if you do.” She nodded her head and Edmund groaned again, his head falling back.

  His hips began moving of their own accord, thrusting his cock into her mouth. He ruthlessly controlled the motion as best he could. He didn’t want to be too rough this first time, but God, next time she sucked his cock he was going to be on top fucking her mouth hard.

  Sylvie was moving on his cock, up and down, licking and swirling her tongue. It felt so incredible he didn’t think it could get better. Then she sucked hard without warning, long, sucking pulls that made his balls draw up tight as she sucked him as deep into her mouth as she could, practically to her throat from the feel of it.

  “Christ!” Edmund gasped, and he grabbed the back of her head with one hand, his fingers tangling in her hair as he held her there, his cock deep, and she sucked and sucked. His hips jerked and he felt his climax coming. “I’m going to come, Sylvie,” he said from between clenched teeth. “I’m going to come,” and it was as if the words unlocked the orgasm from deep within him. The heat of his cum shot up his cock and out into her mouth, filling it, swirling around his cock in there before she managed a choking swallow. He knew it was too much, knew she was having trouble, but couldn’t stop, couldn’t pull out. It felt too damn good. Through hazy vision he saw her latched onto his cock, sucking and swallowing and the sight was so bloody fucking amazing he felt a second wave take him and he had to close his eyes to ride it.

  When he could breathe again, he let go of her head and she pulled off, gasping. She didn’t pull far away, and he could feel her hot breath on the incredibly sensitive head of his cock, and it made him shiver.

  “I’m sorry, Sylvie,” he said between deep breaths, “but God, it was so good.”

  Sylvie licked her lips, and one finger came up to wipe off a smear of cum in the corner. She sucked the cum off and Edmund’s heart flipped over as it was pounding mercilessly in his chest.

  “I liked it,” Sylvie said quietly, her voice a little rough from his cock being rammed in her throat, he was sure. She smiled beatifically at him, and his heart squeezed. Much more of this and he’d have an apoplexy. “Is it all right that I liked it?”

  Edmund laughed weakly, and leaned forward to kiss her softly on the lips. “Yes, it’s more than all right,” he whispered against that smile.

  Chapter 4

  They dressed clumsily, trying to help one another with shaking hands which they laughed about. His jacket was a rumpled ruin, her hair impossibly tangled, and there was a rip in her petticoat.

  “We smell like sex,” Sylvie said with a sigh as she took his offered hand and gingerly stepped down the folly’s marble steps to the path.

  Edmund leaned over and breathed in a heady dose of the scent from Sylvie’s neck, making her laugh. “Yes, yes we do,” he replied contentedly.

  They walked in silence for a minute, picking their way over summer’s detritus on the path.

  “I will come to you tonight,” he told her matter-of-factly.

  Sylvie stopped and looked at him, horrified. “You can’t!” she cried, letting go of his arm. “The servants will talk already, Edmund. Please, you can’t.”

  He gave her a long look and Sylvie began to panic. “You have one day, Sylvie, to figure out how we can do this without detection. But I will be in your bed tomorrow night.”

  Sylvie bit her cheek in indecision. She wanted this affair, desperately. Edmund had shown her a passion today that she hadn’t known existed, not just within her but in the whole world. She craved more of it, more of him. She couldn’t imagine doing those things with anyone but Edmund. She didn’t even want to contemplate a life without them. But dare she risk it? She felt as if she’d been waiting a lifetime for this. Surely there was some way to be with Edmund without everyone knowing. Other people managed it, didn’t they? She had to find a way.

  “I will tell you tomorrow,” she whispered, making a decision she hoped she wouldn’t regret. “I’ll think about how it can be done. I’ll figure it out, and I’ll tell you tomorrow morning when you come.”

  Edmund smiled mischievously. “I get to come again tomorrow morning? I like the sound of that.”

  Sylvie blushed at his innuendo and Edmund laughed. It was a sound she was beginning to crave.

  They came out of the woods and started across the green just as Sylvie’s housekeeper Mrs. Price stepped onto the terrace. She saw Sylvie and began walking toward them.

  “There you are, my lady.” She stopped at the bottom of the steps and looked at Sylvie suspiciously. “Are you quite all right, Lady Bartlebyrne?”

  Sylvie laughed brittlely, and Edmund gave an inward sigh. She was right, she was horrible at subterfuge.

  “I desired a bit of fresh air and a walk,” Edmund told Mrs. Price with an innocent smile.

  “Ah,” Mrs. Price said, smiling back. “These youngsters, eh Lady Bartlebyrne? They quite wear us out, don’t they?” She clucked sympathetically and took Sylvie’s arm, helping her up the stairs as if she were infirm. “And you without a bonnet or shawl. You must be worn out, dear. We’ll just have a lie down, hmm?”

  She would be the first to go, Edmund thought, glaring at her unsuspecting back. The thought startled him and he stumbled. Was he really thinking of a future? Here? In Byrnham? No, he realized, watching Sylvie turn to wave goodbye as the housekeeper swept her into the house. Here, at The Byrne. And the thought didn’t scare the wits out of him. As a matter of fact, it sounded damn good.

  Two weeks later Sylvie showed Edmund to the door after their morning tea and pastries. “Are you going to see Mrs. Tilbury today?” Sylvie asked as they walked slowly.

  “Yes.” Edmund stopped and took his hat and gloves from Jernigan. “I’ve found her some work as a washerwoman and given her some funds from the parish, but I want to make sure she and the children have enough provisions. When she finally came to see me they were nearly starving. I’m appalled that she waited four months after her husband’s death to seek assistance.”

  Sylvie shook her head and sighed. “It’s very hard for some of the women to admit they need help. Accepting charity marks
them in the neighborhood, no matter what you or I say or do. It is an attitude that is very pervasive here in the country, where people are expected to help themselves.” Sylvie had to clutch her hands together to keep from smoothing Edmund’s jacket across his shoulders after he put his hat on. “I do hope the work you’re doing with the parish charity board will help. Prior to your arrival I was the only one calling for more assistance to the widows and orphans. Most of the others wish to keep the funds in case of an emergency at the parsonage or the church, and the last vicar quite agreed with them.”

  Edmund smiled at her, his eyes saying what he couldn’t speak. The look was so tender Sylvie nearly gave in and touched him. Edmund turned and stepped to the door. Sylvie blushed at the knowing look he gave her. He knew she’d been about to touch him and he’d moved deliberately.

  “I shall handle the board.” Edmund’s voice was hard as he said it, and Sylvie almost felt sorry for Sir Josiah Poole, who’d led the conservative board for years. “I hope more women will come forward if they are in need of assistance, and do not wait as long as Mrs. Tilbury now that they know the parish is available to help.” His voice softened. “I shall give Mrs. Tilbury your regards.”

  Sylvie cleared her throat self-consciously. “Yes, yes do, please.” She glanced out the door behind him. “I’ve had cook make up a basket for them. I believe it’s waiting by your horse.”

  “I shall make sure they get it,” Edmund said while looking out at the drive. He turned back and again his eyes said more than he could. “Thank you, Lady Bartlebyrne.”

  He tipped his hat and Sylvie stayed to watch, dreamy-eyed, as he mounted his horse and rode away, turning in the saddle to smile at her before riding out of the drive. She went back in the house, humming happily as she swayed to a tune in her head, the same tune Edmund had hummed in her ear last night as he waltzed her around her bedroom naked. She looked up to catch a smile on Jernigan’s face. The butler immediately wiped his expression clean, but Sylvie felt herself blush, and she hurried back into her solar to escape.

  Edmund had visited her almost every night for the last two weeks. The three nights he hadn’t come had been interminable. They had kissed, licked and sucked every single inch of skin on each other’s bodies, and Sylvie still blushed at the memories. He had even introduced her to anal sex, something she had never even dreamed of. Who could imagine that a man’s cock there would feel so good? It was a way to fuck him without having to worry about pregnancy, and he loved it. She loved it. He’d brought her a gift, a “toy” he’d called it. A dildo made from jade. They had had hours of fun playing with that. She wanted him so much, every minute of every hour of every day. She knew it was foolish—eventually this affair would have to end. He would lose interest in her as she began to age more noticeably, and he would look for a younger woman to take to wife. The thought ripped through Sylvie’s chest like a rapier, cutting out her heart. She knew she would leave The Byrne then. She couldn’t stay here and watch Edmund with another woman. She had, in the supreme act of stupidity, fallen in love with him.

  She sighed as she sank down on the velvet divan positioned so she could look out over the gardens. How she loved it here. It was only fitting that The Byrne was the backdrop for the great love of her life. It would make her memories of this beloved house even sweeter when she was an old woman.

  There was only one thing marring her enjoyment of her torrid affair with Edmund—John the coachman. She’d been afraid to go near her own stables for almost a month, afraid of seeing him and the leering, knowing grin she knew he’d give her. She’d seen it. Several days after their horrid encounter she’d called for her coach and he had bordered on insolence. It had been intolerable, but there was nothing she could do. She had lain with him! She deserved those awful looks. She put her face in her hands. What had she been thinking? No, she knew what she’d been thinking. She’d been thinking about Edmund and how much she wanted him but would never have him. She had touched herself until she ached and never been fulfilled, wishing it was Edmund’s hands on her, Edmund’s finger inside her.

  It was on the way home from a dinner at Sir Josiah Poole’s, in Edmund’s honor, that it had happened. Sylvie had watched Edmund all night, watched the young girls flock to him as he smiled and teased them, knowing he would never be hers. By the time she left she was wet and aching from the sight of him, and desolate because she couldn’t have him. When John had pulled the coach over on the dark road and climbed inside with her she thought she had nothing to live for, nothing to lose. No words had been spoken as he’d opened his trousers and shown her his hard cock. The sight had aroused her, the idea of a man hard for her. She’d said nothing when he’d roughly pushed her to the floor on her hands and knees and thrown her skirts up. But it was Edmund’s face she’d seen as he thrust inside, Edmund’s voice she heard in his grunts, Edmund with whom she came.

  Sylvie shook her head to clear the images from her mind. She took a deep breath, resolved to deal with the situation, now, this morning. She wouldn’t let the ugliness of what had happened with John ruin her happiness with Edmund.

  When she got to the stables there was no one about. “Hullo?” she called out in a hesitant voice. The air in the stable was hot and dust filled, and the stalls needed to be mucked out. It should have been done hours ago. Sylvie looked in one stall and realized it hadn’t been done for days. She was appalled. “John?” she called out sharply.

  He came to the door of the back room in which he slept and leaned against the doorjamb. “You rang, milady?” he asked with a sly grin. He sauntered into the stable, his shirt open, looking disreputable and rather dangerous. Sylvie took a step back. She hadn’t noticed John’s looks much, not even the night he’d fucked her. He’d been a cock, that was all. She was ashamed at the thought, but it was true nonetheless. She looked at him now, surprised at his brutish good looks.

  He was tall, as she’d known, with jet black hair that fell over his brow rakishly. His eyes were a startling blue, his other features coarse but attractive. He had a dimple in his chin and strong, white teeth. One of his front teeth was chipped, giving him almost a boyish appeal. But the muscular, hairy chest revealed by his open shirt belied that impression. Sylvie took another step back. As good looking as he was, she still got an uneasy feeling from him.

  “I been wonderin’ when you’d come for some more,” he said insolently, rubbing his hand down his chest to his crotch, where he cupped the bulge there suggestively.

  Sylvie gasped in outrage. “That is not why I am here! I have come to tell you that…that that can never happen again between us.” John kept coming closer and Sylvie backed up until she was near the stable door.

  “Ah, come on now, I knows ya liked it,” he drawled lasciviously. “I sure did. My da was right, gentry cunt is fine indeed.”

  Sylvie felt ill. “Please, John. You must understand. I was…I was lonely, and not thinking clearly that night. I do not wish to use you that way.”

  John spread his hands in a magnanimous gesture. “Why not? I don’t mind. Use me, my lady, all you like.” He grinned as he ran a finger over his chin. “I love a good fuck, and you are that.”

  He feinted to the right and Sylvie moved to the left, but he was quick and she realized her mistake as he grabbed her arm. He laughed as he brought her flush against him, grinding his hard cock into her stomach. “Let’s have a fuck now, my lady. You’ll change your tune after you come on me cock again.”

  “No!” Sylvie cried, pushing at his chest ineffectually. He leaned in for a kiss, and Sylvie bit his lip hard, desperate to get away. With a yell he let her go and she scrambled to the open door while he cursed.

  Sylvie was breathing hard, frightened. “You must leave here, John. I’m sorry, but you must. I shall give you a good reference, you deserve that much. I’m sorry.” She started to leave but his reply shocked her into immobility.

  “I deserve a hell of a lot more than that, your high and mighty ladyship, and you’ll pay it. You�
�ll pay for John to keep his mouth shut, or the whole village will know about you and me,” he growled.

  Sylvie spun back around to face him. “You wouldn’t dare!”

  John grinned, his teeth bloody from the bite she’d given him. “Oh yes I would. Ruin what you’ve got with the vicar, won’t it? You tell him about our little fuck?”

  Sylvie’s chest felt as if it were crushing the breath from her lungs. “What are you talking about?”

  John laughed cruelly. “I seen him, sneaking in the veranda door after the house is asleep, and sneaking back out afore dawn. I was tempted to try the same thing, but he’s a horny little bastard, here practically every night. Wouldn’t want anyone to know about that either, would you?” He grinned cruelly. “Then they’d all know the saintly Lady Bartlebyrne has a hot cunt for young cock.”

  “What do you want?” Sylvie was going to throw up. She knew as soon as she left the stable she’d throw up.

  “Oh, just a little extra in me wages, I suppose,” he said amiably, stepping toward her again. She backed away and his face was angry. “And some o’ what you’re givin’ the good vicar.”

  Sylvie clutched her stomach and ran, John calling angrily to her from the stable door.

  Sylvie took to her bed for two days. She sent a note round to Edmund telling him she was unwell the first night. She’d refused to see him the following morning, pleading a stomach illness, and he’d penned a note saying she should contact him when she was feeling better. She’d read between the lines. He was very concerned for her, and angry that he couldn’t force his way in to see her. Last night John had stood beneath her window softly calling up to her in a chilling, singsong voice half the night. He thought he had her, that she would give in.

  She’d cried out all her tears and made her decision. She would break it off with Edmund, and refuse to pay John his blood money. She wouldn’t be in that kind of debt to him. She would have to leave here, of course, even if John didn’t make good on his threats. She felt soul sick at the thought of losing Edmund and The Byrne. Before it had been a vague possibility in the back of her mind, now it was a crushing reality.