I remembered telling Adrian how I didn’t want to fight with the world, why now did William’s proposal seem like a capitulation?
“You need your lust, your sexual heat, your relish for living. Don’t be foolish to throw it away again.”
We agreed to meet in the morning. He wouldn’t even let me answer his proposal that night, though we both knew the answer. It was a matter of principle with William Sage that I not be reckless anymore. Waiting until morning to give him my reply was ample time.
It was an easy life to agree to. William was indeed training race horses in a northern county for one of the best stables anywhere around. His position was prestigious, he had more money now; but I wouldn’t be the lady of some fine manor, just the wife of a hardworking man. I imagine he could have told me he was coal miner or a fisherman and I’d have been happy too. He was the one dream I trusted, the one vision from my fantasy that hadn’t failed me.
Chapter Fourteen
We married at eight that morning, in a small parish church. The two of us with the parish priest and lots of smiles. I was shivering to my bones thinking it the most rash wonderful thing I’d ever done, even though I was so scared I could hardly get my vows out of my lips.
***
There was a smaller hotel in town. A boarding house in fact, where at nine o’clock in the morning there was no one around, the boarders all on their way to work. Except for an industrious hostess doing a mountain of sheets in the downstairs laundry, the place was deserted.
I was jabbering like an idiot all the way to the house, while he checked in, and as we mounted the stairs together. William was serene and very quiet, and when we got to the top of the two flights of stairs, he turned to me and placed a quieting finger over my lips.
“You’ll never remember this day if you keep squawking like a Bluejay,” he said.
I smiled at his small joke.
“Now, you spend some time settling down, I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
“Back? Where are you going?” I was instantly despondent, having plans to tackle him to the bed while we struggled to throw off our clothes.
“Don’t bother worrying,” he said, and he pushed me in the door.
Our room at the top of the great white boarding house was white, bright and sunny. It was cold outside, but a fire in the fireplace made the room warm. In the center of the room, the bed was bathed in sunshine so it reminded me of my glade between the trees. It almost seemed I could hear the babbling brook in my ear. There was a huge mountain of comforters that were softer than any bedclothes I ever remember. They were certainly softer than the rough sheets of William’s crude bed in the cabin, though it really made no difference where I had him. It was only important that we were together again.
I stood in the sunshine for a minute catching my breath. William was right to leave me alone. His sudden reappearance, a quick marriage, and I was wondering what madness Isabella had brought to herself this day.
I was standing at the window, looking out on the village that was springing to life, just as my husband and I were going to bed. I felt cozy in this room, against the November cold outside. How warm I was, caressed by the sun. He’d said it wouldn’t be a conventional marriage. Where other brides had wedding nights. I would have a wedding morning. As well as I already knew my husband, William, I was shivering as if it was my first time. I opened the buttons of my dress, and shimmied out of it. With just a little silk remaining on me, I might have been cold if the sun hadn’t been hitting my body. I stroked my arms, thinking of William doing the same, wishing he’d return to capture me, and take me off to bed. Glancing at the white expanse of sheets, pillows and downy comforter, I was reluctant, wondering if being married would make the sexual excursion different.
So much waiting. Here, I’d almost given myself to a stranger just hours before, just to have an instant of pleasure, that I’d only remember later with soft regretful sighs.
The strangest thought came to mind, that William had been watching me all these months, with eyes that could see me wherever I was, with a gaze that crossed over distance. He’d known everything about me without my saying a word. How else could I explain it, but a connection that hadn’t died the day he exited my uncle’s estate? He knew the exact moment to approach me again. He knew the words to have me easily conquered. His senses were so finally tuned to what was deep inside me.
In the middle of that thought, I felt William’s hands touch me, imposing on my reverie, stroking my bottom through the wisp of silk. I jerked to have him touch me again, but I didn’t cry out. I smelled the musky scent of earth on him, traces of the farm where he worked no doubt, rising to my nostrils. It was a perfume I adored. He kissed my neck sweetly. A dozen smaller kisses followed, little ones, so little I could hardly distinguish one from the other. It took some moments before I realized how thoroughly he’d captured me. A scarf wrapped around my wrists behind me, he pushed me toward the sun baked swath of comforter on the bed, my torso tumbling into softness, my ass end waving in heated light.
“But I can’t touch you,” I protested. How I longed to have my hands on him!
“Exactly as you need it, Isabella,” he replied.
Hands roving my behind, pulling cheeks, kissing skin, lapping at the doors of pleasure, I felt his tongue poke through the wetness to find the hard bud that made me squeal. Apparently he didn’t require quiet any longer because he didn’t silence my spirited cries.
His tongue remained a long time, until with just its gentle probing I was climaxing, groaning, squirming and pressing myself against his face. Only then, did he loosen the scarf so my hands were free. But he was binding them again to the bedpost, my nakedness stretched taut, my breasts elongated, and from where he stood above me gazing down, I could see his nakedness too, and his stiff prick, responding to what I offered him.
“It’s a pity that you left in the middle of your lessons, Isabella,” he said. “I would have taken you many places by now.”
He pulled up on me straddling my body, and beginning with my outstretched arms journeyed with kisses and nibbles, all the way past my ticklish underarms, to my breasts, and then to my navel. On this trip, he ignored my cunt, deliberately went around it until I was bucking against the bed, and crying for him to change his course.
I was pleading with him.
“You don’t get to take charge, my dear wench,” he told me flatly, and the arousal continued ever more fierce.
When I thought I couldn’t stand anymore, William drew my legs up over his shoulders, and thrust his penis deep. The wave of sensation that crashed inside me didn’t bother to recede, but moved me briskly toward another end, while he was finding his.
He kept me tied all morning, and most of the afternoon. He called it punishment, in lieu of just hauling off and giving me the good thrashing I deserved. He said that would come later, and I almost wished he’d just give into the idea, though I imagined we both liked the tease of it as much as the reality.
When he finally released me, it was late in the afternoon. The day’s shadows had changed and our perch in the heavens looked much different now. I could finally wrap my longing arms around him, feel his skin with my hands, run my fingers through his hair, and plant my own kisses wilfully on his lips, and chest, and navel and penis.
“Thank you for rescuing me, Mr. Sage,” I said looking up at him, stroking his dark hair and fingering his mouth.
“It will be my pleasure, Mrs. Sage, believe me. But, don’t think for a minute,” he said, giving me a stern rebuke, “that I did this from the kindness of my heart. I’m a cold hearted bastard that simply wants you for this lusty body. And now that I have you, you’re trapped forever.”
“Oh, you’re wrong,” I vowed, seeing the truth in his eyes.
“Well don’t expect me to be kind to you now,” he added. “All you’ll get is sex, and satisfaction. It’s what you were made for, my fine tart, and it’s what will please me.” The nasty twinkle in his eye gave away lo
ts of secrets, such as his kindness, and generosity, and utterly absolute knowledge of me.
“You know something, I think that will be enough,” I said.
I don’t think I’ll ever know how he knows the things he does about my heart and soul, and my lust; but his instincts are unfailing. I do believe, however, that I will make it a life time project to find out. I gave him a long affectionate hug, one that bound us as tightly as the scarf had bound me earlier. And for a time we drifted off to sleep, until we woke to make love again, and it was night, my wedding night.
Being with William was as natural to me as breathing, being part of him as easy as being with my own self down to the tiniest intimacies. There’s certainly more freedom in that, than in reckless abandon and untamed sexual venture. Official papers or not to bind us, I married him with my first pledges of passion. Perhaps on instinct, even then, I knew he was the only one that could satisfy my needs. I would be married to him forever.
The Barmaid & The Blacksmith
An Indelicate Arrangement
Chapter One
“Oooo Jerud!” Fiona giggled as Jerud’s hands went under her long brown skirt. She wiggled about, feeling his warm palm on her upper thigh. The more she squirmed, the higher his fingers went along the thin fabric of her underclothes. “You beast!” she blared, as she felt him at the top of the garment, about to pull at the drawstring.
“Unhand her!” A gravelly voice bellowed from behind them both, and Fiona and Jerud turned their shocked faces toward a mountain of a man in a long black coat, shiny knee high boots, wearing a threatening scowl on his full bearded face. Tempestuous eyes stared out from a countenance that suggested a past filled with all manner of experience, from the blissful to the dangerous. He was an appalling sight.
Jerud’s hand dropped from Fiona’s waist, the sound of the man’s voice whether he had any real authority to not, sent a shock of fear through the younger man. Jerud, a bright blonde man of nearly twenty-five years was hardly cowed by anything; but this curious blackguard was something to behold.
Fiona rushed from Jerud’s side.
“I’ll be right back,” she told him. And with an empty tray in hand, she returned to the bar for more ale.
The bearded scowling man nodded at her as she passed. “I’ll be serving you next, sir,” she told him.
Returning to her fiancé and his friends with their refreshment, she tried to make a swift exit, though Jerud’s hand was attempting to fondle her again.
“Stop that!” she whispered. “Behave yourself!”
“That man has no right to tell me what to do with my bride,” he exclaimed.
“I’m not your bride, yet,” she reminded him. “I have to go, I’ve work to do.”
Fiona went to her would be rescuer, who was sitting in an out of the way corner of the Half Moon Tavern.
“May I help you, sir?” she asked him pleasantly.
“A lady should watch herself with a man,” he told her, brusquely.
“He is my fiancé,” she informed him.
He looked at her circumspect, then at the chuckling Jerud, then back at the robust Fiona McTavish. Her flaming red hair was piled atop her head in lose curls that framed an eager face. Her green eyes glittered like stars, her soft bosom expanded as she breathed; the sumptuous in and out made the flesh jiggle just slightly. She had a curvaceous youthful body with a small waist and generous hips, that he could well imagine without the pile of skirts that stopped at her tiny bootclad feet.
“Nonetheless, miss, you should watch yourself with any man who would take advantage of you like that in a public place.”
“I assure you, sir, Jerud is harmless,” she countered. She cast the man a flirtatious smile, even as she thought of Jerud and she in bed. “If he only knew.”
“I thank you for your words of warning. Can I bring you anything?”
“Some ale,” he said. “Some bread and stew.”
“Right away, sir.” She seemed to skip as she moved away. Hardly eighteen, he thought. She was the kind of lusty wench he loved to bed; but her youth and innocence suggested she needn’t give herself away easily. She had a gracious charm that made her even more appealing to him than other young women of her station. It was as if she would somehow naturally rise above the mundane circumstances of her life. But why she was marrying the bawdy young man at the far side of the room, he could well understand; women of her standing had few choices in their lives. It was such a shame. She could make a remarkable companion, and likely an avid lover.
***
“So, what did the bastard say?” Jerud asked Fiona later that evening.
He was pulling his fiancée over his reclining body. His hands pulling at the strings of her blouse. He was looking for her breasts to swing loose out over him, so he could press his face against them.
“He thought I should act more like a lady,” she told him with a twinkle in her eyes. “He was hardly a bastard, much more a gentleman.”
“Gentleman, my ass!” Jerud exclaimed. “He’s a bloody blacksmith!” He had Fiona’s breasts free, his mouth bringing a pink nipple to his mouth. He sucked it hard.
“Ouch!” she cried. “You’re hurting me.” It wasn’t much of a protest. She loved the way he turned her baby soft nipples into hard purple buds.
He took handfuls of her flesh and pressed his face into the warm sweet smelling cushion. She must have pressed a honeysuckle bud to her skin, for that was the smell of her body, the lovely earthy fragrance tickled his nose with a spring time lusty fervor.
“You don’t treat me like a lady!” Fiona remarked, with a little petulant pout. She was suddenly sitting back on his groin. Even through her skirt, she could feel the familiar manhood rising under her, and she squirmed excitedly against it, as she delivered the gentle admonishment.
“I never asked you to be a lady, just my wife,” Jerud told her. He watched her naked breasts swing against her torso. “Come here, you luscious brat,” he encouraged her, as he drew her toward him again, her breasts at last dangling over his mouth. His hands moved to her waist and he pulled at the skirt, tugging to get it down so he could have her naked against him.
With a hearty shove, he had her hips free, and he pulled the skirt away, tossing it to the floor. As his mouth explored her full soft lips, his hand dove deeper to uncover the fine puss between her legs. His hands were eager to have her, as he’d had her almost nightly for the last two months.
When she at last gave into him, she gave in completely, withholding nothing. All of her fine treasures were his to enjoy. And her body bestowed on him such pleasures, with such ease. He thought he touched heaven. That two people could do the things they did together amazed him.
Feeling for the center of her sex, he stroked the feather soft plush hair of her pubis. Tugging the hair gently, she wriggled against his hand with a lilting moan of pleasure sprinkling the air with her fresh joy. He fingered her deep, where she was succulent and wet, and then pulling his hand from her cunt, he tasted her sweet juice.
“You are a nasty man!” she purred at him. He held her ass as he explored her fully, the inside of her thighs and the deep crevice of her rear, with its two tight holes. He couldn’t wait to plant himself in the lovely forward one, that danced and bobbed before his eyes with a gleeful abandon.
“Ah, my love,” she was whispering contentedly, as his cock then slipped inside her warm pulsing hole. She immediately squeezed down on the thick shaft, watching the wince appear on his face, as his body replied to the welcoming gesture.
He was hard, thick and filling, going readily to the very depths of her female home. A tiny pain shot through her, as each thrust made him hit the bottom of the channel; though it was only more fuel for the rising sensations that claimed her entire body.
Jerud watched her gently swaying form as it moved with such grace, the effect of her movement made his already stimulated cock surge all the more with the driving need. Her eyes held that dark aspect he loved so well in her, the
way she vibrated with an earthly fire. Such carnal zeal! The more he pumped her, the more she pumped him back, fast creating a climax in them both. Jerud let her take control as he always did with her on top. She maneuvered her own body to the edge, letting her pulsing pussy play its games, her hard outer bud massaged until it was ready to explode. On this day, they would almost orgasm simultaneously.
His cry was invigorating, the groaning sound that emerged from his throat and lips rose raucously into the air around them. And like inspiration from the heavens, or the earth, as the case might be, Jerud’s cry sent the final jolt through Fiona’s clamouring body. Her groan was softer, in time with the rude jerking back and forth, that finished off this making love.
Fiona collapsed against Jerud’s sweating chest. Their juices mingling in the bristling thereafter. She swayed against him, ever so gently as his hand stroked her moist flesh. Feeling the curve of her body at the waist and the swelling hips and buttocks, they clenched just a little when he caressed them.
“You are a divine creature,” he told her quietly.
“You were supposed to withdraw,” she said very kindly, though her comment was pointed.
“Ah! So what if you should get pregnant, we’re going to be married in little more than two weeks.”
“It was nice to have you finish inside me,” she said, as she knew it would also be nice not to have to take chances with their lovemaking in the future.
“It won’t matter love, we’ll have a passel of children, and I’ll screw you every night, and hold you when the babies come.”
Thinking about her fate with Jerud, Fiona was wise enough to know that half of what he said was pure nonsense. If she kept her figure, and if she hadn’t turned into a haggard shrew of a wife, she might find him, in a year or two, still loyal to her in bed. He was an exuberant man, bold, eager and very adventurous. And she had no illusions about him.
But even so, marrying him, tying herself to his fortunes was a very good thing. He was a good man at heart, and at least while it lasted, he was glorious between these sheets. She smiled to herself happily.
In the Forest of the Night & The Barmaid and the Blacksmith Page 12