by O. M. Grey
Just before dawn, she went to the looking glass to reprimand herself for being such a fool, just like she did every morning. She studied the lines on her face in her reflection.
At least it was still dark, for the dim glow of the candle light softened the lines on her face if she turned just right. With a little stretch of her imagination, she could look as young as she felt when she thought of him. And at the thought of him, the embarrassment was once again replaced with desire.
And so it was thus.
Back and forth. Back and forth.
Shame and lust.
The torment of true passion.
Nothing could satiate such intense desire except giving into it, she decided at last. She must have him or go mad. She would risk everything for one night with him, just a few hours. She would give up her marriage, her life, her very soul.
She would go to him tonight. He would likely think her the fool she was, but she prayed that he did not see that truth. She prayed that he would only see her desire.
That evening, she donned her cloak and slipped out into the darkness. Three weeks to the day from the brief moments they shared on that moonlight night in the garden. Three tormented, wondrous weeks.
But tonight it would end. Either her fears would be confirmed and she would be broken, or he would take her in his arms and she would finally taste his lips.
She pulled the hood of her velvet cloak far over her face as she stepped into the night, hiding her shame in its shadows. She hailed a hansom once she was far enough from her place, for she did not want to be recognized. Social ridicule on top of this most certain humiliation she could not bear.
“Kensington,” she said to the driver and climbed inside.
The journey, but just a few miles, seemed to take an eternity. And she fought with herself the entire way, vacillating back and forth, back and forth in her nervous anticipation.
Upon arrival just a block from Joshua’s home, she asked the driver to wait. She stepped out onto the cobblestone street and looked around beneath the shadow of her hood until she caught sight of a young boy cuddled up in an alley.
“Boy,” Lilah said, but the child was asleep. She placed her black-gloved hand on his shoulder and shook him gently. “Boy. Wake up!” Her voice was barely above a whisper.
The boy awoke and sleepy-eyed looked up at her.
“All-righ’, gov?” he said.
“Would you like to earn a shilling, young man?” The question did more to wake the child than her shaking had. In an instant, his eyes were bright and she had his full attention.
“Yes, mum. Please, mum!”
“Very well.” She took a coin from her reticule and placed it along with a note in his small hand. “You see that door there? The red one?”
“Yes, mum.”
“Go knock on that door. When the butler answers, give this letter to him and tell him that it is to be placed directly into Mr. Godfrey’s hand. Do you understand?”
“Yes, mum. I’ll be quick, mum!”
“Wait. Repeat that, please.”
“This letter is for Mr. Godfrey and is to be placed in his hands directly.”
“Good boy. Now run along.”
As she watched the boy dash toward Joshua’s house, her stomach became heavy with fear. It was done. There was no turning back now.
The door opened, and she pulled her hood more tightly around her face, peering out from a small hole near the top. Silly, really. As she would never be recognized from this distance. When she saw the butler nod and the boy skip off with his easy earnings, she climbed back in the carriage to wait.
She would give Joshua ten minutes, she told herself, determined to save some dignity. But she knew the truth. She would wait all night if she must, just to be sure. But he came in just over five.
“What are you doing here?” he asked as he climbed into the hansom and sat opposite her, sounding rather cross.
“I had to see you, Joshua.” She swallowed hard, knowing this entire business was too bold. Knowing she had crossed a line with this stunt, but part of her did not care. Seeing him again, this close, was worth it all.
His face twisted, as if his inner struggle matched her own.
She held her breath, waiting for the words that would save her or destroy her.
“Oh, Lilah. Curse you! I had been trying to put you out of my mind for the sake of my sanity and my marriage, but I could not.”
Lilah caught her breath. A rush of joy and fear and excitement swept through her very core. She felt nauseous and wondrous at the same time. Then her stomach felt suddenly light, because all the weight that had been filling her with dread, actually all the weight of her body, had settled most determinately between her hips. She felt herself swell for him, moisten for him.
“I have been consumed by you.” Lilah’s breath started coming fast and shallow, constrained by her corset. Her eyes fixed on his lips. Those lips. She had memorized every curve. She had imagined tasting them a thousand times, running her tongue along the fullness of his bottom lip. Now she was so close.
“Driver, Hyde Park,” Joshua called out of the window.
The carriage started to move.
“What about your wife?”
“She is asleep.”
“That is not what I meant.” The words sounded more like whispers, gasping whispers as her breath came faster and faster. Her eyes fixed on his lips, watching them form the words.
Joshua slid into the seat next to her.
“I know. What about your husband?” He did not speak the words, but rather breathed them.
His closeness robbed her of the ability to answer the question or to speak at all. The world fell away, and the only thing she saw in that darkened carriage was the passing gaslights reflect against the moistness of his lips.
The carriage swayed back and forth, back and forth as it clattered over the cobblestones. The rocking of the carriage further served to heighten her desire for him.
She must kiss him or die.
Joshua quickly closed the distance between them, but it was not fast enough for Lilah.
She met him halfway.
Their mouths came together and she tasted him at last. He tasted of honey and wildflowers, of desire incarnate. She drank him in and sucked on his lower lip, taking it between her teeth for but a moment before devouring him again. It was never soft or tender or caressing. It was ravenous from the start.
His hand moved to cradle her jaw.
A flood of desire washed over them both. His lips tasted of it.
His hand burned her face.
She took a desperate breath and kissed him even more deeply. Their eager tongues twisted together, eager for more, more, more. She had not been kissed like this in so long, so it felt completely new. His desire for her filled her nagging emptiness, but then the void just got bigger, needing more, more, more.
The heat of his mouth did nothing to satiate her need. It heightened it. All her blood rushed southward, making her pelvis feel heavier and her head light. Her hips responded by tilting, causing an arch in her back. This small movement sent Joshua into a fever, for he threw his arms around her and pressed pressed his body tightly against hers.
Weeks of building hunger would be satiated, finally. Tonight.
She tugged at his ascot, gasping for breath and cursing the need to breath. She could not bear even one moment apart from his earnest lips.
After assisting her with the removal of his ascot, Joshua put one hand on her side while the other, placed firmly in the small of her back, held her pressed tightly to him. She felt as if they would devour each other body and soul, and she did not care. For they could not be close enough without becoming one. She longed to crawl inside his skin, be consumed by him.
Then he slowed down, pulling his mouth away from hers.
A soft cry from the depth of her soul escaped her empty lips, suddenly cold without his to warm them. She looked into his eyes searching for a reason, and they smiled back
at her.
“I want to savor this,” he whispered into her ear then kissed her softly, barely brushing his lips across hers. It brought back the memory of his lips brushing her neck on that night. She had replayed every moment of that night in her mind so often that it was impossible to ever chase it from her thoughts completely.
His hand moved up her bodice and cupped her full, surging breast. He kissed her neck again, much in the way he did on their night, as if he had replayed every move as well. But tonight, that same kiss burned even hotter on her flesh, and she hungered desperately for more, more, more.
And he did not stop there. He kissed the length of her collarbone. Tiny, soft kisses. Each one drove her to madness. Each one made her catch her breath and sent quivers down her body. When his lips reached the top of her breasts, an ample amount pressed up out of her corset, her gasps turned to a soft moan.
Embarrassed, she blushed. But he smiled wide, looking up at her for a moment before meeting her lips once again, hungrier than before. With his body against hers again, he eased her back against the hansom seat in a partially reclined position. Now she felt his firm excitement pressing through her skirts and it drove her mad.
His kisses once again found their way down her decolletage and continued to the swell of her breasts. She helped him pull down one side of her dress, enabling him access to her hardened nipple. She gasped as his tongue swirled around it. He took it gently between his teeth and then sucked slowly as he withdrew, then rimmed it once again with his tongue.
Her hands, trembling, began unbuttoning his shirt. He pulled its tail out of his trousers and started unbuttoning it from the bottom up, helping her. When he met her quaking hands, he took them in his own and brought them up to his lips. His eyes locked with hers, as the carriage clattered down the cobblestone streets in the darkened carriage, rocking back and forth, back and forth.
Then something broke. They collided simultaneously into each other. Mouth, tongues, arms intertwined. She felt the heat inside spread throughout her pelvis again, moistening her lower lips. She felt them swell between her legs, ready for him. Hungry for him.
And he was ready for her. Without breaking from the passionate kiss, he parted her legs with his body then reached one hand up under her skirts and found the wetness within.
His cheeks pulled back from their kiss in his delight for a just a moment before enveloping her mouth again in a deeper kiss.
He slid his finger up into her wet darkness then withdrew to encircle her clitoris, applying slight pressure. She squirmed and moaned into his open mouth, which just made him smile again. This time, he did not come back in for another kiss, instead he pulled back from her and disappeared beneath her skirts. As his finger, then two, found her hungry opening, his tongue tasted her swollen clitoris. Round and round. In and out. Her hips swayed in time, back and forth, back and forth.
She writhed in pleasure, trying to push him away, as the intensity was so great. She had not felt such pleasure before, but it was him. It was her Joshua, so she let herself go and gave into it. His tongue licked and flicked and swirled around her clitoris as his fingers slid in and out of her more and more rapidly, curling up as he withdrew to stimulate that special place inside. She grabbed a fistful of hair as she cried out in her pleasure.
Her orgasm exploded from her, drenching his chin and hands. Yet he did not stop. His tongue moved faster and faster, alternating pressure. His fingers slowed, but did not stop. He ran his other hand down her thigh, raking it gently with his fingernails, pulling the stockings down. He abandoned her clitoris to nibble down the inside of her thighs, which proved to be even more effective than the clitoral stimulation, for she came again when his teeth reached the back of her knee.
His mouth, wet with her joy, covered hers. The taste of her own excitement made her climax again. She arched her body against his and held him desperately to her as she cried out in her ecstasy. Her entire body was on fire.
He pulled back from her, and the look on his face was one of pure delight.
She breathlessly grappled towards him with flailing hands, ripping off her gloves as she sat up, then reached for his trousers. She unbuttoned them and took his engorged penis in her bare hands. She stroked its shaft while she looked deeply into his dark eyes, reveling in the sensation of the silky soft skin of his manhood in her grasp. Then leaning forward, she took his erection into her mouth, encircling it with her swirling tongue.
Joshua moaned deep in his throat.
Lilah licked all the way down and around it, ensuring that it was well lubricated, and then hungrily stroked his cock with her wet, warm mouth. She clasped her hands around his shaft while she worked it with her mouth so that every part of it was covered in her heat and motion.
Joshua moaned again, and she had to be careful that her teeth did not nick him as she smiled. She wanted to bring him just as he had brought her to orgasm. She wanted to feel his hot semen exploding into her mouth, filling her with his delicious agony.
But he had other plans.
“Come here,” he said, lifting her up and placing her back on the rocking carriage seat.
She lifted her skirts and spread her legs, welcoming him inside.
He knelt in front of her and brushed the tip of himself up and down her wet vulva, teasing her. Lilah moaned and reached for him, trying to pull him inside of her. She had waited so long; she could not wait another moment. Yet he teased until she begged him.
“Please,” she whined. “Please, my love.”
With this, he plunged inside her, filling her up. The ecstasy of their union shot up her torso and filled her, mind and body, with pleasure. He pumped into her, the rocking of the carriage back and forth, back and forth, heightening her stimulation. As he continued to thrust deeper and deeper into her, his mouth again closed over hers, swallowing her cries of pleasure. She wrapped her arms and legs around him, vowing to never let him go. As her excitement mounted, her narrow walls tightened around him. She felt his ridged head glide across the special spot inside, moving in and out, in and out and over it at a perfect pace. She clasped to him more tightly, pressing into him as he drove into her.
Tormented desire washed over her in waves, and when she could no longer contain herself, she cried out, screaming in delight and digging her nails into his shoulders. Still he did not stop, but he slowed down as her orgasm waned. Exaggerated slow movements enabled her to feel every delicious inch of him. She relaxed for a moment, catching her breath and enjoying the delightful sensation of him, swollen inside her.
Slowly, the pressure built again, and she opened herself to him even more, if that were possible. She kissed him hungrily, pressing herself against him, bathing in his desire. Meeting each slow, deliberate thrust with the rhythm of her hips. Their kisses stopped, but their love mounted. As he moved inside her, he looked into her very soul and she looked into his. Never before had she shared such a moment of truth with anyone.
The scent of sex and sweat mingled with the dank carriage interior. His musk filled her nostrils as his tongue filled her mouth and his undulating passion filled the rest of her. The only sound was the clattering of the carriage wheels upon the cobblestones and the beating of their hearts.
Without taking his eyes off of her, he began moving faster and faster again. He grabbed onto her hips and crashed into her. Each thrust more determined, striving to go deeper than the last.
Waves of their mingled passion washed over Lilah. She held onto the carriage seat to steady herself, and he held onto her. Together their passion turned to anguish and then back to passion again. Back and forth, back and forth with the sway of the carriage. The pressure rose and her eyes saw her salvation in his. Together, their desire erupted as one.
He collapsed against her, spent. She squeezed him to her with her arms and her legs, encircling him with her love.
And the carriage rocked back and forth, back and forth.
She closed her eyes and nuzzled her face against his neck, kissing it
as he had kissed hers. For that moment, she lay against him. Warm. Content. Fulfilled. The rocking of the carriage back and forth, back and forth soothed her.
Then she was cold as if the London night forced its way between their hot bodies. When she opened her eyes, she was alone in her darkened attic.
The zeppelin fell from her forgotten hands and slid down her thigh as a tear slid down her blushing cheek.
A Tall Order
The whirring sounds of grinding espresso beans and of baristas foaming milk filled the darkened room. People sat in comfy chairs and at cafe tables sipping lattes and cappuccinos. Most were alone. Some read a book or the newspaper. Others worked on laptops. The only couple spoke in hushed tones over their cardboard-cradled cups.
The woman popped off the white plastic lid and lined up the drink opening with the green, circular logo on the front of the white paperboard cup before snapping the lid back in place. Then she turned the cardboard sleeve until its logo lined up with the logo on the cup. She took a sip and moaned in delight.
“That good?” The man smiled at her euphoric reaction, but something extra shone in his eyes as he looked at her. He had watched her little ritual with great joy, while tapping the side of his own smaller cup.
“Mmmm. Always. This is ambrosia to me. Almost orgasmic.”
“That was quite a tall order.”
“Venti decaf non-fat no-whip mocha with foam,” she rattled off before taking another sip. The smile in her eyes never faltered, and neither did the gaze she held with him. “And you,” she continued. “Just a tall black coffee?”
“With two Sweet’n Lows.”
“How do they ever keep that straight?”
The man sipped his coffee, the joy of her company radiated from his every pore. But something in his countenance changed as he placed the cup back onto the table. His eyes shot downward. It was the first time he looked away from her. His smile faded and a look of sadness shrouded his face.