“Do you want him to?” Molly asked her. “To listen to you, and take you seriously.”
Did she? “Oh yes.”
“And are you willing to show him? Bare your mind and body? Show him how his presence affects you, let him touch you, run his fingers into your channel and feel the evidence? Do all the things we spoke of?”
Flora nodded, and thought how strange, and good it was to be able to speak so freely about things that weren’t ever discussed. “I’ve thought it over and over, Molly. I was fine—well no, not fine, but almost fine—until I heard someone outside the room. Even though I knew the door was locked, I wanted; well I wanted to know we were safe. I suppose in some strange way, I wanted romance. To feel his body hard and soft next to mine, and feel him tremble if I kissed him. To be able to lay back, or whatever and experience every nuance of his touch on me, and not worry. As much as I was sure he had locked the door, and would do all that was right and good, I couldn’t relax. To get the romance I needed that, and to know I could concentrate on how I felt and what I was doing with all of me. Not with half of me waiting for a knock on the door, or a rattle at the window. Anyway,” she added in a defiant tone. “I want my first time of se...lo…oh dammit, of fucking, to be perfect.”
“Then this is what you’ll do.” Molly took the glass from Flora and set it on the table. “And you’ll do it with a clear head and no false courage.”
Flora nodded. “I am so annoyed with myself. I used explicit language, saw the way he responded, and still did nothing. Well not again. I have to show him I’m not to be trifled with. How am I going to achieve that?”
“Like this.”
***
Fraser, the Earl of Kilfron, dismissed his valet and stretched his arms high to get rid of the aches and pains gathered from a day of gentlemanly pursuits to be found in the capital. He’d be glad when it was time to return to Kilfron for a while. However, first he had to secure his bride. Not for the first time, he wondered about the scene at the Markham Ball that had ended so abruptly—just when it had been getting interesting.
What had Flora intended? The sight of her in that delectable dress, so barely covering her breasts, had caused his cock to stiffen to the point of pain, and he’d wanted nothing more than to forget where they were, and who she was, and show her what effect she had on him. When he touched her nipple, she’d responded so perfectly, it had taken all of his resolve not the lift her skirts over her head, bend her over the chair back, and fuck her from behind. Only the wonder of how far she was prepared to go had stopped him. He was enjoying himself, and interested to see what his innocent wife-to-be really wanted. More than once he doubted John’s assurance that Flora was meek and biddable. Her hair gave lie to that, apart from anything else. She’d never been overly amenable as a child, so why John supposed otherwise now Fraser couldn’t fathom.
Instead of continuing his voyage of discovery, that idiot Parry had wandered along the corridor, and Flora had bolted. Fraser had been so wound up he’d left the ball without taking up Lady Senton’s blatant offer and given himself release instead. He was going to have to do something about that situation. His mistresses were for physical release, and mutual gratification, not for smothering him. Lady Senton was beginning to get all too proprietary, and he knew that wasn’t for him. She had been fun, and he had a true affection for her. Her elderly husband knew of the affair, and had told Fraser one drunken evening that he was pleased his wife was getting satisfaction as he wasn’t able to give it to her. Which was all well and good, but Fraser had told her on more than one occasion that the affair would end when he married. It seemed she didn’t believe him.
Fraser had been told he was cold and heartless by many a person, but he knew it wasn’t true. He had proper affection for anyone he bedded, and truth be told, abhorred the way men married and still went elsewhere other than their wife for satisfaction. It may be the way of the ton, but it wasn’t his way. Once wed, he intended to be faithful to his wife, and she to him. So why, he mused as he washed and tugged a banyan over his head, had he spouted such rubbish to Flora? Just because her brother said she understood and accepted life was thus?
I’m an idiot. First for not telling her how I feel, and second for not showing her. Third for not explaining how I wanted our life to be, and fourth—he winced at one particular bruise inflicted in Jackson’s Boxing Salon—fourth for not dodging that blow from Carruthers.
Fraser shook his head at his folly, and went back into the sitting room adjacent to his bedchamber. Newton, his valet, had left port and brandy on a side table next to the fire that still burned in the grate. He poured a modest amount of brandy into a snifter. He had a lot of thinking to do, and needed a clear head. Fraser slumped into a chair and rested his chin on his chest with his brandy glass held loosely between his fingers. How could he persuade Flora to be open and tell him how she felt, especially when he hadn’t given her the same courtesy? It was a dilemma, and one he couldn’t fathom out how to solve. He closed his eyes the better to think.
It was an unexpected noise that woke him. Fraser could have sworn he’d not dropped off, but the clock on the mantle gave lie to that supposition. Over two hours had passed, and the coals in the grate barely glowed. He shivered, his bare feet were chilled, and the thin banyan was scarcely enough to warm the rest of him. At least he hadn’t spilled his port. He took a hefty swallow and put the almost empty glass down, before he stood up and made sure the fire was safe. There was no point in rekindling it, and at this hour, no point in doing anything other than going to bed. He had an early morning appointment to ride in the park with Flora, and he had hoped to talk to her about putting the announcement of their marriage in the newspaper. Now he knew he couldn’t do that before he’d explained what he really wanted, and seen if she agreed. If she didn’t, then John, the succession, and the ton could go and hang. His mind made up, Fraser doused the lamp, and made his way to his bedchamber. The curtains were open as he preferred and there was enough moonlight to see by that a candle wasn’t needed.
There was also enough moonlight to see his bed was occupied.
Chapter Five
Flora listened to the faint noises from the room next door, and shivered. She wasn’t sure whether it was excitement or fear that held her in its thrall, or indeed a combination of both. Probably the latter. Everything she’d achieved that evening had been a prelude to that moment. Firstly, the bath with a soft rose oil added to it. Then the way she made sure her quim was bare and no stray hair marred it, plus the careful cosmetics she’d smoothed over her lips and cheeks, and her lack of clothing, added to her arousal. Finally, the long cloak that she’d thrown over the chair which showed she wore that and nothing else bar stockings and red garters. Everything carefully thought out to please and arouse them both—she hoped. As she’d crept along mews and passed various stables with Flaxton, Molly’s trusted servant to keep her safe, the silk lining of the garment had caressed her body and increased her arousal. Her juices had gathered at the top of her thighs, and with no curls to collect them had slicked her quim and coated the soft skin around it. She grinned in the darkness. Who knew that to be naked under such an enveloping garment could feel so liberating and good?
Flaxton, had kept up a brisk pace, and once pulled her under the shelter of a tree as the watch went past, and again behind a wall as three somewhat bosky gentlemen ambled by. By the time they had reached the back gate to Fraser’s London residence, she’d been flushed even without cosmetics, and ready to walk gratefully up the stairs and into the room where she’d been told to go. She wondered how Molly knew all those important details, but thought it polite not to enquire. As she’d been informed, the bedchamber was empty, and Flora had debated whether to wait dressed—if you could call a cloak and stockings dressed—or in bed, where hopefully it would be harder to demand she leave.
She chose the latter, and all went well until she kicked the chamber pot—luckily empty—and it rattled against the side of the bed leg.
She scrambled under the covers and pulled them up to her chin, straining to listen to what was happening in the other room. The door hinge squeaked as it was used, and footsteps creaked the floorboards as Fraser—well, she presumed it was Fraser—made his way across the room.
Flora rubbed her thighs together as she waited for him to reach the bed. Her pulse beat irregularly and her mouth was dry. What would he do or say? She realized she wasn’t scared. That the goose bumps and pins and needles on her arms were of excitement not fear, and the quivering in her channel was of need and arousal.
“Well, well, what have we here? Not Goldilocks,” a familiar voice drawled as it referred to a story told to her by the poet Mr. Southey not long before. The covers were pulled back and Flora looked up into the glittering eyes of her—she hoped—soon to be lover. “For the hair on the head is red and the hair on the cunt is not there, it’s all bare. How perfect, a present for me, and it’s not my birthday. How do I open it?” He ran his finger from her nose to her breasts and pinched each nipple lightly. “This is perfection indeed.” He bent and kissed each nub and laughed softly at her inhalation.
“You like that,” he said. It wasn’t a question, and Flora didn’t answer. She wasn’t sure she’d be able to speak coherently as the tug on her senses grew.
Fraser trailed his hand over her belly and the familiar tingle inside her grew larger. This time it was different because she wasn’t the one who created it. As he reached her quim, she gasped. He stayed the movement and look up into her eyes, his expression unfathomable. “It’s not too late to say no.”
It was; it was much too late. Her body was on fire, and she needed to discover how to put the fire out. “Don’t you dare stop,” she muttered and he laughed again even as his fingers circled her quim and rubbed the tiny nub there. She was so wet, and his muttered “mmm” as he dipped one finger into her channel sent stings of desire all over her body.
Flora arched toward him. “Ah, so good. Fraser. I need to know.”
“Know what? Tell me, Flora, show me what you want.” His finger moved in her, and yet more stings and tingles enveloped her. She began to lose the ability to speak, let alone think. What had he asked?
“What? Ah, everything, I have to experience everything.” Her tongue seemed to have developed a mind of its own, and she had trouble forming her words.
He moved so fast she didn’t have time to look and admire his body as he pulled the banyan over his head and stretched out on his back next to her.
“Then take what you need.” He spread his hands out wide.
What? He expects me to touch him? How, I wonder? She decided that perhaps to mimic some of his actions would be acceptable. But she was naked, and so was he, what if? Stop thinking and just do something. Before she had a chance to change her mind, Flora scrambled onto her knees and knelt by his side. As she dipped her head her hair brushed his chest and he groaned. She pulled back in alarm, but he grabbed her arm.
“Oh no, don’t stop. I’m interested, very interested to see what happens next.” He rubbed her arms in a soft soothing manner. “That gentle caress had to be the prelude to so much more. Touch me, as you like to be touched.” He guided her hand to his chest. “I promise you won’t give me pain—not in a bad way.”
Emboldened by his words and actions, Flora circled the dark male areolae one by one, and pinched his nipples in much the same way he had done to her. His eyes deepened in color as the nubs hardened under her touch.
“More.” Just one word, designed to make her feel empowered. She bent her head again and laved the area with her tongue before taking one nub into her mouth and grazing it with her teeth. It was his turn to gasp.
“Heaven.”
She had to agree with him. Each touch she gave him made her ever more excited, and her juices increased, to coat her thighs. She shifted her body, and he grasped her waist to hold her closer, until she was half on top of him. Something hard pressed against her side. She did a mental inventory of where she was and realized his cock was rubbing her.
“I think my pego is ready for you, my dear. Eager and in dire need of attention.”
Flora took a swift glance downward and then looked back up to his face. He was correct. She wasn’t sure she was ready to take his prick in hand yet. In the moonlight, Fraser’s eyes glittered and the smile he gave her was one of encouragement. “Don’t give up now, my love. Finish what you’ve started.”
That was the problem, what had she started? “I don’t know how,” she said. “Will you show me?”
“For someone who doesn’t know how, you have a gift beyond price,” Fraser answered her, his voice deep and smooth, like liquid chocolate. “My body is oh so ready to fuck. I would very much like to feel you around me, to feel my cock deep inside you, and bring us both to climax. However, there are a couple of things that need clarifying first.”
There was? Flora wasn’t sure she liked the sound of that. The deep grey eyes now had a hint of steel in them, and his mouth had firmed. How he could turn from lazy-eyed lover to this implacable dominant male she wasn’t sure. She pulled back to kneel on her knees and Fraser didn’t stop her.
“I also wish to understand something.” She did her best to sound in control of herself, and not a quivering mass of need.
“Like what?”
She guessed the loud thumping she could hear was her heart as she decided how to reply. “Why do you want to marry me? Why me and not any other acceptable female? What makes you think I’m the right person for you? To bear your children, continue the line, and to do all your countess should.” Would he answer her? If he did, would it be what she wanted to hear?
The silence lasted for all of the count of thirty noisy heartbeats. Flora began to worry. Had she done everything wrong? She began to edge backward. He shot out his hand and caught her unaware and she toppled forward onto his hard body once more. His cock wedged between them and tickled her quim. Then he smiled slowly as he rolled her under him, and looked down on her as he rested on his elbows. The scant inch between them heightened her arousal, until her body was a mass of tiny pin pricks and ripples.
“Because I only want you, have only wanted you since you so prettily asked me to marry you all those years ago. Hell, I’ve waited with as much patience as I could muster. So many years as I watched and hoped no other would catch your eye. The older you grew, the prettier you became, the harder it was for me to stand back and wait. But I promised John I would let you grow without preconceived ideas of your future. No longer, let me show you.” He knelt up, and grasped her ankles.
Her legs were parted as he placed one foot on each of his shoulders. Flora watched wide-eyed, her throat tight, and her mouth dry as he took hold of his cock and stroked it slowly from glistening tip to hard balls. She bit her lip. His prick was so big, its purple head slick with his juice, and the veins along its length stood out and beckoned to her.
“Are you ready?”
Chapter Six
Was she? Fraser watched the myriad of expressions chase across her face, and hope to Hades none were negative. Truth be told he was so aroused it was hard to decipher them. He had scarcely dared hope she would respond in such a positive way.
She lifted her hips and pushed her quim nearer. “What do you think?”
His cock twitched under his fingers, and his pre seed increased. He wasn’t sure he could think as he guided his cock to the entrance of her channel and let it rest there.
Flora’s eyes were so wide and their green irises flecked with gold sparkled in the candlelight. They reminded him of the delicate Meissen China his mama had adored. She wet her lips with her tongue, and Fraser had a quick thought of how he hoped one day to feel her do that to his prick.
“Please, Fraser, don’t make me beg.” She used her hands to lever her body ever higher.
“Oh no, not beg, my love, not now. Leave your legs where they are and rest back on the mattress. This may hurt.” He used the tip of a finger to push inside her channel and ga
uge how ready she was. Very ready.
Her muscles tightened around him, and she gasped. “Oh yes, but I need more.”
So did he. With nowhere near enough finesse, but the best he could achieve when his body trembled with the need to be inside her, Fraser once more held his cock and guided it toward her moist heat “I can’t be gentle, even though I know I should.” His arms trembled with the effort of staying upright. He pushed in more, and to his delight their natural wetness worked in his favor. She opened to him like a flower bud as it unfurled to seek the sun. Her eyes clouded and her sensuous moan was all he could ask for.
“More.” The words were slurred but the meaning obvious. “Now, Fraser.” She gripped his waist and nipped his skin just short of pain. That little sting was enough to encourage him to surge forward and embed his cock another inch or so, before he came up short against the proof of her innocence.
“Why have you stopped? I thought you went further?” Her face was flushed in the soft light.
“It may hurt,” Fraser said as he held back. “I need to push through your...” He paused as he wondered how best to prepare her. He needn’t have hesitated. She gave a breathy laugh.
“Of course, make me a woman. I have been told it’s a short pain and oh so worth it.”
He moved before she had time to change her mind. The barrier was flimsy and he pushed through in one decisive thrust. Better to take her unaware than drag the pain out. Her eyes dilated and clouded as she took one short deep shuddering breath. Fraser held himself back by sheer determination to allow her to become accustomed to the intrusion of his staff. As her breathing slowed and her eyes cleared he began to move ever so slowly inside her.
Miss Simpkins School: Flora Page 3