“Lady Sibley, I hope I haven’t offended your sensibilities.” He followed her to the window overlooking the street. His breath warmed her neck as he spoke softly, “I thought as a widow, perhaps you would enjoy more titillating materials than the local library dare offer. Mr. Cleland’s work is nearly a hundred years old, but little has changed in the bedroom.”
Her breath was coming in ragged spurts and her mind raced. If she accepted this blatantly erotic volume, he might expect her to share her body. That thought did nothing to ease the heated tension that threatened to blast through her cool façade. She had never thought to have such an attractive offer—an heir to a marquisate, and as fine a figure of a man as she ever hoped to bed—even if he was guaranteed to break her heart. He was notorious, and he was trying to seduce her.
And what of Percival? They had an agreement. She owed him some loyalty, even if he had shown little to her.
Julian’s low voice caressed her. “I think you will find many examples of places where Mrs. Burns’ new word would fit well.” He did not touch her, but he was agonizingly close as he whispered, “Murr. Murred. Murring.” Each breath sent new thrills through her. “I’m growing fond of the word.”
She kept her back turned to him and fought the impulse to throw herself into his arms. When he receded, she felt an ache where his warmth had been.
“I see I’ve left you speechless once again, Lady Sibley. I must take my leave now, but I will call tomorrow at eleven and we can continue our discussion.”
She faced him then, and they locked eyes for a long moment. A war raged inside her—she should decline his scandalous gift and refuse to see him again, but she wanted him to embrace her and crush her breasts against his broad chest as he kissed her senseless. Dear God, she loved feeling so alive.
This incredible male wanted her. A surge of confidence buoyed her and she walked towards him with her hand extended. “You have shocked me, Lord Ahlquist, but I thank you for your gifts.”
He took her hand and drew her towards him, encircling her waist as he kissed her a second time. Another chaste kiss, but it sent tingles cascading down her entire body. “Tomorrow at eleven?”
“Yes.” He released her and she reached out to him, lightly touching his arm. “You should know, my lord, that I have an agreement with Sir Percival Hedges.”
The mirth left his handsome features. “From Oxford?” She nodded and he continued, “He’s applied for membership to the Philological Society.” His face hardened further. “He inherited your husband’s title?” She nodded again and he hissed, “That’s a bit incestuous, isn’t it?”
Her hand tightened on his wool sleeve. “Sir Geoffrey only thought to provide for me and his sister.”
Ahlquist tossed his hair and gave her a quick look from face to toes and back. “You’re too fine for Hedges.”
Her corset became unbearably tight. There was a crackling silence before he took a step towards her and drew her into his arms. Could he feel her heart pounding frantically against her rib cage, making it difficult to breathe?
This kiss was not chaste, and he pulled her fully against his strong, lean body as he urged her lips open and teased her with his tongue. She gasped at the invasion, and he withdrew suddenly.
“Tomorrow,” he growled.
“Yes,” she murmured, struggling to recapture her breath. He stared at her hungrily for a long moment before he turned and strode out the door, leaving her aching for more of him. His tongue had touched hers, the first such kiss she’d ever received, and the thrill still thrummed through her. Already she craved more of his subtle taste of cream and scones, barely masking the flavor of primal need that matched her own. This man could make me deliriously happy.
Julian tried to hide his grin as he descended the staircase slowly. Sibley’s a tempting armful.
His arousal subsided by the time he reached the foyer, and he smiled as Lewin helped him into his coat. “Does Sir Percival stay here often?”
“No, milord. He resides in Oxford. We haven’t seen him since the master’s funeral.” A hint of disapproval was evident in the butler’s disclosure.
“Isn’t this his London residence?” He accepted his hat and cane with a nod.
“No, milord. This house wasn’t entailed. It now belongs to Lady Sibley and Mrs. Pickering.” Lewin opened the door. “Sir Percival is a scholar, milord, and a very busy man. He doesn’t come to London often.”
The man’s a fool to leave such a tasty morsel unattended.
Julian fished in his pocket and withdrew a sovereign. “Lewin, is it?” The butler nodded and pocketed the coin with a hint of a smile. “The scones were excellent, thank your cook for me. I shall call again tomorrow.”
He stepped out into the frigid autumn air, where his carriage waited. Damnit, I should have canceled with Lilith. Sibley was ripe for the taking, but Lilith can make an awful scene if I upset her. Perhaps it’s time for a new mistress. One with a brain to match her beauty.
He pulled himself into the carriage and tried to turn his thoughts to his next liaison. I wonder if Lilith has a brunette wig she can wear today.
Cathryn’s breaths remained shallow as she watched the earl’s coach pull away. She rushed from the window to the settee and picked up the notorious novel. Riffling through the pages, she came to a drawing of the lovely heroine in dishabille, with her breasts exposed and her left hand circling a young man’s erection. “Fanny emboldens William,” read the caption. William certainly appeared to be a bold enough fellow, and of enormous dimensions. Geoffrey had not approached such proportions, and Cathryn wondered if Ahlquist had given her this treatise to warn her that he was such a prodigious man.
Her knees weakened at the thought, and she sat on the edge of the couch and continued her perusal of the infamous novel. Words leapt off the pages and sought her undivided attention. “Every part of me was open and exposed to the licentious courses of her hands, which, like a lambent fire, ran over my whole body, and thawed all coldness as they went.” Fanny was being seduced by a woman? Was that possible?
Cathryn was still taking in the shock of the scene when she heard Lewin open the drawing room door. Hastily, she tucked the book behind her and reclined to cover it. Her body was trembling with fervor as he added a log to the fire.
“Lord Ahlquist said he planned to call again tomorrow, and he complimented the rum scones. Shall I ask Mrs. Lewin to make them again?”
“Yes, please.” Her breathy voice betrayed her state of arousal, but he seemed not to notice as he cleared the tea tray.
“His lordship asked after Sir Percival.”
The mention of her betrothed sobered her slightly. “Did he?”
“He asked if Sir Percival came to visit often.”
“And what did you tell him?”
“I answered honestly, milady. Should I have done otherwise?”
“No. I believe honesty is our best course with a man such as Ahlquist.”
“Agreed, milady.” Lewin turned towards the door, and then paused. “If I may say, the earl seems intent on you.”
He waited expectantly, and Cathryn smiled. “Then perhaps it’s time I paid a visit to Oxford.”
He nodded agreement. “I think that would be wise, milady.”
“Thank you, Lewin.” Her butler was an excellent judge of character, and she knew he held little respect for the absent baron she was expected to marry.
“We’ll be off to do the shopping. Will you be all right on your own for an hour, or should I ask Victor to stay?”
“And keep him from visiting the grocer’s daughter? I’m not so cruel as that.” Lewin’s son was her footman, a gentle boy just approaching manhood. “I’m afraid I must ask another month of frugal spending.” She hated scrimping when she was the cause of the sacrifice. “Mrs. Pickering has finally persuaded me to purchase an evening gown.”
“You deserve some entertainment, milady. It’s been a quiet four years.”
“Yes, well, I’ll be fine al
one for the hour. Thank you, Lewin.”
As soon as the door closed, she realized that with Violet at the fitting, she indeed had the house to herself. Retrieving Fanny Hill from behind her, she trembled as she opened to another arbitrary passage. “For my part, I was transported, confused, and out of myself; feelings so new were too much for me. My heated and alarmed senses were in a tumult that robbed me of all liberty of thought; tears of pleasure gushed from my eyes, and somewhat assuaged the fire that raged all over me.”
She looked up from the book and stared into the fire unseeingly. Her breath was already labored and the space between her legs throbbed as it rarely had before. Ahlquist meant to transport her with such heated pleasure. When she closed her eyes, a vision of his handsome face played on the backs of her eyelids. His fresh scent, his subtle taste, his velvet touch, all pleased her immensely, and she yearned for the full force of his ardor, whatever that might entail.
Geoffrey had been a considerate lover, and she had come to enjoy his attentions, but he had never transported her anywhere with his dry kisses and too-few thrusts. Percival promised no more consideration. Julian set her afire with a single kiss.
She had an inkling of passion, but she found her carnal urges supremely frustrating. There were nights when she woke coated in perspiration, clenching her bedclothes impotently as she drowned in something akin to liquid lust. Some days she wandered in a fog of subdued desire, barely able to distract herself from thoughts of a virile man in her bed. Her pride prevented her from exploring her person more intimately. That seemed the province of a husband, although Geoffrey’s caresses were limited to the requirements of coupling. She’d long suspected there was much more pleasure to be found in the act of lovemaking.
Fanny Hill promised to teach her. Perhaps that was Ahlquist’s intent, to initiate her into the darker aspects of carnality. Was this the extent of his involvement, or did he plan to journey with her as she explored her erotic nature?
He’d made his intentions glaringly obvious. He would be back tomorrow to continue his seduction.
Grasping the book to her bosom, she made for the side table and poured herself a sherry. She sipped it as she stared out the window and wondered again at the earl’s actions, and her overwhelming attraction to him. Her good sense had abandoned her under his caresses, a tumult that robbed me of all liberty of thought. She would have let him do whatever he wanted. Her curiosity over what he might have done to her brought a wave of arousal that took her breath away. She wanted him desperately.
With a glance at the clock, she finished her cordial and set down the glass, wildly aware of the warmth that radiated from her throat to all her extremities. She had fifty-five minutes alone with Fanny Hill.
Trembling, she walked to the door and turned the lock. She was ready for her first lesson at Fanny’s hands, and she needed complete assurance that she would not be interrupted. She returned to the settee and opened the book eagerly, looking for the picture of the well-endowed William she’d found before. It took only a moment to find, although the other illustrations were tempting. She scanned the text on the adjoining page and found what she sought.
“When we had sufficiently graduated our advances towards the main point, by toying, kissing, clipping, feeling my breasts, now round and plump, feeling that part of me I might call a furnace mouth, from the prodigious intense heat his fiery touches had rekindled there.” Cathryn recalled Ahlquist’s attention to her, and his regard for her large breasts. She brought one hand up and brushed across her chest as he’d done. Her nipples responded as if to his touch, by coming to point and growing exquisitely sensitive. She wished she could disrobe, but this was not the time or place. Later tonight, she vowed, she would lift her nightclothes and stroke her naked breasts—after she read more of Mr. Cleland’s erotic novel.
She squeezed her right breast through her clothes, then her left. She closed her eyes and thought of Julian kissing her and touching her like this. Her breath started to come in low pants and the throbbing increased. She was ravenous for a man, a deep hunger that tore at her to feed it soon. Ahlquist could fill this need handsomely, and he was clearly ready whenever she was. She opened her eyes and the picture of William’s manhood filled her view.
Dear God, she wanted that.
Reluctantly, she pulled her eyes from the picture and moved her gaze back to the story of Fanny’s seduction. “…my young sportsman, emboldened by the very freedom he could wish, wantonly takes my hand, and carries it to that enormous machine of his, that stood with a stiffness! a hardness! an upward bent of erection! and which, together with its bottom dependence, the inestimable bulge of ladies jewels, formed a grand showout of goods indeed! Then its dimensions, mocking either grasp or span, almost renewed my terrors.”
Cathryn felt her insides clenching, but not her belly, this was lower and deeper. Ahlquist was sure to possess a mighty stiffness, or he would not have given her this book to read. He was preparing her for the glorious assault with his prodigious weapon. Her insides fairly quivered at the thought. She found the answer to the question of whether she could accommodate a larger man in the next paragraph of her teacher’s journal.
“I could not conceive how, or by what means I could take, or put such a bulk out of sight. I stroked it gently, on which the mutinous rogue seemed to swell, and gather a new degree of fierceness and insolence; so that finding it grew not to be trifled with any longer, I prepared for rubbers in good earnest.
Slipping then a pillow under me, that I might give him the fairest play, I guided officiously with my hand this furious battering ram, whose ruby head, presenting nearest the resemblance of a heart, I applied to its proper mark, which lay as finely elevated as we could wish; my hips being borne up, and my thighs at their utmost extension, the gleamy warmth that shot from it, made him feel that he was at the mouth of the indraught, and driving fore right, the powerfully divided lips of that pleasure-thirsty channel received him.”
Cathryn was in a frenzy of desire after reading this account. She imagined Julian spreading her thighs and urging her to take what she now prayed would be his Williamesque sex in her hand, so she could guide him between her swollen lips and allow him access to her most intimate place. With a glance at the door, and another at the clock—thirty-five minutes left—she laid the book down on the cushion beside her and hiked her skirts up over her knees. Closing her eyes, she imagined Julian’s hand making its way up her stockings to her thigh, and her own hand responded in kind. She lifted her skirts higher, shifted so she was as reclined as her corset would allow, and then she felt along her thigh until she came to her crisp curls. This was incredibly wicked, and she knew she should stop before she defiled herself. But she wanted to continue very badly.
Every part of me was open and exposed to the licentious courses of her hands, which, like a lambent fire, ran over my whole body, and thawed all coldness as they went.
The words rang in her head and heat enveloped her. The flames warmed the insides of her thighs and the residual burn of the sherry freed her to abandon her restraints. The cauldron of desire within her soon reached a boiling point.
With a sharp inhalation, she moved her hand upwards and touched her outer lips. The sensation was exquisite and she began to pant lightly. Her lips were slick with her juices, which invited further delicious exploration as her legs parted farther. The wetness entranced her, and she followed it into her tight breach, where the promise of more heat led her to thrust her middle finger and moan with the pleasure she felt.
In twenty-eight years she had never once delved inside herself, and a wave of shame washed over her briefly. Her hand stilled for an instant as she considered her actions.
Pleasure.
Could this be such a bad thing? Millions of women must have done what I am doing. Her curiosity overwhelmed her bout of guilt.
Julian would know what to do next, and she wished he were here now, touching her in this intimate way.
Her eyes opened and fixed o
n William’s thick cock, circled by Fanny’s emboldening hand, and she pressed deeper and felt her inner self with fascination. The wet, pliable space wanted more, wanted to be stretched wide. She added her index finger, and her thumb came to rest above, on the hood of her pearl. Soon the thumb became her focus as the sensations it evoked were beyond her experience. She withdrew her slick fingers and toyed with the virgin zone of pleasure.
Such delight did exist for a woman!
She nearly wept that it had taken her so long to seek this forbidden pleasure.
Her middle finger stroked her pearl ever firmer, and she felt her own hardness for the first time. Her own shaft of bliss. How had she not known this existed? She wanted to shout her wonderment.
Women of the world unite! Fanny will lead us all to new heights!
Her other hand now joined the game and took over the slick penetration. Cathryn felt a pleasurable pressure building inside, beyond her finger's reach, and the pressure moved forward with the force of a slow locomotive. It kept coming as she pressed deeper and stroked harder with a steady rhythm, and she could not stifle cries of exquisite delight as the volcanic pressure burst and spread throughout her charged body. Her sex clenched around her thrusting fingers, and her cries turned to moans and whimpers. An explosion of bliss nearly swept her off the couch, as wave after wave of pulsating pleasure surged through her.
When she was thoroughly spent, she tried to calm her loud panting. A whimper escaped as she extracted her fingers from their damp trappings. Her head fell back against the couch, and she explored for a last moment her exquisitely sensitive flesh. More wetness flowed from her, and she jolted when she stroked her sensitive pearl, even though it was not as hard as it had been.
Did Julian know a woman was so sensitive afterwards?
Of course he did, she thought as she slowly came to her senses. He was a man of great experience. He must know everything, even the delicious languor she was now feeling, as if all her bones had melted. No wonder Geoffrey had always begun to snore a few minutes after their brief encounters. She closed her eyes and savored the relaxation. A guilty peek at the clock eased her mind about being caught in such a shameful posture. Twenty minutes left. She straightened her petticoats and gown as she sat up gingerly.
SoundsofLove Page 3