by Tessa Candle
The sound of his beautiful voice in the darkness made her shivery. She lifted up her skirts, and guided his hand to her womanhood. She was already wet.
“Oh you dear, dear goddess. You are a fountain of ambrosia.”
“I have been thinking of you all through dinner. What do you propose to do about it?”
He began to stroke her. She gasped. “Oh God yes.”
He dropped his pantaloons and guided her hand to his member. It was hot and fully erect. “I propose that I thrust this into you repeatedly until you scream—but not too loudly.”
“I believe that is one proposal I can accept immediately.”
The possibility of being discovered made it more exciting, as he continued to tease her, and then began to stroke her with his throbbing manhood.
“Oh yes, give me more!”
He lifted her up by the waist and pinned her to the wall, thrusting his cock into her part way. “Are you all right, my angel?” he gasped.
“I shall be even better when you give me all of you.”
So he did, thrusting into her slowly at first, and when she moaned with pleasure driving her a little harder, a little faster, until he was sure the whole household must be able to hear the thumping on the wall.
But he didn't care. She was so hot and wet and beautiful, he could smell the sweet honey scent of her hair and he had to hold back.
She began moaning and gripping his buttocks to pull him closer, deeper inside of her. It was all he could do to hold on until he heard her stifled scream, “Oh Thomas, God yes!” and felt her shudder with pleasure.
Then his whole mind turned to steam and he let himself go, thrusting so hard and fast that her head shook.
“Oh God! I love you!” He thrust deep inside her, filling her with his heat until he had no more.
He held her there for a while, and then they both collapsed, giggling, onto the floor.
“Shhhh. We must hurry, my love.” He kissed her. “Let us get ourselves straightened before your parents come through.”
Chapter 58
Beams of morning light filled the chapel at Nesterling Lodge as the happy couple left through an archway of ivy ornamented with white roses. Lydia wished that she felt more sentimentality about the wedding.
She loved the wedding present her father had given her before the ceremony. It was a fishing rod from his collection, the one he had lent her when he tried to teach her to fish before her second season in town.
“Something borrowed,” he had said. She would never forget the tears glistening in his eyes as he gave it to her. She had kissed his cheek and promised him they would go fishing together every summer.
Yes, her heart was moved by the cluster of family and friends who assembled to see them wed and wish them joy, but she could not help feeling a little sad that she no longer had that sense of romance about it.
The wedding was merely another obstacle in the excruciatingly long process of getting to be alone with Thomas, to having his luscious body all to herself. No more stolen moments. White dresses and floral arrangements be hanged.
Tilly and Rutherford walked behind them. Her dear friend kissed Lydia before she was handed up to the glistening coach, now sporting the Aldley colours. “I wish you great joy, Lady Aldley,” Tilly whispered. “Although it be entirely unnecessary for me to do so.”
“Thank you, my good friend, but I am always Lydia to you. And I could not be happier, now that this blasted wedding is finally done with.”
“I doubt that. You will go from bliss to ever greater bliss.” She gave a little quirk of the mouth.
Lydia put a hand on Thomas' shoulder, smiled at him and then drew Tilly aside, where they would not be heard. “You have equipped me well for blisses. I must thank you, again, for that book, and for explaining so much to me. But tell me, truly, some of those positions are simply impossible, are they not? The authors must have been having a lark.”
Tilly pulled a face and said, “The one on page forty-seven absolutely must be, I think. But who knows? With a contortionist anything might be possible.”
Lydia laughed. “And do people actually talk that way during bed sport?”
“That and worse,” Tilly assured her. “Or better, depending upon how you look at it. But as you are now married for better or for worse, I suppose you may say whatever makes you happy.”
Lydia sighed, “I am already very happy.”
Tilly looked mischievous. “Perhaps I could augment that happiness just a little by telling you that it appears a grave misfortune has befallen your enemy.”
“Whatever can you be speaking of?”
“Mr. Delacroix has been abducted.”
Lydia squinted in disbelief. “How is it possible?”
“He seems to have been not entirely unwilling,” Tilly's lips curled. “For he stole all the jewellery and half of the silver in his brother's home before the event.”
“But who on earth...”
“Miss Dervish, if you can believe it.”
“Miss Dervish!” Lydia shook her head for several moments. “Now I think I must be dreaming.”
“You are a countess now, so I shan't make free to pinch you. You are not dreaming, but it seems that the young lady's circumstances are not at all what we were led to believe.”
“No?”
“And what is better,” Tilly laughed, “Mr. Delacroix will soon discover they are not what he was led to believe either. He thinks he has pulled the wool over her eyes by stealing his brother's valuables so he can appear flush with blunt when he sells them off. He thinks he is marrying an heiress.”
“But she is not?” Lydia prompted.
“She is a common swindler. Well, an uncommon swindler, if we take her beauty into account. She simply does not look like a commoner. Nor does she sound like one, so I think she must be quite clever. But she was found out and had to leave London hastily, but made a stop at Dunston. Mr. Delacroix has disappeared, whisked off in her carriage. Genevieve is quite beside herself, but my brother has consoled her by letting her pick out a wardrobe of fur capes.”
“No doubt she will exercise all the elegant restraint of good taste.” Lydia pressed her lips together. “But was Delacroix not still too ill to travel?”
“I suppose if he were well enough to rob his brother's house, he is sufficiently recovered for a little travelling. In any case, it is hard to say where he will show up, but even if she were an heiress, she could never marry him.”
“Why not?”
“Because the man posing as her father is actually her husband!” Tilly broke out laughing loudly, then remembering where they were, hushed herself. “Is that not perfect? I suppose swindling people is the family business. But why do you frown so? Is this not highly diverting news?”
Lydia crossed her arms. “I am just wondering if you are planning on chasing after him and marrying him off to one of your cousins.”
“You are tiresome harping on about that. But not at all, I assure you. Mr. Delacroix is beyond my redeeming. He is what we do-goods call incorrigible.”
“I am greatly relieved to hear you say it.” Lydia smiled and kissed her friend's cheek. “I believe I may permit myself to be diverted now.”
“Well, then, off with you. You have an heir to conceive.” Tilly wiggled her brows for good measure.
“I believe I shall need a good deal of practice first.” Lydia smiled at her friend as though butter would not melt in her mouth, and then returned to the carriage to let herself be handed in.
Aldley was drumming his fingers as she entered. “Well, I seem always to be waiting for you, darling. You are very cruel.” He drew her into his lap and wound a ringlet of her hair around his finger.
In reply, she only kissed him very deeply.
When they were safely across the threshold at Alderwick Manor and locked into their chambers that evening, she pulled a book out of her trunk and handed it to him. “It is my wedding gift to you.”
“A book?” He began to
leaf through it, and a flush came to his cheeks.
“Not the book so much as the contents of the book.” She pulled the pins out of her hair.
“Oh really? You are familiar with the contents of this book?” He reached out and assisted her until he was rewarded by cascades of thick red curls tumbling wildly about. A stupid grin spread over his face.
“I have been diligently doing my research so that I might be a good wife.” She gave him a chaste little smile.
“You are so dutiful. I might call it pious, if it did not make me want to rip this wedding dress off of you and tie you up with it.”
In reply she turned to expose her lacing to him. “By all means. I shall not be needing it anymore.”
He removed her dress and under-things a little more roughly than he intended, but it seemed to spark a fire in her, for she began hungrily unfastening his pantaloons.
When they both stood naked, he gently grazed his finger over her skin, skimming her nipple before tracing her womanly curves down to the pert muscles of her buttocks. He massaged them for a while, then he grasped her hips and turned her over so suddenly that she gasped.
He bent her over the bed, spreading her open, rubbing the tip of his member into her, then moving it in a circular motion until she was dying of anticipation.
“So wet. Such a naughty little countess.”
“Oh yes, very naughty. You cannot imagine the thoughts I have been having. And in the chapel, too.”
“Shall I punish you?”
“Oh most certainly. You should apply the rod to me mercilessly. For I deserve it.”
“Oh yes, yes you do.” His voice was hoarse, and his cock grew even harder.
She could feel the heat between her legs respond to the hardening of his member, boiling over with wanting all of his length and force inside of her.
“But you also deserve this.” He reached his hand around to massage that spot on her to which he always resorted. It seemed he could find it by instinct.
She moaned with pleasure. “Oh please, give it to me.”
“You mean this?” He entered into her about half way.
“Oh yes please.”
“You want me to fuck you, my countess?”
“Ride me hard.”
He thrust into her then, so hard and deep that she gasped.
“More.”
“Patience, my darling.” He pumped her slowly and massaged her fast.
“Oh god, yes. Fuck me faster!”
He did not restrain himself further, thrusting into her harder and faster, moaning out loud.
She screamed a feral sound of ecstasy and he entered once more throbbing and spreading his seed inside her.
“Oh god, yes, yes, give it to me.”
He could only grunt in reply. Her warmth and her wetness made him want more. His member began to get hard again while he was still inside of her.
“Oh my angel.” He kissed the back of her neck. “You drive my body mad. Are you comfortable down there?”
“Exceedingly.”
“Good. Don't move.” He began thrusting into her again, and massaged her so vigorously she made little jumps and shrieks, then he began pounding into her so hard she could feel her wetness and his flying around in the air where they conjoined.
When he shot his seed into her the second time, she screamed along with him. He lay still for a while, panting and shaking. Then slid out of her, picked her up and lay her gently on the bed, kissing the entire length of her body. “I love you. You are a goddess.”
She sighed happily. “They will have to burn these sheets, you know.”
“I do not care. Tomorrow I intend to destroy this bed entirely while having congress with my beautiful wife. But for now I am exhausted.” He wrapped his arms around her, and fell asleep.
She would let him rest for a while, she decided. But she was not waiting until morning to get astride him. He would wake up to the ride of his life.
Chapter 59
The carriage rolled down the well-kept road to Alderwick Manor, as the Earl and Countess of Aldley returned home from their honeymoon. Lydia peered out the window to enjoy the view of the vast forested lands of which she was now mistress.
She could see smaller paths running within the trees, sometimes joining up with the road, sometimes disappearing into the deep shadowy greens of oaks and firs. It would be glorious to ride Ari over such long runs.
Though she supposed she would have to give up that amusement soon, at least for a time. In fact, she was very grateful for the excellent suspension of the vehicle, for even on good road she found that her body registered the jouncing motion of the carriage much more than before.
The honeymoon on the continent had been everything she imagined, but it was good to be returning to her new home, where she was sure she would continue to enjoy her husband as much as ever.
“Are you glad to be coming home, my darling countess, or shall you miss travelling?” Thomas played with one of her curls.
“I have enjoyed every moment of our trip, but I admit, I am looking forward to settling down and seeing friends and family again.” She stretched her legs. “And I miss Ari.”
He nibbled her earlobe. “Well, at least he will be pleased that you have stayed in practice with your riding while you were away.”
She smiled. “Your riding skills are also improving. But I think I am still a little better at it than you.”
“You are my idol in all things, so I shall not contradict you.” He pulled her into his lap, so she could feel him growing hard against her buttocks. “But I guess that just means I need more practice, you wicked little filly.”
“Mmm. The wicked little filly could eat your carrot before we reach the manor.”
“I love the way you think, darling, but perhaps we should wait until we are home. I should rather you emerge from the carriage with a face that is radiant, not glistening. The servants are well trained, but we ought not try to shock them.”
“Very well. But in the future, we shall have to train the servants to mind their own affairs.”
“They are very good at that, I assure you.” He grinned. “I shall give them instructions to serve dinner covered in the rooms annexed to our bed chamber. We shall dine privately at our leisure, and ring for them to clear.”
“A sensible arrangement. We need to keep up our strength, after all.”
“Oh yes.” He looked as though he were about to pull her in for a serious kiss, when the coach turned onto the long driveway of the manor. “Well, my love, it appears you will have the luxury of a softer surface than these coach seats when I take you for a riding lesson.”
“Oh indeed!” Her tone was prim. “You cannot tousle me just anywhere now, you know.”
“Hmm?” He ground against her buttocks. “Are you going to become prudish now that we are back from the continent?”
“Not at all. If anything, more demanding. But in the near future I may not be quite as flexible as I have been.”
“Really?” He tilted his head. “May one enquire why?”
“One may. It is because I am greatly of the suspicion that your child may not be so obliging as I am. Taking after the father, it would seem.”
“Are you saying? Are you sure?” His face gleamed with hope.
She shook her head. “Of course I am not sure, but I am late, and when I consider our marital amusements for these past months, it almost seems impossible that I should not be with child.”
He embraced her, stroked her hair, kissed her head and put his hand to her belly. “You marvellous creature! Just when I thought I could not be any happier! This is wonderful. I only wish we could announce it right away. Of course we cannot, but I admit I should like to hire a herald just to parade around the village shouting of our happiness.”
“That would be very bad form, and also bad luck,” she laughed. “I am glad you are happy. So am I. But calm yourself. And stop petting my belly. It is far too soon for that.”
“Do
not be so prickly. You cannot know how my heart is pounding.” He practically bounded out of the carriage as the door was opened, then turned to lift her out, holding her across his arms. “Decorum be damned, I am going to carry you, Lady Aldley.”
“Silly man, put me down. You will embarrass the servants.”
“Oh, now you are concerned?” But he obliged her and put her down exceedingly gently.
Then kissed her head, took her arm and walked with her to Alderwick. A large grin of pride spread across his face at the thought of bringing his beloved countess and his future child across the threshold of his ancestral home.
Lydia smiled up at Thomas and felt a great internal contentment that she was making the man that she loved so happy. Joy filled her heart at the sight of his handsome, beaming face, and she knew he would be a wonderful father.
Her plans to get back to business in London could wait a few days.
Afterword
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And then, turn the page and read a little snippet from Book 2 in Parvenues & Paramours, Mistress of Two Fortunes and a Duke…
Sample Chapter 1
Tilly Ravelsham smiled at the rays of morning light peeking from the corner of the window, passing through the crystal jars on her table and casting little rainbows about the room. One of them played mischievously across the nose of Mr. Rutherford, her paramour, who was dozing beside her. She grinned and fought the urge to wake him by kissing it.
It was the first time in a month she had slept in her own bed. She loved Amsterdam, but this last trip had been exhausting, in part because it was dominated by tedious visits with her fiancé's puritanical grandfather. And then they had carted him back to London.