The Accidental Bride (Black Lace)

by Portia Da Costa

  ‘So, Milady Lizzie of Dalethwaite Manor, are you up for it?’ John growled, sneaking his hand under her T-shirt and cupping her breast imperiously. ‘It’s been bloody agony all today, keeping this rogue in check …’ he swirled his hips ‘… while watching you swan about looking like a sex goddess. It makes life very difficult for us lower orders who adore you.’

  Ah, it was like that, was it? As he kissed her again, Lizzie smiled inside, remembering a game they’d once played, not all that long ago, in this very room.

  ‘You’re a very vulgar and forward ruffian, you are. Getting above your station, my lad,’ she reproved him, laughing as she reached down and took a less than ladylike hold on his cock. God, it was like iron. She was amazed he’d managed to keep it under control for so long, but then he did have special powers. ‘And as for this?’ She gave him a little squeeze. ‘Rubbing this disgusting object against me, what are you thinking? Have you no respect for your betters?’ She tightened her hold, infinitesimally, prompting a happy moan.

  ‘I’m sorry, ma’am. I can’t help myself. I’ve been checking out your tits and your bum and your sumptuous thighs for hours.’ He rocked his hips, pushing himself against her hand. ‘It tends to have this effect on me. I don’t know why.’

  He closed his finger and thumb on her nipple, rolling it, taunting it.

  ‘Uh oh, behave yourself!’ she said sharply. The authoritarian effect wavered a bit, though, and she gasped when he did it again, her own fingers releasing his erection. ‘Paws off, underling!’

  ‘But, ma’am, I thought you were enjoying it?’

  ‘I shall enjoy what I want to enjoy, and in my own good time. Now strip off and show me the goods, you insolent pleb!’ She needed breathing space, or she’d be throwing open her legs to him without any preliminaries, and surely an engagement – of sorts – deserved a little more than that to mark it!

  And one should never waste the opportunity to make John undress for her.

  ‘Of course, milady.’ His grin was facetious. Adorable.

  John sat up in bed and unbuttoned his pyjama jacket, making quite a performance of each button, and of the way he slowly parted the panels and slid the thing off his shoulders. Lizzie’s fingers tingled with the urge to grab at him, he was such a feast. Body lean, yet strong, lightly golden. Mm, that little dusting of sandy hair on his chest. Mm, mm, mm, that enormous tent in the cotton fabric of his pyjama bottoms.

  ‘Come on. Move it! Stop teasing,’ she instructed, clenching her fist, out of his sightline, aching to reach for him again.

  ‘Are you sure? It’s not really the sort of thing for a refined lady’s eyes, you know?’ Slowly, slowly, John ran his tongue over his lower lip, making Lizzie nearly launch herself bodily at him.

  ‘I’ll be the judge of that.’

  ‘Very well, milady. If you’re quite sure.’ His eyes were dancing. His long fingers splayed across his crotch, highlighting the offending object, not masking it.

  ‘I’m very sure. Now stop shilly-shallying about.’ She tried to give him a haughty look, but it came out as a grin. A grin and a leer of female hunger.

  With a sinuous grace that Lizzie genuinely envied, John unknotted the cord of his pyjamas, lifted his bottom from the bed, and slid the garment down. The action made his cock bounce up as it was released, swinging in pure temptation.

  ‘Good grief, man! Have you no control over that thing?’

  ‘None whatsoever, ma’am. It gets that way every time I’m anywhere near you. I have to nearly hypnotise myself to make it go down.’ His gaze locked on hers, and he laid his fingers on himself, slowly stroking, and fondling. Showcasing. Proud of his body.

  He was raw temptation. Like a male odalisque, presenting himself to her, nominally passive and yet infinitely powerful. She’d never quite control this fabulous man, no matter what game they played, and she didn’t want to. His dominance was perfect to her, based as it was in infinite kindness and humanity.

  ‘Are you sure you don’t want to touch it, ma’am?’ His grin was wicked, as irresistible as the sturdy reddened flesh in his grip. ‘A bit of noblesse oblige for the poor randy serf?’

  Tweaking her shawl around her as if she were trembling in horror, Lizzie gave him a stern look, while at the same time extending an experimental finger. ‘I really don’t know. It looks a bit of a monster, to be honest. You country types always have whoppers. I can’t imagine how you could possibly get that … um … thing, where it’s supposed to go. It looks far too large for purpose.’

  John’s cock was as hard as tropical wood. Hot. Full of intense male energy, even though he still held it so lightly. He let it rest in his palm, as if he were indeed her feudal underling offering his tribute to her. Lizzie ran her fingertip up its length, right to the sticky tip. Pre-come bathed the rounded head, colourless silk making it shine.

  ‘Ah, but even a delicate lady like you should be able to accommodate it, ma’am. It might be worth a try, if you were so inclined to sample it.’ John’s long dark eyelashes fluttered as she flicked her fingertip around the under-groove.

  ‘It’s so large and crude.’ She folded her fingers around him in a firm grip again, loving the bareness where before there’d been cotton cloth. ‘I really don’t know why you think I’d subject myself to it, you impudent peasant.’

  ‘Because you ladies of the manor are all alike.’ His fingers closed around hers, taking control of the grip. ‘You flounce about acting all refined, and complaining about men being crude and animal … but really you love it! You can’t get enough. You’re insatiable.’ Their gazes locked. Lizzie’s heart revved up. Desire ground like a stone wheel in her belly. ‘It’s no wonder your husbands have to take the whip to you sometimes, or spank you.’ His tongue snaked out again, sly, and provoking. ‘Fiancés too. If they’ve any sense, they’ll start as they mean to go on. Lay the law down before their womenfolk get too bossy. Or too randy.’

  ‘I don’t know … That sounds barbaric!’ God, he was getting stiffer by the moment. His entire body was a column of heat and strength, radiant. She had him in the palm of her hand, but in the greater sense, he had her in his. Exactly where he wanted her.

  ‘Oh, I don’t think so. I don’t think you think that at all, milady.’ John’s eyes glittered. His whole demeanour was sultry, but tricky. ‘I think you like a strong man to sort you out. Someone to take you in hand.’

  ‘Impertinence!’

  ‘No. Truth,’ he purred, his voice soft yet rough. He reached down and unwound her fingers from around him, then, swift and confident, he caught both her hands in both of his and pressed her back against the pillows, holding her arms above her head by the wrists. Imposing himself upon her, he used his lean form as a full body caress, nipping at her throat, her jaw and her ear as he massaged his bare cock against her still-covered thighs.

  ‘You like that, don’t you, milady?’ he sighed into her ear, still rocking. ‘You like having some poor, besotted man do all the work for you, half out of his mind with lust?’

  ‘Yes. I do,’ she gasped back at him, her hips rocking against his.

  ‘I thought so.’ John laughed, a low happy sound, and with a last nip at her ear, he sat up. Lizzie made as if to sit up, and wriggle out of her clothes – she was wearing far too many – but he admonished her, ‘Oh no you don’t, Miss High and Mighty. Stay exactly where you are. Don’t move a muscle.’

  ‘But, J-’

  ‘But nothing.’ He silenced her with another fierce, possessive kiss, and a hard thrust of his tongue, then sat up and cast around for his pyjama bottoms. What was he up to? Of course, they were the classic, English gentleman’s kind, and she watched him unthread the cord from the waistband, then pull it taut before her eyes as if exhibiting its sturdy, unsnappable quality.

  Lizzie quivered, tingling goose-bumps of anticipation popping up over her skin.

  He was going to bind her. Her servant-lover had become her lord and master in the blink of an eye, and he was going to secure her.
So she couldn’t touch him, but he could make free with her. Handle her. Pleasure her.

  Quickly, deftly, he looped the cord loosely around her wrists, and threaded it through the brass bed-rails. Smiling and triumphant, he knelt at her side, a figure both divinely beautiful and obscene with his ruddy, jutting erection poking up from his groin. Lizzie’s mouth watered, longing for a taste of him, yearning for the chance to worship him with her lips and tongue.

  His glance followed hers. ‘I might let you. If you’re a good girl.’ Slowly, insolently, he fondled his cock, his head falling back as he worked himself and savoured the pleasure of his own touch.

  ‘Please, John.’

  The words were breathy. What was she asking for? For him to touch her? To let her suck him? For him to fuck her? All of those, probably, but the anticipation was suddenly agony. She needed … everything.

  He went on stroking himself for a moment or two, shimmying a little, then, with his hand still on his flesh, he returned his attention to her.

  ‘Very well, one little suck, then.’ He moved up close to her, sliding a hand beneath her head, cradling and lifting it gently up from the pillow, then inclining half across her, to present the head of his cock to her lips. ‘But don’t go mad. I’m not ready to come yet.’ His eyes narrowed as he looked down on her, dark lashes drifting low as his silky glans pressed against her mouth. ‘You’ve driven me crazy all day, sashaying around as lady of the manor, so now I’m going to drive you crazy too, and make you wait.’

  Holding her head in one hand, bracing himself on the bed-rail with the other, he pushed in, a shallow, measured thrust.

  Lizzie squirmed her hips, even though he held her face still. He tasted clean and salty and wonderful. The head of his cock was heavy on her tongue, feeling even bigger than it actually was, its presence his complete ownership – albeit temporarily – of her.

  ‘Give me some tongue.’ His voice was rougher. He seemed to swell. He was so close that his body was her world.

  She was dominated by the thrust of his erection, the sleek shape of his narrow hips, his smooth skin, toned muscle, and the pubic hair, sandy gold. Obedient, she licked and lapped at him, but mindful of his instructions she controlled her urges. Difficult, because she wanted to suck him dry.

  Laughing and groaning, he cursed, turning the air blue. He called her names, but every word, every profanity, was bright with joy and love. His love for her.

  ‘Enough!’ he cried, as, gasping, he jerked his hips, forcing her to relinquish him. Lizzie’s eyes nearly crossed. His cock was huge in front of her face, shiny where she’d anointed him. ‘You’re too damn good at that, milady … trying to get the better of me.’ He flashed her his devil of a grin and lunged forward, taking a rough, wild kiss. He’d be able to taste himself on her lips and the thought of that turned her on even more.

  It probably turns you on too, you kinky sod!

  ‘I’ve got to have you, love,’ he said more gently, peppering softer kisses across her face, circling her lips with them. ‘I’ve got to finish in you.’ More kisses. Her jawline now, and her throat. ‘But I’ll get you off first, beautiful girl. It’s the least I can do for my fiancée.’ He winked at her, then started his way down her body, pushing up her T-shirt above her breasts, his mouth skipping over the bunched cotton to naked skin again, kissing and tasting as he went.

  ‘I should think so too!’ she protested, then wriggled wildly again when his mouth latched on to a nipple, sucking hard. ‘Aren’t …? Aren’t you going to unfasten me?’ She rattled the bed-rails as he slid his hand into her pyjama bottoms and cupped her pussy, squeezing hard as he assailed the tip of her breast with his naughty tongue.

  ‘Oh, in a little while,’ he replied, then lapped her teat, and nipped it, making her legs flail. ‘I like you like this. At my mercy. I’ve been at yours all day, watching you drift about being the belle of the party, making everybody love you, and deliberately taunting me with your gorgeousness.’ His mouth closed around her nipple again, but he was still looking up at her, his eyes dancing with light.

  Lizzie struggled with the pyjama cord again, a token gesture. She didn’t really want him to untie her. Being bound was thrilling, a delicious part of the game. She jerked her hips, though, coaxing him, enticing him, compelling him to stop playing around and give her clit some attention.

  Dominant and in charge, with her at his mercy, he still obeyed. A strong, clever finger wiggled its way through her pubic hair, settling right on target. Lizzie yelped at the sudden sharp surge of pleasure, of yearning fulfilled.

  Half coming, she groaned, ‘Oh God, yes!’

  ‘Yes indeed,’ murmured John against her breast, his finger flicking hard, below. Working.

  ‘More … Oh, more, more!’ gasped Lizzie, working in sync with him, rocking to the strokes of his finger. Within moments, the longed-for climax hit her, intense and dazzling, her pussy clenching furiously. John reared up, abandoning her breast so he could stare into her eyes as, barely missing a beat, he twisted his wrist and slipped fingers inside her, taking up the pleasuring of her clit with his thumb.

  ‘Yes, milady,’ he said, mock facetious, smiling down archly at her. ‘There’s always more for you. I never tire of seeing your face when you come.’

  No smart remarks came to her. Her mind was blank. Her whole body throbbing to the beat of her orgasm; one fixed point, her fiancé’s blue gaze. He took her up, again … and again … Would it go on for ever?

  In an instant of clarity, she caught her breath. ‘John, please, I want you inside me. Fuck me. I need you to fuck me.’

  He didn’t answer, but withdrew his hand. In a graceful swoop, he bent down, pushed her pyjama bottoms halfway down her thighs, and pressed his lips against her sex, more an action of fealty than of eroticism. Then, twisting, he pulled open the bedroom drawer and fished out a handful of condoms, flinging the lot on the bed, and snatching one up again.

  ‘I should bloody well think so!’ Lizzie protested. She was still shaking all over, but her brain was working again, at least for a few moments. ‘Are you going to untie me now too?’ She pulled at her bonds, wriggling her hips.

  ‘Soon,’ said John, rolling the contraceptive on. An errant thought flitted through Lizzie’s mind.

  I should go on the Pill, so there’d be no need for one of those. Especially now we’re engaged …

  But now just wasn’t the moment to get into that. It was something for another time, a cooler time. But she still wondered why he’d never suggested it, making love without condoms. Perhaps that would change now.

  ‘Well, you’ll need to take these off for me, then.’ Banishing her inner debate, she churned her thighs, flexing them against the pushed-down elastic of her pyjama trousers.

  With a grin, and his latex-clad cock bouncing, he divested her of the garment, tossing it aside. Firmly, he parted her thighs, making the path open for himself. ‘Gorgeous,’ he murmured. ‘What a divine view.’ Then he plunged his face greedily at her crotch, and opening her sex with his thumbs, he licked at her clit.

  ‘John! You fuck! You said you’d fuck me!’ Sensation swirled, she was so sensitised already, almost back to orgasm.

  ‘So ladylike,’ he said, smirking up at her, but with one last, long, insolent stroke, he withdrew his mouth from the field of ecstasy and gracefully hustled his body into position. ‘But I still love you.’ Resting on one elbow, he adjusted himself, resting his glans at her entrance.

  With a long, deep kiss that tasted of her body, he pushed in, sliding his shaft in as his tongue danced with hers.

  The sensation was like effervescence. She was bottled between his cock and his tongue, filled, possessed. And gathering pleasure was like some delicious fizzy beverage, pressure building and building as he thrust and kissed and she rattled again at the bed-rails with her secured hands. Only her legs were free, and she hooked them around the back of his, to strain and arch and push against him.

  She was on the brink. Teetering. Ready to
ignite. But she needed something.

  ‘Let me loose, John. Do it now!’ she growled, breaking the kiss.

  He looked down at her, eyes wild, half out of it, close to his own crisis. Then he plunged back into her, and into the kiss, but at the same time, resting on one elbow, he reached up and worked the knots, freeing her hands with just one of his.

  Just like a boy scout.

  Lizzie half giggled, half panted. Hysteria and pleasure ran alongside each other.

  ‘Minx!’ John gasped, almost laughing himself as she wound her arms around him and slid her hands down to clasp his pumping, flexing buttocks.

  ‘Horny beast!’ Canting up her hips, so he could get deeper, she dug her nails into his bottom to goad him on. He answered by pounding harder, hissing through his gritted teeth as she scored him.

  ‘You’re a cruel bitch, Elizabeth Aitchison!’ he accused, then kissed her again, harder and more hungrily, his usual fabulous accuracy wild and messy as he pounded and pounded, diving into her.

  Lizzie rose to him, flying again, pleasure effortless. She cried his name again and again, the words half-mangled as her body gripped and gripped him, pulsating.

  ‘Oh, hell, Lizzie, yes!’ shouted John, coming with her. Simple clichéd orgasmic outpourings, but everything to her, ringing with love as he climaxed.

  Chests heaving, hearts thudding, they clung to each other, drifting until gradually they got their breath back. John hauled himself off her and flopped on his side, hand searching and finding hers and lacing their fingers together as if he couldn’t bear not to be entwined with her, at least in this sweet, small way. Gripping back, Lizzie smiled, blinking sudden tears, the simple handclasp as precious as the gorgeous sex.