Seduced by the Dandy Lion

by Suzanne Quill

  “We must be rid of these clothes.” Drew’s voice was a low, gruff whisper in her ear.

  His hands released the heated flesh of her backside as he brushed the fabric down off her shoulders to sweep her gown over her hips to the floor.

  She stood there only in her chemise, corset, stockings and shoes.

  He stepped back.

  Marianne lifted her hands to try to hide her déshabillé.

  “No, don’t. I’ve waited years for this. Years to see you, touch you, make love to you. Here, let me relieve you of the corset. Surely, you’d welcome a deep breath. Please, turn around.”

  She looked at him, his gaze intent, his body still fully clothed. “No. I shall not stand here almost naked while you are fully dressed.”

  His lips twitched into a half smile. “As you wish, madam.”

  Drew proceeded to remove his jacket, his waistcoat, and throw them negligently over a nearby chair. He toed off one shiny leather boot, then the other, pulled his shirt tails from his trousers and started to pull his shirt over his head.

  “Wait!” Marianne raised both hands to stop him.

  “For what? I want you fully undressed. I am more than prepared to do the same. If I need to do so first for you to feel more at ease, so be it.”

  She felt herself flush. “Drew, I’m nervous. I’m scared. I haven’t . . . I haven’t . . . since that first time, that one time.”

  Drew released his shirt to fall over his hips and approached her cautiously. “I do not wish to rush you. However, you were just as heated as I. I took that as a sign to . . . continue.”

  Taking a deep breath, Marianne turned away. “I know nothing more than the first time. My friends talk. I listen but I know nothing more of what to do, how to do it. I don’t want to disappoint.”

  She felt him come up behind her. Felt the heat of him against her back. He placed gentle kisses on her nape and whispered, “We’ll go slower. I’ll take the lead. Stop me if I go too fast or you are afraid or uncomfortable. I only want to give you pleasure. To share it with you.

  “First, let’s rid you of this corset. How do women breathe in such things?” Drew pulled the ribbons, loosened the lacings. Marianne took in a deep breath and sighed it out. “See, that’s better, isn’t it?”

  “Yes. It’s a challenge every day.” Marianne rubbed the chemise around her middle.

  “You don’t have to wear one for me. When we are at home why not go without it? I won’t tell.” Drew tossed the contraption on to a nearby chair.

  “Oh, I couldn’t. What would people say?”

  “Marianne, who would possibly know unless you told them?”

  She cast him a thoughtful look over her shoulder, her brow furrowing.

  “Come. Let’s sit on the rug in front of the hearth. Take off your shoes and stockings so you can fully relax. I’ll remove my socks and trousers.”

  “Wait!” She felt herself flush.

  “Don’t worry, I’ll remain covered for now.”

  Marianne bent to her task but watched Drew out of the corner of her eye. He removed both socks, then unbuttoned his trousers and slid them off, all the while taking a glimpse at her progress every now and then. When finished, she sat on the rug before the fireplace.

  Drew walked over and sat next to her, drawing her close, splaying his legs open and slipping them around her. “Now, slide nearer to me and place your legs over mine.”

  Marianne did as she was told, getting close enough to his chest that she could feel the heat radiating from him.

  Drew laid his right hand face up on her left thigh. “Excellent. Lay your right hand face up on your right thigh and your left hand face down on my right hand.”

  She followed his instructions and felt relieved when he placed his left hand in her right but did not grasp or hold on to her.

  “Close your eyes, Marianne. Remember what we did back at the town house under the tree? Remember how quiet and restful that was? We’re going to do something similar here.”

  “Yes, I can do that.” Her eyes fluttered shut and she concentrated on her breathing, felt the ease and relaxation roll over her. She could hear Drew’s breathing as well, soft and even and seemingly in time with hers.

  She felt herself leaning forward as if drawn by some irresistible force. Closer. Closer.

  His lips were a whisper against hers. A touch without expectation. A brush of heat without pressure.

  She sighed and leaned farther forward, enticed by him.

  He pressed his lips more firmly against hers, kissing ever so lightly, promising without demanding.

  She leaned in again, the warmth of his body, the scent of his maleness, the feel of his lips on hers, too much to deny.

  She wanted more . . .

  She released her hands to slide them up his arms, over his shoulders, back into the hair at his nape, and pulled him closer to her.

  Drew slid his arms around her waist and enfolded her, their bodies now touching, fitting together. He deepened his kiss, his tongue teasing her mouth until she opened for him.

  She welcomed him by tasting, teasing, and moving her tongue against his.

  He pulled her even closer, her legs slipping further around his hips, the moist heat of her womanhood pressing against the solidity of his male member, the batiste of her chemise and the white cotton drill of his smalls doing little to mask the intimacy of their touching bodies.

  Her breathing came faster as his arms tightened and his lips moved from hers down her throat, nibbled on her earlobe, circled the tender flesh there with his tongue. He leaned her back to tease down the front of her décolleté until he took one taut nipple between his teeth right through her chemise to arouse it into hardness.

  Her body ignited, her breathing out of control. She held onto him as if her life depended on it, for surely it must at this very moment when he held her in thrall wanting him, needing him.

  “Drew . . .” she sighed out as his mouth moved to her other breast where her nipple, already tight, begged for his attention.

  “Yes, my love? Do you want me to stop?” he whispered back.

  “No. No. Please don’t stop. I . . . I’m . . . I can’t . . .”

  “Don’t do anything. Just let me love you. Let me take you all in. Let me give you everything.” He released her nipple, pulled the ribbon on her chemise, then slid it down her arms baring her totally. He lifted her arms, drew it over her head, and tossed it away.

  She felt bereft without his touch. Her eyes fluttered open to see him shift to draw his own shirt over his head, uncovering the warm expanse of his chest, the hairs there crisply curled and inviting her to touch them.

  She reached out her hand.

  “Yes,” Drew purred. “Touch me. Anywhere you wish.”

  Marianne stroked the hard muscles of his chest threading her fingers through the hairs, tugging gently.

  Drew growled low and deep, then moved to pull the string on his drawers.

  Marianne looked down to see his manhood uncovered and more than ready.

  She swallowed hard.

  “Marianne,” Drew leaned forward to whisper in her ear as he embraced her once again. “Shall I stop here?”

  “Can you stop? Would it not hurt you?” Her voice sounded small and shy even to her own ears.

  “Of course. I don’t want to but I would never force you.”

  “No. Don’t stop. I want to know. I want to know what all the other women know. I want to know what you know.” She slid her arms back around his neck and pressed her chest against his, feeling the mantle of fur across his chest rub and incite the sensitivity of her breasts.

  “Very well.” Drew took her mouth again and as he did so, he placed his hands on her hips lifting her, shifting her, then settling her on his s
haft.

  She felt him slide in slowly, deliberately, but completely as her body seemed to open and welcome him without any effort on her part.

  Drew growled again, releasing her mouth.

  “Am I hurting you?” she whispered.

  “Lord, no. I think I’m in heaven. Wait a moment. Don’t move or I’ll embarrass myself by releasing too quickly.”

  “You can control it?” she wondered aloud.

  Drew gently squeezed and massaged her derrière. “Yes, if I pay attention. But, I’ve wanted this for so very long, these past years, I’m having difficulty staying.”

  “What should I do?”

  “Just hold on to me.”

  She pulled him in then, took what she had learned and played it against him. She kissed him down his jawline, nibbled on one ear, then the other. She caressed each ear with her tongue, then drew the wetness down his throat across his pulse point.

  She was satisfied to hear his breath quicken, feel his heat rise.

  She rocked her hips against him.

  “Yes . . .” he growled and grabbed her hips, rolling and rocking them against his, then sliding them up and down so that his shaft impaled her again and again.

  Her body flew apart. She gasped for air but he did not stop. She clutched for purchase, digging her nails into his back as the ride continued and Drew pumped deep inside her, his heat and force making her whole body shiver, shake, and convulse.

  “Drew . . . Drew . . . Drew!” She shattered again.

  And then he stiffened and clutched her so tightly she thought she might break as he roared, “Marianne!”

  Chapter 23

  The quiet was almost deafening around them as their panting ceased and their breathing slowly returned to normal.

  Drew tightened his arms around her so she was splayed fully against his chest.

  “Oh, my God.” Marianne sighed deeply then shivered. “Is it always like this? Does every person feel this intensity?”

  Drew rubbed his hands up and down her arms. “You have gooseflesh. You’re chilled. Tighten your legs around my hips and I’ll take you to bed and warm you up.” When he felt her arms around his neck and her legs firmly against his hips and backside, he rose from the floor holding her tightly against him.

  He reached the bed, grabbed the covers, and tossed them back, then climbed into it still holding Marianne against his chest. Once they were lying side by side, he tugged the covers back over them. “There. You’ll warm up quickly now.”

  Marianne snuggled up against him. “Are you avoiding my question?”

  “Of course, not. I’m just making sure you’re comfortable.” He tightened the covers around them. “Are you warming up?”

  “Yes. But you haven’t answered my question. Does everyone feel such intensity?”

  “I cannot speak for everyone but from discussions I’ve had with the monks and teachers at the monastery, the answer would be no. They explained it takes a special connection to feel what we just did.”

  “Oh, my. I am . . . stunned. I just didn’t know. Our first time . . . Well, it wasn’t like that our first time.” She laid her head against his chest and sighed.

  “It certainly wasn’t.” Drew stroked her hair. “I knew little about what we were doing at that time and I’m guessing you knew even less.”

  Marianne yawned. “Will it be like that every time?”

  Drew smiled to himself. He could make no promises but he would spend the rest of his life making love to her as often as she wished to share that feeling of intense intimacy with her. “Well, maybe not every time. I would expect it will change as we grow old together. It will probably be intense in different ways as we fit together over the years.”

  “Yes.” She yawned again as her voice faded. “Over the years . . . it will change.”

  She drifted to the land of dreams.

  He could only hope they would be beautiful, happy dreams after what they had just shared.

  He cuddled her close and relaxed himself into sleep.

  ~ ~ ~

  Drew leaned against the window jamb and buttoned his trousers as he studied the gardens and park sprawled out below. The sky, black velvet studded with diamond stars, featured a waxing crescent moon that hung low over the horizon.

  Barely past ten o’clock in the evening according to the clock on the mantel, he awoke from the lack of food. They had missed both dinner and supper and luncheon was many hours before.

  He tugged the bell pull, then asked for a tray of food when Marianne’s maid, Ellen, arrived to answer the call. With a pert curtsy and a brief nod, the maid went to fetch sustenance.

  Expecting his wife to rouse from slumber sooner rather than later as she had also not eaten recently, he went over to stoke the fires in the hearth and bring the temperature in the room somewhere closer to warmth. With the fire rekindled and the heat coming full on, he settled on the settee to contemplate the flames and the evening’s events.

  His reverie was interrupted by a knock on the dressing room door. Releasing the latch, he found Ellen with a tray so full of food it was a wonder she could carry it.

  “Thank you. I’ll take it from here.” He grasped both handles firmly to relieve her of the burden.

  The maid went on her way.

  He set the tray on the tea table near the hearth.

  “Drew?”

  Looking back over his shoulder, he discovered his wife stretching, her breasts bare and the blankets in her lap. “I’m here. Come sit with me by the fire. The room is warm and Ellen has just brought us a tray.”

  He watched as she made her way out of the bed and looked for something to put on. Finding his shirt, she tossed it over her head and tugged it down over her hips.

  He felt his body respond instantaneously. “How silly of me not to realize you would look so much better in my shirts than I. Come over here, temptress, before I desert the food and take you right back to bed.”

  “No, I’m famished. I need food before I can go to such exertions again.” Marianne headed toward the settee, brushing one of the chairs and knocking his jacket to the floor. She bent to pick it up.

  “Don’t bother with that. We’ll pick them all up later.”

  She grabbed the coat by its closest edge only to lift it upside down. An object slid from a pocket and landed with a quiet thud on the carpet. Shaking out the jacket with one hand, she retrieved the waylaid object in the other and held it up in the firelight. “What is this?” She laid the jacket back over the chair and came toward him, lost in her study. “Drew, is this a miniature of me? You’ve had it all this time?”

  Drew felt himself redden as Marianne studied the talisman that had kept him connected to home, to her, these last years. The watercolored image on ivory was contained in a sterling silver frame and painted by no other than George Engleheart, as proven by the initials G.E. on its back. Obviously, Marianne’s father knew to whom such a commission should be given when he wanted a quality job done and lack of funds no issue. Drew had found it still in his pocket after his abduction and had held onto it, cherished it, regardless of where his travels had taken him. Indeed, it had travelled around the world several times and its frame remained untarnished due to its constant location in his pocket and his fingers often rubbing it when he was stressed or contemplating.

  “Drew?” Marianne settled in next to him.

  He gently took the miniature from her hand and rubbed the silver edge with his thumb. “This kept me anchored, Marianne. When first taken, I held this and thought of home and how no one knew where I was, how I was, or if I were even alive. Later, I thought maybe it best I stay away. You had not wanted to marry me. I knew that. And I thought it might be easier for you to move on without me. Of course, I had no knowledge of Andrea or the fact that my father would no
t properly care for you. I thought he would be that much of a gentleman, at least. But, even if you had turned your dowry over to him, I am sure now he would have done the same. Left you to your own devices and spent the funds in his usual manner, on one flimflam game after another.

  “Still, as I travelled and learned and gained income because of my prowess with languages, I never felt at home. I never felt I wanted to stay at any one place, until I went to the monastery, the Order of the Crimson Lotus. Once there, I felt welcome and useful.”

  “How did you come to find it?” Marianne laid a hand on his arm.

  “They found me, actually. You know, sailors are a hardy bunch and once they land in a port they waste no time catching up on the vices that have been unavailable to them for so many months. We came into Shang Hai on the afternoon tide and by midnight we were three sheets in the wind, ironically in the same state that got me impressed as a sailor to begin with.

  “Anyway, I tried to leave my mates behind as I’d felt I had had enough, if not too much to drink already. I was barely out of the building and on my way back to board the ship when I was accosted again. Does this sound familiar?” He laid a hand over hers and gave her a sheepish grin. “I had nothing of value on me except a few gold coins and the miniature, which they did not take for some unknown reason. The bash on my head, however, had me unconscious in yet another gutter.

  “I woke up in a cart drawn by two oxen and already quite a ways out of town.”

  “Were you not scared? Could you not get up and run away?”

  “Unfortunately, a concussion does not work that way. I was disoriented and dizzy. After I woke up, I merely passed out again.

  “I really don’t know how many days I was in and out of consciousness while the monks and teachers tended me. Washed me. Bandaged my head. Gave me tea. Fed me broth. And plied me with different herbs while they stuck needles in me.”