by Golden Angel
The Earl moved so that he was standing between them, his back to her, but she could see his anger in every line of his body and his clenched fists. She thought she actually might faint from the sheer build-up of anxiety in her burdened lungs.
"Get out. And stay away from her." The Earl’s voice was low, soft, and murderous. In fact, she’d never heard him sound so dangerous, so threatening, even when shed been discovered with Mr. Brandon in the bookshop. For once, she truly did feel a bit frightened of him.
"She was willing," Mr. Carter said, getting to his feet and still holding his hand over his eye. His dark blonde hair was slightly rumpled, as were his clothes, but he would still have been handsome if it wasn’t for the ugly expression across his face. Cynthia hadn’t expected him to offer to make things right, but still! His ungentlemanly verbal retreat sincerely made her hope that the Earl didn’t push the point.
She truly did not want to marry Mr. Carter.
"She won't be anymore," the Earl said shortly. "Now get out."
The stood there for a moment, staring each other down, and then Mr. Carter gave a sharp nod and turned and left.
Clinging to the column, Cynthia realized that she was trembling all over. She was in so much trouble. More trouble than she'd ever been in her life. All the air seemed to vacate her body as she sighed out, thankful that the Earl had let Mr. Carter go. Although she did wonder why he wasn’t threatening pistols at dawn this time. Unless, of course, he was placing equal blame on her as he was on Mr. Carter.
She felt rather ashamed of herself, for the first time.
When the Earl turned around, his face was harder than she'd ever seen it, but his eyes were burning with a fury that she could see even in the dim lighting. She stared up at him, her mind blank, her body still tingling slightly from Mr. Carter's attentions. And she couldn't think of a single thing to say.
Chapter 10
With Cynthia's disheveled state and his own towering rage, there was no way he could take her back through the Assembly rooms, so instead he took her through one of the side exits and they traveled the back halls to get to the front. There was no one there, thankfully, except a few servants who looked at them and then looked away. His ward was flushed, her lips swollen from kisses, her hair mussed, and the neckline of her gown slightly ripped, which told him exactly where the other man's hand had been. Who knew what the blaggard might have done if Wesley hadn’t gotten there just then.
Strangely, having caught Cynthia with another man didn't make him any less eager to marry her. If anything, he was more determined than ever to lay his own claim to her. With his own rampant libido and penchant for all things sexual, he wasn't the least bit concerned with keeping her satisfied. Hell, he'd love to satisfy her. And if he had to keep her chained to his bed to ensure her faithfulness, he didn't have a problem with that either.
The front hall was deserted as well, everyone was already in the Assembly rooms and he could hear the buzz of conversation and music coming from behind the doors. Thankfully they were closed so there was no one of importance to notice their sudden appearance. Keeping a firm grip on her bicep - not that she was struggling, she seemed too shocked and overwhelmed by his appearance and reaction to try and resist - Wesley motioned over one of the footmen.
"I need you to find my mother, the Countess of Spencer, and inform her that my ward has a megrim and needs to return home."
The man nodded, barely glancing at Cynthia, and disappeared into the Assembly rooms to find the Countess. Trying not to tap his foot impatiently, Wesley occupied his time by sending another footman to have the carriage brought round and then silently trying to get his temper under control. By the time the carriage was waiting for them, the footman that he'd sent to find his mother was returning, unaccompanied.
"My lord, the Countess has decided to stay and has accepted the offer of a ride home from Lord Vernier."
"Very well," Wesley growled, trying not to take his temper out on the poor footman. It wasn't his fault that the Countess wanted to stay and be social and didn't realize what a situation she was putting Wesley in. He realized this might be for the best; if his mother saw Cynthia right now she would have some idea of what the chit had been up to and who knew what her reaction might be.
Dragging his ward behind him down the street, Wesley practically tossed her up into the closed carriage before climbing in after her. With the curtains drawn and only letting in the dimmest amount of light, they were, quite suddenly, alone. He rapped on the top of the carriage to let the coachman know they were settled and the carriage immediately began to move, rocking forward.
Sitting across from her, Wesley crossed his arms over his chest to ensure that he would keep his hands to himself.
"Alright miss. You may now explain yourself."
There was a sigh from the other side of the carriage. Unfortunately he couldn’t see her expression so he couldn’t tell if it was a contrite sigh or an impatient one. "I should rather think that the... situation you found me in was self-explanatory."
"What I don't understand is why I found you in it. Are you trying to shame me? My mother? Do you realize what could have happened?"
"Of course I do," she replied, sounding rather cross at his questions. Wesley could see her leaning back and crossing her own arms beneath her chest, tossing her head rather haughtily. At least he could see what she was doing even if he couldn’t make out her expression, although her intransigience just made his temper climb even higher. "But everyone was inside, we were in no danger of being caught out."
"You’re lucky I caught you out. If anyone else had then you'd be ruined right now," he growled, tightening his arms against the urge to reach out and position her over his knee. "Do you want to be ruined?"
"No, of course not."
Exasperated, Wesley tossed his hands up in the air, nearly overbalancing as the carriage rocked at the exact same time - which didn't help his temper at all. She sounded absolutely sincere, which made even less sense to him given her behavior. "Then why do you keep putting yourself in situations where you might be ruined?"
"It's exciting. And I’ve never been caught before."
Completely fed up, Wesley grabbed the infuriating chit and pulled her across the carriage, upending her over his knee. She shrieked, kicking and wriggling to get away, but once he had her voluminous skirts flipped up it was even easier to hold her still because the skirts were covering her upper body and making it harder for her to move. Underneath her petticoats she wasn't wearing any drawers and the pale cheeks of her bottom glowed faintly in the dim light of the moon that was coming through the window.
Well they wouldn't be pale much longer.
SMACK!
A muffled howl and she kicked out, connecting only with the walls of the carriage. There wasn’t much room for her to maneuver, which was all to his advantage especially as he’d gotten a firm hold round her waist.
SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!
The soft flesh of her bottom jiggled and gave under his hand, he was spanking her with all the considerable force he could muster given the somewhat limited swing that the carriage required. It was also a bit harder to keep her on his lap in the moving conveyance, even though she'd stopped squirming. He could still hear her muffled cries with every slap of his hand against her bottom and his cock throbbed in response.
SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!
He spanked her until his hand was beginning to smart and he could see that her cheeks had turned bright red under the assault. Heat was emanating off the glowing surface and her body was limp over his lap, her pleading sobs still muffled by all the skirts. Grimly he kept spanking, determined to implant this lesson in her mind. If he’d had something to spank her with, he would have.
Suddenly Wesley realized the carriage had stopped; they were home. He ceased spanking her, listening to her sobs as he breathed heavily in the warmth of the carriage, his hand resting on her hot bottom. For a moment he hesitated, but he knew that the coachman would realize not
to interrupt. And he had to know.
He let his hand slide down between her legs.
******
If she'd thought her prior spankings were bad, this one had been even worse. The Earl was merciless, ignoring her pleas, her apologies, and every smack was as hard or even harder than the last. The entire surface of her bottom felt like it was on fire, her lower body an inferno that blazed with agony, and yet the slaps just kept raining down anyway.
The skirts around her head caught her tears, her hands braced as best they could against the floorboards of the rocking carriage. She'd been rather frightened of being thrown against the opposite seat, until the pain of the spanking had completely overwhelmed her and she couldn't think of anything else except begging the Earl to stop. When he didn't, she just sobbed into her skirts, clutching at the floor and kicking her legs in pained response.
When the assault suddenly ceased, she almost didn't notice. Her bottom was throbbing so badly that it felt like the slaps were continuing; it was more the cessation of sound that caught her attention. Tears continued to fall as she cried, almost dizzy from the pain and her upturned position.
Then the Earl's large hand rested on her bottom, much cooler than that glowing surface, and she shuddered all over at the intimate touch. To her shock, his hand began to slide downwards, his fingers moving inwards towards the crease of her bottom, and then touching the swollen folds of her quim. As soon as he did so, she realized she'd had her usual reaction to being spanked, as inexplicable as it was.
And a man was touching her for the first time. Not just any man, but him.
Cynthia moaned as the Earl's fingers slipped easily between her folds, torn between humiliation at his discovery, extreme arousal, and shock that he was touching her in this way. Her hands batted at her skirts as she tried to squirm away, but he secured his tight hold on her body and the layers of fabric effectively trapped her so that she couldn't even attempt to push his hand away. And that just made her even wetter.
Touching herself and having someone else touch her was completely different. She couldn't control or even anticipate where the Earl's fingers might go, and the uncertainty seemed to make the sensations even more intense as he stroked her. Cynthia gasped as the inquisitive fingers stroked up and down her slit, all the way up to the little pearl at the apex which was surely swollen beyond anything she'd ever felt before. Her wetness had completely soaked her pussy lips and, as the Earl continued to caress the sensitive folds, was even now spreading to the tops of her thighs as she became more and more excited.
Very dimly, she heard the Earl chuckle and murmur something. She couldn't make out what he said, but he sounded pleased. Normally she would have been infuriated by his amusement when she was in such a position, but right now she didn't care what he did as long as he didn't stop touching her! The need that was growing inside of her core was more intense, more demanding than she'd ever felt before.
His other hand curved over her bottom and she groaned as he squeezed the tortured flesh, igniting the sharp bite of pain again... it mingled strangely with the pleasure that his stroking fingers were creating in her pussy. Enhanced it even, the way eating something bitter made sugar taste all the more sweet.
Then one of his fingers pressed to her opening and slid inside of her. Cynthia cried out, her hips wagging up and down at the shockingly delightful sensation. His finger was much longer and thicker than her own, moving back and forth, deeper and deeper as the rest of his fingers continued to play with and stroke her folds. He began squeezing her reddened bottom in time with his finger thrusts, causing the burn and ecstasy to collide deep inside of her until she couldn't tell which was which.
“Oooooh…” she cried out.
This was wicked. Sinful even. Far worse than any of the other rules of propriety that she’d ever broken, and yet she had no control over it – which was a heady sensation. Cynthia had always been in control of what rules she broke and how she broke them; suddenly having it taken away from her was beyond exciting.
A second finger joined the first and she gasped at the stretch of her inner muscles, of the probing invasion of a man’s fingers. Something pressed against her clitoris and she bucked and heaved as the Earl’s hand squeezed and his fingers stroked. The shocking rapture blossomed outward unexpectedly, her first climax at the hands of someone other than herself and all the more intense and surprising because of that.
The pain from the spanking and the incredible ecstasy from her climax was almost too much. She cried out, gasping for air, fighting back blackness that edged in around her vision; the feeling that she was going to faint grew stronger as the Earl’s fingers continued to stroke, wringing every last ripple of pleasure from her squirming body. He pushed her far beyond the edges of pleasure that she found for herself, leaving her sobbing at the strength of her orgasm.
Finally the movement stopped and Cynthia slumped over his lap, shuddering as his fingers slid from her quivering pussy.
******
Beautiful.
That was Wesley’s first thought. Cynthia’s bright, glowing bottom was a thing of absolutely beauty, the wet swollen folds beneath it only adding to the attraction. His cock surged, but he beat back the impulse to lay her against the opposite seat in the carriage and take his pleasure. Still…
Leaning back, Wesley shifted Cynthia just enough to allow him to unlace his breeches, freeing his cockstem from the tight confines of fabric. With a groan, he fisted the hard rod in his hand and pumped, several times. That was all he needed for great white streams of cum to spray across the flaming surface of her bottom, making it look even redder than before in contrast. The pleasure of release left him groaning in satisfaction, more satisfaction that he’d had ever since he’d arrived in Bath.
Panting, he took his sore hand – sore from spanking her bottom, so he could only imagine how said bottom felt at the moment – and rubbed the white rivulets of seed into her red skin. The friction of his hand against her sensitive cheeks made Cynthia whimper, a sound he could barely hear through her skirts.
With another groan, Wesley secured his breeches and then brought Cynthia up to a sitting position, seating her back on the bench she'd started out on. She was sniffling, her nose red, her eyes pink and wide with shock. The expression on her face was rather dazed as she stared across at him. Her breasts had come out of her low cut dress and Wesley reached forward, cupping them in his hands and pinching the hard little nipples as he stared into her eyes.
Cynthia shivered and moaned, rocking slightly on the seat, which was surely very uncomfortable right now. Hearing movement outside, Wesley tamped down on his desires to continue playing with her and he drew her dress back up over her breasts. The image remained seared in his mind, however, and he looked forward to being able to enjoy those luscious mounds with a more thorough examination later.
Opening the carriage door, he gave a nod to the coachman who was obviously pretending momentary deafness. Good man. Taking Cynthia by the hand, he pulled her out of her seat and gathered her up in his arms, ignoring her muffled protest as he cradled her body against his. With one arm behind her back and the other tucked under her knees, there really wasn't any way for her to resist him even if she hadn't been so dazed. She was a nice, soft armful; she felt right snuggled up against him.
"Thank you, Lordan," he said to the coachman, before swinging his ward around and heading for the front steps. He made a mental note to ensure that the man got a bonus tomorrow. There was nothing like cold, hard cash to help ensure silence. Even if he planned to marry her, he didn’t want his Countess to have a sullied reputation or for anyone to think that he was marrying her because he had to.
There was no one on the street; it was too early for most of the fashionable of Bath to be returning home, which was good since there would be no one to gossip. And he trusted his mother's staff to keep their lips sealed, especially once the betrothal was announced. The only person they would tell was his mother herself, and he intended on
speaking with her first thing tomorrow.
Cynthia murmured and wriggled a bit as he went up the stairs, obviously beginning to come out of her pleasure induced stupor.
"Stay still so I don't drop you," he said, rather lightly as Manfred opened the door. The lines of disapproval in the old man's face were deeply drawn. There was definitely one servant who wouldn't hesitate to tell the Countess everything, but Wesley knew he'd be forgiven once he explained. And there was every chance that Manfred would wait till tomorrow to inform the Countess anyway. Telling her tonight would only disturb her sleep, and Manfred wouldn’t do that. So all Wesley had to do to evade a scene was ensure that he reached his mother before Manfred tomorrow morning.
Murmuring something again, her words too indistinct for Wesley to make out, Cynthia snaked her arm around his neck to further secure herself in his arms as he made his way for the stairs. Grinning, he could nearly feel Manfred's eyes boring into the back of his head. He knew exactly what kind of picture he and Cynthia made. Manfred obviously thought Wesley rather thoroughly ruined his ward, in the carriage, right in front of his mother's house.
Well, that wasn’t too far from the truth. He had certainly ruined her although not as thoroughly as he might have liked. And considering that no one but the servants knew, it's not as if she was truly ruined anyway. But enough that he would have been forced to make a proper woman out of her, if he hadn’t planned to already.
Having maneuvered his way up the stairs, Wesley headed towards Cynthia's room. She was snuggled into him now, her head resting on his shoulder, her fingertips lightly playing with the hair on the back of his neck. As long as she knew that it was him carrying her and she wasn’t thinking of some other man, then he certainly didn’t mind. And his desire was already rising again as the back of his neck tingled under her touch. Knowing that underneath her skirts she had a very red bottom with his seed pressed into it didn't help. He really shouldn’t have done that, but he hadn’t been able to help himself.