Elizabeth had said a broken-hearted good-bye to her family and had gone to start her life across the pond.
One year later, Lucy found herself standing in the same spot as her sister before her, imploring her father to find her a suitor.
“I would also like to go to the Americas,” she informed Hugh, much to his chagrin. He hoped his two youngest would stay close but he respected Lucy’s wishes.
At least she and Elizabeth will have one another in the same country for kinship. Their children will grow up knowing one another, he reasoned but it did not shake the sadness in his heart at losing not one but two of his precious daughters.
He had begrudgingly begun his search for another American son-in-law and soon had found a well-to-do banker in Boston. He hired an investigator to do an appropriate background check on the man and determined that he was a decent enough candidate for his Lucy.
Unlike Elizabeth, Lucy had been excited at the possibility of the journey. The idea of battling the open seas to find her true love was intensely romantic and she had poured over the correspondences Montgomery James had sent to her father. For hours as she prepared for her trip, she read the letters, hoping to glimpse some insight of her husband-to-be. She longed for a photograph but she dared not request something so bold. Monty had not even addressed to her a proper letter, always referring to her as “Miss Hanover.”
He is a perfect gentleman, Lucy had swooned, sharing only her innermost thoughts and desires with her two youngest sisters but even then, she had not told them of her thoughts which made her touch herself underneath her bedclothes night after night. She had imagined Monty to be a kind lover, gently caressing her skin with fiery hot fingertips, tracing over her gooseflesh with skilful perfection. If she closed her eyes, she would pretend her own digits were his long, scalding manhood, stroking against her tight, throbbing button, up and down as her juices began to slick her opening.
“Oh, Monty,” she would whisper into the empty room but in her mind, he was stroking her heaving body, teasing her womanhood wickedly, while his lips followed the contours of her face.
“Please!” she would beg. “Please take me. I am yours always!”
Finally, he would succumb to her pleas, spreading her thighs apart widely and entering her gently. Her own fingers would find the middle of her wetness as her dream husband moaned in her ear, his hot breath gasping against her neck. The mixture of sweet pleasure and pain would bring her closer to climax, her own fingers growing sodden at her vigorous movements. As she reached the apex of her release, more saccharine liquid oozed all over her, leaving Lucy to ponder the sin of what she had done.
It is not sin; I am thinking only of my husband, no one else. He is the only one I could ever wish to bring me such satisfaction.
She had written to Elizabeth to inform her of her impending arrival in America and her oldest sister had been overjoyed at the news.
“Oh, I have been dreadfully lonely here,” Elizabeth had written. “Frances is working all day and there are servants for everything. I haven’t a thing to occupy my time but tending to the gardens.”
“It sounds dreadful,” Lucy had responded. “I do not know how you survive!”
What Lucy had not anticipated was the arduous crossing. What had begun as an adventure had turned into a terrifying reality, one filled with sickness and loneliness. While Daniel had been assigned to see her across the ocean, Lucy found herself without the companionship of her family for the first time in her nineteen years. She longed for them terribly and nothing could stop the aching in her belly. She suddenly remembered Elizabeth’s woeful words of solitude and she was immediately empathetic.
It is quite a change to be away from those you have loved for so long, she thought mournfully. She reminded herself that she would be in wonderful company in a very short time. Her mind flittered back to the countless nights she had pleasured herself to the thought of her betrothed.
Replacing the water glass on the nightstand at her side, Lucy adjusted the compress against her forehead and willed her guts to cease their turmoil.
You will adjust splendidly when you arrive. You can write father, Anna and Violet and perhaps you can visit Elizabeth. You must focus on your future and not your past. Think of Monty. In two days, I will know how Montgomery James looks. Will he be tall and dashing or short and muscular? Will he be stoic and serious or charming and witty?
Lucy had already decided that it did not matter how he appeared or what his disposition. She was committed to being the best wife and she was certain that Montgomery would instantly be smitten with her. She had no way of knowing how wrong she would be.
Chapter Two
He climbed the stairs slowly, his mind wrought with several thoughts, none of them related to the last. There were unbalanced ledgers and unruly servants, irate customers and a sickly horse. Then there was the matter of those unsolved bank robberies and of course, Lucy Hanover. He willed his mind to become a blank slate, focussing instead on what lay ahead of him in the coming moments. Immediately, his member began to grow and he licked his lips in anticipation. The sounds of muffled laughter and low voices filtered through the corridor as he reached the landing and his inky eyes took a moment to adjust to the lighting.
No one can do what Celia can do, he thought, smirking to himself. If those men were ever lucky enough to afford her, there would be no laughter, only immobility and gasps of shock. It takes a real man to handle Celia.
His manhood rose further, thinking of the taut deepness of his chosen, his pants becoming uncomfortable around his crotch as he walked.
Two chandeliers hung on either end of the long hallway but most of the candles had already burnt out, the hour being after midnight. Turning to his left, he found himself at the blue painted door and knocked once.
“Come in!”
He pushed open the slightly ajar door and closed it firmly at his back. Celia smiled beguilingly at him, laying seductively on her side as if she was posing for a painting. Her mass of dark hair sat about her shoulders, unpinned and dishevelled, her own mouth soused in juices as if salivating at the thought of what was next to come.
“Good evening,” she purred, extending her long index finger and willing him forward. “Please come in.”
He began to remove his jacket and vest, his hands already unbuttoning his black trousers simultaneously. His tumescent shaft was erect and proud, ever growing at the sight of her sensuous, full body. Celia laughed at his eagerness but he leapt upon her, silencing her chuckle with his hot mouth. She moaned, parting her lips to allow for his tongue to enter. Their flesh met, teasingly, dancing a sensual ritual of wetness. Daringly, Celia gnashed her teeth against his brooding lower lip. Celia gasped in surprise as her dressing gown fell away, revealing ample buttocks. His palms slapped her creamy skin, causing her to cry out and he pinned her down ruthlessly with his muscular form, his hand clamping her wrists together firmly. She wriggled gently under him, making his already thick member rise harder against her back but he did not release his vice-like grip of her hands. The fingers of his free hand found their way into the crevice between her full cheeks and he slid them roughly from stem to stern, coaxing her juices out from her depth, spreading the slickness evening about both her openings. Celia struggled harder now, her legs tensing from anticipation. Harder, his fingers worked, relishing her squeals and he allowed his fingertips to poke at her crevices simultaneously.
“Put yourself inside me,” she begged but he did not heed her request, increasing the speed of his fingertips around her delicate rifts. She pushed against him eagerly, silently begging him to finish what he was starting but he continued to do as he was, bringing her to a sopping, quivering pile of desire. He rocked his maleness over her back, heat of his shaft almost burning into her. Upward she bucked, pleading between her moans of pleasure until he finally succumbed, dipping his long hands into her dripping center. Immediately, he felt her release upon him as he pushed further inside her but before she could fin
ish, he poised himself against her tinier hole and drew himself inside. Her body instinctively resisted the action, causing her to tighten deliciously against his organ, drawing him to the brink of climax. Enjoying both the tautness of his location and the feral screams, his hand continued to finger her, forcing her to spill herself over again, her body twitching sporadically under his weight. His clutch upon her wrists tightened with the skin around his sack and soon he was spilling burning seed into her, meeting Celia’s sprays of pleasure with his own.
Squealing helplessly, Celia convulsed passionately and was suddenly still, her body still shaking as he finished.
When the last drop had spent from his member, he swiftly withdrew and liberated Celia from his possession.
“Oh,” she purred, catching her breath. “That was lovely. You become more vigorous with each encounter.”
He did not respond. Instead, he pulled her up to her knees, an action which almost caused her to fall over once more and deposited his slowly rescinding shaft into her panting mouth. Her dark eyes watched him with awe as she feverishly took to the task of rebuilding his pleasure. A fist full of thick tresses, he slipped himself in and out of her warm mouth, slowly feeling himself grow once more. Her soft, olive hands caressed the space underneath, massaging the balls gently and he sighed. Dancing over her tongue, his hips rocked in an unheard rhythm, feeling his manhood ready to reach another fiery explosion. Yanking her hair firmly, he dropped his huge phallus into her expanding throat and allowed his seed back into her, stream after stream. She did not struggle, accepting the wave of scalding liquid into her, moaning with her lips pressed firmly about him tightly.
Certain he was as spent as he could be, he pulled himself out of her eager throat and watched appreciatively as she swallowed, her pink tongue darting over her mouth as to not waste a drop.
Reaching into his trousers, he withdrew several legal tender notes and deposited them on the night table beside Celia’s quivering frame. He marked with satisfaction that his nectar stained her thighs almost to her ankles.
“When will I see you again?” the prostitute asked as he opened the door. For the first time since entering the room, he opened his mouth to speak.
“I imagine sooner rather than later. My wife will be docking tomorrow,” Montgomery replied.
It had seemed a fine idea when the suggestion first arose.
An arranged marriage from overseas is precisely what I should be entertaining, Montgomery had told himself. A woman willing to make a trek from across the Atlantic must possess more grit than the average, frivolous wench in these parts. She will be consumed with adopting customs and aligning herself with the needs of the household and therefore will leave me in peace to pursue my work. It will be nice to have someone with who I can lay with at whim, without throwing away good money. If she is lovely, I will lay with her often, perhaps teaching her some of the tricks which Celia has learned over the year. While Celia’s tricks are wonderful, she is becoming tiresome and yet I have trained her so well. It would be a shame to let her go when she has such a sinfully delicious tongue and knows precisely where to touch to make my seed spill furiously. Perhaps Lucy can be taught these ways. Maybe I will bring her to visit Celia and Celia can train her properly.
He had agreed to the arrangement, knowing that a man with his prestigious title and class required a wife on his arm.
It is improper for a man to be without a woman, he had warned himself. He could already see the odd looks and hear the whispers in town as speculation ran rampant.
“Why would a man in his thirties not be wed? Particularly a man with such high standing? Is there something amiss with his character?” They all seemed to be saying.
In truth, there was plenty amiss with Montgomery James’ character. He truly did not see the need for a woman, considering them lowly and inferior to men on all levels. He had a housemaid to run his manor home in Boston and he sought out the company of women in the brothels. Yet, he also knew that he could not carry on his family name through one of the whores in town. Reluctantly, he began to seek out the companionship of women in Boston society. There had been plenty of whom to choose, their fathers each offering a bigger dowry than the last. However, it was not the money which Monty was seeking; he simply wanted a meek, quiet woman who would bear his children and remain unseen. He sometimes worried that his penchant for the unique copulation he preferred would come to light if one of the women were to complain to their fathers or their friends. It quickly became apparent as he courted that the women in Boston were anything but the mute concubines with whom he wished to breed.
My father would turn in his grave if he were to hear the way women of today speak and act! Monty had thought, crossing yet another potential woman from his quickly diminishing list.
When a long-time acquaintance at the lodge informed Monty that he had sent away for a bride overseas, Monty had been intrigued. Within days, he had been contacted by Hugh Hanover. Hugh had assured him that Lucy was obedient, appreciative and hard working.
“She has never given me sass or backtalk and has come to me to seek a husband,” Hugh had written. Monty had nodded approvingly, wondering why such a woman was so difficult to find in America.
Women these days would balk at the thought of their father finding them a suitor, let alone a husband. I should have considered an overseas arrangement long ago.
Yet as the day drew closer to Lucy’s arrival, Monty was beginning to have second thoughts, ones he could no longer easily dismiss.
While her father has assured you she is subservient, perhaps his definition of obedience and mine are culturally different. Perhaps he is just yearning to be rid of her and will say whatever he will to get her far from him. What if she is as surly as the women here? You will seem a dishonest man should you send her back immediately and there will be backlash from her father, a man who has strong business ties in London. I have no choice; I have committed to marrying the English girl no matter what her disposition. I have created a fine mess for myself, haven’t I?
Monty decided that if Lucy Hanover proved to be difficult, he would simply put her in her place as a good husband should. The thought made him grow hard once more.
Chapter Three
He does loathe me, Lucy thought, furtively staring at her husband as he read the morning periodical. He does not even cast a glance in my direction. Am I so undesirable to him, so unlike American women?
It was a conversation Lucy had many times since her arrival in Boston, almost one month earlier. Their wedding ceremony had been an acrid disappointment, occurring the day after her arrival with only a justice of the peace and two bank employees present to witness. She had not had time to properly seek out a gown and wore only a simple blue gown. She had managed to fashion a veil during her one evening stay at a low-class hotel.
“I am ill prepared for a wedding so soon!” she had cried after Monty informed her of his plans to marry the following day. “I haven’t a dress or veil – “
“Your father did tell me you were a handy seamstress. Did he lie?” Monty cut her off brusquely. Shocked, Lucy shook her head.
“No, Montgomery, I am quite adept at handling a needle but one night is hardly sufficient – “
“I will not spend good money putting you up in a hotel for an extended period of time so you can spend more of my hard-earned money on an impractical party!” he exploded. “If I had known you were spoiled, I would not have agreed to this arrangement.”
Humiliation flooded her rosy cheeks and she stared at her husband-to-be with her mouth agape.
An impractical party? She thought, blinking back tears of hurt from her eyes. It is our wedding, the only one we will ever have.
She said none of those things aloud and turned to stare stonily out the window of the tearoom in which they sat. They continued to drink their beverages in silence, Montgomery’s irritation flowing toward her in almost palpable waves.
As he had planned, the ceremony was performed the fo
llowing afternoon and Monty did not place but a kiss upon her cheek at the pronouncement of their union. With that single kiss, her dreams of romantic lovemaking had flown straight from her head into the sky. Instead, he had turned to walk away from the altar which had been hastily set up in the gardens and head inside his vast estate. He had retreated to his study and Lucy had not seen him again until that night when he had come to consummate their marriage.
As Lucy sat at the breakfast table, studying his attractive face, she found herself flooded with resentment toward him.
He has only brought me here to become mistress of the manor and bear his children, she thought, horribly discouraged by the recognition. When she had first laid eyes upon him, she had been pleased with her father’s choice. He was tall and slim with an aristocratic face and serious black eyes. She imagined herself beneath his firm body, hand stoking his thick, auburn hair and losing control of her inhibitions as they formed together as one. As she had so many nights, her thighs grew wet as she envisioned their union, a mass of legs and arms entwined as hot mouths met hot juices. He would clamp her hand over her mouth, worried that her cries of passion would disturb the servants as they fused as one, hearts pounding dangerously as they climaxed in unison.
The reality had been a shocking blow to her sense of romance. She recalled the night of their wedding ceremony, a lackluster event which involved her husband rolling atop her, thrusting into her five or six times and dismounting her stunned body. She had tried to touch him lovingly, her hands caressing his face but he was set on the task at hand, heaving his hard body into her virginal core. She had silently willed him to kiss her, look at her but really, he had finished before he had started. He then retreated from her quarters quietly and a short while later, she heard him leave the house. That night, she remained awake, wondering if she had disenchanted her husband with her inexperience. She wracked her brain, trying to understand a way to make him want for her more. She ensured she was slippery in wait for him, lest he chose to visit her chambers that night, donning her most flattering nightclothes and ensuring she was in desirable positions for him. She had thoughts of taking the lead, perhaps making him lay on his back and exploring his lean frame with her mouth but she was terrified at the thought, no matter how exciting it seemed when she was alone with her fingers in the night.
Sold To The Dragon Princes: The Novel Page 90