by Golden Angel
"Not fair, hmmm?" he asked, lowering his head back down to her breast to torment her nipples with his mouth. He sucked and bit at the tender buds, his fingers pumping inside of her, and Arabella could feel her core tightening, her body yearning, surging for climax...
The bastard pulled his fingers away, leaving her empty, aching, and enraged.
But before she could truly begin to vent her frustration, his well-lubricated fingers had moved lower and were pushing against an entrance to her body that had been completely untouched until now.
"Thomas!" She shrieked his name.
"Shhh," Thomas said, nuzzling his face over her breasts as his finger stretched the virgin entrance of her ass. "You don't want to draw anyone's attention do you?"
Out in the open the way they were, if she were too loud it was a definite possibility. Arabella bit her lips, trying to clench her sore bottom cheeks together, but with her legs spread and Thomas' body between them it was impossible. His finger burrowed deeper, making her burn inside and out. It felt odd... uncomfortable... highly embarrassing... especially because her pussy continued to tingle, her orgasm accepting the sensation as new stimulation.
Oh no... she couldn't possibly climax with his finger in her bottom!
But then the heel of Thomas' hand began to rub against her clit, making her cry out, and Arabella found she didn't care so much exactly where his fingers were as long as they felt so good. Her clit throbbed against the circular motion of his hand, pulsed, and her hips lifted... his hand moved away, leaving just his finger sliding in and out of her tight hole, stretching it.
"Thomas! Please! I can't... I need..."
Her body tightened around his finger as he pressed it in deeper, burrowing into her virgin entrance, and Arabella felt tears gathering in her eyes at the riot of sensations consuming her. Tightening down around him only made the press of his finger more intense.
Teeth scraped over her nipple and she nearly screamed with the unmet need coursing through her.
"Just tell me you're sorry, sweetheart, and I'll let you come."
The dirty, cheating, bastard.
"I'm sorry you're terrible at croquet— OW!"
At her lackluster apology, Thomas had pulled his finger from her bottom and spanked her pussy. The lips swelled further, her clit throbbing from the impact, and Arabella's back arched as her body quested for more stimulation so she could fall over the edge of pleasure that she was so close to.
The bloody ratbag chuckled at her.
It was becoming very clear that she wasn't going to get what she wanted until he'd gotten what he wanted. As much as it pained her, Arabella had no doubt Thomas would enjoy sexually tormenting her until she was a quivering mass of need. She was on the verge of it already and he was obviously entirely content with the whole situation.
"Fine!" She wished she sounded more defiant, but it was very difficult when she was so desperate for his touch. "I'm sorry I was playing croquet incorrectly—but I wasn't cheating."
******
The admission was probably as good as he was going to receive—and technically she truly hadn't been cheating. But she had been playing very incorrectly, so Thomas decided he would accept it.
Part of his decision might have been motivated by the ache in his own cock. As much as he enjoyed tormenting her and watching her writhe for him, completely controlling her pleasure, he was perfectly happy to move on to the next step in the program.
Lining his cock up with her pleasure soaked opening, Thomas thrust forward hard and fast. As primed as she was, there was no need to take his time—and he doubted Arabella would thank him for it if he tried. She choked on a scream as he filled her, the silken heat of her body immediately gripping him hard and shuddering as the first thrust set off her climax.
Hooking his free arm around her leg so that her knee settled into the crook of his elbow, Thomas began to pump hard and fast into her wet heat. His other hand pressed her wrists down, keeping her trapped beneath him, her breasts bouncing freely with each hard thrust. The back of her dress would likely be ruined and for some reason the thought excited him even more.
Debauching his already wild wife could become more addictive than opium.
"Thomas!" She writhed beneath him, sobbing from the extremis of her pleasure, her cheeks flushed in the sunlight. The spread position of her pussy allowed him to see his glistening cock thrusting into her, her swollen lips tight around his shaft, and he rocked his body to further stimulate all her most sensitive parts.
Where he'd denied her before, now he drowned her in ecstasy, angling himself for maximum impact on her senses. Her cries, the movements of her body, the tight grip of her pussy around his cock all urging him onward. The sun was shining down on the back of his neck, but compared to the heat of her body it was barely noticeable.
Thomas groaned as he felt the base of his spine tingling, his balls tightening. Arabella had become nearly incoherent beneath him, so awash in erotic rapture she couldn't do more than whimper and writhe. If he hadn't been holding her down, he had no doubt his chest would be raked with evidence of her passion.
He surged, filling her completely and grinding himself against her, feeling her contract around him, her muscles milking his cock as he began to spurt inside of her. Arabella's soft, strangled cry as she arched one last time mixed with his own low gasp of pleasure. Thomas rocked against her, shuddering as he emptied the last of his seed into her clasping sheath.
Letting her leg fall, he slumped over her, propping himself up on his elbows to keep from crushing her. She let out a soft sigh, her hands relaxed above her head even though he was no longer holding them there.
Reluctantly, Thomas pulled away from the warm clasp of her body and rearranged her clothing to its normal placement. As clouds slipped over the sun, dimming the light a bit, they cuddled up to each other. Eventually, Arabella seemed to come back to herself and she started pointing out various clouds that she thought looked like something other than a cloud.
Thomas didn't quite see the point—nor did he see what she saw—but he did enjoy trying.
Later they gathered up the abandoned croquet equipment and returned it to the shed before sneaking back into the house. No one was there but the servants, but Thomas had been correct that he'd ruined the back of her gown. It was covered with stains and, despite their best combined efforts, her hair was still disheveled.
In fact, she looked the exact opposite of how he'd pictured his wife when he'd thought about his honeymoon. But as she giggled and followed along after him, hand in his as they avoided the servants going about their business, Thomas realized he was far happier with the real Arabella than with the ideal wife he'd imagined.
Even if she did cheat at croquet.
It wasn't the only thing she played with infuriating disregard for strategy, rules, and logic, he discovered in the days afterwards.
A second attempt at croquet just resulted in her being slightly sneakier, although they at least managed to finish the game before he chased her back up to the house. On the first rainy day they played chess, something which Thomas vowed never to do again. She had no actual overarching strategy, just infuriating tactics which involved clearing the board of as many of his pieces as possible. He wasn't sure she was even trying to win, just to decimate his colors.
Even more infuriatingly, she was good enough at taking his pieces and disrupting his strategy with moves that made no sense, that the game ended as a draw. So he hauled her over his lap for a spanking—as her bottom was fully recovered from the ride to Oakley Manor by then—and then showed her how to use her mouth. After which he used his to good effect.
Billiards she outright cheated at, moving balls when he wasn't looking, nudging them with the cue if she thought she could get away with it. That had earned her another spanking, and he'd kept her bent over the table while he had her from behind. Arabella had gasped and squirmed when he'd slid one of his fingers into her bottom while he was fucking her, adding to the s
timulation, but she hadn't protested.
In the mornings, once she was able, they often went for long rides which resulted in more outdoor shenanigans after they'd completed any tasks Thomas had set himself for the day. She was introduced to many of the tenants as they rode through, checking on crops and the land, and then afterwards they'd find somewhere secluded to... indulge.
Arabella, he discovered, very much had a liking for having her clothes half undone while he had his way with her all over nature. She liked it nearly as much as she liked him turning her bottom pink, and sometimes he did both at once.
Despite her stubbornness, her penchant for making mischief, and her occasionally infuriating antics, Thomas found himself walking around with a constant grin on his face and a buoyant feeling in his chest. Having to leave their little idyll for the Hydes' house party was a wrench, and he rather thought Arabella felt so too.
Yet he'd known eventually they would have to return to the real world. After the party they'd be back at the Hood estates and have to be a bit more circumspect with his parents and Mary in residence. Although Thomas certainly didn't intend to give up their morning rides.
His general demeanor was so changed, so much more cheerful and open than before, that upon arrival at the Hydes', Felix took one look at him and immediately asked: "Who are you and what have you done with my brother?"
Chapter 17
Almost as soon as they arrived at Clarendon Manor—the main Hyde residence on their estates—Thomas and Arabella found themselves separated. The women had gathered in the nursery to see the children while the men were in Lord Hyde's study. Lord Hyde's parents, who normally would be in residence, were visiting relatives in Scotland and had left the house to the younger crew.
"Aren't they precious?" Gabrielle asked, watching with fascination as Marcus, Lord Hyde's firstborn and heir, tried to show his little sister Charlotte how to play correctly with the tin soldiers he had. His efforts were in vain, to Arabella's amusement, yet he was very patient as he continued to tell her to hold them and not throw them. Gabrielle's hand drifted to her stomach, which Arabella was certain was larger than when she'd last seen it.
On Arabella's other side, Cynthia was watching the proceedings a little more dubiously. While she seemed to have settled into her new condition, she still wasn't convinced of its merits.
Across the room, Lydia was seated with Eleanor, Christina, and Cordelia and they were laughing as they chatted. It wasn’t that they weren’t all friends, but there weren’t enough seats all gathered together. Lydia's belly had an even more pronounced bump beneath her gown than Gabrielle's now did and Cordelia's matched Lydia's. Lord and Lady Brooke and Viscount Petersham and his wife Irene were due to arrive later in the afternoon, completing their party, and they would be bringing their offspring as well.
It felt more like a familial gathering than a house party, to be perfectly frank. Of course, Arabella might feel that way because her entire immediate family was present and accounted for.
She leaned in towards Gabrielle and murmured the question that sprang to her mind. "Is it odd to be increasing at the same time as your stepmother?"
"It is," Gabrielle admitted, keeping her own voice low as well. She looked across the room at where Cordelia was laughing at something Lydia had said. "I think it's helped, though. It gives us a topic to bond over and conversations have become much easier. Philip and Felix are pleased. I am as well. "
Arabella was glad to hear it. Because of the friendship of their husbands as well as their family connection, there was no way for Cordelia and Gabrielle to escape each other's company, but her friend seemed happy with the situation for the first time. The unspoken tension which she'd always observed between the two women had dissipated entirely.
Cynthia frowned at Gabrielle. “You bond over feeling miserable?”
“The same way you and I do,” Gabrielle teased. Arabella tried not to feel left out. Her hand drifted to her stomach as she imagined what having Thomas’ child might be like. Although, from Cynthia’s rather vivid descriptions of her nausea, exhaustion, and cramps (not to mention her general irritableness, the opposite of her normally sunny nature), there was quite a bit not to look forward to as well.
Then again, the others seemed to handle their condition with grace and smiles, even with their complaints.
“It’s becoming more tolerable,” Cynthia admitted. “I’m still not sure I would recommend the condition to anyone though.”
“Cordelia and Lydia seem to be doing much better,” Gabrielle said, looking over at them. They were further along in their state than the other two. As usual, Arabella was behind the rest of her friends. She sighed.
Across the room, Eleanor rose and looked around, smiling. "I do believe it's time for tea, if you'd all like to join me in the drawing room."
Which, of course they did. Arabella perked up. While seeing the children had been rather nice, especially for those who were currently increasing themselves, they couldn't really catch up when there were young ears about. Once they were alone, the ladies would be able to speak of bedroom activities, and she would finally be able to join in. That was probably why the gentlemen had taken themselves off to Edwin's study to converse; she could only imagine what scandalous masculine conversations were occurring in there.
******
"Sinclair if he's a boy, Ada if she's a girl," Philip said definitively, looking more than a little pleased with himself. All the impending fathers were practically preening as they discussed the possible names of their soon-to-be offspring. Thomas was following the conversation with slightly more academic, but still very intent, interest.
Considering how active he and Arabella were, he didn't think it would be long until they were joining the ranks of parents among their friends. Isaac and Lydia were still discussing names, as were Felix and Gabrielle; although there was plenty of time yet, it seemed Philip and Cordelia had been more decisive.
Of course, for their heirs, choosing a name was easy as most families had traditions when it came to naming the heirs. Sinclair was Philip's grandmother's name and Isaac knew his firstborn son would be named Edward after his father, but for daughters the subject was apparently a bit more fraught. The women had very firm opinions that didn't always align with the gentlemen's.
"I like Ada," Isaac said thoughtfully. He sighed. "But if it's already yours then I won't even suggest it to Lydia. There's no telling what she liked anyhow. She's already refused Gertrude, Hypatia, and Alexandra. All the names she likes are flowers."
They were all ranged around Edwin’s study, lounging on the sturdy furniture. Edwin had pulled his chair out from behind his desk so he could join them in front of the desk rather than sitting behind it. Thomas was on the couch next to his brother and Wesley, while Isaac, Benedict, and Philip had taken possession of the various armchairs. They did rather resemble the club that Wesley insisted on labeling them as.
"At least she has a preference," Felix argued. "Gabrielle doesn't like a single female name as far as I can tell. If we have a daughter she might have to remain nameless."
"You could always just put your foot down and tell her that you're making the decision," Thomas teased. His brother eyed him, the same way he had when Thomas had first arrived—almost suspiciously, like he didn't quite know what he was looking at. Thomas eyed him back. “Stop looking at me like that, I haven’t changed that much.”
“Three weeks ago you would have made that suggestion in all seriousness,” Felix said, almost accusingly. “Now, you’re teasing. And smiling.”
“I smile,” Thomas protested, rather affronted. His vehement statement drew the attention of the others, although Wesley had already been silently listening.
“You smile, but not like you have been,” Felix countered. “Now you smile for no apparent reason, which is something you’ve never done before.”
“Obviously wedlock agrees with you,” Edwin said, lifting his glass. Like the Hood brothers, he had dark hair and eyes—r
eally, he looked alike enough to them that they could have been cousins.
On either side of him, Arabella’s brothers looked torn between being pleased and like they really didn’t want to know exactly why Thomas was smiling so much. Thomas didn’t really know what to say. He hadn’t thought he’d changed, but all of his friends were now discussing what they’d noticed about him, joking that all he’d needed was a wife to loosen him up.
Felix joked that it was likely he’d specifically needed Arabella, since the wife who fit Thomas’ infamous list would never have had the same effect. There was enough truth in that to make Thomas feel vaguely uncomfortable. Even if he’d had the thought himself, he didn’t like his brother being right. Something else he and Arabella had in common.
Still, he manfully swallowed the teasing, feeling far more mellow about it than he thought he might have.
After all, he was happy. Why should he quibble about something as unimportant as his old idea of the perfect wife?
******
As soon as the ladies were settled in the drawing room with their tea, Cynthia immediately cut off the socially acceptable conversation of the beautiful weather.
Leaning forward over her tea, she skewered Arabella with her gaze.
“So? Does he spank you?” The question, while utterly inappropriate, was asked in the regal tone of Cynthia at her most haughty, playing the part of her husband’s countess, and was so abrupt and out-of-the-blue that Arabella’s startled answer flew from her lips before she could even think about lying.
“Yes.” She nearly dropped her cup as her hand jerked, she instinctively wanted to raise it to cover her traitorous mouth. A hot blush immediately surged to her cheeks, turning them bright red as all eyes focused on her. All of them from women whom she knew were spanked wives, all of them who had heard her say she would never allow her husband to spank her—much less enjoy it.