Chapter 39
"What ya say, love?" Kyle looked at me, hope flickering in his eyes.
No, Kyle, we do not need children. Seeing Millicent and Vincent had already unearthed emotions I had long believed to be lost. Adding another person would only complicate matters further. Let me be selfish, just this once.
But I softened my voice, choosing my words carefully. "Kyle, look at us," I said gently. "We are both limited. Would it not weigh upon you if we were to raise a child that was not our own, only to fail them? That child could be taken in by a family better suited, one that could provide far more than we ever could." I kept my tone steady, as if my own emotions were not tangled.
Kyle cast his gaze downward. "Yeah… yeah, you're right, love. I'm sorry. I guess I just got a bit ahead o' myself."
This poor man looked as though he were about to cry. I leaned into his arms, wrapping mine around him in an attempt to soothe whatever ache my words had left behind. He held me back, gentle as ever, his warmth pressing against my guilt.
"I'm glad I have you," he murmured into my hair. "You keep me steady, always makin' sure I ain't runnin' off with my fool ideas. I love you, Ann."
The guilt twisted deep. I, his wife, was entangled in thoughts of someone else. Perhaps I should toss my own name into that wretched lost cause basket as well. Truly, I had been doing well. I had been content. Why, then, did Millicent have to step into my life once more and unravel it all?
I blinked, and in an instant, I found myself seated in the study of Baron Fondy's mansion, a shudder crawled down my spine. Across from me, Benjamin and Jim lay slumped over the desk, their breaths slow and even in the depths of slumber.
Since when had I come here? I had no recollection of arriving, no memory of stepping foot into this study. My fingers rose to press against my forehead. Surely, I must be unwell. Was I suffering from some insidious malady?
The absurdity of it gnawed at me, so much so that I pinched the skin of my arm. Pain flared in response. This was no dream. By all that was holy, was my mind now betraying me as well? Since when had I developed such a cursed affliction as absentmindedness?
I exhaled heavily and surrendered to the desk as the children had, resting my head against the cool surface. Was this an omen of my imminent demise?
My gaze idly traced the towering bookshelves lining the wall, my thoughts momentarily stilling in the quiet. Outside the window, birds chirped in harmonious indifference to my plight. The serenity of the moment lured my mind backward, further and further, until I found myself in Millicent's study.
How many days had I spent there, curled upon the plush sofa, a book open in my lap, though more often than not, I scarcely read a word? The only sounds had been the rustling of parchment, the steady scratching of her quill against paper. And I, caught in the folly of my heart, had watched her instead. The way she worked with such quiet intensity, the way her golden hair cascaded over her shoulder as she leaned over her desk.
One afternoon, I sat curled upon the sofa with a book opened primly in my lap, though the words had long since dissolved into nothing. My eye was fixed on her, and my thoughts were utterly unholy. My womanhood pulsed and dripped with indecent hunger. Quite frankly, I was in heat. And it was entirely her doing.
We had indulged in so many intimate acts I had lost count, and now my body behaved like some depraved creature of instinct. Was I always this ungovernably lustful?!
"I see you," Millicent said, casting me a mischievous smirk.
Yes, well, I should hope you do, you demon! Your monstrous cock has been haunting my thoughts like a ghost with an agenda. I do not even know how I came to find such a thing arousing. I blame that delicate face of hers. It is sorcery, plain and simple. Last night she had teased me into madness, only to vanish for some blasted work affair, leaving me wretched and aching.
She set her quill aside with slowness, her eyes never leaving mine as she rose to her feet. With her hands clasped behind her back, she approached at an unhurried pace. My heart stuttered like a fool, and my shameful body began to ready itself.
I set my book down with haste.
Just that… walk faster, woman!
"I believe I know what it is you truly desire," she mused, tilting her head in mock contemplation.
I swallowed. "And what might that be, Your Grace?" I asked, my voice steadier than I felt.
"Certainly not a walk in the gardens."
I did not need a mirror to confirm that I was blushing. "Well, I must confess, I do not feel inclined to take a stroll at present, so you are correct."
She hummed, drawing closer. "Certainly not an outing with Cecilia."
"I do enjoy outings with Cecilia, but Mr. Beltmore took her and Laura horseback riding today."
"How fortunate for them. I have noticed Issac has been rather fond of taking them out of late. Perhaps I should tell him to lessen these excursions so you may spend more time with them?"
"No!" The word escaped before I could stop it.
She chuckled, and at last, she reached me. "I suppose I am out of guesses, then," she murmured as she lowered herself onto the sofa beside me. Her fingers threaded into my hair and drew me toward her. My heart pounded, anticipation coiled in my chest.
Her breath lingered against the sensitive skin of my neck before she pressed a slow kiss there. A shiver coursed down my spine. She did not move to my lips, no, she remained there, at the same spot, lips brushing, teasing, igniting a fire that spread through me.
I wanted to scream. What manner of sensual torture was this? Hurry along, woman!
At the corner of my vision, I caught sight of her arousal, straining against the thin fabric of her gown, shameless in its display. The sight only stoked the heat burning within me.
Enough.
With a sudden motion, I pushed her onto her back, straddling her with intent. A soft and sweet gasp escaped her lips as I pressed my body against hers, feeling the evidence of her desire beneath me.
"You," I murmured, the heat upon my cheeks exposing my lingering shyness. I leaned in. "What I want… is you."
I did not wait for more. I moved against her, my hips shifting, grinding against her manhood. Moans escaped her throat. Our hands moved, tearing away the barriers between us, save for our garters and stockings.
We sought each other with a feverish desperation, as though the moment might slip through our fingers if we did not seize it now, here, in the sanctity of stolen time.
I lowered myself, taking her hardened member into my hands, stroking her with a practiced touch I knew would unravel her restraint, teasing the head with soft, wet kisses.
"Ngh! Please hurry… Florence," sultry soft moans escaped her lips, her fingers digging into the sofa, thighs quivering, chest heaving.
Well now, how delightful. Look who is begging.
Moments such as these were the only instances in which I could wield power over her, the formidable Duchess reduced to a trembling, breathless creature beneath my touch.
I had not the heart to torment her further. And truth be told, I was desperate myself.
Her member was too large and my mouth could barely envelop the tip, yet that had never deterred me before. I traced my tongue over the sensitive head, laving it with slow, teasing strokes, tasting the heat of her desire. My hands worked in tandem, coaxing her into madness. The more I aroused her, the more my own need ignited. My sex throbbed and my wetness slipped down my thighs. I reached for her breast, seized her pretty nipple between my fingers, and gave it a sharp squeeze.
"Ahn!"
"Mmm…" I moaned against her shaft, drawing her spend into my mouth. Her taste was intoxicating, delicious. I licked and sucked with eager hunger, my fingers toying with her nipple.
"Uhm… haugh… agh…"
I flicked her nipple.
"Ah!" she gasped and I pressed my tongue into the slit of her flesh, parting it just enough to taste her deeper.
"Eut!" she jerked back but I followed without pause, dragging my tongue across her crown. Watching this woman squirm was devastatingly arousing.
She held my head and began to thrust her thick tip in my mouth. My poor sex was aching with want, but I left it untouched. The restraint only sharpened the heat, promising a far sweeter climax when at last I gave in.
"Agh! Haa…ah!" Her hips quickened as my tongue eagerly circled her shaft. "Uhn!"
She rose above me and my hands found balance on her thighs. Her breasts bounced enticingly with each thrust. Heavens, my nipples ached as I watched, desperate to be touched. I shall never tire of the sight of her full bouncing breasts. My juices had soaked my stockings.
I parted my lips wider to invite her deeper, yet she remained careful and refused to harm me. Did she think me some fragile porcelain doll? Yes, perhaps my mouth was not made to fit that cursed great sword, but truly, must we not at least attempt it?
Still, perhaps I ought to be grateful she was not ramming it down like a brute. Very well then. Time to employ other talents.
I released one thigh and grasped her length firmly, matching my strokes to her rhythm.
"Heugh… haa… uhm…"
She thrust a few more times then withdrew. With gentle insistence, she helped me from my knees onto the floor. I felt my face heated at her care. She knew my weakened knee could only bear so much strain. Reclining against the sofa, I found myself perfectly placed between her thighs as she stepped closer, bending her knees and sliding her flesh once more past my eager lips. One hand gripped the sofa, the other cradled my head.
She began thrusting again. I stroked her with one hand, while the other rubbed the spot between the base of her length and her rear. That one place that always broke her.
"Ungh…" she whimpered, thighs trembling. "Florence…" her hips moved quicker. Her length swelled in my hand. She was close. My own breath quickened, heat building fast as my sex twitched and leaked more. I parted my legs, imagining her thickness pressing in, filling me deep.
Strange, how imagination alone could stir me more than being split by the whole beast and left in tears. In my view, sex ought to bring pleasure, not agony. I am not a martyr. I prefer ecstasy over injury, thank you very much.
"Mmmm," I moaned against her flushed length. My release crept nearer. I stroked and rubbed her faster, my tongue working with the desperate fervor of some deranged succubus. Our moans filled the study. Sweat clung to our skin as we climbed toward ruin.
Warmth spilled into my throat as she released the sound I adore the most. Our bodies shook with pleasure. My mind slipped into bliss as my juices gushed freely from my sex. Most of her spend escaped my lips. In my ecstasy, I had forgotten to swallow my well-earned reward!
She lowered herself beside me, took my nipple in her mouth, and rubbed my clit with fast fingers. I jolted. I was still raw from the last wave, this woman needed to learn the concept of intermission. I am not made of steel!
"Ahhh," I cried out as another release tore through me, wetting her hand.
She pulled me away from the sofa and my back fell to the floor. Then she settled between my legs and kissed my mouth, still wet with her own spend, while her hips pressed forward, her thick length grinding against my needy sex. The sensation was maddening.
And so, we began again.