AgeofInnocence (4 page)

The door between their rooms creaked open.

“Ferd?”

“Go to bed, Lettie, I’m tired.”

“I know. Me too.”

Her soft footfalls tracked across the room. Her hand touched
the back of his head and tenderly swept his face before she stood in front of
him. Her scent permeated the air around him. The drink had softened his will
and his gaze searched her body. She was barely covered by a sheer gown that
left little to his already overworked imagination.

He throbbed and ached. His cock was brutally hard and heavy.
He was thankful he’d left his trousers on. She dropped one hand to his knee and
then knelt between his legs. She lovingly caressed his covered thighs.

“The picnic was lovely today.”

“Yes.”

“I hope we do it again. Soon.”

Ferd sipped at his drink, staring at her. Her breasts would
be more than a handful and his palms burned with pain, itching to touch and
knead them. His mouth watered at the thought of drawing those luscious nipples
into his mouth. She didn’t need to do anything. He felt dangerously close to
release and they were both clothed. Mostly.

“I want you, Ferd. Very much.”

Gawd!

Her eyes were limpid pools, desire swimming in her shimmery
gaze. Ferd struggled to breathe.

Oh yes, she was mad. In the way of witches who seduced
mortal men.

She caressed his stomach with the back of her hand. His
muscles contracted. When she leaned forward, her breasts were heavy against his
thighs. Where her lips touched, he burned.

He couldn’t watch without the threat of an untimely release.
He closed his eyes and leaned his head against the cushions. His body was
painfully alive. Each beat of his heart thrummed hard against his chest.
Pulsing surges of his blood thudded in his ear and at his neck. His cock jumped
in short, regular spasms.

And most of all, her hands and fingers danced in light
caresses, causing shivery waves to spike through his body.

When her hands worked at his trousers, slipping the buttons
with ease and peeling back the fall, Ferd was sure that at any moment he would
spill the sac of fluid onto her hands or his body.

The cool air gave him a moment of relief and he gulped in a
lungful of air.

When she sucked his cock into her mouth, Ferd’s eyes flew
open and he gasped. He dug his hands into the cushioned armrests. His thighs
clenched against her sides. He couldn’t take his gaze from the sight of her
luscious mouth taking him deep. Her lips were tight against his flesh and she
stroked upward and then used her tongue to swipe across the sensitive, wet cap
of his cock.

He felt his body curl forward as the welling release surged
through his body. There was no way to stop it. He could not even warn her.

He groaned when the semen burst from his cock. Each surge
caused his hips to jerk into her mouth. With the final burst, he leaned back,
reaching for his cock to gently take it from her. She had wiped him clean and
licked at her lips as she sat back on her haunches. Her breasts were thrust out
in invitation, but Ferd could not look at his wife, knowing he had forced her
to swallow his fluid.

She laughed. Ferd turned cold.

“Please go back to your room, Lettie. Now.”

He turned his gaze away from her and covered his groin with
the edge of the robe.

“But don’t you—”

“I want to be alone.”

She reached for his hand. “I’m sorry. I thought you would
like it.”

He would like it if, just once, he could manage the
excruciating excitement long enough to…

“Go.”

No more was said. She swept by him, her scent again stirring
the air around him. The door clicked shut and finally he could breathe.

He dropped his head back onto the cushion and relived the
short, thrilling moment of ecstasy. Never had he imagined anything so
incredible. His cock jumped to life again as he thought of those few minutes of
touching and licking, as he recounted the best sexual experience he’d ever had.
He stroked his erection under the cool silkiness of his robe.

The moment her mouth had covered his cock, he was lost. And
he knew he would savor it for days to come. Even now, his balls tightened. He
could think of nothing to distract himself or slow his arousal. He worked his
hands, so familiar with his own needs, to bring about another pleasurable
release. When he came, he thrust his hips as if he were pushing into her mouth.
What would it be like inside her sweet, tight sheath?

He moaned lightly and tugged as another stream of semen
spilled from his body.

Come morning, he knew he would wake harder than an iron
pike.

How he would enjoy having his wife’s mouth rouse him from
sleep.

Seeing Lettie was going to be the most difficult thing in
the world. How did a man look at such a woman and not want to throw her to the
floor and ravish her? Or succumb to her womanly wiles and allow her to do with
him as she pleased, regardless of his quick release and doubtlessly dull
amusement?

If she had not laughed, what might have happened? How might
he have taken advantage of her evident willingness?

How might he again?

For the first time, Ferd weighed the idea of being
humiliated by the sexual act against the idea of never again experiencing his wife’s
mouth on his cock.

* * * * *

Lettie leaned against the door and placed her hands over her
mouth.

What had she done wrong?

Had her forwardness offended him? Had her willingness to
pleasure him confirmed some rumor he had heard about her?

Was he scandalized by her willingness to use her mouth? Or
swallow his fluid?

She had been so happy with his quick response. She’d
laughed. Arousing her older husbands had been a chore at times—the labor of
getting them hard or the frustration of them going soft during the act. They
had both said they desired her, but she had not always felt desired.

Her pleasure was secondary, though she did find satisfaction
in the marriage bed. That too could be a labor, but well worth it if she
carefully encouraged them.

Just that short time with Ferd had exhilarated her senses.
He was hard and muscled—his stomach ridged and his thighs bulged. She had
restrained herself, but she would have liked nothing more than to tear at his
clothes.

She ran her hands over her breasts. Oh, how she wanted.

She hated to compare, but she couldn’t help it. Ferd was
near perfect. And his cock was luscious as she took the exquisitely soft and
strangely firm manhood into her mouth. His length was such she could not even
take him all in.

Lettie hurried to her bed and lifted the light rail over her
head. When she was naked, she crawled into bed and lay on her stomach. The
sheets were abrasive against her nipples but she squirmed against the unlikely
pleasure anyway.

Reaching under her body and between her legs, she searched
for that swollen nub she knew to be key to her pleasure. Her hips moved in time
with the gentle circling and the sweet touch as she pushed one and then two
fingers into her body.

Long past embarrassment about her activities, Lettie used
the knowledge to provide release for her pent-up frustrations, as she had since
Harold had died. And before.

With a strong, responsive husband in the room next to hers,
it wasn’t difficult to imagine how bedding him might be. The throbbing between
her legs turned into a pleasant tightness that started low in her back. She
clenched the muscles between her legs and held for long seconds as the pulsing
escalated.

She turned her head into her pillow and moaned softly as she
soared and then relaxed while the strong beats pulsed between her legs.

It was probably too late to convince Ferd they should go
away together. There would be no excuses, only the joy of exploring each other
the way young lovers should.

With each of her marriages, her bed had seemed lonelier than
when she was single.

Tonight it was loneliest of all.

She would admit that she had hopes—allowed them to build
during the six weeks of their engagement. Her hopes and dreams had been for
something better than her other two marriages combined. Maybe his looks and
faultless reputation had deceived her. Maybe there was a reason he had not been
excited about intimacy with her.

Lettie pressed her fingers to her lips, considering the
possibilities. One she had not thought of before—was her husband a virgin?

His physical reaction was strong and swift, all the
assurance she should need to confirm his enjoyment. If he did not come to her
tonight, she must try again.

The next morning, Ferd was meticulously polite but unwilling
to hold her gaze for any length of time. They had a round of callers, he took
her walking in the park and they supped together before he announced his plans
to visit one of his clubs while she took herself to one of the small soirées to
which she had accepted an invitation.

A certain standoffishness was evident in his desire to be
with other people and not alone with her. But no matter, she would have plenty
of time to prepare for his return, including a long bath and a careful
application of perfumes and her best night rail.

She wondered how long she would have to wait or what her
reception might be when she entered his room for the second night. By one in
the morning, she heard his footfalls and the shuffle of light footsteps in his
room. He must have discarded his boots quickly, because then she heard only the
soft voices of Ferd talking with his valet.

When at last there was no more sound, and ten more minutes
on top of that, she knocked lightly on his door and entered his room. The scene
was much like the night before. Ferd sat in his overstuffed chair, wearing the
same silky robe and holding a drink.

The scent of cigars and whiskey permeated the air, a sure
indication of time spent amongst other men. His hair was mussed and his hooded
gaze told her he was slightly foxed.

Ferd said nothing, but when she appeared in front of him, he
sipped from his glass while he stared at her, taking in the sight of her bare
body. When he emptied his glass, he set it aside. His gaze did not waver.

Lettie slipped from the robe and knelt between his legs. She
pushed his robe aside to find he was as naked as she. Ferd might not have
expressed his wishes, but his position, his nakedness, his lack of denial,
spoke the affirmation he would not.

His cock, already fully erect, was the final confirmation of
how welcome she was to rouse him with her mouth again.

Thick muscles bunched beneath her palms when she placed her
hands against his thighs. Coarse hair tickled her palms as she ran her hands up
and down his legs. She bent slightly, allowing her breasts to dangle temptingly
before she brushed them over his skin and upward toward his cock, which she
trapped between her breasts while placing tender kisses on his chest and then
on each of his hard-disked nipples.

Each touch seemed to bring him pain, as his breath hitched
and his body tensed under her assault.

She undulated, rubbing his cock between her breasts. One of
his hands grasped the back of her neck, fingers entwined in her hair as he
pulled her away and then slowly forced her mouth toward his cock. She did not
acknowledge his wishes, instead she cupped his testes and squeezed until he
moaned.

Suffering was so sweet when it involved sexual want. Lettie
was feeling that want between her legs and high up in her sheath. Having Ferd
throw her to the carpeted floor and thrust into her would have had her
screaming.

When she deigned to give him relief, she caressed his
erection, using her finger to circle the ridged ring around his cock. His
testes appeared hard, on the verge of release. Lettie gripped the thick root
until she saw him take a deep breath and sag back into the chair. He gasped for
breath.

Finally she allowed him the pleasure he so obviously wanted.

Licking her lips, she opened her mouth and took his length,
as much as she could, deep into her mouth.

Ferd uttered, “Gawd, Lettie,” before both hands cupped her
head and forced her into an up-and-down movement that suited him. Her lips were
tight around his circumference and she used her tongue to bathe the underside
of his cock.

She had no plans to swallow him tonight, for fear the act
had disgusted him last night, but within a few minutes he was on the verge and,
at his urging, she took him deep. His cock jerked with each release and the
warmth of his semen filled her mouth before she could swallow.

The last swipe was the sweetest as she licked around the
shrinking head and pulled away. She kissed his manhood a few times, taking in
the musky scent of his body that seemed as much a part of him as the thatch of
hair surrounding his now sleeping body parts.

On her haunches, she watched him, waiting for some
indication of what else he wanted.

He finally gazed at her fully. His slipped his fingers into
her hair and then caressed her face. “You are so beautiful, Lettie.”

She drew her hands over his thighs again and up his stomach.
How would she ever tire of seeing such a man?

When he pushed his robe together and then closed his eyes,
she recognized the unspoken dismissal. At least he hadn’t been upset.

Any doubt that she had about him wanting her was put to
rest. She thought he wanted her very much, but did not know how to express that
want.

Lettie had learned much patience in her two marriages. If it
took a month of sucking his cock until he knew how to express what else she
might do for him, she could wait.

Ferd had waited for her, had hoped she would come into his
room and place her luscious mouth over his cock.

She had not laughed. Even her smile had been sweet and
accepting.

And as good as it was, his cock deep in her mouth and his
release spilling fully, he had lasted several long minutes that had been both
exhilarating and excruciating.

Panic had welled up in him a few times as his arousal seemed
without control and his release imminent. What had she done? How had she
controlled him? Then he remembered the tight grip at the base of his shaft and,
while somewhat painful, how he had felt the subsidence of his ejaculation.

He had not thought about his cock inside her body, not with
her mouth wrapped around him, but now that he was relaxed and feeling more in
control, he wondered how wonderful the final act would be, if he could stay
hard inside her while thrusting into her tight, wet sheath. And what if he
could go longer?

His cock stirred a little at that thought, which did not
want to go away. When he was fully hard once again, he jumped to his feet and
sought out another drink. It took another hour before his riotous thoughts were
tamed.

Lettie was vivid in his dreams that night and he woke in the
throes of not one, but two, extreme wet dreams, both while he was on his
stomach and thrusting into his mattress. He had a vague sense of suffocating
between her breasts and another where she had swallowed all of him—cock and
balls—while he’d stood naked at the Duchess of Pelham’s ball, drinking ratafia
and discussing a horse race at Newmarket.

His horse had won.

During the day, Ferd was not sure what to do with his wife.

He lived in her home. She had her routine. The servants were
deferential but looked to her for guidance and each time he walked into the
spacious library there was the stark realization that nothing in it was his.

The only thing in the home that belonged to him was Lettie
and he found adapting to marriage an uncomfortable and troublesome affair.

He spent another day about town but without Lettie. His
friends were jovial and welcoming but there was a difference. He was a married
man now.

And, curse it, he craved to be back at Whitfield House, if
not with her at least watching her. There was an incongruity between the
organized, efficient woman of the house and the wanton wench who had knelt
between his legs the last two nights.

She had secured an agreement from him to attend a ball
tonight, at which he would normally have spent time playing cards. Instead, he
danced with her twice and the rest of the time he spent with his back up
against the wall so he was facing the dance floor at all times.

At least he understood more of the rumors about her. Lettie
had a
joie de vivre
that was hard to explain, let alone capture. She
wasn’t quite decorous but one couldn’t say she was misbehaved either.

“She
will
go home with you, Ford,” Charles Standifer
teased.

“Now that he has her, he doesn’t know what to do with her,”
someone to his right said.

He wasn’t really listening. Lettie was waltzing with a
viscount who seemed to pull her body close to his at every turn.

“Ford, why not join me in a game of cards? Tonight I think I
would take all of your money along with half of your wife’s and you wouldn’t
even notice,” Standifer said.

“Sure,” he mumbled.

His drink had grown warm. He wasn’t hungry enough to stay
for the late supper so he called for their carriage. Lettie found him as he was
walking into the ballroom to fetch her.

“We’re going home?” she asked as she entwined her arm in
his.

“Yes. You don’t mind, do you?”

“I will never mind when I get to go home with the most
handsome man in the room.”

Ferd blushed and then glanced around to see who might have
observed his reaction.

“We are married, Ferd. Everyone expects us to leave early.”
She smiled and raised her brows enticingly. “And frankly, I would wager they
are all jealous.”

“Of me? No.”

“Yes. And they are all imagining what will happen in the
carriage between now and our arrival home.”

“Lettie.”

“Ferd,” she mimicked before accepting the short pelisse that
matched her gown.

Evidently he did not have much of an imagination when it
came to carriage rides. He was, however, starting to understand his wife’s
gazes.

“Sit here, with me,” she said as the carriage jerked and
then began a smooth roll forward. She patted the cushion.

Ferd threw aside his hat and scooted beside her. She clasped
his hand and held it close to her body, while sitting shoulder to shoulder. He
felt as though he trapped her in the corner. She squirmed for a better
position. “Are you comfortable?” he asked.

“I will be.”

Her skirts rustled and then he felt her warm thigh against
the back of his hand. Whatever she did, she did it well. She made him
breathless with such ease. “Touch me, Ferd. Here.”

Her drawer ties were loose. She pressed his hand forward
between her legs, which were spread wide and inviting. His cock was tight in
his breeches. The wet heat drew him. He’d never explored a woman in such a way.
He’d fumbled around with the bar wench but had taken no notice of what was
between a woman’s legs. Lettie, however, was hard to deny. So were curiosity
and instinct and lust.

Now? The slit between her thighs felt like a bit of heaven.
Sweet, wet heat bathed his fingers. Her hand rested on the back of his. She
directed him to a swollen nub at the apex and encouraged him to circle, her own
finger tracing the same path with him.

She turned her face into his neck. “Yes, Ferd.” She moaned a
bit, the warmth of her breath caressing his skin. “That’s so nice.”

A little embarrassment crept over him. He had never given
thought to a woman’s pleasure. He had thought only about his release and how he
had felt.

“Like this?” he asked, his voice nearly choking. When he
started a gentle exploration, he felt a new curiosity about what lay between
his wife’s thighs that caused her to inhale sharply. Her breathy sigh was
enough to encourage him. Her palm caressed his cheek and urged him to face her.
She pressed her lips to his and opened her mouth, using her tongue to excite
him.

Ferd’s pursuits in boxing and racing and fencing kept him
strong, but her determined assault on his senses left him breathless and weak.

He opened his mouth to hers, copying her manner. Her tongue
was sleek and seductive as she battled with his, but he noticed that he was
winning the battle each time he caressed in a certain way between her legs. She
sighed into his mouth and melted into his arms. Each moan encouraged him and
she seemed delighted by his amateurish efforts to please her.

Because he did want to.

The carriage came to a sudden stop.

Ferd withdrew his hand quickly and sat up. “We’re home.”

Lettie’s head leaned against the cushioned squabs with her
eyes closed. Her hands batted at her skirts until her legs were covered. Her
jaw was clenched tight.

“Are you ready?” he asked quietly.

“Yes.”

Ferd opened the door and then reached back for his wife.
They were quiet as they mounted the steps to their front door and then took the
long stroll up the curved stairs leading to their rooms. He led her to her
door. “Good night, Lettie.”

She placed her hand on his chest and smiled.

If a gaze could speak, hers was inviting him into her room.
Almost, he thought he could enter and perform his duty as a husband and a man.
Almost.

His reaction to Lettie had been nothing short of lascivious.
Completing the sex act with her without deep embarrassment was an unlikely
possibility. Even now, his cheeks heated.

A glass or two of whiskey might tame some of the craving in
his belly.

“I need you, Ferd,” she whispered once his back was turned.
He kept walking and then hurried down the stairs.

An hour wasn’t enough time to cure him, but he finally gave
up and went to his room. Before he’d gotten up from his chair, he had already
been thinking about her and her mouth. He had been obsessing about it for two
days. With each setting of the sun, it was as if his body had its own clock
that demanded one thing.

When he opened the door, he saw that she was waiting for
him. She was curled in his chair where they had engaged the last two nights.
She stood and approached him. All of her nakedness was visible, accented only
by a sheer white rail. He wondered if her night wardrobe included only such
enchantments and what she would do come winter.

Reaching for his cravat, she began the slow, laborious task
of unknotting Clark’s masterpiece. His hands ached to touch her nakedness.
Instead, he gazed at the secrets of her body—the perfect roundness of her
breasts and the luring valley between. When she moved her arms he caught
glimpses of her contoured hips, but the dimness in the room prevented him from
enjoying the sights and secrets between her legs.

Each piece of his clothing was removed with slow, deliberate
tenderness. Her hands skated over his skin and caressed lovingly over certain
parts of his of body. She seemed fascinated by his chest and arms, but then he
was still wearing his trousers.

She took his hand and led him toward the bed. A mild
resistance welled up in him. Anxiety took hold. “No. Do what you did last
night. Make it last,” he said.

For him, the bed was a dangerous place with women. She
agreed with a smile but urged him closer to the bed until he was sitting and
then lying on his back with his booted feet still planted firmly on the floor.
Her hands worked at the fall of his trousers and she quickly peeled back the
flaps and exposed his cock.

Lettie shed her robe and stood gloriously naked. He had
never seen a woman completely naked before. There was too much to see and he
couldn’t stop his gaze from flitting downward and then up again before his gaze
settled on her breasts.

His palms itched and a raw hunger burned in his chest.

Her smile was angelic, his response demonic. He wanted to
explore and devour her. The violence of his need caused him to tremble.

With only the smallest encouragement, he felt that he could ravish
her over and over again.

Already he felt the pent-up rush of excitement and the
imminent discharge of semen only this time it was much worse. He grit his
teeth, trying to retain some control.

She used her hand at the base of his cock again, somehow knowing
when he was past the dangerous place. Then when she took him in, his hips
rocked into her mouth. His gaze was torn between the sight of his cock
disappearing in and out of her mouth and her breasts, which dangled and swayed
temptingly close to his upper thighs.

Desperate pleasure consumed him as he submitted to her
experienced hands. This time when he ejaculated, she freed him and they both
watched the jerky discharge spill across his groin and stomach. His cock danced
and bobbed. Lettie tenderly stroked his testes.

He sucked in a deep breath and closed his eyes. It was good
to feel something other than thorough awkwardness, although he wasn’t sure if
the selfish domination that replaced his embarrassment was any better.

Lettie straddled him, lowering her woman’s center over the
top of his now shriveled cock. A rush of air escaped from his mouth at the
contact. He was being consumed by the burning need he had for her. Even his
thoughts were a blaze of confusion and desire and obsession.

She braced her hands against his chest, her fingernails
scoring the hardness of his pectorals.

When she started slow undulations over his cock, rubbing his
soft member against the velvety smooth lips between her legs, Ferd knew a
different kind of need.

Her body writhed against him, their joining slick from his
semen. Sounds of flesh meeting flesh—wet, sticky and noisy—should have
embarrassed him, but it only made him more desperate. His hands crept up her
thighs and then cupped her bottom. His hips seemed to thrust in time with her
movements, and by slow degrees, his cock thickened. His knowledge of pleasure
was simple and untried. He believed that her mouth brought intense pleasure,
and it did, but this was something altogether better.

She labored over him, her eyes closed and her mouth forming
a round O. Her body undulated, her breasts heaving and swaying, all the while
her passage stroked and cradled his thickening shaft. Whimpers emanated from
her in breathy gasps. Perhaps he sounded just as desperate as he moaned under
her assault.

Another release built in him.

Lettie appeared pained, her jaw tight and her hips moving
with slow, determined purpose. She leaned forward so the tip of his cock
touched her woman’s center and then pushed back hard, taking him deep into her
body.

He tensed, enduring the gentle, slow slide. Her waiting
sheath gripped and pulled at his cock, devouring him by slow, torturous degrees
until his world seemed to go dark.

If only time would stop.

Ferd groaned, knowing he wouldn’t last. But the joy of being
inside her body made humiliation seem such a small thing. She slid up and down
a few times—he didn’t know or care, it might have been a thousand.

She screamed while her body clutched his cock. His vision
dimmed for a moment and then his release spiked as though a hundred suns burned
him. His hips jerked in several awkward, uncontrollable spasms. The heat of
embarrassment, the consuming violence of sex—all of it culminating in a need so
vast and so unexplainable, he felt he might die. Or cry.

Lettie melted over him, her naked body heated like an ember,
warming him in places where he had not known he was cold. Gently he wrapped his
hands around her. Once they both breathed normally again, he waited for her to
move, only she was sleeping. The light puff of her breath tickled against his
chest hairs in a steady, deep rhythm. He needed to move them before he fell
asleep too.