Flesh: Alpha Males and Taboo Tales (17 page)

"I am so sorry... why am I crying? What happened? What was that?"

"That was your release, your climax." He grinned. "It is not just men that issue seed, you see."

"I... oh. And you...?"

"I have not had my moment."

"Is it like that for you?" Eliza's mind was ablaze. She felt burned new from within.

"Yes, somewhat."

"Then you must..." she moved her hips slightly, to urge him on.

"Of course.
But... up onto your knees, turn around."

Blindly she obeyed him, letting him help her onto all fours. He pushed her skirts firmly up around her waist. She looked down to see her breasts were hanging down, swinging freely, and a wash of shame came over her – until Kit's broad brown hand curved around her body and took hold of her tits and squeezed, tweaking her nipples and making her shiver in fresh excitement.

"Open your legs a little wider," he instructed.

"But this is as the beasts do," she said, even as she shifted her knees apart.

He ran his hand from her breast to her rump, high in the air, and caressed the swell of her bottom. "Sometimes a man is a beast," he said in a low, thoughtful voice. "Sometimes, all we want to do is
rut-"
and with that last word, he thrust his cock deep into her bruised and sodden pussy, and she gasped with fresh pain and pleasure. His strong hands held her hips firm and he was soon slamming into her.

The violence and the force of his brutal pounding made new tears spring to her eyes even as she felt the strange building of pleasure once more in her belly. She wanted him to stop – and to carry on, harder and faster and more, and she moaned, pushing her buttocks back in time to meet his grinding pelvis.

"Oh fuck," Kit started to groan. "Fucking hell, Eliza, fucking hell...."

The obscenities he was grating out aroused her even more and she felt the climax close within her. With a shout, Kit slammed as hard and as deep as he could and then, without warning, dragged his cock out of her and she felt a warm stickiness flood the flesh of her buttock and thighs.

"Ahhh..." Kit was breathing heavily. She twisted round to look over her shoulder, and saw he had his cock in his hand and it was glistening with thick ropes of whiteness, which spread over her own skin. His seed.

"Oh..."

He met her eyes and smiled. "You see? Safe from getting babies, just as I said."

Eliza felt
a weariness heavy in her limbs and her legs were shaking. She let herself fall to one side, propping herself up with one arm as she rested back in the straw. "Dear lord. I am no longer a maid."

Kit set about cleaning up with a business like purpose, using a handful of straw to remove the worst of his issue from himself and from Eliza's exposed legs. "No, you are now a woman. And how does this adventure feel?"

"Like I'm new, and I never want to go home to my old life! Kit, take me with you!"

His face darkened and he shook his head. "You know that cannot be. This was but a moment in both our lives. And once you have regained your breath, I shall put you atop my horse again and return you to the hall."

"But – "

Eliza gathered her skirts around herself and watched as Kit stood up. He wouldn't meet her eyes. Brusquely, he dressed quickly and straightened himself out. He slid into his coat and picked Eliza's cloak from the floor, holding it out to her impatiently. "Won't they be worrying about you?"

"Kit, I meant no harm. What's the matter?" Eliza rose unsteadily to her feet, and wrestled her bodice back into position. "Please, will you re-tie my laces?"

Kit flung her cloak over his arm and nodded. She turned to the wall and he began to tighten the bodice. "Look Eliza, this was just fun. You asked for adventure before marriage, and that's what I've given you. You mustn't expect more. I gave you no cause, did I?"

"No, you didn't. I am sorry. I understand, and I don't hold you to anything." As she spoke she felt dull and sad. "It's all right. Just take me home."

He tied the knot and spun her around to face him. "Hey, don't cry. You've just done something incredible, you know. Take it with you, these memories."

"Yes. I know."

Eliza wanted, more than anything, to sleep in her own wide bed.
"Back to the hall, then."

It was an uncomfortable ride back to the edges of the grounds of the big house. Physically she was sore, and mentally she was exhausted. And she felt small and silly for asking him to take her with him. How gauche! They barely spoke. At the low stone wall that marked the boundary, she slid off, and Kit dismounted to kiss her hand and make a low bow.

"Miss Eliza. Truly, it was a pleasure."

"The pleasure was all mine."

"Oh no, I must protest," Kit winked. "I certainly had a moment of pleasure myself. You may have noticed." Cheekily he moved from bowing like a gentleman to patting her on the rump like the doxy in the tavern, tapping her where his seed had marked her. His grin was infectious.

"Mr Fletcher sir! I am glad the moment was... shared."

"Me too."
He spoke with sudden seriousness, kissed her hand once more, and leapt back up onto his hunter. "Now, back to your sister with you! And no more walking abroad at night. Who knows what unsavoury sorts you may meet! Go on."

He didn't ride off. He waited, watching until she was safely at a side door of the house, under a lamp, and she paused to look back at his silhouette. He raised a hand in farewell and she slipped into the house, feeling tired and dirty and alive and newly
clean, all at the same time.

Rebecca was waiting in her bedroom in the guest wing, as Eliza had suspected she might.

"Thank god!" she exclaimed as Eliza crept in. "I saw your boots and cloak gone, and knew you were out walking... but I had expected you back a good deal sooner than this!"

"Did you tell the Lady Jacqueline I was ill?"

"Of course.
It was like being children again, with me having to lie to the governess. But you're grown now, Eliza, and we're guests here. You can't run around in the dark! Where in heavens did you get to?"

Eliza sighed. "I'm tired." She folded her cloak and placed it on an ottoman, and shook out her skirts.

"Eliza!" Rebecca heaved herself out of the padded chair she was sitting in. "Why is there straw in your clothes and your hair?" She peered at her sister. "You look... turn around, Eliza."

With deep misgiving, Eliza turned around, and Rebecca hissed.

"Who re-tied your bodice?"

Eliza hung her head. "I cannot say."

"You do not know?"

"No, but I simply cannot say. Let me wash and go to bed, sister."

Rebecca grabbed Eliza's arm and hauled her around to face her. "Tell me what has happened! A man? Men? Forced upon you? Where? We can raise a hunt and find them – it's not too late. And hanging them, we can salvage some of your honour. If in nine months..."

"Oh don't worry about that!" Eliza had to laugh at Rebecca's horrified face. She was too tired to watch her tongue, and with a spiteful tone she said, "I'm not so innocent, you know. We took care there would be no babies."

A cacophony of emotions spiralled over Rebecca's face. Horror, disbelief, shock.

The final one was sad disappointment, and she left the room without another word, and tears sprang to Eliza's eyes. She could endure her older sister's anger.
But not her shame. Oh, her wild tongue! She walked slowly to the jug of water on the dresser and mechanically undressed to wash herself, before rolling into bed and into a deep, confused sleep.

Eliza kept to herself the following day. She was stiff and sore, and a new excitement was running in her veins. It made the day to day humdrum of her expected life even harder to bear, and she could scarcely make polite conversation with her hosts. The day flowed as slow as porridge, and as tasteless.

Rebecca sought her out as she sat in a sunroom, flicking through chapbooks.

"Eliza. We must talk." Rebecca closed the door firmly behind her and sat on a couch opposite where Eliza was lounging. "We won't be disturbed. Tell me about last night. And why so sad today?"

Eliza gripped the chapbook in her hands and fixed her eyes on her whitening knuckles. "I tasted freedom last night," she said in a small voice.
"A wild ride, and a tavern, and a man. And today – I am different, but everything else is the same. And I face tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow, each the same."

"No, not the same!
One day you'll be married!"

Eliza flung back her head and spat, "You say that as if it were a good thing!"

Rebecca compressed her lips into a tight line and faced down Eliza's stare for a long minute. Eventually Eliza looked away, and Rebecca huffed in triumph. "Now listen to me, miss. I am married. Am I unhappy?"

"No, but you're a different kind of person to me."

"How so?"

There was a dangerous edge to her sister's voice, and Eliza answered with care for once. "You are made happy by homes and comfortable things. You like organising a household and the idea of children. But I want to see places and meet people and have fun!"

"That's what you get wrong. See places and have fun... I, too, have fun. You just don't recognise it. Fun isn't just dances and alcohol. To be with a man who becomes your soul mate, as my husband has become, that's a new kind of fun. We have worked hard at being the best wife and husband to each other. Our private faces are
very
different to our social, public ones."

Eliza thought back to the moments she'd shared with Kit. They had been private moments. Not to be shared. She tried to imagine her sister and the Baron in a similar situation, and balked.

But she looked up at Rebecca, and saw her face was shining with love and genuine desire even as she spoke about her husband. "Rebecca, I am sorry. I think now I do understand perhaps a little more..."

"I hope so. One day you'll have that with your husband. But you'll miss out if you ruin yourself... promise me you'll stay a maid."

It was out before Eliza could stop herself. "That is too late."

Rebecca drew a deep and ragged breath in. "Listen to me.
You are a maid.
Whatever happened last night... it didn't happen. Forget it. On your wedding night, you are a maid. Behave as one to your husband. One thing you
will
learn as a wife – and that's how to deceive."

Eliza's eyebrows shot up. Rebecca rose to her feet and gathered her rose-pink skirts around her. "Now I am going to talk with the Lady Jacqueline about things that would no doubt bore you. I suggest you take to your bed and return to polite company tomorrow, when you can present a more acceptable face and civil tongue to your hosts."

Stiff-backed, Rebecca left the room, and Eliza couldn't resist poking her tongue out at her retreating figure. She felt closer to Rebecca now. And she had to acknowledge she spoke with sense. She took her advice, and retired to her room, closing the curtains and laying back on the bed to daydream and perhaps sleep.

Confused dreams and half-imagined figures chased through her slumber. Half asleep, half awake, she rode horses and leapt through clouds; there were shadowy men and legs and arms and eyes in the darkness, and panting breath and warmth and her thighs being parted.

Eliza struggled out of a not-quite-dream to find she was sprawled over her bed with her hand resting between her legs. She had stripped down to her shift, that long undergarment that covered her from neck to ankles in soft creamy linen, but it had ridden up around her waist and her fingers were nestled into her secret place.

Her
pussy
, she reminded herself with a thrill.

Her wet pussy.

Idly, she began to stroke and explore her folds, remembering how Kit had touched a strange sweet spot that had made her ache and crave more. She stroked up and down the long folds of flesh either side of her pussy hole, and began to dip her slender fingers inside herself.

This is wrong,
she thought, and then,
how can it be? For what is more my own, than my own body? Who else has more right than me to do this?

Bolder, she parted her thighs and probed deeper into her pussy then swept out again to rub that sensitive nub.

Her free hand crept to her breasts and she cupped her flesh, pressing down and pulling her nipple as Kit had done.

That strange snake uncoiled once more in her belly and she felt her pulse quicken. She wondered if she were able to make that climax crash over her, as Kit had done, or did it take the touch of a man – and his cock – to cause the reaction?

The memories of Kit aroused her even more as she imagined his body above hers, his weight pressing down, the touch of his lips. She twisted her nipple harder and pushed three fingers hard into her pussy, but she couldn't bend her wrist enough. She wanted filling. In frustration, she withdrew her hand and raised herself onto one elbow to look about the room.