WidowsWickedWish (20 page)

“Sarah, be a dear and fetch us a bottle of champagne and a
plate of those little French things, the ones filled with strawberries and
cream,” Alice told the girl who only stared back at her in confusion.

“Crepes,” Olivia supplied helpfully.

“Oh, yes, mum, that is my lady,” the girl answered with a
grin.

“Off with you now,” Alice said with a wave of one hand
before tugging Olivia none to gently into her girlhood bedchamber.

“Thank you!” Olivia called over her shoulder.

“Good God,” Alice said as she pushed the door closed. “Did
no one ever tell you that you cannot leave off your drawers and allow a man to
spill inside you?”

“What?” Olivia asked in confusion from the center of the
pink and white room where she’d spent a large part of her childhood, pestering
her mother until she relented and allowed her daughter to flee to her uncle’s
house and the pleasure of her cousin’s company.

“One or the other, Olivia. You simply cannot do both.”

Heat washed over Olivia as she realized what her cousin
meant. “Oh.”

“Oh indeed,” Alice replied with a laugh. “Thank goodness I
decided to wait for you in the hall. Else you’d have gone tripping back into
the ballroom with a giant wet spot on the back of your gown.”

“Wet spot,” Olivia repeated around a giggle.

“Dastardly nuisance, wet spots. Next time take him into your
mouth after you’ve reached your crisis. Much less messy.”

“Into my mouth?”

“Darling girl, have you not had that pleasure?”

Olivia shook her head.

“Turn around.”

Olivia turned around.

Alice attacked the long line of buttons down the back of her
cousin’s gown. “I myself like to bring a man nearly to the point before taking
him into my mouth. There is nothing worse than working over a man until your
jaw aches, especially a well-endowed man. Is Mr. Bentley a well-endowed man?”

Olivia nodded.

“What? Only one petticoat? Honestly, Olivia, what did you
think would happen to his jism? Did you think it would magically disappear?
What goes in must come out. It’s simple science.”

“Jism,” Olivia repeated, rolling the word around on her
tongue.

“His seed, his spunk, his cum, for goodness sake.”

Once divested of all but her stockings and shoes, Olivia
turned around.

“Where?” Alice asked, her gray eyes coasting over Olivia’s
bare breasts and trim waist.

“Where what?”

“Where in this great mausoleum did you go to earn your badge
of dishonor?”

“The tower.”

Alice arched a brow. “Divinely inspired. How is it I’ve
never thought to…never mind, now that you’ve opened my eyes to the possibility,
we’ll have to come up with some sort of warning system. Drape a pair of drawers
over the door handle, perhaps?”

“Oh, Alice, I doubt very much Jack and I will make use of
the tower again,” Olivia protested as her cousin disappeared into her dressing
room.

“There’s always next year!” Alice called out.

“It is unlikely we will still be…” Olivia allowed her words
to drift away, unsure how to complete the thought.

“Lovers?” Alice asked, alighting from the small, cramped
space with an armful of silk, velvet and lace. “You’ll be more than that if you
continue to allow him to spend inside you. Will he marry you if he gets you
with child?”

“Yes.”

“Even so, I know you have no desire to marry again. You
might consider being a little bit creative, so as not to be forced to marry Mr.
Bentley. Demand that he pull out. He can easily spend himself on your belly.”

An image of Jack kneeling between her thighs, his hand
pumping over his rigid shaft, flashed in her mind. Had he thought to spill his
jism on her belly before pushing her legs back to thrust the head of his cock
in her cunny?

“Or on your bottom,” Alice continued as she laid six dresses
across her bed. “Tell me Jack Bentley has introduced you to the pleasures to be
found on your hands and knees.”

“He has,” Olivia admitted as she trailed her fingers over a
lovely cream satin gown overlaid with delicate lace of the same soft hue.

“That one won’t match your silver slippers,” Alice pointed
out before turning to give her cousin her back. “Undo me, dearest.”

Olivia had just finished tugging free the crisscrossed
ribbons that held Alice’s gown together when there came a soft scratching at
the door.

“Oh, I’m not dressed!” Olivia exclaimed as the door opened.

“It’s only my Molly,” Alice replied, shrugging out of her
dress, leaving her in drawers, stockings and slippers. “No one else would dare
to enter these hallowed walls.”

Sure enough, Alice’s maid, Molly, drifted through the door
with a silver tray in her hands, gently kicking it closed behind her.

“Little French things and champagne as ordered,” Molly sang
out before she spotted Olivia and Alice standing mostly naked beside the bed.
“Oh, hullo, Lady Palmerton. Playing dress-up, are we?”

“Good evening Molly, how are you?” Olivia asked the woman
who had been her cousin’s lady maid since she’d escaped the schoolroom.

“I’ve no complaints,” the maid answered with a grin as she
placed the tray on a table between two tall windows and poured champagne into
fluted glasses. “Leastwise none her ladyship cares to hear.”

“Hush, you tart,” Alice replied with a regal lift of her
chin.

“You’ve taken that gown off?” Molly asked, her hands on her
hips. “After all the fuss you made about me lacing you up tighter than a drum?”

“We had an accident with a glass of wine,” Olivia explained
with a nod toward her ruined gown that lay in a pile on the floor.

Molly scooped up the gown. “That’ll never come out, my lady,
and such a pretty gown, too.”

“Take it,” Alice replied before clinking her glass to
Olivia’s. “You can dye the silk to match the stain and wear it on your
half-day.”

“Oh, and won’t I be the fancy lady visiting me mum in
Cheapside in a gown such as this. Why that handsome butcher’ll snatch me up to
Gretna Green and you’ll be left to fend for yourself.”

“Ladies’ maids are everywhere,” Alice told her before biting
into a crepe, cream dribbling over her chin to splat upon the slope of her
breast. “Off with you, Molly, my darling. Go back to flirting with that
handsome footman while London’s latest and greatest hussy and I finish playing
dress-up.”

Molly’s grin took in both ladies as she bobbed a
surprisingly graceful curtsy. “It’s just like old time seeing the two of you in
this room again.”

“You’ve tupped back a pint or two, haven’t you?” Alice
accused. “You always turn into a sentimental fool when in your cups.”

“Leastwise, I don’t turn into a clumsy fool, pouring wine
down my cousin’s back,” Molly shot back.

Olivia laughed at their tart exchange. Some things never
changed.

“Shoo, you cheeky creature.”

A bottle of champagne, a plate of crepes, and an hour later,
Alice said, “This one, I think.”.

“That bodice will never contain my breasts,” Olivia
protested with a giggle.

“It will if you don’t lean over,” Alice responded. “How
about this one? This emerald green will look lovely on you.”

“Again, I just don’t think…”

“The bodice is ruched,” Alice argued. “It’ll stretch to
cover all the essential parts. Here, lift up your arms.”

Olivia complied, swaying slightly as the cool silk whispered
over her skin.

“Are you tipsy?” Alice asked, tugging the dress down over
her cousin’s hips.

“I might be,” Olivia admitted with a wobbly laugh.

“The nice thing about this gown is that there are only three
buttons holding it together at the back.” Alice turned her gently and fastened
said buttons low on her back.

“How does one go about taking a man’s cock into her mouth?”

“Mercy me, Olivia, listen to you!”

“What?”

“Does Mr. Bentley know you’ve such a naughty vocabulary?”

“He taught me the words.”

“Did he now? Well, well, well. There are hidden depths to
the man,” Alice purred as she circled around her cousin to study her handiwork.
Her cool fingers tugged the bodice of the shimmering green silk up just enough to
cover Olivia’s areolas, leaving a shocking amount of pale skin visible above.
“Take a deep breath.”

Olivia drew air into her lungs, expanding her chest, and
held it.

“Perfect,” Alice pronounced. “I’ve a mind to teach you a
trick that every sophisticated lady ought to know.”

“How to keep my luscious breasts hidden beneath this
bodice?” Olivia asked hopefully.

“Slow, shallow breaths and no quadrilles,” Alice answered
promptly. “You do have lovely breasts. I’m quite envious.”

“Yours are pretty,” Olivia hurried to assure her, her gaze
dropping to study them. “Quite pert, they are.”

“I’ve never had any complaints,” Alice agreed with a grin.
“Help me into the cream lace, will you?”

Once both ladies were dressed, every last sapphire hairpin
pulled from Olivia’s hair and a wide emerald ribbon wound around her neck to
hide a patch of whisker burn, Alice sat her cousin down on the edge of her bed.

“Now, about that trick.”

“Which trick?”

“You’ve the attention span of a gnat when tipsy,” Alice
replied as she looked about the room. “Now what shall we use. Oh, perfect.”

She strode across the room and grabbed up a long,
cylindrical crystal vase holding a small bouquet of pink roses. Whisking the
flowers out, she poured the water into an empty champagne glass before turning
to face Olivia.

“Most men prefer a woman on her knees, makes them feel she
is properly subjugated to their dominance,” Alice proclaimed. “Oh and they love
to see you swallow their load.”

“Alice what on earth are you talking about?” Olivia asked in
confusion.

“Taking a man in your mouth,” Alice replied, gliding across
the room to stand before her cousin. She held out her hands, palms up. On one
she balanced the vase. Two blooming pink roses rested on the other. “Now this
is a man’s member, or as you prefer his cock, and these are his ballocks.”

The Countess of Palmerton fell back on the bed with a roar
of laughter and was soon joined by the Countess of Piedmont who jumped onto the
bed beside her and proceeded to teach her all that a proper lady must know
about taking a man in her mouth.

Jack was beginning to think the Earl of Somerton had
spirited his niece into the night as the evening wore on and she did not return
to the ballroom. He danced a set with Beatrice, another with Madeline Dumfries
and finally with Lucille.

As he was leading his stepmother from the dance floor, he
spied Lady Hastings speaking heatedly with a dark-haired woman in a flowing
emerald-green gown cut low enough to bare the long line of her spine halfway
down her back. She tilted her head above a wide green ribbon wound around her
neck, and if it hadn’t been for the color of her gown, Jack might have sworn
the woman was his future bride.

“Would you like a glass of punch?” he asked Lucille as they
passed beside Lady Hastings and her companion.

“Thank you, Jack,” she answered distractedly. “I say, isn’t
that Lady Palmerton? Are ladies changing gowns midway through balls now?
Goodness, I had no idea.”

Jack turned and caught Olivia in profile, her eyes fastened
on her mother’s face as that lady whispered words too low for him to hear. She
was clearly agitated, her hands clenched at her sides as she aimed her venom at
her daughter.

“I refuse,” Olivia suddenly interrupted, one hand slashing
at the air.

“Lower your voice,” Lady Hastings hissed.

“What are you thinking?” Olivia asked, ignoring her mother’s
admonition. “He’s little more than a boy.”

“I know what’s best.”

“You haven’t any idea what’s best for me.”

Whatever reply Lady Hastings made was lost as he guided
Lucille around a group of loitering gentlemen. With one final look over his
shoulder he steered her to the refreshment tables set up along one wall of the
room.

“And look,” Lucille murmured as he handed her a glass of
punch. “Lady Piedmont has also changed into a new gown.”

Lady Piedmont glided across the room in a cream silk and
lace gown, one hand wrapped around Hastings’ arm.

“She was wearing a lovely blue gown earlier,” Lucille
continued.

Just then Olivia sailed up to him, a wide smile on her lips
and two twin spots of color on her cheeks.

“Mr. Bentley,” she greeted, her gaze shifting between Jack
and Lucille.

“Lady Palmerton, may I introduce my father’s wife, Mrs.
Lucille Bentley.”

“Oh, Mrs. Bentley, how lovely to meet you,” Olivia replied
graciously.

Lucille pressed her glass into Jack’s hand and dropped into
an elegant curtsy, her eyes fastened upon the lady in the bold emerald gown. “A
pleasure to make your acquaintance, Lady Palmerton.”

“Punch?” Jack asked.

“Punch who?” Olivia replied with a grin.

Jack blinked in surprise.

“I believe my stepson was enquiring whether you’d like a
glass of punch?” Lucille explained.

“Oh, well in that case, no thank you,” she answered with a
giggle. “But if you’ve a wet mitten somewhere about your person you’d care to
lend me?”

“I’m afraid not,” Jack replied around a huff of laughter.

“A wet mitten?” Lucille repeated, her gaze darting between
them.

“Wonderfully effective, wet mittens,” Olivia told her.

“I can attest to that,” Jack responded.

“I think I will join Mr. Bentley,” Lucille said with a nod
across the room to where Jack’s father stood among a group of gentlemen. “It
was nice to meet you, Lady Palmerton. Jack.”

With a quick curtsy she was off and Olivia laughed softly
before asking, “Was it something I said?”

“I think you frightened her with your talk of punch and wet
mittens,” Jack replied, watching the candlelight flicker over her upturned
face. “Is your mother giving you grief again?”

Olivia waved her hand in the air as if to brush off his
inquiry. “I am off to another ball, if you’d care to join me?”

“That must explain the change of gown.” Jack was only mildly
surprised she would abandon her cousin’s annual ball. There were nights when
the lady attended three or four entertainments. London’s Darling was much in
demand.

Whatever reply she might have made was lost as she turned
toward the door.

Jack followed her from the crowded ballroom and out the
front steps to find her carriage at the curb. He waited while a footman handed
her up before crawling in after her.

“I’m not really going to another ball,” she said as he sat
across from her.

“So what accounts for the change in gown?”

“You would account for the change in gown. Thank goodness
Alice was there to save me.”

Jack only looked back at her, unsure as to what she
referred.

“You never told me what goes in must come out,” she said,
waving one finger in the air in admonishment. “I nearly returned to the
ballroom with a giant wet spot on the back of my gown.”

Comprehension dawned and Jack barked out a laugh.

“Funny, is it?” she drawled.

“I’m sorry,” he replied around his mirth. “It never occurred
to me to suggest that you might want to clean up a bit afterward.”

“Why is it no one tells a lady these things?”

“These things?”

“Wear drawers if you intend to pull a man into dark
alcoves,” she explained. “These are the sorts of things mothers should tell
their daughters. Not ‘he’ll likely touch your bosom before he rolls on top of
you’.”

“Is that what your mother told you?”

“And ‘be sure to scream a bit lest he think you aren’t a
virgin’.”

It occurred to Jack that Olivia might have had a bit too
much to drink. Her eyes sparkled in the shadowy carriage, her teeth flashing as
she smiled at him, her hands tugging at the bodice of her gown.

“I told Alice my breasts were unlikely to stay safely
confined beneath this bodice,” she muttered. “Oh, and ‘he’ll come to you in his
night clothes’. Mother got that part wrong. Liked to strut about in the
altogether, he did. He must not have realized his cock was so small. Do men see
one another’s cocks?”

Jack choked back another chuckle. “When precisely would we
see one another’s cocks?”

Again she waved her hand in the space between them, nearly
losing her balance before righting herself. “When you are having pissing
contests? When you are changing your garments at Gentleman Jackson’s? When you
are sharing whores? Isn’t that what men do?”

“I can’t speak for all men, but I haven’t entered a pissing
contest since Eton,” Jack replied. “And I’ve never shared a woman with any
man.”

“Never?”

“Never.”

“And when you are changing after a sparring match?”

“A gentleman does not look at another man’s apparatus,” Jack
replied with a shake of his head.

“Apparatus?” she repeated with a giggle. “Oh, Jack, let me
take your apparatus into my mouth.”

Jack sucked in a shocked breath, her words whispering over
him in the close confines of the carriage, his gaze pinned to her smiling
mouth.

“Would you like me to?” she asked, her voice little more
than a whisper.

“Jesus, Livy,” he answered on a stuttering exhalation.

Without a word she fell to her knees before him, her hands
landing on his thighs. She eased them open and crawled into the space between
his legs.

“You don’t have to,” he began, all the blood rushing from
his head to settle in his loins.

“I want to.” Olivia peered at him through her lashes as she
tugged at the fingers of one glove.

Jack took hold of her chin, tilted her face to meet his and
kissed her. He coasted his lips over hers, slowly, willing himself calm in the
face of her generous offer, his cock already throbbing to be inside her warm
mouth.

Olivia returned his kiss, her lips opening in invitation,
her tongue coming out to trail over his lower lip before diving into his mouth.
She circled her tongue around his before pulling it between her lips, sucking
him deep into her mouth. She set up a suckling tempo that had him squirming in
anticipation, had his hands clasping her cheeks, tilting her head back to
thrust into her ravenous mouth, again and again.

Her fingers tugged the buttons of his trousers free and dove
down to grip his shaft in one bare hand. She stroked his length from tip to
base, tightened her hand and squeezed. And all the while she kissed him,
alternately spearing her tongue into his mouth to drag it over his teeth, his
lower lip, the inner lining of his cheeks, before pulling his into her mouth
once more.

“Ah, Livy,” he growled into her mouth, nearly undone by the
feel of her hand clenching around his cock.

“You’re so hard,” she whispered. “I want to see your cock.”

She leaned back and dropped her gaze, releasing him to tug
his trousers down just enough so that his cock sprang free. She pushed his legs
farther apart and dipped her head. Her tongue came out to swirl around the
throbbing head as she peeked up at him.

Jack leaned back against the cushions of the carriage seat,
his hands coming to rest on the worn velvet, clenching as she took him into her
mouth, her tongue flicking delicately at the sensitive skin just below the
head, her lips closing around his shaft.

He hummed in pleasure, resisted the urge to clasp her head
and thrust into her wet heat. As if she knew what he needed, she opened her jaw
wide and took him deeper into her mouth, her lips sliding over his straining
flesh, her tongue dragging down the root, until the tip bounced against the
back of her throat.

“Easy, love,” he murmured, one hand coming to rest along her
jaw.

Her lids fluttered closed and she glided her mouth up his
shaft, stopping only long enough to circle the engorged head again, before
sliding back down his length, taking as much of his cock into her mouth as she
could. Again and again she bobbed her head over his lap, her mouth hotter,
wetter with each pass.

Jack watched her ministrations through slitted eyes, his
breath sawing through his open mouth, as lust coalesced in his gut, in his
balls, along his throbbing shaft. Unable to remain still, he took up the rhythm
of her mouth, gently thrusting with each downward lunge until he thought he
might go mad with pleasure.

Olivia wrapped her hand around the base of his shaft,
followed her ascending mouth with it, lapped at the tip once more, before
sliding both hand and mouth down again. Her fingers were firm, wet, creating a
wondrous extension of her mouth. He could almost imagine she’d taken the entire
length of his cock between her lips. She worked over him, humming softly with
each lunge deep into her mouth.

Jack gripped her head, wild to hold her steady and drive
into her heat. Instead he sifted his fingers through her curls.

“Livy,” he panted as his balls tightened, “I’m going to
come.”

Expecting her to release his pulsing cock, he was surprised
when she clamped her lips tighter still around him, increased the suction of
her mouth, and sped up the stroking of her hand.

Jack meant to pull from her mouth, vaguely thought to push
her to the opposite seat and hike up her skirts. Before he could make good on
the thought, her other hand reached beneath his throbbing shaft and cupped his
balls. Her fingers were cool, blessedly, wondrously cool on his ballocks. Dimly
he realized that she still wore a thin silk glove on the hand that fondled him,
that grasped his balls and gently squeezed.

Jack attempted to pull from the hot suction of her mouth,
from the cool clasp of her fingers. He shifted back on the seat, grasped her
head and tried to raise it from his lap.

“Olivia, stop,” he grated out between clenched teeth, the
need to spend pummeling him.

Olivia ignored his command, following his movements, her
mouth never leaving his cock, her questing fingers shooting down beneath his
balls to press the sensitive flesh there. She pulled him deep into her mouth,
her palm cradling his balls and one silk covered finger caressing him.

With a roar that ricocheted around the shadowy carriage,
Jack came hard, his hands fisting in her hair, his hips thrusting wildly,
driving his cock deep as he spent in her mouth. Olivia continued her
attentions, her head bobbing over him, her lips and tongue and hand working
over his pulsating cock, her fingers gently massaging his balls and perineum.

He fell back against the carriage seat with a grunt, forced
his fingers in her hair to relax and valiantly attempted to pull air into his
starving lungs.

With one final pull of her mouth and one final swipe of her
tongue around the crest, Olivia relinquished his cock. She looked up at him, a
purely satisfied smile flashing in the dark. Slowly she ran her tongue around
her lips.

“Livy…why…I didn’t want to spend in your mouth…” he gasped
above her.

“Don’t be silly,” she whispered with a laugh. “I have it on
the highest authority that men like to see a lady swallow their load.”

“Ah, Livy, the things you say.”

“Don’t open the door just yet, Mr. Johnston.” A rumbling
masculine voice called from beyond the carriage.

The words had barely penetrated Jack’s brain before the door
was pulled open. Light from a lantern held high in the open space penetrated
the shadowy confines of the interior, spilling around Olivia where she knelt
between his legs, one hand still wrapped around his cock, the other resting on
his thigh.

“Holy mother of God,” Johnston whispered in obvious horror.

“Shut the bloody door,” Jack growled as he leaned forward in
an attempt to shield Olivia from the butler’s gaze, and that of the footman
behind him.

“Oh no,” she whispered as the door slammed closed. “I’ve
skipped over daring and gone straight to debauched.”