LadyTrayhurnsTransgression

Lady Trayhurn’s Transgression

by

Mary Alice
Williamson

****

This is a work of fiction. Names,
characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s
imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons
living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely
coincidental
.

LADY TRAYHURN’S TRANSGRESSION

COPYRIGHT 2012 by Mary Alice Williamson

Published by Sybarite Seductions, an
imprint of
Twenty
or Less Press. All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without
written permission of the author or Sybarite Seductions.

Contact Information:

[email protected]

Visit us at sybariteseductions.com

Book Cover Design by ZenD

Sensual
young blonde adult Caucasian woman, wrapped in a satin, silk sheet COPYRIGHT
Sean
Nel
/ 123rf.com

****

Dedication

To my girl, Shellee
Smythe, for going along with me on this crazy, mixed-up plan.

****

Lady Trayhurn’s
Transgression

May 1818, a townhouse in Grosvenor
Square

Lady Lydia
Trayhurn, wife to the Earl of Coventry, smiled as she read her brother’s
letter. Written in his bold, meticulous script, she had no trouble picturing
the scene he’d described. “What a scandal, Phyllis,” she said to her
middle-aged lady’s maid. “It seems Lord Danver has been something of a naughty
boy lately.”

“He’s coming out of
mourning. Perhaps it couldn’t be helped.” Phyllis moved a small, marble-topped
table to sit beside the copper bathtub. The table’s gilded legs winked in the
lamplight. “A man such as Lord Danver has needs, I’m sure.”

“Of course men have
needs, you silly goose.” Her brother—her younger brother by a year—had barely
turned thirty. With his wife dead for over a year and sick for a long time
before that, he probably had more frustrated oats to sow than wild ones. Lydia
shook the letter. He’d always attempted to shock her with the scrapes in his
life. “He admits to rutting with a parlor maid a few weeks ago. A servant! Just
imagine the gossip if it’s found out.” She trusted Phyllis implicitly and
didn’t think twice about tearing her brother’s reputation to ribbons in the
maid’s company.

“The Viscount most
likely brokered a deal or made lofty promises. The girl won’t talk.” Phyllis
padded around the room plumping bed pillows, closing window drapes, and finally
stoking the fire that would ward off the spring cold as well as keep Lydia’s
bath pleasantly warm. By the time the woman placed the gilded screen in front
of the hearth Lydia had folded the letter and tucked it into a book on the
bedside table.

Lydia rolled her
eyes.
“But relations with a maid?
I cannot believe he
would do such a thing.” She crossed her arms over her chest. Her thin cotton
wrap wasn’t enough to keep the chill away.

“Need and urges
aren’t divided by class.” Phyllis placed a round of soap on the marble-topped
table along with a book of poetry and a bathing sponge. “These things happen
all the time.”

“You might be
correct.”

Phyllis nodded. “It’s
quite common for the titled to indulge in indiscretions with their staff.” The
maid shrugged. “Those in domestic employ have little choice. Ask your husband
if you don’t believe me.”

Lydia pursed her
lips. No matter that Phyllis had been with her since she’d wed, hinting at the
Earl’s less than austere behavior was beyond the pale. “You overstep, Phyllis.”

“I apologize.” The
maid crossed to an armoire. “I’ll set out your Oriental silk dressing gown for
you.”

“Thank you.” She
perched on the edge of the bathtub and stuck a hand into the water. Her
marriage to Lord Trayhurn had been essentially in name only. He’d never shown
more than a passing interest in her as a woman or a bed partner, especially
since she’d been unable to carry a child to term. Had he begat by-blows with
any of his various mistresses or while carousing with the help? She wouldn’t
doubt it, nor did she want to know. It had been years since he’d warmed her
bed, and she was quite content with that. Lydia shook her head in the hope of
clearing her thoughts. “A bit more hot water will do the trick I think.”

More than the
domestic staff had little choice. At least if the staff wished to carouse with
each other, they did with no care to their public image or reputation. The
aristocracy had to be content with cold bedrooms and colder futures unless they
wanted a fall from grace. She’d made the best of her life and sought happiness
doing good works, though the physical ache for a man’s attention never went
away.

“Very
good.”
Phyllis left the room only to return a few minutes later with the footman who’d
brought up the tub. Now he carried a black, metal bucket of steaming water.

Lydia let her gaze
travel over the footman. He bent over slightly to add the water to the bath and
her breath caught. His arse was so tight and firm she wanted to grasp it and
squeeze for the mere joy of feeling young, male flesh. Though he was probably
ten years her junior, she couldn’t help her admiration. “Thank you, Paul.”

His broad shoulders
and muscled chest filled out his blue-and-white livery to perfection. What
would those strong arms feel like holding her close or pinning her wrists above
her head while he plundered her breasts with his mouth? Excitement shot down
her spine.
I might be trapped in a
loveless marriage, but I’m certainly not dead.
In that one second she
understood why her brother had done what he had. Lust circled around her like a
voracious beast.

“Do you require
more water?” The groom straightened with slow movements as if he knew of her
regard. He faced her, the empty bucket resting on one solid thigh.

“No.” Despite her
inappropriate thoughts, she couldn’t help glancing at the front of his
breeches. A faint bulge pressed against the garment. Was that his resting
member, or did he desire her? Tingles danced through her core. What did he look
like fully engorged? Would he be thick in girth or long in length? Her
heartbeat tripped into a fast rhythm. Should she risk all to find out?

She caught a wicked
gleam in his eyes as he noticed her interest. “Enjoy your bath, Lady Trayhurn.”
He flicked his gaze down her body, lingering briefly at her thighs and sliding
over her breasts before returning to her face. His lips curved in a cheeky
grin, but he turned and strode from the room before she could think of anything
to say.

Heat rushed over
her skin at his lazy insolence, yet she couldn’t deny the exchange had been
blatantly suggestive. Had he guessed her thoughts? She squeezed her thighs
together to stem the throb in her pussy. Oh to experience his youthful
exuberance while he thrust into her or used her body as his play thing. She’d
wager he’d be an attentive and demanding lover.

Phyllis softly
cleared her throat. “Will there be anything else, Lady Trayhurn?”

Nothing that you can provide.
Aloud, she said, “Not
that I can think of.” She moistened her lips. “I plan to retire directly after
my bath.”

“Very
well.
I’ve left your wrapper and a clean shift on the bed. There’s a towel on the
floor near the tub. If you require my assistance later, please ring the bell.”
The maid glided to the door on silent feet. “Have a restful sleep.”

“Thank you.” Lydia
sighed with relief when Phyllis exited and closed the door. She untied the sash
and let the robe drop from her shoulders. As she climbed into the rose-scented
water, another sigh escaped. Warmth closed over her body and eased the aches
from her muscles. Sinking in to her chin with her knees bent and out of the
water, she leaned back, closed her eyes and fixed an image of the groom in her
mind.

She opened her
thighs as her fantasy of him naked and masterful developed. Water lapped over
her sensitive folds, warm and soothing. While she imagined Paul’s fingers on
her flesh, she slipped a hand over her stomach and then lower through her curls
until she found the button that would send her flying with a little bit of
work. Blissful tension rose in her body the faster she rubbed her finger
against the nub. She pretended it was Paul’s fingers caressing her cunt.
Pressure built and coiled, ready to break.

“If you require
help with that task, Lady Trayhurn, I am available.”

Lydia’s eyes flew
open at the baritone voice. She yanked her hand away and snapped her thighs
together even as tremors of heightened anticipation raced through her lower
belly. “Paul? What are you doing in my private rooms?” It was a stupid
question. There was only one reason for his presence, and they both knew it. She
covered her bare breasts with crossed arms, hiding her erect nipples. “This is
most improper.” It was a statement instead of the chastisement she’d intended,
but as the words left her mouth, she acknowledged to herself she did indeed
want his hands on her.

A grin wreathed his
smooth, youthful face. “It is, but when has anything proper been pleasurable?”
He’d shed his livery and now wore a loose-fitting linen shirt and brown wool
trousers, which hugged his lean legs, further igniting her desire. “You have a
look of a woman who requires much pleasuring.”

Flutters chased
through Lydia’s core. “Does anyone know you’re here?”

“No. I’m very
discreet, my lady.” He unlaced the ties holding the top of his shirt closed. It
sagged open to reveal tanned skin sprinkled with coarse, black hair. “Was I
wrong in thinking you might have additional need of me this night?”

Dear God, how she
was tempted. Goose flesh prickled her skin. Her nipples tightened. When she
moistened her bottom lip, Paul’s hazel eyes darkened. “Perhaps I do.” Her suite
of rooms was far removed from any of the servants’ chambers and her husband was
not in residence. What could it hurt? One tiny transgression wouldn’t harm her
if he was discreet.

“I won’t keep you
waiting.” He toed off his scuffed, worn boots. Once he’d removed the shirt and
tossed it away, he held her gaze while he shoved out of his trousers.

“How much do you
want this, Lady Trayhurn?” He pumped a hand along his cock. Thick and of a good
length, his member grew from his ministrations. “Have you dreamed of having my
prick in your cunt, in your mouth, between your tits?”

“Oh
my.”
Saliva filled her mouth. What would he feel like sliding down her throat? If
she sucked him off, would it drive him wild?

Desire glittered in
his eyes. “I’ve seen you watching me while I work.” He fondled his length again
before rubbing a thumb over its tip. “Does your husband make your juices flow
as much as thoughts of me do?” He straddled the narrow sides of the bathtub,
and his engorged cock bobbed in front of her face. “Do you have him in mind
when you pleasure yourself?”

She couldn’t
breathe much less think with him so close. The contoured planes of his chest
were better than she’d imagined. As she trailed her gaze over his defined
abdomen, sharp need rocked her pussy. “I haven’t used his image for my own
purposes for a very long time.”

Unable to help
herself, she cupped his hairy balls. When he stifled a groan, she smiled and
caressed his sac then slid a finger behind them to massage the spot she hoped
would set fire to his loins.

This time, his moan
echoed in the air and he rocked forward. His cock head tapped her lips. “Open
for me, my lady. Let me fulfill your darkest desires and give you what your
husband does not.”

“Gladly.”
No matter that
everything about this night was
improper,
it had been
ages since she’d felt needed as a woman. Who was she to argue if a virile man
desired her? Lydia slid a palm along one of his powerful thighs, edged closer
to him then took him into her mouth.

She swirled her
tongue around his cock. The slight salty taste sent pulses of desire through
her body. Her breasts ached, and she pinched a nipple in an effort to alleviate
the need. Sensation tingled through both breasts and lanced her pussy. Lydia
sighed
her bliss around his cock. His thick girth teased her
mouth and tantalized her tongue as he pushed deeper.

She marveled over
the difference in the groom’s prick and her husband’s. Youth kept Paul rigid
and supple. He’d last a while. Again, the image of him pounding into her cunt
dropped into her mind’s eye as he thrust into her mouth.