And how long before Clarissa started frowning at him? He had a year’s worth of catching up to do.
She’d turned all shy on him again. What an enigma. All wifely propriety one moment and a naughty vixen willing to take him on a long ride to depravity the next.
“I’d love to, but wouldn’t you rather ride?”
“No, I’m a bit too stiff to ride and I think a long stroll will do me good. It’ll help work out some of the kinks.”
She blushed prettily. He still marveled his wife was the one willingly taking the length of his cock up her ass. Maybe it wasn’t such a marvel. She was the same woman who’d had him tied to the bed overnight and was prepared to inflict unforgiveable acts upon his person.
Was he the luckiest man alive?
Clarissa sidled next to the tub and placed her hand on his shoulder. “Our luncheon will be up soon. Perhaps you ought to be out of the bath and dressed when the footman arrives?”
“Madam, while you prance around in your linens? I shall remain naked on the off chance you wish to offer yourself to me again.”
She giggled.
“Now, woman, wash my back before I turn into a prune.”
After a satisfying lunch with good food and a happy wife, he steered her out of the house without too much difficulty. The boys seemed to have some secret plans down at the far side of the lake, which suited him fine. They wouldn’t be in the way.
He patted his waistcoat before they left, assuring himself that he had her ring in his possession.
* * * * *
While they’d walked, he held her hand. At the folly, Michael pulled Clarissa into his arms. She thought her life had almost returned to normal. Michael was no longer the distant and irritable man he’d been over the last year. The life and sparkle that had always danced in his eyes was back. He nearly vibrated with excitement.
“You’re not upset with me?” she asked. She stroked one hand along his chest while she wrapped her other arm around his neck and slipped her fingers through his hair.
He laughed. “How could a man, immersed in one of his great sexual fantasies, be unhappy?”
“You liked it? All of it?”
“At the time, no, but I think that’s what makes it so heady. At little danger, mixed with some anger and anxiety,” he said, then kissed her. “All delivered by a bewitching woman with bare breasts and the loveliest ass. And her own portable penis.” He squeezed her bottom affectionately.
She bit at her lip, unable to hide the last worry. How could she be sure? What if he went back to Madame DuPuis’? What if he grew tired of her again? She glanced away, unable to bear the intensity of his gaze.
His hand cupped her face. “Clarissa? What is it?”
“I thought we were content before. Why didn’t you tell me what I’d done to make you unhappy? If I would have known what you wanted,
needed
—you only had to ask and I would have done my best.”
“I didn’t know what I needed.”
“I don’t understand.”
He sat on the bench and tugged her down beside him. “Clarissa, do you see the way men look at you?”
She huffed. “Who cares? They’re a bunch of old toads.”
“They are not. I’ve seen young boys fresh from Oxford stare after you like you’re Christmas pudding. Old toads like Ederline drool for wanting you.”
“You are all I want.”
“Do you remember that night Martin DeLacy kissed you?”
That hurt. She’d explained herself already. “It was nothing. A drunk fool who thought he could paw me when you weren’t looking.”
“Do you remember when we got home that night?”
She’d been too angry to remember anything except the sting in her palm that lasted until the next morning, and the humiliation of being accosted. “No, I’m sorry.”
“I came to you. Angry. Foolish. Insane with jealousy. I was going to show you what a real man was. Remind you that you had a husband who lusted after you more than any of the idiots who slavered for your attention.”
“But nothing happened that night. We came home and went to bed.”
“No, I came to you that night determined to make love to you. I had you naked, my fingers in your pussy, my mouth on your breasts. No matter what I did, I couldn’t perform. My lifeless cock wouldn’t move.”
“But that had happened a few times in our marriage, like the first time I was pregnant and you swore you’d never touch me again for fear that pregnancy would kill me.”
He laughed. “I’m such a fool, but no, it was different that time.” He sighed. “Night after night it was like that, until I got desperate.”
“Why didn’t you tell me? I’m your wife.”
“I didn’t want you to feel sorry for me. I didn’t want you to think less of me. I didn’t want you to think about taking a lover. It plagued me night and day that I would lose you because of my inability. The one thing I wanted more than life itself seemed like it was fading from my grasp.
“
You
, Clarissa. I wanted nothing but you, only the longer I couldn’t…I couldn’t sustain an erection, the more I allowed myself to search for something that equaled the satisfaction I had with you. Do you understand?”
“That’s why you went to the whorehouse?”
“Yes. I started blaming you. I listened to the whispers of what could be and slowly my resolve to be faithful eroded. I was afraid I was past my prime and that you would see that you were married to an old man. One of those old men you deride.
“Every night it was a battle. My heart said no, but my body responded to those things. It was all I could do to keep myself from taking everything that was in my grasp. Oh, Clarissa, I wish I could explain to you what it’s like for a man when he fears he’s not a man any more.”
She hung her head. “Probably something like a woman feels when she thinks she has nothing to offer the man she loves.”
He gripped her wrist and placed her hand on his erection. Her eyes widened in surprise. “This is all for you. It always has been. When I’d watch, when I’d think about mindless fucking, it was always your body I used. I’d see your innocence and purity and goodness and how I’d use your body in every imaginable way. And always, always, you’d be screaming my name, begging for everything I did to you. The climaxes were addicting.
“Just talking about this stirs me to a point of madness. Come.”
He hauled her to her feet and pulled her toward the doorway. “Brace your arms.”
She faced outward, looking toward the tall oaks and seeing the shimmer of water through the stand of stout trunks, but she gripped the doorjambs as he instructed. Her heart took to galloping. She felt the force of his need.
The sound of birds buzzed in her brain but was eclipsed by the sound of his harsh breathing behind her and the sound of him working at the fall of his trousers. His hands grabbed handfuls of her skirt and hurriedly lifted. She heard a tear and then felt her undergarments slide to her ankles.
The heat and hardness of his cock nestled between her ass cheeks before she felt the blunt tip between her legs, caressing back and forth, the moisture from her body bathing and coating his arousal.
“These damned skirts. I’d like to rip your clothes off right now.”
His hands clutched her ass, his fingers spread the plump cheeks wide. With his thumb, he touched the tight little hole and then pushed firmly inside. Her bottom clenched, milking his finger. “Do you feel that? If it’s anything like what you did to me, you’re going to be weeping in a few seconds.” He popped his thumb out. “Hold tight, darling. You are about to make me the happiest of men.”
Clarissa leaned forward, firming her grip against the wood. The tip of his cock pushed at her entrance, his leg swept against hers forcing her legs wider. One of his hands circled her waist and at the first push inward, he hauled her back against him as he slid in deep and hard and full.
She gasped and bent forward. Only her braced hands prevented her fall.
“Hold on, I’ve got more to give you. Bend forward just a little, just for me.” He surged again, pushing the rest of his lengthy manhood into her. One of his arms braced the column beside her hand. His breathing sounded harsh and wild. “You have no idea how much I wanted this with you. How much I wanted to feel every tight inch of you around my cock.” The French words tore through him again as he pulled out. And in another wetter, slicker surge, he pushed deeply into her body. Clarissa moaned as she felt every inch of pressure.
He panted while he waited. “I dreamt of doing this once a week and would have been happy doing so. Now I think you’ve given me new life. I can barely think without imaging the next time I’ll be inside your body. And what you’ll let me to do you.”
Rocking into her, Michael started a rhythm that ignited a fierce need in Clarissa. Her legs and arms shook.
“Michael…I can’t stand.” What she wanted to say was, “Get to the fucking, I can’t take it anymore.”
His hands anchored her waist and he moved a few steps backward, forcing her along, still fully impaled, the slight push-pull of their movements enough to keep her near orgasm. Michael lowered them to the stone bench. As she went down, she lodged fully on his rampant cock.
“Fuck, yes,” he groaned. His hands searched underneath the material of her skirts until he found her legs. He coaxed her into spreading them wide so that Michael’s legs were between hers. Then he spread his and forced her wider. Her legs dangled over his, causing the deep probe in her ass to feel like it touched her heart. “Put your hands on my knees, Clarissa.”
When she did, she felt a slight easing. Michael’s hands slid up her legs, only one hand slid into the wet recesses between her legs. One, then two fingers slipped into her body.
“It’s too much,” she whispered. His hips canted slightly beneath her.
“No, darling, you want it. You aren’t getting off this cock until I come and the way I feel right now, that’s not going to happen for hours.” She moaned and used her hands to lever herself upward, only they gave out and she impaled herself once again.
“Would you feel better if I gave you a climax now, or would you rather wait?”
She could hear the laughter in his voice and for a moment, she thought he was paying her back for the earlier torture she’d given him. Her body spasmed.
“Oh, I think you want it now.”
Clarissa thought she’d gone blind with need. The trees and lake diminished into a blurry backdrop. The beat of her heart and the mounting pressure between her legs were the center of her world. His finger tweaked and twirled. Her lower back ached as the muscles reacted to the incandescent pleasure. She arched, trying to find relief.
“That’s it,” he said.
She ignored the weakness in her arms and settled into a pace that stroked and fired her need. Michael’s fingers countered her movements. He was right, she did want it, and badly. She toyed with her own pleasure, building it to a near crescendo, then stopping mid-stroke to temper her orgasm. Her very fingertips were charged with energy. Goose prickles shot down the skin of her back.
Michael’s desires had become her own. She wanted what he wanted.
Somehow, he shifted his legs, turning her slightly and sweeping his mouth down on hers, crushing her lips and devouring her. She felt and heard his moans in her mouth. One of her hands was free and she wrapped it around his neck.
He was climaxing with her. Their mouths were locked together. Michael thrust into her in short jerky spasms. The thrilling, rapturous orgasm swept through her body, overtaking her will and mind and emotions. Her cry was caught in his mouth. She squeezed her eyes shut but tears spilled over anyway.
When they tore their mouths away from each other, their foreheads touched, their breathing labored and loud.
Michael leaned back on the bench, pulling Clarissa with him, his cock sliding out of her ass in a pleasant push. “That’s not why I brought you out here. If you give me a minute, I’ll try to think what the reason was.”
Clarissa lay over him, limp and sated, not knowing what to say. “I love you,” she whispered.
His hand soothed down her back. She still didn’t feel the perfect freedom she’d known with him in the past. This was so new to her. In a way, she still felt innocent and untried and unwilling to disappoint him.
“I have something for you,” he finally said.
She glanced up and found him smiling back at her. “What?”
They both struggled to sit up, to regain some sense of balance, since neither of them seemed to have a grasp on the proprieties of married life. Clarissa stood and shook her skirts into place. One wavy strand of hair had come loose, so she tucked it behind her ear.
Michael worked to secure his trousers. “Aren’t you curious?”
“Does it involve me on my back or my knees?”
He laughed and strode toward her. “Woman, I’m glad I came to my senses. I was a fool to jeopardize what I have with you.” He kissed her, his warm lips barely touching hers. His hand caressed her face. “It’s in my waistcoat pocket. Go on,” he urged.
Hesitantly, she reached for the stitched inner pocket, her fingers slipped inside and touched a cool band. “What is it?”
“See for yourself.”
Clarissa bit back her anticipation and plucked the gift from his pocket. She stared, bewildered for a moment by the simplistic gold band. She rotated it in the light, and then gasped. “Oh, Michael. I’m so sorry. I never meant to lose it.”