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Aurelia attempted to participate in the village’s life as much as her duties to the estate allowed her. This made her utterly popular among people. She established a network of help to the elderly, at the same time she channelled their time to helping the children. Those who enjoyed good health would take care of the children while the children’s parents engaged in work. So, she suggested a day-care of sorts attached to the church. This gave the lonely elders a purpose, the children, company and the working people, tranquillity. Conversely, the teenagers who afforded the time would take care of the convalescent elderly, in a cycle of mutual help. They cherished her idea and her investment in people skills. Many of them expressed gratitude for her ideas and actions.
At the dance, she did not stand still for a single minute. Many a gentleman invited her to dance. It had been like this the previous years as well. Conrad never accompanied her, and she did not refuse dancing invitations, as she loved dancing and always became so entertained. Even Coleman took her on a fast country-dance this time.
Conrad could not avoid the burn of jealousy, seeing her dancing with all of them. Even Coleman! The steward spent too much time with her. Much more than he, Conrad, did. Unpleasant conclusion, he thought. The steward rode with her around the estate almost every day, even though she always took her lady’s maid or a tenant’s wife or daughter with her. Conrad envied the amount of time they spent together, while she left him to his own devices, helping as he should, but away from her.
He strode to the dance-floor as the music finished. “I believe it to be my turn now, Coleman.” Unable to disguise the dryness I his voice.
Coleman looked at her too long as she curtsied elegantly. Conrad did not approve this long, or shall he say, longing in the man, but he decided to let it be for the time being.
When she turned to him, her face became marble-like, expressionless. He laced her by the waist and brought her to him, hearing her breath catch. Good. The others may covet her as much as they liked; she belonged to him though. He would make it very, very clear to everyone present.
A slow folk ballad started, making him bring her closer, his thumb caressing the back of her hand, ostensive.
“Stop it!” She commanded between her teeth.
“Stop what?” He stared down, deep in her darkened rosewood eyes.
Her eyes locked up at his as their bodies moved to the rhythm of the old ballad. Country-dances tended to be more permissive than ballroom dances and he took full advantage of it.
Aurelia found it wrenchingly difficult to tamp down the scorching reaction of her body to him. It remembered that night, that kiss, contrary to the orders her head sent it. After a few minutes, she desisted to oppose resistance; she allowed her body to accept and flow. How many times had she not dreamed of dancing with him here? Every single damned year she came and danced with those who meant nothing to her. Thoughts rested on the vague possibility he might show up and keep her company. Three of those fairs, without counting the ones before their marriage. He appeared once or twice then, but never danced with her, pitifully. Frustration through and through, one way or the other.
When he departed to India, she thought it easier—no expectations of him coming, so she enjoyed whatever there was to enjoy. In the beginning, she expected better, though she had not allowed herself to skip the fun. Now he stood here, before her, holding her close and his full attention, his dark eyes, on her. A dream come true. She would not throw it away after having wished it for so years. Would permit herself to live out the fantasy, even though she saw it would not last, eventually he would disappoint her. She forced herself to forget the bitter past, to live the moment.
And the moment proved to be intense, searing. Unable to sustain his piercing stare, she lowered hers; her body melted into his, into his strength, his spicy-scented warmth, his breath on her cheek. The old song building new memories. Purposefully, he fell out of tempo, grazing his hips on her, as she registered his manhood solid and undeniable. Her eyes snapped back to his; they sent a message to her, molten, undisguised. The world vanished, leaving only the two of them, under the stars. Her body sagged, and she held his shoulder for fear of falling. The moves took on another meaning entirely. It was as if they danced to a tun
e of their own, explicit, sensuous, half way through to the real act. Her core eager, ready. She envisioned them out in the fields, venting this uncontrollable desire. He over her, in her. Driving her to hell, to madness, to paradise.
Suddenly, he stopped. She forced herself out of the sultry haze the dance threw her in during those minutes. The ballad had come to an end. He stared at her; she stared back. Reluctant, he released her. Automatically, she curtsied, walking away as a zombie. A frustrated zombie.
For the rest of the time, they did not come near each other. Did not dare! Even so, their eyes crossed in the night, searching. She tried not to, to no avail. She searched him; sensed it, he searched her. Or vice versa, who cared. At the end of the night, they strode to the carriage.
As soon as she sat opposite him, her rosewood eyes lifted to his and, they absorbed each other for lengthening minutes, the air around them filled with electrical tension. Conrad let the dam loose; he grabbed her and sat her across his lap, kissing her with desert thirst. During the dance, there had been a savage urge to lift her on his shoulder, take her somewhere quiet, and slake their lust. He had been almost at it, when the ballad finished, saving them the shame.
Here, she did not resist him. On the contrary, she grabbed his hair and pressed her lips to his, as thirsty as he; their tongues seeking each other with urgency. His hand roving her exposed neck, revelling in her soft skin. She needed new dresses. Ones that showed her off, unrestricted. So, he would taste her in any carriage trip.
She moved to stride him, skirts angling around them, forgotten. Oh, god! She pressed her body to his. He rumbled approval. His she-wolf! He pressed her hips to his, hallucinated with pleasure. They continued kissing with free reign. He slid his stubble mouth down her slender neck as she sighed and gave him more access.
On the brink of claiming her, the carriage jerked to a halt. Hell! Quickly, they composed themselves and entered the manor. Hughes greeted them at the door; they greeted back distracted and climbed up the stairs, as civilised as they managed.
In front of his chamber, she turned to him as if to say goodnight. He did not give her the chance; did not give her time, incapable of it. He laced her narrow waist and glued her to him, opening his door. She whimpered in his mouth. He pressed her against the closed door, his body so hot and hard, he thought he would go up in the air like dynamite. Their kiss devoured, ravened, pounced, inflamed.
He undressed her; she undressed him in addled movements, just focused on touching skin and heat. Finally, skin found skin, like never in their flawed marriage. He registered her body, more than he looked at it. Perfection, the very definition of perfection, igniting urgency, franticness. He carried her to bed and placed her on the fluffy mattress. He must slow down somehow. Must. Or everything would be finished in a second, for pity’s sake! She drove him to desperation.
He made her flex her knees. He would give her due. What she deserved. Had always had. He lowered his head single-minded to her middle.
Aurelia looked at him at a loss. What the blazes was he doing? She craved… And lost it. O-oh! His mouth –oh–on her–oh! His stubble lips caressing her most sensitive spot, drinking her juices, provoking, teasing. She arched back, holding his head there, out of her mind. So delicious! His tongue, his stubble, his lips; she would burst in a million pieces. He continued relentless, merciless. She saw more stars than in the night sky! She screamed, her hips seeking him, everything.
His eyes looked at her from down there, charring, shining with the fireplace fire, hotter than it. She pulled him up, impatient.
“More!” Was the only thing she blurted.
A smug half smile on his handsome face. “Everything, my she-wolf!”
He moved over her, to obey her, obey their indomitable hunger. Her legs surrounded him, coaxing him. In a second, he was in her, deep and complete as she sighed and moaned.
Oh, he adored the way she claimed him, all woman and hunger; her aroused scent enticing. She was so tight! He grunted. Panted. Inside her, he came home, in full sense. His cock so hard, to splitting point. To surge in her, carnal pleasure mingling with other more confused emotions, pulling him, wrenching him, combusting him. His hardness entered her ever more frenetically, losing contact with reality. The universe was her inner flesh, sucking him, massaging him, sheltering him; bringing him to an unbearable state.
He buried his face in her neck, going deeper and deeper, hearing her moans, building her tension, giving her what she craved. She dismantled before his very eyes, her channel squeezing him to maddening point, as her head turned on the pillow, a ragged cry leaving her delectable lips.
