Alexander stepped closer to her, backing her up against her ludicrously large bed, the advance silencing her just as he’d hoped.
“I assure you, you have no idea what I’m thinking,” he replied, tracing his fingertips slowly up her arm.
“I don’t?” she asked, licking her lips; her gaze was glassy, and she seemed to have lost the conversation. Alexander shook his head slowly, then reached out and lifted her onto the bed. She sat stiffly, unsure of herself. He knelt, grateful to whoever had designed this bed at this particular height. A man with a proclivity for tasting his lovers, no doubt. Alexander grazed his hands up her legs, slowly pushing her night rail up. Her breath hitched, which he would have enjoyed more if his own were steadier. Sometime in the past forty seconds he’d lost the ability to appear unmoved.
The prospect of being with her again was frightening in its appeal. He’d tipped rather far over the line of wanting his wife, and into need. The sight of Harriet’s exposed thighs pushed the concern aside.
Slowly, starting with her calves, Alexander availed himself of her, stopping to trace the backs of her knees. At his light caress, Harriet jumped. Her responsiveness to his touch ignited something. Well, his cock; it ignited his cock. Had he any thought she might be ready for such an act, he would have roughly spread her legs, licked her to her crisis, and then turned her around and fucked her against the bed without speaking a word.
At least he could do the first part—it seemed the most reliable way to assure Harriet that her quim was most certainly in working order. Reassurance was what she’d asked for, was it not?
Even the most delicate kisses trailed up her bare thighs made her squirm. He used his hands to slowly spread her legs wider, finally giving him an unobstructed view of the part of her which had consumed most of his thoughts for the past week. He hadn’t been able to look last time, between the darkness of the inn and the positions they were in. But now he was treated to the full glory of her cunt, hot and wet with need. A need matched by his own to taste her, to show her just how good she could feel. Perhaps, in some small way, to show her what she could have if she gave up her resolution to never consummate their vows.
Alexander leaned in and slowly licked along her center, just once. Harriet let out a moan that the entire household probably heard, the fact of which thrilled him.
“You—? I didn’t know!” she gasped, clenching her legs together in shock as Alexander looked up and met her eyes. Her surprise at the act wasn’t unexpected; still, he relished it.
Instead of answering, he simply spread her legs once more and licked her again. And then again. He wrapped his hands behind her legs and brought her closer to his mouth as she moaned and whined, gripping the coverlet, her knuckles turning white, her legs shaking. He unhooked one arm and brought it to his mouth, wetting his fingers before bringing them to her core and opening her. His mouth returned to its task, and she let out an incoherent scream, grasping at his shoulder and his hair, pushing him away and pulling him close, unsure of what she needed. But he knew.
Breathlessly, she watched from above as he thrust his finger slowly in and out in time with the speed her hips moved against his mouth. Her shouts turned eventually to pleas, begging him to keep going, begging him not to stop, begging him for things she didn’t have the words for. He was so far beyond arousal he wasn’t even aware of his own needs, only hers. Only the sounds she was making and her uneven breath and the way she pulled his hair too hard.
And then she came apart against his mouth with a string of incoherent words and curses. Only after she stopped writhing against him did he rise and collapse onto the bed beside her.
For a few moments they lay next to each other, each grateful the other hadn’t said a word yet. Happy to simply exist in silence together after that.
As they came down off the high, Harriet decided to speak up. Alexander felt the corner of his mouth tilt up; she could hardly leave words unspoken, could she?
“Do you ever need help with this?” His smile collapsed immediately, so busy was his mouth with groaning. “I should like to help, if ever you need it.”
“Harriet,” he growled, tossing an arm over his eyes.
“Does it work the same way for you? That sometimes you cannot achieveiton your own?”
“God, I wish I felt no compunction about lying to you.” He turned his head slightly and watched out of the corner of his eye as understanding dawned on her face. “It’s different for men, I think. Easier. Why, a poorly sprung carriage can get a schoolboy stiff.”
“Acarriagecan make you …” Harriet moved her hand to indicate the rest of the sentence.
“Come? No, no. Just hard. At least, when you’re a randy lad of fourteen. Eventually, it requires more, although not much. Especially recently.” He should not have said that, but thankfully Harriet’s curiosity overtook her.
“Hard?”
“Cocks get hard when they’re … ready. Damned inconvenient at times.”
Harriet rolled over to observe him, and he felt his gut clench. He should know better than to talk with her about these things. Harriet liked talking about intercourse a bit too much for his poor prick’s taste.
“Is it ready now?” she asked, looking unabashedly at his breeches.
Alexander let out what was some mixture of a laugh and a guffaw and a groan of agony. “Quite, Harriet.”
“I see.” She chewed on that information for a moment, biting her lip in a way that Alexander felt must have been designed to make his condition more difficult to endure. “So helping me didn’t bother you?”
“I couldn’t be further from bothered.” More precisely, he was an entirely different type of bothered, but he didn’t want to debate Harriet on semantics now. Or ever really. That was a losing battle.
“But you didn’t … come? Did you?”
“No, you would know if I had.”
“How?”
