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Right now, even Cressida didn’t understand. She had no idea of the nature of the practicalities that Miss Mariah had suggested might be the answer to her troubles. How could she properly explain to Justin her encounter with a common doxy who’d promised to show her ways to minimize conception during love-making? Or of the alternative sensory exploration she’d witnessed earlier in the evening? She could no more do that than sail into White’s and join her husband for a whiskey at his club.
And then, as her gaze inadvertently beheld the size of his erection beneath his nightshirt, that alternative sensory exploration returned as a possible salvation.
She blocked her mind to the fact he might question her motivations when it was so out of character for her to take such an initiative. All she needed right now were delaying tactics, and if th
ey made Justin happy, all the better.
Quickly, without saying a word, she pressed him onto his back and shimmied beneath the bedcovers, taking his erection in her hands and flicking her tongue across the tip of his manhood.
She heard his sudden intake of breath in the silence and stilled. Waiting. The man at Mrs. Plumb’s had certainly enjoyed such a sensation, but what would Justin think when it was his wife attending to him in such a manner? Would he be similarly enthralled...or horrified?
At least it was better than any other alternative that involved procreation.
His entire body was rigid with surprise—and anticipation?— but he said nothing, just placed his hand gently on her head and breathed out in one long sigh.
Emboldened, Cressida drew the length of him into her mouth. How hard and hot it was. And how delightful it was to be the giver of such pleasure. Always she’d waited for Justin to initiate any variation on their bedroom delights.
Another groan. Surely she wasn’t hurting him? The look of ecstasy on the face of tonight’s bronzed warrior suggested a man did not find such attention painful. No, Justin’s groan was definitely pleasure, for he was as tense as an arrow’s bow. She shifted onto her knees, feeling the moisture between her thighs, a sign of her own excitement. She gently increased the pressure with her hands around his rigid shaft while her mouth moved up and down, her tongue flicking the length of him. She was balancing the score and she was enjoying doing it. She could do this every night without ever having to worry about conceiving again.
On this happy thought, she focused her entire attention upon pleasuring Justin, using her tongue along the length of his shaft— just as she’d seen it done at Mrs. Plumb’s—circling it before taking him deeply into her mouth in a series of languorous thrusts.
“Cressida...darling...” His voice was hoarse as he dug his fingers into her shoulders. He seemed to be straining, using every ounce of willpower to keep still. She sensed what he must be feeling. She’d felt it many times, herself, when Justin’s pleasuring had brought her to the cusp and she’d held back, feeling a strange mixture of both terror and ecstasy before spiraling into the glorious abyss.
She wanted Justin to feel the same wonderful sensations to which he’d introduced her. Exultation, pride and satisfaction welled up inside her. Without Mrs. Plumb’s help, Cressida had discovered the secret to bringing her husband pleasure without implicating herself in anything that would return to haunt her.
Like another baby.
His breath was quick and shallow. The sound made her feel all-powerful. Her nipples ached and her sex pulsed in response, but she tried to close her mind to her own bodily sensations. They could most definitely not be acted upon.
“My glorious...darling...wife,” he whispered, gripping her shoulders, and all the pent-up tension and fear Cressida had felt during these last months at the thought of intimacy with Justin simply drained away .
Until, with a gasp, he gently pushed aside her head, deftly drew her up beside him, rolled her onto her back and covered the length of her with his hard, needy body. She closed her eyes as she felt his erection press into her stomach before he adjusted himself lower.
Lower, so that his manhood was near her slick, wanting entrance and she was balanced on the edge of well-trained silence, contemplating the destruction of all her well-laid plans.
Being plundered by her husband was so very far from them, yet this was Justin, wanting her, needing her. Even as he slid into her, she felt her heart cry out at the rightness of this physical coupling, yet her brain roared its terrified objection.
One more week.
That’s all she wanted. One more week so she could learn how a man could come inside a woman without making her pregnant. It was possible. Having learned this for fact, she knew she couldn’t become a tacit collaborator in her own destruction, however much she wanted it at this moment.
Dragging her mouth from his, she struggled beneath him, pushing him away and wriggling her hips in clear objection rather than escalation of the sexual act.
“No!”
Her cry sounded much too harsh and her breathing, fast and clearly distressed, reverberated through the room. Instantly he released her and she rolled onto her side. “Cressida?” His voice was thick with concern. “What is it?”
What is it?
What could she say? What should she say? I don’t want your child, Justin, and am busy investigating ways to ensure I need never become pregnant again, if you could just be patient another week.
If they were having this conversation before becoming intimate, she might have fumbled her way into making some semblance of sense. Right now, however, with fear and terror and guilt bombarding her with equal relentlessness, she did not know what to say.
“I’m so sorry, Justin,” she whispered, withdrawing from his embrace and putting her hands to her temples as she swung her legs over the side of the bed, “but I feel another megrim coming on.”
He dropped his hands, the faintest of exhalations stirring the hair at her temples, and Cressida felt his withdrawal, both physical and emotional, as he slowly got out of bed.
“You should have said something before, darling.” He rose up before her, his look puzzled, but suspicious.
