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"Hugh...” Irene moaned, sliding her fingers over the wet flesh. “Please..."
"Dammit Irene..." Her husband's voice grated, a violent movement snatched her hand away, holding her wrist in his long fingers, and suddenly his rod was pressing against her, pressing into her.
For the first time, she'd managed to elude what he wanted in favor of what she wanted, by behaving like a complete wanton. It was empowering. Erotic. And the rewards were oh so wonderful. Not that she had any particularly strong feelings against saying ‘fuck,’ but denying him had been wonderful, teasing him even more so and this...
Irene gasped as Hugh thrust hard and deep, splitting her open quite suddenly. As well lubricated as her channel was, it was still a shock for those tight muscles to be so forcibly pushed aside as his rock hard length was buried inside of her. He hooked his arms under her legs, bringing them up so that he could pull her into his thrusts, taking her more deeply.
It felt like he was filling her completely, harder and thicker than ever before, and Irene gripped the edges of the desk, next to her hips, as he began to pound in and out of her. Every time he used his arms to leverage her body into his, she groaned from the incredible sensation. His thrusts were wild, as if he was out of control, and the raw, animalistic passion that she saw on his face was as frightening as it was exciting.
Crying out his name, Irene's body bowed and ached as he took her. The rough passion consumed her, the friction of his fast, deep thrusts making it feel as though she was burning inside and out. The pressure that had built up inside of her swelled and pulsed until she thought she might go mad from it.
“Dammit Irene… Come for me… I want you to scream my name…”
And then Hugh leaned forward, his body pressing against her clitoris as he rocked against her, and Irene's body was engulfed in flames. The ecstasy burgeoned outwards, from a singular point deep inside of her, and filled her completely. She screamed her passion, not a single thought spared for the staff which might be passing by the room at any time.
Hugh's hands gripped her hips, pulling her even more firmly against him as his breathing grew more ragged. Bent nearly in half, her legs splayed and held tightly by his arms, Irene had no defense from the waves of pleasure that continued to swell and surge through her to the point of becoming almost painful in their intensity. She sobbed his name again, pleading with him to slow, to stop, to give her a moment to recover... but her pleas only seemed to increase his passion.
Irene couldn't even let go of the desk to try and use her hands to slow him, his thrusts were so rough, so strong, that she was hanging on for dear life, her fingers locked around the wood. She screamed, high and piercing, as he seemed to grow even larger inside of her and the burning, tingling rapture become too much to bear. Her womb contracted and she writhed, her breasts jiggling, and her body squeezing him tightly over and over again.
Tears leaked down her cheeks as the hardness inside of her became completely unyielding, and then Hugh bellowed his own triumphant ecstasy. Irene gasped for air as her husband rocked against her, the hard rod inside of her pulsing as he released his seed deeply within her. She could feel every spurt, every throb of his member, and she clenched around it, causing him to groan and close his eyes. Hugh’s head tilted back as he filled her, his body slowly relaxing. Then his head fell forward again and the rest of his body followed it, leaning forward to rest his head on her breasts as the last of his climax shuddered through him.
"Mmmm...." Hugh rubbed his head against her breasts, making Irene gasp and clench around him again. Every inch of her body felt exquisitely sensitive in the aftermath of her orgasms. Unwrapping her grip from around the edge of the desk, Irene winced a bit as she flexed sore fingers and reached up to clasp her husband to her. Raising his head at her touch, he gave her an inquisitive look. "And where did all that come from, wife? Have you been touching yourself when I’m not around?"
She blushed hotly. Now that she was coming down from the heights of pleasure, her behavior seemed inexplicable and rather shocking. Although, she still had to admit Hugh's response to it had been very satisfying. "No, I’ve never done anything like that before. I'm not sure... I think... I don't know."
"Well it was delightful," he said, pulling back and pulling her with him as he sat down on his chair, her legs straddling his and her breasts directly in front of his face. Kissing her nipples, one after the other, Hugh grinned at her, looking nothing at all like the golden angel he sometimes resembled and much more like a self-satisfied and dangerous rake. "Anytime the notion takes you again, feel free to run with it."
He pulled her lips down, kissing her deeply, their bodies still joined together. When he finally released her, Irene began to squirm away from him as she remembered that the door was unlocked and the servants might come in at any time. Especially now that there were no noises coming from behind the closed door.
Blushing deeply, although more than a little pleased and quite a bit emboldened by Hugh's obvious appreciation of her wanton behavior, Irene accepted his help in setting herself to rights. Sticky seed seeped down her inner thighs and onto the tops of her stockings, which Hugh wouldn’t let her clean up.
“I like knowing that it’s there,” he murmured, pulling her skirts down over her hips and kissing her again to stifle her protest.
Sighing, Irene decided to let him have his way for the moment. After all, as soon as she was alone she could wipe the uncomfortable mess away. And there was something strangely titillating about having his seed decorating her inner thighs, with no one the wiser. Hugh helped to straighten her rumpled skirts and hindered more than helped to button up her dress. He chuckled over the state of her hair, which caused her to scold him. He stopped her with a kiss, and was still kissing her when a knock came on the door.
Immediately, Irene pushed him away as her face flamed. Her hands flew to her hair, hastily pulling the rest of the pins out and pushing it into the semblance of a bun, so that at least it wasn’t a completely mess. The look her husband gave her was decidedly amused and she scowled at him.
"Yes?" Hugh said after a moment, even though Irene hadn’t quite finished fixing herself up yet. She kicked his ankle and he wagged a finger at her.
The door opened to reveal their butler, Marling. He looked at them with a blank expression, not even blinking. The lack of reaction didn't stop Irene from feeling incredibly embarrassed, knowing that she didn’t look the way she should and that it was very possible Marling knew perfectly well what had been happening in here.
"Lord Braithwhyte is here to see you, my Lord."
"Thank you, Marling. You may put him in the library, I'll speak with him in there." Reaching out, Hugh caught Irene's hand before she could leave and pulled her to him for another thorough kiss.
Beet red and yet glowing from within, Irene retreated from the study a few minutes later, avoiding the entrance to the library.
******
Standing outside the stylish townhouse, Irene gathered her courage. After a few days to think things over, she had come to a rather lowering conclusion: she needed to apologize. In fact, she'd meant to be at this house earlier in the morning, when it was more likely that Lady Grace would be home, but then her interlude in Hugh's study had distracted her as well as necessitating a change of her underskirts and a redoing of her toilette.
She hoped that Lady Grace would be at-home, and hopefully not entertaining a large number of guests. If Irene's mother heard that Irene had visited the scandalous Viscountess... well Irene d
idn't like to think how her mother would react. Although being Hugh's wife offered her quite a bit of protection, especially as her mother was so pleased by her daughter's current position in Society, she wouldn't be forgiving of anything that might endanger that position.
But Irene needed to do this. Not just because Alex was going to reconcile with Lady Grace, or because she and Eleanor were such good friends, but because it was the right thing to do. Irene had been immature and, when she thought about it, rather uncaring and cruel when Grace had only been reacting as any wife would in such a situation. In fact, Grace had been rather circumspect and tolerant. In addition, Irene needed to apologize for her physical attack, which had been completely uncalled for, no matter the situation.
Irene gathered her courage and walked up the steps to the house.
