Her romance novels hadn’t detailed much about how to handle a man’s stones, but Clara figured Hugh would let her know if she made a mistake. The velvety skin seemed incongruous with the thick-veined cock filling her mouth. This was a more vulnerable part of his anatomy it seemed, though no less sensitive as his movements became jerkier upon every gentle roll of her fingers.
She kept testing the texture and weight, cataloging what made Hugh gasp or growl, until finally both of his hands clenched in her hair and held her still as his cock swelled before shooting hot jets of his seed down her throat. Copious amounts filled her mouth, overflowing the clasp of her lips to dribble down her chin and landing on her chest.
“So good. Made for me… So sweet, my little lamb…” The mumbled words weren’t meant for her, she decided, his quiet ramblings mixed with crude epithets as his body calmed, his sated cock slipping from her mouth.
Clara collapsed forward, using Hugh’s legs as support. She felt dizzy. Used. Powerful.
They remained frozen, a strangely romantic statue of a couple after lovemaking until Hugh reclothed himself and knelt before her, taking Clara in his arms. “How are you feeling, little lamb? I didn’t push you too hard, did I?”
“No—” She had to pause and swallow, her voice raw after the fierce pounding it took. “No… it exceeded my expectations. I read about such a thing in T.L. Kenny’s novels, but experiencing the stretch of your cock filling my mouth… It was quite another thing altogether.”
“But you enjoyed it? Some women don’t.”
Sensing an odd vulnerability in the question, Clara turned her head upwards to meet his concerned gaze. She smoothed a hand over his cheek and managed a wobbly smile. “I adored it. Perhaps I shouldn’t have, but we’ve already established I’m a wanton—a minx.”
Hugh grinned, bussing a kiss over her forehead then the tip of her nose before landing on her lips. “Yes, you are. A quality I for one am profoundly grateful for. Shall we return to the manor for a nap? I can tell this has taken the sap out of you by the drowsy look in your eyes. You can barely keep your lashes from fluttering closed.”
She did feel fatigued. A cool drink of water and a nap sounded divine. As long as Hugh remained by her side.
Afternoon sunlight faded in the room as Hugh held Clara during her nap. He’d thought to join her in sleep, but his mind was too chaotic for rest after their picnic and following interlude in the woods. She’d sucked his cock, let him abuse her sweet body for his own pleasure—to the point where she lay exhausted in his arms now—and Hugh couldn’t fathom why.
For all his talk of her being a wicked minx, she was still a respectable young lady. The Netherfields had faults, but they were a good family that kept out of Society’s gossiping eye. Except Clara Netherfield broke the mold.
Wanton yet innocent. Respectable and passionate. A man’s dream come true if Hugh bothered to dream these days. He was too old for youthful fantasies, and understood their affair was a brief detour from the long life Clara had ahead of her. He was silly to think otherwise.
Besides, he wasn’t looking for a more permanent relationship. After Louisa, he’d never planned on marrying again. And what would his daughters say? Marrying their close friend? A woman half his age?
Hugh must have lost his senses back in those woods along with his self-control—coming down Clara’s throat like a greenling who held nothing back.
“You’re awake.” Clara’s sleepy voice distracted him from his perilous thoughts, and he gladly shoved them away to focus on the woman warming his side.
“Truthfully, I never fell asleep. How was your nap? Feeling better?”
“Feeling energized.” To punctuate her point, she cuddled closer, tossing one of her legs over his waist to half-straddle him.
“I see… I suppose you’re ready for me to continue your education, then?”
“Does that mean you’ll finally take me fully?” She bit her lip as if somehow it could hide the excitement lighting her eyes. “Not that I haven’t enjoyed our extended prelude, but I’m quite eager to experience the main event.” A grind of her hips drove her pussy over his burgeoning cock.
Placing his hands on her lush hips, Hugh admonished, “Don’t discount the pleasure of our previous activities, those are just as much ‘main events’ as my cock fucking your pussy. Society just prefers to place more importance on the removal of a woman’s maidenhead, an archaic belief when you think about it.”
Clara sighed and traced her fingers over his chest, the vestiges of her drowsiness clearly dissipated. “I agree… Though I still want your cockfucking my pussyas you so politely put it,” she teased.
“And you shall have it. In fact…” Hugh tugged on the fragile nightgown he’d given Clara to change into upon their return to the manor—another one of his gifts. The lavender silk cascaded over his hands until he found her bare skin and readjusted her over his cock.
“Since you’re a modern woman, brazen in ways I never expected, I’ll allow you to take charge of your own deflowering.”
“What do you mean?”
He tipped his chin downwards before relaxing against the pillow beneath his head. “Remove my cock from its constraints. You’re going to slide that sweet cunt of yours along its length so it’s nice and wet, then you’re going to ride me while I enjoy watching the bounce of your breasts.” To enhance his view he ripped the flimsy bodice in half, the two silky sides flapping open to reveal their bounty—fleshy globes of delight tipped with taut nipples. Perfect for him to suckle if he so chose.
Clara glanced down to where their bodies met, concentration written on the furrows above her brows. Reaching out, she undid his breeches, her soft hands encircling what she could of his cock before positioning him between her thighs.
“Like this?” The velvet warmth of her folds enveloped him, and he nodded, urging her forward to show her how smoothly he glided with her silky cream easing the way.
“Just so… Get me good and soaked. Your cunt’s unused to intrusions, so we need to prepare as well as possible before you take me.” Determined to heed his advice, his little lamb rocked against him, an expression of awe and determination on her face.