Taming Maria, page 9
She shook off his hand. 'This is nothing to do with you, my lord.' But all the time she was remembering how he had kissed her, caressed her breasts and fondled her cunny.
'Maybe not, but this is a rough place and you are taking risks. It must be for a worthy cause, and a lover seems the obvious choice.'
'Not my lover. I'm helping my friend, Lady Jane. She's in love with the clergyman who used to teach at our school. He's a fine person but not wealthy enough to ask her parents if he may woo her. They are forced to meet in secret.'
'I see, and where are they now?'
'In the tap-room. Tranter is looking to our welfare. He's one of Lady Arabella's grooms.'
'Will you permit me to offer my assistance?'
Despite her stubbornness that was insisting she could manage alone, she was thankful he had come along, and not only for safety's sake. Once again she was conscious of his attraction, irresistibly drawn to him. It was hard not to press closer. She wanted to touch him, to stroke his face and wind her fingers in his hair. Damien had introduced her to passion, and she would never be the same again.
They walked back together, and Jane's eyes widened with alarm when she saw Charles. 'Don't worry,' Maria said as she took the place beside her. 'He is a friend and will help us.'
His presence brought comfort, although she was not sure if she could trust him, she had to admit that she needed a man to protect her. Though this was a sign of weakness the tavern was a threatening place, the men quarrelsome, belligerent and argumentative. Amidst the racket going on around them she tried to assess Charles, his motives and sincerity. Impressions fixed in her mind from their last encounter came back and were reiterated. A lean man, with a thin, handsome face, hazel eyes under long lashes and peaked brows over which fell strands of brown hair. He carried an air of authority that marked him as well born.
As then, he was smartly dressed, but now wore serviceable attire, as if he was out and about on business, not pleasure. He nodded to Jane, acknowledging that they had met, and she introduced him to Robin. A glance across the room showed Maria that Tranter was still there.
'It's getting too dangerous to stay,' Charles said. 'The constables will be here any minute and we must get away, for they may arrest us along with the others and we'll have to spend the night in a lock-up. Not the happiest of experiences, I can assure you.'
He headed for the entrance, and the others followed. On the way he nodded to Tranter who fell in behind. In a short time they were walking towards a more salubrious area where the streets were cleaner and the houses more imposing. 'I live down that way,' Robin said, arm in arm with Jane. 'I was hoping you might visit me there, dearest.'
'But I'm supposed to take you home, ladies,' protested Tranter. 'Emily will give me an ear-bashing and refuse all favours if I leave you.'
'Don't worry, my good fellow.' It seemed natural that Charles should take command. 'Get a cab back and tell Emily, whoever that may be...'
'My maid,' Maria interjected.
'Well, tell her I will see that they are driven home in my own coach.'
'And you are, sir?'
'Lord Charles Bradley, acquainted with Lady Maria's guardian.' To add weight to his words he produced a gold coin from his pocket and flipped it across to Tranter. 'Here's the fare, and something for your trouble.'
'Thank you, my lord. Your secret is safe with me.' Tranter touched his hat and made off into the darkness. 'I live in River Street at number ten,' Robin said, his arm round Jane. 'It's not far from here.'
'I know it. Be ready in an hour, Lady Jane. It's not long, I know, but you need to be at Armitage House before your absence is discovered.'
The couple hurried off, and Charles turned to Maria. 'You'll come inside? I can offer you a drink and we need to talk.'
She had little to lose, having thrown respectability and caution to the winds. Every part of her reckless nature was urging her to go with him. She trusted him, too, far more than she did the viscount. She nodded and they walked to his front door. The house had been built in the reign of Queen Anne, detached and surrounded by garden. Charles produced a key and let them into the hall. This was illuminated by candlesticks in holders on the walls between landscape paintings, and the floor was tiled in black and white, like a giant chessboard.
Maria tiptoed, exchanging amused glances with him. 'My housekeeper is abed upstairs,' he murmured, and indicated a door on the right. 'Let's go into my study.'
He lit a candle from one in the hall and applied it to a branched stick on a wide desk, then went round igniting others. The atmosphere was warm and friendly, the walls lined with books and a fire smouldering on the hearth. Charles stirred it with a brass poker and added more coal, then said, 'I must leave you for a moment and find my man, Bates, and tell him to prepare the carriage. I shan't be long.'
Maria settled on the couch drawn close to the fire. She took off her hat and jacket and freed her hair. It tumbled about her shoulders like a fiery cloud. There was no need for caution now and she took off her shirt and unbound her breasts, then slipped the garment on again, leaving some of the buttons undone.
Her sensible self wondered what she was doing in his house, but her desires knew precisely why she had come. It was time she experienced what intercourse meant. Damien had partly shown her, but left the act incomplete. She did not want to wait any longer, and disliked his arrogant assumption that he would win her and become her legal lord and master. She had never liked anyone telling her what to do.
Charles stood in the doorway. He walked to the table where a decanter and glasses stood. Filling two, he joined her on the couch. 'Let us not waste time,' he said, after draining his. 'We both know that we shall be lovers, so why beat about the bush?'
'I'm a virgin, and the viscount swears that he will make me his wife.'
'Do you love him?'
'No, but I find him intriguing.'
'He's after your fortune. He will do anything for money. Not that I'm suggesting this is all there is to it. You are extremely beautiful and he appreciates beauty almost as much as he does power.'
'You seem to be well acquainted with him.'
'We were friends long ago at university, but went in different directions later. He's away overseas a great deal, so I understand.'
'Lady Arabella told me, and I had never seen him until the race.'
'I am aware of this. I shall never forget you in that phaeton, looking like a young charioteer. I determined to meet you. That's the main reason why I attended his soiree, and I've not forgotten our encounter in the conservatory. What do you suppose would have happened had we not been interrupted?'
'I can't say, sir,' she blurted out, heat rushing through her.
He was so close she could not gather her wits. She could smell him, a musky, male odour overlaid with perfumed pomade. His arm was resting along the back of her shoulders and it was so easy to slide down a little and rest her head on his chest. She could hear the steady beat of his heart and allowed herself to sink into him.
'You make a lovely boy.' He dropped his hand to her crotch and laughed. Maria's cheeks were hot and she resented his amusement as he continued, 'Breeches suit you, showing your delectable bottom. If you were really a lad I might turn to sodomy.' His eyes were bright and his mouth eager as it closed on hers.
She could not help but respond, her tongue tangling with his, her breasts lifting under the shirt, straining to be caressed. He undid the buttons and spread the front wide, admiring and touching each in turn. This time she knew there was no turning back. This time she would lose her virginity.
It was as if she had spoken and Charles heard her. He lost some of his control, becoming almost harsh in his handling of her. 'Lie back, Maria,' he whispered, kneeling beside the couch so that she might stretch full length. 'Let me pleasure you. I shall be honoured to be your first lover.'
He opened her shirt fully and kissed her lobes, her neck and then her breasts. She felt his hands at her waistband, tugging at her breeches and she raised her hips a little so that they slid away from her. Now she wore nothing but shirt and hose. Charles sat back and admired her, then kissed her belly and combed through her mound, inserting a finger into her. She gasped at the joy of feeling him spreading open her labia and finding her pleasure bud.
He moved to lie across her and she felt his erect penis push against her. Her hand reached down to fondle its wet head and long hard stem. He was harsh now, less controlled. She had suspected that he might be a forceful lover and wanted it. She was dappled by firelight and candle glow but he noticed the bruises on her thighs.
'Who did this? Was it the viscount?' he demanded angrily.
'He punished me last night. In the vault, with some of his guests watching, and Lady Arabella too. He was angry because I had spoken with you. He tied me up, let his friends make free with me and whipped me.' The memory was adding to her excitement.
It seemed to stir Charles too, though he expressed fury. 'That perverted bastard! It was ever his way... submission, chastisement, bending women to his will.'
'He didn't take me, or satisfy me. But I know he'll try again. He wants me to be his slave and has already put me across his knee and spanked me.'
'Like this?' Before she realised his intention he sat up and pulled her across his lap, his naked penis like a bough between them. She felt his palm striking her buttocks, not too hard but enough to rouse those feelings deep within her that rejoiced in being treated in this way.
His blows fell swiftly, like summer rain, hard enough to send sparks shooting through her, but not so severe that they counteracted pleasure with pain. It was stimulating, underlining his strength and passion, making her feel feminine and weak and vulnerable, although she was all too aware that she was neither of these. Kneeling over her he turned her so that she faced him.
'I shall not force you. Tell me you want this.'
'I do... I think I do...' she stammered, dazzled by his beauty.
He nodded, left her and stripped, then stood before her, his naked body that of an athlete, muscular and tanned by exposure to the sun. His waist was slim, his belly flat and his cock rose up from its wiry thatch, straight as a lance, the bulbous glans shiny and red. He let her take her fill of looking, guessing that the masculine organ was an unfamiliar curiosity. He took it in his hand and it grew bigger as he stretched the foreskin over the helm and back again. The penis jerked as if having a life of its own. He lifted it and showed Maria his balls. They hung like two ripe fruits in their wrinkled sac.
Maria gaped, not knowing whether to be impressed or repulsed. Could she ever take a thing that big into her untried channel?
As if reading her mind Charles knelt across her and his mouth met hers while his fingers slipped across her clitoris, bringing it to the peak but not to completion. He lifted her legs up and around his waist and she felt his cock-tip moving between her labial lips. Using a hand as a guide he rubbed the helm over her nubbin, and then continued to stimulate it with his fingers as his phallus found the entrance to her vagina and lingered there for a moment.
Maria tightened her legs around him and buried her hands in his hair, dragging him closer. This was the moment for which she had been longing yet dreading; the invasion of her virginity, the sacrifice of her maidenhead. She would never be the same again.
He took his weight on his rigid arms, and then thrust slowly. 'Ow... ooh!' she protested as her hymen resisted this invasion. He stopped, partly within her. His hand came down between them and he massaged her clitoris. The need to come blotted out any discomfort and, still frigging her bud, he thrust slowly forward, and then with a fierce jerk, sheathed himself inside her.
Maria moaned with pain and shock. Charles remained still, buried in her virgin hole. Master of the erotic art that he was, he continued to stroke the rigid nubbin, rousing her to intense pleasure, making her forget the discomfort of his prick, that large object forcing its way inside her.
'Hold the base of my cock,' he told her. 'Let me pleasure you before I thrust in deeper. I don't want to hurt you and can tell that I'm ploughing untilled soil.'
She whimpered her need as his clever finger brought her higher and higher till orgasm burst within her. Then Charles gave in to his lust, penetrating her fully, withdrawing and entering again and again. She could feel his pubic bone grazing her throbbing clitoris and his balls slapping against her perineum. Heaving beneath him, urging him to push deeper and harder, her nails dug into his back like the claws of a wild cat in season.
His hips pumped, her wet passage receiving him with greater ease and he lost control, crushing her beneath him as he frenziedly sought relief. They rolled from the couch to the floor and this gave him greater purchase. He drove into her brutally and she felt his cock chafing her bud at every stroke, the sensation rushing through her, building and building to another orgasmic explosion. She cried out as she came again. Charles gave another savage thrust followed by a deep bark of satisfaction, flooding her with his seed.
They collapsed on the carpet then, smiling into each other's eyes, came back from the paradise of sensual pleasure to harsh reality. 'I must take you home, sweetheart,' he said, kissing the tip of her nose.
'It this the end? Shall we meet again?' She despised herself for asking, wanting to appear ice-cool, as if losing her virginity was an everyday event.
Charles looked down at her. He was already dressing, shirt and breeches on, transforming him once more into a gentleman, not a god of love. 'That's rather up to you,' he said, with his quirky smile. 'How strong are you and how much do you obey your guardian?'
'He has control of my money for another three years.' She began to realise just how much Damien was in charge and how hopeless it was to fight him.
Charles stood in front of the mirror, adjusting his cravat and combing his fingers through his hair. 'You could talk to your aunt. I know Arabella quite well and she's not an unreasonable person.'
'He has a hold over her. She seems to enjoy him being cruel to her.'
'They are of the same persuasion.' Charles's eyes were angry. Maria hoped he never looked at her like that. 'We can meet secretly for the time being, if you wish, and see what transpires.'
'Perhaps he'll go off to the West Indies again. He has sugar plantations there.' She, too, had dressed, but had not bothered to tie back her hair or bind her breasts.
Charles shrugged. 'Who knows? He seems to be a law unto himself.'
His tone made her uneasy. 'You know something about him, don't you? What is it? Tell me.'
He tapped the side of his nose mysteriously, still smiling. 'No, my dear.'
'Oh, Charles! Don't tease!' Her arms were round him and he clipped her waist, hugging her, his mouth hovering just above hers.
The door crashed open. 'Well, well!' said a scornful female voice. 'What's all this, Charlie? Are you buggering boys now?'
He turned, his arm still holding Maria. 'Good evening, Sally,' he said calmly. 'I wasn't expecting you.'
'So I see,' she retorted, her eyes going over Maria, scalpel sharp. 'I've got a key, remember?' He ignored her, gathering up his hat and Maria's and guiding her out of the door. 'Where are you off to?' Sally demanded, arms akimbo.
'I'm taking my friend home, and I don't want to find you here when I get back. Understand?'
'Oh, hoity-toity!' Sally mocked. 'Your friend, is it? We'll see about that.'
Charles stood to one side, his stance insisting that she went down the hall before him. 'Get out, Sally, and don't come back until I send for you. Give me the key.' He held out his hand and, with a curse, she dropped it into his open palm.
'Right!' Sally glared at him and then at Maria. 'You won't get rid of me that easily, and as for you... boy, girl or whatever you are, you haven't seen the last of me!'
Chapter 7
Robin used his key to gain entrance to one of a row of three-storied houses. A lantern mitigated the gloom of the hall, and he was about to lead Jane up the narrow staircase when a door opened and a man was silhouetted there.
'Come in, Robin,' he boomed, his voice loud and cheery. 'No sneaking off to your room until you've joined us in a bumper of ale. Ah, I see you're not alone. Bring your friend in too.'
'Thanks, Will,' Robin said reluctantly, and his hand tightened on Jane's.
She found herself in an untidy parlour, where a black iron kettle hung on a trivet over an open fire and several equally untidy young men lounged on broken-down couches and in sagging armchairs. One sat at the table, books spread out before him, head in his hands as he carried on studying, oblivious of the general banter, coarse jokes and laughter.
'Good evening, Robin,' shouted a ginger-haired individual, waving his tankard. 'We're holding a debate on Socrates. Was he or was he not a pederast?'
'And this is going to help you to get through your examination on Greek philosophers?' Robin took this in his stride and Jane's admiration for him mounted. 'I shouldn't think his sexual persuasion will make an iota of difference to your marks, Johnny.'
'Don't be so damned pedantic,' Johnny retorted, but still in a joking vein. 'It's blatantly obvious, my boy, that you'll come to naught and eke out your existence as a curate in some rural backwater.'
'This suits me very well,' Robin said, and Jane was acutely uncomfortable, certain that they would see through her disguise. She could not refuse when a mug was put in her hand, but found the ale too strong.
Johnny toasted her, and then put his tankard down. 'Who's your friend, Robin? Are you fond of choirboys? If I didn't know you better, I say you've brought one home for private tuition.'
Every eye turned to Jane. Even the scholar at the table glanced her way. There was a hush, then Robin cleared his throat and said, 'This is not a boy, sirs. Let me introduce Jane. We love one another, but I should not be considered wealthy or influential enough for her father to give us his blessing. We have to meet in secret and tonight she dressed in a groom's clothing and met me at The Three Tuns.'
