The Dowager Countess (The Saga of Wolfbridge Manor Book 2), Sahara Kelly [best thriller novels to read txt] 📗

stood, walked to the bed and looked at her, then cupped her cheek, raised her face and kissed her. It was a solid kiss, tongue, lips…fingers spreading down to caress her neck and chin. But she felt more comforted by it, than aroused. Perhaps that was his intent.

Then he reached down and pushed her legs apart, and the kiss turned to something else.

*~~*~~*

Journal of Gwyneth, Dowager Countess, Lady of Wolfbridge - May 1818

 

I don’t know what time it is, other than it is late…my candles are nearly gutted and I am exhausted, but since next week is the final stage of preparation for the Whit Sunday fête, I know it will be busy. And I have thoughts to write down that must be captured now, while they’re still fresh in my mind.

Royce. One name, one simple name, but a very complex and unexpected man.

I told him of my loss, my pain - I believe he understood. Did he also understand my shame? I’m not sure, since I cannot say I understand it myself. But it is there, a silent but present agony that I will probably always carry with me. He confirmed he was once a soldier, and that alone helped when I began my sorry tale. I saw something in his eyes, sympathy or an equal pain…whatever it was he listened and finally comforted me with a deep and loving kiss.

I say loving, because that’s how it felt. For those moments, I truly felt as if he was soothing me, telling me that he understood, and that I could put down my sorrow for a little while.

His movements after that - well, any thoughts of the past and sorrow were driven completely out of my head.

He was standing before me, then suddenly he reached down, thrust my legs apart and pulled me to the edge of the bed so that our bodies were aligned. My robe fell open, my naked body revealed.

Should I confess I untied his robe? I did, my hands trembling as I saw his eyes watching them. His body, thus revealed, proved itself to be a masterpiece of masculine sculpture, albeit with several scars that look as if they caused him great pain. One ran from his thigh up to his hip and had it been several inches to the left - well he would not have had anything in the way of arousal.

Thank God that was not the case.

Royce is possessed of a magnificent set of attributes, as perfect as any statue of any ancient god. His muscles gleamed and I ran my hands over him, noticing how he responded by hardening even more as I did so.

He asked if his body pleased me. I simply looked at him, then knelt and took him into my mouth. How else could I truly answer his question?

He seemed content, resting his hand on the back of my head, guiding me sometimes, letting me find my own rhythm at others. His taste was salty sweet, musky, with a dash of the sandalwood soap he must use when bathing. I admit I enjoyed what I did to him, knowing he was enjoying it as well. A mutual pleasure, one might say.

However, even though at that time I assumed events would progress along the usual and customary lines, I found I was mistaken.

Instead of claiming me, Royce pulled free and looked at me. Then he asked if I would obey him…let him show me a different kind of pleasure.

I wasn’t sure how to respond, and he could see my uncertainty, because he smiled. And when Royce smiles that particular smile - I defy any woman to refuse him anything.

He lay me down, took away my robe and moved the candle close. Nude, I watched his eyes, feeling his fingers as he touched me, the lightest of caresses on places he must have known were already aroused and eager for his attentions.

He toyed and played, especially between my legs, encouraging me to part them, leaning toward them, even blowing cool air on my heated flesh, making me shiver. As I did so, he casually flicked a nipple, and I jumped. I think I also let out a little cry…the sweet pain was unexpected.

He seemed pleased and nodded his approval.

I expected him to come to me, then, since he was ready. A tiny bead of excitement sparkled in the candlelight. I was almost aching for him, and the flare of desire in my loins grew as his sensual strokes inflamed me.

He removed his robe and pulled something from one of the pockets. To my surprise, he showed me two beautiful green balls joined by a silver chain. They were so smooth—shiny, delicate things that he said were jade from the Orient.

Then he climbed over me and lay next to me on the bed. He told me that he wasn’t going to…in his words…fuck me. I was stunned, as you can well imagine. My first thought, the first word from my mouth was why. Why? Was I unappealing?

He laughed when I said that, shook his head and told me he wanted to play tonight. Fucking was too serious and we’d been serious all day. It was time for fun. I was somewhat reassured, but also confused. Which didn’t change when he rested the jade balls on my stomach and let them roll as they wished. The cool roundness was soothing but also exciting in an odd way, coupled with his kisses, which he shared generously with my breasts.

His teeth showed no hesitation in nibbling on me, my nipples were tugged, and almost bitten…he seemed to know how far to go without causing me pain. The balls drifted toward my thighs and he captured the slender chain, letting them roll down over my tender folds. They were cool, smooth - it was a very exciting