Sinful Seduction (8 page)

For a moment she stiffened as he pressed his way through her maidenhead, then relaxed again as the momentary pain turned to waves of pleasure and she felt the full length of him filling her. He began to move again, gently at first, then harder, withdrawing then pushing forward, deeper than ever. She wound her legs round his thighs and raised her hips to meet each thrust with one of her own, until they were rocking together, faster and faster.

Maggie shrieked with pleasure and release as he gave one last thrust and she felt him shudder, his face twisting as he jerked and spasmed - then he was sagging against her, passion spent.

They lay entwined on the settee, gradually recovering their senses. When he finally lifted himself from her, and began to dress, Maggie sighed again - this time with shame. What would he think of her now? She'd given herself to him like a cheap slut.

She sat up and swung her legs round, wincing at the throbbing pain between her thighs, then blushed with shame as she caught sight of the small patch of blood on the settee. She reached for her handkerchief to wipe it away before he saw it, but she was too slow. She turned scarlet and avoided his eyes as he stopped dressing and looked at her bowed head.

‘What is it?' he asked. ‘What's wrong?' And then he saw the blood and realised what it meant.

Taking her under the chin he turned her to face him again. ‘There's nothing to be ashamed of,' he said softly. ‘You gave me the greatest gift a woman could give a man. Thank you.' He smiled. ‘And next time it will be easier for you.'

Relief washed through her. He didn't despise her after all, and he wasn't just going to use and cast her away. There was going to be a ‘next time'! Her heart was singing as she dressed and even the waiter's knowing looks when he brought the bill - or Mrs Hardcastle's scolding when she finally got home - didn't upset her.

In bed beside Emily's sleeping body Maggie savoured every smile and word and touch all over again. Her last thought before she drifted off to sleep was that she must be mad to get involved with the master's son - but oh, what a glorious madness it was!

 

The next ten weeks were the happiest in Maggie's life. Even Lady Georgina's constant carping and criticism couldn't dent the bubble of contentment in which she floated through her days, buoyed up by secret touches and glances and kisses stolen in dark passageways.

She and Jeremy grasped every opportunity to make love again and again, sneaking down to the library when the rest of the household was asleep, to indulge their passion in fleeting moments of exquisite pleasure. Twice more on her monthly half-day they met to walk in the park, go to the music hall - and slake their appetites in ‘their' little room above the oyster bar - and she returned home, her body aching pleasurably from Jeremy's attentions.

But all too soon his leave was up, and instead of sharing one last night together, Maggie found herself pressed into dancing attendance at his farewell dance. Biting her lip she stood against the wall of the ballroom, watching as he waltzed with the simpering daughters of his mother's friends and, even worse, being forced to listen as the older women speculated on which one he would eventually choose as his bride. It wasn't fair!

Lady Georgina glanced in her direction and clicked her fingers. ‘Fetch my Kashmir shawl from the bedroom, girl - and don't dally.' Maggie bobbed a curtsey and hurried off, glad of an excuse to leave.

The shawl was tossed carelessly over Lady Georgina's bed, and Maggie picked it up, enjoying the smooth feel of the rich, silky material. On impulse she flung it over her own shoulders and admired her reflection in the mirror. She could still hear strains of music from the ballroom below, so humming, she closed her eyes and danced a few light steps, twirling round so that the shawl flared out around her in a billow of colour - and came to an abrupt stop as she collided with someone. Her eyes opened in dismay, but she found herself looking up at Master Jeremy.

‘Wh-what are you doing here?' she demanded. ‘You should be down in the ballroom. What if anyone notices you're missing?'

‘Let them,' he snorted. ‘Even a gentleman's got to use the necessary sometimes, hasn't he?' He chuckled. ‘Not that any of those prim little misses would ever dream of admitting it; for all they know a man could be made of wood from the waist down. Now, you on the other hand...' He pulled her into his arms, kissed her, and she could feel his thick rod pressing against her belly.

For a moment she weakened and allowed him to urge her towards his mother's bed, then she came to her senses and pushed him away. ‘I daren't!' she gasped. ‘You mother is waiting for her shawl. I must go.' Ripping it from her shoulders she flung it over her arm and fled towards the door, but he caught her arm and pulled her round to face him again.

‘The library?' he said urgently. ‘Once everyone has gone?'

She stared at him, thinking of all the work that would have to be done before she could get away, and then made up her mind. This would be the last time they'd have together for who knew how long? Perhaps forever if his next posting was a dangerous one. ‘All right,' she agreed. ‘But I won't be able to get away until all my work's done.'

‘I'll wait for you,' he said, and kissed her gently. ‘Till the crack of dawn if needs be.'

It almost was. The last guest's carriage drew away at two in the morning and Maggie had to help Lady Georgina from her dress, hang up her clothes ready to be attended to first thing in the morning, help her into her nightgown and brush her hair, then fetch her hot milk and a plate of biscuits before she could finally escape.

Back in the kitchen it was chaos. Pile upon pile of dirty plates and glasses covered every available surface and the tweenie was in tears of exhaustion as she stood at the sink trying to wash them in the lukewarm, scummy water. Mrs McAlister thrust a cloth into Maggie's hands and pressed her into service drying and putting away.

By the time order was restored, Maggie's eyes were gritty with tiredness and her feet ached from being on them non-stop since six the previous morning. When they were finally allowed to stagger gratefully off to their bedroom, Emily hauled off her boots, crawled beneath the sheets fully dressed and was asleep in seconds.

Maggie's first inclination was to follow suit; every bone in her body ached with exhaustion. But instead she slipped out of her clothes and into her best nightgown, and brushed her hair. ‘Emily... Emily... are you awake?' she hissed, and the only response was a gentle snore.

Picking up the candle she slowly opened the door, careful that it didn't creak, and slipped out into the passageway and down the wooden stairs. In the main hallway she held her breath and listened. Nothing. Not even the sound of a mouse scuttling behind the panelling. The flickering light of her candle illuminated the features of a family portrait, glaring disapprovingly down on her and she jumped, and then stifled a nervous giggle; it looked far too much like Lady Georgina for her liking!

Tiptoeing along the corridor she pushed open the library door, and her heart sank as she peered around the room. It was empty. The dull remnants of the fire still glowed in the hearth, barely illuminating shelf upon shelf of leather-bound books. A single guttering candle still sat on the little wine table beside a half empty brandy glass - but there was no sign of Jeremy.

A sigh of disappointment escaped her lips - so much for all his protestations of undying love. Their last night together and he hadn't even bothered to wait for her. ‘Oh Jeremy,' she whispered. ‘How could you...?'

Maggie froze at the sound of movement, and then, as if her words had conjured him up, he leaned forward from the concealing depths of the high-backed chair in front of the fire and smiled at her sleepily. ‘Sorry, m'dear,' he yawned. ‘Must have dozed off.' Then his eyes widened at the sight of her, barefoot and wearing only her thin nightgown, and the expression of sleepiness vanished to be replaced by one of eagerness. In one panther-like movement he was out of the chair and across the room.

‘I don't think we need this,' he said, removing the candlestick from her trembling fingers and placing it on the library table. The halo of light it cast shone though the flimsy material of her nightgown, revealing every curve of her body, and suddenly he was trembling as well.

He kissed her and fumbled with the row of buttons at her neck. Once they were undone he thrust a hand inside, savouring the soft fullness of her breasts, feeling the tips rise and harden against his palm as he cradled each in turn. She gasped as his thumb found them, circling and gently teasing them into even greater hardness, then he was tugging the nightgown over her head, it fell in a discarded heap and she stood naked before him.

For a moment he admired her in silence, then his fingers traced a path down her body, over her breasts and the curve of her stomach to the secret place at the V of her quivering thighs. He parted the soft hair and explored the hidden wetness, and then he moaned and pulled her against him. His other hand slid round her waist, then down over the smooth swell of her buttocks, pulling her even more tightly against him. Whimpering as she felt the length of his pole pressed against her belly, she writhed against him, aching to feel it inside her, but he pushed her gently away and began to fumble with his own clothing. Naked, he pulled her back against him and urged her towards the leather chesterfield in the corner of the room, where they toppled in a tangle of limbs.

For a long moment his hands explored every curve of her body, revelling in her instant response, then, with a groan, he rolled on his back, his rampant cock jutting in the air. She stroked the long silken length of him, her fingers trembling at his size and stiffness, then with a whimper of pleasure she straddled him and lowered herself, groaning as the massive head pushed its way into her. She sank lower, feeling him slide deep inside, impaling her like a butterfly on a pin.

He reached up, his hands finding her breasts, kneading the soft mounds, rolling the stiff nipples between his fingers. She groaned again, leaning forward so that the quivering globes hung like ripe fruit above his lips. He squeezed them together so that his tongue could dart from one swollen bud to the other and she groaned again.

It was too much, despite her urge to prolong the delicious sensations coursing through her she reared up, threw her head back and began to ride him, raising herself up until only the tip of his cock was inside her, then plunging down again, relishing the feeling as his thick shaft slid in and out between the clutching lips of her pussy.

He shuddered with pleasure, gripping her hips to pull her harder down on him, his own hips bucking as he thrust deeper into her hot wetness. As her climax approached her mouth opened to release a wail of satisfaction - then she suddenly froze.

‘Wh-what was that?' she gasped, her hands flying to cover her breasts.

‘What?' he demanded, irritated at the sudden interruption of their pleasure.

‘I thought I heard someone,' she whispered, her eyes frantically scanning the dimly lit library. But there was nothing - only the flame of the dying candle flickering on the bookshelves.

‘Don't be silly, my love,' he laughed softly. ‘There's no one else awake. It was only the fire settling.' He tweaked one nipple playfully. ‘Now, where were we?'

Maggie quietly laughed too, and then drew in her breath as the movement made his erection quiver inside her. She began to move again, deliberately teasing as she rode him slowly, then her own passion overwhelmed her and she moved faster and faster, his prick slippery with her juices. With a groan he began to come, and she shrieked as the head of his cock swelled and pulsed, spilling his seed inside her. With a final groan she collapsed on top of him, spent, and lay against his chest trying to regain her breath, his hand gently stroking her perspiring flanks.

All too soon it was time to go. If they lay much longer the household would be stirring and their secret would be discovered. Reluctantly she pulled herself away and stood up, feeling the warmth of his seed on her inner thighs. He smiled up at her from heavy-lidded eyes before stretching his long limbs and sitting up too.

Feeling suddenly awkward she retrieved her discarded nightgown and tugged it over her head. ‘Better go,' she muttered. ‘I could lose my place if I was caught.'

‘One last kiss,' he said, pulling her against him. ‘I go back to my regiment tomorrow and heaven knows the next time I'll see a pretty girl again.' His mouth came down on hers and again she felt the familiar stirring of lust. Gasping, she pushed him away, grabbed her battered tin candlestick and fled.

There was no need of the candle, for the dim light of dawn was already beginning to filter through the windows as she hurried back to her room. With a sigh of relief she slipped quickly in beside the still-snoring Emily, and despite the thoughts racing through her brain, within moments had drifted into an exhausted sleep.

 

‘Wha-what...?' Maggie spluttered as cold water splashed on her face and trickled down her neck. ‘Stop it!'

‘Come on, sleepyhead,' grinned Emily, reaching into the ewer for another handful. ‘Wake up.' She waved her dripping fingers threateningly. ‘Get a bloody move on, gel! If you're not downstairs in five minutes Mrs H'll have the skin off your back.' She snorted. ‘Lying there like bleeding Sleeping Beauty. Come on, there's work to be done.' Whistling cheerfully she left, banging the door behind her.