Dealing With Discipline (12 page)

"It's called many things," Hugh said, pulling
his lower body away from hers and sliding off to his side.
 The look of disappointment on her face had him pulling her
body into his - although he would have done so anyway.  To his
delight she snuggled into him, her head resting on his shoulder.
 "Making love, coupling, bedding, fucking, sex... but we make
love."

"Oh."  Irene thought about it
and she decided that she liked that term.  Making love. The
other terms didn't seem nearly as intimate or as important, and
'marital act' felt rather clinical and removed, compared to what
she had just experienced.  

Kissing her on her forehead, Hugh
decided to let her think that over for a moment. "Stay right here
sweetheart, I'm going to get a cloth to clean you up."

It was only as he pulled away and went to the
washstand then that Irene realized there was a damp stickiness
between her legs and that her nightrail was still hiked up around
her waist.  Blushing furiously she pulled the flimsy material
down, although Hugh just pushed it back up again to gently wash off
the fluids from her most intimate areas.  Closing her eyes,
Irene was too embarrassed to look at him as he did so, especially
after the brief glimpse she caught of his enthralled expression.
 It made her feel all quivery inside all over
again. 

When he went back to the washstand she took
the opportunity to peek at his backside.  She didn't know what
constituted a nice backside, but she rather thought that Hugh's
must be one.  It certainly looked nice to her, although she
looked away quickly enough when he turned back around again.
 The appendage between his legs - his cock - had shrunk to a
much smaller size.  It hung in front of him, swaying gently as
he walked. 

Crawling back into bed beside her, Hugh
gathered her into his arms and Irene found herself curling back
against him.  It felt nice to be held, to be wanted.
 Something about the way Hugh handled her made her feel rather
cherished and she soaked up the affection the way a sponge soaked
up water.  

Considering the rather full day she'd had it
was no surprise that almost as soon as Irene closed her eyes, sleep
sucked her under.

Rather bemused at the intensity of their
love-making and Irene's reaction to it, Hugh lay stroking his new
wife's hair as she slept.  She felt so small and sweet next to
him and her hidden passion was everything he could have hoped for
and more.  From talk in the clubs he knew that a wedding night
was not always a great experience, not just for the lady but for
the gentleman as well.  He was relieved not to have had to
suffer through pleas, tears or any kind of resistance.
 Indeed, Irene had rather melted into his arms and now she was
curled so trustingly within them that it made his heart ache.
 He smiled happily, secure in the knowledge that he'd married
a woman more like his mother than his sister.

Yes, he could quite easily fall in love with
his new wife. 

*******

When Irene woke in the middle of
the night it took her a moment to orient herself.  She was
almost frightened for a moment, realizing immediately that she
wasn’t in her own bed, before she remembered that she was in Hugh's
- their - bedroom.  Because she was a wife.  A
woman. 

As evidenced by the slight dampness that
remained between her legs and the soreness of her muscles as she
moved.  Muscles that she hadn't even known existed until
now. 

But it had felt wonderful, she thought with a
touch of awe, turning onto her side and cuddling a pillow to her
chest.  Hugh was not in bed with her and she dimly remembered
him kissing her forehead and telling her to keep sleeping.  A
little smile wreathed her face at the memory of his affection
although she wistfully thought that she might have preferred him to
stay in bed with her.

How strange to know that yesterday she had
been a bride and today she was a wife.

A sudden chill shot through her
spine. 

Not just
a
wife.
Hugh's
wife.  She was
Viscountess Petersham, not Lady Brooke as she'd always dreamed of
being.  For a moment she felt completely disoriented, as if
she'd stepped into a dream world that had completely turned her
world on its head. 

Horrified, she realized that
last night she had not only forgotten her determination to learn
about the marriage act in order to please Alex, she had forgotten
about
Alex himself.
  Not once had she thought about him once she'd entered
the room and faced Hugh.  Not once had he appeared in her
thoughts.

Perhaps that was only right
as she shouldn't be thinking of another man while making love with
her husband... but she didn't actually
love
 her husband.  How
could she have forgotten that last night?  How could she have
found such pleasure in the act with him, rather than the pain and
indignities that her mother had spoken of, when she was in love
with another man?  

And she'd woken up so happy, without a thought
of Alex in her mind at all.

Sitting straight up in the bed, Irene stared
down at her body as though it belonged to someone else, her heart
thudding wildly in complete confusion.

What had Hugh done to her?

The soft noise beside her reminded
her that she wasn’t alone. There wasn’t enough light in the room
for her to see Hugh, although when she tried to look at him she had
a dim impression of golden hair and the outline of his profile.
Biting her lip, she reached out and touched him. His skin was hot.
Soft. It reminded her of how it had felt to have him on top of her,
their skin rubbing against each other.

Sighing she laid back down on her
back and tried to sort through her conflicting emotions. Hugh
shifted and cuddled her closer, murmuring nonsensical nothings in
his sleep as he curled around her. Surprisingly, it didn’t take too
long for her to nestle into him, her nose rubbing up against his
chest hair, and fall asleep.

Chapter 6

Waking up next to his wife was even
better than Hugh had ever expected.  Irene was soft and sweet
in his arms, snuggled up with her bottom pressing against his
groin, the filmy material of her nightgown bunched up around her
waist, strands of her red hair tickling his face.  Her
response to him on their wedding night had been innocently
passionate, something that he had found incredibly
arousing. 

Indeed, he was already lustfully hard,
his cock wedged between the ample mounds of her buttocks, hard and
aching to be firmly planted inside of her.  He congratulated
himself on securing her agreement to a single bedchamber.  It
was not the norm within the ton, but he'd always enjoyed having a
woman beside him when he awoke in the morning, and to him having a
wife just meant that he would always enjoy that
benefit. 

And what a wonderful woman he'd chosen
to wake beside every morning. 

Rocking his hips slightly, Hugh moaned
a little as he slid his hand up her smooth stomach to cup a breast.
 He'd been so amused by her insistence that she keep her
nightrail on last night; it had been another token of her
innocence, as well as adding a kind of illicit thrill to the
proceedings.  One which was returning as he fondled her in her
sleep, feeling her stir against him, her breath stuttering out as
he squeezed her soft flesh. 

With a grin on his face, Hugh decided
to awaken his bride.

******

When Irene had fallen asleep after
waking for the first time she had been rather troubled, unsure of
what to do as Hugh had curled beside her, taking her into his arms.
 In many ways she felt as if her body had betrayed her - not
just her body but her mind.  She couldn't help but feel a
certain tenderness towards Hugh, although she told herself that was
only natural now that they were man and wife.  

The relentless turmoil of her thoughts
had kept her up far past the time when Hugh had fallen asleep
beside her.  It was strange to sleep in the same bad as
another person, especially a man and she had found herself almost
wishing that there was light enough to see him by so that she might
examine him more closely.  Curiosity had always been one of
her besetting sins.  She had to wonder, would Alex look the
same?  Would he touch her in the same way?  Bring her to
the same kind of pleasure?  And of course she was still rather
confused about the marital act - making love - itself.  It was
so unlike what her mother had described. 

Eventually she had fallen into a
troubled sleep that had become quite deep by the time that Hugh
awoke.  She was completely unaware of her nightrail being
pulled up to expose her breasts, of her husband's low groan at the
unobscured sight of her strawberry nipples, although her body felt
and responded to his mouth as he sucked one hardening bud between
his lips.  The dream she had been having about wandering
through a maze abruptly shifted as a nameless man was suddenly
fondling her intimately, bearing her down to the grassy floor of
the maze.

Alex,
she tried to say, thinking that it must be
him. 

Her body caught on fire in a way that
she had never associated with him before and she gasped in shock as
her legs were pressed apart.  Lips suckled at her breast,
fingers plucking at her free nipple as she moaned and writhed,
eager for the explosive climax that she had only recently
discovered.  

For a moment her body
shifted and she frowned.  
Hugh.
  She had discovered that
bliss with Hugh, not with Alex.  Alex had never made her blood
run hot or her lungs collapse; Alex was safety and warmth, Hugh was
sparking flame and a fluttering in her stomach.  The man in
the dream lifted his head from her breast and she saw his golden
hair, his azure eyes blazing for her. 

Hugh.

The most exquisite sensation speared
through her core and she cried out, waking herself up to find that
her dream had become reality.  Except that Hugh's angelic
countenance was not hovering over her the way he had been in the
dream, it was buried between her legs with his mouth intimately
connected to her body.

"Oh! - Don't!"  She gasped and
her body jerked as his tongue probed her sensitive folds.
 

Her hands moved down to
push him away but instead her fingers caught in his hair and she
found herself pulling his head into her, as if urging him to
continue in the unnatural act.  Everything inside of her said
that he should not be touching her... kissing her
there.
  Yet it felt
so unbelievably good that she was melting underneath the skillful
laving of his tongue, her body quivering like a harp string as he
continued to lick and suck on her womanly parts. 

"Huuuugh..." His name came out as a
moan as her legs moved fitfully, her body screaming for the relief
that she'd experienced the night before.

But surely this wouldn't... surely she
couldn't...

Before she could truly understand what
was happening, she already was. 

The heat and pleasure burst forth as
Hugh sucked some incredibly sensitive part of her between his lips;
the tingling ecstasy rippling outwards from that area between her
legs. 

Watching Irene come apart for him, her
sweetness on his lips and her mostly bared body writhing, was the
most incredible thing Hugh had ever seen.  She had woken up so
hot, so imbued with passion, that she hadn't even noticed that her
entire body was lying exposed to his eyes, that her breasts were
free and jiggling with every movement that she made.  In the
light of day she was even more beautiful and he found himself
rather satisfied with his first sight of her naked body being the
morning after their wedding day.  

As her throaty cries of completion
came to an end he pulled himself up onto his knees and wrapped his
hand around his cock, jerking it roughly and quickly.  It only
took a few moments before his seed shot forth and landed on her
coppery curls and the swollen pink lips of her cunt purse,
decorating her with swathes of white fluid.  Blinking up at
him through confused and passion hazed green eyes, Irene
almost looked like a virgin sacrifice - especially with the
speckled red of her lost virginity staining the sheets beside her
where she’d lost it the night before.

"Hugh?" she asked in an unsteady voice
as he panted, his member slowly shrinking in his hand now that it
had been spent.  While he would have liked to have finished
inside of her, he hadn’t wanted to hurt her and he wasn’t sure how
sore she would be this morning.

He smiled at her gently.  "Good
morning sweetheart."

"What just happened?"  Looking
down at herself, Irene was rather shocked by the stark white sticky
fluid that was on the copper curls covering her mound.
 Blushing hot red all over again, she quickly tugged down her
nightrail over her breasts and hips, sitting up as she drew her
legs upwards.

Chuckling as this repeated show of
modesty, Hugh went to dampen another cloth and brought it back to
clean her with as he explained.  "That was part of making love
sweetheart.  At least it can be.  It's a way that a man
can bring pleasure to a woman.  I didn't want to really make
love to you again because you're going to be a bit sore today after
losing your maidenhead and you need time to recover but," he smiled
ruefully.  "I just can't seem to keep my hands off of
you."