Miss Simpkins' School: Molly (2 page)

“Why?” he asked once he could speak without wincing.

“Because you stupid, imbecilic, moronic... Ah, well you are a man. It wasn’t bad; that is the problem. It makes me yearn for all I cannot have.” She sat down on a chair and sniffed inelegantly. Her eyes were red and puffy, and her hand shook. Charles saw only her inner beauty, and it took what little breath he had away.

“Why can’t you, love? We did once.”

Molly sighed. “Yes, and look what happened then. You were punished and sent away. I was shown the folly of my ways by your father. No, I learned my lesson. Gentry are not for the likes of me unless I’m flat on my back and paid for it. Never again. I was blessed to find Ash, and once that arrangement finished, to have his and Adriana’s protection and sponsorship. I won’t put you through any more...Ah...”

Charles shook her as her words sunk in. Both glasses flew into the air and showered them with the contents. “My father took you? Like a whore?” Red-hot rage filled him. If his father weren’t dead, he’d have killed him then and there.

Her head flopped like a rag doll and Charles stopped abruptly, appalled at his behavior. “Sweet Jesus, Molly, what have I become?” He lowered her back into the chair he’d half-hauled her out of, and picked up the glass she’d dropped on the floor. Charles took a deep, shuddering breath—lord he was doing that a lot lately—and noticed how his hand trembled.
That
was happening a lot as well. “Look at me. Trembling, acting like a thug, and no better than one.” He refilled her glass, and then handed it to her before doing the same for himself. “I apologize for my unmanly and unseemly behavior. I have no excuse except for red-hot rage and the desire to make myself an orphan if I wasn’t already one.” His voice was stiff, but even he heard the sincerity and sadness in it. So, it seemed, did Molly. Once again she put her glass down, and stood up, before taking his glass and setting it next to hers.

“Charles, you are neither a thug, nor ungentlemanly. Not even slightly. Now listen to me. Your father did not abuse me in a sexual way. He would have had his cock cut off with a rusty kitchen knife if he did. He used his own methods, and I won’t discuss them with you. It’s over, done, dusted, and if not forgotten, discarded as no longer of consequence. But we are who we are. I’m a teacher of sex and you are an upright gentleman of the—”

“Farming community. I’m a farmer, Molly, no more, no less. Nothing we do will impinge on anyone else. I’m not even Ashley’s heir now, thank the lord. I’m plain Charles Oakley, farmer of Countisberry.”

Molly rolled her eyes. “Do you know how much is wrong with that statement? First”—she held up one finger—”you are still a lord. Second, Countisberry is an estate not just a farm. Thirdly, you will never ever be plain anything. And fourth.” She rested her body against his, and put her arms around him. “Fourth, you are responsible for the welfare of many people and in no way will I allow you to jeopardize that. And it could. You know it could. Heaven help me, I’ve risen to semi-respectable, no more.”

For long seconds they stood together, chest-to-chest and cheek-to-cheek, then Molly stirred. “If ever there was a man I’d want to be with, Charles, it is you. But we both know it’s not possible, don’t we?”

“No.” Damn her, why couldn’t she see they could be together? Oh, it wouldn’t be easy, but then nothing worth fighting for was.

“We do. I do.” Molly kissed his cheek. “Dearest Charles, I have some very happy memories, and I want to keep them. If I was to discover what we experienced had made your life hard, it would sully them. Do you understand?”

“No.” If she could be obstinate then so could he. Charles slipped his hand between them and inched her skirts upward. Molly gave the most erotic moan ever and swayed into him. Emboldened, he let his fingers slide over the top of her stocking to stroke the soft skin of her thigh.

“Ah...” Molly parted her legs, and his fingers brushed against the wet, warm entrance to her channel. She clenched her muscles around him, and he slipped one finger inside. Molly sagged and it seemed only his arms held her upright, as she nipped his neck, and began to fiddle with his breeches. “Yes, I can not say no, it has to be yes.” She closed her eyes and sighed. The expelled air tickled his hairs, and sent goose bumps skittering down his spine.

“Yes,” he agreed with her and thrust two more fingers into her channel to tease and scrape the soft skin. His mind went cloudy. How on earth could he get them both naked without leaving her? He couldn’t. Invention would have to do.

Charles used his other hand to sweep her skirt and petticoats around her waist and tucked them in on themselves. Molly opened her eyes, and he stayed his hand. If she asked him to stop now it would nigh on kill him. She didn’t.

“If you carry on like this, my lord, I will climax very soon. I wish to enjoy all of you, not just your hand, if you please?” Her eyes were misty, her expression begged, and Charles’ cock quivered with anticipation. Molly lowered her gaze to where the material of his breeches stretched to its limits and smiled. “So it seems, may you.”

Charles laughed. “Oh, I please.” He scanned the room. “Will you be naked for me? Let me show you how it could be even though I accept you think it won’t?” Would she realize just how he’d worded his request? Of course she did.

“Clever, my lord. It will be only this once. But yes, if you will join me?”

“Then let’s start.” How trite his words sounded, but Charles was under no illusion about how strung up they both were. He wanted no premature ejaculation, even though he was sure he could persuade her to change her mind afterward. He began to undo the tiny covered buttons that stretched from the nape of her neck to the base of her spine.

“Lud, woman, these are killing me. My cock is ready to snap in half. Who on earth designs a dress like this?”

“Madame Losange, and it is designed to torture, tease, and tantalize. Even if we have no intention of using our wiles on a man, we dress as if we do. A woman needs all the help she can get.”

Charles reached the last fastening and slipped it from through the loop that held it in place. “You need no help, love.”

He drew the dress down her body, to bare the elegant column of her spine inch by inch. Molly gasped and spun round to face him. As her dress slithered off her body to pool in a heap of vibrant crimson and gold around her ankles, she lifted her face to run a series of tiny teasing nips across his cheeks

“Now it’s my turn.” With tantalizing slowness she began to undo his cravat.

Chapter Three

Molly breathed a sigh of relief as Charles let her spin in his arms and present her front to him. Oh she wanted to undress him, and fast, but equally she didn’t want him to see her lower back and arse. Some things were best left alone.

She took hold of both ends of the long strip of linen that was wound around Charles’ neck and slid it through her fingers. “Do you know how arousing it is to unwind a cravat? Even though you know that it’s just a piece of material tied in a specific way that covers a man’s neck. To find each inch spreads out in your hands and slides down your man’s body toward his cock. The more you unwrap the more he is on view, until at last...” She let the final foot of cloth caress the rear of his neck as she pulled it back and forth.

“Why, at last you can do this.” Molly tugged at the material with both hands to nudge Charles toward her. His head dipped and she laughed in triumph. “Oh no, not yet. It’s my turn to tease. How lucky you have buttons on your shirt and no waistcoat to get in the way.”

Charles swallowed hard, and Molly stared at the way his Adam’s apple rippled the skin of his throat. Such a little thing, but enough to make her mouth dry knowing she had caused it. “You see, a man’s body,
the
man’s body, is all a woman,
his
woman ever wants. To see the tell tale signs she has aroused him. The way his eyes light up or go cloudy. To watch as he swallows and groans as she does this.” Molly slipped her fingers under the fastenings of his shirt and made short work of undoing them. With each tie she opened she swirled her fingers over the hair that hid his chest. When his nipples were revealed, Molly leaned in and kissed each one in turn. “To feel those nubs harden and wonder if the sting flies to his cock in the same manner his touch sends messages to her clit,” she said in a soft, sultry tone. “All of this turns her on and makes her skin heat and her core melt.”

She jerked his coat down his arms and with a wicked laugh left his hands imprisoned by the cloth. “To have him, even for such a short time, at her mercy, and know he can’t stop her if she does this.” Molly pulled the waist of his pantaloons down and released his cock, only to take it in her mouth and suck. The groan from Charles emboldened her and she laughed softly around his cock.

“I need to be in you, love,” he all but begged her. Molly couldn’t help but be pleased at the thrill his attitude gave her. Petty and small minded maybe, however she decided it was a peculiar satisfaction when you reduced someone to that state for the best of all reasons...arousal. “Not your mouth. I want your cunt. Please.”

She needed it as well. How long had it been since she’d felt so carefree? Her heart was light, and their sex so enjoyable that Molly couldn’t resist grazing her teeth along his length. His breath hissed out of him and somehow he managed to get hold of her hair, and pulled hard enough for tears to sting her eyes.

“On the chaise, naked, now.” He barked the words and Molly let his cock slide out of her mouth with a gentle pop. When had he become so dominant?

She liked it. In their youth they had explored each other, discovered what they liked together, and shared the highs. Sadly though, not the lows. Now, it seemed Charles knew what he liked and how to get it. He tugged her hair once more and she moved closer to avoid the extra pain. How on earth had he managed? She glanced at his hands to see he’d edged one arm out of his coat. His chest hair scratched the sensitive skin of her breasts. It was pleasurable, not painful and she wriggled to extend the feeling.

“Molly.” His voice held a wealth of warning. “If you don’t want to be spanked so hard you won’t sit easy for a week, get over to the chaise now. I’m so hot and ready for you. I’ve waited longer than I dare contemplate for this. I don’t want to wait a minute more.”

Nor did she. A spanking for pleasure was one thing. She’d like that, and had done it in the past. For punishment? Molly wasn’t so sure. Her only other lover had been somewhat more inventive with his punishments, although now wasn’t the time to think of them or him. Or to give Charles more time to decide how and what else she deserved. After all, she was the one who changed her mind and thus gave them this chance, so in no way could she spoil it.

With what she hoped was elegant haste, but more likely an unseemly scramble, she backed away from him until the edge of the chaise bumped her legs. Molly sat down with a force that jiggled her breasts, and made Charles run his tongue over his lips. She twisted and stretched along the cushioned length, glad whoever decorated the folly had thought the soft seating necessary. The chaise was wide, more like a day bed than a settee, and would easily let Charles fit beside her.

She stared over to where he was kicking off his breeches with little or no thought for just how creased they would become. Not that her gown would be a lot better. They had both scuffled through that in their erotic moving around.

Charles picked up a flute of champagne and made his way toward her. Apart from the cravat still draped loosely around his neck, he stood as naked as the day he was born. The late afternoon sun shining through the window caught the hairs on his body and illuminated them like spun silk in its rays. The gleam in his eye shouted
predator
and his loose-limbed walk stalked her. If he were a snake she would be the one held in its thrall, and easy prey.

Her stomach churned in the way it always did when she was excited. Not in a sick, spider-crawling way, but in a dancing emotional manner. Her skin so sensitive a butterfly’s wings would send goosebumps all over it as they stirred the air nearby. How long had she yearned for this?

He handed her a glass and waited while she took a sip, and then held his hand out to take it from her. Puzzled, Molly gave it to him, and watched as he drank from the same place as her before putting it out of arm—or leg reach.

“We’ve wasted enough. Give me your wrists.”

She mistrusted the gleam in his eyes and the smile on his face. Not in an apprehensive way, because there was no malice in his expression. More a full on, sensual, wicked, “guess what’s going to happen next” way. Her juices collected at the neck of her womb and nigh on gushed out of her. With more haste than finesse, Molly held her arms out.

“Good girl.”

Girl? He has hit his head perchance? I haven’t been a girl for nigh on twenty years.
Molly decided she liked it though. The warm look he gave her hinted of all things delicious, and the way he jerked the cravat up over his head before he brought it down and wrapped it round her wrists twice made her shiver in anticipation.

“Do you trust me, Molly? Trust me to give you everything you want and need? For it’s many a year since we were intimate and times change. We have changed and you have no way of knowing who I now am, nor what I have become, other than by second hand knowledge.” Charles spoke in a serious manner as he knotted the cloth around her wrists and left two long ends dangling.

“Isn’t that the same thing, want and need?” She ignored the second half of his pronouncement and honed in on the first.

“Oh no, not by a long shot. You know what you want. I know what you need. Believe me, they are not synonymous.
Do
you trust me?”

Molly gulped. His face was serious, his voice calm, and only a very faint tremor in his hand showed how he was affected and how much rested on her answer. He was only partially right in his surmise though. Ash had talked about him both during and after their long liaison. Ashley knew Molly and Charles had been close friends, found out how close when he and Molly first came together, and had taken pains to keep her up to date about Charles’ solitary life. The only thing he hadn’t mentioned had been Miranda. That had been a shock, but it mattered not. She would trust Charles as implicitly as she trusted Ash.