Regency Romance: An Intriguing Invitation (Historical Billionaire Military Romance) (19th Century Victorian Romance) (77 page)

“Touch me,” Annabelle whispered in the darkness, the only light was blue, from a full moon and streaming in through that open window.

The Duke didn’t speak, but he complied, his lips still locked around one nipple. He ran the pad of his index finger up the wet pink lips between the young woman’s legs. He didn’t penetrate her, he just ran it up and then down her slit. Annabelle groaned, and she widened her legs, and when he looked up, tearing his mouth away from her breast she was looking at him, her eyes begging him to make love to her.

“Do it,” she said in a breathless voice. “Do it.”

He would oblige the young woman. He rocked back away from her, standing at the edge of the bed. She watched him, her eyes going from his face to his trousers as he
undid
them lowered them to his ankles. His cock was pulsing before him, red and big and yearning for her tight womanhood.

Bertram used his hands to push Anna’s knees further apart, and then he was back on the bed, kneeling before her. Annabelle lifted herself up onto her elbows so she could look down and see herself. Her womanly lips were slick with her own juices, just below a curly tuft of pubic hair.

Bertram touched her there once more, using his fingers to spread her lips wide as his other hand guided his penis towards her. The swollen head of his cock pushed against her, moving up and down her slick lips. And then he was going inside her, and it was all the young woman could do not to yell out in pleasure.

“I’ve never felt tighter,” Bertram gasped as he pushed further into her, the head of his cock disappearing completely, and then his shaft sliding in. He fell forward, on top of her, his hands holding himself up, and their lips were clashing sloppily together, their passion overtaking them.

Anna ran her hands along the man’s back, pulling his shirt up so her nails could drag across his muscular back. His cock was sliding in and out of her in a furious pace. There was love making, and there was something else, and what she and the Duke were doing was decidedly something else.

One hand continued to hold himself up, and the other groped at her breasts, even as their tongues danced together.

“Oh, God,” Annabelle groaned into the man’s mouth. Something she had not felt before was growing in her loins, deep within her. It was a feeling that she could hardly bear, it felt so good. It was a growing sensation, hot between her thighs, in the pit of her stomach. An orgasm rocked her body, and then she was crying out, so loudly that the Duke laughed and covered her mouth with his hand, so no one would think a woman was being attacked and come searching upstairs.

Her body quaked, and spasms tore through her inner walls, the sensation on Bertram’s cock as her vagina squeezed him unlike anything he had felt with any other woman. It was almost too much, but he didn’t want the feeling to end, he wasn’t ready to finish, so he fought off his own orgasm.

He kissed her once more, and then he pulled out of her and the girl let a look of worry flash across her face. “Is that all? Did I do something wrong?”

Bertram grinned and shook his head.

“No my love, nothing wrong at all.”

And then his strong hands were on her waist, and he was moving her, rolling her over. He tugged on her waist so she went onto her hands and knees, and he positioned himself behind her, and once more he was sliding inside of her tight, wet pussy.

His rough hands were on the cheeks of her rear, squeezing and gripping almost painfully, but Annabelle never wanted him to stop. He pumped in and out of her at a furious pace, the sound of her rear and his pelvis making an audible slapping sound each time he pushed into her.

He couldn’t hold off for long, her womanhood was too tight, the sex too good. He felt himself nearing climax, and he had the mind to pull out just as he came. The Duke gripped his own cock and jerked his hand back and forth, spraying thick strands of semen over the girl’s plump, pale ass. She lay down on her stomach as he did so, breathing heavily. Their bodies were slick with sweat, which shone in the moonlight.

“I can’t go back down there,” she said softly, and the Duke laughed as he moved to lay next to her.

“Take a moment, they’ll never know,” he said.

“You ripped my small clothes.”

“Well, don’t make love with anyone else, and they won’t know you aren’t wearing any,” he said with a wink.

“That’s what you call that? Making love?” Annabelle asked.

“What would you call it?” Bertram asked.

“Being used,” Annabelle said with a grin to the man. “But I enjoyed it.”

“Marry me my sweet lady. Marry me, and I will use you often.”

Annabelle began to laugh. “I should return.”

“Are you going to speak with Duke Blackburn?”

Annabelle nodded. “Does that bother you?”

“No. He may speak to you. With his words or with his manhood. If anything, I am confident that my cock can speak better than any man’s.”

Annabelle smiled as she stood up. She kept her skirt hiked above her hips as she bent to retrieve her torn small clothes. She wiped his semen off of her bottom with the small clothes, and then dropped them back to the floor. Certainly some servant was in for surprise on the next morrow.

“I like your confidence, Bertram,” the young girl said.

“And I like you and your body,” the Duke said, shocking Annabelle and making her blush.

They worked
in silence
to make themselves presentable, and then she left first to return to the party. Bertram would wait a few moments and then follow her down.

Chapter 5

Annabelle found Duke Blackburn dancing with another young woman and so she waited in his line of view until the dance had finished. She was glad when he dismissed the other woman and approached her.

“Would you care to dance?” the man asked her.

“I would rather speak with you,” Annabelle said.

“Very well. How about a stroll through the garden, if it would not make you too cold?”

“Yes,” Anna said, nodding.

The air was chill, but the Duke gave her his jacket, and it was a nice stroll. The garden on the grounds was beautiful and secluded, and they were the only ones walking in it, except for Mrs. Clack 20 paces behind them. They found a bench near a fountain and sat. Anna expected the Duke to ask her for a kiss and she was quite dismayed when he did not.

“Why do you want to marry me?” Annabelle said as they looked at one another. “I fear you do not find me beautiful.”

Duke Blackburn laughed. “Who says I don’t find you beautiful?”

“Duke Sutherland was quite forward with his compliments.”

“I want a
many great
things from you,” Duke Blackburn said. “You are beautiful, and I desire you greatly, but I am slightly older than Duke Sutherland, and I must confess that I’ve
learned,
desire often grows with love.”

“You desire me?”

“I do.”

“I’m yours, if you’ll take me.”

“And I would. But I want you on our wedding night, and not a moment before. But I will give you something of me,” he added, and they leaned together and kissed. Where Bertram was rough and passionate, Duke Blackburn was soft and tender. There was still passion there, but the kiss was electrifying in a way the other man’s wasn’t. He felt as though he was holding back, and it made Annabelle want him even more. When he broke away she leaned forward, stealing one more kiss.

“Please,” she said after planting her lips on his but then breaking it again. “I want you to want me.”

“I do,” the Duke said in a whisper. His voice brushed her ears sensually. She could feel his desire, and she put a hand on his leg, and her fingertips could sense the bulge at his crotch.

“Take me.”

“I will. If we are married.”

“You’re saving yourself for marriage?” the young woman asked.

“I am not. I am saving you for marriage,” he said.

Annabelle had never wanted anything more in her life. She desired him, wanted him to tear her clothes off, to make love to her under the moon. She knew he would make love to her. Bertram had fucked her. Duke Blackburn would not do that. His hands would be soft, electric like his kisses.

“Take me,” Annabelle said again.

“Marry me.”

Anna began to feel frustrated. She had just had a man inside her, but here she was, her loins screaming for Duke Blackburn, and he would not give in to her. It drove her wild.

“Please,” she begged.

“Marry me,” he said again.

Anna stood up and huffed. She spun on the man. “You are pig headed!” she said, suddenly angry, unable to think clearly. She wanted the man inside her so badly.

Duke Blackburn laughed, which made her even madder, and she spun and rushed for the manor.

She went upstairs, wishing to be alone, and found another room, drawing room of sorts with a balcony. She went outside and stood in the breeze. She still had Duke Blackburn’s jacket around her shoulders, and she held it around her.

“There you are,” a voice said, and she turned to see Bertram.

“I do not wish to speak,” she said.

“Things did not go well with Duke Blackburn? Then I am the winner, am I not?”

Annabelle narrowed her eyes. “No, you are not. I enjoyed what we did, and I will never regret it, as long as I live. But to you, I am just another warm woman in a cold bed, am I not? You will never stop doing what you do, and I don’t think I wish to be a wife who sits at home alone, while another woman warms you.”

“That’s not fair,” Bertram started.

“Goodnight, Duke Sutherland,” Annabelle said shortly, and the man knew not to argue. He left, and she turned to gaze out at the grounds again.

She never heard Duke Blackburn sneak up upon her, indeed didn’t know he was there until he was wrapping his arms around her from behind. He pushed against her, and she felt his penis harden against the cheeks of her ass, the cheeks which Bertram had expelled the contents of his testicles across. Knowing that she had so freshly been penetrated, and having another man harden against it, it made her slicken once more down there, and made her knees weak.

“I want you,” Duke Blackburn said against the nape of her neck, and then he was kissing her there. It made her flesh tingle, and then his hand dipped down, and he was gathering her skirt up. When he felt her, he made no mention of the fact that she wore no smallclothes. She was wet, and his fingertip found her clitoris, tucked under a fold of skin. It sent shockwaves through her system.

“I thought you did not wish to make love to me,” she groaned.

“Then you were not listening. I do, but I will not. Still, there are other things I could do,” he said. The man used his hands to turn her around, and he held her skirt out to her. She held it up and he knelt down. He lifted one leg over his shoulder, and then his lips were against the lips between her legs.

His tongue lapped along her slit, and then pushed into her. She groaned and moaned. He flicked the tip of his tongue against her clitoris, and Anna used her free hand to grip the short hair on the back of his head.

“Oh my,” she said, and it was all she could think while the man brought her to an orgasm that was more intense than the one she had had just half an hour ago. When he was done the man stood up, and helped her smooth her skirt down.

“Marry me,” he said again, and she threw her arms around him and kissed him. She tasted herself, and it made her smile. Duke Blackburn was giving. He was kind, and gentle, and he had made her feel like no man ever had, or ever would.

“Yes,” she said. “Yes, I
will,
under one condition.”

“What is that?” he asked.

“Don’t stop doing that, even after we marry.”

Duke Blackburn laughed and kissed his young fiance on the cheek. “I will not,” he promised.

*****

THE END

Her Majesty's Prison Conway
was built
on the edge of a marsh in the Thames Estuary. In
winter,
it was often inaccessible due to flooding, and in summer the inmates and staff were eaten alive by bloodthirsty mosquitoes. It
was built
in seventeen thirty-six, with room for two hundred criminals. On the day Emily Lucas first visited the prison, it held over four hundred inmates in the worst situation of overcrowding ever known in an English prison.

At nineteen, Emily was a beautiful young woman with fair hair and a fresh complexion. There was only one horse-drawn coach a day from London to the prison, and as it was always full, a place had to be reserved well in advance. As Emily looked out of the window, she saw over the marsh to a large gray building surrounded by the mist of a damp spring day. She shivered and pulled her shawl around her slender frame.

''Ain't no
escapin'
from
here,'' the woman next to her said as she nodded in the direction of the prison. ''My
husband’s
been here for six years. He was a fine-looking man when he went in. Now he's half the
size,
and
he
's riddled with worms from the
bad
meat they
serve 'em
.''

Emily thought about asking what the lady's husband had done, but she didn't
really
want to know. Perhaps he'd murdered
someone,
and she would have it on her mind for the rest of the day, if not the week.

When they arrived outside the
forbidding
facade, the coach driver helped the women down and gave them their luggage. Emily had brought apples and some fresh bread and butter. A large man with a barrel chest and a huge mustache came out to greet them.

''Who hasn't been here before?'' he asked. Only Emily put her hand up. ''Right then Miss, you stay close to me.'' He led them to the enormous oak door and opened a smaller door within it. When Emily stepped
inside,
she felt her heart sink. It was dark, cold and noisy. Very noisy. It wasn't pleasant noise like the chug machine or birds in a dawn
chorus;
it was the shouts and groans of male voices.

They were standing in a huge stone corridor between the main entrance and the prison. As they walked towards another large door, the sounds became
louder,
and Emily wanted to go back. But she'd promised herself. The warder opened the next door and showed the women to a room on the left. It had stone walls and no source of light except for a few candles hanging on the walls. Every few yards there was a table and two chairs.

''Right Miss, you sit here,'' the warder said, pointing to a table in the far corner of the room. ''He's not a violent man like some of the others.'' He nodded to the tables closer to the door. ''We keep those tables for violent men. When they start being aggressive, we can shove them back into the prison more easily from there.''

Emily looked around her. There were about ten tables in the room, and the six women she had arrived with all had a seat. A whistle blew from somewhere, and the barred door in the corner opened. The first man to come through Emily did not like the
look of
.  When her father came through the
door
, she stood up to greet him and was instantly shocked. When he'd been sentenced for crimes of
a financial
nature three months earlier, he'd been a tall man with blonde hair and a muscular physique. Now he
stooped,
and his face was dirty. His hair looked as if it hadn't
been washed
for as long as he'd been in the terrible place.

''Father, oh father,'' Emily cried as she held her arms out.

''Sit down,
Miss
,'' the warder shouted
from
his seat next to the door.

''You look so tired.
Are you alright?'' she asked.

Her father looked at her blue eyes and beautiful face and smiled. Emily gasped when she noticed he had a tooth missing. ''I'm as well as can be expected, my dear.

''It's a horrible place. I'm sorry I couldn't come earlier, it is so difficult to get here, the coach is always full. I tried and tried but....'' she felt tears coming but stopped herself. She had to be strong for him.

''Don't upset yourself. You are my darling
daughter,
and it pains me more than anything else to see you upset.'' He took her hands in his. The warder stood up and walked over to them. When he was confident Emily was not passing her father anything sinister, he went away again. ''Are you happy living with your cousins?''

''I would be happier living with you and ma'ma,'' Emily said as she looked at his long
finger nails
.

''Of course, my dear. But we can't go back. When I close my eyes in the
evening,
your mother talks to me. She tells me to get out of here safely and to look after you. I miss your
mother
terribly but she's in heaven
now,
and we can't bring her back.''

''I wish we could,'' Emily said dejectedly.
''I feel so alone without you and her.
It was so lovely when we lived in Kingston, in our house with the garden and the river. Do you remember the tree father?'' her face lit up momentarily. ''You made me a house in the
tree,
and we sometimes sat up there and drank tea.''

Her father nodded and smiled again. ''Listen to me Emily,'' his grip increased on her
hand
as if that would make her
listen
more
closely
. ''You will be safe
at
your cousins. Aunt Beatrice, Helen, and James are good people. They will look after you, and help you over the next five years until I get out of here. Who knows, you may even find a husband in that time,'' he said trying to lighten the mood.

Emily wanted to fall in love and be as happy as her parents had been. She'd seen how beautiful their love for one another was. Emily suddenly thought about her mother and how awful it had been when she'd died. Her mother had been the cornerstone of the family. Her father had owned a very successful building
company,
and he'd
been well respected
in London. His services had been in demand by the rich and famous, and at some
point,
he became so busy he'd employed a firm of accountants to deal with his finances. The family were suddenly
rich
and had moved into a large house on the Thames, in Kingston, a well-to-do suburb of London. Despite taking advice as to the reputation of the firm of accountants and it's owner, he found himself bereft of funds very soon
afterwards
. When he couldn't pay his
bills,
he was arrested for
non-payment
of tax and sentenced to five years in prison.

''I've brought you some apples,
bread,
and butter,'' Emily said lifting the bag onto the table. The warder came across and looked. 

When it was time to go, Emily clung to her father and had to be pulled away from him. When she was outside in the fresh air, she vomited. ''Don't worry about it, young lady, it gets us all like that the first time,'' a fat
lady
with a dirty coat said.

*****

''Emily, Emily,'' Helen shrieked as she bounced into Emily's bedroom. Emily was lying under the covers thinking about her father and the awful place he
was in
. ''We're going to a party, look.'' Helen looked at the bed and saw Emily's face appear.

''That will be nice,'' she said in a melancholy tone'' She hadn't
slept
and she had dark rings under her eyes.

''Emily, I'm going to take you in hand. It's no
good,
I can't stand by and watch you torture yourself anymore. Now sit up and listen to me.''

Helen was nineteen and full of life. She'd had a privileged upbringing in a large house, with servants and acres of garden to play in. Her mother Beatrice, Emily's
mother
's sister, had married a
stock broker
who'd died at a young age and left her a fortune. She'd never remarried and brought Helen and James up by herself. ''We've
been invited
to a party by Roger Carruthers, it's his twenty-first birthday. Do you know the Carruthers family?''

''No, I don't,'' Emily said looking at the gold colored card in Helen's hand.

''Well, they are very rich, and all of
society
will be there. I know you are feeling melancholy about your father, but you can't do anything about the situation.
You need to start eating more, you're so thin.
We'll find you a beautiful dress and a lovely pair of
shoes,
and we'll go to the party and enjoy ourselves.''

Enough Emily told herself. Helen was right, she couldn't change the situation, so she would begin to live her life. ''Do you have a dress I can borrow? All my
dresses
went into the auction when they sold our house.''

''We will do better than that. I'll ask
mother
if we can go shopping. We'll both buy a new dress and new shoes and new everything,'' Helen threw her hands into the air in a gesture of jubilation. Emily laughed, Helen's mood was infectious.

Helen somehow managed to convince her mother that she and Emily desperately needed a new dress each, and new shoes, and if
mother
could possibly
afford it, new shawls. Aunt Beatrice was concerned about Emily and thought it would do her good to go out into town and
be treated
. Helen jumped up and down when he mother nodded in agreement. ''Can we go
today mother
, please?'' she begged.

That evening, Emily and Helen stood in Emily's room and looked at the spread of new clothes in front of them. Two dresses, two pairs of shoes and two
magnificent
shawls. ''Come on, let's dress up,'' Helen suggested. When Emily nodded, she rang for
her
lady's maid. When Jane arrived, she was confronted by two giggly girls standing in their undergarments. Jane was
twenty-three
and had been with the family for two years. She was from Yorkshire, a
no-nonsense
woman with a dry sense of humor.

''Right, Miss Helen, stop dancing around and stand still,'' she said as she put the dress over Helen's head. It was a navy blue and made of satin. Helen raised her
arms,
and it
fell down
over her. ''
Mrs
Jones
really
has a good
eye,
doesn't she,'' Helen said of the lady who owned the dress shop in town.

''She does. You look lovely,'' Emily said looking at the way the dress hugged Helen's
large
cleavage. Jane fastened the back of the dress, and Helen did some twirls in front of the mirror.

Jane turned her attention to Emily whose dress was red. Jane liked Emily. She was a sensible woman who had the same kind of humor as she did. Unlike Helen, who Jane found shallow and excitable, Emily had
depth
to her character. She was intelligent, well read and interested in more than parties. Whenever  Jane helped Emily to dress, she was impressed when Emily talked about the situation in the Crimea and the plight of the poor. Jane also liked
dressing
Emily for another reason. Emily was a beautiful woman with a perfect
figure,
and she carried her clothes so elegantly. Helen was stocky, but Emily was tall and slender, with
a decent
bust and curvaceous hips.

Helen looked on jealously as Jane fastened the back of Emily's dress and stood away to
look at
her. ''You look very elegant, indeed,'' Jane said. Helen wondered why she hadn't said that about her. Emily looked in the mirror and gasped. The dress flowed over her beautiful body touching all the places gentlemen so admired. Emily liked the
color,
it was between
deep
red and maroon. The edging around the puff sleeves was the same color as her eyes, Mediterranean blue.

*****

It was a windy April evening when Helen and Emily set off in the coach to the Carruthers residence. The horses pulling the carriage were restless, and they pulled at a rate the coachman didn't
agree with
. As he held them
on
the reigns, the coach lurched from slow to fast in sequence, throwing Emily and Helen around until they both began to feel travel sick. Helen leaned out of the window and shouted, ''Driver please, we are being thrown around mercilessly, kindly do something about it.''