“Of course.”
“Then there’s something I would like to try, with your permission of course.”
She was suspicious immediately and had to restrain herself from calling for Sam. Her body, however, had other ideas. She’d ached from merely looking at him all evening while they’d consumed all the dishes designed to seduce. She’d been a mindless ninnyhammer to think she could have pulled off a seduction of this strange man and remain calmly in control herself.
“What do you have in mind? Wouldn’t I seem buffle-headed to agree to something about which I’m kept in the dark?”
He came out of chair and stood behind hers, his hands lightly on her shoulders. “Do you trust me?”
“What kind of question is that?”
“It’s a reasonable one, I think, since it isyouwho invitedmeinto your home.”
“I don’t have to trust you.” She motioned toward the closed door. “All I have to do is summon Sam.”
“Ah, but once you summon Sam, you’ll never see me again.”
She sucked in a deep breath and for a minute thought she might explode from trying to outwit the exasperating man who was quietly massaging her shoulders and towering over her from behind. How could someone who looked that powerful have such a gentle touch?
Finally she spoke and her voice sounded so small, she was disappointed in herself. “What do you intend to do to me?”
He was silent for so long, she thought he might have given up on her. But his tender kneading of her shoulders had not stopped.Thank Hera.
“I’m going to make long, leisurely love to all of you, starting with your ears.”
She jerked out of his grasp, alarmed. “My ears?”
He walked around to the front of her chair and trapped her in the seat by leaning on the side rests with his muscular arms. “You have nothing to fear, if you truly trust me.” He pointed toward the plump chaise in the corner of her small drawing room. “I’m going to walk over there and get comfortable. If you still trust me, I want you to join me.” When she gave him a doubtful look, he added, “I’m going to tell you a story.”
* * *
Col shiftedto the side when Charlotte joined him after a hesitation so long, he began to think he’d lost her. She held herself stiffly away from his touch for a few moments before he positioned her carefully to sit within the curve of his arm.
When she relaxed a tiny bit, he leaned over and placed a soft kiss on the top of her head. The scent of lavender and tangerine swelled up from her hair piled in loose curls atop her head and nearly undid his resolve to go slowly. His earlier notion of placing her on his lap seemed like a really bad idea now.
“What kind of story are you going to tell me?” she demanded, a childish lilt of curiosity in her voice.
“You’ve heard of Scheherazade?”
“Of course.” She nodded her head and smiled. “You’re going to tell me that kind of story?”
“Sort of...”
“But what…?”
He cut her off. “No more questions. All you have to do is listen…and lean your head back here.” He pointed to his shoulder and then began the tale.
Once, long ago in the farmlands along the River Wey outside of London there was a poor peasant, Jacob, who loved Lissy, a milkmaid, from afar. He had a few sheep and cows, some pigs, chickens, and geese with whom he spent his winters in a small cottage and adjoining shed. His cows he took to the estate dairy each day where he watched Lissy take care of all the milking and storing of milk in pails to be sold in the village marketplace.
After leaving the dairy, he’d hurry to return his cows to his small cottage plot and then run all the way back the path past the dairy and on down toward the market town. He’d always manage to catch up to Lissy just before she reached the stream where she had to climb down and coax her stubborn donkey to pull the cart and its precious load across the stream before she got to the village.
At first she refused his help, and he had to be satisfied with waiting on the bank of the stream just in case his secret love needed help. Waiting on the bank was harder than he’d expected. He had to watch Lissy push at the cart from the back while the donkey balked and dawdled. He had to watch her tie up her skirts and bare her strong muscled calves so that she could push the cart from behind to keep her stubborn beast going across the water.
Sometimes, when the stream rose up after a heavy rain, the waters would wet her skirts all the way to her waist so that he could see her shapely bottom through her soaked skirt and petticoats. Once, when the stream ran very hard, she lost her grip on the cart and fell into the rushing waters.Jacob told himself he had no choice but to rescue the milkmaid who (truth to tell) was as stubborn as her donkey. She protested that she could help herself and batted his hands away but soon gentled into his arms while he carried her to the opposite bank. He returned to pull her silly donkey and cart loaded with milk jugs to safety as well.
He’d never forget that first feel of Lissy through her heavily soaked skirts and bodice, the warmth of her breasts, and the rapid beating of her heart. He thought she was ignorant of his feelings for her, but when his cock pressed against his breeches and she felt his hardness against her backside, she reached back and gently squeezed him.
He took her along the bank of the stream while her donkey grazed contentedly nearby, grateful to be free of pulling the cart for a while. He smothered her cries with kisses while he filled her with his cock. He suckled her breasts with his lips, as his son would nine months hence.
