These days, he didn’t even have a mistress. His Adele had been a sweet woman who longed for bourgeois respectability, especially after Eddie’s birth had taken them both by surprise. When a clerk had expressed an interest in her and proposed marriage, Edmund wished them well and sent a case of his best wine to the happy couple. That man provided something he couldn’t: youth and the protection of legal marriage. Edmund couldn’t have proposed, even if he’d wanted to; he was already married.
Finally, home in his study, Edmund removed the stopper from a decanter, then let it drop again with a clink. He didn’t actually want French brandy or Madeira; he wanted his house to be less quiet and his arms to be more full. Whether full of buxom curves again or the wiggling boy he loved, he didn’t know. He’d be happy with either. With anything.
He should seek another mistress. That was the logical solution to this unsolvable problem. In the meantime, he could take off this infernal morning suit and enjoy dinner in his dressing gown. Men’s fashions were becoming far too restrictive, no matter that the tailoring made his form look elegant despite his hulking size.
It was when Edmund had removed his coat, waistcoat, braces, shirt, trousers, garters, socks, and drawers that he heard it: a noise from nearby.
At first, he thought it was a kitten. How pitiful he was! So lonely that he imagined the sound of a baby cat within his walls!
While pulling on his dressing gown, he heard it again. And it was coming from the Marchioness’s rooms next door.
Without bothering to pull on his robe, Edmund swung open the door, ready to rescue the poor beast. He was considering names for the cat he’d not yet met when he realized that something was amiss.
On the bed rightfully belonging to his wife — but never used by her given that she’d remained in Shropshire for the duration of their marriage — was a man. A lean gent in his prime, his necktie loosened and boots off, but otherwise clothed in the first fashion. With his trousers open and drawers partially down.
Edmund didn’t think he’d seen the young man before, which was good since his face was making ridiculous expressions while inexpertly plowing a woman stretched out on the blankets. His wife’s bed.
The lady lay on the mattress, auburn hair spread on the pillow, her expression betraying boredom as she endured his thrusts. Poor girl; getting out of her bustle and petticoats to reveal all that luscious skin only to receive the most rudimentary of rogerings.
He struggled to place her. Perhaps she was the new kitchen maid his housekeeper had mentioned. Pity. He could use a woman like that, those long legs wrapped around his back as he thrust so hard her pretty peach nipples would shake despite her modest breasts.
And that dusting of freckles over her delicate nose, then down her chest? He could let his tongue taste each one until she begged for him to lick her lower. Down to that flaming bush he would love to sink his cock into.
But if she was a maid in his household, she was strictly off-limits to Edmund, no matter how much he wanted to push her beau aside and take his place so she finally moaned instead of studying the molding on the ceiling. He really needed to find a suitable woman, and soon.
“Afraid that stroke won’t make your girl reach sexual paroxysm, my man,” said Edmund companionably from the doorway of his own apartments at last. He hadn’t bothered to cover up, reasoning that no party had more right than him to be nude in this house.
The young blade jerked at the sound of Edmund’s voice, but the lady seemed unsurprised by his presence.
“You seem to have a healthy enough instrument,” he continued, drawing closer. “But you’re jamming it in this poor girl like a stiletto to the kidneys. Have a thought for her internal parts, my boy.”
The man, understandably, looked upset, glancing between the woman taking his inexpert railing and Edmund’s naked form. To be fair, he presented a considerable lot to take in.
“Now, if you will not make your girl come, I should probably ask you to leave. Though she’s never seen this room, it rightfully belongs to my wife.”
The gent’s thrusts slowed, and he cast an accusing glance at the woman on the bed. “I thought you said—“
“Oh, you wish to blame this whole affair on the lady, do you?” asked Edmund, his voice rising. “Can’t blame your lack of technique on her, though. I know some gents that could teach you how to make the most of your piece, should you care to learn.”
He shouldn’t bait the poor man; he was struggling as it was to keep time with Edmund looking on and a woman clearly disinterested in himas he continued fucking her. Still, he’d gotten to stick his cock in that gorgeous redhead but failed to buck up manfully when caught in the act?
The gent was thrusting in time with eyebrow raises to that luscious maid on the bed. Without cause, Edmund had decided she worked in the scullery, where a drab uniform hid those slightcurves he longed to trace. No doubt she was bent over a sink all day, just waiting for the master of the house to walk up behind her and lift her skirts.
Edmund took himself in hand, not the least bit shy about his response or size. If a view of the goods caused the woman to land in his own bed next time, he wouldn’t complain.
When her eyes shifted from studying the ceiling and locked on his own, Edmund should have known something was amiss. But she held his gaze and let her delicate hand drift slowly past those elegant breasts, over her trim midsection, and finally delve into the auburn curls between her thighs that perfectly matched the thick hair on her head.
Her breathing quickened alongside his own, and her lids dipped as she ran her fingers over that place he wished to see and kiss.
She was showing him something private and profound, and he wanted to give her something of himself back. He shifted his hand on his club-like cock so she could see how hard he was for her.
“I bet that cunny is tight,” growled Edmund.
“Now, see here!” protested the gent.
“Wouldn’t anyone be on a piece like that?” the woman asked with an arched eyebrow.
Her hand worked faster now, petting that luscious seam as her other hand traced one of those nipples he wished to taste.
