He pushed her off of her elbow and used his body to cause her to lie back on the blanket. He kissed her thoroughly and relished every corner and crevasse inside of her mouth. He would do likewise with other parts of her person. For now, though, he felt an overpowering need to simply adore her.
And then he pulled away and stared into her eyes. They held an unimaginable question. And then she said, “May we try it?”
Oh, good incredible almighty God in heaven!
In answer, he reached down and grasped the material of her skirt. He was going to choreograph this very carefully. He wanted her to enjoy this as much as he was most assuredly going to. He thought through various scenarios quickly. They could lay on their sides with him propping one of her legs up with his hand. Or she could remain how she was, lying on her back looking up at the sky.
But, considering other matters, he expected this might work best if Penelope was on top of him. He pulled her skirt up to her knees and spun himself around. Her ankles were still very slim, her legs a delightful creamy white, and her thighs soft and supple. “Climb on top of me, love,” he said.
Unabashed, she raised herself to all fours and then lifted her leg across and straddled his chest. He was suddenly enshrouded in the material of her dress. He inhaled that clean fresh scent he’d grown fond of, as well as the subtle perfume of her arousal. The sunlight penetrated the material, and he had an incredibly appetizing view of her derriere. He took hold of her hips and pulled. She seemed to know what he wanted and scooted backward at his urging.
Just as he was about to reach down to unfasten his falls, he felt petite hands begin undoing them on their own. He was most certain there was nothing in his life he’d ever done to deserve a wife so bold and so willing.
Not willing to wait and hoping she did not change her mind, he parted her folds and leaned his head forward. At the same time, fresh air hit his cock and then the warmth and moist paradise of her mouth. He could tell already that she was as stimulated as he. He enjoyed watching what he was doing and only closed his eyes a few times, when he needed to summon other thoughts in order to keep himself from spending too soon. He used his fingers, his thumb, his lips, and his tongue on her. She used her lips, her hands, her tongue and, good God, the depths of her throat on him. Occasionally, he would feel the edge of a tooth, but she was careful. And there was something about the knowledge that pain was so near that only enhanced his excitement.
And then she began to jerk and shudder. Her juices had found their way all around his mouth and chin. He was going to spend. He could not help it any longer.
“Pen, you might want to, I’m going to—” Surely, he could not spend in her mouth.
But she grasped him tightly. He was trapped. He pumped once, twice, a third time even deeper into her mouth and then allowed his release to come.
She held him there until his member stilled. The only indication either of them yet lived was the pulse he could feel of her heartbeat, and he knew she could feel the throbbing pulse of his. She collapsed atop him and he slid out of her mouth. He was still shrouded in her skirts with the sunlight filtering through. As his heart slowed down, he once again heard the waves crashing below. A sea gull let out a squall.
Both lay exhausted for several minutes before Hugh could summon the energy to speak. “Hell, Penelope. I’m going to have to take a look atyourlibrary.”
Her hand began caressing the lower half of his stomach and her fingers combed the hair on his belly. It was a pleasant sensation, soothing. “You may, Hugh,” she said matter-of-factly, “But I’ve always found that the scientific method is the best way to learn.”
Chapter 24
Penelope began to realize, as the long summer days passed, that there were many different layers to a marriage.
There was the practical side, the business and administrative matters. Yes, she’d finally sent word to her mother. Yes, he’d sent an announcement to the newspapers in London, and yes, they were going to need to find a new cook soon. She had grown quite elderly and seemed to be struggling with her duties. And in spite of their wedding and marriage, in spite of Penelope’s interesting condition, the house was in mourning. A black wreath hung on the doorway, and Penelope had had some gowns made up locally of bombazine and crepe. They were not very comfortable, but nothing seemed very comfortable lately. Hugh persisted in wearing the black armband but also a black cravat. She knew he still felt the loss of his mother deeply, even though he didn’t discuss it with her very often.
There was the public aspect of their marriage. Hugh had told her it would not be necessary for her to meet with the tenants, yet, due to her condition, but while she still felt energetic, she wanted to know more about the estate.
And so, he’d taken her about, to the tiny cottages interspersed amongst the holdings and introduced her formally. She always brought with her a basket filled with staples and preserves from the manor’s own inventory. If Hugh told her there would be children, she’d pilfer a toy or two from a collection of Margaret and Hugh’s in the attic. Nothing of sentimental value, however; she always checked with Hugh first. She wanted their children to have access to some of the same playthings their father had entertained himself with as a boy.
They also attended church together weekly, sitting in the front pew. Initially, Penelope felt self-conscious. The surrounding gentry were very forgiving of their precipitous marriage. Hugh was a viscount and she a viscountess. That was what mattered most. And Hugh had always been extremely popular. There were a few younger ladies who eyed her with distaste and envy, but Penelope would not be bothered.
For there was also the physical side of marriage, which the two of them were working out very nicely. Penelope had discovered, after the day of their picnic, that she truly was not squeamish when it came to sensual pleasures. Hugh was not at all either.
It was not unusual for either of them to approach the other with a new idea they had from a picture or book. They’d devised many scenarios that allowed them to satisfy each other without putting pressure on the babies, nor undo stress, it seemed.
Penelope had not counted on experiencing such physical pleasure when entering marriage. She’d been all too intent on everything else. But now that she had discovered it, she deliberately kept scenarios in mind that could be used for when Hugh and she did not wish to procreate anymore. Ways that involved other things than merely the male withdrawing his member before spending. Because she was more aware, now, than she ever had been before, of the dangers that came along with childbirth.
And in the early hours of the morning, when Hugh slept softly beside her, she worried.
There was more than one baby to be concerned for.
Two hearts, two heads, two brains, twenty fingers and twenty toes. Not only did she worry for their lives but for the quality of their health should they both live. She’d heard of early babies being compromised for life with debilitating ailments. She told herself, rationally, that these apprehensions were unproductive for both her and the babies, but she was unable to dismiss them.
And there was another aspect to marriage—one that presented her and Hugh with the greatest challenge—emotional intimacy.
As husband and wife, Hugh and Penelope trusted each other implicitly with their bodies, their possessions, and the day to day decisions about the estate, but there was a wall of sorts between them when it came to trusting each other outright.
This kept them from sharing their dreams, their thoughts, their fears.
Hugh had decided that there was no possible way that the babies were of his own seed and was not ever willing to discuss it. If she even began to bring up the subject, he either cut her off, changing the subject, or removed himself physically. That dark and distant mood settled in him and would not leave for a day or two. She did not think he did it intentionally, but she still felt as though he would punish her for every attempt.
