His face was even handsomer with the shadow of a night beard. His muscular chest rose and fell in peaceful splendor. He was a magnificent fantasy, and he’d been hers...for one night.
Thank you, she whispered in her heart.I’ll never forget the beauty I found in your arms.
Opening the door, she walked out.
4
“Spare no details, Bea,”Fancy Sheridan said. “I want to ’eareverythingabout the masquerade!”
The next afternoon, Bea was having tea with her bosom chum in the gazebo. All around the sprawling gardens of Camden Manor, butterflies floated, dipping to visit the plants she’d put there to entice them. Ducks splashed on the ornamental pond, scattering diamonds over the water’s surface. Sunshine burnished the tall stone wall that protected the garden and manor house from prying eyes.
It was a normal summer day in Bea’s sanctuary, yet she had a heightened awareness of everything. It was as if last night’s adventures had removed some invisible veil between her and the world. Everything seemed more vibrant, more alive, her senses drinking in the world around her. The warm breeze caressing her skin. The scent of clipped hedges, lavender, and verbena. The pleasant soreness of muscles never before used…
Seeing the curiosity shining in Fancy’s doe-brown eyes, Bea wanted to share her discoveries with her dearest friend. When Bea had purchased Camden Manor five years ago, she’d arrived broken in spirit, afraid to trust in anyone or anything. All she’d wanted was privacy, the safety of seclusion.
Then the Sheridan family had come along.
Fancy’s papa, Milton Sheridan, was a travelling tinker, and he and his family had come to Bea’s estate looking for work. Since Camden Manor had been left in shambles by the previous owner, Bea had cautiously hired them on. Not only had the Sheridans proved to be indispensable in the tasks of restoring the estate, they’d shown Bea true kindness and what she, the privileged daughter of a duke, had never had: acceptance for who she was.
The Sheridans had helped her regain confidence in herself and find new purpose. They were a wandering family, but they made Bea’s estate a permanent stop on their route, staying the summer until after the harvest in a cottage she kept reserved for them. All year, Bea looked forward to their arrival. While in her new life she was known as Miss Beatrice Brown, a wealthy spinster, she trusted the Sheridans with the truth of her past.
Fancy, in particular, had become Bea’s closest confidante.
At two-and-twenty, Fancy was two years younger than Bea, although her plaited hair, large brown eyes, and petite figure in its patched dress made her appear even more youthful. She had not been born a Sheridan—her papa had found her as a babe abandoned in a field—but her family treated her as one of their own. Life as a travelling tinker’s daughter had given her a wisdom beyond her years. By nature, Fancy was shy and rather timid…until one got to know her.
Unlike Bea’s so-called “friends” in London, further acquaintance with Fancy revealed her true beauty, inside and out. Only a girl as loyal and sweet as Fancy could have taught Bea to believe in friendship again. Fancy was the type of friend who would go along with anything, stick with one through thick and thin. Indeed, she’d created Bea’s butterfly costume, sewing being one of her many assorted skills.
She’d even wanted to accompany Bea to the masquerade…but Bea had drawn the line at that. It was one thing for her to take a risk, another to endanger her friend. She would not repay the kindness of the Sheridans by causing Fancy harm.
Bea could, however, share the experience vicariously with her chum. Taking a fortifying sip of tea, she gave an abridged version of last night’s events. She described the handsome stranger, how he’d been the only man who had guessed her costume.
“And I, um, spent the evening with him,” she concluded, her cheeks hot.
“Was it nice? Did it ’urt when ’e…you know…” Eyes wide, Fancy made a circle with thumb and index finger on one hand, poking her other index finger through the hole.
Bea sputtered on her tea. “Heavens, wherever did you learn that horrid gesture? You’re better off just saying it, dearest.”
Fancy cast a nervous glance around the garden despite the fact that there was no one to eavesdrop…except perhaps Bea’s dog Zeus. Bea had found the brindle bull terrier bleeding at the side of the road; some bastard had left the animal to die from injuries sustained from dogfighting. She’d rescued the dog, naming him after the God of Thunder for the lightning bolt-shaped scar on his forehead. At present, Zeus lay sprawled on the gazebo floor, his snores conveying his degree of interest in the conversation.
“What was it like to ’ave…relations?” Fancy’s face turned the color of beets.
How do I describe the visceral, all-consuming pleasure?
Waking up this morning, Bea had felt somehow…changed. Filled with energy despite her lack of sleep. Last night hadn’t been about losing her virginity; it had been about discoveringherself. The myriad, wondrous sensations she could feel. The headiness of sharing pleasure with another. The joy of feeling, on the most primal level, that one was desirable.
“It exceeded all my expectations.”An understatement, if ever there was one.
“In what way?”
Knowing what Fancy was asking, Bea said frankly, “I didn’t know that there were so many aspects to lovemaking. Besides kissing and the actual act, I mean. And to answer your earlier question: no, it didn’t hurt, exactly. It wasn’t entirely comfortable at first, but after a period of adjustment, it felt quite…natural.”
Such a sweet girl, coming in my mouth.Her lover’s deep voice played in her head, giving her a delicious shiver.I can’t wait to screw deep inside you, feel this tight, wet little pussy holding every inch of my cock…
Given his size—which had beena lotmore than a few inches—she still didn’t comprehend how he’d fit. But he had, her body accommodating to his. Her intimate muscles fluttered, their slight soreness a reminder of how well and thoroughly they’d been used.
Fancy’s eyes widened. “What is there besides kissing and the actual act?”
“Well, there’s touching. And the kissing…” Bea cleared her throat. “Suffice it to say, it isn’t limited to the mouth.”
