Breakfast at Bracegirdle's

The adorable—and capable---Mr. B. gets a sexy wake up call!

*****
Lizzie sang to herself as she assembled the coffee tray, carefully arranging the pink Sevres service with its tall coffee pot---the coffee strong and piping hot---and a jug of hot milk. She grated a cone of white sugar into the sugar bowl. "Hot and sweet, just as he likes it," she thought, smiling. There were plump, white rolls wrapped up in linen, a crock of cold, sweet butter and gooseberry jam.

" I can take that, mum," Annie said, looking up from her sweeping of the hearth. " I gots to see to the night soils anyhow."

Lizzie wrinkled her nose. What an awful thought. Was she thinking to serve Anthony his breakfast before or after she had emptied the chamber pots?

" Thank you, Annie, " she said; " You've enough to do on a washday Monday. I can take Mr.Bracegirdle his breakfast. He will want to wash and shave. Is the water hot?"

Annie nodded toward the hearth. " Plenty hot water there, mum."

" Good. " Lizzie said, " Where are the girls?"

" Out playin', mum. A fine spring morning. Genny's wi' 'em."

Out playing. That was well. Lizzie picked up her tray and carried it out of the keeping room, and down the hall. She glanced at the big ormolu clock in the parlor as she passed. Not yet eight o'clock. Still early yet. At the foot of the lovely, curving stair, she stopped to look at herself in the glass opposite.

Not bad at all for thirty-two, she thought. Her soft, corn-coloured hair was piled carelessly atop her head, a few errant curls falling upon her cheeks and forehead; eyes that made up their own minds on any given day whether to appear green or grey or blue; pale brows and lashes. When they would go out of an evening, she would darken them with lead combs and rub her cheeks and lips with just a hint of rouge, as her London abigail had showed her back in her coming-out days. "Enhance, do not paint, Miss. So no one will ever know."

She touched the back of her hand to the underside of her chin. Just a bit more fullness there now, perhaps, than had been there three babies ago, but still, not bad. Her skin was still taut and smooth, her bosom full and soft. She wore a loose morning gown with nothing underneath. No point in dressing just yet. She turned from the glass and started up the stair.

"My husband is home, and I am so happy!" She thought. "My Tony, my lovely, my sweet, happy man." Tony was from a well-to-do family, as was she, and they lacked for nothing they needed, no, nor for much they simply fancied. He had gone to sea at thirteen because he must do something, and he had a romantic notion about it, and he had found that he loved it; loved his ship, loved his captain, loved the men he served with. At thirty-three, he was still a lieutenant but he was well enough contented. Tony was not without ability, of course, but he had not the driving ambition of some men, who had that fire in their bellies. Men like Captain Pellew and that lean and hungry young lieutenant, of his, Hornblower, whom she had met at Lady Pellew's dinner party. Awkward and gauche, yes, but intense and brilliant and full of that fire. Horatio Hornblower! And she had thought " Bracegirdle " was bad. Pity the poor future Mrs. Hornblower!

To their marriage, her father had given his permission grudgingly. He disdained Tony's lack of ambition. But given his permission her father had, grudgingly or no. It was a bit of a forgone conclusion, for Becca was already on the way.

And since they had married, nothing but good things had come their way. Three lovely little girls. This dear, pretty house overlooking the sea. Captain Pellew was a lucky Captain, and a first Lieutenant's share of his prizes had amounted to a goodly sum. And one day, Lizzie knew, Anthony would have seen enough of the sea, and would be content to come home to her, for good, at last, to stay.

Lizzie stopped on the landing to glance out the window. Below, in the garden, her three little girls played, all with hair the colour of bleached tow.  Rebecca, the eldest, was now ten. Nell was seven, and Franny, the baby, just two. They looked busy. Lizzie smiled, again, to herself and hurried up the last few steps.

The bedroom was filling with the morning sun, creeping in ever lengthening shafts across the wide floorboards. A window was open; the woolen draperies tied back, and the filmy muslin curtain that covered the opening luffed a little in a light breeze. She looked to the high, massive four-poster, hung with heavy crewelwork panels. She could just make out his shape, buried under piles of fluffy covers and could see just the top of his head, with its thinning, honey-coloured hair.  He was still sleeping? No, only drowsing. Waiting for her.

She went to place the tray on the little round table before the window, and as she bent, looked back over her shoulder to see him watching her with lazy, half-closed eyes. His lips curved in a sleepy little smile.

" Do you see something that pleases you, sir?" She asked, still keeping her back to him.

" Oh, aye."

She crossed to the bed and stood, looking down. He had the covers pulled up to his chin. His blue eyes were still a little bleary from sleep, but there was mischief there already.

" I have something for you, Missus, " he said, twinkling at her.

" Oh? What have you then?"

" Just have a look." His eyes flicked towards the pile of blankets and he gave a little nod of his head.

She smiled a slow smile, and putting out her hand, plucked delicately at the edge of the cover. She lifted it higher and higher, then ducked her head under and had a peek.

" Oh, sir!" she gave a little gasp of mock surprise, " Oh, truly? Is that all for me?"

" All for you." He reached for her then, pulling her down on top of him, wrapping her in his big, burly arms.

" Mmmm," she lay there for a moment, feeling the sleepy heat of him through the thickness of blankets that was between them. He was wearing his oldest silk nightshirt, and she felt of its worn softness beneath her cheek as she laid her head on his well-padded shoulder. A big, comfortable love of a man, that was what she had.

" I've brought your breakfast, " she said, raising her head and resting her chin on his breastbone. Her hand went to his cheek, her thumb sliding over his bottom lip. He bit it lightly.

"I have a yearning for something sweet," he said. His arms slid up over her back and shoulders and he took her face in his hands -- surprisingly beautiful, elegant hands for a man of his size-- and gently he brought her forward to kiss him. He kissed her softly, slowly. Her lips parted, and she accepted his gentle exploring tongue, answering his explorations with her own.

His hands moved ever downward, pressing in warm, delicious circles as the worked their way. Stopping to squeeze her neat little waist and moving on to take handfuls of her lush, rounded bottom.

" Mmmm, " she moaned again, and arched her pelvis against the softness beneath her. A little frission of heat shot through her as he brought his thigh up a little to meet her and she pressed against him, her legs parting slightly on either side of it. " Ohhh, " she sighed as she rubbed. Oh, so good.

She sat up suddenly, breaking the kiss with a small intake of breath and then a long exhalation. She smiled beguilingly, and he watched her as she moved over and slid off of the bed. Standing beside the bed, she took her hands and slowly raised the hem of her gown, bringing it up over her head, and finally, letting it fall to the floor in a whisper of silk.

His eyes wandered appreciatively over her pretty, naked body. Her skin was the colour of a lightly baked biscuit, pale golden, but for where it lightened to creamy whiteness over her beautiful, bountiful breasts, the nipples dark pink, like raspberries. Her belly was smooth, rounded, with just the slightest bit of soft slackness there, the faint, silvery marks that told of her having his babies. The waist, still tiny enough, nearly, for him to span with his two hands. Her hips were ample, curving to voluptuous thighs, betwixt which nestled that sweet blonde triangle.

" Come here, Something Sweet," he spoke huskily, raising himself on one elbow, and turning back the cover with his other hand.

She only smiled, and slowly, slowly, raised her arms to remove the pins from her hair. One by one she let them fall, and the hair came down, in waves of corn silk, slipping over her shoulders and back, partly covering her breasts.

" Come…here, " he repeated, with a little growl in his voice.

She went to him then, clambering up into the big, high bed. On her knees beside him, she pulled the covers off, and down almost to the foot of the bed. He lay on his back against the pillows. On her hands and knees she crept over him, and straddled his thighs. He was thick, solid. The hair that covered his thighs was light and soft and golden. His flesh felt firm beneath her hands as she slid them up his legs, under the nightshirt, pushing it up over his hips, up onto his belly.
 
His cock stood proud as a first crocus, thick and strong, rising from its spongy nest of dark bronze hair. She pretended to ignore it for now, letting her hands move further up over his belly and chest. As she moved over him, her breast swung low, just brushing the tip of his manhood. He could not help but shift himself a little at the touch.

She loved the feel of him. Big and soft, but with a strength and hardness underlying. He could crush her in his arms if it pleased him, but he was gentle, skillful, never awkward with her. His size and strength were her security, her shelter.

She rocked back on her haunches and encouraged him to sit up so that she could pull the nightshirt over his head. Naked, he sat back against the pillows, and grasping her hips, pulled her onto his lap. She straddled him, her belly pressed against his, the length of his cock lay in the crack of her bum, and she could feel its heat against her silky flesh, its little throbbing pulse.

She was locked in his arms, and he was kissing her deeply, sweetly. He left her mouth and let his lips glide along her jaw, down her neck, into the sweet hollow of her shoulder. Her head fell back and she gasped as his hands came to her breasts, cupping and caressing, his fingertips flicking over her nipples, making them stand in urgent, aching points.

She was ready for him already, as slick as an eel, and the urge to simply impale herself upon him in this position was almost more than she could resist. But she would not just yet.

She wriggled from his arms and shimmied down the bed and she lay herself between his thighs. Her eyes went a little crossed as she tried to focus on the shaft in front of her face.

" All for me?" She said again, smiling up at him.

He wiggled it at her, and she giggled, putting out a hand to stop the motion. Her little fingers were barely long enough to close around its girth. Never taking her eyes from his face, she moved in, and he saw her little pink tongue flicker out from between her parted lips, and delicately lap the first salty bead of moisture that had appeared on the tip.

" Ssss!" He felt a first shock of intense pleasure. She smiled and she watched him as she set to work, her tongue gliding up and over, down and 'round, seemingly endlessly, teasingly, making him shiver. He wanted to put his hand to the back of her head, to urge her to take him all the way into her warm, wet, mouth. But he would not just yet.

She cupped his balls in her hand, feeling of their cool, slippery weight. One at a time she took them in her mouth, sucking at the slack skin as the firm, round fruits inside rolled over her tongue. She could see he was grasping at handfuls of the sheet. He moaned. Suddenly, wickedly, she rose, and opening her mouth, went swiftly down on him, letting the length glide all the way to the back of her throat.

" Lizzie!" he cried hoarsely, and she was afraid she might have gone too far. She waited. He relaxed, and she began to move on him in a gentle rhythm. She did know him. Just enough, just enough to bring him near, but she would save him for herself. It was all for her.

His big hands kneaded her shoulders, encouraging her to the rhythm and speed he liked.  "Ah…God…you are…so sweet, " he crooned, as he lay back, closing his eyes. She sucked him. She watched and waited. Soon he would want to be inside her. He was coming near. "Lizzie, darling, let me…let me…"

But she wouldn't let him just yet.

" Darling, please…you must…stop." He begged her. She ignored him. She knew when to stop.

"Lizzie!" he bucked suddenly, and reached for her, grabbing her by the shoulders and pulling her off him, bringing her up to his chest. He was breathing hard and laughing.

"Little witch! " he gasped, " You might have been very sorry."

She laughed and kissed him, " I want my present, " she whispered, " You said it was for me."

 " Not yet." He had her in his arms, and now he pushed her over onto her back. He covered her mouth again with his, and his hand moved over her body, sliding down, down, over the arc of her ribcage, her soft little belly.

" Ahh!" A soft cry as his hand slid at last between her legs. Her sex was so tender, slippery and engorged, and his fingers moved expertly. His first and middle fingers went inside her, while his thumb made tiny, gentle circles, round and round her little nub. His third finger, well lubricated with her juices, probed gently, naughtily, at her bum hole, making her blush, but at the same time giving her an intensity of pleasure she could barely stand.

" I love you!"  She breathed, " Oh, Anthony!"

" I love you," he answered her, moving now down her body with his kiss, wanting to pleasure her with his mouth, as she had him. But she stopped him, tangling her fingers in his soft hair.

" No, darling," she whispered, " I want you now. Come inside me."

He got to his knees and positioned himself over her. She opened her thighs wide for him, gazing at him soft-eyed, her cheeks flush. Her hand reached out for him. Her fingers stroked at the underside of his cock, tracing its arc. " I love you," she repeated, " Oh, come inside!"

He lowered himself, careful to take his own weight, as she guided him. Slowly he pushed himself into her buttery softness, a little at a time. She tilted her hips to take him in. "Yes," she whispered, " Yes, now, yes!"

" God!" he thrust into her mightily at last, burying himself in her. She wrapped her arms and legs around him, her head thrown back, and her eyes closed, her corn silk hair fanning out over the pillows.

She felt so full of him, perfectly stretched and filled. She imagined she could feel him tickling the mouth of her womb, pushing at her very insides with his long, powerful strokes. The sensation of his rhythmic stroking on her engorged inner lips was enough to drive her wild, but also he had positioned himself just so, riding the very pearl of her pleasure, and in spite of her self, she was fast coming to her crisis.

She tried to distract herself, to make herself last. She opened her eyes and watched his face as he took his pleasure. His grey-blue eyes were half closed. She admired his prettily molded nose, his sweet mouth. Strands of honey blonde hair fell over his shoulders, brushing her face as he moved on her. His skin was smooth and tanned under a light growth of blonde stubble. She had not got round to bringing that shaving water!

Oh, it was too good. He felt so good to her. The weight of him. The way he fit her so perfectly down there. She reached up and took his face in her hands and pulled him down for a kiss. She gripped him tighter with her thighs, trying to slow him.

" Wait…wait," she said as she kissed him, " Pray, stop for a moment, my love."

He stopped then, and kissed her back. He rolled onto his side, staying inside her, her one leg thrown over his hip. He ran his hand down her thigh and up to her bottom, lazily caressing her as he lay beside her, waiting.

" All right?" He asked, kissing her lightly.

" Hm-mm." She smiled dreamily at him. It was good just to lie here and feel him, long and hard inside her. She could feel the tick of his pulse.  Another moment passed.

" All right." She rolled atop him, putting him onto his back, and sitting astride him once more.

" Mm. Lovely," he murmured as she began to rock. Her heavy breasts swayed with the motion. He lay back, enjoying the spectacular sight. She rocked slowly at first, sitting down on him, rubbing herself against him in a slightly circular motion. But then the sensation began to take him, and he began to move his hips according to his own need. His thrusting pushed her up onto her knees and she fell forward, her hair spilling onto his chest, her hands gripping his shoulders. She felt he was growing even longer inside her. She arched her back to give him more length into which to plunge.

He was thrusting hard and fast now, much harder than if he had been on top of her—for he need not be so careful of her in this position. He was in control of himself, but she knew she would not stop him a second time. She was ready.

" Anthony! Oh, Anthony!"  He was going so deep, so hard, so fast! His strong hands gripped her hips, holding her. She spread her legs a little wider, and that lowered her body, bringing him in even deeper. She felt the familiar tightening in her womb. She gritted her teeth as the walls of her sex closed on him, that unbearable tension, that warm, flooding sensation.

" Aa-aah!" she cried out sharply as she came. She threw her head back, and then let it fall forward, her hair flying in his face as he bucked against her. She felt weak, floppy. Her arms were trembling as she held his shoulders. Knowing, he gathered her in his arms, holding her to his chest as he made his final thrusts.

" Lizzie." Her name was a long sigh escaping his lips as he spent himself in her.


                                                    ******

She felt a little chill, lying naked as passion subsided, and the breeze from the open window reached the bed. Gooseflesh was rising on her arms. Seeing it, he reached down and pulled up the covers, tucking them around them both. Beneath the covers he wrapped her in his arms, and she lay on his chest, sweetly contented.

Her eyes wandered to the window, to the little table where the lovingly prepared coffee service still sat, untouched.

She frowned. " Your breakfast will be stone cold by now."

" Ah, no," he said, nosing in her hair, breathing the musky lovemaking scent on her, " I've had my breakfast, and it was lovely and warm." Smiling, he kissed her. " Nothing like breakfast at Bracegirdle's, I always say."


The End

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