Part Six

Lying flat on his back, he stared up at the intricate pattern of birds and vines on the lace canopy that covered the four-post bed. His mouth felt bruised and swollen with kissing. He knew all about kissing. There was nothing about kissing he could imagine he that must not now know.

As for the other swollen, aching part of him, well, that was never going to go away. He had resigned himself to that. And he was never leaving this room. Did it matter? Did he care for anything but what he was right now? He was a blissfully flesh-bound animal, a careless, willing prisoner of his own delirious blood.

He felt the mattress dip, and turned his head to see her. She leaned over him, smiling, her hair unbound and floating, falling, everywhere. Naked. Somehow, the nightdress had gone, and there, all smooth, perfect whiteness, she reclined, supporting herself on one arm, the splendid, slender, gently curving length of her rising and falling before him like a horizon of hills covered in soft, white snow. All shimmering slopes and dusky shadows and there, deep in the valley between her thighs, was the downy, dark red heart of her mystery.  His own heart hammered in his chest so hard it pained him. Was it possible, he wondered, to simply perish of desire?

"What are you thinking?" she asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

"I am thinking," he whispered hoarsely, reaching for her. "That I can't remember how to breathe!"

She laughed at him as she lay down beside him, and took his hand.

Her breasts were so beautiful; he'd had no idea---delicate, smallish, rounded at the bottom and turning up at the top in the most perfect, logical way, the pink of her nipples so pretty and soft---the faint, rosy color of the sky before dawn. The fragile skin was softer and smoother than silk; he could scarcely feel it as he brushed it with the tips of his fingers, and he watched with fascination as the little pink tips puckered and turned up at his touch.

"Yes," she sighed, and she rolled into his arms, kissing him again. He kissed her back, for now he knew how, slowly, deeply, his hot, bruised mouth melting once again into hers.

"Now, let me see you," she whispered. There were only his breeches left, and her deft fingers easily undid his buttons, letting the flap fall. Small, hot hands slid inside breeches and undergarment, pushing them down over hips and buttocks. He rolled onto his back, lifting his hips to allow her to pull them off completely. His passion was most extravagantly evident. He blushed, and she saw it.

"You are magnificent, Archie" she whispered, laying a hand on his quivering belly. "Beautiful."

"Yes, you wanted to be out of there, didn't you?" she crooned softly, stroking lightly down his flank, and up the inside of his thigh. He groaned.

She molded her body to his as they kissed, and he knew he would go mad, unable to satisfy his hunger for her mouth, her softness, her amazingly silky skin. She ravaged his tender mouth, and stroked his back, his buttocks, his belly, his thighs, and everywhere she touched, he burned. He felt the small sting of a soft bite on his neck, a sharp little nip on his collarbone, and she was moving lower, allowing his sensitized member to glide along the downy skin of her stomach. A sound between dying and ecstasy rolled from his lips.

Her breath came in hot, tantalizing puffs on his tingling skin. Her luscious mouth covered him: warm, dewy, slippery. It was the most incredible thing he had ever felt, and when her hand slid between his legs, closing over the taut, aching knot of his balls, it was all he could do not to cry out.

"Ah! Georgiana!" he whispered fiercely. "Please! You're killing me!"

She slid back up his body to face him, green eyes sparkling wickedly, and she chuckled, low in her throat. "It has been said that I have that effect on men."

"God! No!" Archie cried. "Stop, it! I swear it's true! You are the very devil!" Desperately, boldly, he rolled on top of her, pinning her underneath him, his raging cock seething between her thighs. He was rock hard to bursting, enormous. He was sweating, he panted, his hair was hanging in her face.

"And you are a perfect angel," she whispered, smiling, soft-eyed, stroking his face. "Your eyes, my God, they are blue as heaven."

He exhaled, laughing weakly, and dropped his head onto her shoulder. "I hurt like hell."

"I know, my darling. You know what to do."

He nodded, a little uncertainly, and she reached for his hand, pressing him to her. His fingers tangled in the short curls, dampish and steamy warm. "Do you feel it?" she asked him as his fingers slipped along the silky folds. "Can you feel how much I want you?"

He felt it, and nothing had ever felt so intriguingly wonderful. She was like an exotic flower whose soft petals shielded a honey-like bud; its sweet nectar covered him, and as he opened her, her scent rose, covering him along with the dew, so powerful, so sweet, it made him wild with desire.

"Archie…"

He rose a little on his knees, his belly contracting, holding his breath, as she took a gentle hold on him, leading him to the mark, and then he lowered himself, sinking slowly, and then falling fast, into the most unbelievable pleasure. It was so incredible that finally, he did cry out. Her warmth and moisture coated him everywhere; he felt he was gliding into a cushion of slick, pulsing comfort---and exquisite agony.

He convulsed as an uncontrollable shiver wriggled down his spine and he gritted his teeth as the heat seared the tip of his manhood, spreading through the head and all the way up and down the shaft, clutching at his balls. The sensation was overwhelming, and he fought for control. No! He did not want to---

"George!" he gasped. "God help me!"

"Shhh, it's all right," she whispered, as her hands caressed his tight shoulders. "Just come. Come inside me, my beautiful love." And she opened her self wider, wrapping her long legs around him, holding him close.

She held him with her steady green gaze and slowly she began to rock her hips, encouraging him gently. Her hands moved to his buttocks, squeezing him. He did know what to do. He pushed himself into her slowly, closing his eyes against the sensation.

 She moved, and he moved with her. "Oh, God…oh, God…" he sighed. His mouth caressed along her jawbone, his hot breath was ragged against the delicate folds of her ear. He trembled in her arms as she lifted, again and again into his thrusts.

She rocked him, and he followed her. A definite rhythm. Hard. Swift. Deep. Suddenly, miraculously, he was in control. He raised himself on his hands and plunged, over and over, and now her eyes were closed and she tilted her head back.

"Mmmm." she moaned. "You feel…so good…in me!"

The sight, the sound, was so unbelievably erotic he was nearly undone. Gasping, he dropped down and claimed her mouth in a ferocious kiss, and when she moaned again, the sound moved through his throat, vibrating through his entire body. It was the end.

"Yes, now!" she was contracting on him, pulsing, squeezing. It was too much, he could not---

"George…I…ohhh!" He poured into her. Endlessly, and she released around him, her strong contractions adding to his. He cried out, feeling that his very soul was leaving him, and there was nothing he could do but surrender it---to her.

****

Archie tried to catch his breath, but he could not. Never, no never, had he felt anything like that! He simply hadn't known, and although he had long ago guessed it must be true, now he knew. This was joy. This was love. This was all of sweetness and good, and this was nothing of pain, or dirt, or fear.

Spent, Georgiana lay sprawled underneath him. She opened her eyes languidly and smiled at him. Her hair was a wild tangle, dampened with their sweat, and a rosy flush from her exertions dusted her cheeks. Her skin against his was slippery and soft. She was so very pretty.

"Thank you," he whispered.

She laughed. "You may not thank me tomorrow when your big brother catches up with you!"

"Mmm." He buried his face in her hair. "Let me be ta'en, let me be put to death, I am content, so wilt thou have it so."

"Pardon?"

"I have more care to stay than will to go! Come death, and…Malcolm! Georgiana wills it so!"

"I will no such thing!" she exclaimed. "What are you talking about?"

"It's Shakespeare," he said. ""'Romeo and Juliet'?"

"Ohh." She giggled and wrapped her arms around his neck. "Forgive me. I am not much for poetry."

"It's a play, actually." He grinned at her, and bent to kiss the corner of her mouth. With his tongue, he tasted the salt of her smooth cheek, continuing to lick and kiss down, along the curve of her jaw, into her hair, behind her ear. "Well," he murmured. "I suppose there is something I can teach you."

"You could," she said, and her fingers tangled in his hair as he moved even lower, sweeping his mouth over her breast. "But there is so little time…"

"I take your point," taking the rosy tip and a goodly portion of one plump little breast in his mouth, he drew heavily on it for a moment, and when she squeaked, he decided to experiment by flicking his tongue across the tender peak. And then his teeth.

She caught her breath. "You're very apt…but…I must warn you…I can be a---oh!---a demanding…governess!"

"Yes?" Emboldened, pleased with himself, he decided he would show no mercy and descended on the second sweet, delicious bosom, flicking and suckling and biting.

"Yes!" she gasped, arching under him. "I-I'll…not spare the rod!"

Now it was Archie's turn to giggle. Slyly, he rubbed himself against the inside of her thigh, letting her feel the fresh arousal that was already making itself known. "The rod," he said, raising his head and cocking an eyebrow at her. "Says 'do your worst'!"

"Oh, my," she whispered as her hand snaked down to fondle him gently. "Seventeen! Very well, darling, once more, but love, you should be going, it must be near dawn!"

"I'll say yon gray is not the morning's eye. 'Tis but the pale reflex of Cynthia's brow; nor that is not the lark whose notes do beat the vaulty heaven so high above our heads!"

"What?"

He sighed happily. "Never mind."

Go to Part Seven