In Service to the Senses (4 page)

He had been expecting somewhat more of a build-up and felt a pang of disappointment that he wouldn’t be able to show off his skill. Still, there would hopefully be a time for that later. His cock knew what it wanted and almost swayed towards her wet lips, pointing the way. Not even bothering to take off his breeches, he grabbed her hips, positioned himself, and drove in hard. He had to hold her back to stop her falling forward with the force of his thrust.

“Good boy. Damn it, you’re big. You fill me splendidly. I’d forgotten how much I adore getting to know a new cock, and yours, Frederick, is rather spectacular.” Lady Isabella took in slow, deep breaths, as if she was registering the feel and swell and bend of him. “Now, be a darling and don’t stop until I come screaming.”

So Frederick started again. Her cunt gripped him like nothing before. Was that what being a lady did to you? Were all toffs’ cunts as tight as their manners and emotions? He’d think about it later. Right now, all he wanted was to bury himself in her time and again, and he went at her feverishly. With every thrust forward, she moaned, the most perfect moan of pleasure. God, he loved that sound, and at length joined it with some of his own, cursing and groaning as his cock got fit to burst.

“That’s it, that’s it, that’s it. Fuck, you are magnificent,” she slurred as her body rocked back and forth on his pistoning shaft. There was something about a countess saying ‘fuck’ that made him want to explode instantly. “Don’t come before me, Frederick, don’t you dare come.”

He bit back his frustration and reached underneath to pluck and flick her clitoris.

“Ooh, clever darling. I am fucking, fucking close. Just keep pounding me.”

He went at her in a blur, wanting her come so he could let go himself. His balls were rock hard and smacked against her violently on each thrust forward.

“Yes, yes, yes!” She whined, then wailed, then screamed. And—fuck!—he felt it. Her cunt was clenching on him, and immediately he exploded, bursting long jolts of spunk hard and deep into Her Ladyship.

After her little pants of bliss had died away, he withdrew, noting the streaks of cum that were pulled out with him. “Fuck, that were something else, my lady.”

“It certainly was. What a clever thing you are. I look forward to your continued service, Frederick.”

Stupid arrogant bitch.
Still, his orgasm fresh in his mind, he could keep his opinions to himself.

“I didn’t even get to eat you out. My favourite.”

She glanced across at him. “Is it? A glorious cock and a nimble tongue. You know how to keep a lady happy.”

“I try my best, my lady…but I’m not Edward.” He spoke before realising. Fred stopped dead and glanced at her with fearful horror.

Her face was cold and set straight and for a moment he thought she’d dismiss him, but then a look of acceptance came over her and her expression softened. “That is all for now. You may go.” And she turned over on the bed and reached for a book.

Fred released the breath he was holding. He’d got away with it.
Perhaps best not to mention Edward again.

* * * *

When Edward returned from his trip with Lord Atherton, Frederick waited before setting out the details of his first week in service at Foresham, although his friend was dying to know. It wasn’t until the evening, alone in their room, that Edward finally asked.

“So…what’ve you been up to in my absence, Freddie boy?”

Fred just grinned—it was all the answer Edward needed. He dragged on his cigarette.

“Aye. Thought so. How long did it take?”

“She asked for me the afternoon you left.”

“Did you do it in her room?”

“Aye. She didn’t want me spunkin’ on her fine rug in the drawing room.”

Edward chuckled. “I’ve given her a right seeing-to on that rug. But then, I wouldn’t waste a drop. Full of me, she is. What did y’think?”

“She’s a good ‘un. As moist and hot as me nan’s plum pudding. Reckon she liked the size of me too.”

“Told you she would. You do move fast, don’t you, Fred?”

“Aye, she’s a fine fuck. But she missed you. She told me. I got the feeling she was only with me ‘cause you weren’t there.”

Edward fell silent then reached up to rub hard at the corner of his eye before turning over and stubbing out his cigarette.

“G’night, Fred.”

Chapter Four

Edward intended to catch Isabella the next day, but he couldn’t. She seemed distracted. It was often the case if the earl was at home. At three o’clock he noticed her asking Violet for her walking clothes. He watched from an upper window as she strode purposefully over the fields alone. She only did that when she was down—he knew her too well. His Lordship was busy with the estate and Edward was not needed. Putting on his boots, he decided to go for a walk.

He followed at a discreet distance, knowing she was probably heading for the pond on the western meadows. She’d told him she liked it there.

He caught up with her after a few minutes. She was sitting on a rock under a willow tree, tossing pebbles into the water. The ripples spread out before bouncing back on themselves, a never-ending circle, in and out. But above the noise of the water lapping at the banks was another. She was crying.

Edward stopped and instinctively took a few steps back. Staff were not supposed to see their masters distressed. They were not supposed to realise their weaknesses.

But this woman, as beautiful as the dragonflies darting about her, and as fragile, compelled him to stay. Something was burning inside.

He stepped out. “Isabella?”

She turned round with a gasp, clearly shocked to see him, and hid her face quickly. “What are you doing here? Go away. I wished to be alone. You of all people have no right to follow me. Leave or I shall tell Brewer.”

“Why’re you cryin’?”

“I’m not. Some grass seed blew into my eye, that is all.”

He paced over and gripped her in his arms, pulling her to her feet. “Why’re you cryin’? Who’s upset you?”

She looked at him, her eyes wide with shock, clearly surprised by his emotion. It surprised him too, but he could not suppress it. Now he could see the clear distress etched into her, his temper rose ever more forcefully. “Is it him? Is it that bastard husband of yours? If he’s upset you, if he’s hurt you, I’ll fuckin’ do ‘im.”

“Edward…” Her face had softened into a look of wonder. “I…missed you. I missed you so much.”

Then he was kissing her, hard and desperate, gripping her face and pulling her into him.

“I was so empty…so empty without you…I want you, I want you always.” She was scrabbling at his clothing, moaning and chanting her need. “Want to be full of you, please, please. I want to feel you, want to feel you on me and in me constantly. You remind me to live. Remind me again, remind me what life is…”

He pulled her towards the base of the willow and laid her down, kissing every part of her he could. Her skirts were up over her hips. His cock demanded entry but again he ignored his own needs, as he did so often with her. Pleasing this woman was a glory in itself. Her cunt was spread and craving him.

She grabbed for his hand and guided it towards her, wanting it deep. He dipped two of his fingers into her. So wet. Always so wet and open for him.

“More, more,” she moaned. “Fill me with you. Please, please, my darling.”

Edward glanced up, his brow creasing. There was such warmth coursing through him he could barely breathe, but he would do as she needed. He started to release his cock but stopped himself, an idea flittering into his brain. He stroked and coaxed over her sex. She was so pliant, so willing and hungry for him. He pressed his three middle fingers together and squeezed them into her. They were soon swallowed up with parting resistance. He worked them inside for a time, rejoicing in the sweet succulence of her flesh. Isabella moaned and threw her head to the side.

“Fill me, fill me…” She was almost delirious.

He withdrew only to shape his fingers like the head of a swan, pressing the tips close together and narrowing his hand as much as possible. He hadn’t done this in a while.

He nudged it into her. It sank with surprising ease up to the second knuckles, such was her wet pliancy. He glanced up. Isabella’s eyes were closed and little breaths were escaping her.

He pulled his hand back a little then pushed in again, further this time, slowly, feeling her cunt opening to him. He went deeper, so slowly, letting her register the full impact of stretch.

“What is that?” she murmured, not distressed, merely curious.

“Relax, my lady. Just feel me.”

Isabella glanced down. His hand was in her to the last knuckles, stretching her more than anything before.

“Oh…I…!” It was rare that she was shocked at anything, but the sight of her servant’s hand fast disappearing inside her rendered her speechless. But it was so good, and full and big and good. She lay back.

“Do you want me to stop?”

“No! No,” she almost sobbed. “Carry on. Can you? Can you carry on? It feels glorious. Oh, Edward, don’t stop. Put it all in me.”

He pulled out a little then pressed harder again, in, in, in, slowly, so slowly, his eyes, and hers, fixed on his entire fist disappearing inside her. Then, with a final suck and slip, it was in all the way. She stared down—only his wrist could be seen extending from her.

Isabella lay back, panting—short little gasps as her entire being clearly focused on the fist in her cunt. His fingers had closed around instinctively and now he flexed them, little ripples and strokes. He moved in and out, not a lot, but enough to reinforce his presence.

“Oh, oh, Edward.” He had never seen her so beside herself. When he thrashed her she often became incoherent, but this was different. They were connected like never before. Her face creased but pleasure was rising in her faster than ever, and soon enough she opened her mouth as her climax raged around his hand.

“Good?” he murmured.

She was barely able to form words. “Indescribable. All from inside…all…” Her orgasms were normally centred from that little magical bud he knew so well, even when he fucked her with his cock, but this one was propelled from her cunt itself.

Isabella gripped onto his wrist as it was jammed up into her, not wanting to relinquish him. “I can still feel it. Again, please, please, do it again.”

He flexed and pumped his hand within her, building and building it. It didn’t take long. She came again spectacularly, this time wailing out so rapturously a flock of starlings flew up from a nearby fir.

“Fuck, Isabella, I can feel that too. You’re amazing, you’re fucking incredible.” Still his hand worked her, still she rejoiced in her impalement on his arm.

She came again within a minute.

Four times Edward drew such extreme pleasure from her that he wondered if she could take it. Each time he felt the strength of her coming clench upon his fist. After the fourth orgasm she was so limp, so drained from constant rapture that he thought it best to withdraw. Carefully and exquisitely slowly, he pulled his hand out. It was soaked with her juices.

He glanced up. She had drifted off to sleep. Edward gazed at her. In sleep, gone were the aristocratic airs and pinched expression of superiority. In sleep, she was as human as him. Isabella. He bent over and kissed her before lying down and placing an arm around her. His cock was still rock hard, but there were, occasionally, more important things.

A short time later she awoke with a start, sitting up with a gasp. “What, my lady?” he asked instinctively.

“Edward…it must be late. What time is it?”

He glanced about. The position of the sun suggested around five o’clock. He stood quickly. “We’d best be getting back. Fuck. The Earl’ll be furious.”

“Oh well. We’re used to that.” She smiled, taking hold of his hand and letting him pull her to her feet. “That was nice.”

“Just nice?”

“Very nice.”

“Oh, come now, my lady, you can do better than that.”

“Exquisite.”

“And?”

“Incredible.”

“And?”

“Unforgettable. Divine. Magnificent.”

“You were coming like Stephenson’s Rocket, my lady.”

“It was the best I’ve ever had, Edward.” She stepped in and stroked down his cheek, whispering against his lips, “The best I’ve ever had.”

He cocked a dark eyebrow. “How did you keep yerself busy when I was away?”

“You know how. You sanctioned it.”

“Did I?”

“Yes. I wouldn’t have done it if you hadn’t.”

“You weren’t always like that. Nothing stopped you before.”

“I know.”

“So what’s different now?”

She eyed him but gave no answer. “Come along. We must both be getting back.”

They walked peacefully as the sun lowered and cast a deep burnished glow over the landscape. At one point Isabella let out a soft giggle.

“What, my lady?”

“This. You and I. Like village sweethearts.”

“Do you like that idea, my lady?”

Her face grew distant. “I can’t like any idea of the sort. I am the Countess of Atherton. I do not imagine such things.”

“You could. Just this once.”

She gave him a little smirk. “So…what would village sweethearts do when out for a walk?”

“Well…they might…hold hands.”

She laughed again, a genuine warm laugh that poured from her. It was the sweetest sound he’d ever heard.

“Ladies do not ‘hold hands’. Not with their sisters or their cousins or their husbands.”

“Well, I’m none of those, my lady.” And he held his hand out for her.

Isabella gave him a weary look of incredulity. He kept his hand out, the same hand that had been inside her earlier. Then, slowly, she slipped her fingers through his and together they walked back through the woods.

He couldn’t remember a time he’d been so happy.

* * * *

There were raised voices that Friday. The Earl, it was said, was in one of his moods. The staff knew to lie low. But not Edward. Lord Atherton might be his boss, but he still hated the bastard.