Chapter 5

Charles whistled as he ascended the steps of Rotherford Hall.

With a brief nod of thanks to the footman who had opened the terrace door, Charles tossed his gloves and hat on the nearest table. The old manor was filled to the brim with priceless artifacts that his father had collected over the years.

One would not be surprised to come across a Ming Dynasty vase or even a Faberge egg. Suits of armor lining the halls had been rumored to have been worn when William the Conqueror ruled England.

The Rotherford name was linked to the Duke of Normandy, after the battle of Hastings. Each servant was groomed to know their position and deportment and the family's history.

So, when Charles tossed his things, causing a rare and priceless snuff box and opera glasses to go sailing off the table, the young footman blanched.

Rushing over, he was assured that it hadn't broken. But to the footman's surprise, Master Charles did not even bat an eyelash.

He went merrily along his way, oblivious to his surroundings. He walked into the furniture twice, even causing a lamp to wobble precariously.

The young footman had never seen Master Charles act this way.

Fortunately for the footman, he was not the only witness to this bizarre behavior.

Robert sat near the fire, watching the scene develop much like a play, with a slight smile.

Sitting opposite his brother, Spencer had completely abandoned his Latin textbook and watched with a gaping mouth as his slightly elder brother whistled himself out the door and up the front staircase.

"What the bloody hell was that?" Spencer asked when Charles was finally out of sight.

Robert pondered things for a moment. Being the eldest of the boys, he felt he knew his brothers well. But this new, clumsy, and possibly love-struck puppy was a stranger to him. His smile deepened.

"He's in love," Robert said, still pondering the odd behavior.

"With whom," Spencer replied, looking around as if the object of his brother's affection would pop out of the woodwork.

"I know you won't believe me," Robert grinned, "but I think Charles is in love with CeCe."

Spencer laughed aloud, "You've got to be kidding? She's like our sister, Robby. Isn't that a bit incestuous?"

Robert joined in the laughter, "I guarantee you he feels nothing brotherly about her. However, if I'm right, she may very well turn into our sister if they tie the parson's knot."

"So, what's our plan then?" Spencer said with a sly grin. "Surely you will think of a splendid idea to show our... erm support."

"Naturally," Robert tapped his bottom lip, thinking. "I don't think it would behoove us to show our hand too early."

"I get what you're thinking," Spencer thought momentarily. "They say the path to true love never did run smoothly."

"What's going on in that devious mind, brother? Get on with it, man!" Robert encouraged.

"I say we give the love birds more opportunity to be alone together, nothing to compromise CeCe, mind you. But think of this: if she happens to be over helping me reorganize my study library…."

Robert's eyes lit up, "And if I happen to call you away for some estate business…."

"And we happen to ask Charles to keep her company for a moment…." Spencer added.

"And the wind swings the door shut, logging it tight so it's near impossible to open!" Robert said smugly.

"It is a rather fine plan," Spencer added gleefully, picking up his glass of rum. "I propose a toast to the soon-to-be-married brother and a toast to our excellent matchmaking skills."

Robert grabbed his glass and raised it, "All's fair in love and war! To Charles, may he live happily ever after with CeCe, and may we tease the living daylights out of him in the process."

Spencer chuckled with amusement, clinking his brother's glass and drinking it all. Truth be told, he was thrilled it wasn't him. This was going to be fun.

***

Unaware of his brother's machinations, Charles undressed and got into bed.

He slept naked, the same way he always had slept since he'd been a young child in the nursery.

He thought about his brothers telling CeCe the story about when they'd locked him out of his bedchamber when he was thirteen, buck naked.

The poor housekeeper, Mrs. Simms, still could not look him in the eye to this day.

Thinking about CeCe brought that familiar rush of warmth, starting in his breast and encompassing his entire body.

He thought of their shared kiss. How tender and sweet her lips and breath had been against his own. How many years had he fantasized about having, holding, and kissing her?

She surpassed every made-up expectation he'd had and more. Charles felt his shaft stiffen, a usual occurrence if CeCe were near or if he'd been thinking of her.

Reaching down, he grasped himself firmly, wishing above all else that it was her hands holding him, her moans and cries in his ears as he parted her delicious folds and licked up every drop of passion.

He would know how she tasted in her core. He would see her spent, all because of him. Oh, what could he do and would do to show her how he cared?

And just maybe she might want to sink to her knees and take his burning shaft into her perfect hot mouth, closing those peach lips around him and sucking.

He shot off, and the ribbons of pleasure coursed through him. Thinking of her always brought him to completion.

Spent, he took the small towel by the basin and cleaned his cock and stomach where his seed had landed.

Tonight, he had gotten his first taste of physically loving CeCe. And just like an addict, he worried he would never get enough.

**

Later that evening…

"Good evening, Charles," a voice suddenly interrupted his thoughts. Charles quickly covered himself with the linen and turned to see CeCe standing in the doorway, looking surprised but not at all displeased.

"CeCe, I didn't hear you come in," Charles stammered, feeling embarrassed at being caught in such a vulnerable moment.

"I hope I'm not intruding," CeCe said with a mischievous smile, walking closer to the bed. "But it seems like you were quite preoccupied with something."

Charles blushed furiously, trying to compose himself. "I...I was just...thinking," he managed to say, his heart racing at the sight of her so close.

"Mmm, Charles," CeCe purred, her voice a sultry incantation breaking the silence. Her fingers delicately caressed his taut abdomen, resting just below his belly button. A shiver of anticipation ran down his spine, and his breath hitched in exhilaration.

Oh yes, he thought, the evening was just getting started. He reached over to cup her cheek, brushing his thumb along her soft lips. His other hand started exploring her body through the thin fabric of her night dress. God, she was as intoxicating as ever.

"CeCe...," Charles growled lowly, the carnal desire evident in his voice. He could feel his manhood throbbing against his bed coverings, aching for her touch. The sight of her naked body pressed against the thin material was driving him insane.

"Patience, darling," she whispered teasingly into his ear before nipping at the lobe lightly. With each word that left her rosy lips, the scent of her vanilla perfume filled his senses, intoxicating and addictive.

With skilled fingers, she traced the edge of his blanket before dipping inside to liberate him from the constraint. His already rigid length sprung free, heat radiating off it with an intensity that made CeCe gasp softly.

He watched as his pulsing member was enveloped by her slender fingers. She slowly stroked up and down, applying slight pressure just where he liked it—on that sweet spot right beneath the head.

His hips instinctively bucked against her touch as pleasure inundated him in waves. Fireworks exploded behind his closed eyelids whenever she applied more pressure or quickened her pace slightly.

Seeing him lose control stirred something primal within CeCe—the thrill of being able to dismantle this man piece by piece was irresistible. Her mouth descended on his chest while one hand continued its sensual torture.

Her teeth grazed a nipple, causing him to buck under her. The slight bite of pain only served to increase his arousal. He felt like every nerve ending in his body had been set ablaze.

With his hand tangling into her hair, he guided her face up to meet his, their eyes locking. And then he kissed her - a deep, toe-curling kiss that rivaled the erotic dance their bodies were performing.

As she continued to stroke him with an almost maddening pace, Charles couldn't take it any longer—the desire coursing through him needed release.

"CeCe…" He moaned helplessly against her lips as he erupted in waves of pleasure. His grip tightened around her waist, anchoring himself as he rode out the tides.

Panting and spent but infinitely satisfied, Charles awakened to find that it had all been a dream. Embarrassed that he'd soiled his sheets like an untried youth, he rose from his bed and quickly changed the linens to hide any evidence of his late-night indiscretion. As he dressed, he couldn't help but feel a twinge of disappointment at the realization that his heart's desire might never truly be his.

He stared into the flames of the dying hearth fire before retiring to his wardrobe to change into clean pajamas. He couldn't help but wish his exhilarating adventure had been a reality and not a vivid fantasy. As he laid his weary head back down on the pillow, he comforted himself with the thought that tomorrow was another day, and with CeCe by his side, who knew what real-life adventures it might bring?

As Charles drifted off to sleep once more, the faintest of smirks played across his lips, the remnants of a fevered dream still dancing behind his closed eyes.