Chapter 14

CHAPTER14

While Genevra resisted Garmon’s desire to take over control of her life, she saw no reason to resist his drugging kisses tonight. It was their last night together, she wanted desperately for it to be something special and memorable, as each night had been for the past week. She wanted to be able to take a piece of him with her. To comfort her in the lonely nights ahead. Having experienced this closeness, this warmth and pleasure, how was she to do without it?

He drew her down onto that big, comfortable looking couch, and kissed her until they were both breathless and her body was tingling with desire, her nipples taught and the place between her legs full and damp. He bore her back into the cushions so that they lay full length upon the couch, and she expected him to begin ravishing her body. Instead, he tucked her head into his chest and rested his cheek against her hair, his arms holding her close against him.

The fire crackled, the clock on the mantelpiece ticked and his heart beat a steady thud under her ear. She subsided into his embrace and closed her eyes. Suddenly ineffably weary. She could go to sleep like this, in his arms, warm and safe. So tempting...

For a moment her heart squeezed with longing and tears pricked her eyes. She swallowed the lump that rose in her throat. If only she could keep this moment forever, frozen in time. She nestled her face closer, the cloth of his coat slightly rough against her cheek, his scent, sandalwood and spice in her nostrils. The firm, comforting grip of his arms holding her close. This was as close to bliss as she was going to get.

“Genevra?”

“Hmm?”

“I didn’t expect this when we signed that contract seven nights ago.”

“Neither did I,” she admitted, nuzzling her face into his shoulder.

He shifted, so that he could see her face, lifting her chin with his finger. “I don’t want this to end, do you?”

“It must.” she said.

“Why?”

She shook her head. “We made an agreement. Seven nights in exchange for a stay of execution on the debt my husband incurred.”

“I’ll absolve you of the debt.” Her heart contracted with that thought. To be rid of the debt? What a relief that would be. But at what cost?

“In exchange for what?”

“This,” he waved between them. “Indefinitely.” Ah, no. Nothing lasted forever. And when she had given him her heart and her soul, he would grow tired of her and cast her off, like old stockings. Her heart quailed at the thought. She’d had enough pain to last a lifetime. She couldn’t court anymore.

“Until you grow tired of me?” She kept her voice light. He would never know how tempted she was.

“Until we grow tired of each other?” There! There was the proof, if she ever needed it. He was only amusing himself. He might seem obsessed, but it was a passing fancy.

She shook her head again. “No.” She would no more be a mistress than a wife. In either role she surrendered control of her life into a man’s hands.

Never again.

“Why not?”

Because you’ll break my heart.“Because we made a bargain. It’s been a wonderful interlude. Don’t ruin it by trying to extend what shouldn’t be extended.”

This time it was he that stiffened. “You truly mean that?”

She closed her eyes against the prick of tears that threatened. “Yes.”

He was still a moment, and she wondered desperately what he would do. Would he become angry and throw her out? Was their perfect night ruined? Their week of decadent indulgence over?

“I don’t believe you,” he said softly. And she felt the press of his lips to the corner of her eye, where a traitorous tear threatened to escape. Don’t do this Garmon. Don’t make it harder than it already is.

“Please, Garmon...” she opened her eyes to see him gazing at her, his eyes glittering green as emeralds in the firelight, his expression hard to read.

“Please what?” he asked leaning in. “What do you want, Genevra?”

“Just to enjoy our last night together. To store up memories.” She smiled, wanly, stroking his cheek with a finger. His skin was smooth, he had shaved for her. She fought the urge to melt.

“Memories?” He kissed her eyebrow. She sighed.

“It’s been a wonderful week.” she said arching her neck as his lips skimmed the sensitive skin below her ear. “Let’s not pretend it’s more than it is.” She closed her eyes, and swallowed a moan as his teeth nibbled her earlobe, his hot breath sending shivers over her skin. God, how was she going to live without this?

He withdrew and she opened her eyes in alarm. He was standing, removing his coat and neckcloth. In the next instant he stooped and lifted her in his arms. “If it’s memories you want, memories you shall have, Mrs Tate.”

She clungto him as he carried her into the bedchamber and set her on her feet. His heart thudded hard in his chest as his hands came to rest on her waist. Her resolve to make this their last night together only strengthened his determination to find some way to extend their arrangement. But clearly a direct approach was not going to work, so something more subtle was called for. Garmon was not a man to give up easily. When he wanted something, he always got it. And he wanted Genevra Tate.

He shied away from examining too closely what that actually meant. He just knew the prospect of a night without her in his bed, in his arms, left him with a cold, hollow feeling in his belly. It was unpleasant and truth to tell, a bit alarming. How had this woman, in only seven nights, become so essential to his peace of mind that he could not contemplate being apart from her with anything approaching equanimity?

Pushing the disturbing thoughts aside, he drew her into his arms and kissed her, his lips skimming hers and then exploring deeper, taking possession with his tongue, his mouth. His hands on her, possessive and owning. She was his, whether she knew it or not.

She responded to his kiss, pressing closer, her arms wrapping round him, her hands pushing up under his waistcoat, warm through the fabric of his shirt. Her hands on him were an unexpected comfort. She wanted him still, despite her refusal to countenance an extension of their liaison.

Her refusal of his offer to absolve her of the debt, surprised and frustrated him. Why would she hang onto a debt when she didn’t need to? It made no sense. She had enough problems to deal with, without worrying over how she was to pay him back for a debt incurred by a man who had abused and hurt her.

His feelings on the matter threatened to boil over, but she had asked for memories, and he had promised them. He must put aside the vexed question of her debt for the moment and give her what she asked for. Plenty of time to address the issue later, when she was more amenable.

He pulled her closer and focused on the kiss, on the pleasure of her mouth and body pressed to his. There was a rightness to having her in his arms, that went beyond the fevered surge in his blood, the aching hardness she stirred in his cock, the tingling bliss of her lips on his.

Did she feel it too? Perhaps not, if she was so determined to end things?

His lips traced a line down her throat to the hollow at the base between her collar bones. Breathing in her scent, he tried to stem the thoughts dancing in his head, poking him with unwelcome ideas. Gardenia and vanilla. She was delicious.

She leaned away from him to give him better access to her throat and bosom, and he grazed one pert nipple with a finger through the fabric of her gown. Her nipples entranced him, so sensitive she jerked and moaned at the lightest touch. He recalled making her come by playing with them and his cock pulsed. Now there was a memory.

He reached for the lacing of her dress, and she reached for the buttons on his waistcoat. Her scent wreathed his senses and his cock jumped. He pulled the bow and loosened her bodice; she undid his buttons. He paused a moment in anticipation. Then he pushed her gown off her shoulders, and she pushed his waistcoat off his. He let his arms drop and shook the waistcoat off, impatient to touch her, feel her.

His hands came back to her waist and his lips to hers. Another teasing kiss, deepening to something more. He held her against him, her breasts warm through the fabric of his shirt. He dropped his gaze to the creamy swell of her bosom overflowing the top of her stays, spilling out of her chemise. So beautiful, so tempting his mouth watered. His hands cupped the warm round mounds and kneaded them gently, his fingers finding her nipples and teasing. She gasped and arched her neck, her eyes closing. Those sensitive nipples again.

He made short work of removing her stays and pushed her chemise to her waist, where her petticoat cinching in, caught it. Her breasts revealed to his sight were every bit as wonderful as he remembered. And she wanted him to be content with a memory only, after this?

She shook her arms free and reached for his shirt to pull it free of his trousers. Yet she was as frantic to get to him as he was to get to her.

He helped her pull it off over his head, and she set her hands on his chest, leaning in to nuzzle the hair on his chest with her cheek. He loved it when she did that, rubbing on him like a cat. She turned her head and licked his nipple then nipped it with her lips, making him twitch with surprise. Oh woman!

She grinned up at him and did the same to the other one. Her hands on him were warm and right. He reached for the tie of her petticoat and pulled it free, petticoat and chemise fell to the floor, revealing her naked, except for her stockings. Venus personified. His cock lengthened and stiffened to its full upright extent inside his trousers. She tugged at his falls, slipping her fingers through the buttons swiftly. Her fingers grazed him, making him jump and catch his breath, so sensitive to her touch. Then she attacked the buttons of the waistband with equal ferocity, and she had his trousers down to his knees. Her impatience made his blood surge.

When she dropped to her knees and took him in her hand, he gasped with surprise and pleasure. She reefed him gently root to tip, and then her mouth engulfed him in wet heat, her lips stretched round his shaft, her tongue sliding against the head and the underside of his cock, making him groan.

“Genevra!”

He hadn’t expected this.His body suffused with hot desire as he looked down at her. Her lips moved up and down from the cap to part way down his shaft and back, her tongue working the underside with expert ease. The sensations took his breath, and her eyes danced, as she held his gaze while she did it.

“Minx!” he moaned. “You’re enjoying this.

She nodded and kept up the playful sweep of her tongue and the plunge of her mouth to take as much of him as she could.

He closed his eyes a moment to indulge the sensation, the pleasure building in his groin. It was good. Too good. She’d ruin him for further play, if he didn’t stop her. His breath stuttered on another groan, as he thrust his hips forward into her mouth, once, twice.

Enough!He pulled gently free of her grip, his hands on her head. “Stop sweetheart, I want more of you than a quick spill in your mouth, as delicious as it is.”

“Are you sure? I was enjoying that.”

“So was I! Too much.” He lifted her up and kissed her deeply, relishing the press of her bare form against his half naked body. He pulled back and got rid of his trousers and shoes, then knelt to remove her stockings, kissing the flesh as it was revealed, first one thigh and then the other. Helping her out of her stockings and shoes, he ran his tongue up her inner thigh to the apex and kissed her wiry copper curls, a darker red than the hair on her head.

His tongue speared her lips, and she uttered a soft moan that made him shudder with sharp lust. Fuck he wanted her. It seemed an age since last night. A flash of thrusting in her as she bent over the chair, staring out blindly at the stage, seeing nothing in front of him, only feeling her tight wet heat and the building blissful tension in his groin. He’d been so angry last night and fucking her had fixed his mood, made him happy and relaxed.

He spread her legs with his knees and her lips with his fingers, he licked her, nuzzling his tongue until she jerked and cried out. Holding her still on his tongue, he ravished her until she was panting and her hips writhing helplessly.

He looked up, breathing hard himself. “Do you feel empty love? You want something to fill you up?” His voice was gravelly with desire. He desperately wanted to fuck her. Again. Always.

“Yes,” she gasped. “Please, Garmon, fuck me. Take me. I want-” He rose so swiftly at this command that he cut her off, taking her mouth with a brutal kiss. Yes! His body reacted to her demand with a hard throb of need. Fuck yes!

Sweeping her up into his arms, he tossed her on the bed and clambered on top of her. Pushing her legs apart with his knees he positioned himself and forced his way into her body with one hard brutal thrust. She must have developed a taste for it last night. And God help him he wanted her that way too!

“That what you want?” his voice was hoarse, his body convulsed with desire, deeply triggered by her demands.

“Yes! Yes! Please! Oh, God!” She arched under him, and he hammered her to the bed with swift hard strokes. His body reacted to her pleas with uncontrolled passion.

She writhed under him, tearing her pleasure from him, and he gave her all of his. His mouth ravaged hers, his hands held hers above her head, pinned her beneath him as he fucked her hard. The pleasure rose and rose, a tight knot of building desire, forced upwards like a spigot of water in a narrow channel, until his need, his desperate need, long suppressed, burst out of him with a grunting groan and his body fought to give her everything in him, that he had to give. Everything.

He felt her reach her own apex with a hoarse cry, and they trembled together at the glorious precipice and tumbled over with an explosive fall, everything pouring out of him with the force of his repeated ejaculations.

He gave her more than his seed, something essential left his chest and flowed into her that he had kept tightly bound and locked away, the flame of himself, deep hidden, and he surrendered it with a groan and a whimper.

The excoriation left him shattered, scoured, emptied out and lighter than air. In the place of darkness, a subtle joy pervaded his body, more than the natural bliss of the aftermath, this lifted his heart and spirit.

He lay on her, as he came back to himself slowly, a peculiar sense of wholeness pervading his soul that filled him with a numinous joy.

Finally, he lifted his head and stroked a lock hair off her face tenderly and kissed her a soft feather-light brush of the lips. He had no words for what had just happened, he didn’t understand it. She lay staring up at him, and they held each other’s gaze for the longest time. There was pain in her eyes, a shadow he couldn’t get past. His heart ached. Her lids lowered first, and he felt a slight shiver pass over his skin.

He opened his mouth to say something, he wasn’t sure what, and she shook her head as if shaking off something.

“What?” he asked.

She shook her head again, closing her eyes. “Is that how a fuck is supposed to feel?” She asked.

He grinned recalling his own words that first time on his desk.

“Yes. Mrs Tate that is how a fuck is supposed to feel.”

She snorted and giggled. The giggles turned to laughter, and she lay laughing helplessly beside him. He watched her bemused for a few moments, but the laughter was so infectious he was soon joining her, and some little while later, they both lay with tears of laughter streaming from their eyes, hiccoughing and snorting with the last remnants of mindless mirth.

“What -” he stopped and tried again. “What was that about?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know!” and she turned her head into the pillow wailing with another round of giggles. “Please, please stop!” she said. “My st-omach hurts!”

“I’m not doing anything,” he protested. “It’s all you!”

She flopped back on the pillows, taking a few deep breaths in an effort to calm herself. Finally, she said, “Oh that was good?”

“Which, the fuck or the laugh?”

She snorted and swallowed, letting out a breath. “Both, you wretched man!’

“Good, I’m glad you think so. I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

She shook her head. “No not a bit. It was very good.”

He propped himself up on his arm and looked down at her. “Good. I think we both needed that. Do we get too serious?”

She nodded. “Yes, I think we do.”

He smiled and bent down to kiss her. “Would you like some wine?”

“Yes, thank you.” He fetched the wine and a cloth to mop up, and they made themselves comfortable amongst the pillows. Absently he noted that the usual tension in his shoulders was gone, his body felt light and relaxed, a hum of something he vaguely recognised as joy pervaded his veins.

“If you were debt free, what would you do?”

“Start my own brewery,” she responded with a smile.

“How would you go about that?” he asked, curious.

“I would start with just enough to sell in the tap, and hopefully, if the brew was good enough, we would be selling enough to replace Whittaker’s within a year.” She took a sip of wine. “Once we had a reputation, I would start to offer it to other public houses and build from there.”

“Do you know how much it would cost?”

She nodded. “To the shilling. I know where to source the ingredients, what equipment we would need, how much we would need to invest before showing a profit, how much to charge, how many staff I would need, and how to grow the business. My father taught me well.”

“I don’t doubt.” He drank his wine thoughtfully. “So, all you need is a business partner to provide the investment.”

She shook her head. “No. I’ll do it myself.”

“How?”

“Once I’m clear of the debts I owe, the money I have been paying towards them will go to my brewery investment fund. I would hope to have enough set aside in a year or two to begin buying the equipment and ingredients. Remember, I am going to start slow and small and grow from there.”

“But with an investment partner, you wouldn’t need to wait that long.”

“With an investment partner I wouldn’t own the profits. I’d have to pay back the investment before I could grow the business.” She took a generous mouthful of wine. “I’d still be in debt. And my investment partner would probably push me to grow faster than I wanted to, because he,” she paused for emphasis, “would want a greater and faster return on his money.”

“You’ve really thought about this, haven’t you?” he said refusing to rise to the obvious bait. This was an argument best saved for another time.

“Yes. For years.”

He took her glass and put both on the bedside table.

“You’re not going to try to convince me?” She asked.

“Not right now, no,” he said, taking her in his arms. Clearly pushing the subject now would end in another argument. “There are other things I’d rather be doing.” And he kissed her. After a bit he moved to her neck and thence to her bosom and specifically her nipples.

“There’s a memory,” he said raising his head, “I’d like to recreate.”

She sighed as he went back to suckling a nipple. “What is that?” She arched her back, pressing into his mouth.

“I think you know,” he said, cupping the other breast and pinching the nipple gently.

She moved her legs restlessly. “Hmm, perhaps.”

“Except this time, you’re going to sit on my cock while I play with your ladies.”

“I am?” she said breathlessly.

“Mm huh,” he said, his mouth occupied with her breast.

“Are you recovered enough already?”

“For that, yes, feel.” He moved her hand to his groin, where she stroked his firming cock.

“Ha,” she said on an exhalation. “It is always a wonder to me how something so hard can feel so velvety to touch.”

He chuckled. “You feel like wet satin.”

“Hm, I suppose.”

“Come here,” he sat up, pulling her across to straddle him. When she was in place, he said, “Guide me into you. If you’re ready?”

She nodded and grasped his cock firmly, guiding him to the right place to enter her body. Sinking down on him, she closed her eyes and let out a soft sound of pleasure. He allowed himself a reciprocal groan, she felt so good, tight and hot and so wet.

When she was settled, his hands wandered to her waist and buttocks and back to her breasts, as he increased his suckling of first one breast and then the other. She rode him slowly, her hips rolling, her hands running over his chest and shoulders. She kissed his hair, her hands reaching round to stroke the nape of his neck.

He groaned, the sensation sending shivers down his spine. He redoubled his efforts on her breasts, licking, sucking, biting gently, his hand working the other breast in counterpoint to his mouth. Swapping sides regularly, listening to her breathing and feeling her body clenching and grinding on his. The feelings this aroused in him were exquisite. His cock firm enough for the purpose initially, hardened, pleasure gathering in his groin, and he fought the urge to abandon the breast play to thrust his hips up into her.

She clenched whimpering and rolling her hips faster, her breathing erratic. “Garmon,” she moaned.

He suckled harder, tweaked more firmly, his tongue laving her nipples first one then the other in frantic time with the roll of her hips and the cadence of her breath.

She was clenching repeatedly now, and his cock was on fire, the urge to thrust overwhelming. Come! He willed her. Come Genevra, so I can fuck you properly. His hips twitched upwards, unable to remain completely still, a growl of frustration escaped his throat, his breathing through his nose like a bellows.

She flung her head back, clenching on him fiercely and keened to the canopy, stiffening and shuddering as the orgasm took her. She gasped collapsing forward on him, and he wrapped his arms round her, squeezing her close.

“Good?” he murmured hoarsely.

“Oh yes, very intense, my nipples are so sensitised now.”

He huffed a laugh that became a groan, as she shifted on him, clenching again.

“Genevra, I have to–please.” He rolled her beneath him and surged into her with a deep firm thrust, groaning with relief at being able to move.

She smiled up at him, stroked his hair off his face and wrapped her arms round him. “Please take what you need,” she said softly, rolling her hips up to meet his downward thrust.

Four strokes later he groaned again as the pleasure began to spiral upward, and he rode the wave to its cresting point and over, feeling her swept up with him. He descended with a swoop of explosive pleasure, this time continuing to thrust even past the point of release, as aftershocks continued to wring pleasure from his body for some minutes. He finally came to a stop and lay bathed in a blissful stillness, relaxed and lazily content.

She stroked his back and kissed his hair. He absorbed these gestures of affection into his body like a sponge soaking up water. Peace pervaded his whole being, and he couldn’t move. He never wanted to move again. Never wanted to be separated again.

Genevra lay listeningto her own heartbeat, feeling him relax into her. She hugged him close and closed her eyes, trying not to think what this was, just absorb it into her body as a visceral memory.

They lay, still joined and entwined for an endless period of peace, and she thought that perhaps they both hovered on the margins of sleep, certainly of deep relaxation.

When he finally stirred and lifted his head his expression was so softened, she almost didn’t recognise him. All his hard edges seemed blurred, his eyes, greenish hazel regarded her with a light she had never seen before, the usual tension in his jaw and around his eyes was gone. She had never registered that tension before because it was native to his face, without it, he looked much younger. A gentle smile curved his lips, and he raised a hand to stroke a curl off her cheek and cupped her jaw tenderly.

Her heart swelled, and she felt that slippery slope getting closer. Her footing was precarious and the temptation to fling herself over the edge and fly was overwhelming. For a moment she hovered, wanting to dive and swoop and ride the current, but the ever present and insidious fear sent out tendrils and her heart trembled with sudden apprehension. She closed her eyes, blocking out the sight of him, so perilously tempting. She must not surrender. If she surrendered control, she would be lost. At his mercy. Despite how much she yearned to trust him, her experience screamed at her to back away.

“Don’t hide from me Genevra,” he said softly.

“I must.” She swallowed the traitorous tears that threatened.

He sighed, and she felt his lips press against her forehead, warm and tingling. “Memories, sweetheart,” he murmured.

“Huh,” she huffed, through a clogged throat and squeezed her arms, legs and inner muscled in an involuntary hug.

He groaned softly, burying his face in her neck. “Genie, you’ll make me hard again if you do that.”

“Really?”

“Hmm.” His warm breath puffed against her ear, sending a tingle down her back. “It’s a technique the girls used to use to hurry a client along or bring him to full power if he was struggling.”

“The girls? Oh, in the brothel?”

“Uhuh.”

She clenched again and he moaned.

“I had no idea,” she murmured.

“You know I can feel when you’re about to climax when I’m inside you,” he said.

“You can?”

“Yes, something changes, and I can feel something inside you caress the head of my cock. It’s incredibly arousing for me.”

“Oh. What happens when I do this?” she clenched again.

“Ahh. Something similar, all along my length. It’s most like when you have me in your mouth, and you suck hard.”

“Ohh.” She clenched again. “What happens if I keep doing it?”

“Find out,” he said, nipping her ear.

She laughed. “Alright.” This at least was safer than him looking at her with that light of infatuation. That expression that tempted her to throw caution to the winds. She squeezed, remembering his commands to her to squeeze him in Queen Anne’s bath. He had begged her then. She smiled with the memory. She rather liked it when he begged.

“Genevra!”he groaned as she squeezed and squeezed with rhythmic force. Her arms and legs surrounding him as her inner muscles milked him. In counterpoint to her squeezes, he pulled back and thrust in, pleasure gathering in his groin. He couldn’t surely climax again so quickly, but the pleasure was enticing and intense to his sensitised cock, so he kept doing it.

When the climax came it rolled through him a like a wave, her body pulled him though the wavelets of pleasure, extracting every last drop of sensation with the relentless squeeze and release of her flesh surrounding his. The quality was different, not so explosive, but more holistic as his whole body participated. It left him tingling from his scalp to the soles of his feet, his muscles lax and his mind blank.

When his flesh finally softened, he shifted position, disengaging gently and drew her close against him, snuggling into her, his head on her bosom. She held him, her hands stroking his hair and he slipped over the edge into a deep sleep.

Genevra listenedto his steady breathing and sighed gently. This would be so hard to give up. She rebelled briefly, wondering why she had to give up something so wonderful. But the voice in her head reminded her of the consequences of surrendering control. She closed her eyes against the tears that threatened and swallowed hard. Her hands clenched briefly, and she breathed through it, forcing herself to relax. Weariness flooded her body and she slept.

When she wokeit was just before dawn, judging from the grey light seeping through the curtains, and he was crawling back into bed. Shadowy in the half light, he pulled her close, his skin chilled from being out of bed.

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” he said softly against her hair.

She tipped her head back. “It’s alright. I think that was the best few hours’ sleep I’ve had in a while.”

“Yes, I think so too.” He smiled. “I was very relaxed.”

“Hmm.” She rested her head on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart.

“Go back to sleep.” He tucked her in against him, and she sighed, relaxing.

Garmon heldher and watched the dawn creep through the curtains. Nothing had ever felt so good as falling asleep in her arms, snuggled into her generous bosom. Was it some remnant memory from childhood? He was a man grown, not a child. He hadn’t been a child for a very long time. Yet the ache, the longing for the comfort that he had found in her arms, made him shuffle down the bed until he could nuzzle into her body once more with a deep sigh of contentment. In her sleep she accommodated him, letting him rest his head on her bosom and hold her close.

It was full light went he woke again to the feel of her hands stroking his hair. He lay still, savouring the feeling of contentment, afraid that if he moved, she would stop.

Eventually she said softly, “I’ll have to go soon. It must be near six o’clock.”

“We have an hour yet, before we need to get up. I said eight remember?”

“You did.”

“Will you let me love you one more time?”

“Have you anything left?”

He lifted his head, reluctant to leave the pillow of her bosom. “I don’t know, but I want to try.”

She sighed and stretched, languorous as a cat. “If you want,” she said with a lazy smile.

He kissed her bosom, holding both breasts in his hands, drinking in her scent. Cupping them he licked first one nipple then the other and, suckling until he got a reaction, a little grunt and an arching of her back. Satisfied she was awake enough to respond to his attentions, he moved down her body until he could lick between her legs. She was salty and musky, and his tongue sought out her bud and made her squirm.

Applying himself to her pleasure he worked her with his tongue until she was panting and clutching the sheets, her thighs spread wide and trembling. Raising his head to look up over the curve of her belly and the valley between her rising and falling breasts, he said husky voiced, “Will you let me take you from behind? I promise to stop if it’s too much.”

She looked down at him and nodded. He smiled and kissed her inner thigh, biting the flesh gently with his teeth. Rising to his knees he flipped her onto her stomach, placing a pillow under her belly. He craved this position, and he wanted her to enjoy it, not be afraid of it. She had tolerated it the first time because she was so aroused, she was beyond feeling the fear, but she wasn’t in that state now. Could she bear it, or would she stop him?

He nudged her knees further apart and leaned over her back, pushing her hair aside he kissed the nape of her neck and shoulders and kissed his way down her spine. She murmured something, arching her back. He smiled his lips tingling from contact with her smooth skin, his nostrils full of her scent.

He moved lower reaching her tail bone where he kissed and licked the spot then blew on it. She shuddered and made a noise of appreciation and protest. He massaged her bottom gently and then slid his fingers between her cheeks, all the way to her centre where he entered her with two fingers. She was plenty wet enough to take this treatment easily and he worked his fingers in her firmly. With his other hand he sought her nub of pleasure and encouraged her towards release.

She writhed beneath him, panting and moaning in a way that suggested she was enjoying this more than he had hoped. When he judged he had her on the edge he withdrew his fingers gently and sliding his knees back he eased his erect cock in their place.

Holding his weight on his arms and knees he flexed his hips to thrust and withdraw. “Alright?” He asked between pants.

“Hmm,” she nodded, squirming under him. “You beast, you’re teasing me!”

He laughed and thrust a little harder, a little faster.

“Garmon,” she arched up into him, trying to get more of what she needed to come.

He eased his body down a fraction, moving his weight onto his elbows, tracing a pattern on her back with the tip of his tongue and blowing on it.

“Garmon!” she squealed shivering. His plan of distraction was working!

He moved closer, lowering his body onto hers and thrust deeply with his hips. Pushing her closer to release with the movement. She was panting and moaning now, and he judged she was close.

“Tell me if it’s too much,” he murmured lowering his upper body down until his chest was flush with her back and his head tucked in beside hers on the pillow, his arms caging her either side. He loved this part, having her so close under him, held by his weight, but would she panic and buck him off? His hips continued their plundering thrusts, pushing her into the pillow, restricting her movement. Angling his cock to catch the place of pleasure inside her and forcing her body to arc in a rictus of pleasure and pushing her, he hoped the final inch to completion.

She cried out beneath him and bucked, but this wasn’t a panicked response, she was coming, he could feel it and his own body responded with a rise of pleasure. Could he come again? Did he have anything to deliver after their marathon session of love making?

Feeling the tremors in her body as she tore her pleasure against the pillow, captured and restricted by his weight, his balls pulled tight, and his cock quivered with anticipation. Hot pleasure engulfed him for a final time and his body shuddered through a last release.

The waves of pleasure were not accompanied by the usual delivery of seed, instead he felt a wave of warm pleasure in his sensitised cock and balls and the muscles behind them spasmed hard, sending tendrils upward over his buttocks to his spine and downwards through his thighs to feet. He gasped, his breathing suspended for a moment as the wash of pleasure eddied through him and left him beached and boneless on her back.

When he could speak, he croaked, “Are you alright?”

“Yes,” her voice was muffled by the pillow.

He shifted off her with an effort, rolling sideways and lay getting his heart rate and breath back under control. He turned his head to look at her and clasped her hand. “Alright?”

She nodded. “It was...” she paused and lifted her head to push the hair off her face. “You forced me to come. My body couldn’t move the way I wanted it to, and it should have been frightening, but it was erotic instead. You made me climax by stretching my body unnaturally. I think my lower back will be sore later, but it was worth it.”

He leaned over and kissed her. “Exactly what I was hoping for.”

“Why do you like that position so much?”

“I like the power of it, but also, I love the way it feels from that angle inside you. It is strongly erotic for me to have you under me like that, and the sensations inside are impossible to resist.”

She rolled off the pillow onto her back and groaned as she got the kinks out of it.

He glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece and realised with a sinking feeling that their time was over. While he wanted to find a way to prolong it, he realised that this wasn’t the time to do that. While he was determined this wouldn’t be their last night together, he was too wise in the ways of women to push the point now.

The carriage drewup outside the Tavern, and she moved towards the door, but his hand on her arm stayed her.

“If there are consequences, you will tell me?” His tone was more statement than question, and his eyes fixed hers with a stare that was hard to look away from.

She swallowed. “There won’t be, but yes if by some miracle there should-” she swallowed again, her throat closing over. She nodded to finish the sentence, and he pulled her close, kissing her hair as she buried her face in his shoulder. For a moment she allowed herself the luxury of enjoying one more hug from this man who made her feel safe. Was she wrong to refuse his offer of extending their liaison? Her heart thumped painfully in her chest and her hands clenched tight on the rough fabric of his coat.

“Genevra love...” his voice was husky, and she hugged him back a moment longer before pulling back.

“Thank you, it has been a wonderful week, I will never forget it.” She swallowed, blinking. “I must go before someone see’s me.”

His hand caressed her cheek, and he kissed her lips softly. “I refuse to say goodbye. If you ever need anything-”

“Yes, I know-” she blew out a breath. “Goodbye.” She kissed him quickly and turned to the door, scrambling out before he could pull her back and convince her she was wrong.

She stepped away from the carriage as the door closed behind her, and she glanced back to see his face staring at her. It was impossible to make out his expression, but her heart turned over with a sick thump, and she had to restrain her hands from reaching out to call him back as the carriage lurched into motion and headed down the street away from her.

She stood a moment fighting tears.

Straightening her shoulders, she turned to face the Tavern and the rest of her life. Garmon Lovell had no place in that beyond the settling of the debt between them. She would pay it as quickly as possible to cut the tie and move forward with her plans. She would. She must.