Lady Lovett's Little Dilemma

“Cressida!” Justin, billiard cue in hand, jerked round as Cressida pushed open the double doors to the games room and stepped inside. A nervous tic pulled at the corner of his mouth as he regarded her through black eyes shadowed within cavernous sockets.

Cressida felt as if her heart were torn asunder. Her poor darling had been pacing the house like a caged beast, tormented, since she’d all but cast him out without a hearing all those hours ago. She tried to banish her guilt quickly with the knowledge that she had the power to bring the joy back to both their lives.

“You don’t have to explain a thing, my darling,” she whispered, advancing towards him until their bodies were almost touching. Warily he watched her, still uncertain of her motives, clearly unwilling yet to take her into his embrace.

“Good Lord, Cressy. What are—?”

“Hush,” she whispered as she undid the buttons of his breeches and slid one hand into the slit to gently cup his balls. His instant erection, straining against her hand, sent a surge of satisfaction through her and she stepped in to close the gap, pressing her lips to Justin’s mouth, which had pursed in surprise. With one hand on his shoulder and the other fondling his manhood she kissed him deeply, her tongue darting inside to explore the cavern of his mouth, thrusting and tangling with his, bolstered by a confidence she’d rarely felt as she registered his excitement building in tandem with her own.

He dropped the billiard cue and stepped back, trapped between the edge of the heavy table and her body, which she offered up to him in anything but sacrifice.

“God, Cressy, I hope you know what you’re doing,” he croaked, somewhere, it seemed, between horror and wary delight.

“Absolutely,” she reassured him, lowering herself to her knees and gently easing his engorged cock out of his breeches. She felt her eyes widen. God, now that she could actually see it in the light, it was huge. She’d never seen it like this before—face to face, as it were. So this was the power he wielded with such devastating results…under cover of darkness in the bedroom beneath the counterpane.

With mounting excitement, she grasped her husband firmly by the root and gently circled the tip of his manhood with her tongue, pausing to laugh softly when she felt him stiffen, and his shock as he muttered, “Oh my God, where did you dream up this exquisite torture?”

Cressida raised her eyes to slant him a sly smile. “While looking for you I stumbled upon a tableau not meant for the eyes of a lady.” She thought a moment, adding, “And yet I think we were all ladies at Mrs Plumb’s, and most of us were looking for the same thing.”

At his momentary frown, she clarified in a low whisper, “Ways in which we might combine pleasure with power.” She stroked his shaft then kissed it with great tenderness before smiling up at him. “You surely will not blame me for putting to good use the lessons I learned as I searched for the truth you’d been keeping from me, dearest? For I’ve come directly from Madame Zirelli. I know the truth and that is why I am here. You’ve no need to worry I harbour the slightest doubt about your constancy. We’ll talk later,” she soothed. Any reply of which he might have been capable was truncated as she took him deeply into her mouth, sliding her tongue around the base of his engorged member, thrilling at his responses as she licked and suckled.

His hands tangled in her hair as he threw his head back and gasped. “You are exquisite,” he groaned, his breathing tortured as Cressida built up the tension with her tongue.

It was all so new to Cressida, and all so wickedly exciting. She could afford to be as tantalising as she wished, for she had precautions and she had knowledge. A week ago this hugely important aspect of her life, the foundation of her marriage, had been mired in dark, swamp-like ignorance.

While Justin moaned his pleasure, Cressida could provide him with all he could want of a wife, fulfilling her conjugal side of the contract. With interest. It was exhilarating and it was just the beginning.

“And now it’s my turn,” she whispered when she felt him nearly at the cusp. She wanted this moment to confirm their sexual life would never be the same. Still holding him with one hand, she hastily retrieved the French letters from the reticule at her knees and slipped one of the strange sheaths on to him, just as Madame Zirelli had shown her. His desire matched her own and she was wet and desperate for him as she rose to her feet, twisting in his grasp so she had her back against the table.

She did not have to say the words that had been forming on her breath—‘Take me here.’ Her actions conveyed their own eloquence and now it was Cressida’s turn to throw back her head and gasp as his hands encircled her waist and he lifted her onto the table, moving in to take her ankles and wrap her legs around his waist.

Breathless, panting and excited, they both grappled with her full, heavy skirts, hoisting them to her waist.

She wanted no preliminaries. She was clear about that, her lust too advanced, her desire too urgent. She needed to feel herself full and hot with him thrusting deep inside her. She wanted him to lose himself in her as he’d done when they were lovers as much as newlyweds, and the consequences were a bonus not a bane.

She wanted to reclaim him.

With her arms supporting her weight, she opened heavy eyelids as Justin pushed into her, first with tentative exploration, for it had been so long since they’d done this, then with serious intent as he picked up the pace with smooth assurance. She gasped and closed her eyes, thrilling at the memory of Justin’s expression, glazed with passion.

It came naturally. She moved with him as he ground his hips against hers and she felt herself drifting, losing herself in the moment, her body a mass of heightened sensation. As important as the physical was the knowledge that she had all but claimed back what she’d thought she’d lost.

He came with a shudder, his body convulsing over hers, and she wrapped her legs even tighter around him and thrust her own body forward to clasp his head to her chest.

“My God, Cressy,” he groaned, “I had no idea how much I’d missed this. Please forgive me.”

She kept her eyes closed. She felt full, with joy, and satiated, her husband still inside her. Justin had just made love to her for the first time in ten months—and she was not left with the fear and uncertainty of another pregnancy. They’d thrown themselves into bringing pleasure to one another with the joyful abandon

that had characterised their early marriage, yet, with all they knew of each other, and their confusion and mistrust laid to rest, it had been even better than it had eight years ago.

“Oh, Justin, it was nobody’s fault and it was the fault of both of us, but Madame Zirelli opened my eyes when she told me everything.”

They slid to the floor, embracing upon the thick wolf skin, stroking and kissing each other as renewed sexual desire quickly pushed aside post-coital lethargy.

“Justin—?” Cressida opened her eyes, surprised as she felt Justin’s member pushing against her hip, slowly enlarging once more. Tentatively, she gripped it, her joyful sense of power growing as she felt him instantly harden. Slyly, she added, “I don’t think we’ve finished yet.”

“Cressy, you don’t have to. Are you quite sure—?”

A skilful squeeze stayed his objection.