Finding the table edges, she gripped left and right and braced herself for his fervent pounding. She was left in no doubt that he had missed her. He was impatient and rough, more so than he had ever been before. Her absence had caused him some grief. If he were not pummelling so hard, she might have smiled at the thought and appreciated it. However, the pace of his thrusts and the power of them left her unable to articulate any sensible sound or thought. She gasped with each one, clung onto the table, and listened through the cacophony of her heartbeats to his heavy breathing and firm slaps of his hips against her bared bottom.
“Come,” he bellowed. “Come on me.”
She had the ability, she thought, to conjure up a climax, but not the speed he wished.
“Patience, Master. She’s nearly—”
He slapped her bottom with his palm; she shrieked in reply. “Now, I said. You’ll not keep me waiting. I’ve waited enough,” he said gruffly.
“You go too fast for me, sir. I am not a machine.” Her voice split apart at the idea of disappointing him. Tears filled her tightly closed eyes.
Matthew slowed, eased his harsh grip and sighed. He reached under, sought out her clitoris, and rubbed it with his fingertips.
She howled, as if she was being tortured, so tender it had become since their last coupling. He resumed his thrusts, and although the haste was gone, his rapid finger movements kept time with the rhythm of his pelvis, bringing her closer to what he desired, and giving her little opportunity to counter his movements or even squirm. Trapped beneath him, she submitted her body to him and succumbed to his passion for lust.
He leaned over her, nuzzled her unravelling bun of hair, and kissed the back of her neck. “Now,” he said softly. “Now you can.”
And she did. The rippling spasms lasted long enough for him to extract his erection and find release over her raised bottom. The liquid pooled in her furrow and down her legs. She did not mind. It was the sweetest of sensations.
He took a step back. “I shouldn’t enjoy it like that, but I do.”
She stirred and straightened, finding she ached in places. Her skirts dropped to her ankles and she turned to face him.
“If that is how you need it... then I shall do my best to accommodate—”
He shook his head. “No, that’s not right, and you know it isn’t. I didn’t have you stay under my roof to treat you with contempt. You’re a lady.”
“Back at home, maybe,” she said.
He had his back to the window and was in silhouette; she could not determine his features in the shadows. She moved toward him, but he spun about and walked to the door. The light streamed through the open door and blinded her.
“Matthew,” she called after him. “I mean it when I say I am yours.”
He paused in his strides, then continued. The infuriating, contrary man was intent on keeping his thoughts secret and his feelings masked.
Chapter Six
The river flowed through the lower fields, gushing down from the hills, through a small copse of trees, then over a rocky outcrop into a pool, where the water lay still for a while before meandering down to the village in the distance. It was the only place that she could bathe. Matthew suggested using it, especially when the days were hot and sticky. It was easier to bathe in the evenings than the mornings, which were still nippy. She gathered up a bag of clean clothes and a towel and walked the mile to the pool.
She followed the stone wall, climbing over the sty that separated one field from the next until she came to the blackberry bushes that lined the edge of the river. One lone willow hung its branches over the water’s edge.
There were shouts, raucous cries, and splashes. She ducked down behind the bush and peeped her head over the top.
The three labourers were in the pool. From what she could tell they had no clothes on. Their chests and shoulders rose up and out of the water as they swam from one side to the other, and their legs kicked. When they reached the far side, they stood up, naked to their waists and splashed each other like children. Their clothes were lying on the grass in the low sun.
She should go back to the farm. But her legs were glued to the ground. She was mesmerised by the sight of the young men, no older than herself, and in the prime of their existence. Ezekiel left the water first; clambering up the side of the bank, he picked up his shirt and wiped the water from his face. He had nothing on, not even underpants. She could not help looking at it, his thing. It hung limply between his legs, no doubt shrivelled by the cold, but all the same, it was not a dainty organ. It swayed as he bent over. She licked her lips, wondering if all men possessed such fine specimens. Matthew certainly had a well-endowed one if Ezekiel was her only point of comparison.
Lemuel was next out and he too was bare. He strutted across the grass, a natural swagger of a man comfortable with his nudity. He dropped onto the ground and stretched out, tucking his arms behind his head. Finally, after swimming a few more strokes, Kurt joined them. He had black curls across his chest and thighs, and such muscles. She felt a bloom of heat swaddle her bosom and throat. She should not look. It was wrong. She belonged to Matthew, and another, who she would rather forget. Two men had laid claim to her, and no other was allowed to touch her.
But, if she was forbidden to touch them, could she not tease herself with the idea of it? What if she imagined them touching her? Three men, all naked, tearing at her clothes, stripping her bare and launching themselves upon her, one after the other.
She lifted up her skirts and tucked her hand underneath, searching for the wet spot. Kneeling there, her legs slightly parted, she circled the nub and continued to stare, watery-eyed.
Not even one at a time. She knew enough now to realise they could take her simultaneously. Her mouth for Kurt, because he was stout and quiet. Lewd Lemuel would take her between the legs and from behind, the bold Ezekiel.
Dara sighed and slipped a finger inside, thrusting it back and forth as the heel of her palm rubbed her cherished spot.
A twig snapped. She glanced behind her and froze. Matthew was there, no more than a few yards away, and he had a good view of what she was doing, and why.