Lessons and Lovers (20 page)

He quirked his fine and surprisingly dark eyebrows in sudden amusement, then reached out and put one long finger across her lips, effectively silencing her.

“Will you marry me, Milady?”

Hettie gasped as he withdrew the fingertip. For a moment she felt lightheaded with joy. All the unspoken dreams and wishes that had been gathering slowly but surely had come to perfect fulfillment in the space of a heartbeat.

“Well?” She saw a momentary flash of doubt darken his amazing, sculpted features, and wanted to kiss away the slight frown on his brow. Kiss away every doubt he’d ever had and ever would have for all the future that lay ahead of them…

“Of course, Starr,” she said, at a loss for anything else.

“Good, I thought you might,” he said, his face perfectly straight again. And so deliciously smug she could almost have slapped him.

“What? You don’t think it’s inappropriate, improper or ‘not your place’ then?” she inquired, feeling delirious enough to tease him.

“No, not now.” The expression on his face grew serious again for a moment, “I’ve been a coward too long… Hiding behind a convenient role. Afraid of fighting for what I want.”

Then the seriousness faded, and his sensuous lips curved into a warm, devilish smile, “But now I’ve decided to stop being a fool. And kick out all the stupid restrictions I placed on myself… Because I was the one who put them there. It was never Piers…or you.” He paused, then looked at her very levelly. “I think that us getting married is an excellent idea.”

“Is that a fact?” she shot back, grinning and deciding that she’d never met a
less
cowardly or foolish man in her life. “Well, now we’ve got that sorted out, do you think you could possibly manage to make love to me?”

He could more than manage, she could see that. Beneath the denim of his shorts, his erection was already pushing and rising.

“Of course, Ma’am,” he said solemnly, his blue eyes alight with laughter and what she could see quite clearly now was love.

“Kindly get on with it then.”

He didn’t say “of course, Ma’am” again but it was there in his handsome face, the way he bit his lip and rolled his eyes as if it were an effort
not
to say it. Instead of words he let his actions speak, swiveling his hands out of her grip, then taking hold of her by the shoulders and drawing her up alongside him as he got to his feet.

Starr was so tall and so straight that he had to bend down to kiss her on the mouth. He took her lips with the most feather-light gentleness, stroking their outline with his tongue and then with the merest of pressures, asking for entrance and acceptance. Hettie gave it gladly, receiving his heat and moisture with the happiest of hearts, her mouth, her body and very soul opening to him as his steely arms closed around her.

It was the most romantic of kisses, their mouths moving softly on one another to the sound of rippling water and rustling branches and birdsong. And yet it was sexual too. Sexy in the tasting, the rhythmic exchange of tongue thrusts, the moisture that flowed between them and anew between Hettie’s legs. Most of all, it was erotic in the rubbing of their groins against each other—she circling her pubis against the unyielding muscle of his thigh, and he, the taller one, pressing his potent erection against her soft cotton-clad belly.

Who was teasing whom the most?
Hettie wondered. She was enjoying these preliminaries, but suddenly she wanted control. She wanted to be in charge of this lovemaking, not just the recipient of Starr’s great skill as she so often was.

Reaching between them she sought and found the button on his shorts, then slipped it open. Not releasing his mouth from the kiss, she reached inside the shabby denim garment and discovered to her joy that he was naked underneath it. His cock almost leaped into her grasp, its tip wet and silky while the shaft was hotter and harder than she’d ever felt it before. As she fondled him, she felt him release her for a second or two then push down his shorts so that they fell in a heap around his ankles.

What a drawing this would make
, she thought, flicking her tongue around the inside of his mouth as she delicately masturbated the swollen head of his cock.

The two of them standing in a woodland glade, she clothed and he nude and golden and submitting to the most intimate of handling while he kissed her. She could feel the groans rising in his throat as she pressed and probed at the most sensitive areas of his cock, squeezing the glans and spreading his slippery pre-come all over the fine satin skin that almost seared her fingers with its heat.

Fondling him mercilessly, she sucked at his tongue like a famished beast, timing the swirls of her own tongue with the tantalizing play of her fingertips along the sensitive under-groove of his cock head. He wanted to shout and moan, she knew it, but there was no way she was going to free his mouth until he’d spent in her hand.

He was fighting it. Always having been strong for her, she guessed that giving in like this was alien to his independent and dominant nature. But she
would
have this! She would have him climax at her touch, at her command. Slipping her free hand around his back, she pressed one finger, then two into his anus. He was relaxed, his sexual focus elsewhere, and she was able to slide in deeply and easily.

She felt him buck against her, both in shock and in pleasure, and she drew as hard on his tongue as she could and twisted and waggled her fingers.

With his tongue thrashing in her mouth, she caressed the inside of his rectum and within seconds his cock pulsed heavily and semen spurted out of its tip. Hettie made a fist around his glans and contained the rich and luscious fluid in the cradle of her fingers. It was hers, just as
he
was hers, and neither would ever escape her again.

As his shaking body stilled and he stood up straight between her possession of his cock and his anus, Hettie lowered her mouth and kissed the hard-packed muscle of his chest.

“Thank you, my lady,” he said quietly as she released him and gave him back his power. Or at least some of it.

“I haven’t finished with you, mister,” she murmured as she stepped back and began to undress herself. “Lie down over there,” she said, pointing to a slight hollow in the turf some few feet away, a moss-lined indentation which would make a perfect natural bed for them.

With a grace that took her breath away, he complied, placing his body like some ancient Greek athlete or god, the glorious lines of his limbs as acutely desirable to her as the cock that was already regaining its stiffness.

It took her just thirty seconds to shuck off her own clothes and lie down beside him. He reached for her immediately, his fingers temptingly warm and sure, but she rolled just out of his reach.

“No, no. Not yet,” she whispered, kneeling up and coming over him again, holding down his hands as she let her mouth taste what her fingers had already pleasured. Her hair curtained down over his thighs as she took the head of his cock between her lips.

She didn’t suck hard. A quick flood of semen wasn’t what she wanted. Licking him very gently, she simply said “hello again” to the bloated tip of him and prodded her tongue gently into the tiny slit.

His cry—”Oh God!”—was barely out of his mouth when she backed off again and sent her lips on a voyage of discovery—a slow, slow exploration of every part of him that enchanted her. In the filtered, piebald light of their forest bedchamber, she set out to kiss every inch of his long, golden body.

For a full half an hour, she caressed him with her mouth. She licked and nuzzled and tasted, covering the whole of the front of him with silky wet kisses, then making him turn over so she could continue her adoration across his back, his buttocks and his anus. When she kissed him there, probing wickedly with her tongue, she thought she’d gone too far. He groaned loudly, his thighs and torso shaking as if he were about to orgasm violently. But then, with what seemed like a supreme effort of will, he steadied his body and calmly accepted her tongue.

As she pulled away, and then pushed at his shoulder to turn him over again, Hettie knew that the time for teasing was over. Knowing it was ever her fate, she lay back on the moss, opened her wet thighs wide and touched a forefinger to her flowing sex in silent invitation.

Starr lay beside her for a few seconds, as if gathering himself, then slowly and with great elegance, he moved across and slotted himself effortlessly between her legs.

Swimming with moisture, her body accepted him with exquisite ease. Her channel was his natural home and nothing seemed more right and fitting than for him to be deep inside her.

After what had just passed between them, Hettie had expected to start thrusting straight away. She was within seconds of orgasm and it would only take a couple of strokes.

But Starr was not as other men, and with a great wash of joy, she realized that on
this
as on most other occasions, she should have expected the unexpected.

Adjusting her beneath him, he cupped her buttocks and tilted her pelvis in his hands so that his cock could slide in even deeper. It seemed the most wonderful thing in the world to comply with this, lifting her legs and locking her ankles behind his hips so his glans could slide right in and caress the neck of her womb. They were as close as a man and woman could ever be now, his cock as far inside her as it could get. With a sigh of mutual contentment, they settled into perfect stillness.

“Can I ask you something, Starr?” she whispered into his ear, squeezing him with her inner muscles and getting a gasp of pleasure in response.

“Yes, Milady,” he murmured, his voice catching when she squeezed him again.

“It’s two things actually.” It was her turn to gasp when he swirled his hips and his penis seemed to swivel inside her. “The first is… Oh God! The first is… Do you think you could start calling me Hettie
all
the time, now we’re going to be married?

She felt him breathe it against her ear and her heart felt fit to burst with happiness. “That’s better… And I do mean
all
the time, not just when you’re in me,” she purred.

“Of course, M—” He chuckled and the laugh translated itself into a glorious vibration right at the core of her, “Of course, Hettie my love.”

“The other thing is…” She pressed her mouth quickly to his neck, knowing that orgasm would not be held off much longer. Just lying still with him was as exciting as the wildest of sexual acrobatics with anyone else. “When you’re my husband I’ll need to call you by your first name. Do you think you could possibly tell me what it is?”

He laughed again and her climax came floating closer. “You’ll laugh, Hettie.”

“No, I won’t! Believe me…” She was almost coming now. It was only curiosity—the unbearable need to know—that kept her from orgasming spontaneously.

“You
will
laugh,” he assured her gently, pausing to kiss her throat, “You most certainly will laugh, I promise you.” He paused again, slipping a hand between them and tapping his own chest for emphasis. “
My
first name, my dearest, darling
Henrietta
is—” he hesitated again, teasingly “—
Henry!
”

Lady Henrietta Miller did laugh then. She couldn’t stop laughing. She laughed and laughed and laughed until the moment when her laughter turned to cries of joyous ecstasy and she climaxed like a chain of firecrackers around the strong pounding cock of her future husband.

Her beloved Henry Starr…

###

Many thanks for reading
Lessons and Lovers
. I do hope you enjoyed Hettie and Starr and their erotic journey towards love, and also Darryl and his sensual education!

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Lessons and Lovers
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Portia Da Costa is a SUNDAY TIMES best-selling British author of romance, erotic romance and erotica, whose short stories and novels have been published in the UK and elsewhere since 1991. She loves creating stories about sexy, likeable people in steamy, scandalous situations, and has written for various publishers over the years, including Black Lace, HQN, Spice Briefs, Samhain Publishing, Carina Press and a good many others. Though her best known titles are mainly contemporary erotic romance, she also enjoys writing super hot Victorian historical romance, and erotic paranormals. She’s even turned her hand to a bit of erotic sci-fi and horror on occasion.

Recently, her Black Lace contemporary erotic romance IN TOO DEEP, reached Number #5 in the Sunday Times paperback fiction chart, with only books by E L James and Sylvia Day outselling her!

When Portia isn't writing she's usually to be found loafing around watching the television or reading the works of Agatha Christie or Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. Sometimes both at once. She lives in the heart of West Yorkshire in the UK, with her long suffering husband and their two beloved cats, Mork and Mindy.

Find out more about me at the following…

Twitter:
http://twitter.com/PortiaDaCosta

Website:
http://www.portiadacosta.com

Blog:
http://wendyportia.blogspot.com

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