Lisette (10 page)

The duchess asked, “Have you been with
him—today?”

Lisette held her gaze and swallowed.

“The Viscount, I mean.”

“I know whom you mean.”

Her mother sighed and tilted her head again,
scanning Lisette’s face. “I won’t ask if you know what you are
doing. We seldom do when we are in it. All that I must know,
Lisette, is if you are on a path you truly believe will bring you
happiness in the end?”

Looking away, Lisette replied, “I wish I
knew, Mama. I wish—I could see what is right before my eyes, but I
cannot.” She straightened her legs and slid down in the bed.

The duchess arose and pulled the cover over
her shoulders when Lisette rolled to her side. She leaned down and
kissed her brow, smoothing it with her hand. “I trust you, Lisette.
More than any of my children, I trust your spirit, and strength.
You are my daughter, after all. We don’t give up on anyone, not on
ourselves either.”

Lisette lay still after the door closed. She
closed her eyes and saw his face, that expression just before he
had ridden away. By the time sleep claimed her, she knew—she had to
see him, touch him, she had to be with him again.

* * * *

Marston answered Lady Juliette summons. He
had planned to leave by noon and had already thanked his hosts and
expressed his sincere pleasure at having been their guests. In a
black coat, trousers, white shirt, he entered the parlor where Lady
Juliette was standing by the window.

“You wished to see me?”

She smiled imperceptibly at him. “Someone
does.” Her gaze went over him. “She’s in the gazebo.”

He blinked and then nodded, feeling something
intense and impatient wash over him before he turned and exited the
house. Walking round to the side, he took a path to the gazebo.

It was a clear day but brisk. His breath
panted white puffs while he walked toward it. He could already see
Lisette standing in the center, watching his approach.

When he stepped up and under the shelter,
Elisha’s gaze took in her blue nip-waisted riding jacket, skirt,
and blouse with jabot, boots and black gloves. Her hair was drawn
back and gathered in a net. She looked—beautiful. Her eyes were
vivid and her cheeks flushed, her lips dark.

“Is something wrong?” He reached for her
hand.

She put hers in it. “Yes.”

“What can I do?”

“Make love to me.”

Elisha did not think he heard her right. His
eyes bore into hers. “What?”

She said it again, in strong tones, with no
hesitation.

Then, “There is a small cottage that I asked
to have prepared.” Lisette reached and touched his face. “I cannot
wait until spring. I need you. All of you.”

His head light and blood hot, Elisha gathered
her to him and kissed her. His skin was alive, his heart pumping
rapidly. The taste of her desire was palpable. “You know the way?”
He took her hand.

She nodded and led him out of the gazebo,
around to where her horse waited.

Elisha climbed in the saddle, and reached for
her, pulling her across his lap. They rode east and about a half
mile, before he saw the small cottage. Its warm amber windows were
aglow and smoke puffed from the chimney.

Elisha set her down and then dismounted. He
walked the horse to a shelter beside the cottage and saw to it.
When he went round, Lisette had gone inside. He entered, viewing a
very small but warm parlor with cheery fire. Through a doorway, a
bed—and the shadow of Lisette removing her clothing. He locked the
door and crossed the distance; the bedroom entry was low so his
head barely cleared it.

Lisette was at the other side of a bed,
already having removed jacket and skirt.

He undressed too, with his gaze on her,
watching her, until there was nothing but her glorious body before
his eyes. She was reaching up to remove the net and shake her hair
free, next. It slid silkily down her back and over her
shoulders.

Sitting down on the bedside, he removed his
boots and then only in trousers stood again, and watched her move
onto the bed.

Elisha savored her uncovered image; the
arched feet, curved calves, shapely thighs and hips—the graceful
curve of her waist, flat ribs-her breasts—made to fit his palms.
With her hair pulled to the side and over her shoulder, Lisette’s
face was a muse, a portrait of beauty and desire.

“Are you sure?” his voice sounded rough and
intimate in the room.

She held out her hand. “I’m very sure.”

Elisha put a knee on the bed and joined her.
At first, he propped on his forearm, so his fingertips could trace
her brow and cheek, her ear. He was still taking it in, absorbing
her expression, the fact that she had come to him, and wanted him
to make love to her.

He slowly lowered and dipped to kiss her,
supple and sensually. Now that he knew what she liked, how she
liked a kiss to start, he was deliberately stirring both their
senses and hungers. Her hand cupped his nape. He deepened the kiss,
his lips open over hers, his tongue taking the dominant lead,
taking from her. The fires of passion fanned. Her silky moan was
answered by his echo of it deep in his throat.

Elisha lifted his head and moved so that his
hand could caress her, while his lips, swept supplely over her jaw
and arched neck. Aware of the goal, he was using his warm breath,
and tasting of her skin with the tip of his tongue. Cupping her
breasts, he dipped lower, and fed her nipples to his wanting lips.
He bathed the areola with his tongue, and then suckled with her
sigh of pleasure in his ears and the arch of her shapely body
against him was begging for more loving.

Smoothing his palm over her hip then her
side, he kissed down her ribs. Gliding next over her buttock and
then kneading, Elisha always knew, somewhere in his soul, that she
would be as free and beautiful, as exquisite a lover as she was
now. He knew—she would unfold more and more, like a flower coming
into full bloom.

Lisette let herself fall into her senses.
Every kiss upon her skin, every touch of his tongue to it spread
sexual chills over her flesh. His warm breath caressed her. His
strong masculine palm kneaded and wrung sighs from her parted lips.
He was a sensual lover. His touch was incredible. He made her feel
his pleasure in feeling of his hand and lips on her body.

Elisha moved down to her lower stomach. He
traced her legs from arch to thigh with his hand, before he parted
them. She half rose to watch him plant kisses over her curls,
before his tongue was seeking the folds.

“Yes…” A hiss of pleasure came from her when
he pressed harder and moved his head in the manner he kissed her
mouth.

Elisha lifted his head a moment; his silvery
eyes meeting hers before he bent her knees, then used his palms
inside her thighs to spread them wider. Lowering again, he opened
those petals to expose her most sensitive flesh. He flattened his
tongue and curled it by turns over her clitoris, before easing it
inside her sex.

Lisette was panting, moaning louder,
completely submerged in the erotic stroke of his tongue.

He kissed here there, repeatedly, going from
between the lips to easing his tongue inside. At length, when she
was trembling, feverish, he sat up, peeling off his trousers.

Thighs quivering, her breath tight, Lisette
admired his masculine body, welcoming his velvet hard strength
against her as he put himself between her legs.

Her inner thighs were shivering against his
skin.

At his kiss, she took his tongue deep in her
mouth—tasting herself in his sexual kiss, feeling the tension and
hunger raging inside of him too. Seeing it as he lifted his torso
held found gaze.

His forearms beside her shoulders, muscles
taut and sinew on his throat tight, Elisha’s visage was dark and
intense. “Am I crushing you? You’re so very small.”

She smiled unsteady and smoothed her hands
down his strong back. “No. You feel glorious. Your thighs, your
hips, your warm belly touching me.” She whispered, “I ache for
you.”

He closed his eyes a moment, nostrils
quivering, and then opened them while he brought his hips closer
and the crown of his sex found hers.

She bit her lip on a moan.

Watching her face closely, Elisha realized
his body was quaking too. His breaths were terse, almost painful.
His forehead lowered as he moved inches into her.

She dug her nails into his back and made an
“Ahhh.” sound.

His breathing took on a brusque cadence
now.

Her neck arched, her thighs were wide and
high. The more he filled her, the louder her sounds became.

Eyes closed, feeling his terse breath wafting
on her hair, she moaned, “Ohh—God. Elisha!”

He was shaking hard, his skin so hot it
dewed. Against her ear Elisha rasped, “Lisette…Lisette…” Then eased
back and came further in, stretching, and filing her.

Her nerves inside felt as if they were
raw—feeling the form of his cock from the rounded crown and ample
shaft. The more he gave her, the more she cried out, turning her
head to bite his nipple, to tease him and lave it, and hold onto
his large musculature for dear life.

Those muscles seemed to coil and flex as he
began to pull back and thrust in slowly. By the fifth one, Lisette
was arching her neck again, sucking in air and moaning loudly,
“Oh—sweet God. Oh—ohhh.”

“Am I hurting you?” He sounded terse and raw
throated. “Lisette! Does it hurt?”

She rolled her head to meet his eyes, hers
burning with inner fires. “I’m…not a virgin.”

“You’ve—”

“Once. But—never—like this.” She panted and
searched his gaze. Her sex was rippling against his inside of her,
contracting. She managed, “It was two years ago, brief, and he
was….nowhere near…your size.” Her following smile was unsteady.

Elisha seemed to tremble harder. He raised
enough, and then slid out only a bit, so he could lean on his arm
and cup her cheek. Looking into her eyes, he asked hoarsely, “Does
it pleasure you?”

“Any more so—and I am going to be screaming.
You will not mind, will you? I cannot seem to contain it.”

His eyes looked molten hot. “No. I will not
mind.” After kissing her, he positioned again between her legs, and
started thrusting in and pulling back, in a deliberately sensual
cadence.

Lisette absorbed him—and there was much of
him so thick inside of her, that she was indeed soon crying out,
“Ohhhh yes…yes.”

He slanted. It grazed that magic spot going
in. A climax went like wildfire through her muscle and bones. She
could only gasp and dig her nails harder into his flesh.

Hearing his, “Mmm, love, mmmm. Yes.” The
moisture from it bathed his cock, and he said so, explicitly—and
she was soon caught up in the full, hard, slam of his hips keeping
his cock stroking her inside.

He was a big, powerful man, so the thrusts
jolted her and shuddered the bed. She could only take it, enjoy it,
absorb it—until he halted, catching his breath as he raised his
torso—elevating her hips up.

He was still inside of her when he got to his
knees. Their eyes met. The room was now permeated with the scent of
their hot skin and harsh breathing—saturated with the ambrosia of
sex. Lips parted, breathing harsh, he came forward bending her
knees at his upper arms and arching over, so it curled body.

He thrust shallower, but lightning fast.

Lisette did scream—when the head of him
rubbed that inner spot. She whimpered and muttered explicitly,
because it was that amazing.

When he had her close to climax, Elisha let
her legs lower and then surged deep.

Lisette groaned longer and deeper. She
shuddered, riding it out with her hips, while he husked, “It
feels—like melted honey on my cock”, seconds before he shuddered
and then growled something equally explicit.

For Elisha, the climax went through his
muscle like a storm.

For Lisette, it flowed over her inner walls,
making her sigh.

Afterwards, Elisha moved to the side of her
and onto his back. For a while, his hand rested on her hipbone,
while they caught their breath.

Lisette arose first, feeling him as if still
between her legs. So real that she thought, this is what making
love to a masculine, fully-grown, male, feels like?
Amazing—Delicious. Roughly erotic in his potency...
Breathtaking.

She was still in the small bathing closet
when Elisha entered after she had relieved herself. His side to
her, he washed himself, but with his head, turned and he openly
watched her use the douche to flush his seed from her.

Lisette pat herself dry afterwards, silently
thanking her mother for speaking frankly about such things. Still,
she tried not to blush when he had wrapped a towel around his hips
and sat on a small stool, apparently fascinated—watching while she
made use of the fresh water and soap to run a cloth over her body
and between her legs.

When she had rinsed and wrung the cloth, he
reached a hand out for it.

Handing it to him after soaping it, Lisette
watched him wipe his face, then the back of his neck. He ran it
over the round muscles of his shoulders. As he reached it back, she
wet it and rung again. He washed down his arms and from each thigh
to feet.

Lord but he was beautiful. His skin was deep
almond, his body sculpted.

When he was done and stood, she traced that
body visually from his feet upwards, with her heart pounding a
little louder while regarding that hard face in repose. His eyes
were lighter, softer silver, but having observed her looking at
him—she would swear his smile was a bit shy.

Impossible, she told herself later, when they
lay on the bed and enjoyed wine that had been provided. He had the
towel casually over his groin, in a half draped over one thigh. She
was nude and on her stomach, elbows keeping her propped up, and the
glass between her hands. She had pulled her hair over one shoulder
to cool her nape.