Chapter 9
Hans awoke alone in his bed, the cold light of a winter morning streaming through the window. His limbs felt heavy but rested, and his head cleared quickly of sleep's cottony clouds.
"A dream," he muttered, stretching his arms above his head and slowly rising to sit against the pillows. "A wonderful dream, but just a dream."
But when he brushed at his eyes with his fingers, his nose caught the lingering scent of Sarah — warm, musky, and sweet — and his cock stirred beneath the quilt. He fell back against the pillows and groaned.
How had it happened? Why had it happened?
He had surely forfeited the kind hospitality the widows offered him by his act of selfish lust, letting Sarah's gentle touch drive him to desperation.
He should have resisted, should have spoken clearly and strongly to her when she came to his room, and refused to surrender to his base desires.
But had she not been willing? Hans remembered the smile on her lips, the need that send tremors through her lithe body as she straddled him, the fire in her kiss as he released his seed into her womb.
Yes, she had groaned when she took him into her velvet depths, Please!
when he warned her of his impending climax.
His cock stirred again, traitorously stiffening beneath the covers, and his hand crept between his legs as if of its own volition to grip and stroke the shaft.
The evidence of her nectar still clung to his skin, making his shaft silky and smooth as it had never felt before, and the memory of Sarah riding him with such confidence, such tightly controlled urgency, soon had him on the verge of release again.
"Hessian soldier!" Anna's voice called, accompanied by a firm knock at his door. Hans groaned under his breath and reluctantly pulled his hand away from his raging erection. "Are you awake, Hans, or are you going to laze the day away?"
"I'm ... I'm coming, Anna," Hans said through gritted teeth, sliding out of the warm covers and placing his bare feet on the cold floor. His nightshirt was twisted around his thighs, and he struggled to pull it over his throbbing member.
"Good," said Anna as she opened the door a crack and peeked her face inside. "There's a storm coming today, so there's more work for you to do!"
***
Sarah was in the kitchen when Hans entered, putting plates and cups into the high, open cupboards.
When she stood on her toes to reach, he could see the swell of her buttocks beneath her simple shift, and he felt a warm blush rise in his cheeks.
She turned to see him, and he couldn't help but see her own scarlet color.
Last night had seemed far away and long ago when he was pulling on his breeches in the little bedroom, but came rushing back suddenly, making Hans' head spin.
Anna came into the kitchen a moment later, returning from outside with her cloak about her shoulders and a cap on her head, and let out a laugh at the sight of the two lovers encountering each other in the morning's clear light.
She plucked off her hat and shook out her raven curls, then strode to the stove for the kettle that steamed on its cast iron top.
"I trust you slept as well as our guest did, Sarah," Anna said in German, giving the other young widow a playful wink. "I had to rouse the poor boy from bed, he was so exhausted from his various exertions."
"Anna, I —" Sarah stammered, her fingers fisting in her apron as she swayed from foot to foot, eyes moving from Anna and Hans and back again.
"It was the agreement, Sarah," Anna said as she poured hot tea into a mug, then smiled over the rim. "A young rooster among hens, yes?"
Sarah looked away; the color in her cheeks rose up the back of her neck, too, and Hans felt a sudden desire to press his lips there, to feel the heat of her against his mouth. He shivered and looked away, too.
"As much as I enjoy watching the two of you pretend that everything is the same this morning as it was yesterday," Anna said, setting her mug down heavily on the table, "there is a storm — perhaps two storms — on the way to our farm, and we have work to do to prepare."