Chapter 6
Amy Mangevileyn had a problem. A delicious problem:
She desperately wanted her husband.
She wanted him more than another slice of that fine Michaelmas bannock. When he washed before her, she wanted to beg him to come to her in his sweat, dust, and musk, rub his scent into her skin. She’d been sleeping on his pillow, turning her face into the down so she could take him in from afar.
Over time, the scent on his pillow had faded. And all the while, her need for him had grown.
She’d finally recognized why her breasts felt heavy sometimes when he was near. Imagined him in their bed and found her spot growing slick, easing the way for his manhood.
For months, she’d argued with herself. Could he possibly want her — far from a virgin, and well he knew! — in such a way? Perhaps he didn’t have those feelings for her.
Yet when Amy saw her husband coming up the drive, his arms full of his daughter and eyes brimming with affection, she decided to try. Amy Abel Mangevileyn was always willing to try.
In their bedroom, Amy sat before Erasmus, her knees having gone weak at his touch. She didn’t realize that it would put her nearly at the level of that part of him.
It was hard and erect, rising from the nest of dark hair he’d just washed. She reached out to stroke the shaft, and he caught her hand.
“You needn’t,” he rasped.
“But I want to.”
Erasmus brought her hand there, let her wrap her fingers around the hot, heavy member that made the place between her thighs ache with anticipation. He exhaled as if pained and put his hand atop hers.
“You’re such a good girl, Amy,” he said. “But if you do that, I’m going to embarrass myself.”
“You never need to be embarrassed with me,” she said.
“All the more reason to give you my very best showing,” he said, giving her a tender look. “Lie back on the bed.”
She scurried up onto the mattress and laid herself out for his pleasure. Amy took deep breaths, hoping he might notice how becomingly her curves had come in with all the wholesome dairy, fruits, and grains from the home farm.
His eyes were on her breasts, and she squirmed, pushing her thighs together as she thought of how it might feel to be touched there. Hands against the sheets, she waited for him to advance.
Erasmus held his shaft, not stroking, simply holding it and observing her naked body. She longed to cry out, wanted to beg for his touch.
And then he did it. He took that hand and ran the backs of his fingers over her hardened nipple.
Amy convulsed, then covered her mouth as she fought to contain the sound of her pleasure. It was the lightest of touches, yet the earth could swallow her up this very moment without her noticing because the sensation was so profound.
Her hips rocked on the bed, and her legs tangled together, then opened, desperately seeking something. Something of his.
Her husband finally joined her, crawled right over her needy body, flashed her a hungry smile, and dropped his full lips to her nipple.
And then he sucked. His were a man’s demanding sucks, lascivious and lusty, and Amy had to bite the meat of her hand to contain the wails that might otherwise wake the baby.
“Shhh, you must remain calm,” he teased, switching to her other breast and heating her blood anew, the exasperating man.
He was kneeling between her spread legs, preventing her from closing them to get friction in that place that felt hot and wet and tight.
“Aren’t you going to…”
“Hmm?” he asked, her nipple still betwixt his lips. The vibration made tears come to her eyes. She was awash in something, drowned in it, her whole being liquid and poured this way and that by his expert touch. An ocean of pleasure took her under.
“Aren’t you going to penetrate me?” she asked, the question coming out in a rush.
He released his suction on her skin.
“I don’t think I will,” he said, finally looking down and trailing his fingers over her upper thigh.
“Whyever not?” she exclaimed, stunned that any man clearly aroused as her husband would wait even this long to insert himself.
“I want you certain, and wet, and ready,” he said, bringing those fingertips higher and higher on her leg. She was going to scream, wiggle down so she could press herself against him! At this moment, she was all of those things, and he was simply teasing her!
“But—”
“And we need not rush into another baby, much as one or three would delight me,” he said, stroking the hair between her legs with feathering touches.
Her head suddenly cleared. Another baby. Phin was only six months old, and she’d been about to beg for her husband’s manhood, not even thinking of the consequences. It was like cold water, the fear of so quickly returning to morning illness and the ache of a heavy belly.
Erasmus lowered himself and placed a gentle kiss on her lips. “I can see I’ve upset you. I just want you to be happy and well.”
She nodded, not looking into his eyes. “I wasn’t thinking,” she said, suddenly wishing she could roll up in that counterpane and experience this humiliation alone.
“There now,” said Erasmus, dropping a kiss on her neck. “There are ways to enjoy a night in our bed — our marital bed — without risk of another baby basket separating us so soon.”
Her heart dropped when she realized what this could mean for their marriage.
“But don’t we have to…”
He raised his eyebrows, looking down at her with a stern expression. “Yes, Amy?”
“Don’t we have to consummate the marriage for it to be legal?” she asked in a rush.
Erasmus dipped his head to her cheek, which had once been flushed from desire, now from humiliation.
“But we consummated the marriage,” he mumbled into her tender skin.
“We…”
“We have a son. You’ve already given me a fine boy,” he said. “He arrived while we were married.”
Was her husband mad? He knew as well as she did that Phineas was the product of that horrifying workhouse.
“I’ll help you recall,” he said, kissing slowly down to her collarbone. “I had you spread out like this on our bed. Your breasts weren’t quite so full then, since you weren’t yet expecting or nursing. But they were so pretty with the tightest little pink nipples that you allowed me to taste.”
He gave one lick on her nipple to punctuate the story.
“You were ready to join our bodies at last. You told me so in the barn and then in the hallway to our bedroom that day. I had all the sense of a young bull, proud and hard, my sack fit to burst for my young bride’s cunny.”
Erasmus let his fingers trail over her slit, teasing the lips that swelled and ached for his touch.
“I didn’t think I could stand another moment of being outside your slick clasp. I tugged you into this very bedroom, placed you on the bed, and set about getting a baby on you.”
Amy didn’t realize what he was doing at first; she thought he was being silly. But as her husband told her the story of how they’d supposedly made Phineas — an impossibility — she saw precisely what he described, felt the pleasure of making a child with a loving and gentle man.
The painful memories of the workhouse faded all the more as Erasmus painted over them with something tender. She brushed away a tear, her happy feelings hard to contain.
“You did just that when I showed you my staff,” he said wryly before kissing the corner of her eye where another tear had escaped. “You were fearful that it wouldn’t fit.”
Amy giggled. He was being too much!
“But I reassured you I’d prepare the way,” he said, his gaze smoldering. “I promised to get you so wet you could take all of me.”
Her next exhale resembled a shudder. Her stomach seemed to flip, and she didn’t doubt that he’d find her very able to smother every inch of him.
“You were so sweet, Amy. You asked me to show you how I’d fit inside.”
Her eyes widened; this sounded nothing like something she’d say!
“I know!” he cried. “It was far bolder than I expected of you. But I like it when you’re bold and demanding, wife. It makes me hard as hell.”
He grasped his shaft, pumping it while he looked down at her displayed body.
“Amy, you’re beautiful,” he grunted.
“Are you sure you can’t…” she asked, her eyes on the head of his staff. Such a thing had never been tempting before, but she now wanted him inside, buried deep in her channel.
“That night, you asked me a very different question: if we could make a baby without me inserting myself. How times change,” he said. “But that night I reassured you by sliding a finger where my cock would go.”
Erasmus showed her his thick digit, then moved his hand between her spread thighs and slid just the tip into her hole.
She was so hot, so wet and overcome that a mere inch had her crying into her hand and contracting around him.
To his credit, Erasmus didn’t prolong her agony, simply worked his finger in and out until her stomach clenched and she rocked into a shaking paroxysm that left her mind blank and body sensitive.
“You’ve a sloppy little puss, Mrs. Mangevileyn,” he muttered, moving slower as she returned to awareness. “A good girl with a wet little cunny. No wonder I got a baby on you so fast.”
Her muscles contracted again as another wave of pleasure crashed unexpectedly. She felt wrung out, like the wash she’d done at the workhouse.
“Now, lie back and let me enjoy this fine, messy cunny,” he bit out, stroking the hand slick with her juices onto his manhood.
Amy thought he’d revise his earlier sentiments about not inserting himself — not that she’d mind. She had all the thoughts of one of Thea’s dolls. But he simply worked his staff with his hand and then lowered his hips until they hovered over hers.
“Ready?” he asked, somewhat winded.
“Yes.”
He dipped further and let the head of his part rest between her blooming lips, allowed the shaft to be cradled by her body but still well outside her channel. He slid forward slowly, following the slit, and pushed it through her wetness.
And then his head slid over some part of her that had her hips rocking, and muscles shaking.
“Your little nub is so sensitive,” he said, a coy smile on his face as he directed the ledge of that head over it again.
Nothing could be as wonderful. How was this happening again, so soon after pleasure had flattened her?
Her tiny cries turned to groans that she had to muffle in the pillow from the other side of the bed, her teeth biting into the fine pillowcase as her gentlemanly, intelligent husband played her body like a virtuoso.
“This is just how you felt the night we made our baby,” he said, using his hand to keep his shaft running between her over-sensitive lips. “We wailed in each other’s arms all night long, and I gave you enough seed for a lifetime. Filled your pretty cunny until we were bound to have a child.”
Amy was so wet she wondered if Erasmus had somehow entered and filled her despite knowing he hadn’t.
“I didn’t know,” she sighed, surrendering all control of her body to her husband’s expert care.
“What’s that, sweetheart?” he asked, cradling a breast that had ached from the rocking motion.
“I didn’t know that it could feel like this. That making—”
Erasmus pressed the softest of kisses to her lips, causing her eyes to close and back to arch. “They call it making love.”
“Do they now?” she asked, trying to contain a smile.
Her husband ran his nose over the wispy curls that framed her ears. “Making love and making a baby. Just as we did to create Phineas.”
Amy hiccoughed her sob before she even knew she was crying. Her heart simply couldn’t control the emotions flooding her as Erasmus brought her to pleasure and healed something she’d once thought broken for good.
And she realized it then: she was in love with him. She didn’t merely want his fine body or his sharp mind — she wanted his goodness, his infinite gentleness and care.
Somehow, despite all the reasons it should not be so, she had stumbled into the barn of the most wonderful man, and he seemed to like her.
“You’re so good,” he moaned, thrusting faster and rubbing over that nub until she felt like an over-wound clock. “Such a good girl for me.”
Erasmus pinched her nipple and grimaced, clearly holding himself back from his own release.
“That’s it, get ready to take this load I have for you. I want a baby on Midsummer.”
His words were too powerful, and Amy rocked to meet his shaft and get it right over the place she was straining to feel him. For one moment, he slipped the barest bit into the mouth of her hungry channel, and their combined efforts only teased each other as they fought the urge to couple.
Finally, Erasmus took control, holding his hand over his thrusting member so it stayed safely outside her body, working that bump until she experienced a sensation akin to being hit with a whole tub of wash water at once.
She must have shaken and cried out, insensible of her surroundings, because Erasmus fixed his lips to hers, presumably so he might muffle her cries.
When he pulled back, he looked down at her belly with some satisfaction.
“All of that in your womb,” he said, casting her a heated glance when he looked up from where his spend had sprayed over her abdomen. “You took that all in and gave me our baby boy. For that, I couldn’t be more grateful.”
He rose from the bed and collected the cloth he’d used for washing. Painstakingly, he cleaned Amy between her thighs and on her stomach, then wiped her dry with the corner of a sheet.
She feared that trying to talk now might reveal her to have lost the power of speech.
“There now, Amy,” said Erasmus, crawling behind her and draping his body around hers.
And for the first time since she was a girl, Amy slipped into a blissfully dreamless sleep.