Chapter 17 #3
Mark made a surprised sound, and before she could pull away, he’d tugged her against his hard body and cradled her face in both his hands.
His lips, warm and soft, folded over hers as the faint scent of his cologne reached her nose.
Stubble scratched against her jaw as the wire rim of his spectacles brushed the side of her face, and she shivered in delight at the myriad of sensory details.
Her hands crept up his chest and her fingers slid between the buttons of his waistcoat.
Mark smiled against her lips, one hand leaving her jaw, and the door flew open.
He gripped her shoulder just before she stumbled through the doorway.
He kissed her again, pressing her backward, guiding her through the maze of furniture and rugs, until the back of her knees hit the bed.
Then he pulled away to look at her as he tugged at her hat.
“Are you going to remove that? I’d do a better job kissing without it. ”
“You were doing pretty well,” she said coyly, but obligingly reached up to pull out her hatpins. As she did so, Mark walked to her vanity and brought back a long, narrow black box. It was roughly the size of—well, roughly the size of an erect penis.
Mark stood in front of her and lifted the lid to reveal a vulcanized rubber sheath.
“You did do it,” Ellen breathed, looking up into his smug face. “I’m impressed. I’ve never seen one before. It…it looks like something a snake might shed.”
Mark laughed. “It does not! It’s far too brown for that.” He pulled out the thin rubber tube. “It’s so smooth, feel it.”
Ellen ran a finger along it, impressed by how smooth and thin the rubber was. “How does it work? Do we have to let it soak for a while like the sheep gut ones?”
He gave her a look. “And how do you know?”
“I’ve visited brothels,” she said in an off-handed way, to see how’d he respond.
“Mmmm, my very own seductress.” He leaned down and kissed her. “You’re wearing far too many clothes.”
“Why don’t I undress you while you read the directions?” She stood and reached for his waistcoat. “It’ll be a race.”
“What’s the prize for winning?” The hand not holding the sheath traced fingers down the column of her throat and worked open the top two buttons of her collar. Her pulse fluttered against his fingers.
She licked her lips. “Whatever the winner wants.”
His hand lifted back to her chin, and his thumb stroked her lower lip.
She flicked her tongue out to his thumb and relished the little gasp he made. Then he slid it into her mouth. She took him in and sucked, locking eyes.
Desire heated his gaze, and his jaw went slack. “Ellen,” he whispered, taking the last step between them. “God, I need you.”
She popped the thumb from her mouth and gave him what she hoped was a seductive smile. “You better win then.” She chuckled at Mark’s groan, but went straight to his waistcoat.
“Larson’s Seamless Paragon Sheaths,” Mark read.
“Directions for use: These sheaths are made, without joint or seam, from one piece of rubber. They are a great improvement upon, blast, that’s not worth reading.
Hmm…roll up on its rim between forefinger and thumb…
I can buy spermicide and lubricant if I like, but I didn’t, so moving on… ”
Ellen bit back a grin as she tugged the waistcoat off his shoulders. Mark paused to remove an arm and help shrug it off. “Keep reading,” she told him, and leaned forward to nip the curve of his neck.
He tensed, but his eyes didn’t stray from the tiny pamphlet glued to the inside of the lid.
“Probably should buy the lubricant,” he muttered.
“Apparently it keeps the rubber from breaking over time. Hmmm…here we are. After use, the sheath should be washed inside and out with tepid water…when quite free from moisture it should be sprinkled inside and out with Preserving Powder. I suppose that’s what’s in the little jar they gave me. Wondered what that was.”
Ellen couldn’t hide her snort as she unfastened the last button of his shirt. “Almost done,” she warned, and couldn’t help but run her fingers through the light hair on his chest.
He gave her a dark look. “You’re cheating.”
“Am I distracting you?” she asked innocently, wrapping her arms around his shoulders to slide the crisp white shirt off him.
“And you’re so bloody good at it, too.” He kissed her. “I give up. You win, whatever you want. Just please let me have you now.”
Ellen relented. “I suppose we’ll call it a draw.”
“I certainly plan on getting inside your drawers,” he muttered savagely, and threw himself at her buttons.
Before long, they’d rolled across the bed, both sets of drawers forgotten on the floor and his glasses placed on the nightstand.
Mark licked and kissed her breasts, causing Ellen to pant and writhe.
He laced his fingers with hers and lowered his body onto her, and the feel of his warm skin was the sweetest thing she’d ever felt.
“You’re so beautiful, I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of you.” His hand slid down her belly, tangling in her maidenhair, and then slid across the slickness of her vulva. He moaned in her mouth. “How are you already so wet? Do you know what that does to me?”
Ellen gasped and tilted her hips toward his hand. “How are you so good at this?”
His fingertips circled her clitoris, then dipped inside to coat himself in her, and returned to torment her nubbin again. For the next several minutes he teased and petted and played with her, promising all sorts of delights if she could just hold onto him, onto the feeling building inside her.
Ellen managed to slide a hand down until she found his cock. He hissed with pleasure at her touch, and she smiled even as she pressed a love bite against his neck. She palmed him, then tightened her grip and stroked the way he liked it, how he’d shown her last night.
“Oh, keep going!” she exclaimed as a wave of pleasure hit her. “I’m so close.”
“I love hearing you say that,” he panted in her ear, redoubling his efforts.
And when her pleasure crested, nerves sparking and in a hazy glow of hectic joy, she cried out and wrapped her arm around his neck, crushing him against her.
His fingers slowed, soothing her as she came down from her climax.
Ellen panted, her breasts pushed between them.
Her nipples throbbed with each press against his chest.
Mark gave her a moment, then reached for the sheath resting on the nightstand. He knelt up, erection ruddy and throbbing. He worked the thin rubber on his penis, tugging downward until it covered him.
“How does it stay on?”
Mark reached over and pulled a thin, blue ribbon from the box and held it out to her.
“Oh, are you going to tie it in a pretty bow?”
He burst into laughter.
“Make it a present just for me?” she teased.
“Ellen, stop making me laugh!” He shook with laughter. “Do you know what happens when I laugh this hard? All the blood leaves!”
She threw back her head and cackled. “Oh, you poor man.”
“Ellen!” he fumed, then gave up and collapsed beside her and wrapped his arms around her. “I love laughing with you,” he said after their amusement faded.
Ellen rolled to her side and stroked his chest. “I love laughing with you.” She glanced down at the rubber, half-fallen off now he wasn’t as aroused. “How is it?”
“Haven’t used it yet.”
“Will it…bother you?” She tried not to brace for his answer.
“What do you mean?”
“I’ve heard people say it makes it less pleasant, that it deadens your sensations.”
Mark shrugged. “Does that matter? It should be such a negligible difference. If contraception allows you to relax enough to enjoy intercourse, why wouldn’t I do that for you?
Even if it did reduce my pleasure by ten percent—which I doubt it shall—it only seems fair, because it would increase your pleasure a hundredfold. ”
Warmth spread through her chest, and she blinked back the burn of tears in her eyes. Overwhelmed, she leaned in and kissed his shoulder. “You’re wonderful.”
He gave her a puzzled look. “Thank you?”
She gathered her emotions and then sat up to stroke the inside of his thigh. “Now, let’s see what we can do for you.”
His eyes sparked with delight and he opened himself to her touch.
Ellen shivered and wrapped her coat tighter around her as she walked the last few blocks toward Tina O’Malley’s funeral at her parish church.
Freight carts and omnibuses crowded the main street, the noises of people and animals filling the cold air.
People hurried up and down the edge of the street, sidestepping one another in their haste.
Up ahead a woman held a bucket and a sign around her neck, calling out to the passersby.
Beside her stood another woman with another bucket, body more rigid against the cold.
As Ellen neared the women, the first turned toward her, and Ellen could read the sign. SALVATION ARMY – DONATE THREE PENNIES TO GIVE THE HOMELESS A HOT MEAL AND BED.
Wind-reddened cheeks were the only spots of color on the pale woman’s face, and she wore the dark military-style uniform the soldiers in the Salvation Army used as well as a wide-brimmed bonnet. A silver S was pinned to her collar. She nodded at Ellen, who nodded back.
They didn’t know one another by name, but they had seen one another on the streets.
Salvation Army had set up their headquarters and their rescue work in Whitechapel, in the East End of London.
But sometimes a few soldiers would seek donations further west. This young woman often guided prostitutes to the Hanbury Street Rescue Shelter.
“Street preaching today?” Ellen inquired.
The woman smiled. “Gathering donations for soap and soup today. We’d love to have you join one of our sieges at an outpost in the East End. Or perhaps a daily rations meeting?”
Ellen had never quite understood why the Salvation Army went with military themes. She declined joining a revival meeting at one of their places of worship, nor did she have time for a Bible reading each morning. But she appreciated much of the work they did.