Chapter 34
Thirty-Four
Mrs. Smith prepared a simple meal for dinner and the guest rooms for Harry again. Agnes felt guilty requesting the rooms to be made up, knowing that Harry would not be sleeping in them. However, out of respect for Richard’s memory, she would continue to make a show of sleeping in separate chambers.
Following the meal, they both dismissed themselves for the night within earshot of the staff, and then Agnes waited. She watched the street out her window, stroking Bram in her lap until she heard the silence of a sleeping house.
It was probable that these were the final days of calling this house her home.
Despite the injustice of it all, she and Harry had found a way.
The life ahead seemed sweet, but change was still difficult.
She wished that Richard would visit her once more before she had to leave, so that she could say her goodbyes.
Richard had been sick for a long time before his passing. Watching his body deteriorate over time removed the urgency of the final moments. They had both acknowledged that death was coming, but still it had caught her by surprise.
She must have dozed off in her chair because a knock in the darkness woke her. An image of the paperweight rolling on the floor flashed in her mind, but the knock had come from the door. The haze lifted as she remembered her expected visitor. He slipped in before she could say a word.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to barge in. I heard someone coming down the hallway.” They stood motionless as the sound of footsteps grew louder, then quieter.
“It must be one of the servants, but I’m not sure it really matters anymore. I don’t believe we are fooling any of them.”
He sighed. “Probably not.”
“Did you at least disrupt the coverlet on your bed so it looks like you slept there?”
“No,” he said with a chuckle. “I’m not a master of trysts, so I’m not as well versed in the techniques as you seem to be. Why are you so sneaky, Lady Skelton?”
He brought his lips to hers, still grinning. Her heart fluttered with excitement. Earlier today, she had thought she would never get to kiss him again.
“Take me to bed.”
“My pleasure, the future Mrs. Evans.” With this, he lifted her up, pressing kisses onto her neck as she giggled through the overwhelming sensations. He spun her around and crossed the distance to her bed. She thumped onto her mattress.
“Sorry. I had hoped to do that with more grace, but I became slightly dizzy.”
“Come here.” The laughter they shared together made her feel weightless, causing each tingle of desire to push her higher. She pulled his weight on top of hers. The pressure reminded her where she was, who she was. He pushed his tongue into her mouth in a kiss of both passion and apology.
Tears formed. Not tears of sadness. Tears of relief. She loved this man. He offered her the protection she thought she would be without. She could survive on her own, but she didn’t want to. She chose passion.
Maybe she was wanton or the unadulterated definition of a merry widow, but that didn’t matter. He was hers now.
With his tongue still entangled with hers, she felt the fabric of her night rail lift up her thighs.
There was no time to fully undress. In the wake of his absence, her body had yearned for his touch.
First she would have him quickly, and then they could strip off their clothes and make love in leisure.
She desired to take control, pulling herself from underneath him. He sat up to look at her, worry marking his brow. “Agnes, what’s wrong?”
“Shhh.” She pressed her finger to his lips. “Allow me.” She pushed him firmly down onto his back and straddled him. Her fingers worked the buttons to undo the top flap of his trousers. As she managed each button, she could feel him growing harder under the fabric.
She pulled them down by the waistband, and his cock struggled for freedom under his union suit. More buttons. She gripped his length over the suit, teasing him, and leaned forward to place soft kisses around his jaw. His eyes glazed in ecstasy.
“Let me thank you for the surprise.” He snapped to attention, reaching up to pull her face down to meet his gaze.
“Agnes. You do not need to thank me. I want to provide for you. You have no obligations in return.”
She pouted. His eyes dropped to her lips, darkening. She had a wicked thought. “Let me provide for you, then.”
“I can’t resist that, but I mean it. You do not need to reciprocate how I care for you. Just being with me is enough.”
“Then let me be with you.” She pulled away from his mouth, feathering her kisses to his neck.
She wanted to explore his chest, but she didn’t have the patience for all the buttons.
So instead, she skipped to the good parts, freeing him with the unfastening of three strategically chosen buttons.
As she took his cock into her hand, he hissed.
“Agnes,” he ground out.
“Yes?” She flashed him a seductive grin.
“I’m not going to last, and we haven’t done anything for your pleasure yet.”
“I thought it wasn’t about reciprocating.”
“I need you, Agnes. I want to be inside you, in more than just your hand.”
“I want that too.” She had been reading some of the submissions for the Antinous Journals that described intimacy between men, often referencing pleasure given by the mouth. It seemed simple enough. She licked the tip of his cock.
He nearly jumped off the bed. “My God, Agnes. That’s not what I meant.” She looked at him, disappointed.
“Oh, you don’t enjoy this?”
“No!” he shouted, causing her to flush with embarrassment. “No, I meant yes, I enjoy this.”
“Well, then . . .” After a few more licks, she took the rounded head into her mouth, stroking the underside with her tongue.
Encouraged by his moans, she took him deeper.
It was all still an experiment. She found that his moans grew louder the harder she sucked.
It was quite amusing after he had called her the noisy one.
He thrust his fingers into her hair, cupping the back of her head. His legs twitched and knocked into her sides as she tried to hold him down.
“Enough!” he said, attempting to pull her off of him. “Fuck, you feel amazing, but I need to be inside you.”
“You are.” She winked.
“Stop being a little minx. You know what I mean. I want your cunny.” He was meeting her at her own game. Who would have thought that the trembling Mr. Evans, esteemed accountant, would have such a vulgar tongue?
The naughtiness of it all just heightened her arousal. She grew hot and wet in the very place he wanted to claim. As he tried to flip her over, she wagged her finger in the air and gave him a stern tsk, tsk. She lifted herself over his standing cock and sunk down.
The fullness hit her all at once. She gasped, and then her deep, guttural moan filled her bedchamber.
“What a vocal lady. I can barely control myself when I hear you.” He grabbed her by the hips to guide her movements up and down. They fumbled before finding their rhythm, but his length rubbed the front of her channel and intensified everything.
His hand came between them, rubbing her sensitive nub.
Supporting herself with one hand on his thigh, she placed her other hand on top of his.
She loved to feel him work her body, the strength of his fingers expanding her lust for him.
He was touching all parts of her, but her body wanted even more.
“Come first, Agnes.”
“I’m almost there,” she said, and she was. The darkness encroached on her vision, and tension crept up her spine. The waving rhythm of his hips, firm and exaggerated, broke her. She came undone.
He stilled and then lifted her off of him, spilling onto his own stomach. This man was her own remedy for a passionless life.