The Captain's Homecoming

He pressed his handkerchief into my hand. When I only looked at him, confused, he took the silk square back and carefully pressed its corner along my mouth. As he pulled it away, I saw the bloodstains from my cut lip. We both smiled shyly. Andrew leaned in and kissed me, making me wince slightly. Pulling back, he gave me a look of apology then tried again, even more gently. As our lips brushed against each other, his hands found their way yet again to my breasts, toying with my increasingly sensitive nipples.

I smiled against his mouth. “Quite insatiable tonight, aren’t you, Captain?”

“Yes,” he assured me, “I am.” He tilted me back again, lying over me and I felt his renewed erection pressing firmly against my legs. His hands continued to play with my breasts. I closed my eyes to enjoy the little spikes of pleasure running through my body. My ears began to pick up the hum of conversation and, beyond it, the swells of the dance music. I smiled to myself, pitying the party-goers if they were half as bored as I had been until my husband’s arrival.

My eyes flashed open as I felt Andrew lightly bit my right nipple. He cooled the heat, slowly circling the tender peak with his tongue. “Is that nice?” he asked, sounding for all the world as if he were inquiring about a cup of tea.

“Oh, yes, Andrew.”

He winked, tweaking my other nipple between his strong fingers until I squealed with a combination of pain and pleasure. My breast was released and, in a moment, Andrew’s handkerchief appeared before my vision. “You’d better bite down on something other than your lip,” he explained. Smiling, I took the piece of silk, but only held it wadded into my hand.

He tended carefully to the grievance that had cause my outcry, making my back arch to pressed the rounded bud further into his mouth. He suckled it eagerly, his hands moving to clasp my buttocks to hold me tight against him. He gently caressed my breasts with his mouth. Tilting my pelvis, I rubbed my hips sensually against his.

Removing his mouth from my skin, he raised himself, pulling me gently with him so I sat facing him on his lap, my chin resting on his shoulder. His hands continued to play with my bottom, raising and lowering me to brush against the bulge in his breeches.

“Julia, can I –” He didn’t finish, but I knew what he was going to ask. Don’t you know I’m yours for the taking?

Leaning back and smiling at him, I allowed my free hand to wander up to my breasts renewing the play he had abandoned. He watched me toy with myself as I waited for him to make a further advance. When he didn’t move for a minute or two, I decided to take the matter into my own hands.

My fingers fumbled slightly at his breeches fastenings. I licked my lips in anticipation as I pulled out the rigid shaft, already anxious to feel that hard virility inside me. One hand stroking him, I moved the other to pull my skirt back above my waist. Andrew reached out, closing his fingers over mine.

Taking both my hands in his, he pulled me up from the sofa, standing beside it. Turning me so I faced away from him, he wrapped an arm around me, his cheek pressed against mine. He didn’t move for a long moment, only stood still, holding me. Wondering what was wrong, I tried to turn to face him again, but he held me fast. “Andrew, d-do you want to wait until we’re at home?” Oh, God, don’t make me wait!

I felt his laughter shake his chest. “I don’t think I would last that long.” But he made no advances other than letting a hand slip back up to my breast. My breath caught in my throat, waiting for him. Finally, I heard the faint rustling of my dress and felt Andrew’s hand under my skirt, settling onto my backside. He caressed it a long time before tentatively asking: “Julia, will you let me take you from here?”

My body tightened instinctively at the suggestion. I couldn’t think of any particular reason to refuse him. Though we’d tried a few different positions, he’d never entered me from behind before. It seemed so – so animalistic. Dirty, even. I smiled to myself; we’d also never exchanged mouth play while only a few feet away from a crowded room, and I hadn’t thought twice about that. I bit my lip, belatedly remembering the deep cut on it. I had to admit, on a primal level, the suggestion excited me.

Andrew’s hand continued to massage my haunches as his mouth played over the back of my neck, sending chills down my spine. When his fingers slipped between my buttocks, I shivered. Could we really do this?

Andrew must have felt the slight relaxation of my body. He gently pushed me forward, bracing me against the sofa.

“Bend over, Julia.”

I did so, resting my shaking arms on the back of the sofa. I nervously felt him spread my legs. His reassuring touch managed to settle my nerves slightly as he lifted my skirt from behind, laying it over my back. His hands splayed over my backside, massaging the firm globes with strong, steady pulses. He stepped close to me. His hot erection pressed between my naked buttocks. Murmuring endearments, he rubbed his hands over my back beneath my dress. He shifted his hips repeatedly against my backside, rubbing his shaft up and down between the fleshy globes.

A hand slipped between my legs and fingered my channel, still wet from the actions of his mouth, but tight from anticipation and nerves. His fingers pumped in and out a few times, then disappeared. I found myself bracing against his impending entrance and consciously tried to relax.

Placing his hands on my shoulders, he leaned over my back and took me in one firm stroke. As his hard body thrust into mine, I felt unable to breath or move. The new position stretched me in unfamiliar ways. He pulled me wider and reached deeper than he ever had before. That, coupled with being unable to see him, gave me the frightening feeling of being taken by a stranger. My body clenched tightly.

“Am I hurting you, Julia?” He started to withdraw.

“No, no.”

“You’re sure?”

“Y-yes.”

Again, I deliberately relaxed as, with a soft groan, he pressed himself slowly back into me, then settled into the pull and drive that was so familiar and still so different. Despite my nervousness, my body slowly began to respond. I could see why Andrew wanted to try this, but I couldn’t shake the disorientation of not seeing his face.

As if he could read my mind, Andrew leaned even further over me and, not breaking the steady rhythm, began to whisper in my ear:

“Do you know how good this feels, Julia? Do you know how much I love being inside your warm, wet body?” His voice was low and hoarse as he moved slowly through me. “No other woman could make me feel this good. Only you. When I’m inside you, like I am now, I wouldn’t change places with God himself.”

My lover’s voice succeeded in making me relax, his words raising the heat in my body. My arousal announced itself in a flood of moisture through my sex, allowing him to thrust easily into my body. His pelvis pounded against my buttocks as he drove into me over and over, flooding me with delicious sensations.

“That’s it, Julia. Let me love your beautiful, delectable body. I dream of it every night. The comfort of your body, your eyes, your soul. Do you burn for me that way, Julia? Do you love having me inside you?”

Lost to coherent thought, I could only murmur, “Yes, Yes!” as he pushed steadily into me. I wanted to scream it to the skies. Briefly raising one hand from the sofa, I pressed Andrew’s handkerchief between my teeth, unable to stand the aching pleasure coursing through every limb.

Andrew reached a hand around my shaking body and found the sensitive nub of my sex. His fingers touched and fondled the tiny spot as his shaft stretched me wide, sending my body into a fever pitch. The handkerchief barely muffled the cries that escaped my throat with each plunge of Andrew’s pelvis. Wave after wave of euphoria flooded over me. It was too much! Surely my body wouldn’t survive.

Just when I thought I could stand no more, Andrew’s hands seized my hips, pulling me tight against him. His hot seed flooded into me, sending me once again over the precipice, my body shaking violently with the final climax.

When Andrew’s hands released my hips, I found myself unable to stand. Falling ungracefully onto the sofa, I turned to look up at him. He buttoned his breeches, then began to straighten his hair; I had pulled it loose at some point in our exchange. Straightening his clothing, he took up his coat from over the sofa-back and turned to leave the alcove.

“Andrew–!” Where was he going? How dare he be so unaffected?

My husband turned. Crossing back, he knelt before me. “In ten minutes, I want you to leave this alcove and find our hostess. Once you’ve taken your leave, I’ll be waiting outside with the carriage.” He lowered his head and left a slow, wet kiss on my right nipple. After he pulled away, he seemed about to speak, but changed his mind and gave the same careful attention to my left breast, adding a squeeze for good measure. “I’m taking you home, Mrs Harringsford, for I’m not nearly through with you.” His mouth moved close to my ear, his voice dropping to a whisper, “If I don’t have you screaming my name within the hour, I will have failed you miserably.” With those provocative words, he disappeared through the tapestry.

I lay back on the sofa for a moment.More? Not about to let the opportunity pass me by, I pushed myself up and moved to the mirror.

Andrew had looked hardly dishevelled as he left the alcove. The same could not be said of me. My breasts were covered with red love bites, my lips swollen from Andrew’s kisses, my dressed hopelessly wrinkled. And my hair!

I dealt with the dress first, smoothing the wrinkles as best I could, then re-fastening the bodice. The fabric felt tight against my overly-sensitive nipples. Several of the love bites were still visible, but I quickly remembered the fichu I had stuffed behind the sofa. I rescued it, and succeeded in covering the rest of the marks.

My hair was difficult as I had no brush or comb. I managed to tame it into some semblance of its former glory, but there was no doubt to an observant eye that I had been recently involved in some strenuous activity.

Probably less than half of the prescribed ten minutes had passed, but I slipped from the alcove anyway. I was just in time to see Andrew disappearing through the ballroom door. There was a slick substance finding it’s way down my leg. Andrew’s seed. I shivered with anticipation. Already, my body itched for his touch. Forcing my feet to be still instead of chasing after him was one of the more difficult things I’ve ever done.

I snatched a glass of champagne from the tray of a passing servant. The cool liquid was wonderful on my dry throat. As I lowered the glass, I found Lord Beaumont had appeared by my side.

“I’ve been looking for you, Mrs. Harringsford.” He glanced at my chest, his face falling to see it was once again covered.

“Have you?”

“Yes.” His gaze wandered over me, taking in the signs, a smile wandering to his mouth. “I see now you’ve been doing rather a lot of dancing.”

I swirled the remaining contents of my champagne glass. “You could say that,” I said smugly.

“Surely you must be tired. Should I find us a quiet couch for a little private – conversation?” he asked suggestively.

I nearly laughed. Beaumont...or Andrew. A difficult decision.

“Actually, I’m quite spent. Thankfully, Captain Harringsford is taking me home to bed.” I allowed myself one glance at his perplexed face, then walked away, seeking the party’s hostess.

I thought it very ironic that I escaped by pleading a headache. The matron cooed over me and, with an admonition to rest myself, called for my wrap. The cape was barely over my shoulders when I bolted out the door. Andrew was pacing beside his carriage and looked up as I practically ran down the walk.

“You’re three minutes early,” he scolded as I flung my arms around his neck.

“Are you complaining?” I asked as I pulled his mouth down to mine.

He silently pushed me into the carriage. I heard him bark orders to the coachman, “Piccadilly. And don’t spare the whip.” He climbed inside and knocked on the roof to signal the driver. As the carriage jolted into motion, I expected him to lunge for me. Instead, he calmly took the seat across from me, laid an ankle on the opposite knee and closed his eyes.

I watched him for a long moment as the carriage jolted along the rough road.

“Andrew?”

He opened his eyes. “Yes, m’dear.”

I reached over and touched his knee. He uncrossed his legs, knocking my hand from him. I frowned. He closed his eyes again.

“Andrew?”

This time, I only merited one eye. “Yes?”

I ran my fingers up his leg. He twitched, but I kept my hand on it. “I recall you describing something,” I said slyly. “Me, screaming your name.”

“Yes, I did. However, I added the time frame of one hour.” He pulled out his watch and consulted it. “And, according to my calculations, I still have forty-six minutes.” He winked. “Besides, the coachman would overhear.” He picked up my hand and returned it to my own lap. I crossed my arms, pouting.

He smiled slowly. “Well, perhaps it would be best not to press my luck.” Before I could react, he was beside me. His hands dived beneath my skirt, teasing and tantalizing. I reached for his breeches, but before I could manage the second button, the carriage came to a halt. Feeling the carriage shift with the driver’s descent, Andrew straightened my skirt as the door opened wide.

We had arrived at our London townhouse, where I lived most of the time, unless the Prince took the Tenth Hussars down to Brighton for an extended time. When this happened, I was usually given accommodations in the Pavillion itself. The Prince made no secret that he wished to exercise hisdroit de seigneurwith me, as he had with the wives of most of his friends. The fact that he had not yet succeeded was no doubt the reason for his generous hospitality.

Entering the house, we threw off our wraps and made immediately for the stairs with barely a nod to the butler. Nearly tripping over each other, we stumbled into my bedroom. Even as Andrew turned the key in the lock, my hands flipped the last buttons of his breeches, from which his hardened shaft sprang, ready and eager. My mouth watered at the sight. I sank to my knees, wanting to feel him between my lips.

His hands reached under my shoulders and pulled me back up. “We’re on a schedule, Julia, and we only have –” He pulled out the watch again. “– thirty-nine minutes. Now you’d best get rid of that dress, before I rip it off you.”

I slowly raised my hand to the top button of my bodice, ready to give him a teasing display. I hadn’t counted on Andrew following through with his threat, however. Suiting action to word, he attacked the buttons of my dress, and actually did end by sending more than one of them flying across the room. He pushed the fabric from my shoulders. It settled into a pool at my feet.

There was no fire in the room, making my body erupt in gooseflesh. My nipples contracted instantly into hard nubs. Andrew’s hand drifted to them, but, teasing him, I stepped back. His eyes glittering, predatory, he backed me quickly across the room until my legs hit the side of the bed and, startled, I fell onto my back.

Andrew didn’t break eye contact as he swiftly caught my leg and knocked off my shoe, then pulled the ribbon of my garter, slipping the stocking off. It’s mate followed it. Now completely naked, I lay back, smiling, as Andrew’s eyes roved over me. I began to push myself up, but he quickly shook off his lethargy and, before I could raise myself, climbing over me, pining me between his legs, his shaft resting just below my breasts as he sat on my hips.

He stripped off his coat, tossing the garment heedlessly over his shoulder. Only pausing to remove his watch, he gave his waistcoat no more consideration. Laying the watch on the bedside table, he then stripped off his shirt, revealing his body to the waist. My hands reached up to stroke his sculpted chest, pausing to play lightly with his nipples.

In order to remove his breeches, he was forced to release me. He stood beside the bed, his back to me. I crawled forward on the bed to slid my hands around him, revelling in his naked skin, and began stroke him where it counted most. He shivered, but managed to remove his stockings and shoes, then his breeches, despite my attempts at distraction. They hadn’t hit the floor before I was pulling him back onto the bed, panting with excitement.

“Still eager are you?” He clicked his tongue. “You obviously have no idea what you’re in for.”

I felt a thrill. “What are you going to do to me?”

He gestured to the table holding his watch. “Time is money. I’ll show you instead.” He pushed me onto my back, his strong fingers slipped into me, groping, probing.

I pulled away, smiling. “Tell me.”

His voice was tight, showing his need to be raging as high as my own. “First,” he said darkly, stretching out beside me, his head propped up on his elbow. “I am going to fondle and stroke your body until you are mad with need.”

His hands wandered back to me, I allowed him to touch me. I lay back, feeling his hands touch my face, my breasts, my hips, my legs, everywhere but the place that yearned most for him. He steadily ignored it, despite my arching hips. Finally, when I gave a loud moan of frustration, he chuckled and softly touched the wet folds.

He spread my legs wide as he moved between them, then trapped my wrists on either side of my head. I felt his hot, delicious manhood at my entrance. He wedged the tip into the tender, moist opening, but did not enter me. I squirmed and arched my hips, but with no success. After a minute or so of struggle, I pleaded, “Come in me!”

“Then,” he said, his voice shaking, “as you’ve no doubt guessed, I’m going to invade your magnificent, wet, welcoming body.”

He braced my hips against his and pushed himself almost harshly into me, stabbing me with his erection. In the pause that followed, I held my breath, waiting for him to start that glorious, ancient, pounding rhythm. He was still. I squirmed against him, with no response. I wrapped my legs around him, and with a great effort, shifted my hips under his, but he still did not move. “Now!” I gasped, unable to articulate any further. “Oh God, now!” My channel was burning with the need for release

“Then,” he breathed, “I’m going to drive myself into you, again and again.” Slowly, Andrew’s hips began to move. “Until you can stand no more, and your passage is flooded with my seed.”

Andrew’s hips ground into mine as his manhood charged me again and again. The rhythm was slow, but strong. I raised my hips against his, trying to speed it, but he kept it steady, which was of no help to my shaking body and my burning loins.

“Faster!” I breathed. “Harder!”

He obligingly increased the power of his thrusts, shaking the bed with their force, but no amount of pleading would make him speed the steady invasion. Again and again, I gasped and panted and begged him, to no avail. The wet sound of our joining drew tears of frustration from my eyes as he used me gloriously, beautifully, but without fulfilment.

Then, I heard a hoarse whisper. “My name!”

“What?” I gasped between his tremendous thrusts.

“Say my name!” he demanded.

“Andrew,” I gasped. Immediately, he began to use me even harder. I felt the heat finally begin to build within my centre. “Andrew,” I repeated, “Andrew!” I chanted it with every thrust as he pulled me slowly along the steady climb to the culmination, where the word was torn from my throat in a final death cry. “Andrew!”