#3: A Night of Scandal
1716 Words
With shaky hands, I began unlacing my corset.
"Let me," he said, stepping closer.
“Thank you,” I murmured, not wanting to dwell too much on the fact that this was the first time I had ever let a man get this close to me. The first time I had ever let a man undress me. And when his hand touched the bare skin at my back, I let out a slight sound that danced between a moan and a gasp. It was going to be the first time I ever allowed a man to touch me in this way.
His hands found the hem of my chemise and lifted it slowly. Some of the tension eased, but not all of it. Heat still pooled low in my belly.
I raised my arms, letting him pull my chemise over my head. The fabric caught on my hair, and he freed it gently, his fingers brushing my neck.
Then his hands were at my waist, untying ribbons, pushing fabric down until it pooled at my feet.
"Step out," he murmured, his voice gentle like he was trying to guide me on some journey I had clearly never embarked on.
I did, and suddenly, I was aware of how little separated us. How close he was. How warm.
His hands slid down my thighs next, untying garters, rolling down stockings with agonizing slowness.
And then there was nothing left between us.
“Can I kiss you?” he whispered, as though it were a gentle prayer, and I nodded, slowly turning to face this stranger I was about to share everything with.
His palm cupped my face. He lowered his head, eyes searching mine. I inched closer.
His eyes closed. Our lips met.
My companion’s lips were soft, and they danced against mine in a melody I was almost sure that I would never forget. Tongue brushed against tongue in ways I didn’t even believe possible, and soon I was falling against the sheets in ways I didn’t even know how.
It was safe to say that my brain had turned to complete mush, and all I knew was that I needed and wanted more of this.
Standing at the edge of the bed, his body clearly ready for what came next.
My eyes traveled down his body and stopped.
Once again, they settled on well… the err… demonstration for the night. So, this was what Ophelia had been exposed to? This was what all married women dealt with? The anatomical sketches I'd studied had been... optimistic.
"You're staring again," he murmured.
"I'm recalculating," I admitted.
He laughed. "It'll fit. I promise."
"That seems unlikely."
"Trust me." He settled over me, and the weight of him, the heat, drove every coherent thought from my mind. "You wanted a demonstration." His voice was rough. "So touch me. Learn."
My hand shook, and my gaze traveled upward till it met his eyes. Those dark pools settled on me, studying me in the same way I had learned my journals back home. He was curious as to what I was going to do next, now, wasn’t he?
Ignoring every voice in my head screaming scandal, I reached out and touched him.
Oh.
He was hot. Hard as steel but with skin softer than I'd expected. I traced one finger along the length, feeling the ridge of a vein, the way he pulsed under my touch.
He made a sound, low and strangled, and his hips jerked forward involuntarily.
"God," he gritted out. "Your hands—"
Power flooded through me. I was doing this to him and making him lose control. Me.
I wrapped my hand around him entirely, and his eyes nearly rolled back. If this was scandal then I fully embraced it.
“This is a nice demonstration,” I whispered, my hands still moving up and down his length.
His lips formed a small smile. “I can make it even nicer for you.”
Without warning, he stopped my hand and moved downwards. I was utterly at a loss as to what this man meant exactly until I felt something wet and hot wrapped around my n****e. A breathy sound I didn’t even believe was possible escaped my lips. With his free hand, he grabbed my other breast and gently caressed it before squeezing it. Hard.
All thoughts of scandal fled.
His mouth left my breast and traveled lower. Kisses trailed down my stomach. Lower still. Lower than my small mind could have ever imagined.
Wait.
Where was he—
His hands gripped my thighs, spreading them.
"What are you—" I started.
Then his mouth found me, and all thought fled entirely.
I gasped. Jerked. What—
His tongue. Oh God, his tongue moved against me in ways I'd never imagined. Hot and wet and utterly overwhelming. Every nerve ending I possessed zeroed in on that one spot.
"Wait—I can't—" The words came out broken.
He didn't stop. His hands gripped my thighs, holding me in place as his mouth worked magic I had no words for.
Sensation built. Pressure coiled low in my belly, tighter and tighter. My hands fisted in the sheets. Sounds I'd never made. Sounds I would have been mortified to make fell from my lips.
I tried to stay quiet. But I failed. I tried to stay still. And just like before, I failed.
My body had taken over, and my hips rose to meet his mouth shamelessly. I had become a wanton mess. A scandalous wanton mess that this man refused to let go because almost immediately, his hands caught my hips, forcing them to stay in place.
Pressure exploded. I cried out loud, shamelessly, and beyond caring. Wave after wave of pleasure crashed through me, and all I could do was surrender.
When I finally came back to myself, I was trembling. Boneless. Completely undone.
He moved up my body, settling over me. His eyes were darker than before. Somehow, they were hungry and satisfied all at once.
"Did you like it?" His voice was rough.
I couldn't speak. Could only nod.
“Ready for what comes next?” he asked, and again I nodded even though I wasn’t exactly sure of what would come next. What he had just done had transcended every reality I knew that existed.
It was only when he settled above and spread my legs again that full awareness came. On instinct, my hands found his shoulders, and I swallowed.
He positioned himself between my legs. I felt him there. Present, needy, hard, and hot against my entrance.
This was it.
"Look at me," he said softly.
I did. His eyes held mine.
This was it. My fingers tightened around his shoulders, my nails almost digging into his skin as I anticipated the pain that my journals did not fail to mention.
He pushed forward. Slowly.
I gasped. Burned. It was—too much—I couldn't—
"Breathe," he murmured, stopping immediately.
I tried. My hands gripped his shoulders hard enough to bruise.
"More?" he asked, voice strained.
"Yes. Don't stop."
He moved again. Deeper. The burn intensified, then—
He was fully inside.
We both froze.
For a long moment, neither of us moved. I was adjusting to the impossible fullness, the stretch, the ache that wasn't quite pain anymore.
"Okay?" he gritted out.
"I... I think so."
He withdrew slightly, then pushed back in.
Oh.
That was—
He did it again. And again. Building a rhythm.
The pain faded. Something else took its place. Pressure. Heat. A coiling tension that built with every thrust. So this was what it felt like?
My hips rose to meet him. Sounds fell from my lips. I stopped trying to be quiet. The bed creaked beneath us, mixing in the symphony of lewd sounds that we both made. His musky scent invaded my senses, pushing me to the brink of overload.
"That's it," he breathed. "God, you feel—"
The tension snapped. Not as intense as before, but still, I shattered again, smaller but real.
***
In my journals, back at home, I had read that s*x was as good as any sedative there was out there. Time seemed to blur into one giant abstract mush, and I could hardly tell when I slept and when I woke up. What I did know was that I woke up earlier than the man who had just taken my virginity.
Not wanting to deal with the aftermath of everything that had happened last night, I picked up my clothes in a hurry and laced my corset in the shortest time known to any woman.
I only spared one look at my companion before I left. He was still asleep, dark hair mussed, one arm flung across the space where I'd been. Beautiful. Dangerous. A stranger whose name I didn't even know.
Something heavy settled on my chest. I'd never see him again. Good. That was good. This was supposed to be one night and nothing more.
My trek back to my house was unfortunately shorter than I would have liked.
This was the first time I had spent a night out, and although I was sure that Ophelia would cover for me, it still didn’t dull the angst that was now beginning to fester.
My hand hovered on the doorknob, and in the few seconds leading up to my opening the door, I prayed that I would meet with Ophelia’s face and not my parents. I was still on the high from last night, and I wasn’t exactly ready to let go of it due to my parents’ interrogation.
Holding my breath, I pushed all thoughts aside and opened the door.
Much to my dismay, God hadn’t answered my prayer.
Standing before me was my mother, with her all-too-familiar frown. Taking in a deep breath, I prepared myself for the endless questions and curses, but nothing could have prepared me for the words that left her mouth.
"Your sister has chosen to disgrace us and run away. So, you will be the one getting married today. Get ready."
My world tilted.
I'd stolen one night of freedom.
And now I'd pay for it for the rest of my life.
- Writer
