Jane Lark - The Tainted Love of a Captain

Harry’s lips lifted off her breast, pulling it as he sucked her nipple one last time, then his hands dented the mattress on either side of her.

She opened her eyes as he moved over her and her hands traced the contours under his skin, over his chest and arms, then settled on his shoulders as his gaze met hers.

When he pressed into her, it was done slowly, and still gently.

‘You are very pretty,’ he said as he began to move.

‘And you are very handsome.’

He smiled at her as he continued working. It was still nice, even with him inside her. He had sweetened it with gentleness. Enchanting sensations swirled through her lower body, gradually rising in intensity, grasping her attention. She did not think of other things as she did with Mark. It was impossible to think of other things with Harry.

Her fingers combed back Harry’s short hair, then trailed over his skin again, following the bulges of the muscles on his arms and his chest, as she rocked up against him, while he pressed into her with a slow enthralling pace.

With Mark it was always hurried and forceful, and often painful, but this… there was no pain, and no force—it just was. And it felt… beautiful. She had never thought she would say that about joining with a man, but he was even more beautiful without clothes and this was wonderful.

The feelings in her body spun higher, as though Harry’s movement whipped them up like a strap flicking at a spinning top. These feelings had risen from her stomach to her chest and were in the back of her throat and then they broke like a wave on the shore, frothing and washing out into her arms, her mind and her legs. She cried out with the pleasure of it.

Harry’s pace did not change, but his head lowered and he kissed her neck, her collarbone and her shoulder. She sighed and inside—writhed. The sensations danced through her continuously, racing over each other like waves tumbling on top of one another as she was thrown about in their white foam.

After a while, although she had no idea of how long because she had lost all sense of time, he clasped the back of her thighs and rolled on to his back, pulling her on top of him. Then his hands lifted and pressed either side of her head, his fingers curling into her hair as she knelt over him and he pushed up into her. His pace then was quicker and more powerful. Though even then he did not rush but moved in a way that seemed to focus on his pleasure. But the movement brought her pleasure too.

He turned again, tipping her on to her side.

It was like a sensual dance. Their arms and legs were all tangled up as they moved about the bed, in various positions that brought up different feelings inside her.

Harry knew how to do this in a way Mark did not and all the time her fingers ran over his skin, touching and appreciating as she looked at his beautiful eyes and face and her body grasped at every sensation and let wave after wave of pleasure wash over her.

Then finally Harry rolled her on to her back once more and pushed hard into her over and over, his pace quick and sharp, and then she felt his release throb inside her. Only it did not spill inside her, it spilled into the thing that he wore.

He withdrew from her body and lay on his back.

She rolled to her side and her arm reached across to hold on to him. The emotions still swayed inside her. ‘I have never enjoyed it before.’

He laughed. She could feel and hear the rumble of it in his chest.

‘How many men have you lain with, then?’

‘Only Mark.’

‘Colonel Hillier is the only one?’

‘Yes.’

‘Then how many years have you been with him?’

‘Seven.’

He breathed out a long breath, as though her answer had disturbed him. Then his hand rested on her head and his fingers began playing with her hair.

~

Charlotte sat up suddenly, her hand pressing on his stomach. The motion woke him.

Lord, he’d fallen asleep. ‘What hour is it?’ He sat up too, throwing back the covers.

‘I have no idea. I fell asleep.’

They had slept together, then. He walked over to fetch his pocket watch from his coat. ‘Six.’

‘Oh dear.’ When he looked back she was already hurriedly pulling on her underwear.

There was a jug of water and a washing bowl on a stand in the corner, he washed out the sheath and then began to dress.

She turned with her corset in her hand. He had only succeeded in putting on his underwear. ‘Will you help me?’

‘Yes. Turn around.’

She held her corset against her stomach as he threaded the laces at the back. It was far easier undoing the thing than it was doing it up. He had never done that before. When he’d left women before he had left them in a room in a bed or at the door, placing money on the bed or into their hand.

This was a very strange affair.

When he was done, she glanced across her shoulder. ‘Thank you.’ Then she stepped away and picked up her petticoats.

He attended to himself. Put on his stockings, then his trousers, then pulled on his shirt and tucked that into his trousers as she buttoned up the front of her dress. He was tugging on his boots as she came across the room to fetch her hair pins.

He slid his arms into his scarlet coat and then secured the buttons watching her, fascinated, as she deftly twisted her hair and then stuck pins into it to keep it up. Her hair was a magnificent colour. So bright. If it was dressed formally, as his mother’s and sisters’ hair was at times, she would stand out in any ballroom.

She picked up her bonnet, then realised he’d finished dressing and was watching her. She smiled with that hint of awkwardness and the shy nature that had been there before they’d used the bed. When she put on her bonnet and tied the ribbons her hands trembled as they’d done when she’d come up to the room. ‘I think I will be in trouble.’

He did not know what to say to that. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘It is not your fault we fell asleep.’

No. It was not. But it had been a very odd thing to do.

‘I must hurry.’ She walked past him and opened the door before he could reach it. Then she hurried on down the stairs ahead of him.

He breathed steadily, keeping the pace of his breaths calm, even though his heart pumped harder in an uncommon way as they walked through the inn and then out into the street. He walked as far as the corner with her, though she did not give him the chance to offer his arm because her steps were so quick.

At the corner she looked at him. ‘Thank you. I enjoyed it. Will we do it again?’

Lord… Will we do it again? The words echoed through him. ‘Yes.’ The answer came from his tongue without thought, but now it was spoken the thought followed, and yes… He wanted that. ‘I am on duty until the evening tomorrow, but the day after I will be free.’

‘Shall I meet you here at the same hour?’

‘Yes.’

‘Goodbye, then.’ She bobbed a ridiculous little curtsey at him.

‘Goodbye, Charlotte.’

She turned and walked away, hurrying once more. He watched her until she was out of sight. Then he returned to the inn to collect Obsidian.

Everything felt strange, different. Which was absurd. Sleeping with a woman changed nothing. Yet certainly he was calmer than he remembered being in a long while and his mind continually reflected on images and sensations from the time he’d spent with her, it did not recall images of war.

It had been different from any other encounter he’d had with a woman, though.

She had been… He did not even know how to describe it. Refreshing, certainly. But it was not that; it was the way she had performed, or rather not performed at all. When they had been in the bed she’d done nothing like a whore. There had been no sound, or movement, that had felt forced, acted or exaggerated. It had simply been what it was—the only honest encounter he’d ever had with a woman. And he had not even paid her, when he would have paid triple for the service she’d given him. He felt so relaxed.