Perfect Kisses

He marveled at her control. Even in extremis, she’d curbed her orgasmic cry. But then Miss Russell was not an impulsive woman. Or under most circumstances she was not, he thought with a smile.

Always a courteous lover, he waited for her fevered sensibilities to cool before slowly resuming his rhythm.

“I am smitten and enraptured,” she breathed, her eyes heavy with pleasure. “Although, never fear, I know my place.”

“Preferably under me,” Ormond murmured, thinking her tactful in the extreme. Women were always quick to stake claim, as though having sex somehow allowed them to intrude into his life. This little schoolmistress wouldn’t be demanding it seemed. The perfect woman, he fondly reflected.

“I couldn’t agree more.” She smiled sweetly and wrapped her legs around his waist.

She recovered quickly, matching his rhythm once again as though she’d not just climaxed. “We need more time,” he murmured, thinking a week or so would suit him with a woman of such carnal proclivities.

“I’d like that.”

Suddenly they both heard the orchestra for the first time since they’d entered the library as though aware once again of reality. Or perhaps the musicians had been on break and they hadn’t noticed.

Regardless, they became conscious of time.

“Once more before we go?” he said with a smile.

“Please, may I?”

His cock increased enormously at the guileless naivete of her response. He almost decided to disregard the possibility of exposure to have his fill of her tonight. Although, that thought died after the briefest of seconds. He was not so rash.

Also, he wanted more than the furtive interval allowed them here.

And while he didn’t know exactly why he wanted it, he knew he did.

“You feel glorious around my cock,” he whispered, forcing himself deep inside her.

“I adore-him-and you,” she whispered back, gasping as he bottomed out, stretching her taut, pulsing tissue.

“Have your fill,” he breathed, selfishly hoping it didn’t take her too long to come this time, settling into a slow, artful rhythm he’d perfected over the years. It was about feeling, not speed, positioning, not indiscriminating oscillation. It was about watching and listening-about paying attention.

In short order, Claire died away in blissful release once again, uttering his given name in a breathless litany of thanksgiving and joy.

Ormond climaxed a few moments later, although he was less vocal. But he went off the deep end with equal frenzy or in his case with unusual violence to sensibilities he didn’t realize he possessed.

Perhaps he had become too jaded.

Sex of late had not been particularly soul-stirring. Which made his reaction to Miss Russell even more surprising. But rather than overintellectualize his feelings, he decided instead to pursue further sensations with Miss Russell and once his breathing returned to normal, he said, “I’ll make it better next time. We won’t be so rushed.”

“You were excellent.”

He smiled, feeling as though he’d been graded. “Thank you. I enjoyed your company as well.”

She looked up and smiled back. “And thank you too for being-so dependable.”

“Selfish motive impels me.”

“Nevertheless, your selfishness also benefits me.”

He didn’t respond other than lift his chin toward the sound of music. “We should rejoin the festivities.”

She suddenly felt as though he were aloof, detached. It’s over. He’s had his fill and he’s bored, she thought, feeling a vast unhappiness. He hadn’t meant what he’d said when he mentioned not being so rushed next time. It was politesse only, a kind way of taking his leave.

“Just a minute. I’ll wipe you off,” he said in that same neutral tone as he rose from the sofa. Pulling an embroidered runner from a nearby table, he sat beside her and wiped his semen from her stomach. Shoving the stained cloth under the sofa, he said with a small sigh, “I hate to do this. I’d rather stay. But people might notice.”

It was astonishing how a few simple phrases could return joy to her life. “I understand. One must be sensible.”

As if on cue, a knock sounded at the door.

Claire instantly went pale. “We are found out,” she whispered.

“I expect it’s Catherine.” If anyone was serious about getting in, they would have put more strength behind their knock. “Let me see.” Reaching for his trousers, he stepped into them and strode toward the door. “May I help you?” he asked, in the event it wasn’t his cousin.

“Mrs. Bellingham is asking for Miss Russell.”

It was Catherine. “We’ll be there directly.” Without waiting for a reply, he returned to the sofa where Claire had already pulled on her shift and was sliding on her slippers.

She should have new slippers he thought, taking in the state of the worn leather. “It was Catherine,” he said instead. “Your aunt is looking for you. Don’t look so worried. We can exit the library and enter the ballroom through the refreshment room next door.” He nodded toward a narrow doorway set between bookshelves. “It’s a private entrance.”

“How convenient.”

“You needn’t speak in that tone. I have never made use of either the library or that door. Harry uses it. It allows him access to a concealed stairway leading to his bedchamber upstairs.”

“Oh,” Claire said in a very small voice.

He grinned. “I accept your apology. Now, do you need help?”

“With the buttons, if you please.” She pulled her gown from the back of the chair and lifted it over her head.

The buttons were quickly fastened and while Claire stood before a gilt-framed mirror pinning up her hair, Ormond dressed with the speed he’d acquired escaping women’s boudoirs.

“How do I look?” Claire nervously asked a few moments later, adjusting her decolletage before smoothing her palms over her skirt.

Ormond glanced up from buttoning his waistcoat. “You look perfect. Not a wrinkle in sight.”

“Now, you’re sure we can return undetected?”

“Positive.” He slipped on his coat, snapped his cuffs into place, and surveyed the immediate area for any missed items.

“How can you be so cool and collected?”

“Darling, no one will dare say a word to me.”

“They will still stare at me.”

“You worry too much. This is my cousin’s house. I visit often. Even if someone were to see us come out, I can show anyone I please the library. You’re a schoolmistress, after all. Why wouldn’t you enjoy seeing Harry’s collections?”

“Sometime I actually might.”

“Anytime, darling. Just say the word.”

He made her feel as though he could deal with any conceivable situation, that she was safe, that the world was his to command. “Thank you for your calm. I confess, this entire evening is intimidating.”

“You seemed relaxed a few moments ago.”

She blushed. “Thank you for that as well.”

“Au contraire. Thank you for making this miserable rout altogether enchanting. Ready?” He nodded toward the small doorway.

She nodded.

“Give me a second to unlock the main door.” He quickly did so, picking up his gloves in the bargain and slipping them on. Returning to her side, he said, “Plan on seeing me tomorrow after school.”

Yes, yes, yes, she wanted to say. Faced with reality, she said instead, “I usually go home soon after the school day is over.”