Memoirs of Lady Montrose by Virginnia DeParte Read Free Book Online

heartbeat, her silk knickers rustled down her legs. He lifted her feet, one after the other, to untangle the fabric from her ankles. In a fluid movement he parted her legs, his shoulders easing her legs wider as he reached up and massaged her buttocks. He clamped his mouth onto her clitoris and sucked. God, it was wonderful. This unexpected event in her afternoon filled her with wantonness, the mores of society abandoned in this dusty shed.
    Her legs bent and he moved farther into her pussy with his tongue, lapping, probing, darting and stroking. Her knees bent and she leaned over his bulk to hold on to the bench. He brought her to a shuddering climax that scattered her senses. He drank her nectar until sated. She trembled, eyes closed, immobile with euphoria, as her brain registered him moving to stand behind her. He lifted her skirt up so it bunched over her shoulders like a shawl. She gripped the bench as he entered, parting her sex with his fingers to guide his hardness in.
    Mortlock stretched forward while he had her pinioned. He undid her dress and sought her breasts, tumbling them out of her brassiere, holding them captive as he squeezed. At the same time he pushed his cock in time with each tightening grasp. Desire had her pushing back against him, aiding his journey deep into her heat.
    To be surrounded by sharp edges, long handles and hard tools, the smell of fertiliser and spray tickling her nostrils heightened her senses and made their lovemaking exciting. The sound of a thrush singing in the plum tree above the window echoed her joy as she climaxed.
    Satisfied, she leaned on the bench. Mortlock rested his chest on her back and so they stayed for some moments. She savoured every sound and smell and stored them away in her memory, to be relived again and again. At last he withdrew, lowered her dress with care and bent down to retrieve her knickers off the floor.
    “Madam, I believe these are yours,” he said, offering them to her.
     She tucked them into her brassiere. “Such a pleasant surprise, Mortlock,” she said, repositioning her breasts and re-buttoning her dress.
    Secateurs in hand, she and Mortlock stepped side to side with each other before he stood still and allowed her to walk around him. “Thank you, Mortlock.”
    “My pleasure, m’lady.”
    “And mine.”
    Warmth tingled between her thighs and she enjoyed the sensation of the afternoon air caressing her limbs as she wandered around the garden snipping the roses.
     
    * * * *
     
     On Saturday, she wore the freshly laundered dress to the races. Every time it rustled around her ankles she remembered Thursday, the day Mortlock fucked her in the garden shed. Charlotte thought she smiled so much because her horse came in second. Both the horse and the dress paid an unexpected dividend.
     

Chapter Seven
     
     
     
    Thursday
     
    Already the dew of anticipation dampened her thighs. She brushed Henry’s suit, with firm quick strokes over his shoulders and down his sleeves, ensuring no minute particle of lint spoilt his immaculate appearance. He reached for his walking cane, removed it from the hat stand by the front door, and lowered his head. Their lips met in a soft caress.
    “Do you really need to go to the House today, Henry? Wouldn’t you prefer to stay?”
    “Of course I’d prefer to stay home, Helen, but business calls and I’m needed in the House. We have a vote to take. I must be there.” He kissed the tip of her nose and slid his hand inside her silk dressing gown to give her breasts a final stroke. “I’ll let Mortlock work his magic on you today, but watch out tomorrow night, my darling. Our threesome unlocked my erectile dysfunction. It’s gone. Let’s hope it’s gone for good.”
    She watched him climb into the black London taxi waiting at their gate, and waved to him as it drove away. Expectation lifted her steps to a skip as she headed to the guest quarters at the rear of the house.
    The sunlight warmed the small lounge