Inebriated Epiphany

"All right," she said agreeably, and pursed her lips to prepare for a smooch. Smiling despite his growing urgency, he lowered his hand and lightly parted her lips with his fingertip. "Not quite like that. Keep your mouth open but don't talk. That's the way it's done, you know." It was almost as if he were speaking to a child, and the child obeyed him without a second thought.

When their lips touched he thought he would leap out of his skin. Wrapping his arms around her back and pulling her tightly against his chest, his heart hammered excitedly and his mind raced at how well everything was progressing. Her lips were so soft, he wanted to nibble at them, devour them. But he was too busy tasting her as his tongue, first tentatively then hungrily, swirled against hers.

Suddenly, she broke away and asked with grave seriousness, "Now what do we do? The kissing part is easy."

A wolfish grin almost spread across his face. Almost, but not quite making it. "Hmm..." Fiddling idly with a long curl that had fallen onto his face, he asked curiously, "You want to do something besides kissing now?" Her expression changed abruptly and slight worry darkened his eyes. No doubt she was thinking back on the nights they had spent together. Could she have truly hated those twilight hours so much? Even as he worried he found his own mind remembering the feel of her skin against his, the satisfaction of burying himself deep into her, having her wrapped around him...His hips thrust upward without his permission, and he saw that she had felt him, hard and demanding, against her belly.

"Patrick," she said, her voice suddenly wavering with uncertainty.

"Yes?"

"I...this is all very strange..."

"It's not strange at all, I promise you. Now come to bed, love." Her eyes looked troubled, uncertain, but even so she was grinning. Ah, the benefits of brandy, he thought as he lifted her, bringing her with him. Grasping her under her arms he brought her to her feet. He grinned as well as it became obvious that she was having trouble holding up her own weight. Hoisting her over his shoulder, lightly patting her pert bottom with the palm of his hand teasingly, he eased her onto her back against soft sheets.

Then, in the most worried voice that he'd ever heard, she said, "Where is the cream?"

He blinked down at her, slightly dumbfounded by the question before answering, "I really don't think we'll need it tonight, my dear."

"Well," she began thoughtfully, troubled almost, "perhaps you're right...I feel very...odd, you know..."

To his utter surprise, her hips squirmed upwards and all he could respond with was a gulp of, "Esther!"

* * * * *

Esther felt her head spinning, and she shook her head back and forth trying to clear her mind unsuccessfully. "Esther," Patrick said gently. "Hold still." He quickly divested himself of his dressing gown and eased himself down over her.

"I saw you," she said clearly, staring up into his beautiful face all the while. "You're not nearly as...grand as Jasper." He wasn't sure whether this was a compliment or not but right now that wasn't his primary concern.

"And it's lucky for you that I'm not." Tweaking the end of her nose playfully, he began to attempt to undress her as well.

"However," she continued, her words starting to lilt with a Scottish brogue that he could scarce understand her, "however, you're very...inviting."

"Thank you. Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to remove this damn nightgown of yours."

"All right." She helped him ease it up, wriggling slightly to help expedite its quick removal. When the thin cloth was covering her face on its journey upward, she giggled again. "You look so terribly serious, Patrick, even through my 'veil'."

It's because I want you so badly I'm going to embarrass myself! he thought silently, yet another reminder of his own self-restraint thinning rapidly. As he finally untangled her from the confines of her nightgown and tossed it to the floor, she lurched up, grabbed his face between her palms, and kissed him soundly.

"Can I look at you, Patrick?" He blinked, so confused and surprised by this new Esther that he couldn't even gather his wits together.

"Please, lie down." He complied, feeling rather peculiar. He should be easing her, caressing her, whispering encouragement to her...not lying down at her beck and call. Yet he did so regardless and spread himself on his back. Esther came up on her knees and proceeded to give him serious study, scrutinizing him from the top of his head down to his toes.

While she examined him, he gazed up at her. The intent expression in her gray eyes, the taut dark rose nipples on her full breasts, breasts that were almost too full for her slender torso, that supple waist...He thought he wouldn't be able to control himself any longer when his eyes fell to her thighs and her nest of chestnut curls. Forcing his eyes back to her face, he jerked when he saw that she was staring at his enthusiastic manhood. He watched in fascination as her hand fluttered above him, then very slowly, ever so slowly, descended until she was just barely touching him.

"Oh!...How very odd." She blinked, as if awoken from her short trance with a newfound understanding. "You're soft, like silk almost...but you're so hard...and...alive...and almost...throbbing..."

"Esther," he managed to say between clenched teeth. "Please."

"You want me to kiss you again?"

Oh god, yes, he wanted her to kiss him, but he knew it would never occur to her to take him into her mouth. "Yes," he said, voice thin. The damned Scottish chit was seducing him!

He came up quickly and spun her onto her back with one swift movement. Gently, he smoothed her hair from her face and brought his thigh over hers, closing his eyes for a moment at the feel of her smooth flesh against his legs. He thought he'd burst from want, but then she giggled again, and he was forced to laugh at himself as well.

He had to get control again.

Very deliberately, he cupped his hand over her womanhood and pressed his palm against her. Esther looked profoundly worried at his touch.

"Give me your hand." She didn't move, instead she merely stared at him with a befuddled expression. Taking her hand, he brought it down and laid it beneath his, lightly pressing her fingers against herself. "Do you feel how moist you are? How hot and swollen your woman's flesh is?" She nodded, very seriously.

"Have you ever felt anything like this before?" She shook her head, expression unchanged.

"How could I have? You've never done that before." He couldn't be certain if she meant the game of cards from earlier or his recent actions, nevertheless, he agreed with a small smile. "Very true."

God, he hurt. He suddenly remembered a saying that he'd heard sometime in the past during his travels. Great men move slowly. Had the fellow meant in bed?

Easing her hands away, he began to caress her warm folds with his fingers, then paused a moment to see her reaction to his ministrations. "Patrick," Esther said, her hips rising off the bed slightly, "I want you to keep doing what you're doing...please." A pleased smile played across his features now.

"Certainly dear," he said with heartfelt sincerity. He deepened the pressure of his fingers, and she cried out. "I...can't seem to think properly!"

"Don't think," he cooed, "Just feel...What do you feel now?"

"I feel...I'm...I am going to...explode," she whispered, arching her head back. As am I, he thought, his body so frantic with need that he bit down on his lower lip. There was so much of her to enjoy, so much expanse of beautiful white skin. Moving quickly between her legs, he spread them to widen them more, and put his mouth to her belly.

Esther didn't think anything was funny now. She wanted to yell, she wanted...She didn't know what she wanted. Her fingers went to his hair, twining around soft strands, and tugged. When his warm mouth traveled lower and closed over her, she nearly leapt off the bed. "Patrick!" she cried out in a gasp.

"Shut up, Esther," he murmured roughly, his warm breath cascading over her, making her wild. God, he thought as he tasted her, as he scraped her soft swollen flesh with his tongue, she was perfect, utterly perfect. When he felt her legs stiffening, he knew that he wanted to see her face in her climax. Gently, he eased his fingers into her and raised his head.

She stared at him, completely lost at sea. Her voice exploded from her throat in a quaver. "Patrick?"

"Yes, Esther."

She yelled, her body stiffening, her eyes looking vague, then bewildered, then blind. It was the most perfect sight he'd ever seen in his life. He watched her teeth grip her lower lip. He watched her back arch up, watched as her hands fell helplessly to her sides. He felt the tremors hold her in a thrall, and he found himself breathing hard now, his body pounding, screaming demands that needed to be satiated.

Moving up over her, he seated himself to the hilt within her with one forceful thrust and felt the convulsive aftershocks of her pleasure. The small quivering shudders, her arms crushing him to her, and found her lips once again. He took her shuddering little cries into his mouth, letting his tongue dart into hers to swirl and tangle. Patrick was filled with an intense warmth, almost as if, he thought crazily, as if she were wrapped about him, around him, and inside him all at the same time.

"My god," he said aloud, his body shuddering as he thrust into her, and then he was lost in the most intense pleasure he'd ever experienced in his life. Esther locked her arms around his back, felt his deep moans penetrating deep into her being just as his manhood was throbbing frantically inside her.

Then she felt his final shudder, felt him flood her, so very deep, with his seed. His body was bathed in perspiration, he felt as though his pounding heart would leap out of his body. "Esther, my god," he said in a jerky sigh, and fell atop her, his head beside hers on the pillow.

"You were right," Esther said. "You didn't need any cream." She closed her eyes, and was asleep within moments.

Slowly, raising his sweaty body off of her and rolling onto his side, he glanced down at her peaceful expression, a small smile of contented bliss on her lips. Ah, he thought, grinning like a fool.

"Oh, Esther," he said softly as he gently shoved her damp hair from her forehead. "I think I'll feed you brandy for dinner every night." But of course, he continued in his mind, she was drunk, and drink stripped away inhibitions. Nevertheless, Jasper would be receiving an exultant visit from him in the morning.

He quickly rose, doused the candles, looked at his naked wife sprawled on the bed, and with a grin, climbed back into bed beside her. Drawing the covers over them, he eased her against him and held her tight as she nestled in his arms. His last thought before he fell into a deep sleep was whether or not her parents would arrive to find their precious daughter carrying a grandchild. Better yet, his child. Scheduled visit forgotten, sleep tugged persistently at him and a smile remained on his lips as his eyes finally closed.

* * * * *

Bridget said not a word. She'd known well enough that she shouldn't enter her mistress's room, but to be frank, she was a rather nosy woman. She smiled, gazing only briefly upon the man and woman in the bed, their bodies twined together, Lady Esther's head snuggled into the hollow of her husband's shoulder. She left, and her smiling face and smug expression were more than enough to begin yet another round of gossip among the servants downstairs...