Repercussions Pt. 03

Grady --- continued

He stood upon the veranda looking up at the mansion looming above him in the dark. 'Twas shortly before midnight, and he had already checked the garden, the stable, and the carriage house, and had circled the manor to reassure himself that all the windows were dark, and that no one was about. The Countess was ensconced in the west wing. The family's bedchambers were in the east wing: Lord and Lady Trimingham's upon the second floor, front of the mansion; Chloe's and Edwin's upon the third floor, rear aspect. Edwin was not here, and Harriet slept in the servants' wing. Chloe should be alone.

Even the heavens had cooperated for this miraculous last chance: 'twas a moonless night, and only the stars provided illumination, the better to conceal his ascent to her chamber.

After deciphering her message, he had hastened to his chambers to enjoy his elation in private and bide his time until the appointed hour. His belly had fluttered in excitement as he speculated upon her intentions for the meeting. To discuss what had happened between them in the laundry chamber? To discuss the future? To engage in another tryst? He had bathed, trimmed his side whiskers, and dressed with care in clean garments, selecting dark-colored trousers and coat. He had dispensed with his pocket watch and hat, neither being adapted to climbing walls.

Although he had never been inside it, he knew which chamber was hers. It had two windows, one with a balcony. Indeed, in his amorous imaginings, he had occasionally envisioned climbing to her chamber so. Would the ivy still bear his weight? He had last climbed it when but a lad; now he was a man full grown. Looking up, he saw a faint light coming from her windows. Grasping the meshwork of branches, he ventured the experiment --- the first branch held firm. So far, so good. Branch by branch he ascended, finding the sturdier limbs by sense of touch. Like the magic spiral of a genie from a bottle, the faint, ethereal scent of cherry blossoms lifted him. At several points the vine creaked and arched away from the stone --- but did not give way. At last he pulled himself level with her balcony and swung his body over the balustrade.

He peered through the leaded glass doors into the dimly lit chamber, not seeing the subject of his affections. Straightening his waistcoat and cravat, he took a deep breath. Trying the door handle, he found it unlocked and stepped inside, his heart beating fast. He confirmed the spacious room to be unoccupied, however the fire in the hearth and the candles by the bed suggested that the owner had not long been absent.

Grady looked about in wonder at being in her private sanctuary. In his state of amorous upheaval, his gaze forgivably went first to her bed. 'Twas a massive structure likely dating from the mansion's Tudor beginnings --- the columns and canopy were of rosewood carved with plants and whimsical creatures and hung with copper colored silk fabric. Carved rosewood comprised the headboard and continued around the lower half of the chamber walls. Above it, the walls were covered with copper colored silk fabric painted here and there with exotic birds and flowers. The fireplace was tiled with jade. Upon the ceiling, the plasterwork was molded into the form of elaborately entwined flowering vines, and on the floor was a finely patterned Persian rug. In the glow of the fire and candles, the decorations of flora and fauna produced an effect more like an enchanted forest than a chamber.

Growing up on the estate, he had of course seen many opulent bedchambers. Hers was that --- no surprise --- but the chamber was charmingly enhanced by the slight disarray of Chloe's habitation. Books and letters were scattered about. An odd number of gloves languished upon the divan. A simple pottery vase held a loose bouquet of wildflowers. Her bonnet with the forget-me-not blue ribbons lay upon its side upon a table (the memory of it falling to the floor in the laundry chamber prompted a rush of pressure in his groin).

Now too he noticed the paintings upon the walls. No portraits of somber Trimingham ancestors were these, nor were they of sleek hunting dogs or horses. Last winter during her visit to Paris she had purchased three paintings --- he had written the expenditures in the account book. He had oft wondered what they looked like, and now he had the opportunity to indulge his curiosity. One was of a shepherdess and her flock at a woodside stream. The second was of a high waterfall in a rocky countryside, the torrent of water gushing forth. The third was a harbor scene, with ships at dock and under sail, and the open sea on the horizon. All three canvases had a striking dream-like quality rendered by a deliberate imprecision of the artists' brush strokes, quite different from any paintings he had previously seen.

The harbor scene reminded him of his hope to go to America --- of his hope to have her companionship. His stomach twinged in nervous anticipation of making his proposal.

At that moment she appeared, emerging from a doorway upon the far side of the bed, clad only in a dressing gown over a nightgown. She started when she saw him, dropping the book she had been holding. Indeed, she seemed so taken aback that for a horrified moment he thought he had entirely misconstrued her message. "M-my lady," he stammered, bowing hastily. Her eyes were enormous, staring at him, her cheeks white. She opened her mouth as if to speak, but no sound issued --- her lower lip only trembled. He could see her chest moving with her rapid breaths. So distressed did she appear that Grady cast his eyes about for some remedy...brandy, smelling salts, a fan. Spotting a water carafe upon a table near the divan, he poured a goblet full and hurried over to her.

"Drink this, my lady. You are unwell." He pressed it into her hand. She drank in intermittent gulps. Mercifully it appeared to have a restorative effect: gradually her breathing slowed, and her countenance grew more composed. Grady found himself thwarted in his intention to make his declaration and proposal. It seemed most unchivalrous to ask a lady in her present state to elope halfway around the world.

As she regained her composure, he next found himself distracted by her dishabille. He had never seen her hair completely unbound: the thick locks cascaded in shining waves to her hips. She wore a dark green velvet dressing gown, tied at her slender waist. A white nightgown was visible beneath the vee at her neck. His mind reeled at the thought of the nakedness below that. Without wide skirts, crinolines, or petticoats, he appreciated anew just how petite her figure was.

Chloe set the goblet down upon the dressing table next to her and faced him with a calmer expression. "Mr. Woodbyrne," she said quietly. "Lady Chloe," he responded. The genteel words belied the turmoil he was experiencing, and perhaps she as well...for her eyes were still anxious. But perhaps he was presuming too much...mayhap her unease was simply due to the shocking indiscretion they were committing simply by being alone together in her bedchamber --- let alone at night and in a state of undress --- and not due to romantic feelings for him.

She looked up at him, seeming to search his face. "Mr. Woodbyrne..." she began, but her voice trailed away. He sensed her embarrassment at his longing gaze and attempted to moderate his hunger by looking away. He was about to speak himself when his eyes froze upon the room from whence she had come. 'Twas a large closet and dressing room...and the source of his agitation was the stack of trunks therein, ready for the morrow's journey. He looked back at her. Her eyes went to the trunks. She too seemed perturbed by the sight. Abruptly she reached for the closet door and shut it.

For a moment she hesitated, then she walked past him directly to the hall door. She turned the key in the lock and faced him.

The sound of the door locking at once sent his mind and body into a tumult. He could scarce believe that they were locked together in her bedchamber and she stood before him, her hair unfettered, her naked charms just under her simple night clothes. He stared at her, trying to interpret her purpose...in the candlelight the green in her eyes shone, and her lush lashes lifted as her gaze met his. He could not discern her intent, but he was unable to disguise his own desire any longer...his eyes roved unabashedly over her face...her lips...down the curves of her body under the green velvet...how he ached to take her into his arms!

Her cheeks reddened under his voracious regard, and she clasped the edges of her dressing gown together at her neck --- but her shyness only augmented his amorous feelings. The aching pressure grew in his cock. Looking down at her, he could not stop thinking of her upon the ironing table...of how he had licked her little cunny to spending...of his finger up her bottom hole. He wondered if she was thinking of it too, for her blush was flaming red. Both of her hands now gripped the edges of the robe --- one at her neck and one at her belly. It occurred to him that perhaps she had been offended by the obscene act and had avoided him purposefully. Never having previously done it, he knew not what had possessed him to penetrate her in such a manner...'twas a most lewd act to perform upon an innocent girl.

But the more he endeavored to chide himself, the more he thought upon the incident, and the more aroused he became --- his tool was expanding in its confines. He could see her stealing glances at his protruding trouser front as she edged past him into the chamber...each glance sent another measure of hot blood into his organ. He pivoted to follow her movement. "My lady, I..." he began. He was rendered speechless by the juxtaposition of her loveliness with the bed, now behind her.

Her wide eyes flicked down to his groin again, then back to his face.

"My lady..." he tried again, then a sheepish smile lifted one corner of his mouth as the words came to him. "If I did profane with my unworthiest hand this holy shrine, the gentle fine is this, my lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand to smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss," he quoted, with only minor modification. He concluded by falling to his knees before her.

Her lips parted. He scooted towards her upon his knees...she took a hesitant step backwards. Reaching her with outstretched arms, his hands gently took hold of her hips, feeling the warm curves under the velvet. He bent and pressed a kiss upon her belly, below the sash of her dressing gown. She swayed slightly. More kisses followed as he moved forward upon his knees, guiding her the few steps backwards until her legs were against the side of the bed. He lifted her to sit upon the edge of the high mattress. She looked at him kneeling before her, her eyes shining, her cheeks flushed.

Lightly his hands slid down the velvet over her thighs. Picking up one dangling foot, he slipped off the satin shoe. He raised her foot higher, so that her bent knee was pushed closer to her chest and she reclined back upon her elbows. The motion also caused the skirt of the robe to fall open and partially lifted the hem of the white nightgown under it, revealing the lovely sight of her bare leg up to her thigh. Cradling her raised foot with one hand, he bent to strew soft kisses over her shapely calf and foot, as her wondering eyes watched him.

He marveled at her dainty foot, so small and delicate --- why the length of his hand exceeded that of her sole! His lips tickled over the arch, eliciting giggles from her. As he moved to her toes, her foot jerked. He grinned, then put his lips to her adorable big toe, opening them to take the digit into the wet heat of his mouth. Her mouth fell open and she gaped at him as he voluptuously sucked her toe. "Ohhh," she murmured. Softly his tongue massaged it, tasting freshly bathed skin.

Soon he freed her other foot from its slipper and raised it level with the first, his hands holding them side by side. Her ten little white toes were so pretty that he had to kiss his way down the row...then he treated her other big toe to a decadent suck. With both knees now raised, the nightgown had ridden higher and he could see the backs of her pressed together thighs up to the junction with her buttocks. His heart beat faster as he pushed her legs further up towards her chest, shifting his elbows to the mattress and his hands to her thighs to roll her hips up. She fell fully back onto the bed.

His heart thumped in ecstasy to once again have her beauties exposed before him. 'Twas a most enthralling sight: her legs were close together and doubled over, revealing the whole of her cunny and bottom. The posture showed the lithe shape of the backs of her thighs and the graceful tapering line from her curved hips to her knees. Her cunny lips were squeezed together, pouting and rosy --- her inner lips visible as a fine pink line between them. Below this, his eyes feasted upon the tiny star-like aperture between her buttocks.

Thrilled to make good his vow, he bent and tenderly kissed her darling pucker. She started; he heard her sharp intake of breath. Overcome with bawdy delight, he held her thighs firmly in place and tongued her little orifice, swirling over the silky folds of skin and teasing the center. "Mr. Woodbyrne!" she gasped in a whisper, her hips wiggling. Hovering over her vulva, his nose detected faintly the wonder of her love scent. After a few last kisses upon her anus, his lips traveled upward to kiss her cunny...soft, loving kisses along the length of her pressed together lips. Her breaths came short.

Now his hands separated her thighs and pushed them wide apart. He watched her little pinky slit spread open...and rapturously discovered her cleft already well moistened. His besotted tongue swabbed between her lips to taste her wetness. Oh how enchanting was her quavering sigh! Again and again he lapped at her nymphaea, the tip of his tongue adoring their attendant charms...the delicate edges, the membrane of her hymen, the coy hood of her clitoris. Feeling the swelling of her pleasure pip, he next concentrated his caresses there: fluttering and tickling the morsel with the agile tip of his tongue, rubbing it with the muscular broadside, sucking it between his full lips. She panted and writhed...whilst his cockstand pulsed against the side of the bed.

He raised his head to admire the effect of his stimulation of her flower --- her little engorged bud...the increasing turgor of the inner lips causing them to stand to attention and separate, displaying the virgin inlet of her vagina...the shine of her cream therein. Groaning, Grady buried his lips in her notch, instinctively anointing his nose and mouth with her female fluid. Her hips arched.

"Grady..." came a faint moan. His head snapped up --- she had not called him anything but "Mr. Woodbyrne" these five years past. Looking up between her upraised legs he saw her head lolling from side to side, her eyes closed. His ears must have deceived him, he decided, and his mouth returned to her swollen clitoris. A few laps of his tongue...then he felt her hands in his hair. "Grady...." No mistake this time. And no longer a whisper or a breath as in their previous encounters...but her voice...soft, resonant, entreating.

'Twas all his bursting heart needed. He was on his feet: a knee upon the mattress, an arm scooping her up --- and she was in his arms. "Chloe!" he gasped, his hands clasping her head as he covered her face --- cheeks, eyelids, lips --- with fervent kisses. "Chloe, I love you!" Then her arms were about him too! "Oh Grady!" She was kissing him back! Kisses all over his face...as eager as his! Sweet miracle, they tumbled down upon the bed! Their bodies rolled in a jumble of limbs --- overwhelmed with emotion, holding each other close and touching each other's face and hair.

But Love could not long content itself thus...soon their mouths were full pressed together...moving upon each other...ravenous. Having kissed the most intimate treasures of Chloe's body, Grady felt the irony of his joy at attaining the grail of kissing her mouth. 'Twas so soft, so alluring...her plump lips parting...her breath mingling with his...her sweet kisses intoxicating with the taste of her love cream still upon his lips. Urgently he pushed his tongue between her lips, startling her. He retreated momentarily but continued to graze his lips over hers. "Give me your tongue, Chloe," he whispered. The feathery touch upon her delicate skin continued until he felt the tip of her tongue peeking out, upon which he tickled it with his own. His soft licks presently expanded to include her upper and lower lips...tracing around them...gliding over the tip of tongue she had granted him.

Progressively his motions grew more and more voluptuous, his mouth covering hers, moving upon it slowly, his tongue dipping a little further between her plush lips. All at once she whimpered and pressed her mouth hard upon his; her lips opened, and her velvety little stinger pushed against his. He slid his tongue full into her mouth...in a moment his muscular tongue and her smaller one were entwined and stroking in sensuous, wet communion...Nature's instruction fast overcoming her awkwardness. Their breaths came quick and uneven between deep kisses...whilst their bodies, lying upon their sides, strained against each other. He could feel her warm slim figure through their clothes, and with his upper arm about her waist, he pulled her even closer, molding her squirming body against him until he felt the mounds of her breasts pressing into his chest.

Confined by his clothes, his cockstand surged against her belly...but rather than recoiling from the protruding hardness, Chloe's body arched further into him until his stiff sinew was lodged firmly against her mound. Enflamed by her response, his kisses grew more and more agitated...he moved his hips to rub against her. Aching for Love's remedy, Grady could scarce entertain a rationale thought. He tilted away for a moment to reach between them and tug open the flap of his trousers and drawers, letting his rampant organ spring free. Groping behind him, he drew her hand from his back and placed it directly upon his bare shaft. His palm enclosed her hand and squeezed hard. "Chloe," he groaned, "I love you so!"

She froze --- but to her credit she did not let go, even after his own hand returned to her waist. 'Twas clear that she was innocent of the workings of a lady's favorite plaything --- she simply held it fast, her palm where he had placed it --- wrapped around the hot column, but unable to fully encompass his girth. Although she neither retreated nor advanced, simply the touch of her little hand...the fact that 'twas hers, set his cock athrob.

His own hand fumbled in the tangled folds of her robe and nightgown, bumping into her wrist as he pulled her garments up, feeling her smooth naked thighs, her hips...then his fingers found the soft patch of her faerie down. Into the silken nick went his fingertip to caress her erect bud. They lay with their faces near, panting --- their bodies angled slightly apart to accommodate their hands upon each other's sex organs. As Grady stroked and rolled her clitoris, Chloe's escalating writhing was attended by a chaotic but delicious squeezing and pulling upon his cock.

Abruptly she sat up. For a moment he thought that the proceedings had ventured too far...yet she still held fast to his erection. He sat up too. "Chloe?" he murmured. Her glowing eyes met his, then her free hand reached out and took hold of his coat lapel --- and tugged it towards his shoulder! For only an instant did he gape at her, then he was ridding himself of the coat posthaste. Even as he was yanking his arm from the sleeve, her fingers went to the top button of his waistcoat and undid it awkwardly with only one hand. His hands hastened to assist her.