The Officer's Temptation Ch. 07

Marlowe stood and squinted at the dim stars overhead, swayed towards the gate. He needed to walk, to clear his head. He felt as if he was waking up from a long sleep, still drunk, but at least aware of his surroundings now. He needed to piss. Badly. He stumbled into an alley and did so, knocking over some crates on the way. The sound of them clattering hurt his head.

He made his way back towards his lodgings carefully, hand brushing against the dusty walls as he went, stubbing his toes on the cobblestones. He hummed a little under his breath. He thought it might be off-key, but he seemed to have lost his sense of pitch. A shutter opened on the street above him. A pale face peered out, golden hair falling past her shoulders. He blinked. Was she pregnant? Was it his? He swayed against the wall and groaned, sliding into a crouch.

When he opened his eyes again, she was on the street, taking quick little steps towards him, scurrying like a little mouse. He wanted to laugh. Or cry. He wasn't sure which. Arabella grabbed his hand and pulled at him, hissing into his ear. "What are you doing out here?"

He blinked at her. "What are you doing out here?" She was in her nightgown, though covered by a dressing gown. Her hair was unbound, flowing against her pale neck. Her skin was lush in the light of the few lamps that were hung down the sides of the street. She was beautiful in the dark, always was.

"I was waiting for you." Her eyes were serious and deep, caverns which he longed to explore. "We can't speak here. Someone might see." She pulled him by the arm down the road, into a second alley, this one narrower and darker than the first he had found. There was the scent of rosemary. Someone was growing a pot of herbs on a balcony above.

"Arabella," he moaned. The word moved like magic through his blood. Her pale neck disappeared into the collar of her dressing gown, a bit of lace peeping through, covering the rise of her breasts, cinched about her narrow waist. He wrapped his hands about her waist, feeling for the sharp tips of her hip bone, rounding the slope of her stomach. His hands paused there, below her navel. Was his child inside of her even now? He gasped, dumbstruck.

"You've been neglecting me," she said, leaning against him. She laughed sharply. "You smell like whiskey."

"Because I've been drinking it."

"Why have you been avoiding me?"

He leaned his head back against the bricks behind him, was reassured by their solidity, even as the rest of the world seemed to shimmer in front of him. "How could I not, Arabella? We are constantly surrounded by my family, by the Jennings, by our friends, by your husband..." Her husband, who was his friend.

"They don't matter," she whispered into his ear. She was leaning into him now, her breasts pressing against his chest, the fabric of her dressing gown sliding against him. His hands were still on her waist, he lifted them, breathing slowly, to the knot that was cinched above. Her smell was intoxicating, her breath hot against his neck. "Nothing matters but us." She let him undo the knot, his hands a fraction closer to her skin, now wrinkling against the silk of her nightgown. He wanted it off of her, wanted to see her naked in the lamplight. He closed his eyes remembering how she had looked that first time, caught in the rain, dripping wet so that he could see every curve of her body under her dress, the pert tips of her nipples, how he had slid into her against the floor. But no, she hadn't been caught in the rain, that had been Katherine, Miss Jennings, and he was confused.

But his mind was becoming clearer now, his desires becoming intensely focused on one thing. He felt himself becoming hard, his cock rising underneath his trousers, desire filling his body rising like bile into his throat, washing the confusion of intoxication from his mind. He grabbed Arabella and flipped her so that she was the one against the wall, and he was leaning towards her, forearm braced against the plaster while her hands went towards his cock, snaking through the flap in his trousers. He gasped as she reached him, tugging at his shaft, kissing his neck. "Someone could see," he protested, even though he wanted it, wanted nothing more than to feel her around him.

"No one will see," she panted, drawing out his cock from behind the flap. "They will think I'm a courtesan. No one will look twice in these shadows." She kissed him, deeply, letting his tongue flash against his lips, his teeth. "I've missed you. I need you."

A bead of precum dripped from his tip."I want you," he groaned, kissing her, tasting her, feeling her slick tongue glide against his again and again. He grappled with her nightdress. "Take it off."

"It will get dirty," she protested.

Still, he pulled at the robe, slipping off her shoulders. It fell into a crumbled pile against the ground. He reached for the hem of her nightgown, shivering as her shapely legs became more and more exposed. "It doesn't matter if it gets dirty," he said. "Nothing matters but us." She moaned as his fingers ran up her bare skin, yanking the fabric up. He bit his lip as she emerged from the white gown, breasts heavy and round, the yellow hairs glinting against the cleft between her legs.

He parted the lips between her legs with his cock, groaning his flesh grazed against her slick entrance. His cock slipped into her as she shifted her legs to allow him access. He watched as his own cock pierced inside of her, dipping between those golden curls and into the secret cave between. She gasped and raised a leg around his waist. He grunted and grabbed her, lifting her against the wall as she wrapped the other leg around him. He was sweating he realized, clothes sticking to his skin. But it didn't matter. He lifted her against him, half pinning her to the wall, sliding in and out of he, bouncing her up and down again over his hungry member. She moaned against him, writhing like a snake, gripping his back and he pushed her in a wild rhythm against the wall.

In some distant part of his mind, he hoped that they weren't attracting too much attention. He was panting, groaning. They were not discreet. But the lust and liquor clouded his mind and all he could think about was the pleasure he was taking in her, the sensation of her smooth contractions against his cock as she gasped and moaned his name in his ear. It did not take long before he broke, releasing his seed into her. It scarcely mattered now, he thought as he held her still against the wall, panting, if she were pregnant with his child or Nicholas's. The damage had already been done.

He felt her shifting and released her, watching as her feet touched the ground. A little bead of white fluid dripped down her leg. She wiped it away and gathered her clothes quickly, dressing frantically in the alley. He positioned his body to hide her from any passersby, but there was no one. The streets were still deserted and dark and quiet, the shutters nearby closed against the night. They were alone, but had nothing to say as she dressed.

They could not return together, it would be too much of a risk, so he told her to go quickly while he watched around the corner, making sure she made it back inside safely with no one to see her with him. He prayed that no one in her household had heard her leave, that Nicholas was as drunk as he was, safely asleep in bed. After he saw her enter, he slouched against a wall in the alley, waiting, biding his time. His head was clear, but hurting now. His pulse pounded in his temples as if the thought that had suddenly entered was causing him physical harm. What if Nicholas was wrong? What if Arabella wasn't pregnant? And he had just... He shut his eyes and groaned. Why did he never just... think?