Page 102 of Dick Stone, Regency Stud
“Your family. Where do they come from?”
“Why d’ya need to know?” she asked, her nose scrunched in confusion.
“Well, it seems rude to take a young woman’s maidenhead without first asking about her…her family.”
“Do men who hire courtesans ask that before sticking their cocks in?” she asked.
“The good ones do,” said Edward with a huff.
“London,” she said.
“What?”
“Where my people come from. London, far as I know. Might have had a gran from Ireland, but she also lived in London when I knew her.”
“But where did they come from before that?” he asked, bewildered.
“London.”
“That can’t be right,” he muttered.
“All of that is toff stuff — knowing where you’re from, falling in love, getting upset about a little slap. My belly’s full, and I can read some. I’m doing better than most. Now, do your worst, Dick Stone,” she said, widening her thighs to signal that he should proceed with divesting her of her hymen.
Edward placed a hand on the bed, level with her shoulder, and held the sheath at the base of his shaft.
“You’re sure?” he asked, begging the heavens for her to come to her senses. This had the makings of an absolute disaster.
“Fuck me, Dick Stone.”
He’d heard that request on many occasions, but coming from her lips, it rankled. He was angry, and something near his spine felt hot.
As his cock met her slit, Edward checked that he was lined up correctly. And then he pushed into his friend’s channel for the first time.
Tabby’s breath escaped all in one go, her thighs instinctively cradling him. She fit him perfectly, and he slid into her cunny until he bottomed out.
“Do you…fare well?” he asked, the words barely escaping his tight jaw.
“Oh,” she sighed, her mouth next to his ear. “Oh yes, Edward.”
He felt her soften and squeeze around him, the most pleasurable sensation imaginable. And then he realized the reason he’d resisted sticking his cock inside of Tabby: emotion flattened him; the depth of feelings he’d been trying to contain eviscerated him.
His cock was harder than the stones in the Chasterly jewels, and he was mere seconds from unloading his sack with ignominious speed when he understood the full truth of the matter: he loved his friend. Might even beinlove with her. And he loved something about her that went beyond a fine figure or handsome face. She’d planted some additional inner organ below his ribs, and nothing short of a medical miracle could excise it.
Not that he wanted to. Edward looked at her face, her eyes closed as she learned the contours of pleasure. Gesù, what had he done? Yet he couldn’t regret it, not now that he had her around him.
“Edward.” It was a plaintive little cry, a begging little utterance, and he was undone. His love was crying his name — his real name — and he longed to plant himself within her body.
His sack protested, and he yelped at the surge of seed pounding at the doors, demanding that he fill Tabby.
Edward yanked from her clasp. But he was not such a gentleman that he could resist tearing the letter from his shaft, then jerking himself over Tabby’s prone form. She watched with wide eyes as his spend erupted in great jets, painting the skin on her belly.
She breathed hard and looked down at the mess he’d made.
He was still stroking, squeezing every drop onto her navel and watching as it cooled on her skin.
“I didn’t realize…”
“Not all men do this. Not. Like this.”
