Page 38 of Dick Stone, Regency Stud
“You requested an audience with my breeding organ, madam?”
She stared at his cock and then looked up uncertainly. “Yes, but I don’t know what to do next.”
Edward held in a groan. These society wives knew exactly what to say to get tupped senseless, their beguiling mix of innocence and hunger leading him down the wrong garden path every time.
“Well,” he said, letting his hand find its way to her hair while he took hold of his shaft with the other. “How about you start by giving this sad, sore cock a kiss? It’s been wanting to meet you since I walked in.”
He pressed his hips forward and let the leaking tip run over the baroness’s inexperienced mouth. She tried to chase it and kept her lips firmly closed at first, but Edward was persistent and randy. It wasn’t long until he’d slipped inside.
“That’s a good girl,” he said, pushing in and pulling back shallowly so she could become accustomed to the feel of a mantaking her mouth. “Let’s get it nice and wet, and then I’ll give you something you’ll like very much indeed.”
Lord Edward surveyed the room and considered how he might safely plow a pregnant woman when he saw the minx currently learning how to suck his cock shrug off the top of her simple gown.
She had half stays on, but she was spilling forth in a way that made Edward’s balls feel heavy and full. Charlotte was moving most curiously.
At first, Edward wondered if she was touching herself under her dress. Such a turn of events would be most welcome, and he jolted at the thought of her getting wet and sloppy merely from licking his cock.
But then he realized she wasn’t touching herself at all, but angling herself while continuing to work her mouth on his cock. Charlotte turned slightly, in a way that made no sense, as if to present an erotic tableau for a viewer that wasn’t even present.
Light from the sitting-room window illuminated her breasts and danced over those cheeks and lips she was using so well to service his cock. Why, she’d look like a painting if someone had the good fortune to watch her ministrations.
And then he heard a scraping noise from across the room. Edward jolted, but the baroness had her hands on his bum, holding him in place as she sucked him deeper than she had before.
In terror, he stood stock still as he waited for the maker of the noise to show themselves. But he waited in vain; a minute passed, and they were still alone.
It was a curious thing though; after so many years in the field, Edward had developed the ability to know when he was being watched, and he was certainly being watched by someone other than the luscious Charlotte.
He looked towards the side of the room where he had heard the noise and let his eyes rove over the terrain, imagining it divided into a grid. It was when he was regarding a painting — a scene involving stags and hunters under the royal standard — that he saw something odd.
One deer had a dark eye that seemed to change colors. As Charlotte experimented with taking his shaft deeper, Edward squinted and saw that there was a hole in the painting. A hole that would allow someone in the room next door to observe the goings-on in this room, mostly without detection.
The lady had angled her body to best display it for that painting. And Edward saw something curious just before he heard that scraping again and the deer’s eye returned to a solid dark color: there was a flash at the hole, something orb-like but not an eye; at least, not precisely. Something far more resembling glass shaped like an eye. The sort of prosthetic made for veteran soldiers. Men like Baron Dalpole.
Someone was watching him get his cock sucked by the pregnant lady of the house. A nerve connecting his spine and taxed sacktingled, and the weight of the truth came down upon him as his cock grew harder and he poured seed forth: he’d bet Baron Dalpole had been observing the interlude with his wife the whole time.
And judging by the lady’s willingness to suck him and her attempts to show off her body, she was a willing participant in the whole affair, entirely knowledgeable of her husband’s observation.
But why would a husband and wife take such efforts to construct a scene of infidelity unless they wished to blackmail the lover? Everyone knew Edward had little blunt.
They couldn’t…enjoy such activities, could they? A husband couldn’t find cuckoldry — something all men feared — arousing in the least? And a wife blooming with her husband’s child couldn’t possibly enjoy the attentions of another man while knowing her husband observed her, could she?
Even as he attempted to dismiss the evidence before his eyes and working his cock, Lord Edward felt the telltale sign of his shaft becoming harder and blood pouring into his brain as the truth fueled a spectacular orgasm and equally catastrophic headache.
Chapter 3
“Close the curtains, Tobias,”said Lord Edward from where he was recovering on his boarding house bed.
It was a step up from the grim place in which he’d been living immediately after returning home from the war, but it had the added complication of bourgeois respectability, namely in the form of Mrs. Chaffinch, his landlady.
“Now, don’t think I don’t see you,” she said, poking her head around the door through which Tobias had entered. Tobias swung through a rickety window without attracting attention at Edward’s former residence, but the Cheapside establishment was well-maintained, and the application of morals was firm.
Edward groaned under the wadded-up cravat that was serving as an eyeshade. “I’ve told you a thousand times, Mrs. Chaffinch:Tobias is a friend. He visits me to talk and deliver food when I’m ill. Nothing untoward is happening at your residence.”
She huffed and bustled around, dusting Edward’s scant belongings before bringing in a modest tea tray.
When Tobias fell upon the biscuits, she rapped his knuckles and slanted him a meaningful look. The lad had the sense to back away, at least until she closed the door.
“You visited Dalpole. What did you learn?” asked Tobias. Of course he knew what Edward had been up to; he was the most connected lad in the entire city.
