Page 22 of Dick Stone, Regency Stud
She felt his shaft experimentally. Her eyes widened, and then she looked into his lap to see the outline of his straining cock.
“How?” she asked, quite befuddled. “Your breeches seem to restrain it admirably.”
“Yes, the work of my tailoress. They’ll need to come off.” He picked her hand out of his lap. “If you continue in that direction, we’ll have no seed left for making the baby.”
“And you’ll put the seed inside of me,” she said, seeming to ruminate.
“Yes, ideally in a way that is at least somewhat pleasurable to you.”
“I shouldn’t think that necessary,” she said, shocked.
“You may find that pleasure eases the way,” he said.
She stared at him blankly.
“In your channel. In and out of your person.”
Lady Maria looked from corner to corner of the carriage as if counting up sums. Finally, she said, “I should like a demonstration.”
Edward was momentarily at a loss for words. Now, this wouldn’t be the first time he’d rogered a lady in a coach, but he didn’t expect a young woman within sight of the altar to request a trial of his services in a conveyance; that was the domain of the older, more experienced women of theton.
“To ensure we both mean the same thing: you’d like to be bred in this carriage? Or at least make an attempt at breeding, here in this landau?”
“I hardly think a carriage is a place to make an heir!” she gasped.
“You’d be surprised.”
“Today has been full of surprises. I shall think twice before departing my bed ahead of normal visiting hours again.”
“How did you envision this demonstration working?” asked Edward, genuinely confused.
“I thought you might like to show me your breeding organ and then gesture to demonstrate how it all works. What did you think I meant?”
“I expected that you’d want to lift your skirts and allow me access to your person so you might experience a bit of the pleasure breeding can bring.”
Lady Maria fixed him with a hard stare and then set about gathering her skirts. Up they rose, revealing a slim ankle encased in fine knit stockings. A youthful knee. Plump thighs that trembled slightly. She paused.
“I don’t wear drawers. My mother said only bad girls wear them.”
She pulled her dress higher to show the apex of her legs and the little thatch of hair that set Edward’s mouth to watering. He needed to control himself and not scare this young bride, but he felt his lids grow heavy when she bravely let her body relax and knees fall apart.
“Have you felt this part of yourself before?” he asked, moving closer to her on the bench.
“I don’t fetch my own water for washing up. Why would I labor down there? Is that not a task men like you perform for money?”
Edward fought the urge to rear back as if slapped. If he’d been able to see this moment of degradation before his actions on the Continent, would he have let his cock out of the barn?
Probably. He could shake his fist at fate, but having hubris and horniness as twin masters made a man reckless.
Not that he’d allow this chit to walk away from this encounter without wobbling legs and a newfound respect for her child-to-be’s father.
He settled one large hand on the inside of her thigh and moved up towards her bush slowly.
“I suppose you’re intent on earning your fee,” she said, her voice a rasp.
“You don’t wear drawers, but leaving them off doesn’t protect you from being a bad girl.”
“You say that, but I’ll have you know that no man has seen nor touched me here before!” she exclaimed.
