Page 37 of Dick Stone, Regency Stud
He held up both hands, then made one into a hole shape and pointed a finger using the other. Edward moved them together, rather longer than he perhaps should have, but he found himself swept away by the demonstration.
“I do not get paid for this,” he said slowly so that this woman might grasp the nuance.
She nodded, nibbling on a biscuit.
Edward rearranged his hands and moved as if he were cradling a baby. “I am paid for a favorable result. A child. If I receive funds in advance, I work until there is the desired outcome.”
Charlotte took a thoughtful sip of tea. “Are you paid the same for babies that turn out to be girls?”
Edward leaned back on the divan, very comfortable discussing his entirely legitimate business. “My fee remains the same,though families often find that their generosity runs more freely when a male heir is the result.”
“So you never partake in the act for reasons of pleasure?” she asked skeptically.
“You mean outside of my business?” he asked, raising his brows. My, she was a forward lady.
“Inside, outside, it doesn’t matter,” she said, shifting closer.
Lord Edward’s cock jumped at how close he was to a fertile, forbidden goddess. “As a man devoted to my work, I limit my spending to efforts at procreation. I wouldn’t want to dilute the seed unnecessarily.”
“That’s clever,” she said, those luscious breasts moving as though she were just as heated by the discussion as he was. “I can’t help but think that you’re a brilliant man. Scientific in your approach.”
“Well, yes, but—”
And then he felt it. Below that decorative pillow, where his cock was painfully hard, Charlotte Dalpole had slipped her elegant hand, which was now feeling about.
“May I help you, madam?” he asked, his voice rather higher than usual.
“Oh, yes, I was merely looking for some needlework I misplaced last week. I thought I saw a sign of it and sought to secure the piece immediately.”
Those fingers moved over his clothed shaft, encased in breeches made by his tailoress. “I think you’ve done quite enough to secure the piece,” he said, gently removing her hand from the bulge in his trousers.
Charlotte turned, leaning close so her bosom pressed against his upper arm. God in heaven, he’d put many women in a breeding state, but had virtually no experience with the result. It was a mistake he’d like to remedy. As soon as possible. How men resisted tupping their wives senseless when they became soft and round and apparently insatiable, he didn’t know.
It was then that Baroness Dalpole shocked him: despite the awkward heft of her belly, she slid to the rug of her sitting room.
“Madam, are you well?” he asked, standing immediately to fetch help. “Do you require a doctor?”
Charlotte placed her hands on Edward’s thighs. She pushed them up and up, towards his straining piece, and licked her lips as though she relished tasting him. Heavens and angels, if she kept this up, he’d be soiling his smalls and running from the house in mortification!
“I’m well, Dick Stone,” she said, a seductive look on her glowing face.
He wasn’t a religious man, not by any means, but standing above a woman while she kneeled like a supplicant made his overactive cock leak. Light a candle for his soul; he was ready to fuck this woman on every surface of the sitting room, husband or not. Before he ruined his life — once again — by sticking his shaft into some other man’s wife without a breeding contract in place, he needed to depart this house and never look back.
“I thank you for the tea, madam,” he said, shuffling away. “This has been a most instructive visit.”
And then she slid a hand up to cup his aching cock, over his trousers. Seeing her hand around him sent all logical thoughts from his brain.
“You don’t mind, do you?” she asked, moving one hand up to work at the buttons on his falls.
Did he mind that he’d likely be fleeing this house in a scrap of fabric as her disgruntled husband chased him with a dueling pistol? Not at all! Not if she could just rub over his cockhead a little more.
“Do I mind?” he asked, gasping when she placed her cheek against the place his cock strained under several layers of fine tailoring. “Why, no, but I’m not the one who would, am I?”
He could barely string thoughts together. Charlotte opened that last button and took down his falls like they contained the finest treat at a buffet. Edward could see down the front of her dress from where he stood with a jerking cock and unquiet conscience.
“Oh, you leave that to me,” she said, bringing his breeches to his mid-thighs and tugging at his smallclothes. Lord Edward wasn’t sure if she meant his garments or the handling of an angry husband, but he was pleased to let her handle both, if she so wished.
Finally, he was free. The baroness had his cock out and leaking. If this lady wasn’t careful, he was about to divest himself of a good deal of that carefully saved seed all over her face.
