"I'm not sure about this, Jimmy." Ivy frowned, her forehead creasing with uncertainty. "It seems terribly messy."
"It's meant to be erotic." Jimmy felt awkward speaking the word aloud, even to his own wife, but it was true. Ever since he'd glimpsed the photographs, hidden at the bottom of Lord Berrigan's trunk, Jimmy had wanted to try it for himself. "Come on, Ivy." He gave her his most dazzling smile. He'd had a legitimate reason to be poking around in the trunk: he'd been acting as Lord Berrigan's valet during the man's brief stay at Downton. He hadn't realized Lord Berrigan travelled with an extensive collection of pornography. He doubted Lord Grantham did, either, or he wouldn't have been so keen for Lord Berrigan and Lady Mary to go out riding alone. "Please?" Jimmy added.
Ivy sighed. "It's not you what has to do the washing," she reminded him, but the frown eased gently into a smile. She pointed at the little bowl in his hand. "Are those fresh strawberries?"
Jimmy nodded. "I nicked them from the kitchen."
"Naughty." But Ivy lay back on the bed, the thin mattress creaking beneath her. "You'd better hope Mrs. Patmore doesn't catch you."
"She won't." He'd been very sneaky, taking the small bowl of strawberries and the little pitcher of cream and absconding into the night, back to his cottage where Ivy waited. "She told me today that she misses you, though," he added, because she had, and because it would please Ivy to hear it.
"I don't understand why I can't go back to work, at least not for a little bit." At least not until a baby arrives, was what she meant, but Jimmy couldn't stand for it. He was a proper man, and a proper man took care of his family. "I might pop in for a visit tomorrow," Ivy said, thoughtfully. She stretched out, her nightdress riding up her thighs. Her nipples rose up, clearly visible through the thin fabric of her summer nightie, and Jimmy reached out to her.
Even now, after close to six months of marriage, the first kiss of the night felt like the first kiss, ever. Rather, Jimmy corrected himself, it was like the first kiss ought to have been. Instead of being awkward and secretive, hurried in case somebody came in—as, of course, Alfred had—they could take their time. Ivy's mouth was soft against his, the movements of her tongue delicate but with intent behind them. When she sighed, he felt it all the way down to his prick. He pulled away, and she gasped, her cheeks rosy. "All right?" He asked.
"All right," she agreed. She slipped off the nightie, tossing it to the ground with a wanton abandon that would have been unheard of months, or even weeks, earlier.
Now he had her there, lying naked in front of him, Jimmy wasn't quite sure where to start. He dipped a finger into the pot of cream and touched it gently to her milky-white skin, just beneath her collarbone. She gasped a little. "It's cold," she said, but she didn't pull away from his touch. Slowly, he dragged his finger downward, spreading the cream between her breasts. The woman in Lord Berrigan's picture had been done out like a Victoria sponge, covered in cream and chocolate and sliced fruit, but Jimmy didn't have the culinary ability—or the patience—for that. He swirled the finger around one of Ivy's nipples, painting a curlicue around it, then did the same with the other side. Reaching for the strawberries, he placed them gently along the line of cream, resting two small slices above each nipple. "How does that feel?"
"Odd," Ivy replied. She looked at him. "But nice."
He went back for more. Jimmy had never been an artist. He'd never had any particular skills at all, really, but as he smeared the cream more enthusiastically over Ivy's sides, she squirmed on the sheets, and he felt a shimmer of satisfaction. He added more, rubbing it over her soft belly, around her hips and down onto her thighs. He didn't have nearly enough to cover her entire body, but he spread it out as much as he could. Ivy's eyes slid shut as he passed his fingers over her sex, but he didn't linger. Not yet.
He followed the trail of cream with the sliced strawberries, placing them at equal intervals. When he'd done, he sat back on his heels, to admire the creation before him. "Delicious," he murmured. Ivy laughed, a little self-consciously. A twinge of guilt passed through Jimmy at that. In the past, he'd been thoughtless, he knew that. Immature and self-centred, he hadn't seen Ivy for the treasure she was, at least not at first. Words could not express how glad he was he'd come to his senses, and how lucky he was that Ivy had still been there, waiting, when he'd realised what he was so close to missing out on.
Now I can make it up to her, he thought. Now, and forever. "Jimmy..." She whispered, and Jimmy placed his mouth over hers.
He moved down slowly, savouring the sensations. The cream was sticky, the strawberries sweet, an enticing symphony of flavours when combined with the light saltiness of Ivy's skin. He took her breast into his mouth and sucked gently, pressing his tongue against the nipple and then drawing it out between his lips while rolling and kneading Ivy's other breast with his hand. Jimmy swapped over, lapping up more cream as he circled the other nipple with his thumb. He rubbed the pad of it over and over again, increasing in speed and roughness, then abruptly removed his hands to move further down, nibbling along the strawberry trail to Ivy's thighs.
He'd been no great lover at first, Jimmy could admit that freely, but he had been inexperienced. Now, giving his wife pleasure was a source of pride for him, as much so as supporting her in their home and giving her the money and lifestyle she deserved. He couldn't quite give her as much as he wanted to, not yet at any rate, but he could make her quiver with desire, make her squirm and clutch the sheets in her hands and murmur his name, over and over again. That was worth something. That was worth a lot.
Jimmy took his time, licking stripes up and down Ivy's thighs, cleaning up the last of the cream. Shame that's all there is, he thought, but Mrs. Patmore would have noticed if he'd taken more. Still, there would be other times, other occasions. After a long moment, Jimmy slid off the narrow bed. Before Ivy could protest, he took her by the hips, manoeuvering her so she lay across the bed with her knees bent and her bare feet on the floor. Kneeling on the rug—experience had taught him kneeling on the floor was a good way to spend the next day hobbling and avoiding questions—Jimmy pushed her thighs apart and settled between them.
Moisture glistened on the folds of her cunt, shining in the dim light. Jimmy lapped it up, the muskiness of it mingling with the sweet cream already on his tongue. Glancing up, Jimmy saw Ivy with her head thrust back. She had been reluctant to engage in this sort of thing at first, but he'd quickly convinced her of its merits. She groaned lightly, one foot coming up to rub against Jimmy's bare back, as Jimmy opened his mouth wide.
He pushed in as far as he could, breaching her with his tongue. Her scent enveloped him. The taste of her intimate parts, not something he'd ever thought to enjoy, was wonderful, better even than the strawberries and cream. It was something private, something only the two of them shared, and that made it all the better. He swiped his tongue upwards, licking against the nub of flesh that made her cry out and grip his hair, almost painfully. He stayed there, shifting position so he could press his tongue against this little button while sliding first one, then two fingers inside of her. Ivy's muscles clenched hard against his fingers and he moved them in and out, in rhythm with his kisses until her legs shook and her breathing came in gasps. Jimmy didn't move until Ivy, breathless, said, "Come here." He climbed up onto the bed.
She kissed him, not seeming to mind where his mouth had just been, her nails raking along his back and sending shock waves to his prick. It, already hard and leaking, jerked with interest. Ivy took it in one hand, sliding his foreskin up and down and pressing her knuckles against his balls. She kissed his neck and nibbled at his ear, spreading the ever-increasing amount of leaking liquid along the length of Jimmy's prick. "Wait," he grunted. He enjoyed it, sometimes, coming into her hand or over her breasts or down her throat, but today he wanted something else. She nodded. Without asking, she moved up, onto her hands and knees, and Jimmy slid into place behind her.
If he'd improved as a lover, then she had, as well. At first, she had been shy and reticent, lying on her back and thinking, Jimmy supposed, of England. He couldn't blame her. It was what they were all taught to do but now, he could scarcely believe his luck. She pushed back eagerly, bringing him all the way in with one movement, enveloping him in her divine heat. Lucky, he thought, as she gripped the iron headboard and he moved, thrusting into her over and over again, watching her buttocks jiggle and muscles flex beneath her pale skin. I'm so damn lucky. He kept the thought in his head as he climbed higher and higher. He put one hand on Ivy's hip and wound the other in her long, smooth hair, pulling just a little. She reached back, gathering him into an awkward embrace, and he came, hot and wet inside of her.
As soon as Jimmy could move again, he pulled out. They collapsed side-by-side, Jimmy's arm around Ivy and Ivy pressed against him, her head on his chest. For a long moment, the room was quiet, save for the sound of breathing. Ivy pulled back her hair and kissed him, on the cheek and then on the lips. "Tell me, darling." Her voice brought Jimmy back from the brink of sleep. "Does Lord Berrigan have any other...interesting ideas?"
Jimmy laughed, hugged her close, and said, "He most certainly does." And Jimmy couldn't wait to try them all.