Thank you for your kind support. I appreciate it.
Standard disclaimer.
If this was a dream, Gwen thought, a few minutes later, it was happening with amazing clarity.
'A dream, yes.'
She clung tightly to the notion, because, one could do anything one wished in a dream.
There were no rules, no obligations...only pleasure.
'Oh, the pleasure.'
Arthur undressed her and himself, until their clothes were mingled in a heap on the floor.
Next, he lifted her to a wide bed, with cloud-soft pillows, covered in slick white linen.
This was definitely a dream, because, people only made love in the dark, and afternoon sunlight was flooding the room.
Immediately, Arthur was beside Gwen, leaning over her, his mouth playing with hers, in kisses so lazy and prolonged, that she couldn't tell when one ended and another began.
The length of his naked form pressed against hers, startling in its power, his flesh like steel beneath her exploring hands.
Hard and yet satiny, and fever-hot...his body was a revelation.
The springy hair on his chest tickled her bare breasts, as he moved over her and laid claim to every inch of her, in a slow, erotic pilgrimage of kisses and caresses.
It seemed to her that his scent...and her own, for that matter...had altered in the heat of desire, acquiring a salty pungency, that suffused every breath with erotic perfume.
She buried her face against his throat, inhaling greedily, noting that this 'dream-Arthur' was not a self-contained English gentleman, but a tender, audacious stranger, who shocked her with the intimacies he demanded.
Turning her onto her stomach, he nibbled his way down the length of her spine, his tongue finding places on her back, that caused her to twitch in surprised pleasure.
The warmth of his hand smoothed over her pert bottom. And in a matter of seconds, she felt his fingertips probing the secret crevice between her thighs.
Without warning, she made a helpless sound, and began to push up from the mattress.
Pressing her back down with a low murmur, Arthur separated the springy curls of her femininity and entered her with one finger, teasing and circling the delicate flesh.
And Gwen could do nothing, but rest one side of her burning face against the snowy bed linens, gasping with pleasure.
Arthur purred against the back of her neck and moved to straddle her.
And the silken weight of his sex, brushed against the inside of her leg, while his hand played between her thighs, his touch devilishly light and gentle.
Too gentle.
Still she wanted more...she wanted anything...everything.
Her heart raced, and she clutched handfuls of the linens, knotting them in her damp fists.
A peculiar tension coiled within her, making her writhe beneath his powerfully muscled body.
Her breathless cries seemed to please him, and he rolled her onto her back, his eyes glittering with dark fire.
"Guinevere," he whispered against her trembling mouth, "My angel, my love...does it ache right here?"
His finger stroked inside her.
"This sweet, empty place...do you want me to fill it?" he asked.
"Yes," she sobbed, wriggling to get closer to him. "Yes...Arthur. Yes..."
"Soon," he replied.
He dragged his tongue across her taut nipple and drew it into his warm mouth. And Gwen almost flew from the bed on contact.
He took his fill, worshiping both breasts, giving each equal attention.
But the moment he withdrew his tantalizing touch, she groaned.
Bewildered and frantic, she felt him slide lower and lower, tasting and nipping at her tense body, until...'Oh God! He's not...He couldn't...he couldn't...'
Her breath caught with astonishment, as his hands pushed her thighs wide, and the coolness of his wet tongue, invaded the damp thicket of her curls.
Her hips arched high against his mouth, but he held her down.
'Oh...mercy,' Gwen thought dazedly, even as he laved her womanhood passionately, the tip of his tongue circling in a sly, flirting torment, that made her cry out.
But he wouldn't stop.
He zeroed in and focused on the peak of her sex, finding a rhythm, that sent wildfire through her lithe body.
For a few brief seconds, he paused, to probe her intricate folds.
"Arthur...Arthur..."
Gwen heard herself whispering brokenly, again and again, as if his name were an erotic incantation.
And her shaking hands descended to his head, as she tried to urge him higher, to push his mouth where she needed it.
Had she been able to find the words, she would have begged.
Suddenly, his mouth slid upwards, that small, but crucial distance, clamping over her with sensuous precision.
She groaned at the sensation of his tongue entering her, sucking and tonguing her without mercy.
A hoarse cry escaped her lips, as a heavy tide of ecstasy swept over her, tumbling and washing her senses.
At that, Arthur levered himself over her and cradled her in his arms, his mouth warm, as he kissed her wet cheeks.
Spent, Gwen held him tightly, her breath coming hard and fast. But it still wasn't enough. She wanted his body, his soul, inside her own.
Reaching down awkwardly, she touched the rigid length of his shaft and guided him to the damp cove between her thighs.
"Guinevere..." His eyes were the darkest blue, she has ever seen. "...If we do this, you need to understand how it will change things. We'll have to..."
"Now," she interrupted huskily. "I need you to get inside me. Now."
She ran exploring fingertips from the root of his shaft to the swollen tip, enjoying the feel of him.
Nuzzling the strong column of his throat, she bit him lightly and kissed the spot, allowing her tongue to linger.
In a sudden blur of movement, Arthur pushed Gwen onto her back, his body lowering over hers, even as he pushed her legs wide.
He reached between their bodies and found her soaked sex, his fingertips kindling new pleasure, in her sensitive flesh, until she rocked upwards in helpless reply.
Taking his member in his hand, he guided it to her entrance and slowly entered her.
She felt a stinging pressure between her thighs, and her muscles tightened against the invasion. But she braved the inevitable.
With each welcoming rise of her hips, she felt his insistent hardness pressing deeper, stretching her.
And then, he moved with an explicit thrust, to sink fully inside her.
Gasping in pained surprise, she held still, her hands clutching his hard, smooth back.
Her flesh throbbed violently around his, a rim of tight-stretched soreness, that would not ease, despite her willingness to accept him.
Murmuring for Gwen to relax, Arthur held still inside her with infinite patience, trying not to hurt her, anymore.
As he cuddled and kissed her, she looked up into his now, very dark blue eyes and their gazes held.
Seeing such tenderness there, she felt her entire body loosening, all resistance draining away.
His hand cupped beneath her bottom, lifting her, as he began to move in a careful rhythm.
"Is this all right?" he softly asked.
Moaning, she wrapped her arms around his neck, in answer.
Her head fell back and she felt him kissing her throat, while her body opened fully to the slippery-hot intrusion.
Gwen began to squirm upwards, into strokes of pleasure and pain, and it seemed, that her movements enhanced Arthur's delight.
His features went taut, but his eyes shimmered with excitement, while his breath scraped in his throat.
"Guinevere," he rasped, gripping her bottom more firmly. "My God, I can't...Guinevere..."
"Shh..." Gwen whispered, reaching up to his handsome face and stroking it.
He closed his eyes, pausing his actions for a brief moment, to nuzzle the palm of her hand.
When he opened his eyes again, Gwen's breath caught, for the second time that night, as she bore witness to the emotions she saw in them.
Angling his head down to hers, Arthur gave her the sweetest, most passionate kiss ever, making her heart flip.
Holding her gaze, he started to move again, increasing his actions by the second.
Bracing his arms on the bed, behind her elevated legs, Arthur threw his hips into his movements and gave her everything he had.
Moments later, she was crying out his name, as tears leaked from her eyes.
Seeing her in the throes of passion, spurred him on, but in a matter of seconds, he too became undone, as he drove erratically into her quivering flesh.
"Guin...Guinevere! He growled harshly, as his release swept over him, temporarily weakening him, while his member throbbed palpably inside her.
Afterwards he made to withdraw from her, but she clung to him, murmuring,
"No. Not yet, please..."
Arthur rolled them both to their sides, their bodies still joined.
Reluctant to let go of him, Gwen hitched her slender leg high over his hip, while his fingertips drifted over her back in erotic patterns.
"Arthur," she whispered. "This is a dream...isn't it?"
She felt him smile drowsily against her cheek.
"Go to sleep," he said, and softly kissed her.
When Gwen opened her eyes again, the afternoon light was considerably diminished, and the patch of sky visible through the window, was tinted with lavender.
Arthur's lips wandered lightly from her cheek to her jawline, and his arm hooked beneath her shoulders, lifting her to a half-sitting position.
Disoriented, she breathed in his familiar scent, as she tried to get comfortable.
Her mouth was parched, and her throat was stinging and dry, and when she tried to speak, her voice came out in a croak.
"Thirsty."
The edge of a crystal glass pressed to her lips, and she drank gratefully. The liquid was cool and flavored with citrus and honey.
"More?" he asked.
As she stared at the man who held her, she saw that he was fully dressed, his hair brushed into order, his complexion fresh from a recent washing.
Her tongue felt thick and dry.
"I dreamed...oh...I dreamed..."
But it soon became clear to her, it hadn't been a dream. Because, while the Earl of Westcliff was properly clothed, she was naked in his bed, covered only by a sheet.
"Oh God," she whispered, amazed and frightened by the realization of what she had done.
Her head throbbed painfully and she pressed her aching temples with her fingers.
Turning a tray on the bedside table, Arthur poured another glass of the refreshing liquid.
"Does your head ache?" he asked, and then, "I thought it might. Here."
He gave her a thin paper packet, and she unfolded the end with trembling fingers.
Tilting her head back, she poured the bitter contents of the packet, to the back of her throat and washed it down with a gulp of the sweet beverage.
And the sheet slipped down to her waist, as she did so.
Flaming with mortification, she snatched it up with a gasp.
And though the Earl forbore to say anything, she saw from his expression, that it was rather too late for modesty.
She closed her eyes and moaned.
Taking the glass from Gwen, Arthur, the Earl of Westcliff, eased her down to the pillow and waited, until she could bring herself to look at him once more.
Smiling, he stroked her burning cheek with the backs of his knuckles.
It was such a sweet gesture, but she found herself scowling, hoping he wouldn't appear pleased with himself.
"My lord..."
"Not yet. We'll talk after I've taken care of you."
She yelped with dismay, as he pulled the sheet away from her body, exposing every inch of her skin to his gaze.
"Don't!" she said sternly.
Ignoring her, Arthur busied himself at the nightstand, pouring steaming water from a small jug into a creamware bowl.
He dipped a cloth into the water, wrung it out, and sat beside her.
Realizing what he intended to do, she knocked his hand away reflexively.
Pinning her with an ironic glance, he said,
"If you're going to be coy at this point..."
"All right!" She snapped. Blushing wildly, she laid back and closed her eyes. "Just...get it over with."
The hot cloth pressed between her thighs, causing her to jerk in response.
"Easy," Arthur murmured, bathing her smarting flesh with tender care. "I'm sorry. I know it hurts. Lie still."
Gwen put her hand over her eyes, too mortified to watch, as he molded another hot compress, over the dull ache of her private parts.
"Does that help?" she heard him ask. She nodded stiffly, unable to produce a sound.
Arthur spoke again, his voice colored with amusement.
"I wouldn't have expected such modesty from a girl, who frolics outdoors in her undergarments. Why are you covering your eyes?"
"Because, I can't look at you, while you're looking at me...and doing...that," she said plaintively, and he laughed.
Removing the compress, he freshened it with a new splash of scalding water.
Gwen peered at him from beneath her fingers, as he pressed the soothing hot cloth between her legs once more.
"You must have rung for a servant," she said. "Did he...or she...see anything? Does anyone know that I'm with you?"
"Only my valet. And he knows better than to say a word to anyone about my..."
As he hesitated, obviously searching for the right word, she said tensely,
"Exploits?"
"This wasn't an exploit."
"A mistake, then."
"However you define it, the fact is, we must deal with the situation in an appropriate manner," he stated.
That sounded ominous.
Removing her hand from her eyes, Gwen saw that when he withdrew the cloth, it was dotted with blood. Her blood.
Her stomach felt hollow, and her heart pounded in an anxious tempo.
Any young woman knew, that when she slept with a man outside the bonds of wedlock, she was ruined.
The word 'ruined' had such an intractable feel to it...as if she had been permanently spoiled. Like the banana at the bottom of the fruit bowl.
"All we have to do, is keep anyone from finding out," she said warily. "We'll pretend it never happened."
Arthur drew the sheet up to her shoulders and leaned over her, his hands placed on either side of her shoulders.
"Guinevere, we've slept together. That is not something that can be dismissed."
She was filled with sudden panic.
"I can dismiss it. And if I can, then you..."
"I took advantage of you," he said, making the worst attempt she had ever seen, at trying to appear remorseful. "My actions were unforgivable. However, the situation being what it is..."
"I forgive you," she said quickly. "There, it's settled. Where are my clothes?"
"...the only solution, is for us to marry," he went on, as if she hadn't spoken.
'A proposal from the Earl of Westcliff,' she thought.
Any unmarried woman in England, upon hearing these words from this man, would have wept with gratitude. But it felt all wrong.
The Earl wasn't proposing because, he truly wanted to, or because, she was the woman he desired above all others. He was proposing out of obligation.
Gwen eased herself to a sitting position.
"My lord," she asked unevenly, "Is there any reason, other than the fact that we just slept together, that has moved you to propose to me?"
"Obviously you are attractive...intelligent...you will undoubtedly bear healthy children...and there are benefits to an alliance between our families..."
Spying her clothes, which he had, at some point, laid neatly over a chair by the hearth, Gwen crawled from the bed.
"I must get dressed." She winced as her feet touched the floor.
"I'll help you," he said at once, striding to the chair.
Gwen remained by the bedside, her hair tumbling over her breasts and down to the small of her back.
Carrying the clothes to her and laying them on the bed, Arthur allowed his gaze to sweep over her.
"How lovely you are," he murmured.
He touched her bare shoulders and let his fingers slide down to her elbows.
"I'm sorry to have caused you pain," he said softly. It won't be as difficult for you the next time. I don't want you to fear it...or to fear me. I hope you'll believe that I..."
"Fear you?" she said without thinking. "Good God, I would never do that."
Easing her head back, Arthur looked at her, while a slow smile spread across his face.
"No, you wouldn't," he agreed. "You'd spit in the devil's eye if it suited you."
Unable to decide whether the comment was admiring or critical, Gwen shrugged away from him uneasily.
She reached for her clothes and fumbled to dress herself.
"I don't want to marry you," she said.
It wasn't true, of course. But she could not ignore the feeling, that it must not happen this way...that she shouldn't accept a proposal, that was so obviously duty-driven.
"You have no choice," he said from behind her.
"Of course I do. I daresay, Lord Gwaine will accept me, in spite of my lack of virginity. And if he doesn't, my parents are hardly going to toss me out into the streets. I'm sure you will be relieved to know, that I release you from all obligation."
Snatching her knickers from the bed, she bent to pull them on.
"Why do you mention Gwaine?" he asked sharply. "Has he proposed to you?"
"Is that so difficult to believe?" Gwen retorted, tying the tapes of her knickers. She reached for her chemise. "He has asked for permission to approach my father, actually."
"You can't marry him." Arthur watched with a scowl, as her head and arms emerged from the chemise.
"Why not?" she asked.
"Because, you're mine now," he stated.
She made a scoffing sound, even though she felt her heart give an extra beat at his possessiveness.
"The fact that I slept with you, does not constitute ownership."
"You could be breeding," he pointed out with ruthless satisfaction. "At this very moment, my child might have taken root in your belly. That constitutes something of a claim, I should think."
Gwen felt her knees quiver, although her tone matched his for coolness.
"We'll find out eventually. In the meantime, I'm turning down your offer. Except, that you haven't really made an offer, have you?"
She shoved her bare foot into one of her stockings.
"It was more like a command," she finished.
"Is that what this is about? That I haven't worded things to your satisfaction?" The Earl asked. He shook his head impatiently. "Very well. Will you marry me?"
"No."
His face turned thunderous.
"Why not?"
"Because, sleeping together isn't sufficient reason, to chain ourselves together, for the rest of our lives."
He arched one brow with impeccable arrogance.
"It's sufficient for me." Picking up her corset, he handed it to her. "Nothing you say or do, will alter my decision. We're going to marry, and soon."
"It may be your decision, but it isn't mine," Gwen retorted, sucking in her breath, as he took hold of the laces and tugged them deftly. "And I would like to hear what the countess will say, when she is told, that you intend to bring yet, one more American into the family!"
"She'll have an apoplectic fit," Arthur replied calmly, tying her corset laces. "She'll go on a screaming tirade, at the end of which, she'll probably faint. And then, she'll go to the continent for six months, and refuse to write to any of us."
Pausing, he added with relish,
"Oh, how I'm looking forward to it."
Stay safe!