Chapter 28: One Hell Of a Hangover

"My God, Mrs. Selton, you're so good at that," Colonel Tavington muttered dreamily, his eyes closed. He didn't bother lifting his head from the pillow to watch the woman's head bobbing up and down in his lap. Feeling her mouth teasing him without him perusing her actions was driving him to desire fast enough.

The beautiful widow moved her mouth up and down the length of his stiffened manhood, blessing it with light kisses, then dragging her luscious lips, wet and inviting, at a lazy pace up and down the shaft. As Charlotte slowly teased him, she could feel herself getting moist with that lovely twitching of desire in her pussy that made her feel she would have to have him inside her soon—VERY soon.

She would stop once in awhile to wrap her lips around the hardened shaft, eliciting groans of appreciation and want from the man. When she did, her hand would caress his testicles, rolling them gently in her fingers, increasing the man's tension and desire. Then she would tease him further, gliding her fingertips up and down his hardness, mimicking her tongue's actions.

At the tip of his cock, her tongue snaked out from between her lips and licked the head, now purple and bulging with desire. She licked it as if it were a piece of sweet candy that she enjoyed, her fist gripping his manhood, sliding up and down the shaft all the while.

After licking the head until the colonel was squirming, she took the swollen, violet crown into her mouth, sucking and tonguing it gently, refusing to take any more of his long manhood past her soft lips, preferring instead to build her lover's hunger until his pleading was heard. And Charlotte was soon rewarded after only two minutes of that exquisite torture, knowing she had brought the corona near to the point of becoming oversensitive.

"Swallow it now, Charlotte." His voice was raspy and low, partly instructing her yet partly begging her out of his greedy need.

The woman smiled, letting her lips slide sensuously over the flare of the crown slowly, looking him in the eyes as she did. Her blue eyes had a look of playful naughtiness in them as she met his azure eyes, smoldering now. She took him deep into her mouth, letting his cock slide slowly—painfully slow—into her throat. Mrs. Selton relaxed her muscles as much as she could so as not to gag on him, for she knew him well enough after all these months, that he wanted to feel his manhood as deep in her throat as possible.

When her lips finally reached the base of his prick, where his thick dark curls were full of his manly scent, William groaned in relief. She held him there, deep in her throat, warm and wet, for a moment, driving the officer even more insane with desire.

"Christ, Charlotte!" he swore, "Move, damn it!"

She chuckled at her lover's frustrated cries, knowing what he wanted. The lady began to move her mouth up and down the length of his shaft, swallowing him completely to the base, holding him deeply in her throat, then letting it slide up to the point that he tip nearly breeched the threshold of her lips stopping at the last moment. And after sliding up and down his shaft a few times in this way, she stopped to suck and pull on him.

Charlotte had repositioned herself when she had begun fellatio, moving from lying in his arms. She was now opposite him, lying on her side, her head and arms lazing in his lap and thighs. Her legs were bent at the knee, relaxed on the pillows near Tavington's head. This made it easy for William as he crammed his left hand into her mussed up golden locks, holding her head there, not wanting her to stop with her actions. The officer's right hand found its way to between her legs, which she willingly opened for him. Nestled now in her wet quim, he lazily pushed two long fingers up inside her vagina, then proceeded to shoving hard in and out, nearly matching the rhythm of her mouth on his cock. He heard her muffled grunt of pleasure against his skin, her mouth still full of his hardened member. Feeling her velvety walls clinch around his digits, he plied them there, in and out; in and out.

"Deeper! Take it deep!" the officer said lustily. And Charlotte once again took him as deep into her throat as she could, holding him there after moving in a hesitating manner up and down, again following the length of him. And after another torturous moment of this her urged her on. "Faster my dear."

As she did, and the pleasure tightened in his pelvis, he closed his eyes and let out a deep breath. God damn, he thought, she is better at this than any whore. But there again, she was a wife for years, and has been a hungry widow starved for intimacy just as long.

And for all the pleasure that Charlotte was giving her colonel the return was the spicy arousal burning and building in her own core, ready to flow out to the rest of her body. She moved her hips in time with Tavington's rhythm. He punched his fingers stiffly, near brutally, in and out of her, his knuckles banging against the sensitive skin between her legs. Occasionally, his palm slid against the hardened knot of nerves there, making her breath hitch as a tiny bolt of heat seemed to shoot from that spot. The widow knew that she may be bruised from the harsh finger fucking that Colonel Tavington delivered, but the joy was well worth it.

"Mmmmm...nnnnnn...ummmmm", was all she could do to moan her pleasure with her mouth still full of the officer's phallus.

"Damn Charlotte," the colonel cried, "I love my cock in your mouth. I love how wet it makes you!" He punctuated his words with a hard shove of his fingers, the tips hitting the back of her, tickling her cervix, making her moan again.

Mrs. Selton both loved and hated when William spoke crudely to her during their coupling. She loathed that he talked to her as a man would address a whore. Her! A lady of society. Yet it aroused her to hear him say it so blatantly, thrilling her and bringing her close to orgasm, loving the satisfaction yet abhorring that such crude words fired her passion.

Tavington could tell that his lover was close to the edge, yet needed a bit more help to crash over it. "You need a little more, don't you, my dear?" he coaxed. He loved it when she came while his cock was in her mouth. Her moaning, or the humming sound her lips made around his prick was lovely to feel.

"Yes. Three fingers," she whispered against the skin of his shaft. With that, the redcoat commander then jammed three digits hard up into her, showing no mercy and knowing that he was stretching her. He felt her sigh of pleasure against his stiffness which was thankfully, back in her mouth. She continued to draw her mouth steadily up and down his rigid length, slowly—agonizingly so. And after a few seconds, she came, moaning aloud with his cock still in her mouth. Her moistness flexed and closed around his fingers, making him anxious to feel that on his erection. The officer pulled his yard from her mouth and withdrew his fingers from her cream.

As her orgasm waned, she shifted her body on the bed, moving back up to lay in William's arms. As she moved, the woman was stunned and surprised when William's hand caught her, slapping her bare behind hard, which to her, felt as if it was a slap of discipline and not a lazy one of affection. "William!" she protested in a gasp of surprise, her hand moving back to her left cheek to caress the burning.

"Mount it!" he ordered.

The young widow turned herself around slowly to face her lover then straddled his lap. With the colonel between her thighs, she perched on the head of his rigid member teasing him heartily, letting the crown feel just a touch of her heat and moisture. Then she flexed her legs a bit, taking the corona inside her, breeching just her opening no more than an inch deep, all kept at bay at the entrance of her cave. She closed her eyes as an illicit smile curled her lips up. The helmet, so purple and swollen, stimulated her delicate hole, such a delicious feeling that if she kept on with just this light stimulation, she would come sooner than she wanted. She fought it though, loving teasing the redcoat commander this way and wanting to hear him beg her for more.

The head of William's cock quickly became sensitive and painful again, having already been brought there once moments ago. Needing release, his eyes closed as his head rolled back onto the pillow. Inpatient for completion, his hands went for her hips, intent to grab them and force her down further on him, but she intercepted, batting his hands away.

"Christ, woman!" he spat in pure frustration, "Put it in your cunt!"

Charlotte smiled softly at his pleading but cringed inside at that word. She wondered sometimes if he thought of her as a woman or just something warm and wet to stick his cock into. Closing her own eyes, she sank slowly down on his erection. Once it was nestled deeply within her moistness, to the hilt, she sat still upon it and let lose a satisfied sigh.

"Yes, that's it," the colonel groaned. He brought his hands up to palm her breasts, fondling them lazily. "Move Charlotte. Slowly."

The woman complied, riding him at a languid, leisurely pace. And after a moment, she leaned forward and took his hands. She laid them on the pillow above his head and held him down there by his wrists. He let her, his penis twitching and swelling even more inside her assuring her just how much this excited him.

The position was just as delightful for her. Charlotte's still youthful breasts hung right above her lover's face. William's tongue soon slithered from between his lips to lick at her stiff, aching nipples, lapping at them as if they were sugary sweet. As the Carolinian beauty moved herself up and down his prick, the officer's lips caught each dusky pink peak, suckling each in turn, causing heat to grow between her legs, which coiled there waiting to be sprung. William sucked harder, creating a pull on her nipples that made her wince in pain and pleasure, then moan unabashedly with need.

Colonel Tavington managed to pull one of his hands free of the woman's, then reached up to cup the nape of her neck. He pulled her head down to his, where their mouths met and their tongues dueled. Charlotte pulled away from the kiss, her bosom still heavy with need.

She released the redcoat commander's other hand, then sat up and massaged her aching breasts a moment. Then she leaned forward again and braced herself on her left arm as her right hand was busy plumping her right breast as she pushed it back toward the prone officer. "Please, again," she pleaded shamelessly, "Suck it hard."

With that, Tavington latched on to the rosy nipple and grazed it a bit with his teeth. He did as she begged, suckling deeply, creating a suction that was nearly painful. William opened his eyes as and noticed a pink glow spreading across her chest, and it pleased him. He liked the blush on her pale white skin.

Mrs. Selton sat upward again, moving her hips sensually on the colonel's lap, ever massaging and coaxing his cock. Her pace quickened when he reached up to caress her breasts, pinching and rolling the hardened nipples. His hips soon joined hers in movement, bucking hard upward, meeting hers on her down thrusts. They held that rhythm steady for a moment, both anticipating their orgiastic rewards.

The pretty widow closed her eyes as her head dropped backwards, close to completion. Then the whimpers began, telling the redcoat commander that the feeling was upon her.

"Come Charlotte! Come for me!" he cajoled, looking at her intently.

Charlotte felt it first, deep in her core. A fire exploded there and quickly moved through her body, warming her limbs and shaking her.

"Yes, William!" she wailed, "I'm coming!"

Close himself, he continued his final thrusts as her orgasm rippled around his erection, deep inside her, bringing him to the edge.

"That's it, Charlotte! Loudly! Show me how I please you!" He was serving his own needs. William knew he pleased her, he just wanted everyone else in the house to know, as well.

"Yes! William! WILLIAM! It's so good! You're an Adonis!" Her back arching, she leaned back, bracing her arms with her hands splayed firmly on Tavington's strong thighs.

Then, sparks ignited at the base of his penis, spread through his pelvis, and traversed the rest of his body, making his muscles tremble. His hot stream of thick semen fought gravity to shoot upward into the woman.

"Ah...God!...Oh, Christ!...mmmmmm!" he groaned at the apex of his pleasure.

Charlotte collapsed on William, who encased the woman in his arms and quickly rolled her off of him. Both still gasping and unable to speak, they snuggled together under the covers, the evidence of their coupling silently running warm and wet down the inside of the widow's thighs.

/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/

Hugh Bordon wanted to, and tried hard, to sleep longer, but the caterwauling of Tavington and his female guest in the commander's quarters woke him up and prevented him from going back to sleep. He put his pillow over his head, but could still hear the orgiastic moaning.

The dragoon second in command remembered the very blunt comment that Miss Burwell had made of the widow Selton in conversation with him three weeks ago. She had stated that even though Mrs. Selton had money and class, that her actions with Colonel Tavington were no more than those of a strumpet. And now, with her utter disregard of discretion, and the fact that she willingly exchanged her bodily integrity to keep her plantation intact, Bordon was inclined to agree with Betsy. The Selton woman was simply a trollop with wealth.

"Damn it," he muttered. "Have they no decency? No restraint? Rutting loudly like a couple of cats in heat!" Hugh rolled his eyes at the ridiculous audible display of passion, which hurt his head. After what was only a moment in reality but felt like an eternity to the captain, the cries died away. Bordon was glad.

The dragoon second in command lay there a moment, his arm over his eyes to shield them from the light. His body felt like a lead weight and his temples were throbbing.

"Oh, bloody Hell," Hugh Bordon slurred as he opened his eyes. The light was too bright and his head felt as if an axe had split it open like a rail. He forced himself to sit up. As his eyes adjusted to the daylight now filling his room, he looked about for his watch which was not on the nightstand.

It was only then that he realized he was still dressed, save for his shoes, cravat and coat, which he now spotted laying on the floor. The sheets were crumpled around him. Closing his eyes again, he forced himself to try to remember anything about last night. The last he recalled was standing at the punch bowl and looking across the room, and marveling at how "grown up" and elegant Miss Burwell looked.

"Shit," he said to himself. "I hope I didn't act like a complete idiot at the party. Worse, I hope I didn't do anything I will regret or get my sorry ass into trouble over."

At that point he started to ease himself out of bed. As he did, his legs felt constricted. He looked down to find his pants down slightly. But his eyes nearly popped from his pounding noggin as he saw his cock. It was crusted to the hair on his leg, but came away easily. He knew then that there had been a woman in his bed last night. But what concerned him the most was the streaks of blood on his member.

The officer rolled out of bed quickly and pulled back the sheets. There, in the middle, were two blood stains. He put his hand over his eyes and heaved a heavy sigh. "Damn it!"

He began pulling the bed linens off the thing himself. He had to get rid of the blood stained sheet lest he suffer gossip at the hand of the Burwell's house servants. "Bloody Hell," he swore again, mad at himself. "I fucked a virgin in my own bed last night and I have no idea who it was. I would like to at least remember the pleasure of it!"

As he pulled another sheet off, something flashed and fell to the floor, making a dainty tinkling sound as it landed on the wood. The captain stopped his task and bent over to retrieve the object.

It was a small bracelet; delicate, not gaudy. "It figures. A clue to the identity of my bed partner. She might as well be Cinderella and me the prince left with a shoe to try to fit on every girl in the kingdom."

He held the conservative bauble up in front of his eyes, examining it. Expensive, he thought. She will definitely want this back.

"Well, who do you belong to?" he asked the bracelet.

The redcoat commander placed the bangle on the night table and went back to stripping the bed. It was down to the mattress the next moment. He wadded the stained, incriminating sheet and hid it, crumpled up behind his bureau.

Bordon made his way to his washstand, where he quickly dunked a linen into the water and then squeezed the excess from it just as fast. Then he cleaned himself up, washing his crotch and thighs, rinsing away the traces of his encounter with the mystery lady of the night before.

He tugged his breeches back up and buttoned them as he paced back to his nightstand. The man picked the bracelet up again, his head pounding even harder with the hangover the more his eyes focused on the dainty object, trying to recall anything of its owner. But his head hurt too much, and instead of pushing himself anymore to remember, he closed his palm around the piece of jewelry. The officer left his room in search of information and some Ward's for his headache. Once downstairs, he could get the pain remedy from the servants, as well as question them to see if one of the lady guests inquired about missing finery.

Once in the hallway, he met Miss Burwell, not dressed nearly as demurely as she was last night, once again looking the part of the lost young girl in her simple country farm dress. She smiled softly at the redcoat officer.

"Good morning, Captain," she greeted in a subdued voice.

"Good morning, missy," he answered.

"Here's some Ward's Powder for your head," she said, offering a small vial of the stuff to the redcoat. "Mrs. Leyanova sent it up."

"Give her my compliments," he answered warmly. In his opinion, the Russian head housekeeper knew more of that household than anyone there. She could predict the need of everything and everyone there and kept it all well organized. He thought the Burwell family well off to have her employed in that position. "That woman runs a tight ship here."

"That she does," Betsy agreed.

As the officer took the medicine from the girl's hand, her smile turned to a look of question as she noticed the shiny object in Bordon's hand. Suddenly, Betsy's face lit up.

"My bracelet!" she exclaimed with a wide smile and rounded eyes. "You found it! I thought it was lost forever."

She reached for it, but the redcoat officer clasped his hand around it possessively and pulled it out of her reach.. The revelation of the bangle's owner surprised and confounded him. A look of confusion and disbelief darkened his face. No, it can't be hers, he thought to himself. She was not the lady in my bed last night. It had to have been one of the other young ladies in attendance. "Yours?"

"Yes, it's mine!" confirmed the young girl.

Still baffled, he needed to delve deeper. "When did you lose it?"

"During the party last night. Where did you find it?"

"In my room," answered the man, a hint of a curious tone in his voice.

The smile on Miss Burwell's face waned a bit, then recovered. Bordon could tell that she was hiding something.

"Oh." The girl wasn't sure what to say next, wanting their shared intimacy of the night before to remain forgotten; hidden.

"Why would your bracelet be in my room?" he asked, obviously fishing for a detailed answer.

In only took an instant for Betsy to come up with a logical—and innocent—answer. And it was the truth. She knew she could fabricate something if she had to, to save face, but his inability to recollect anything of the night due to his soused state was proving to be in her favor, so far. "You were quite drunk last night. You asked for help getting to your room. It was I who assisted you."

A clumsy silence passed between the two as he stared at the bauble and she tried not to squirm. Hating the quiet, which made her feel guilty, she spoke.

"It has a faulty clasp," she explained nervously. "It must have fallen onto the floor when I brought you in." With that, she reached out to recover the bangle, but the redcoat again pulled it away from her, as if teasing her.

Hugh Bordon was not irritated, but knew how to get the answers he sought; the truth. He was a top notch intelligence officer. The redcoat leader turned the pressure up a bit, the deadpan expression of his face never wavering as he scrutinized the nervous teen. "It wasn't on the floor."

Gulping hard, Betsy had to come up with something fast. She thought that for now, she would stick with the truth of helping him to his room. "No?"

"No," he said, his blue eyes boring into hers, so much so that she eventually looked away, unable to hold her gaze. "It was in my bed."

Oh, God! Oh no! Betsy screamed inside. He has guessed! He knows! What do I do?

She took a breath then began, trying to stay calm. "You couldn't stand, sir," she explained. "I had to assist you to your bed. It must have slipped off my wrist when I was leaning over to help you into the bed."

"It was worked well down into the sheets, Miss Burwell. Why is that?" His words were a statement; a question; and a blunt accusation.

Betsy, never a good liar, began to tremble. The girl fought back the urge to cry, making her throat hurt and too constricted to get any words of defense out.

The captain opened the door to his room and moved his arm in front of him, inviting the girl in. But there was no pleasure in his countenance. "I think you and I should have a talk, lass."

He shut the door behind him and asked the girl to have a seat. She sat in the chair, her mind racing to try to come up with any explanation, no matter how wild, to extricate herself from the truth. The girl watched him closely and curiously as he pulled something from behind his bureau.

Captain Bordon turned, and shook out the incriminating bedsheet that he had hidden. The wadded linen dropped out in a cascade, soon revealing two small stains of crimson. Though miniscule, the red was a stark contrast on the pure white of the sheet. The white innocence of virtue; the red of lies.

"Does this belong to you?" he queried in all frankness.

Betsy panicked, feeling like a small puppy caught near an incriminating stain of urination on a carpet. She immediately burst into tears and jumped from her chair. Bordon beat her in the race to the door, preventing her escape.

When she could not open the door, firmly kept shut from his weight against it, she hid her face in her hands and began to cry. She was burning with embarrassment and angry at herself for not being able to hide her emotions.

"Please, let me out," she blubbered, trying to twist the doorknob.

"Miss Burwell," he murmured in a comforting voice to the girl, trying to ease her humiliation, "I am not angry with you. I know what went on in this room last night and now I know with whom. But I don't remember any of it. I need to know the details."

The young lady's tears eased up a bit as she lifted her face from her hands. "Calm yourself, lass," he said as he took her wrist and led her away from the door. She did not put up a fight, resigned to the situation. Betsy sat back down in the chair and accepted the handkerchief he handed her.

She wiped her eyes and sniffled. "Please, I must know what happened," he pleaded.

But Betsy didn't know where to begin. Her voice left her, and she shook her head in frustration. Captain Bordon, always the consummate intelligence officer, began to interrogate gently, understanding that her voice had been seized for the moment.

He began cautiously, doling out his questions with a measure of empathy. "Did I force myself on you?"

"No," she answered. "But you were persuasive."

"Persuasive?"

"Seductive," she clarified.

"So...I seduced you," he said.

She nodded her head. A bit of irritation crept into the man's emotions. He kept himself calm, needing to know more since her revelation did not help him to recall anything. "Why would you let me seduce you?"

The girl shifted in her seat and sighed. She had been caught and knew she had to tell the truth, though it was draining her. She looked down, unable to meet his eyes while she answered. "Because you're handsome. Because I was curious and my fiance isn't here."

The girl paused, holding the redcoat officer spellbound, still flabbergasted at what had gone on between the two of them.

"Because I trust you," she whispered, as if it were a secret, or some kind of shame.

Hugh let go a heavy breath and stood up. He paced a couple of steps, running his hand through his unbound hair, before closing his eyes and shaking his head. The captain was wracked with shame, guilt, and remorse.

After some time of silence, he finally spoke again. "I took something that wasn't my right to take," he admitted aloud, but as if talking to himself.

"No," she countered in a murmur, "I gave it willingly." She looked up at him finally, her light brown eyes full of an innocence that she no longer possessed, and a willingness to take the blame upon herself. That put a barb firmly inside the redcoat commander's soul.

"That doesn't make me feel any better," he confided, feeling that desire to be let off the hook, but knowing he was to blame and could not be unbound from it. The dragoon paced a few nervous steps again then turned back to face the girl.

"Commander Clark, even though he is a traitor, is betrothed to you," Bordon began, as if he needed to explain or justify anything at the moment. "He and he alone has the right to possess your virtue on your wedding night, not I."

Betsy said nothing, knowing no words could ease the man's torment. It was a drunken mistake.

He sat back down and looked desperately at the girl. "If you feel the need to report me to the colonel, then I will not deny it and accept my terms."

"I let you," Betsy reminded him. "How can I report you?"

"Did I hurt you?" still needing to know what transpired in her bedchamber.

"No...I mean...yes...well," she stammered, "It did hurt, for a moment, but you were gentle."

"Miss Burwell, if you should find yourself with child," he began in earnest, "I will not deny it. I shall take responsibility for my actions and will see to you and the child."

The young woman was suddenly embarrassed again, not knowing what to say. After letting out a breath, she spoke. "I don't think that will happen."

"Oh, you are so innocent," he said, "It only takes one time."

"I know, sir," she said. "You left no seed."

"What?" Bordon is incredulous.

"You blacked out cold, on top of me. You did not complete."

Though still distraught that the drunken episode had happened, he breathed a sigh of relief. He had pictured himself with a musket at his back being forced to marry the young girl. Since his marriage ending with his wife and child dead from illness, he had not been anxious to settle down again—especially while fighting a war. He preferred to remain a fighting man primarily and could marry after Britain had won this conflict.

"I hope you won't speak of this to anyone," Bordon appealed, "I could lose my commission. It is against regulation to be intimate with prisoners. And though I purchased a commission to get into the dragoons, I have been promoted by rank on accomplishment. And, I admit my ambition is to keep moving up, hopefully to the position of General."

Miss Burwell wanted to assure the dragoon adjutant for his own peace of mind, yet she knew it was good to keep him on her side, to advocate for her for the duration of her term as a prisoner of His Majesty's Army. "It serves no purpose for me to say anything of this," Betsy relented. "It gets you into trouble and inspires gossip and talk about me, which you know I hate being the subject of gossip, and could not bear what my father and Colonel Clark would say...or do if they were to get wind of this."

"Look, I do think you are beautiful and any man would consider himself lucky to have your betrothal. You are from a well to do family. But you and I cannot do this again, no matter how drunk either of us may be."

"Yes, I know. I understand," she said softly.

Bordon took her left hand in his and kissed it, and said, "With the utmost respect," then returned her bracelet to her, clasping it around her wrist.

Betsy smiled and left, going into her room. Once there she sank against the closed door, not knowing how to feel. She was relieved that their actions would remain unknown to all, yet was unsettled that he had found out. But most of all she felt disappointed. Disappointed that she would never have a chance to bed him while sober, an experience they could both remember and enjoy.