LIKE FATHER, LIKE SONS

Chapter Six

Lying in bed, Margaret wiggled her legs as she awaited John's return. She had discovered that stretching her limbs was most advisable before they…frolicked, for, after all, being limber was in everybody's best interests.

It was not long before the door creaked ajar and her husband appeared. At last! Eyeing him reflectively, she was thankful to see the tranquil air that had settled on him.

'How did it go?' she enquired.

'Better than I expected,' he grinned as he began to undress. 'You should have seen them, Meg, with their red, puffy eyes and their runny noses, they'd obviously been bawlin', little lambs,' he murmured. Then noticing her shamble disconcertingly, he tallied, 'It's all right, love, they're just fine, you don't need to tend to them.'

It was true, the lads were fine, but also, John had no intention of letting Margaret or himself leave this room again for the rest of the night. It did not matter if the world imploded outside their window, they were staying put.

Margaret was relieved and let herself relax. 'What did you say to them?'

'Just the same as you suggested. I told them that I understood that they wanted to get to know the mill. Then I said that I was sorry for being so harsh. I tried to make them grasp that the factory is a severely dangerous place and my concern does not come from a fear of what will become of the machines, but a fear that something will happen to my lads. I told them that I cannot bear to lose them, for they are more dear to me than they know.'

'Good,' Margaret praised, 'I am glad to hear it.' Although, she could not help but be a smidgen distracted by John's ever-diminishing attire. After all, it had been little over an hour earlier that the two of them had been in this bed together, naked, locked in an intimate embrace that promised to take them to the edge of bliss.

'And I have to say that Le Havre was not my only accomplishment this week, by no means, for it seems I managed to strike a deal with our rebels. I mean, after all, I am a tradesman, it's what we do,' he joked.

'Of course, and who better to negotiate than John Thornton?' Margaret quipped, her nerves tingling at the sight of his robust jaw and neck as he stripped away his cravat. 'The most celebrated manufacturer in Milton.'

'Precisely. I made a pact that if they promise to stop creeping off to the mill, then I promised that I would start taking them there on a regular basis and they can help me when and where I deem it safe.'

'Oh, John!' Margaret exclaimed. 'They will love that!'

'They did seem pleased,' John acknowledged. 'So, with the terms of our contract settled, I gave them a cuddle goodnight and they both settled down to sleep, so all in all, I think it was a good end to this story,' he concluded, stripping off the last of his clothes and standing nude.

'Oh! But before I left, they asked why, if I'm such a bear, did you agree to marry me.'

'Oh?' Margaret tittered, a bit preoccupied by his peni – his pelvis! - yes, his pelvis. 'And what did you say?' Her thighs shuddered as the brawny muscles on his broad back shifted.

John turned to face her and shrugged nonchalantly, no longer abashed to be exposed before her, both his body and his heart laid bare before her. 'I told them the truth; I said you begged me, and in the end, I gave in.'

Margaret gasped. 'Oye!' she blustered, picking up a pillow and hurling it at his head.

John snorted as he caught the cushion before it clouted him on the nose. He adored it when Margaret used one of his coarse idioms, it reminded him that his fine southern lass was susceptible to his brusque northern ways and that she was truly at home here in Milton, meaning that they could be together tonight, as man and wife.

However, this soon made John remember that he had other matters to attend to. 'Now…,' he started, a frisky look on his face, 'Where were we?'

Forgiving her husband in an instant, Margaret smirked. With slow and deliberate flirtation, she dragged back the bedsheets, revealing that she was completely naked from top to toe. Then, as she teasingly spread her legs, she extended her hand and tapped a bowl of whipped cream that sat waiting on a nearby bureau. Swiping her finger across it, she returned the sugared digit to her mouth and popped it inside, seductively swirling her tongue around it.

His eyes ravenously raked over her body, taking in the voluptuous curves of her hips, the swell of her enormous tits, the bead of her plump nipples, the silky smoothness of her slim legs, and of course, the velvety patch of Heaven that belonged to that special spot between her thighs. Heck! His wife was the blinking Venus de Milo! How did a woman who had given birth to five babies – five of his hefty nurslings, mind ─ still manage to look like a goddess? God! Margaret, this Aphrodite of Milton, she was the most alluring temptress to ever walk this earth, and…she was in his bed. It did not take her eager husband long to dash across the room, jump into the bed, clamber on top of a giggling Margaret, and cocoon them under the covers, ready for business.

A few minutes later, as they kissed, John pulled back and gazed at his wife in worship.

Feeling shy, she cleared her throat and asked: 'Well, then, Mr Thornton, will you have your wicked way with me?'

Margaret felt her cheeks blush as John looked at her in that penetrating way that only he could. He did not smile, and he did not frown. 'No,' he answered plainly.

Margaret blinked. 'No?'

John smiled, the smallest and slightest of smiles that made her soul swoon. 'No, my darling girl,' he whispered, winding a ringlet of her hair between his fingers. 'I want to make love to you. I want to show you just how much you mean to me.'

'Oh, John!' she sighed softly, lifting her head and pressing her lips against his. He smelt of smoke, and soot and soap, and she glowed, for he smelt like her John, he smelt like home. Goodness! How she adored everything about this man.

'John.'

'Hmm?'

'I love you.'

'I love you too,' he echoed, as his lips ghosted her forehead. 'I love you to the moon and back…'

'And further still,' they said together, both chuckling.

As they kissed, their gentle caresses became more impatient and impassioned, and their hands began to wander, hungrily roaming every inch of their bodies. As John licked Margaret's breast with deliciously gradual intent, he mentioned, 'But you know, making love does not mean we cannot have some fun. So, Mrs Thornton, do tell me, who will be playing the overbearing master tonight?'

Margaret gave him a mischievous simper, and with a purposeful shove, she forced him off her. At first, he was bewildered, worrying that he had upset her, but the twinkle in her eyes soon appeased him. As she got to her knees, she pushed him back against the mattress, so that his strapping frame was lying beneath her. Then, nimbly, she moved so that she was straddling him, and John raised his arms, his biceps tightening as he placed his hands behind his head and relaxed under her ministrations.

Picking up the dessert dish, Margaret began to lace her fingers with it, before glancing down at a certain part of her husband's person that was standing to attention, braced for action. Then, slowly, excruciatingly slowly, she let the tips of her fingers tease and torment his sensitive skin, as she lathered him in layers of cream. John's head fell back, and his toes curled as he let out a loud, sharp moan.

'To answer your question, I do not know, Mr Thornton, but it matters not.'

'And wh─wh─why is that?' he asked with a guttural grunt, his muscles tensing in response to her tantalising touch.

'Well,' she replied, taking his whole manhood in her scrunched fist, before giving him a determined tug.

John grabbed a fistful of bedsheets as he scrunched his eyes closed. Margaret was pleased with her work, amazed as ever that she could bring this strong man to his knees with so little effort. Lowering her head, she took him in her mouth, and between sucks, she breathed, 'Because, if there is one thing I know, neither of us will obey the other. We are both far too stu ─'

'Stubborn!' John cried out as he came.

Margaret lipped her lips and lay down beside her husband, giving him a chance to recover himself, her fingers tracing the contours of his chest.

'Oh!' John wheezed. 'Five, Meg! We have five stubborn babes,' he declared in disbelief.

'Yes,' she agreed dreamily, still stroking him. 'And I would not change them for the world.'

'Nor I,' John asserted. 'Who'd have thought it, ay? That day we were introduced in your father's study and you scoffed at me with haughty disdain. Who'd have thought that the two of us would fall in love? That we would eventually marry? That we would have five bairns? That we would be ridiculously happy? And we would be in bed together like this?' he asked with incredulity, wrapping her in his arms.

'Hmm…but you know, I do not think five will do, Mr Thornton, for I believe we will be having another litter of puppies,' she predicted, brushing her nose against his.

John quickly sat up and regarded her carefully. He let his eyes dart to her stomach, almost as if he could see right through her. 'Meg?' he breathed. 'Margaret, darling, are you?' he questioned, placing a protective palm on her belly.

'No,' she said apologetically, sorry to have raised his hopes without cause. 'No, John, but I would just like lots and lots of little ones that are made of you and me. I want more tiny Thorntons, don't you?'

'Yes,' he consented without hesitation. 'That is a fine plan. Let us be like Abraham and have descendants as numerous as the stars.'

'Yes, let's! How many then? Another one, two, three?'

Margaret's eyelids fluttered as her husband's thumb began to strum between her legs and a tingling feeling washed over her.

'Dozens,' he murmured in a deep voice, kissing her neck. 'A hundred,' he suggested, hooking her leg over his shoulder. 'A thousand,' he growled, catching her bottom lip between his teeth and groaned as she moaned.

'Well then, we had better get on with it,' she whimpered, her gratification intensifying as he slipped his fingers inside, fondling her wetness.

But there would be no more talking, for John drew his wife close and crushed his lips against hers, and the next hour was lost to a passionate and private haze of pleasure.

Still, unknown to both John and Margaret, on that cold January night, as they made love, they did in fact conceive again, an addition to the Thornton family that would prove to be just as stubborn as all the rest. But best of all, dear reader…

…they were twins.

The End