In You I Trust

by Angelswing236

After the biggest trauma of her life, Mary finds compassion and support from an unlikely source.

24. Chapter 24

Author's note: Thank you so much for the reviews. I can't tell you how much I appreciate them. Just a heads-up to say things get a bit steamy towards the end of this chapter.

---

November 1913

'Don't you agree, Cousin Mary?'

Matthew glanced across at Sybil when Mary failed to answer, her concentration apparently on the fireplace instead. Sybil returned his look, giving a slight shrug, and then reached forward to tap her sister on the arm.

Mary jumped and snapped back to herself.

'Cousin Matthew was asking you a question, Mary,' Sybil said, cutting her eyes towards Matthew.

'Oh, I do beg your pardon, I'm afraid I was miles away,' Mary said, embarrassed to have been caught daydreaming. She was thinking yet again of the words Tom had said to her at his cottage, how he'd described what he intended to do to her when they spent the afternoon together on Tuesday. The vision he'd planted in her mind had stayed with her, rising to ambush her at sometimes the most inconvenient moments. Like now.

'That's quite all right. I have never claimed to be the most interesting conversationalist in the world,' Matthew replied with a genial smile.

'Oh, I think you are doing yourself an injustice, Matthew. I always find you eminently interesting,' Sybil said, bestowing a smile on him so fond that Mary thought everyone in the room would notice and remark on it.

Matthew tilted his head and smiled back at Sybil, equally fondly. 'That's because you, my dear Sybil, are too kind and forgiving for your own good. I can be horribly boring at times.'

'Not to me,' she murmured, her eyes locked on his.

For a few seconds, Mary sat there between her sister and their cousin feeling like a gooseberry. Finally, she cleared her throat, breaking the moment.

'So, what was it you were asking me, Matthew?'

'Hmmm?' he said, his eyes lingering on Sybil before he caught himself and reverted to his usual courteous behaviour. 'Oh, um, it doesn't matter. It was nothing important. I was merely asking your opinion on the latest spat between my mother and your grandmother. It seems like nothing more than a storm in a teacup to me.'

Mary gave a slight roll of her eyes. 'Aren't most of their spats exactly that? Sometimes I think they simply find it entertaining to take opposite positions in an argument. I'm quite sure Granny would argue that a peony was pink if Isobel said it was purple.'

Matthew chuckled, nodding his head. 'I think you may have the right of it there.'

'Well, I think they are getting a little fonder of each other,' Sybil said, glancing across at the two older women, sitting side by side across the room.

Matthew and Mary turned twin disbelieving expressions on her.

'I do!' Sybil insisted. 'I think all this bickering is how they are finding their way with each other.'

'I think you're right, Matthew. Sybil is too kind and forgiving. She's also the most optimistic person I know,' Mary observed, dryly.

'Yes, but I don't think I would wish her to be any different,' Matthew replied, gazing at Sybil once again with yet another fond smile on his face.

Mary tried to hide her smile of amusement as Sybil blushed and smiled prettily back at him. How nobody else seemed to have spotted this budding relationship between the two of them, she simply couldn't begin to fathom what with how obvious they were being.

---

Mary looked up into the mirror, the smile on her face dying as the sister she wasn't expecting slid into her room that evening.

'What are you doing here?' she asked, her voice flat.

Edith meandered across the room, slumping into the easy chair near the dressing table. She gazed at Mary silently.

'What?' Mary snapped, feeling unsettled by this strangely silent version of Edith.

'How do you deal with it?' Edith finally said, tipping her head as if to help her study Mary better.

'Deal with what?' Mary asked, confused by the non-sequitur.

'All those rumours about you in London,' Edith said, still gazing intently at her.

Mary flushed, despite herself. 'What do you know about it?'

'I know there are rumours. I know that you were hardly received anywhere in London when you were down there.'

'It's none of your business.'

'Oh, but it is because Mama has said that your scandal is going to affect me and Sybil too,' Edith said, a touch of bitterness seeping into her voice.

Mary turned away from Edith, a sliver of guilt piercing her because even if the rumours weren't true, the effect they could have on her sisters was very real. She began to unclasp her bracelets and pull them from her wrists.

'There is no scandal, just bored people inventing stories to entertain themselves,' she said in a tone she hoped would end the conversation.

'What are they saying you've done?' Edith asked, wondering if perhaps it was something else and not her letter that had sparked the rumours about her sister.

'I won't repeat them. Certainly not to you,' Mary said, stiffly.

'I think I deserve to know,' Edith insisted.

'Well, ask Mama then,' Mary snapped, her patience running thin.

'So, I'm not to know the reason why Mama has told me to lower my expectations when it comes to making a suitable marriage?' Edith retorted. 'I'm not to know why Sybil and I may end up as spinsters?'

Mary shot her an angry look, wishing Edith would go away and leave her be. 'Sybil will be fine,' she bit out, knowing that whatever rumours there were about her, Matthew would not let it get in the way of making Sybil his wife if that is what he wanted. And if not, Sybil was too sweet and too beautiful to remain on the shelf.

'But I won't?' Edith shot back, anger and jealousy twisting in her gut.

Mary simply gazed at her, saying nothing.

Edith nodded, her mouth tightening into an ugly slash. 'Right. I see. I have nothing to offer but the family name, do I? And you've irreparably tarnished that.'

'No, I have not,' Mary bit back. 'I have done nothing.'

'Nothing except ruin my life!' Edith hissed, trying to hold back the tears that were threatening. She would be damned before she cried in front of Mary.

'Mary? Edith?' Sybil said, stopping uncertainly as she came in the door and saw her sisters glaring at each other. 'What's going on?'

'Nothing,' Edith snapped. 'Nothing except Mary being a nasty witch as usual.'

'Why? What's happened?'

'Ask her. See if she'll tell you what she won't tell me,' Edith sniped, rising to her feet. She stared down at Mary, loathing on her face. 'I hate you. I hate you to the very depths of my soul.'

'Edith! You don't mean that!' Sybil cried, rushing forward, ever the peacemaker.

'Yes, I do. She's had everything, every advantage, and what has she done with it? Used it to ruin us all.'

Mary rose to stand face to face with Edith. 'Get out,' she said, her voice icy calm. 'Get out of my room.'

'With pleasure. You make me sick!' Edith snarled and stalked towards the door, pushing past Sybil.

Sybil turned to watch her go and then spun around to look at Mary. 'What was that all about? What's happened?'

'Nothing's happened,' Mary replied, sinking back onto her stool, more shaken by the encounter than she cared to admit.

'Well, that's not true. Edith was furious. What's happened, Mary? Tell me,' Sybil demanded, standing firm.

Mary sighed, realising she would not be able to brush this aside. 'Has Mama spoken to you?'

'About what?'

'About lowering your expectations for marriage.'

'No,' Sybil said, looking surprised. 'Why would she do that? Has something happened to our dowries?'

'No. There are… rumours circulating. About me,' Mary said, reluctantly.

'Rumours? What kind of rumours?' Sybil asked, coming closer.

'Salacious rumours. Untrue rumours.'

'About what?'

'About me and… Mr Pamuk,' Mary said, forcing herself to use his name.

Sybil frowned. 'The Turkish gentleman who died here after the hunt?'

'Yes.'

'I don't understand. What could anyone possibly say about that?'

''You don't need to know, Sybil.'

'I'm not a child, Mary,' Sybil retorted, displeased to be treated like that by her eldest sister. 'What are people saying? They can't think you had anything to do with his death, surely?'

Mary gave a bitter laugh. 'Who knows? They seem to think all kinds of things about me and Mr Pamuk.'

Sybil stared at her, shock rushing through her as she realised what the thrust of the rumours might be. 'Do people think you and he… that you…'

'That I gave myself to him?' Mary asked, bitterly. 'Yes, they do.'

'But why?' Sybil asked, perplexed. 'Why would they think that? He was only here for a day.'

'I don't know, Sybil. I just know that's what people are saying. I don't know why they are saying that. I've certainly never given anyone that impression and Mr Pamuk is dead, so he didn't start the rumours. I have no idea where they came from, but the fact of the matter is that they are out there. They are out there, and they are not going away!' Mary cried, the hopelessness and unfairness of the situation getting to her.

'Oh, you poor darling,' Sybil said, rushing over to put her arms around Mary's shoulders. 'How utterly unfair.'

Mary sagged against her sister, overwhelmed to have someone finally show her some kindness and sympathy when it came to these rumours.

'Why is Edith blaming you?' Sybil asked, stroking Mary's hair.

'Because Mama has apparently told her the rumours are likely to affect her marriage prospects,' Mary said, heavily. 'Which means they are likely to affect yours too.'

Sybil blinked and then sat down on the stool beside Mary. 'Will they?'

Mary twisted, taking hold of Sybil's hands. 'No, not if what I've seen between you and Matthew blossoms even further. If he wants to marry you, he won't let idle gossip stop him, I'm sure.'

Sybil stared at her, chewing her lip. 'No, I don't think he would,' she said, eventually. 'He wouldn't believe the rumours anyway.'

'No, I don't believe he would,' Mary agreed, feeling a rush of affection for her principled cousin. 'So, I think you'll be fine.'

'But Edith won't?' Sybil questioned, remembering how upset Edith had been.

Slowly, Mary shook her head. 'Perhaps not, no. She doesn't have a beau who will stand by her and not care about any rumours disgracing the Crawley family name. She'll have to wait and see who is prepared to disregard the rumours. And that is more likely to be a suitor on the make than a young man from a family of good reputation.'

Sybil nodded, thinking that through. She looked up at Mary. 'And what about you?'

'What about me?'

'What are your prospects?'

'Slim,' Mary acknowledged.

Understanding dawned on Sybil's face. 'That's why Mama was trying to marry you off to Sir Anthony.'

'Yes.'

'But you wouldn't have him.'

Mary sighed. 'No. I know my limitations, Sybil, and marriage to an old man like him is way past them. I would be miserable, and I would make him miserable.'

'But what will you do if you can't marry?' Sybil asked anxiously, well aware even at her tender age that security for a woman came from the marriage she was able to make.

'I'll be fine. I will simply ride it out; wait for people to get bored and forget about it,' Mary said, stoutly.

Sybil gazed at her, sympathy on her face. 'Well, I'm sure Matthew won't see you homeless,' she said, firmly. 'Certainly not if he's married to me.'

Mary huffed out a small, tired laugh and squeezed her sister's hands. 'I know. But I'm sure it won't come to that.'

'I know it won't,' Sybil said, loyally. 'And I'm sure everything will be fine for Edith, too. She can wait out the rumours just like you intend to. She's just upset because Mama's taken her by surprise.'

'Maybe,' Mary said, unable to keep the doubt from her voice.

'Don't you think that's true?' Sybil asked, a slight frown on her face.

Mary sighed, deciding to be honest with Sybil. 'Men tend to value a woman who is either attractive or captivating or both. Edith is… not either of those things.'

'Mary! That's rather harsh,' Sybil scolded, dropping her sister's hands. 'I know you find it hard to see them, but Edith does possess some good qualities.'

'Perhaps she does, but I'm not sure they are qualities that the young men of our acquaintance are looking for. In my experience, they don't want to marry their mother,' Mary said, bluntly. 'Edith isn't pretty enough to draw in suitors and she's not exciting enough to attract them either. You must know that, Sybil. If she was, why haven't any suitors come to Downton or Grantham House in the time since she came out?'

Sybil sat silently, turning Mary's words over in her mind, trying to find fault with her logic.

'I know you think I'm being horrible, but I'm not, honestly, I'm not. I'm being realistic,' Mary said quietly, hoping Sybil would believe her.

'Well, I'm sure Matthew won't see her homeless either,' Sybil said, eventually.

Mary nudged her gently. 'It looks like all our futures might depend on you captivating Matthew enough to get him to propose.'

'No pressure then?' Sybil said, blowing out a breath.

'I think he's very taken with you,' Mary said, reaching for Sybil's hand again. 'I don't think it's much of a stretch to imagine that he will. Maybe not until you are eighteen, but it wouldn't surprise me if he didn't wait much longer than that.'

Sybil coloured up, her eyes sparkling. 'Do you really think so?'

'Yes, my darling, I do. Let's just hope the prospect of having your spinster sisters living with you for eternity doesn't put him off!' Mary said, giving Sybil a small smile.

'Love me, love my sisters,' Sybil joked weakly.

Mary squeezed Sybil's hands once more. 'Everything will be fine, Sybil. I'm sure it will. Now, I should ring for Anna to help me change otherwise the poor girl will be asleep on her feet soon.'

Sybil nodded, rising from the stool. 'I'll come back to brush your hair, shall I?'

'That would be lovely,' Mary said, crossing to ring the bell for her maid.

---

'Hello, Daisy,' Thomas said, sauntering up to the kitchen maid as she threw slops onto the compost heap in the corner of the kitchen yard. 'How are you today?'

Daisy turned and looked at him suspiciously. Since the fair, Thomas had hardly said two words to her, which had been a huge disappointment.

'Busy,' she said, shortly.

'Aren't we all? Doesn't mean you don't have two minutes to chat to a friend, does it?'

'Are we friends then?'

'Of course, we are,' he said, silkily. 'I thought you knew that.'

'Well, it's just that you've hardly spoken to me in weeks.'

He gave an elegant shrug, his stiff livery making him look like one of the film stars she'd seen on the front of Mrs Patmore's magazine. Despite herself, Daisy felt her heart beat a little faster at how handsome Thomas was.

'Well, like you say, we've all been busy. I was just wondering, though, whether you might be able to help me with something.'

'What?' she asked, wondering if he was just using her.

'It's silly, really, but Miss O'Brien reckons that Branson and Anna are… well, you know,' he said, delicately.

'They're what?' Daisy asked, frowning.

Thomas raised an eyebrow, widening his eyes.

'Oh. Oh! She never does! Mr Branson and Anna?' Daisy said, her voice rising as the penny dropped. 'Why does she think that?'

'She says she's seen them having cosy chats, just the two of them.'

'Has she?' Daisy breathed, her eyes like saucers. 'What? Alone, like?'

Thomas nodded. 'Only I don't think they are. I don't think Anna is interested in Branson.'

Daisy pursed her lips, thinking about that. 'Well, I don't know. Maybe she is. He's quite…' she petered out, suddenly feeling embarrassed.

'Quite what?' Thomas prodded, amused.

'Well, he's… he's… he's not bad to look at. Although, he's not as handsome as… well, as some others around here,' she said, going bright pink.

Thomas smiled. 'Well, anyway, Miss O'Brien, she's that sure she's right, she's bet me sixpence that they are carrying on.'

'She never has! A whole sixpence?' Daisy said, amazed that anyone would risk their money like that.

'She has. And I don't want to part with a sixpence – '

'No, I should think not!'

' – so I was wondering if you might be able to find out the truth for me,' Thomas said, adroitly pulling Daisy into his web.

'Me?'

'Yes.'

'You want me to ask Anna if she's carrying on with Mr Branson?' Daisy asked, her eyes wide.

'Well, you might have to be a bit more subtle than that, but I'd be grateful if you could try and find out,' Thomas said, giving her a winning smile.

'Why can't you ask her?'

'Because it would hardly be appropriate, would it? What if she thought I was trying to court her? I wouldn't want anyone to get the wrong idea about me and my intentions,' Thomas said, trying to project an air of gentlemanly consideration for the reputations of all concerned.

'Oh, no, I suppose not.'

'So, will you try to find out? For me?' Thomas asked, stopping just short of batting his eyelashes at Daisy.

She stared at him and then nodded. 'All right. I'll have a think and see what I can do.'

'Thank you, Daisy,' Thomas said, beaming at the girl. 'And maybe while you're at it, you could find out whether Mr Branson has a sweetheart even if it's not Anna. It might help me persuade Miss O'Brien that it's not true about him and Anna.'

Daisy looked at him, doubtfully. 'Well, I suppose I can try.'

Thomas favoured her with his most brilliant smile. 'I knew you wouldn't let me down.'

---

On Tuesday morning, Mary bathed carefully, adding a few drops of lavender oil to the water. No matter how much she wanted to move things along with her and Tom, how much she'd been pushing him to make love to her, she had to admit to herself that she was nervous about what was going to happen that afternoon.

She wasn't normally insecure about her looks or her body, but she'd never exposed herself to a man before. Pamuk didn't count. He hadn't really looked at her, not properly. He'd hitched her nightdress up high enough to touch her between her legs, but he hadn't taken it off her. He'd only seemed interested in what was between her legs, not her breasts. And most of the time he'd had his fingers on or in her, he'd been kissing her neck, not looking at her. Even when he'd breached her, he'd only looked long enough to shove himself inside her.

Somehow, she couldn't imagine that Tom was going to be the same. The way he looked at her when they were alone, the way she felt like his eyes caressed her, she couldn't imagine that he was going to touch her and not look at her. And she'd be lying to herself if that didn't make her a bit anxious.

She soaped her body as she lay in the bath, running her hands over her breasts, wondering if he would like them. What if they were too small? Too insignificant? He'd been with other women; what if they'd had nicer, larger breasts? What if hers were deficient in some way? Lacked something in comparison.

What if she was too skinny for him? What if he preferred a more curvaceous woman? What if her figure was too boyish for him to be truly attracted to?

Mary closed her eyes, taking deep breaths and trying not to think about it, instead conjuring up the image of Tom shirtless that time a few weeks ago. Perhaps they could stick with just him taking his shirt off this afternoon. Perhaps she could just kiss his chest and they could leave him kissing hers for a while. Just until she felt a little braver about the whole thing.

But then, she worried, would her fears just get worse if she didn't face them? She was not a coward, never had been. She always confronted her fears head-on. Maybe she should do that this afternoon. Tom would be understanding, she knew he would. And perhaps it would be fine. Perhaps she was worrying about nothing.

But then she looked down at her small breasts, the tips barely breaking the surface of the water, and her insecurities rose up again.

---

By the time she got to Tom's cottage that afternoon, Mary had made a decision. She let herself in and barrelled into the kitchen, pulling the pins out of her hat and tossing it on the table as he rose to his feet, smiling at her.

'Take me to bed!' she demanded, throwing herself at him.

He staggered a little as he caught her, and she wrapped her arms around his neck. 'Well, hello to you, too.'

'Hello,' she said breathlessly, kissing him.

He kissed her back, feeling her relax a little in his arms, some of the tension leaving her. But then he smoothed his hand gently over the swell of her bottom and she tensed again.

'Are you all right?' he asked as the kiss ended.

'Perfectly, yes. Are you going to take me to bed now?' she said again, impatient to get it over with.

He gave her a quizzical look. 'Is that what you want?'

He didn't miss the slight hesitation before she replied.

'Yes, of course, I do,' she said, pushing away from him.

Tom looked at her carefully, taking in the nervous energy that had her constantly moving, her fingers tapping, bouncing on her heels. She was jittery, that was the only word for it.

'Mary, we don't have to. Not if you don't want to,' he said, gently.

She frowned at him, partly annoyed with him for giving her an out if she wanted it when she'd screwed up her courage and partly scared he was changing his mind about wanting to be with her.

'Don't you want to?' she snapped.

Tom took a step forward, closing the gap between them, rubbing his hands gently up and down her arms. 'Of course, I do, but only if it's what you want too. I'm not about to make you do anything you don't want to do or anything you're not ready for.'

Mary stared at him, and then sighed, her shoulders slumping. 'I do want to, but I'm…'

'You're what?' he asked, softly.

'Nervous.'

He smiled at her, still running his hands soothingly up and down her arms. 'There's nothing wrong with that. I'd be surprised if you weren't nervous.'

'Really? Are you nervous?' she asked, wondering for the first time if he had any insecurities about this whole situation.

He nodded. 'A little.'

'What are you nervous about?' she asked, curiously. 'You've done this before, haven't you? That's what you said.'

'I have. But not with you,' he replied, tracing a finger down the side of her face and giving her a small smile.

'Does that make a difference?' she asked, suddenly suspicious that it was her fault he was nervous, that maybe he too was worried he wouldn't be attracted to her without her clothes on.

'Of course, it does. I want to make this special. I don't know yet what you'll like and what you won't like. I want to make sure that you enjoy yourself, that you won't regret this.'

Mary paused, thinking about that. It hadn't occurred to her that he might be nervous too or that he might have been worrying about whether he could please her.

'I don't know what I like either,' she said, another worry rising up to plague her.

'Well, no, of course, you don't. You haven't done this before, so how would you?'

'What if I'm no good at it?' she said, voicing another fear.

Tom smiled again. 'It's not a test, Mary. You just have to let me know how you feel as we go along. If I'm doing something you like, tell me. And if I'm doing something you don't like, tell me that too. We'll work it out between us.'

She nodded, her worries easing slightly as that made sense to her. 'But what if… what if…'

Tom waited, not wanting to push her.

'What if… what if you don't find me attractive? With my clothes off, I mean,' she said, anxiously.

Tom broke into a broad smile. 'Oh, sweetheart, is that what you're worried about?'

'A bit, yes,' she confessed.

He slid his arms around her, pulling her to him. 'Mary, my love, that is something you really don't need to worry about.'

'Isn't it? What if I'm not womanly enough for you? I'm hardly what anyone would call voluptuous,' she said, her eyes skittering away from his, unable to look at him, afraid she'd see agreement in his face.

Tom lifted a hand, taking hold of her chin and bringing her eyes back to his.

'You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. I am wildly attracted to you. I can't imagine that's ever going to change. Except perhaps to get even more intense when I see you naked,' he said, heat rising in his eyes. 'But more than that, I love you. You make my heart beat faster every time I see you. You don't think you're going to make my heart race in the bedroom? Because I do.'

'Do you?' she asked, a warm feeling rippling through her at the look on his face.

'I do,' he said, his voice low and husky. 'Even when you're fully clothed, you excite me more than any other woman I've ever met.'

'Really?' Mary breathed, her confidence returning bit by bit.

'Really. I think you're gorgeous. I think you're sexy. I think you're everything I never dared dream could be mine,' he said, looking straight at her, hiding nothing.

Mary pressed her lips together, joy bubbling up inside her at his words. 'You're certainly saying all the right things.'

'I mean them,' he said, leaning forward to steal a kiss. 'But I also mean it when I say that we don't have to do anything if you're not ready.'

She gazed at him, making a decision. 'Can we just go upstairs and lie on the bed together for a while?'

'We can do anything you want,' he said softly, kissing her again.

'Then let's go upstairs,' Mary said, stepping away from him.

For the first time, she noticed that he wasn't wearing his customary livery.

'You're not wearing your uniform,' she said, reaching out to touch the navy blue waistcoat he was wearing.

'No, it's my half-day off,' he said, amused by the look on her face.

'Blue suits you. You look very handsome in it,' Mary said, realising this was the first time she'd seen him wearing anything other than his work clothes. This was how he would look if he was a professional person like a journalist or a lawyer, and she found she liked it.

'Thank you,' he said with a smile.

'Let's go upstairs,' she said, taking hold of his hand and tugging him across the kitchen towards the stairs.

---

Strangely, Mary found that once they were in the familiar surroundings of Tom's bedroom, she didn't feel quite so nervous anymore. She'd thought the sight of the bed might have unnerved her again, but it didn't.

Perhaps some of it was what he'd said to her downstairs, but lying on the bed with him, his arms around her, trading kisses, it felt normal. It was something they'd done countless times before and it soothed her nerves even as it sent tendrils of excitement curling through her.

Tom let her set the pace, not willing to push her any further than she was willing to go, but as the kisses became deeper and more passionate, Mary's inhibitions faded away.

As one particularly heated kiss broke, she gazed up at him and then pushed him onto his back, her fingers reaching for the knot of his tie.

'I want to see your chest again,' she murmured as she tugged his tie open.

'All right,' he said, one hand resting on the small of her back as she leaned over him.

Mary pulled his tie free, tossing it over the side of the bed and then going back to open the top buttons of his shirt, tracing her fingers over the exposed skin. Tom watched her, seeing the wonder on her face.

She leant forward and pressed her lips to the hollow of his throat. He tipped his head back a little, lifting his chin to let her kiss his neck and the top of his chest. Mary pulled at his shirt, her fingers reaching for more buttons as she kissed across his skin.

She growled in frustration as his waistcoat stopped her from unbuttoning his shirt any further. 'Ugh, you're wearing so many layers.'

Tom chuckled, brushing his thumb over her cheek. 'Not that many. And all you need to do is start unbuttoning my waistcoat.'

Mary sat up, boldly swinging a leg over his and settling on his thighs. He gazed up at her in surprise and then grinned as she began attacking the buttons on his waistcoat, undoing them as quickly as she could. As the waistcoat parted, she moved onto his remaining shirt buttons, popping them open one after the other.

He watched as she pulled his shirt open, dragging it from his trousers and then looked up at her. 'Now what are you going to do with me?'

She bit her lip, looking down at his undershirt. 'You didn't have one of these on last time.'

'No, it was summer. Too hot for an undershirt.'

Mary took hold of the material, inching it up, watching avidly as she gradually exposed his skin and that tantalising trail of hair that disappeared below his waistband. She tugged at the undershirt.

'Take this off.'

Tom wriggled his arms out of his shirt and waistcoat, and then dragged the undershirt over his head, lying back on the bed and watching as she gazed at his bare chest. Reverently, she reached out a hand and put her fingers on his chest, spreading them, feeling the hair and skin beneath her fingertips.

'I like your chest,' she murmured. 'It's very… manly.'

He smiled, enjoying feeling her touch him. Mary threw him a quick look and then wriggled slightly back on his lap and bent forward, kissing his chest. Tom watched, his breathing hitching slightly as she trailed her lips over his skin.

She glanced up at him, rubbing a fingertip over one of his nipples and then she very deliberately kissed it, her tongue darting out to delicately lick it.

He groaned, the sensation stirring something in him. He'd never thought of himself as particularly sensitive in that area, but the sight of her head bent over his nipple was doing things to him.

'Is this all right?' she whispered, glancing up at him again.

'Oh, yes, yes. That's very all right,' he said, his hand coming up to cup her cheek.

Mary grinned and then ducked her head down again to kiss over to his other nipple and repeat the gesture there, smiling as it pebbled up under her tongue. She licked it again and then very gently took it between her teeth and sucked on it.

'Oh,' Tom gasped, surprised by how much that aroused him.

She let go immediately. 'Oh, I didn't hurt you, did I?'

'No, no, you didn't. I liked it,' he assured her, feeling himself stir in the trouser department.

'Oh, right. Then I'll do it again,' she said, a cheeky smile spreading on her face. And then she bent her head, as good as her word.

Tom gasped again, a moan escaping him as she began to play with his right nipple while sucking and kissing his left one. He didn't remember any of the other women he'd been with doing that to him. He could feel himself getting longer and thicker in his trousers as she touched him.

'Mary,' he groaned as she transferred her attention to his right nipple.

She lifted her head and smiled at him, and then she leaned forward and kissed him, boldly slipping her tongue into his mouth.

Tom brought both hands up, cradling her head, and kissed her deeply.

When Mary pulled back, her face flushed, she sat up straight and began to pull her blouse out of her skirt.

'Are you sure?' he whispered, his hand dropping onto her thigh.

She nodded, beginning to unbutton it. 'I want to. You seem to like that so much, I'm curious how it feels.'

Tom felt excitement swell inside him as she shrugged self-consciously out of her blouse. She sat on his thighs in her corset, her chemise underneath it, her corset cover deliberately left in the drawer today.

'You might have to help me,' she said, shyly. 'It has a lot of hooks.'

'Let me do it,' he said softly, raising his hands to undo the top hook.

Mary sat still, her breathing getting deeper, anticipation building as his hands hovered over her breasts, carefully undoing each hook in turn. When he reached the final one, the corset parted and her breasts fell slightly, no longer held in place by the stiff underwear.

Tom pulled the corset off her and dropped it on the floor alongside his own clothes. He gazed up at her, his heart pounding. Mary stared back at him, her face flushed, not sure what to do next.

Slowly, he raised a hand and slipped it under her chemise, resting it on her waist. Not taking his eyes off hers, he gently rubbed his thumb over the soft skin above her waistband.

Mary sucked in a shaky breath, arousal racing through her.

'All right?' he asked, his voice soft and low.

She nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

He smiled up at her and moved his hand slightly higher, his palm warm against her side, his fingers stroking over her ribs.

'Tell me if it's too much,' he whispered, his hand drifting slowly higher.

She nodded again, pulling her lower lip between her teeth.

Slowly, very slowly, Tom slid his hand up her torso, her skin incredibly soft under his fingers. And then his thumb grazed the underside of her breast, caressing the swell of it.

Mary made a tiny noise, holding her breath as a man touched her breasts for the first time. Just a tiny, gentle caress, but it felt like a huge step.

Tom stopped, holding very still. 'Do you want me to stop?'

'No. No,' she said, holding his gaze. 'Don't stop.'

He gave a small nod and lifted his hand higher, cupping her breast, his thumb finding her stiff nipple, and rolling gently over it.

'Ohhhhhh,' Mary gasped, a wonderful sensation rippling through her. 'Oh, that's…'

'What?' he asked gently, thumbing her nipple again.

'That… that feels lovely,' she stuttered out.

'You like it?'

'Yes. Very much so,' she said, biting back a small moan as he did it again.

'You don't have to be quiet,' he said, a smile on his face. 'If you want to moan, you can.'

Mary gave a small, happy laugh, then closed her eyes and groaned as he slid his left hand up to cup her other breast, rubbing his thumbs over both her nipples.

'Oh, goodness, I didn't think it would feel like this,' she panted, her back arching as she pushed her breasts towards him.

'What did you think it would feel like?' he asked curiously, continuing to caress her.

'I… I don't know, but I didn't think it would feel this… well, intense,' she said, her upper body rippling under his touches.

'Would you let me look at you?' Tom asked, arousal pushing him to ask the question.

Mary opened her eyes and looked down at him, thrilled by the desire she saw on his face, relieved to see that he was enjoying this as much as she was. She nodded, ready to push through her remaining fears and let him see her.

She reached for the hem of her chemise and pulled it upwards before she could change her mind or lose her nerve.

Tom watched as she stripped the garment off, his eyes falling to her small, soft breasts, cradled in his hands, her nipples dark pink under his thumbs.

'Oh, God, Mary,' he whispered, unable to take his eyes off her. 'You are so beautiful.'

'Really?' she asked, still needing some reassurance that she was enough for him.

He sat up, startling her, and looked up at her, his eyes locked on hers. 'Yes. You're even more perfect than I imagined.'

She smiled in relief and darted her head forward to kiss him, feeling her breasts squash up against his bare chest as he let them go and wrapped his arms around her, kissing her back, passion rising between them.

When the kiss broke, he held her close, his lips on her neck, kissing and nuzzling her, making her head spin with the lust that swelled up inside her.

'Tom,' she said, breathlessly. 'Tom.'

'Hmm?' he murmured, not stopping what he was doing.

'Will you kiss them?'

He stopped and looked up at her.

'My breasts,' she said, a little uncertainly. 'Will you kiss them?'

'Yes. Yes, my love, I will,' he said, his voice husky with desire. And then he dropped his head, kissing his way down her chest to her breasts.

Mary gasped as he kissed the first one all over, and then he took her nipple into his mouth and sucked on it. She let out a cry, unprepared for the intense feeling of arousal that shot through her, unexpectedly heating the area between her legs.

He brought his hand up, caressing the other breast and she found herself panting, beginning to writhe on his lap.

'Oh, my God,' she gasped, tipping her head up, drowning in the incredible new sensations rushing through her body.

Tom switched his attention to her other breast, laving it with his tongue before latching onto the stiff peak and pulling another moan from her.

Mary leaned back in his arms, bracing her hands on his legs as she looked down at the top of his head, watching him use his mouth on her breasts, quite unable to believe this was happening and that it could feel this good.

She continued to watch him, her breathing coming faster and faster, the feelings intensifying until she wasn't sure she could contain them anymore. She lifted her hands, running them up his back.

'Tom, Tom, stop,' she groaned, her nails digging into his back as he sucked hard on her nipple, sending sparks flying through her body.

He released her nipple and looked up at her. 'Are you all right?'

'Oh, heavens, I've never been more all right,' she panted. 'But it's… it's making me feel…'

'What?' he asked with a grin.

'Too much. Too much,' she admitted, not sure how to describe how it was making her feel.

His grin widened. 'No, I don't think I've made you feel enough yet.'

Mary shook her head. 'I don't think I can feel anything more.'

'Yes, sweetheart, you can,' he said, his eyes sparkling wickedly.

She looked down at him, instinctively circling her hips, trying to contain the intense feelings pooling between her legs, and Tom groaned, closing his eyes. Intrigued, she did it again, feeling his hard length underneath her bottom.

'Your thing is hard,' she told him, wriggling on top of him again.

'Yes, it is,' he panted, sliding his hands down to her hips.

'Because you want to do it with me?' she asked, arousal spiking in her belly.

'Yes, but we're not going to,' he said, biting his lip, and stifling a moan.

Mary grinned as she watched his face. She leaned in, putting her lips close to his ear as she wriggled on top of him again. 'You don't have to be quiet. If you want to moan, you can,' she purred, saying his words back to him.

He laughed, grabbing her around the waist and flipping her onto her back on the bed. 'You little minx,' he said affectionately, kissing her chest and cupping her breast again.

Mary giggled, her laugh dissolving into a moan as he took a nipple into his mouth again. 'Oh, God!'

She tipped her head back, fighting to stay in control of her body, pointing her toes and flexing her hips.

Tom looked up at her, grinning devilishly. 'You like this, then?'

'Oh, my God, yes. Yes.'

He crawled up her body, kissing her deeply, and she melted into him, her hands roaming over his back and chest. Eventually, she pushed at him, ending the kiss.

'What?' he asked. 'Do you want to stop?'

She shook her head. 'No. I want to see it. Your thing. Can I see it?'

He pulled his head back, looking at her carefully. 'Do you really want to?'

'Yes.'

Slowly, he nodded his head. 'All right,' he said, rolling onto his back.

Mary turned on her side, propping herself up on her elbow, watching with interest as he reached down to undo his trousers. When all the buttons were undone, he lifted his hips to shimmy the trousers down, exposing his underwear. When he reached for the drawstring, Mary put her hand on his, stopping him. He looked up at her, an uncertain expression on his face.

'Let me,' she said, softly.

He nodded and dropped his hands either side of his hips.

Slowly, she tugged on the drawstring, feeling it give and the material slacken. Her curiosity growing, she pushed the material down, her fingers grazing over the soft skin of Tom's thing.

She ran her finger up the length of it, watching in fascination as it jumped slightly under her touch and he sucked in a breath, his belly hollowing for a few seconds.

It was soft and hard at the same time, his thing, like Pamuk's had been, but she felt no fear this time, not here in this place with this man.

She stroked her fingers down it and then wrapped them around it, squeezing it. Tom groaned, so she did it again.

'What do I do?' she whispered, unable to drag her eyes away from it.

'Tug it,' he said, his voice tight with arousal.

'Show me.'

He put his hand over hers and pulled it upwards and then back down again, repeating the motion several times.

'All right, I've got it. Let me do it,' Mary whispered, getting a rhythm going.

He nodded and dropped his hand, his fingers fisting into the bedspread beside him.

Enthralled, she watched his body twitching, his hips flexing, his muscles contracting as she continued to work him, marvelling that she was doing that to him.

'Faster,' he grunted, his voice hoarse and desperate.

Mary sped up, her wrist beginning to ache a little, wondering what exactly was going to happen.

'Oh, God. I'm going to come, Mary, I'm going to come,' he groaned, grasping at the bedspread again.

'What do you – oh!' Mary watched in fascination as Tom grunted and a pearly-coloured liquid spurted out of the end of his thing onto his stomach.

He shuddered beside her, panting and groaning, and then reached down to still her hand.

She grinned down at him. 'You ejaculated. I made you ejaculate.'

'Yes,' he said, a small, happy laugh escaping him. 'You did.'

'That's not what you called it, though.'

'No.'

'How does it feel?' she asked, curiously reaching out a finger to dab it in the liquid on his stomach. She glanced at him and then touched her finger to her tongue, wanting to know what it tasted like.

Tom watched her and shuddered again, seemingly unable to control his reaction. 'Oh, God, don't do that. You'll have me hard again in no time if you do that.'

She gave him a delighted grin. 'Really?'

'Yes. That's the stuff of dreams, that is.'

'What is? Me tasting your seed?' she asked, wanting to know more.

'The thought of your mouth anywhere near my thing,' he said, another shiver running through him.

Her eyebrows rose. 'Really? Could I do that?'

He eyed her in surprise. 'Would you want to?'

'Maybe,' she replied, a surprisingly strong feeling of want shooting through her.

'Oh, Jesus,' he muttered. 'You're going to be the death of me, but I'm going to die happy.'

She grinned and dropped a kiss on his lips. Tom responded and then pulled away, still catching his breath.

'Does that mean we're finished now?' she asked, feeling a little disappointed that this might now be over for today.

He turned his gaze on her and grinned, shaking his head. 'No, not until I've made you feel as good as you just made me feel.'

Mary squinted at him, puzzled. 'I don't think I can do what you just did. I don't have a thing.'

He laughed and reached a hand up to brush his thumb over her lips. 'No, love, but you can still come too. Just give me a second to clean up and I'll get right on that.'

She watched him as he twisted and fished a handkerchief out of his bedside cabinet and used it to mop up his seed. He dropped it on the floor and then turned onto his side, pushing her gently onto her back.

She looked up at him, wondering if he was going to kiss her breasts again, anticipation rising inside her.

'I want to make you come, my darling. Will you let me?' he asked, smoothing her escaping hair back from her face.

'What are you going to do?' she asked, mystified.

'Will you let me touch you between your legs?' he asked, ghosting a hand over her breast.

She nodded, her heart beginning to race. When Pamuk had touched her between her legs, she'd felt darts of something incredible, but she'd also been frightened at the same time. With Tom, there was no fear, just delicious anticipation.

He smiled and dipped his head down to kiss her. At the same time, he slipped his hand under her skirt, all the way up to the top of the waistband of her drawers. He tugged on the string and when the material loosened, he slid his hand down along her belly, going lower and lower.

Mary gasped into his mouth as his fingers reached her most private area and began caressing and fondling her. The feelings she'd had when he was kissing and sucking her breasts reappeared, growing in intensity. Soon, she was unable to keep still, her hips moving as he touched her, her breathing becoming heavier.

And then he touched something that almost had her shooting off the bed. Tom slid down the bed a little, kissing his way along the column of her neck as she threw her head back, her spine arching, a moan pouring out of her.

'That's it, my gorgeous girl,' he murmured encouragingly, his hand still moving between her legs stirring up feelings more blissful than any she'd ever experienced before.

'Tom! Tom!' she gasped, thrashing about, not sure she could cope with this anymore. It was too much, it felt too good, like her body was going to shake apart into a thousand pieces.

'Come on, sweetheart, come on,' he crooned, his lips moving across the skin of her upper chest.

And then, just when she thought she couldn't take it anymore, the feelings he was stirring up built to a crescendo, a wave of utter bliss rolling through her, stealing her breath.

Mary lay still, her chest heaving, barely understanding what had just happened to her. Tom raised his head from her neck, grinning at her. He withdrew his hand from between her legs, bringing it up to his mouth, sucking his fingers clean.

She watched him, panting, vaguely wondering if her heart would ever stop racing.

'Did you enjoy that?' he asked, waggling his eyebrows.

'What was that?' she managed to say, shivering as another ripple ran through her, an echo of what she'd experienced a few seconds ago.

'That was what women do instead of ejaculating,' he said, looking mighty pleased with himself. 'That was you coming.'

Mary lifted a hand, running it through her hair, still breathing heavily. 'Oh, God, for a minute there, I thought I was going to die with pleasure.'

He grinned again, bending down to kiss her. 'The French call it la petite mort, the little death, because of that.'

She squinted at him. 'How do you know that?'

'I knew a Frenchman in Dublin,' he said with a shrug.

'And you talked about that?' she asked, quite scandalised.

Tom grinned. 'We talked about all sorts, especially when we were drinking, which we usually were. Anyway, back to you. You liked it then?'

'Oh, heavens, yes,' Mary said, fervently. 'You can definitely do that to me again.'

'Good. Because I intend to,' he said, unable to wipe the smile from his face.

'I'm a bit tired now, though,' Mary said, feeling an irresistible lethargy settling over her.

'Well, we've got time for a bit of a nap,' Tom said, rolling onto his back and wriggling out of his trousers. 'Take your skirt off before it gets any more wrinkled and then we can get under the covers and cuddle and have a little sleep.'

'Hmm, all right,' Mary agreed, barely able to move.

Tom took one look at her and smiled, reaching to undo the buttons on her skirt, pulling it off her and getting up to put it on the end of the bed frame along with his trousers.

By the time he'd finished, she was almost asleep. Instead of trying to move her, he got the blanket out of the wardrobe and spread it over her. He sat on the bed and set the alarm clock and then slipped under the blanket beside her. Mary sighed and rolled into him, warm and pliant. He put his arm around her, his hand stroking along her bare back, and closed his eyes feeling happier than he could ever remember feeling before.