The Captain's Homecoming

I laughed at Lord Beaumont’s paltry joke along with the others, but I had never been so supremely bored in my life. The only thing redeeming the evening was the sadistic pleasure I took in the male glances following me about the room. If only Andrew were here to see it. How we would laugh!

I flirted with them, of course. Just enough to cause them to make an overture. As if they could ever outmatch a certain captain in the Tenth Hussars.

His regiment would arrive tomorrow morning. Until then, there was this dreadful party to finish. I would leave as early as possible, but that wouldn’t be for hours. At least the supper dance would begin momentarily. I would put up with these fools until two o’clock, but no longer.

“Will you do me the honour, Mrs Harringsford?” asked Lord Beaumont.

And be subjected to your asinine conversation all through supper? I think not!

“I’m sorry, I’m afraid I’ve promised the supper dance to Lord Hastings.” I gestured to the young man at my side, knowing he would rescue me. Hastings wasn’t too much brighter than the others, but, as he was a close friend, he was vastly preferable to Beaumont.

Hastings obligingly offered me his arm, and we moved out onto the floor. As we waited for the rest of the dancers to pair off and join the set, a familiar figure in a captain’s regimentals appeared in the doorway of the ballroom. He was back early.

Andrew swung a brief glance around the room. He saw me but, other than a brief nod from a distance, we could exchanged no greeting. A seductive thrill ran through my body, settling itself at that precise spot between my thighs. His blonde hair was bleached nearly white by long hours under the sun. His face was tanned by that same exposure. His broad shoulders set off the regimentals as they were meant to be seen. God, he was gorgeous.

The few girls that were not yet claimed for the supper dance were immediately on him, like flies to honey. I smiled.

You’re wasting your time, ladies.

Not only was Andrew drenched in sex appeal, but he was rich, as well as a friend of the Prince of Wales. Married or not, he could have any woman he wanted. That is, if he was willing to deal with my – reaction.

He chose one of the girls, seemingly at random, and joined the set as the music began. As the motions of the dance began, I tried to politely pay attention to Hastings conversation, but my gaze keep wandering to Andrew as he smiled benignly at his partner. The steps of the dance showed off his long legs, enclosed in breeches that left little to the imagination. My mind was willing to try, it seemed. I continued to wish for the end of the evening, but for very different reasons than before.

I had to be content with the end of the dance. Hasting led me into the supper room and politely held the chair as I sat. I smiled as I realized we would be sitting across from Andrew and his partner. I flashed him a sweet smile as he helped the girl into her seat and sat in the chair directly across from me. His gaze flickered over me, not a muscle in his face betraying him, but his eyes speaking volumes.

Our host had provided a veritable banquet to sustain us until the early hours of the morning, but found myself eating next to nothing. Andrew’s sudden appearance had distracted me from all else. I found myself irrationally jealous of the meek little thing that was his supper partner. Why should she be allowed to bask under Andrew’s smiles when I was banished to the other side of the table, ignored?

Suddenly feeling myself in the mood for revenge, I silently slipped my right foot out of my shoe. Stretching my leg, I began by letting my toes run lightly over Andrew’s ankle. He risked flashing me a quick smile, but immediately turned back to his partner, who was trying feebly to make a light joke.

Pushing my lower lip out in a slight pout, I allowed my foot to run higher on Andrew’s leg. He ignored me as I caressed his calf, so I lifted my leg and let my toes run up the inside of his thigh. His eyebrows rose in a flash of shock, but he recovered, shooting me a scolding look. Beneath the table, he seized my ankle gently and pushed my foot back to the floor. I didn’t protest.

I waited until he glanced back at me again, his eyes wary. Then, snaking my leg out again, I slid my foot against his other thigh, running it high enough to brush lightly over the crotch of his breeches. Andrew’s cheeks turned slightly pink as I rubbed my toes over the growing bulge. They ran in light circles around it until I could feel the fabric of his breeches straining against his erection. His looks to me were increasing, each one more pleading than the last. I only bit my lip seductively and kept my foot moving, now rubbing rhythmically against him. His body looked relaxed, but I saw his knuckles were white where he clenched the edge of the table. I gradually increased the tempo of my ministrations, feeling myself growing slightly wet as I thought of other things I wanted to do to him.

I didn’t want him to climax, that is, not just yet, so I gently pulled my foot away and lowered it to the floor, slipping my shoe back on. He shot me a last look that positively shouted,

just wait until I get you home.

I returned it with a smile. I was looking forward to it.

When the supper broke up a few minutes later, I immediately accepted Hastings’ invitation to dance, wanting to avoid Andrew for just a little while. I was beginning to enjoy this little game and I didn’t want it to end too soon. The evening was finally growing interesting.

Just before Hastings and I took the floor, I was struck with an idea. Excusing myself, I slipped into one of the small alcoves hidden amongst the tapestries about the room. I had worn a lace fichu this evening; it filled in the low neckline of the dress I wore. With a quick flick of the wrist, I pulled it loose and tucked it behind the sofa that was in the small, dim enclosure. I quickly looked in the mirror, which was the only other furniture in the alcove, and gave the dress a few small tugs, pulling the bodice that fraction of an inch lower. The dark green fabric set off my white skin admirably. Fixing a couple of the reddish-gold curls that tumbled over my neck, I returned to Lord Hastings and we took the floor.

The dance was immensely enjoyable to me. Hastings, on the other hand, looked vastly uncomfortable. His gaze kept wandering to my neckline, where my breasts were exposed almost to the areolas. I nearly laughed; it was obvious what was going through his mind, and even more obvious that he felt guilty to think such things about the wife of a friend. I shouldn’t have been putting him through this, but as I looked at Andrew, standing across the room, his arms crossed tightly against his chest, I remembered it was for a very good cause.

When the dance ended, Hastings wanted to lead me into my husband protection, but I gently guided him back to Beaumont and his friends. Once he had delivered me, he sheepishly disappeared. My companions and I were quickly provided with glasses of wine by a passing servant as we continued to converse.

Lord Beaumont and his friends played their parts well. As I laughed at their so-called wit and fluttered my fan strategically, they nearly gaped at my chest. Sir Frederick Willgates even dared to ‘accidentally’ bump my shoulder, spilling a few drops of his wine onto my exposed breasts. He immediately produced a handkerchief and began to probe at the droplets. Imagining his hands were Andrew’s, I half-closed my eyes, letting my lips fall slightly open. Sir Frederick continued to grope. I glanced at my husband through my lashes. His face was dark, his mouth set in a thin line. I brushed Sir Frederick’s hand away. Better not take this too far. If society believed my husband was being cuckolded, that was one thing, but it wouldn’t do for Andrew to suspect it himself.

The men around me were greatly encouraged by my passivity at Sir Frederick’s touch. The surreptitious looks were replaced with blatant stares. Looking up to Lord Beaumont, I saw his mouth twisting into a lustful smile. A moment later, I felt a hand pat my bottom. Giving a curtsy, I tried to excuse myself before the situation grew out of my control.

Lord Beaumont put a hand on my arm, foiling my plans for escape. “Leaving us so soon, Mrs Harringsford?” I realized belatedly that his lordship had been drinking, probably heavily. His glance moved to take in his friends. “I confess we had a hope of enjoying your – charms – for the rest of the evening.” His free hand brushed over my abdomen, moving deliberately downward.

Stumbling back from his hand, I deliberately let my hand tip the contents of my wine glass onto the front of his waistcoat. “Oh, dear! Look what I’ve gone and done! Perhaps I’ve had a bit too much champagne. I’d better find a seat for a moment.” With those words, and a quick sidestep, I escaped.

Andrew was not where I had last seen him. Looking around the room, I couldn’t see him anywhere. My heartbeat sped slightly, fearful my actions had offended him and sent him home. Spying the party’s hostess, I resolved to ask if Andrew had taken his leave.

As I hurried past the alcove I had entered earlier, someone grabbed my arm and suddenly pulled me inside. I tried cry out, but a hand closed over my mouth. The man pressed my back up against the wall of the alcove, facing me. With a rush of relief, I recognised the glittering blue eyes.

He took his hand from my mouth, then tangled it into my hair. “Hello, wife,” he muttered, not releasing me.

“Hello, Andrew,” I breathed.

For a long time, neither of us moved. Finally, Andrew’s free hand came up to touch my mouth, his thumb rubbing lightly along my lower lip. Of its own volition, my tongue moved to touch the pad of his thumb.

His hand moved to my neck, massaging it gently, then his mouth descended to mine.

He kissed me lightly, his lips barely brushing against mine, teasing me. I stroked my tongue over his lips, but the motion only made him pull away, before returning again to the soft strokes of his mouth.

“Andrew!” I moaned softly.

Kiss me properly!

He responded to my silent command, his tongue flooding my mouth with the taste of him. I slid my arms around him, my hands drifting over the firm globes of his backside as he pressed me tightly against the wall with his hips. His tongue stroked slowly in and out of my mouth, leaving me breathless. After a few endless moments, he pulled his mouth away.

I was surprised to feel the cool air of the alcove on my breasts. Glancing down, I saw the pretty mounds were almost completely exposed. Andrew’s fingers had been busy. I tilted my head back with a sigh as his mouth moved down my neck to nuzzle and lick at the exposed skin.

My arousal increasing, I slipped my hands between us and began to stoke his erection through the thin fabric of his breeches. With a low laugh, he caught my wrists, using one hand to pin them both above my head.

He gently slipped his other hand into my dress, lifting one breast completely free of the bodice. He held it lightly in his palm for a moment, his thumb teasing the tip into a hard little nub. Keeping my wrists captive, he lowered his head. His lips closed over the brown circle, his tongue probing against the taunt nipple, his suckling mouth hot and wet against my skin.

“Oh!” I breathed.

At the wordless suggestion of his groping hand, I moved my feet apart, allowing him to fondle my already warm and moist sex through the silk dress. As he stroked a finger over my entrance, I released an involuntary gasp.

Andrew mouth came away from my breast with a small popping sound and he released my wrists. My knees buckled a moment, but I manage to stay upright.

“I’m glad you’re pleased to see me, wife,” he whispered, somehow making the last word unbelievably erotic. “If only every man’s homecoming could be so welcoming.”

I smiled.

You want a welcome, do you?

All my mischievous instincts had awakened. Taking Andrew’s hand I led him to the sofa, stripping the bright scarlet coat from his back, then made him sit. When I took the cushion from the end of the sofa, he smirked. He knew what was coming. Dropping the cushion at my feet, I knelt between his legs. Smiling up at him, I reached out to cup my hand over the bulge in his breeches. “Gentle or rough?”

“Rough,” he answered, winking roguishly.

Rising slightly from my knees I laid a hand against his cheek, joining our mouths in a deep kiss. Lowering myself down again, I made quick work of the fastenings of his breeches and pulled him out. The scent of aroused male, of Andrew, wafted over me.

He was already fully erect, hard and warm against my exploring fingers. A bit of moisture glistened on the tip. Licking my lips in anticipation, I wrapped my fingers around the base of his shaft. The beautiful organ extended several inches beyond my small hand. Lowering my mouth to him, I kissed the little drop of moisture, spreading the salt taste over my lips. My free hand joined the other at the base, stroking his testicles, as my lips opened and my tongue slid over him. I ran my tongue all the way to the base and slowly back up, then pulled away and blew a light breath across the tip. I managed to repeat this process two or three times before I felt Andrew’s strong hands slide into my hair and gently guide himself between my lips.

I couldn’t take all of him inside, so my hand worked in harmony to my mouth’s slow rhythm, taking as much of him in as I could, then slowly letting my lips and tongue slid over the ribbed flesh to the tip, then back over him again. His hands were still tangled in my hair, but passively. He made no sound. I paused to look up and gauge his enjoyment. For a moment, he only sat still, his eyes closed. When he opened them, their blue colour was almost invisible behind his pupils. “Don’t stop now, Julia,” he said huskily. “Or are you waiting for someone to join us?”

Suddenly, I realized I could hear the buzz of conversation and the clink of wine glasses just a few feet away. My heartbeat sped as I glanced to the tapestry, the only thing separating us from the crowded room. Eagerly, I opened my mouth to take him back inside, but his hold tightened on my hair.

“Oh, and you mustn’t have heard me, m’dear. I asked for it rough.”

Amused by his tone, I went back down onto him. My rhythm still teasingly slow, I now ran my teeth lightly over the sensitive skin. My fingernails did the same to his testicles and soon I was rewarded with a few suppressed moans. Pleased, I began to increase the tempo of my mouth and hand, still lightly grating at his skin. He whispered my name, sending a flood of desire down to my own sex.

I felt the tension in his body growing as he continued to moan softly. I stopped grating his skin and began to suck hard at his tip, while my hand continued to stroke the base. Soon, felt the telltale tightening and, a moment or two later, he climaxed in my mouth. I eagerly swallowed his seed, then continued the suction until he was spent.

He collapsed back on the sofa as I readily licked up the few drops of seed I had somehow missed . Strangely proud, I gently tucked the appendage back into his breeches and fastened them shut. Leaning back on my heels, I smiled up at him, amused by the blissful expression on his face.

“Welcome home, Andrew,” I said demurely.

His hands, still tangled in my hair, pulled me up from my knees. Given no other option, I settled onto his lap, wrapping my arms around his neck.

“You are a remarkable woman, my little Julia.”

He pulled my mouth to his and gave me a kiss, his tongue veritably dancing in my mouth. Shivering, I felt his hands return to my still exposed breasts, kneading and stroking until I began to pant softly. It was all I could do to keep my arms around his neck and avoid sliding off his lap. One hand found its was under my skirt and slowly, with feather-light touches, made its way up the inside of my leg. The idea of Andrew’s cool fingers on my hot, dripping sex made me begin to squirm, trying to bring his hand closer.

He slid me gently off his lap, pushing me so my head rested against the arm of the sofa. Slowly, so slowly, he pushed the skirt of my dress up my legs, caressing every inch as it was exposed, the ankles and calves through the stockings, then on to the naked flesh of my knees and lower thighs. I closed my eyes, longing for his explorations to reach the moist and heated place that waited for him.

I felt his hands adjusting my skirt so it lay across my midriff, then gently nudge one of my legs onto the floor and hook the other ankle over the back of the sofa, exposing me to the cool air of the alcove. His fingers resumed their meandering journey up my thighs until he was tenderly stroking the sensitive crease where my leg joined my sex. I shifted my hips, trying to move his fingers that fraction of an inch to where I wanted them. His hand shifted with me, foiling my attempts.

“Andrew...”

“Yes, Julia?”

“Touch me, Andrew.”

His fingers wandered back down my thigh. “I am, my dear.”

“No,” I whispered. Grasping his wrist, I pressed his hand softly against my heated desire. “Touch me, there.”

I heard Andrew laugh, but he complied, slipping two fingers inside me. Slowly drawing them in and out, he posed the same question I had given him: “Gentle? Or rough?”

“Gentle,” I breathed.

“You like to be troublesome, don’t you?” he said with mock anger. “Very well.”

He stroked the soft folds of my sex a few more times, then abruptly pulled his fingers away. Feeling suddenly empty, my hips arched, trying to find him again, as a whimper escaped from my throat. “Oh!”

“Shh, Julia,” he whispered as his fingers stroked my abdomen. “I would remind you that you find yourself in a most compromising position right now. Best not to invite company.”

His words brought another little thrill. The party-goers on the other side of the tapestry had no idea of the places Andrew was slowly taking me. Or did they? Had anyone seen him pull me into the alcove? I glanced down, smiling at the view I presented. My bodice was not even attempting to cover my breasts. My skirt was rucked up above my navel, my legs spread indecently wide, allowing Andrew easy access to my sex. What a scene there would be if someone entered the alcove unexpectedly! The idea made me shiver.

Andrew laid a kiss just above the nest of reddish-brown curls, then extended his tongue to touch my sex. Slipping his hands beneath me, he cupped my buttocks to lift my pelvis up to meet him. I managed suppress my moans as he thoroughly licked me up and down, careful to touch every little spot, then gently pushed his strong tongue inside me, again and again, sending spirals of heated pleasure through my loins. My hands clenched the sofa so hard the muscles began to spasm. I did not cry out, despite the nearly irresistible temptation. Even so, I felt my laboured breathing and hammering heart were surely audible to the party-goers.

Andrew eventually grew satisfied with his tongue’s violations, but he was not through with me yet. He began to assault the sensitive nub just above my entrance. He licked and stroked and flicked the tiny spot without mercy or pause. With each movement, the heat built, until I was gasping for air, unaware of everything but Andrew nimble tongue. I felt ready to faint; I couldn’t breathe. My hips tilted up as I felt the approaching climax. Andrew’s hands clenched firmly on my backside. His mouth moved to cover the sensitive nub of my sex, sucking vigorously, making the heat pitch and surge until it finally broke over me in a wave of ecstasy.

Andrew released the suction of his mouth, returning his tongue to my entrance, pushing slowly in and out of me, drawing more waves of pleasure from my loins as I lay back, exhausted and trembling. Eventually, Andrew laid a last kiss on my sex, then gently pulled my skirt back down, and gathered me into his arms.