Lord Wyatt Browning was having an awful month. After bringing home the horse he had purchased from Lady Montgomery, the mare they had hoped to first mate him with fell ill. After she was well, there was nothing they could do to make them procreate. They tried the stallion with other mares, equally as fertile, and nothing. The animal wouldn't even get an erection.
Wyatt had written to the Montgomery household, in hopes that the stable hand would be able to come out and diagnose the animal. He'd spent a pretty penny on the thing and he wanted to get his money's worth. He received a response quickly, stating that the stable hand, Paul, and Lady Colette would be coming out to the Browning estate, in hopes of determining what was amiss. Wyatt rolled his eyes upon reading that Colette would be joining. He knew that his father and mother were happy with this, as they believed her to be a good match for him, but that didn't matter. He didn't find her appealing in any way, but he also knew that wasn't required for marriage. Men all over the country, including many of his friends, took mistresses. Or if they weren't in the market for a mistress, dalliances with the maids were equally as acceptable. If the maid threatened to talk to the lady of the house, she was fired.
As he relaxed in his room, he thought of the lady his friend, Robert Chemsley, the Marquis of Kent, had taken to the opera. He didn't catch the lady's name, nor even caught a glimpse of her face, but Lord she had the body of a goddess. A small waist that flared into generous hips ("More than enough to grab on to," Chemsley had winked) and a perfectly shaped derriere. Lustrous blond hair piled atop her head, and the slight glimpse he caught of her face gave way to full lips and a pert nose. But the attribute that Wyatt held most dear was the size of her breasts. Oh, how he longed to bury his face in between them. He felt his cock stir at the thought of the glory he knew Chemsley must have partaken in, and felt no need to stop thinking. When he had seen her, her gown was low cut enough to make her breasts spill over the top, the perfect ivory skin forming delightful half moons above the hem. Wyatt closed his eyes and reached into his trousers, stroking his cock with one hand and pulling his trousers down with the other. He imagined pulling her dress down and taking a breast into each hand, pushing them together and inserting his cock into the warm crevice they created. How she would moan and squirm and beg him to fuck her as he worked quickly between her breasts. How he would stop, only to take each straining nipple into his mouth one after another, bringing her to orgasmic levels of delight with his fingers on her clit.
Wyatt's cock throbbed at his ideas and at the quick work of his hand. It had been several weeks since he had fucked the maid at the Montgomery household, and his balls were aching for release. He moved his hand faster, thinking of how wet this mystery lady would be and how tight her cunt would feel around his cock. As the thoughts crossed his mind, he very quickly and forcefully came, the ropes of cum spurting enthusiastically onto his hand. His rapidly beating heart slowed as he leaned back into the chair, a half smile on his face. At least there was one cock that still worked, he chuckled to himself.
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Snow had begun to fall when they were half-way between the Montgomery and Browning estates, and showed no signs of stopping. Colette pressed her face against the window of the coach, squinting in an attempt to see where they were. She sighed in relief as she took in the rolling grounds and tall walls of the Browning household. The snow was coming down heavier, the wind picking up and swirling it over the roads.
"We've arrived, my lady," her driver called down from his perch, and she heard the shiver in his voice. Beside her, Paul, the stable hand, breathed a heavy sigh of relief. She turned and arched a brow in his direction, and he sheepishly smiled.
"I've never liked travelling in bad weather, my lady. Makes me nervous," he said, blushing. Colette chuckled and waved her hand, dismissing the comment.
"I feel the same way, Paul. If the snow doesn't stop within the next hour or so, I shall implore our hosts to allow us to pass the night, until it's safer for us to travel," she said, patting his knee in reassurance. The coachman opened the door of the carriage, holding out his hand to assist her down the steps. She gratefully took it, stepping down onto a sizeable mound of snow. She quirked her eyebrows at him.
"Can't be helped, my lady. This was the spot of the least amount of snow," he said apologetically. Sure enough, when she glanced around she saw drifts at least knee high.
"Very well," she said "At least help me get through it and up the steps,"
Colette was assisted through the drifts and the sharp wind, and deposited at the front doors of the beautiful Browning house. She knocked on the door, her hands freezing and cheeks stinging. The door was opened by a dignified butler, and closed after she and her party quickly stepped into the foyer.
"Lady Montgomery, I presume?" the butler asked, his voice a nasal baritone. Colette curtsied shallowly and nodded. "Right this way,"
The butler led them into a tastefully decorated parlour, where Lord James awaited them with a tray of hot tea and biscuits.
"Ah, you made it through the storm," he said, smiling as he bowed slightly at Colette's curtsy. He motioned for her and Paul to take a seat, and motioned for the maid to pour the tea.
"Yes, my lord, although the journey was not without its moments" Colette replied, motioning for a bit of cream in her tea. James chuckled, his eyes taking in her beauty. Yes, he thought, this lady would be perfect for Wyatt. The fact that she was wealthy by her own right was merely a gift. The boy deserved a beautiful woman, as he himself had found in his late wife, Lorraine.
"I assume that this gentleman here is Paul?" James asked, leaning back in his chair and sipping at his tea. Paul nodded, bowing his head down for a brief moment.
"That is correct, my lord. He's here to see what's amiss with the stallion," Colette supplied, sipping her own tea and reaching for a biscuit. She looked over at the entrance when Wyatt walked in, her eyes not betraying the maelstrom of emotions that fluttered in her stomach when she saw him again. Had she been a lesser woman, she would have licked her lips.
Wyatt was a tall man, muscular but not to the point of terrifying. He had his dark brown hair cut in the current style, and a clean-shaven face. But it was his eyes that drew Colette into their pure turquoise depths. When she had seen him last, he had looked her over once and dismissed her, inquiring simply about the horse and nothing else. She had been disappointed, but knew that it was due to her bony body.
As he walked past her to be seated next to his father, his eyes flicked over her again, but this time he actually stopped in his tracks. Colette smiled inwardly and bowed her head in greeting as he did the same.
"Lady Colette, this is my son, Lord Wyatt," James said, motioning for Wyatt to sit down. "But I believe that you two have already met," James saw the look of interest in both sets of young eyes... and the look of raw hunger in his son's.
"Yes, my lord, we did meet but for a few moments when he came to pick up the stallion," Colette supplied, sipping at her tea and refusing to meet Wyatt's bold stare. A few moments of silence followed, each sipping at their tea or biting into biscuits. James, wanting to leave the two of them alone, put down his cup and slapped his hands on his knees as he stood up.
"Well, Paul, shall we go see what the matter with the horse is?" he asked. Paul nodded and stood, following James out of the parlour saying "I think it may just take some time for him to get used to his surroundings, sir,"
Colette watched them go, unwilling to turn her head back to where she knew Wyatt watched her. She had seen him at the theatre a few days ago, while attending a show with the Marquis of Kent, and caught a few of the hungry looks he'd sent her way. She had become so turned on by them that when she arrived home, she had spent hours tirelessly frigging herself, wave after wave of glorious orgasm flowing over her. But it wasn't enough. She was still hopelessly aroused, but unwilling to seek help elsewhere. She began to breathe heavier, a flush creeping down from her cheeks to her chest, as she slowly turned her head. Moving her eyes to meet his, she was taken aback by the wolfish hunger she saw.
"Lord Wyatt?" she heard herself ask, her voice huskier and breathier than normal. He blinked and appeared to pull himself together.
"My lady, were you at the theatre with the Marquis of Kent a few days ago?" he asked, his voice slightly deeper than she remembered. She nodded slowly, setting her cup down and clasping her hands together.
"Ahh, so it was you," Wyatt said, moving from his chair to stand and look out with window into the winter storm. His cock was remembering the brief interlude upstairs before she had arrived, and was beginning to harden at the new development of the lady in question being in his household. She smelled of roses, he had noticed, and of arousal.
