Stand up for your own adventure.
Lady Ida’s Tips for the Adventurous Lady Traveler
“Ida!”
Ida froze in mid-step on the stairs as her mother walked inside the house. It turned out she and Pearl hadn’t had to rush off to Pearl’s bedroom because the duchess had been out paying calls.
But now Ida had to brace herself for a talk with her mother.
“You are back!” The duchess strode forward, holding her arms wide. She folded Ida in an unwilling hug, patting her back as though approving of her.
How long would it be before her mother returned to strong disapproval of her youngest daughter?
“I was expecting to see Lord Carson here with you, but I suppose he has to go see his family.” The duchess spoke as though it were an inconvenience for Bennett to have his own family to care about.
“It was so exciting to hear that you and he had gone off together!” the duchess continued. “I wish you had written to me, and not your sister.”
“Pearl,” Ida supplied, in case her mother had forgotten.
“But to hear that you and Lord Carson! Of course I had to break the news to Lord Bradford. He was terribly disappointed.”
“About that,” Ida began, taking her mother’s arm. “Could we speak in your sitting room? I want to share some news.”
Her mother nodded, clasping Ida’s hand in hers. “I think I can guess what the news is! And may I say I am so happy for you.”
The unsettled feeling in Ida’s stomach grew. She wasn’t dreading telling her mother not to expect her to marry Lord Carson after all; she had spoken enough truths, no matter how unwelcome, in her lifetime to have gotten over the potential awkwardness.
It was just that now that she knew how she felt, truly felt, it was agony to even speculate that it might not happen. Even though that was just what she had planned back in Della’s sitting room.
But Pearl was right. She should give him the chance to know how she felt, to allow for the possibility of their being together, no matter how much Ida feared she would do or say something that would harm his business or his family.
“So Lord Carson and I,” Ida began as she followed her mother into her sitting room.
An hour later, Ida’s ears were still ringing with the force of her mother’s shrieking.
It had not gone well.
The duchess had thought at first that Ida was joking, and then, when she understood she was not, had begun to shout. She would not acknowledge Della, despite her return to London, she never wanted to meet Nora, and she was looking forward to what the duke would say when he found out.
And then she started repeating all of it, only louder, at which point Ida excused herself and returned to her room, where she found a concerned Pearl.
And a note.
Lady Ida,
Please do me the favor of appearing at Lady Linden’s party this evening.
Lord Carson
“You’ll go, won’t you?” Pearl said, looking over her shoulder at the note. “I wasn’t planning on it, but I will now, if you will be there. Is he bringing Della, do you think?”
“I wouldn’t think so,” Ida said, shaking her head. “I don’t think Della wants anything to do with Society now. I think she just wants to be with her family. With us. And perhaps to help Mrs. Wattings reunite with her own family.”
Ida looked at the letter again, her heart fluttering. “I might as well get the ostracism over with. I’ll go tonight, if just to see how many backs are turned on me.”
Pearl stroked her shoulder. “You’re my bravest sister.”
Ida lifted an eyebrow. “Because I am willing to go to a delightful party? You have an odd notion of bravery, Pearl.”
Pearl poked her gently. “You know that’s not what I meant. To see the gentleman you love, you idiot.”
Ida laughed.
It reminded her of what it was like when he teased her, all prickly hedgehog-ness of her.
That made her throat get tight, and she tried to shove the thoughts out of her head. Yes. She would see him, and she would tell him the truth. All of it.
This time, Bennett was seated at his desk when his father strode in. The viscount frowned, and looked as though he were going to say something, but Bennett raised an eyebrow—Ida style—at him, and he shut his mouth.
His father took the seat on the other side of the desk.
“I’ve heard a rumor about you and that lady,” his father said in a disapproving tone.
“Lady Ida,” Bennett said, his voice tight.
“There is no guarantee the duke will dower this Howlett sister well, given the way she has behaved.” He looked disgusted. “Running away with you, without thinking of how it would be perceived. The duke might demand we give him money to take her.”
The evident scorn made Bennett want to punch his father. But that wouldn’t solve anything.
Though it would make him feel better.
“None of that matters.” Bennett spoke with a firm resolve. He planted his fists on the desk and rose, standing over his father, who appeared to flinch.
Good.
“I am going to ask Lady Ida to marry me. I am done with compensating for your failures.”
The marquis blinked, as though he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. And then his face got red, as though his emotions were choking him. “If you do this, you’ll be sacrificing everything just because you’ve compromised some woman.”
Bennett spoke in a slow, measured tone. “I have already sacrificed enough for the very same reason. Because you compromised some woman, and all of us suffer for it. I will not give up my own happiness because of familial obligation. The family is going to have to learn that I require a life, too.”
“And this female is going to be enough for you? Be enough when your mother suffers because of you?”
“How will she suffer?” Bennett asked, his throat tightening. “Any more than she has already, seeing your perfidy daily. Do you think she doesn’t know already? Do you think that if I spend only six hours a day on various business pursuits that she will suffer? I will always ensure she is comfortable. I just refuse to dedicate my life to ensuring your comfort.”
The marquis’s face twisted, and Bennett wondered if his father was going to strike him. Instead, he stood and pointed toward Bennett, his expression furious.
But no angrier than Bennett was.
“You are no longer welcome in this house,” his father declared. “You will not be able to see your mother and you will no longer be privy to the family business.”
Bennett snorted. “I wish it were that easy. No, Father, your complete disinterest in what has happened in this family has meant that I am the signatory on all matters of business. All this means is that you and I no longer have a relationship. I will set up my own house once Ida and I are married, and then we will invite my mother to live with us.”
“You’ll be married to a lady of uncertain virtue and living with the dullest woman that has ever been born.” The marquis spoke in a vicious tone, and Bennett wondered when his father had gotten so cruel.
“You will not speak of anybody I care about ever again,” Bennett said, his voice shaking. “I have told you what I am going to do, and that I will take care of things as I have. Just not to the extent you wish. I will be living my own life from now on.”
“And I hope it is a damned one.”
Bennett set his jaw, refusing to respond to his father’s childish taunts.
He strode out of the office without a backward look. He should have had it out with his father long before this, but he was constrained by what he thought his mother deserved. But now that she’d told him how she felt, and what she wanted for him, he no longer had to worry.
Unless Ida said no.
“He’s over there,” Pearl said, pointing.
Ida stood at the entrance to the ballroom, anxiety knotting her stomach. Not because she was unwilling to face her own disgrace, but because for once she couldn’t analyze what was happening.
“You look lovely,” Pearl said, touching Ida’s waist.
Ida smiled at her sister, knowing that that was the truth. She’d figured she was already ruined, she might as well be ruined in clothing that pleased her. So she’d borrowed a red gown from her sister Eleanor, the red of a literal scarlet woman. The irony of it made Ida smile.
Pearl’s skill with a needle—often taken advantage of by their sister Eleanor—helped in adjusting the gown to Ida’s figure.
The gown dipped lower than most debutantes’ gowns were normally cut, and Ida would have been more conscious of more of her bosom showing, but that concern ranked far behind having her mother scream at her in public, her father turning his back on her, and the man she loved being on the other side of the room.
If she were to make a list in order of crisis, it would be:
“I wondered you were here this evening.” Ida turned at the voice, which belonged to a young lady, whose bitter expression made it clear she was a Carson-hunter.
“I am not sure we have been introduced,” Ida said, lifting her chin.
“I am not certain we should be,” the lady replied, looking Ida up and down.
Pearl looked from one to the other, her mouth open.
Ida shrugged. “Then we are at an impasse,” she said, taking Pearl’s arm as she began to walk away.
“No, wait,” the lady said. “I am Lady Frances Mayweather. I am acquainted with Lord Carson.”
“I presumed you were,” Ida replied. “So now we know who we both are, perhaps we should agree never to meet again.”
She heard Pearl’s sharp inhale.
Lady Frances’s eyes narrowed. “You do know that if he marries you, it is only because he is an honorable, responsible gentleman.”
Ida snorted. “If your argument to persuade me not to marry him is to tell me he is both honorable and responsible, then I think you should reread Sophocles.”
Lady Frances’s expression got puzzled.
“You don’t deserve him,” Lady Frances said.
Pearl tugged on Ida’s sleeve. “We should go get some punch. I am very thirsty.”
Ida shook Pearl’s hand off, stepping close to Lady Frances. “Again, if you are trying to persuade me not to marry him because I do not deserve him, you do not make a compelling argument. I know I do not deserve him. But that doesn’t mean I don’t love him.”
Lady Frances inhaled, her mouth pinched.
Ida hadn’t planned on saying that, but of course she never planned on saying anything. Good work, Ida. You’ve just told this loathsome debutante you love him before you told him.
“Now I’m not just wondering why you are here, but why anybody allows you to appear in public,” Lady Frances said, glancing over Ida’s head to where, presumably, other members of Society were wondering the same thing.
Ida took a deep breath. She had a few choices. One was to nod and smile—albeit a pained smile—at Lady Frances.
Well, she knew she wasn’t going to take that option.
She could glare at Lady Frances and stalk somewhere else.
Only, of course, other people would likely give her the cut direct, and she’d end up behind the pillar again.
She was damned tired of hiding behind the pillar.
The third option, the option she knew she was going to take, was a risk. But it was a risk she needed to take.
“Pardon me, ladies and gentlemen,” she began in a carrying tone.
She felt the whirl of skirts and the pointed glances as the people in the room either looked at her or tried to ignore her.
“I have returned after a trip.” A scandalous intake of breath. “A mission, more accurately.”
Whispered bits of conversation washed over her, all of which seemed to be saying, “She is entirely and openly scandalous.”
Well, she couldn’t argue with them. But she was tired of having to feel guilty for it.
She continued. Recognizing that she might be permanently shunned for what she’d done—what she might say—but not able to care. Not as long as she had her sisters’ good approval. “I have been gracing these ballrooms for close to a year now. Since my older sister Eleanor got married.”
More whispers. Since Eleanor and Alexander’s marriage was nearly as scandalous.
“And in that time,” she said, turning to look at a few people in the room, most of whom averted their gaze, “I have learned a few things. Things I would like to share with you.”
She suppressed a grin as she heard some people in the crowd utter audible groans. Because of course they recalled other times she’d launched into lectures that had gone on for an interminable time, containing information only she found fascinating.
They should go hide behind pillars and see what their conversational skills were like after that experience. And then come speak to her.
“Knowledge and learning are not always highly valued for ladies. It is better that we spend our time doing embroidery, or doing good works, or learning how to dance.”
A rustle in the crowd as some of them recalled that the duke’s daughters’ dancing master ran away with Della.
Perhaps she should not have brought up that last point.
“But what I want to share with you, what I learned on my recent journey, is that all knowledge is useful.”
An obvious point, but one she was fairly certain young ladies generally did not acknowledge.
“For example, on this trip I learned how to listen.” She paused so they could all absorb what she’d said. “I learned how to share my thoughts and feelings. I learned”—and then she hesitated, because she wasn’t certain how to put it into words—“I learned that there is always more to learn.”
Redundant, yes, but true nonetheless. Truly true, if she were being particularly redundant.
“So while some of you might not want to know me after what I’ve done, and been through, you don’t know all the facts. I think learning and asking questions and finding things out is far better than judging someone for who they appear to be, and what you think they might have done.”
Silence in the ballroom. Even the duchess was struck dumb—a minor miracle Ida would have to remember for the future.
“I have learned not to judge for myself. Not to foreclose on someone who might appear only to be the sum of his responsibilities. People, all people, have myriad depths and nuances to them.” Except for, perhaps, Lady Frances. Ida would have to learn a lot more about that lady before she judged her favorably. “A responsibility might feel like a burden, but it is a burden some people gladly take on. If it’s done for the greater good.”
She felt something at her side, and realized it was Pearl, who was taking her fingers in a firm grasp. Giving her encouragement, as she and her other sisters always had.
Even though Ida hadn’t always recognized it.
“Thank you for listening.”
She stopped speaking, and waited for the response. Pearl withdrew her hand and began to clap; a few other young ladies did as well, despite their parents’ scandalized looks.
It was enough. It was, perhaps, her final public speech, and there was no better way to cement her reputation as someone with a firm opinion than tell people precisely what she thought.
“That was very good,” Pearl said in a whisper. “Much better than some of your other talks.”
“That is faint praise, sister,” Ida said in a wry voice, “but I’ll take it.”
“Ida?” Pearl said. “Over there?” And she pointed to where Bennett stood staring at her. She had lost him in the crowd; perhaps he had been hiding behind a pillar himself.
Even though he was Charming Lord Carson, the most persuasive man in the House of Lords. The one who could likely convince her mother to stop talking.
Ida felt as though her heart stopped, even though she knew that it wasn’t scientifically possible for a heart to stop.
And then he started to walk toward her as Pearl firmly removed Lady Frances from the scene and stepped away herself.
“Good evening, Lady Ida.”
The man she loved was directly in front of her.
“Good evening, my lord,” she replied.
His eyes traveled down and then up again, an appreciative gleam in his eye. “You look gorgeous. You chose this for yourself, hedgehog?”
His using the nickname in that tone made her heat from the inside.
“I enjoyed your speech. It was remarkable.”
Her breath caught.
“If I may?” he said, gesturing toward the dance floor.
He wanted her to come this evening—so they could partner in a dance?
She placed her hand in his and he leaned in close to speak into her ear. His breath tickled her skin. “You told me you do not dance, and I told you that you would enjoy dancing with me. Do you remember?”
When she’d explained about Della’s Mr. Baxter.
The words were right there on the tip of her tongue—but I do not dance—but that was the Ida who didn’t compromise. Who was Ida the Implacable.
Not that she was now Ida the Malleable, but she was more . . . accommodating. And it was him, and she trusted him. So she would dance after all.
Especially if it meant she’d be in the arms of the man she loved. Even though—but she wouldn’t ruin this present moment with thinking what may or may not happen in the future.
“Of course,” she said, taking the hand he offered.
The crowd hushed as they took the floor, either because they thought they were watching a scandal in the making or watching a respectably betrothed couple share a dance.
She herself couldn’t wait to find out which one it would be.
He took her in his arms, and she closed her eyes, swallowing against the joy and agony she felt at being in his arms again.
“You don’t have to,” she began.
“I want to,” he said at the same time.
They smiled at one another, and Ida’s cheeks heated at how he was looking at her. As though he—
“I don’t understand,” she blurted out.
“No, you don’t,” he said, then whirled her close to where the musicians played, holding his hand up.
The music ceased, and the other dancing couples came to confused stops all around them.
“What—?” she began.
He released her, stepping to the center of the floor.
“If you will pardon the interruption, ladies and gentlemen,” he began, and Ida bit her lip, hope winning the war against disappointment in her heart. Please, please, please.
“Listening to Lady Ida’s speech earlier this evening, I was struck by how seldom we actually ask for things we want. We ask for things we want or need to help others, we ask each other how we are, and if we think it will rain. But we don’t ask for us. That bravery, that honesty, is so rare to find, and I am not surprised to find it in Lady Ida. I wish to follow her lead, and ask for something for myself this evening.”
He looked so beautiful standing there, lit golden by the candlelight. So confident and proud.
“Most of you know that I am a responsible person. So responsible, in fact, that I wasn’t able to court a lady myself, but asked my brother to do it because my responsibilities were so vast.”
A few people in the crowd chuckled, since they knew that his brother had ended up married to the lady in question—Ida’s sister Eleanor.
“Doing something unexpected is not anything anybody would expect of me,” he said, smiling as though to acknowledge the redundancy. “But I have done not one, but several unexpected things.”
He turned to face Ida.
“The most important of those things, however, is that I fell in love. Unexpectedly. With a woman who is fierce, brave, intelligent, and stubborn. A woman who is neither soft nor gentle, but is so much more than that. Loyal, independent, and unwilling to compromise.”
Oh. That was her.
“The thing is,” he said as he approached her, his expression focused entirely on her, “is that she shouldn’t have to compromise. Not now. Not ever. Except in one instance.” He smiled, and it felt as though her heart were going to burst through her chest.
Even though, again, that was a scientific impossibility.
He turned back to face the crowd again. “I have spent so much of my life doing things for other people. I was reminded recently that it is time I do something for myself. And so I am not going to deny what I want. What I need.
“Who I love.”
He turned toward her, his expression softer. And then just before he reached her, he got down on one knee and looked up at her.
“Ida, I won’t ask you to marry me.”
“You won’t?” Ida heard Pearl squawk, and she heard herself snort.
Of course she did.
Bennett shook his head. “Not until I tell her everything I am going to do for her. For us.” He took her hand in his. “I promise I will always listen to you and argue, if necessary. I promise I will always love you, no matter how prickly you might get.” She felt the beginnings of a smile curl her lips. “I promise to challenge you every day, even though I understand I might be wrong. I promise to put us first and not let anything or anyone distract me from my one goal.”
“Which is?” she whispered.
“To love you for the rest of my life, hedgehog,” he replied. “Ida, I will ask you now. I want you to partner with me. To dare you to speak your mind and follow your heart. Will you marry me?” As he asked that final question, he put his hand in his pocket and withdrew a box, opening it to reveal a single, brilliant diamond set boldly on a simple silver band.
She nodded, unable to speak for perhaps only the fifth or so time in her life. Likely not even able to make a speech about how diamonds came into existence, or the process by which they were removed from the ground.
He stood, slipping the ring on her finger and dropping the box in his pocket before gesturing to the musicians.
The music began again, and he took her in his arms and started to dance, his eyes smiling down at her. Her knowing she likely looked like an idiot grinning back at him, but unable to stop.
“I dare, Ida. Do you?”
“I do.”
Do you dare, Ida?
She’d come home with him, his prickly hedgehog, because of course she had. Her reputation was shredded anyway.
He’d brought her up to his bedroom after dismissing the servants, choosing to remove her cloak himself.
They nearly didn’t make it upstairs, he was kissing her so ferociously. Not that she seemed to mind.
He opened the door to his room, and she stepped inside, her quick gaze taking in the surroundings—the enormous bed, the books scattered on the desk and on the carpet, the pictures of him and Alex done when they were young.
Only Alex and his valet had ever seen his room before. It was his place to be just him, just Bennett, and he wanted to share all of it with her.
He drew her into his arms and looked down at her. “I’ll ask again, only more quietly, since it’s just the two of us. Do you dare, Ida?”
She slid her hands up under his coat and began to scratch his back, as she knew he liked. “I dare. As do you. You know who I am, Bennett. You see me as I am, much better than even my own relatives.” She leaned up into him, pressing her mouth softly on his. “I dare.”
Bennett slid his arms around her waist, drawing her tight against him. “Show me,” he said in a voice ragged with longing. With love. “Show me how you dare.”
She gave a sly smile, then tightened her hold about his neck. “Only if you dare to show me as well. Things like what you truly want and need.”
You, only you.
“I will,” he promised.
“Good. Then let me dare,” she replied, unclasping her hands and bringing them to the back of her gown, arching her breasts forward into his body as she did.
She wasn’t thinking anymore. She was feeling.
And it felt wonderful.
She twisted her fingers at the back of her gown, beginning to undo the buttons, then uttered a snort of frustration as she reached the limit of what she could do for herself.
“Do you need some assistance, hedgehog?” he asked. “Turn around.” The last bit was said as though he were ordering her to obey, not something she was accustomed to hearing.
But coming from him, there was something thrilling about being told what to do. What else might he demand?
She did as he’d demanded, turning so her back was to him. She drew one foot up and slipped it onto the back of her shoe so she could slide one shoe off, then the other, wobbling on her feet as she did so.
He was busily undoing her buttons, and she leaned over to slide her stockings off, which resulted in her pushing her arse into his front.
She heard an indrawn breath, and smiled down at the floor at his response.
“God, Ida, you don’t know what you’re making me think of.”
She straightened, but kept her back to him, beginning to slide her gown off her shoulders. “I dare you to tell me later.” She wiggled against him as she slid her gown down her body to pool on the floor.
She didn’t like what she wore most of the time, but this time she could say was the absolute happiest she had ever been to remove her clothing. Even though the red gown was the prettiest thing she had ever worn.
She was in her shift, and the freedom from all the constrictive clothing made her feel glorious. Also because she was anticipating how he would react at seeing her less clothed.
“Ida,” he said in a warning tone as she pushed back against him. She felt him, thick and hard against her, and her breathing got faster at the thought. Of him thrusting into her, of him bringing her to that edge of excitement.
Of her doing the same to him.
She turned then as she placed her hand just there, right on his cock. He leaned his head back, his gorgeous muscular neck showing the strain of what he was feeling.
She clasped him through the fabric of his trousers and got on tiptoes to lick his neck on the side where the pulse throbbed.
He groaned, and she smiled, lifting her right hand to the placket of his trousers, beginning to undo the fall.
He brought his fingers to his shirt and she shook her head, moving her lips down to the top of his cravat. “I want to do that. Let me do it for you, Bennett. Let me.”
She knew, because he’d shared it with her, that people seldom did things for Bennett. Did they ever do things for him?
He did things for other people, asking for nothing in return. So this moment, where she could do something for him, meant she could show him best how she felt—that he was worth doing things for, that she wanted to do things for him. And to him.
With that in mind, she shoved his trousers over his hips, pulling them down as she lowered herself onto the floor.
His cock was right there by her face, thrusting out from his smallclothes, and she pushed his smallclothes down too so he was naked from the knees up.
An awkward vision if she weren’t so enthralled by the sight of his cock, pulsing and hard. She wrapped her fingers around it and brought it to her lips, giving the top a tentative lick.
“God, Ida,” he said in a strangled tone. He clutched the edge of his desk in either hand.
She moved her hand up and down and placed her mouth more firmly around him, licking the top as though it were an ice.
But he was hot and hard in her mouth, and this was far more delicious than even the most delicious of ices.
She slid her fingers down his shaft as she took more of him in her mouth, almost choking from it. But even that felt good; the feeling that she was filled with him, that she was focusing entirely on him, on Bennett, on the man she loved.
“Ida,” he groaned, cupping the side of her face, sliding his fingers into her hair. It began to spill out of her coiffure, and it felt as though every part of her was spilling over—filled to the maximum with the emotion of it, of this moment when she was showing him, not telling him, how she felt.
Mere words, even though they were words, things she’d heretofore thought were the most powerful weapon, wouldn’t suffice now.
And then he yanked her up and claimed her mouth savagely, ruthlessly, making her knees buckle and her whole body tingle, aware of where every single part of him touched every single part of her.
But those parts weren’t enough.
“I want you inside me, Bennett,” she demanded as she broke their kiss. His eyes were wild, burning with what she knew was desire. She must look equally disheveled; her hair undone, her mouth bruised from his kiss, dressed only in her shift.
“How do you want me? Tell me. There’s this way”—and he picked up one leg and drew it around his waist, his cock bobbing into her stomach—“although that might be awkward after a bit. There’s this way”—and he twisted nimbly, shoving everything on the desk to the ground and laying her across its surface—“or there’s this”—and he brought her back so she stood again, but facing the desk, placing his hand on her neck and pushing her down so she lay flat on the table, her feet on the ground. “How do you want it, Ida?”
The desk was hard against her cheek, her breasts were flattened on the surface, her hands pressed on either side of her head.
She felt at his mercy. She felt in total control.
“This way, please,” she said, wiggling her hips.
“Fuck, Ida,” he said, and he caressed her arse with his hand, sliding lower to cup her there between her legs, right where she throbbed and pulsed.
“You’re so ready,” he said, and she felt his cock nudge at her entrance, his hands spreading her wide, and she raised up on her tiptoes to make it easier for him to thrust into her.
“Aaaahh,” he said as she felt him push inside, filling her with a pleasant ache. He ran his palm over her arse again, then put his fingers on her hip and held on as he withdrew and slammed back into her again, so hard she skidded up the desk.
“Too much?” he asked, his tone concerned through the ragged lust. So caring, even when he was inside her and wild with passion.
“No,” she said, shaking her head. “More.”
He grunted, and withdrew and thrust in again, one hand on her hip, the other holding her neck so she didn’t move too far away.
She pushed back to meet him, and it seemed that was something he liked, since he made some more inarticulate noises and pushed harder, and faster, until he stayed inside and she could feel him pulse, and a spreading warmth was inside her.
He pushed in and out a few more times, his hold on her lessening, and she smiled into the surface of the desk.
Sometimes you will get bruises, but they will be worth it.
Lady Ida’s Tips for the Adventurous Lady Traveler
She was sprawled flat on the desk, his desk, her hair a tangle, her shift hiked up above her waist, her face turned so he could see her expression.
She had a satisfied smile on her face, as though she knew how she’d wrecked him, destroyed his emotions just by submitting to him.
The first time, they’d started out making love, him conscious of her inexperience and that he needed to be gentle.
Now, however, they were fucking, and he didn’t feel as though he needed to take care of her—she could take care of herself, thank you very much, and have a good time doing it.
Although—“You didn’t come,” he said as he withdrew from her.
“No,” she said, pushing herself up on her hands so she could stand.
She turned to face him as her shift fell down her body.
“Well, since you have shown me how you feel, how about I show you? After all, you are a strong proponent of equality, are you not?”
She smiled, one of those heartbreakingly pure and honest smiles he’d longed for as long as he’d known her, and his heart melted all over again.
Dear god, but he loved her. And desired her, and admired her, and wanted to spend the rest of his life with her.
He was beyond besotted. Obsessi Bennettum.
“Yes, that would be educational. Possibly even pleasant,” she said with a wicked look on her face.
“Pleasant is what you call it?” he said, placing his hands on her shoulders and seating her on the desk. Her legs dangled, and he stepped between them, putting his hands on her knees. “Keep these open for me, and then you can tell me how pleasant you find it.” He used his shirt to wipe her clean.
He lowered himself to the floor, positioning himself so his face was right there, right at her entrance.
“Dear God, you’re lovely,” he said, before leaning in to lick her, the warmth and smell of her making him never want to move away.
“Ohh,” she exclaimed, her legs closing instinctively. He put his palms on either thigh and held her open, settling himself in to feast on her.
“Is this pleasant, Ida?” he murmured between licks, loving how she was quivering under his touch.
“You know it is,” she replied in her most condescending Ida tone.
He chuckled before blowing on her, then licking her more intently, paying attention to how she reacted, changing his approach to best bring her pleasure. He curled one finger inside her and felt her jump as he touched that spot that would bring her even more pleasure.
She moaned above him, and he felt her start to shake.
Good. Pleasant.
And then he closed his mouth over her nub, licking in the same rhythm, feeling her shudder and pulse on his tongue.
“Ahhh,” she cried as she climaxed, and he slowed his movements, breathing in her scent, stroking her skin as she continued to pulse.
At last, she was done, and he rose, stepping between her legs again as he had before.
“Was that pleasant?” he asked in a conversational tone.
She swatted him on the shoulder. “You’re ridiculous.”
He nodded. “Yes, but only with you. Only for you.”