London, 1806
“I’ll have you yet, little one.” Beau had sneaked up on the pretty young housemaid while she was making up one of the many guest rooms in the London terrace home. Now she stood across from him as he backed toward the door and turned the key in the lock. “I’m not leaving for university before I have a taste of those treasures under your dress.”
Joy frowned, but then giggled and tossed her copper curls. “A few stolen kisses are one thing, my lord. You may think I have no choice to resist you, but I shall.”
“Come here,” Beau said, as he sat down on the unmade bed.
“Absolutely not. You touch me and I shall scream.”
“Who would hear you, dove? I sent everyone else away this afternoon.”
“You sent an entire household of servants away? ’Tis not possible.”
“I’m the master’s son.” Beau winked at her. “My command makes anything possible.”
Joy smiled demurely. “You think you can command me?”
He grinned. “I know I can, little dove,” he said, “and I’ll have you begging for it by the end.”
Joy backed slowly away from the bed, into the alcove created by three windows. “I will never beg for anything.”
“We shall see about that.”
Beau crawled slowly across the bed and lunged at Joy. She ran toward the door of the chamber, but he was too quick for her. He grabbed her and whirled her around, throwing her on the bed.
“My lord,” she said, “not like this.”
“Like what?” he asked breathlessly, his black hair falling into his eyes as he looked down at her sweet innocent beauty, her full lips the color of rubies. He had to have her.
“You…you wouldn’t force me, would you?”
He smiled. “No, sweet dove, I won’t force you. That I promise.” He crushed his mouth down on hers and coaxed her lips open, yearning for a taste of her sweetness.
He had coveted Joy since she first came to the London house two years ago. Her coppery tresses and rich blue eyes enraptured him. A shy lad of sixteen at the time, Beau had worshiped her from afar and had only gained the courage to steal a kiss a mere three months ago. Joy had responded, so he stole another one, and then another. The newfound knowledge that he was attractive to women had led him to steal kisses from a couple of other young servants and a few girls in town, but none were quite so luscious as Joy and her honeyed lips. As they parted for him now, he knew he would have her before he left on the morrow. Damned if he would arrive at Oxford as an untried lad of eighteen.
He fumbled clumsily with her bodice, the weight of his body imprisoning her beneath him. She wriggled under him, trying to push him off of her, but to no avail. She was trapped, just the way he wanted her.
“My lord,” she said breathlessly, “you said you wouldn’t force me.”
“And I shan’t,” Beau gasped. “I won’t take you unless you beg me to. But that doesn’t mean I can’t have a taste of your delights.” He freed her young plump breasts from their restriction. Perfection.
“How lovely you are, little dove.” He clamped his mouth onto a tight nipple. He wanted to be gentle, really he did, but his passion overwhelmed him. He pulled at her roughly, squeezing and kneading her breasts, panting and puffing as she writhed under him.
“My lord! Oh!”
“Yes, yes,” Beau said. “Just a little. You’re so beautiful. Does that feel good?”
“Aye, my lord.” She panted against him. “So good.”
He glided his lips over her bosom. “I’ll make it good for you, dove.” He pressed tiny kisses over her milky skin and then returned to her nipples, licking them tenderly, until he felt her body relax beneath him. “Is that better?”
Joy didn’t answer. She moaned softly, and then inhaled sharply as he stroked her private parts.
“Such sweet wetness,” Beau whispered against her soft flesh. “Do you want me to fill the emptiness inside you?”
She sighed. “I want… But I’m afraid.”
“Don’t be, dove. Let me touch inside of you.” Beau entered her slowly with one finger. So sweet, so tight.
Soon she was writhing under his touch, wanting more, wanting him.
“Oh, my lord,” she moaned.
“Do you want me?” he asked huskily.
“Aye, my lord. I want you.” Joy arched her hips.
Beau added another finger, stretching her. “Are you begging me?”
“Aye. Yes. I want you. Please!”
Beau ripped the buttons from his trousers, sending them plunking across the wood floor. He freed his aching arousal and plunged it into her, taking her maidenhead with more force than he had intended. She screamed from the pain, but the pleasure he felt overpowered his concern for her.
“Oh,” he groaned. “Oh my God. Joy. Joy!” He shuddered as he climaxed, spilling himself into her, welcoming the release of his seed.
He collapsed onto the bed and rolled off of her, too exhausted to move.
Joy remained silent for several moments. Then, “My lord?”
He turned to look at her beautiful face flushed like a ripe raspberry. “Yes?”
“I… May I go now?”
“No, don’t go.” Beau took her delicate hand and lightly brushed his lips over it. “I’m sorry. I just couldn’t… It will be better for you the next time. I’ll make sure of it.”
She smiled. “Aye, I know, my lord.”
But a next time never came. When Beau came home from Oxford on holiday, Joy was gone.