Intro:
Set back in 1814 London
Let's take a trip back to the ancient times when girls wore chemise instead of bras and when sex was a high end scandal..
Let's read into the sex scandal of the season of a Known rogue and a proper lady...
Lady Margaret's P.O.V.
She shouldn’t allow it.
The man was a legendary scoundrel, a Known rogue and a legendary ruiner of young ladies. And he’d never once been punished for it, or caught even once. Only his names were always whispered in court and balls. Perhaps because he was so very good at it. It seemed a shame to punish someone for what was clearly a remarkable skill.
They say curiosity killed the cat and seems that's about to be her downfall. She shouldn’t allow it, she should tell him to stop. She should just Stop the way his fingers went through her hair, the way they played gently over her skin and the too-tight fabric of her dress, the way his lips pressed soft, lingering kisses along her neck as he made his wicked promises to show her the bits and pieces of love making.
He lifted his lips from where they played at the place where her neck met her shoulder and placed them at her ear, speaking, the words low and dark and full of wicked intent.
“Tell me.”He whispers to her
He sucked the lobe of her ear and made everything worse. Or better. She wasn’t sure. It was difficult to form a responsible thought with him being this close
“Tell you what?”I ask trembling from within
“What would you like me to show you?”
"Everything"She whispers
She swallowed, knowing instinctively that if she said no, he would stop and she did not wish to say no. She wished to feel all of him. If there was ever a time when she wanted something, it was now. She wants him so bad!
"Please.”I whisper..
She could hear the grin in his reply. “So submissive”He laughed and then his lips were on hers once more, and she was lost, the darkness making everything more illicit and somehow more dangerous. The night gave an excuse so no one would ever discover their action, The Duke of winterfell isn't for girls like Lady Margaret, they have their fun with girls in the brothels.
He was at her ear again, his fingers stroking at the edge of her bodice, where her breasts strained for release against the too-tight lacing. “What are you curious about?”
Her cheeks should have been flaming at the question, but the darkness made her bold. “All of it,” she said.
He laughed at the words. “No,” he said, moving his hand away, teasing her. “That’s not enough. Tell me, specifically.
“I don’t know,” she said, the words coming on a wave of frustration. “Touch me again.”
“Where?”
Everywhere.
“Lady Margaret don't act coy"He beckoned, like the devil at the door to hell.
She fought for thought. “A few years ago, I saw . . .” She trailed off, shocked by what she was about to tell him.
He stilled against her. “Don’t stop there, darling. What did you see?”He probs
“I stumbled upon a stable hand. And a maid.”She stammers
“Go on.”He Says
She shook her head.
“Where were you going?He whispers...
“Looking for a place to read."Lady Margaret says blushing
“It was raining, and cold. And my sisters were talking about boys and gossip. I needed space to enjoy my novels.
"What did you find there?” He kissed down her neck, long, lingering sucks that made it difficult to think.
“I saw the stable hand with the maid?” There was something in his tone that she’d never heard in a man’s voice before. Something breathless.
Like . . . excitement? The thought made her excited, as well. More excited. As though such a thing were possible.
“No,” she confessed. “They were in a stall together and you looked?” His tongue swirled at the crest of her shoulder.
“I didn’t mean to. I was only looking for a quiet place to read.”Margrate defends herself
“I do not judge you.” He grumbles busy licking the skin between her shoulder and dress, and she thought her breasts might break free of their bindings. “I simply want to imagine the full scenario. What did you see?”
“At first nothing,” she said. “I didn’t know they were there. If I had—”She says trailing off
“You never would have stayed. You’re too good a girl. The decent Lady Margaret won't stoop so low to easedropping on her stable hand ”He says in a mocking tone
"Am guessing once you heard them, you couldn’t stop yourself right?"He says...
“Good girls get curious,” she defended herself.
“What did you see, Lady Margaret?” His hand was moving now, over her thigh, toward her knee, the sound of it on the fabric of her skirts unsettling.
“I couldn’t see much at first. But then i saw them kissing"Immediately she said those words, the Duke of winterfell engulfed his lips with hers. Kissing her fiercely as his settled on hers, ravaging her and leaving her breathless...
"Like this?"He growls ...
She shook her head in the darkness. “No.”
“How, then?”
“You know how.”
“I wasn’t there,” he said, and the teasing in his tone made her even more aware of him. “Show me.”
God knew how she had the courage to do as she was told, but she did, running her hand up his arm, over his shoulder, to the back of his neck, pulling him to her. “Like this.” And then she kissed him, letting her tongue slide over his lips and into his mouth, where he tasted like wine, hoping that she was doing it right. He groaned and gathered her closer, careful of her shoulder, turning her so that her thighs draped over his lap, his hand finding the hem of her skirts and sliding to her ankle, the touch warm and wonderful.
She was doing it right.
After a moment, he broke the kiss. “Is that all you saw?”
No. “It became more . . .” She trailed off, hoping he would fill in the remaining details so that she did not have to. He did not tho.
The sound he made was best described as a growl. He kissed her quickly, his tongue stroking deep before releasing her and leaving her breathless.
"Continue with what you saw dear”He urges..
She suddenly let's herself become engulfed in the memory, “He opened her dress.”
“Finally we're getting to the good part,”He says with excitement..
The Duke moved to undressing her, the bodice of her dress loosened, the too-tight lacing coming easily undone, and her smooth supple breasts were free. She gasped welcoming the cool sensation of the breeze on her chest. His hands were around her hips for some unknown reason. She squirmed, aching for his touch.
"Please"she whispered.
The growl came again, softer, more breath than sound. “Then what did he do?”The duke asked again..
“He touched her.”
One finger found the curved underside of her breast, and it was so unexpected and so desired that she nearly leapt from her skin. He ran that single, remarkable finger in a long, slow circle around her breast, leaving fire and aching desire in its wake. “Here?”
“No.”
The circle became tighter. Closer to where she wanted him. Closer to where she’d only imagined anyone ever touching her in the dead of night, alone.
It was the dead of night, but she was no longer alone.
“Here?”
She shook her head. He might not have been able to see it, but he knew. The circle tightened, and she thought she might die from the wait. “Here?”
“No.”
He stopped moving. “Where? Show me.”
She barely believed it when she did as he asked, clasping his hand in hers and placing it where she wanted him. He immediately gave her what she asked for, stroking and plucking at the straining tip of her nipples until she sighed out in pleasure, pressing against him, aching for his mouth
“What did he do next?” The words sounded like carriage wheels on stone.
“He kissed her,” she whispered. “There.”
“Smart man,” he said, and set his lips to where his fingers were, sucking gently, as though he had an eternity to explore her, and perhaps he did. Perhaps she would let him explore her for as long as he wished.
But he did not remain gentle, soon running his teeth across the hardened nipple in a wicked caress that had her crying out and sliding her fingers into his hair to hold him there. But King did not give her what she wished, instead lifting his mouth at her touch and blowing cool air across her flushed skin before lavishing similar attention on her other breast.
It went on and on, back and forth, until she was straining for more of his touch, for more of his lovely mouth, for more of him. And he gave it to her, the hand at her ankle sliding farther beneath her skirts along the length of her leg, higher and higher, until it stilled, at the soft skin of her thigh, fingers stroking softly as he lifted his head and spoke in the sinful dark. “And what did you think of it?”
He kissed the soft skin of her neck in a long, lingering caress. “Did you wish it was you?”He asked
“Yes, Yes.”She whispers a little bit embarrassed by the memory.
“I wished I could feel it. I wished someone would worship me like that. I wished I could command that kind of attention, i wished i was her.”Lady Margaret says slowly..
He kissed her again, long and slow and deep. “This kind?”
She sighed. “Yes. And then he—”
In her silence, those fingers stroked and stroked, slow and deliberate, as though he had nothing more to do ever. She couldn’t tell him. Could she?
But it was dark, and they were cloaked in secrets anyway before she could think he lifted her skirts. His fingers stilled for barely any time. A tiny hiccup that she might not have noticed if she weren’t so busy noticing him. And suddenly, she felt very, very powerful. And the words broke free. The words she’d never imagined saying out loud. The memory she barely allowed herself to remember. “And then he got to his knees.”
His whispered curse came out part blasphemy, part benediction. “And what did he do?”
“I imagine you know,” she said, drunk on the way the moment consumed her.
“I know what I would like to do.”He murmurs to her in desire and then he was dropping her feet to the floor and lowering himself to his knees, and Margaret was grateful for the bleakness of the night and because she wasn’t certain she would ever be able to look at this man again. Cool air kissed her legs as he raised her skirts, folding them back onto her lap before pulling her to the edge of her seat and spreading her legs wide.
Her cheeks flamed; as he pulled at her chemise undergarment. Instinctly she tried to close her thighs, but he held her open. He pressed a kiss to the inside of her knee, and she jumped at the unexpected touch.
“Do you want me to continue?”He asks...
“I can smell you, and I want to desperately to taste you. To show you just what that stable hand did to that maid.” His fingers moved, and she stiffened as they touched her, barely, a whisper of him over the hair at the apex of her thighs. “You’re so warm. And I’m betting wet, as well. But I won’t do it until you tell me yes. Until you give me permission.”
"Yes, Yes."She whispers before he could even complete his sentence.
“I want you to make me scream like he made her scream,”Margaret whispered.
"I can do that luv, but you must stay quiet, love, lest we give the guests at the ball a show.” He inhaled, long and deep, and exhaled before he said.
Before the word gave way to silence, he was there, his fingers pressing, parting the folds where she wanted him most, exploring in delicious strokes and slides around her wet dripping cunt.
He groaned. “So wet,” he said as he then places his lips in between her folds, kissing and sucking the soft skin of her inner thighs.
He spread her wide and she closed her eyes at his touch, so sweet.
“Did you touch yourself while watching them?”The duke asks.
She shook her head, her hands searching for him. Finding his soft hair.
“No but i wanted to"She murmurs
He kissed her pussy lips with his mouth, consuming her like fire, his tongue stroking in long, slow licks, curling in a slick promise at the hard center of her pleasure, and she lifted her hips to meet his remarkable mouth, not caring that the action could be called nothing but wanton. She did want.
She needed.
And he gave without purchase. The fingers of one hand holding her wide as those of the other explored, pressing deep, curling, finding a spot that made her writhe without care for anything but him and his wonderful touch.
He fucked her pussy lips with his tongue and he did her bidding, his touch accompanied by a low, rumbling growl, she came closer and closer to the edge he had promised. Her sighs grew louder, and she cried out his name.
He stopped.
She sprang forward, sitting up straight in protest. “No!”
He pressed her back against the wall and whispered, “What did I say about you being quiet?” He lowered his head and kissed her gently, openmouthed, teasing. “You must be quiet, We mustn’t be heard.”
The words had a wicked impact, sending desire flooding through her. He was asking the impossible. “Should we stop?” she asked, hating the question.
“Dear God. No. We shouldn’t stop.”
Margaret gave a little sigh of relief that became a gasp when he kissed her again. “I quite desperately want you to scream." he said between idle, unbearable licks.
She stifled a cry at the words and his touch, stiffening. Clenching her fingers in his hair. “Please"
“Shhhh.” He spoke directly to her, the rush of air making her wild. “Be careful.” And then his fingers moved again, joining in her torture, sliding deep, stroking and curling again and again. “They might hear us.”
The words did nothing but excite her further, and it grew worse as he teased and tempted with his fingers, reminding her to be quiet in that wicked voice, all enjoyment, as though he knew he was slowly destroying her, making her want him more than she’d ever wanted anything in her twenty-one years.
He repeated the flick of his fingers in her center, his warm breath making her ache as his fingers worked against her. “He might hear you, your little cries, the way you call my name, like sin and sex in the darkness.”
She wasn’t sin and sex, though. He was.
But when he set his mouth to her pussy lips again she widened her thighs and lifted herself to him, proving him right. Biting back the cries that came again and again as he pressed more firmly, rubbed more deliberately, giving her everything she desired.
“Don’t stop,” she whispered.
He didn’t stop and continued. She fell into his tongue and lips and touch, taking everything he offered without hesitation. She rocked against him and then the tension released, in glorious, wicked sensation, and she forgot everything but him, his dark growls and his strong grip and his wonderful mouth.
When the pleasure crested, breaking over her, breaking her, it was he who held her together, letting her explore all the corners of pleasure without hesitation. Without embarrassment. Without shame.
Perhaps it was the darkness that kept the shame away. Because she should have been ashamed, shouldn’t she? Ladies did not behave in such a manner. But somehow, she did not feel ashamed, even as he lifted his mouth from her count, lifted his touch from her. Somehow, it was easy to be without shame with him.
Then she turned towards him and whispered "Let's go all the way"Lady Margaret whispers her eyes heavy with lust and pleasure