Forbidden Fruit's Challenge

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A second secret encounter.
1.3k words
3.5
10.1k
3

Part 2 of the 2 part series

Updated 09/22/2022
Created 01/17/2015
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She eyed the parcel questioningly, before raising one 'brow up as she accepted it. She had very little choice not to do so; such was the manner in which he held it out before allowing himself in through the door. It was not his usual manner of entrance by any means, but she presumed that he would not have done so if he had thought that there was even the slightest chance of being seen. His lips quirked up slightly into a shadow of a crooked smile as she considered it as though it might have held live, fuse-lit powder within.

"It really is not going to harm you, you know." She frowned faintly then, and some of her discomfort was readily seen in the subtle nuances of her body language. But she set it down on top of the table, pushing aside a scroll that she had been pondering over before retrieving a knife - more like a rather too-sharp letter opener - from within one of the drawers nearby. She undid it with a swift efficiency that spoke of some unnatural skill with a blade. Unnatural at least by the standards of society that she was supposed to act within. He leant against the back rim of the high chairs as he watched her, while casually removing his frockcoat and placing it atop the pin on the nearby wall for such a purpose. The box was undone at last, and she then blinked at what was inside.

The shoes were delicate, finely-embroidered things all in black, with the finest coiling flowers and vines visible in marginally lighter threads. The heel was perhaps two inches, enough to raise her height but not so much as to cause her gait to be uneven or the angle at which her foot was put, uncomfortable. The surprise lingered for a moment more before, after a sidelong glance that was part-appreciative and part-disapproving, she moved to put them on. He, naturally, took the chance to regard what was wearing. An uncommonly dark burgundy day-dress, a morning garment often worn in the privacy of one's own home. As much as she would not ordinarily entertain guests in such attire, he was no regular guest, nor she the class of woman that he called on formally during the day. One of the lower orders, by birth even if not by known occupation. The marks from their last liaison had faded thankfully, although he still kept the cravat secured high without comment.

No sooner had she gotten the shoes on and secured, did he decide to turn the tables. There had never been anything in the rules about not doing so, only that there existed one word that would cease everything. Fervently did he hope that he would not misgauge how she would react. His hand went for her slim throat, enough to put pressure there without any hurt or lasting mark, before he used both his height and body weight to his advantage. His hand then sharply moved up to stifle any outcry of protest, not that he reasoned much of one was coming. With his chest against her back, he used one hand to securely raise both of her wrists, easily snaring them within one of his hands. The other snaked down her fine-layered garment before tugging it up with a sense of viperish urgency, letting the material fall over his forearm again once his fingertips brushed the soft bare flesh of her thighs underneath the light muslin shift worn underneath.

When she shivered slightly in a way that was nothing to do with any manner of cold, his fingers then nimbly manoeuvred to slowly trace, tease and rub at her sensitive nether-regions. Instantly he felt her tense, at first in surprise, then after what could have felt like anything from seconds to tormenting hours depending on the relativity of the situation, was relaxing and squirming, but incapable of moving far enough away to escape the fingers that were then prying only knuckle-deep in, before moving away again the moment that she tried pressing down to take more of him within. Thoroughly moistened, he caught the quick, heady and instinctive scent of her arousal that only served to drive on his own.

Panting heavily, he then pressed forwards with his chest, thus using his weight alone to secure her still against the wall before his free hand went to his breeches. He silently thanked his personal taste in fashion that he had gone with laces that morning, and thus, they were easily tugged loose, even if a little slower than he still preferred. The knife however, was out of reach. With his eager and firmly vigilant cock freed, there was none of the teasing, tormenting slowness that she had done with him. Pulling up enough of her skirts, and using a brief stroking gesture with his hand to ensure that his path was true, he promptly thrust forwards, burying himself as deep as he could, near to the hilt, in one fluid motion.

His groan of pleasure was met with one of surprise and delight from her own throat, before on a moment's whim and perhaps out of the awareness that they were not in the crypt that she had so carefully prepared, he loosened his cravat. Fashion be damned then, for he moved it so then it was to serve as a gag. To his inward surprise - or at least, that he would note only after - she did not fight the gesture, and soon her moans of delight were muffled before he set to the tryst in earnest. Holding her against the wall with both the trunk of his body and his one arm, the other, then snaked around to caress, then more firmly squeeze one of her breasts.

Quivering in eager, muffled delight atop him, he then found that sharp, firm and deep motions were then aided all the more by the same trick she had used before; squeezing him with her muscles, coaxing and urging him on even as her face was turned sidelong, her expression obscured by her hair. Burying his head against her neck, he felt that familiar tension begin to build like a rising flood behind a dam considerably sooner than he would have preferred, but he was equally as unwilling to slow down. Thus, he tangled one hand into her hair, using it to pull back just slightly on her head, causing a whimper that was in no way one of pain. Thrice more came his thrusts, deep enough to feel the softness of her buttocks against his hips, before exploding with the force of what he felt was like a volley from a ship's broadside within her.

He only just managed to muffle his outcry, gritting his teeth together as a muscle in his jaw jumped erratically. He felt the satisfied heat radiating from her body as sweat beaded along his 'brow and across his chest underneath the shirt, and their shared fluids beginning to seep down her inner thighs, and down the spent shaft that was still buried defiantly within her, regardless of whether or not it was beginning to soften. Panting heavily, he finally removed the cravat from her mouth. At least the teeth marks and dampness would be gone form the fine material by the time he intended to leave.

"Now we are even," he murmured thickly into her hair, delighting for a moment in the way that she shivered at the proximity of his breath to her skin.

"...That is not how this works." He only smirked, resting his head against her shoulder.

"Rules? Damn them. If I am going to be dead for the class that I am, I am going to thoroughly ensure that every last moment I can get, is a good one."

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rsilkrsilkabout 9 years ago
Another great story!

Your second story with these lovers is marvelous.

Very erotic, very enjoyable!!

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Forbidden Fruit Previous Part

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