One Moment — Clarice Clique

“Elizabeth, Elizabeth.”

 His breath was hot on her neck, but she was not entirely lost. Above the heavy beating of her heart she could hear the sound of laughter and music as the merriment spilled out of the grand hall and into the gardens. Would any of them have noticed that both Rochester and her were absent yet? It was a masquerade ball, but it would take only one person to identify the two masks that were missing. The scandal would be unbearable.

“Elizabeth. Elizabeth.”

“I’m married,” she said, as she always said.

“As am I,” he replied.

He hadn’t always replied that, she’d said dreadful prayers that her husband would be removed from this life and that with him gone the sin would be removed from her passion. She could be an honest woman, but it was too late for that now.

She didn’t notice the night breeze on her bare shoulders, all she felt was the heat of his breath on her bosom. She was conscious of the rise and fall of her breasts as they moved so close to his lips and then fell away again. Why didn’t he grab her and ravage her? It would be so much simpler if he took the choice away from her. She sweated through night after night dreaming of his hands on her body, in her body, but alone with him in the real world her mind did not have the freedom it had in her dreams. They teetered on the edge of something impossible. But in truth hadn’t that something impossible already happened?

Three long years ago another ball, both of them searching for a moments quiet and going to the same empty corridor and then together finding that empty room. It made no sense, her husband was loving and considerate but the second Rochester had looked at her she’d seen something and she’d wanted it. Taken by surprise at her appearance when he was expecting to be alone, the polite veneer was lost and he looked at her with a rawness she’d never known before. She felt naked and vulnerable before him, it was a feeling that made her cheeks redden even as all her life blood rushed between her legs.

In the room they didn’t speak; a single word could have broken the spell. His hands all over her body, her clothes between them, yet her skin on fire every place he touched. Then his naked sex was before her, strutting proud into the air that separated them. Her legs refused to hold her weight, she sunk back on the chair behind her. All the many times she thought back over it she could not recall him undressing, she could not recall his hands not being on her body. She knew it must have been her own hands that pulled away the clothes that concealed that secret part of him but she could not remember doing it, all she could conclude was that she had caught a brain fever that night and had been suffering with it ever since. That would explain the shameful and shocking thing she did next.

She stared at his hardness and then she raised her hand and brought it down hard across the middle of it. The thwack filled the room. She looked up into his eyes, his enlarged pupils made them appear black. She didn’t stop looking at him as she brought her other hand down hard across his sex. Again and again she spanked his cock and it remained hard and proud beneath the red marks of her assault. His hands stopped touching her, he clenched and unclenched his fists. She spied a drop of his seed creeping out of the top of his sex and swooped down on it with her tongue, lapping it into her mouth as she returned to her former position. She looked up into his face, his lips were parted and he was softly moaning. She raised her right foot, he held onto her ankle and licked her shoe then he removed it and let it drop to the floor. They stared into each other eyes as she raised her left foot and he did exactly the same thing. She gazed down at her shoes and then back at her feet. She knew her feet were dainty and worthy of admiration but her for the first time it struck her, the real  purpose of having such delicate feet.

She put her white stockinged feet on either side of his hardness. She curled her toes around him and then squeezed hard, his moans grew louder and he clenched his fists so tightly his nails drew blood. She moved her feet up and down his length feeling with not just her feet, but with every nerve in her body how large and thick his sex was. She herself began to pant as her feet pleasured him. He throbbed beneath her, a loud moan escaped from his lips and his seed escaped from his cock. His seed covered her face and hair, she looked around her and saw evidence of their lust on her dress, on her shoe that lay on the floor, even on the wall. She smiled up at him and he smiled down at her. He gently caressed her cheek and then brought his hand to his own lips and licked his seed off it. Elizabeth laughed and he laughed with her.

Their liaison had not been found out by the gossips then and nor had any of their liaisons since, but every meeting increased rather than decreased the risk, a fact Elizabeth knew too well. She’d told Rochester several times that the moment had ended and they had to stop, she told him again now.

“If we must part let us be like husband and wife one time,” Rochester whispered. He breathed his hot breath into her ear, brushing his lips against her ear lobes.

She had never let him penetrate her, a strange concession to her honor when she knew the things that she did with him were far worse than the kind of love making she had with her poor husband. Her rebellious mind filled with visions of what it would be like if her lover penetrated her; the roughness and the pain that made her scream out with pleasure.

“You may taste me, Sir,” she said.

He disappeared under her skirt and his hot breath was where it should be, warming her sex. His tongue dipped into her and Elizabeth smiled. She smiled because her lover’s head was between her legs. She smiled because she knew the thing between them would never end but she would never let him penetrate her. They would spend the rest of their lives finding endless ways of teasing each other. Fallen ladies had to find their heavens on Earth and as his teeth nipped at her secret bud she was certain she had found hers. She knew with all her soul she would trade eternity for one moment with her lover.

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In her fantasy life Clarice Clique likes whore-red lipstick, leather boots, corsets and demanding doms. In her real life she goes for walks in the country, bakes lemon crunch cakes and plays scrabble. Clarice Clique has published one novel, Hot Summer Days, with Pink Flamingo Press.

http://www.amazon.co.uk/Hot-Summer-Days/dp/B003F2QOJ6/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&m=A3TVV12T0I6NSM&qid=1291116540&sr=1-1

You can read her most recent story in ‘The Bad Girl’s Sweet Kiss’ found here: http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B0049H963C or http://www.xcitebooks.com/category-208/9781908006639.html