The day had been a great success. Sir David's Pan had won the dancing contest easily, and his black had finished second in the race. He held a celebration dinner in a tent he had erected at the edge of the green, and the food and drink had been lavish and varied. Robert noticed that his friend and employer seemed more at ease than in many years. He was like he had been before Robert went up to court, and many people remarked that Sir David and his wife were behaving like young lovers. Robert knew that Sir David had worked long and hard over Pan's training, and he attributed the man's light-hearted mood to the animal's flawless performance. He was quite right, of course, but not exactly in the way he thought.
Robert was still with Sir Cassen's party when John and Belinda left. They pushed their way through the crowd, Captain Fothering's size coming much to their aid. They climbed the steps to the dance floor and stood watching for a moment. An excellent orchestra had been provided-lutinests, fiddlers, and even a virginal. Bonfires glowed brightly all over the green where the peasants and commoners were holding their revels and the dancing pavilion itself was strung with many lanterns. These lanterns and shutters of tinted mica and the effect was soft and romantic.
As the orchestra led off the next dance, John took Belinda into his arms and they moved out onto the floor. John had done a certain amount of dancing in his youth, and since, but he was a good deal more comfortable on the deck of a ship than he was on a dance floor. Anyway, it was lonely. Belinda was so much shorter than when they were in the embrace of the dance he was forced to peer over her head. It was most disconcerting.
He had made some arrangements earlier that occupied his mind far more than the dancing.
The music stopped and, still circling her waist with his arm, John guided Belinda to the steps that led down from the platform. Snuggling within his arm, she looked up at him inquisitively.
“Where are we going?”
“Into my boudoir,” he grinned. “It isn't exactly lavish, but it is private.” His hand fell lower on her hip, the long fingers stroking her firm belly. Thank God it was warm. He had no intention of making love through five yards of ruffled silk and three petticoats. He wanted this beautiful little body free; wanted to feel the full length of her naked and wriggling beneath him.
“Quick. Under the platform. I'll join you in a moment.”
He held up the bunting, and Belinda asked no further questions. She bent quickly and slipped under. There was enough room to stand, and enough light came in under the bunting skirt for her to make out a sort of couch. She walked over to it and found that it was a thick mound of stuff bunting and soft silk, laid out in the form of a bed, nearly eight feet long and almost as wide. A basket beside this impromptu mattress contained two bottles of fine wine and a cooked chicken. Belinda lay down, smiling in anticipation. He must have sneaked these things in during the afternoon, but it could have been no easy task. How he had managed to do it without being detected was beyond her. What a change this man was from the limp clots she met at Whitehall. When it came to the more practical side of an affair, their ingenuity stopped before it began. Unless it were simply a case of sneaking into an empty bedroom and locking the door, she had to make all the arrangements herself.
She lay waiting for John to appear, wondering what was keeping him. It was a bit eerie, laying there in the flickering half-light, listening to the dancing feet overhead and watching the silhouette of the passing crowd reflected against the bunting.
As she thought of the Captains long, hard body, his strong hands and huge, heavy rod, she felt the moisture of desire begin to collect between her thighs. She remembered the feel of that great organ in her mouth and hands, and her breath quickened as she thought of the joys to be had from that source. She wanted it deep in her body, stretching her, hurting her, driving her mad with passion. Damn! Why didn't he hurry.
It is one thing for a tiny woman to slip quickly and unnoticed under a platform five and a half feet from the ground. It is quite another for the same feat to be accomplished by a man a foot taller than that. What Belinda didn't know was that John, himself, had not been under the platform at all. He had hired three urchins to furnish his bridal suite on his instructions, and had only peeked inside to see that all had been properly prepared.
He stood now, trying to figure out the best way to navigate. There were a lot more people around then he had expected, and after a couple of abortive attempts at subtlety, he decided that he must either stand there all night or simply pull up the stuff and crawl under. This he did, but one long leg caught in the bunting and he was catapulted full length onto the ground, cursing and swearing. It was hardly the entrance he had planned.
“God be damned to all the seven hells! My boot's caught in this whoreson cloth.”
Belinda slipped across to where he was lying and quickly unwound his foot, setting him free. She was laughing so hard that she almost fell over herself.
“That's better. God damn it.” John sat up and looked around. His scowl changed to a delighted, boyish grin. “I see the lads did well. Not exactly palatial, but we've got all the comforts.”
He crawled over to the broad couch, Belinda behind him, still giggling. He lay down and pulled her down beside him.
“Laugh, you little baggage. Is it my fault that God cursed me with such lengthy limbs? We'll see how you laugh when you feel the length of something else.”
He pulled her closer and his mouth, hot, demanding, came down hard on hers. Belinda felt her passion quickly returning as Forthering's tongue pushed deep into her mouth. She sucked it hungrily. His hands moved over her, kneading her flesh through the silk of her clothes. She reached down and felt the hard, throbbing bulge in his trousers and with a hand shaking from desire, she pulled at the lacing in his pants. The pulsing organ burst out like a wild beast just freed from a cage and she closed her fingers around it. God, how she wanted him!
John rolled away. He knew that it would take very little playing before those soft fingers pumped the hot juice out of his loins and that was not what he had in mind. When he spent his seed it would be high up that tight, wet cunt, known to his fingers, but not, as yet, penetrated by his burning cock.
“Lindy, take those damn clothes off. I want you against me-all of you.”
Belinda stood up quickly, reluctant to leave that thrusting organ and anxious, so very anxious, to get back to it. She pulled her garments from her, watching as John struggled out of his clothes. It was difficult for him in the confined space, and his haste made him even more awkward. By the time he had everything off and turned back to his “bed” Belinda was laying upon it, naked, her arms and legs spread wide in abandon.
He knelt beside her, his mast proud and erect.
His hand cupped the full breast and his mouth was drawn down to the blushing nipple like a moth to a candle flame. She arched her back high as he suckled her, alternating from one breast to the other until both nipples were stiff and pointed. She tried to reach his penis with her hand, but he kept well out of her way. Event he feel of her fingers teasing and stroking the skin on his back sent spasms through his body. He pulled her onto her side and drew her left leg up over his hip. He could wait no longer. There would be plenty of time later to do all the other things he wanted, but he must have her now.
Although she was ready for him, her vagina went and slippery with the lubrication of her need, Belinda groaned as he forced his way into her. The great nob pushed into her sheath, and she arched against him as he thrust forward, driving deep into her burning belly. She could feel him ramming against her cervix, and she ground her nails into his buttocks, pulling him even closer to her. It was so good. God, it was so good!
“Fill me. Oh, John, fill me with your cream.” She bucked frantically, her body pressing forward to meet each pounding stroke. Faster and faster they worked, as John felt the hot tidal wave rise higher and higher. Belinda's head went back and a sound, half scream, half moan, escaped from her throat as her body jerked and stiffened in the ecstasy of climax. Still John pounded into her, holding her tight by the hips. Higher and higher the great wave rose, till, at last, it burst in a mountain of foam on the welcoming shore of her soaking hole.
It was nearly dawn when they crawled out of their hiding place. It had been a night of almost uninterrupted love. Once in a while they had lain, exhausted for the moment, and listened to the revelry around them. It was like being invisible and they laughed together at the thought of someone peeking down through the floor boards at them. At times the dancers made such a pounding that John prayed that the platform had been built strong. It would be a hell of a way to die, flattened by two hundred silly, drunken courtiers.
Somehow, they managed the ride back to the inn and sneaked in to their respective chambers undetected.
Undetected? Well, we won't count Robert, grinning at them behind his closed door as they crept, not so quietly as they thought, along the corridor. After all, had he not just seen his own lady friend along this same corridor, sneaking back to husband or father or wherever she had come from? It had been a hard night all around. But a good one.