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But all that was lost as he plunged into her so far she felt his tight balls against her folds.
    Jane cried out in delight and relief. Finally, finally. He filled her absolutely, thrust into her mindlessly. All games were over and done. There was no control, no finesse. Her legs wrapped around his hips, pulling him tight. Her heels dug into his thighs. Jane distantly heard herself calling his name, urging him on, but in truth, she was intent only on the sensations of their fucking; of his cock in her sheath, of his thighs working between hers, his balls rubbing, pressing, grinding against her folds as he strained to reach deeper. She was weeping for the pleasure as she fought to clasp him inside her, hold him still at the point of his deepest thrust where the pleasure burned brightest.
    “Come for me, Jane!” he roared. “Come now!”
    “Ah!” Pleasure’s burning waves engulfed her. Her hips bucked, utterly beyond her control. She wanted no control, no end to this moment. She was drowned, lost, and he was crying out again, thrusting faster and harder, and he was coming too, coming hard, calling her name as his release merged into hers, rolling them both deep into a tide of pure joy.

Seven

    J ane scarcely knew how she got back to her own room. Thomas bundled her into her nightdress and robe with so many teasing caresses that she begged for him to take her, just once more. He’d silenced her with a firm kiss.
    “Soon, Jane.” His mouth brushed her ear, imparting flashes of desire with each whispered word. “You will have me again soon.”
    With the heat of that promise singing in her veins, Jane stumbled through the sleeping house and to her own room. She cast her night robe over the back of a chair and crawled beneath the blankets. Her skin and hair were as damp as if she’d lain in the dew. She shivered from the early morning chill, but much more from what she had just done. She knew she needed to think about her actions. There were important considerations beyond the pleasure they had brought her. She had much to plan, and to decide, but she couldn’t. She could only burrow under her covers and sleep.

    “L ady Jane? It’s nine o’clock, madame.”
    Jane sat up, pushing wayward strands of hair out of her eyes and blinking hard. Tilly was opening the curtains to let the rain-washed sunlight sweep into the room.
    Memories of Sir Thomas and of their wicked tryst flooded back to Jane. She remembered the passion and delight and all the wanton abandonment she’d experienced under his hands, but try as she might, she couldn’t remember exactly where she had been, or how she had gotten from that other room to this.
    It was a dream. Jane frowned. It must have been just another dream.
    “It’s a glorious morning, madame,” announced Tilly as she picked up Jane’s night robe and shook it out. “Cleared up a treat after all that rain. It’ll be cold though. Perhaps the green muslin for today?”
    “Green, yes,” Jane murmured. The room had been hung with green. Thomas had worn a green coat. But it wasn’t possible she’d met Sir Thomas here in Kensington House, much less done . . . all those things with a man in the flesh.
    “Very good, madame.” Tilly folded the robe across her arm. As she did, a scrap of black cloth fell out of the pocket and drifted to the floor. Jane reached for it reflexively, and a sudden dizziness washed over. It was a black ribbon. The black ribbon. The one she had removed from Sir Thomas’s hair while she undressed him. Before she took his cock into her mouth at his command and sucked on it so hungrily.
    It was real. Jane’s hand closed around the ribbon. It is real.
    “Where’d that come from?” Tilly frowned. “I’m sorry, madame. I thought the girl had tidied up in here.”
    “It’s of no importance, Tilly.” Jane said, forcing her gaze away from the ribbon. “The green muslin will do very nicely, thank you. I’ll need my cream shawl as well, since you say it is