Blackthorne Manor

Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

September 1882

She had to meet with James, go over the household accounts with Betty, and double-check security with Takoda. There was the afternoon with Mrs. Fairfax and a quick trip to Market Street. There were those rumors of an Englishman asking uncomfortable questions and no doubt on his way to Philadelphia.

"Morgana."

And then there was David.

She accepted his kiss, arching her body against his as he entered her. His hand was too hot and sweaty as it gripped her hip.

Morgana moaned, and clenched her inner muscles around his cock. It made him come faster and she needed him finished. She kept her eyes closed and hoped he thought of it as delirious delight rather than a fervent wish to be somewhere else.

Seeing David wouldn't make this any more enjoyable--she needed her own fantasies to do that. His clumsy hand gripped her breast, kneading it roughly. She didn't mind it rough, but he wasn't doing it right. Her own fingers drifted to her nub, nail scratching over it. If left to David, she'd never come.

He pounded into her with little grace but much enthusiasm, and she felt the beginnings of her orgasm shudder through her. Through blind luck or some latent memory, he managed to hit her just right.

It hadn't always been like this between them. In the year they'd been sleeping together, it was only within the last couple of months that David made love to her with such clumsy barbarism.

Or maybe it was her, she mused as the pleasure from her own fingers crept up her spine.

"Ah!" she cried, lost in her orgasm for several moments.

She didn't call his name; she never did. Doing so would've required more concentration than orgasming allowed. Even the ones she had with David Helston.

Waiting rather impatiently for him to finish, Morgana continued her mental list of things to do once they were done. Oh, God, she hoped he didn't want to spend the morning in bed. She was entirely too busy for that.

And completely uninterested.

His teeth clamped down on her shoulder, causing her to wince. What the devil? She sighed and wrapped her legs around his hips. Why bite her shoulder? Why not her neck? Or--heaven forbid--her breasts? Her nipples ached with his lack of attention and her body was still wound up from her unsatisfying orgasm.

Her life was never easy.

"Morgana!" he cried as she felt his seed shoot into her body.

Luckily, the only consequence from their actions would be her bringing herself off later. One of the few things that survived the Blackthornes' trip from their beloved Scotland and persecution in the mid-1700s was the herbs used to prevent pregnancy. Her wise ancestors wouldn't forget something that important.

Morgana was not about to have David's child. Even if she could have children.

He moved off her with a satisfied groan, flopping on the bed next to her. Good, only the once today, then.

Once with him. While her own fingers were barely enough to please her, certainly not as good as a cock moving within her, even David's, a widow had to do what a widow had to do. Still, she had to admit, David's cock was deliciously thick. Shame he didn't know how to use it. She found herself bringing herself to pleasure, alone, more and more often.

Taking her cue, she rose up on an elbow and kissed him softly. His mouth opened under hers and he kissed her back between pants. With Robert, her husband, Morgana never had this problem. When they'd made love, it was different. Sweeter, better, caring.

Then again, she'd loved him.

David was a means to an end. Okay, two means to an end, though she was pretty sure masturbating was a far better way to climax than letting him fumble with her body. And since she doubted she was going to go blind after all this time, it seemed the best choice given her options.

Except she needed David.

Even as she broke the kiss, she calculated her next move on the chessboard upon which he unknowingly played. Her hand drifted to his soft cock and she let a slow smile play across her lips.

Bastard. He really thought he held the upper hand. This was her game, and as queen, she was the strongest piece on the board. Underestimating her was foolhardy. David was worse than that. He was arrogant and foolish. A dangerous combination.

"I have to go," she sighed as his hand drifted up her thigh. "I've neglected my own household for too long. They know I'm in today and have already made me promise to meet with them."

David nodded, but his hand didn't stop its upward path.

Oh, for a tingle, a hint of moisture, a tease of desire.

Nothing.

With another sigh she knew he'd take for reluctance, Morgana rose and hurriedly pulled on her dressing gown. She didn't ring for a servant to help David dress, but held out his shirt herself. She hoped he'd take the unspoken hint to leave before the sun fully rose and people ventured out for the day. She held sway with a good many of the neighborhood elders, but there only needed to be one.

She waited while he pulled on his trousers and waistcoat, smoothed the cuffs, and turned in the mirror. For God's sake, he was only going a few blocks. Keeping her face neutral, Morgana waited while he slipped on his socks and shoes and took one last look in the mirror.

Coming up behind him, she slipped her hands around his waist and turned him to face her. She kissed him one last time, letting the moment drag on until she was sure it conveyed her unwillingness to let him go rather than her inability to stand his touch any longer.

Leading him down the hallway and to the back door, she smiled up at him. Opening the servants' entrance, she stepped with him onto the stoop. Her fingers fluttered over his cheek and she kissed him quickly.

"I'll see you this afternoon for the ritual, don't forget."

Without waiting for his agreement--he had no choice anyway--she closed the door. She heard his grunt of frustration and his heavy tread on the flagstones.

With luck, she had enough time for an orgasm before beginning her daily meetings.