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346 pages, Mass Market Paperback
First published January 1, 2011
No lust was so gratifying to a man as the lust that blossomed only after esteem had taken root. He might have gone his whole life without finding this out, if he'd never been exiled to Sussex.The setting is Regency England, about 1815, in a rural neighborhood near Brighton by the Sea, in Sussex County. (The author did not capture the pastoral setting -- she's not particularly descriptive or vivid, but it's fine.)
To a stunned and star-struck Martha, he'd never looked so powerful. So capable. So suffused with grace and might.Theo finally got the passion he wanted from Martha. And wow! Once Martha knew Theo's heart, she gave herself totally to him, like a wild woman (the scene in the chair!). These guys burned up the sheets. ツ
"Untie me."What Martha loved best was that Theo valued her opinion, and sincerely cared about his people. One night, while brainstorming how to improve the local economy, Martha muses:
"No," she said, and bent to kiss him again.
He scrabbled at the knots. He'd free himself.
"No. This was your idea. You've no one to blame but yourself." She gazed down at him like a governess out of someone's perverse boyhood fantasies.
Good God. She was enjoying this..."You want me," he whispered.
"Yes," she said.
Serious, conscientious, and seeking her opinion: he could have had anything he wanted of her in that moment.What the playboy loved best about the puritan was that she believed him capable of ANYTHING and supported EVERY idea he had. Late at night, Theo tentatively broaches the idea of gaining investors for his dairy scheme. Martha, being detail oriented, readily endorses his preliminary idea and offers several strategic tips. Theo -- no dummy -- realizes her worth:
He could go through life forging one nebulous idea after the next, and know that she would hammer each one into practical shape.I thought it perfect, this relationship that began so badly. They complemented each other. Martha's prudent attention to detail only magnified Theo's natural aptitude for visionary leadership. Theo's gift for gab brought VISITORS into Martha's lonely life -- so now Theo totally walks on water in her eyes ツ. He showed her that she was respected, admired, and surrounded by allies.
Oh, for God’s sake. He was a disgrace to whoredom. To stud-animaldom as well. What bull ever felt a moment of concern for whether the cow actually desired him? Quickly he moved into position. Put a hand down to brace himself. Filled his lungs again. And with one mighty push, he was in. Mere mechanics would take care of the rest. Enough times in and out would get him there. Her tight grip on him—had he ever been so exquisitely sheathed?—might get him there even sooner.
She ought to touch him, though. Her right arm lay slack on the mattress; her left bent to keep that fist at her shoulder. “Can you put your hands on me?” he said in a hoarse whisper. Hark at him, asking politely when the occasion called for command.
His chest met her back—gently—and he draped an arm over her rib cage to keep her there. His knee pushed—slowly—between her knees. His hand grasped her thigh, lifting it up and back to rest atop his leg. His cock brushed against her, lingering on the threshold of where she opened to him, and—quiet as snowfall—slipped in.
"What are you doing?" Awake and alert in an instant. "You did this already, last night."
He cursed softly. "Can't you just sleep through it?"
"Sleep through it? Are you mad?"
‘If one believed, as the Bible and the Greek myths had it, that man had been created first and woman after, then one must conclude there had been some dramatic improvement in the process following that amateurish first attempt.
Where she was molded, he was rough-hewn. Where her form curved with logic and precision, not to mention breeding parts tucked neatly away, he looked rangy, haphazard, his male parts an ill-placed afterthought. Like the last leftover bits of clay scraped together, rolled into primitive forms and stuck onto the middle of him, the stones in their rough red sack and that improbable appendage dangling to the fore.’
"Please" she choked out. "Please don't hold my wrists"
As he heard the note of fear in her voice, his face changed. He released her arms at once.
"Let me look at you."
Her fingers tightened their grip on her covering. Her wary eyes narrowed. "Is this...will it be...useful in...preparing you?"
"Useful. Yes. Helpful. too."
"Let me do this." His thumb was relentless. "Let me. Though it may sound like a supplication, that's actually a command."
"You are not in any position to command me." [...]
"On the contrary, I would say I'm in exactly that position." He smiled, so sure of his victory, and finally she had the grounds for resistance she'd needed.
"No. Stop. I want you to stop."
"Let me be your whore if I want to be."
Let me. "You mean that as a command, I suppose."
"Always. Use me, Martha."