You settle back into your seat with a contented sigh, smiling down at the large hand intertwined with yours. At last, you are Mrs. Brandon. No more longing glances as he reads sweet words of poetry while his honey like baritone melts you to the core. No longer is it improper for you to sit so closely, with not so much as a centimeter between the two of you. The whole situation seems surreal to you. Just two years ago, you were sitting among the guests of the his first wedding.
You had noted how handsome he had been that day as he stood before the alter beaming as Marianne Dashwood stepped into the aisle and began making her way toward him. You had to bite back a envious thought then. How lucky Marianne was, you had thought, that she was marrying a man like Colonel Brandon. You smiled, nonetheless, and internally scolded yourself for thinking such things about a man on the day of his wedding. It had dumbfounded you when the woman stopped mid step, eyes wide as saucers as she shot Brandon an apologetic look. Then as quickly as her two feet would carry her, Marianne fled.
Eventually the rumors circulating around the scandal died down. It was around that time that your father had once again brought up the topic of marriage. He and your mother had brought up a few different suitors and left you to ponder that day. The last person you expected to bump into was Colonel Brandon himself.
"Hello," you had stammered pathetically, your gaze connecting with his as your cheeks warmed under his gaze.
"Good morning, Miss L/N," his deep voice had rumbled. All too quickly, your mothers voice broke the otherwise silence. You composed yourself quickly, clearing your throat awkwardly as you stepped back into the foyer and out of the Colonel's way. His eyes met yours once more as your mother lead him past you, a slight arch in his brow as he regarded you quizzically.
Oh, God. He probably thinks I'm a bloody fool, standing there gaping at him like a fish out of water, you thought to yourself. It had been your first interaction with the man you had fancied for years, and you had managed to mess it up instantly. Your mother placed a hand on your shoulder, pulling you from your dazed state, and you found that she, too, noticed your flustered behavior.
Time had passed, but the Colonel's visits never ceased. Though, aside from a friendly conversation now and again, he seemed to only be focused on the business at hand with your father .Which was why you couldn't have been more surprised when the man himself knocked on the door and invited you take stroll along the property. You were barely out of ear shot of your mother when he had finally brought up the reason for his visit.
"Your father has spoken to me about finding you a suitable husband," he said slowly, as if he was reluctant to even say it. "It seems he believes I am a good match."
"He wants you to-," you began, surprise evident in your voice, but Brandon held his hand up to stop you.
"You're a beautiful young woman, one who I am sure will have many equally as young suitors lining up at your door," Brandon said, "I do not wish to pressure you into any arrangement of the sort-"
"I would like that, actually," you interjected. Brandon stopped in his tracks, his gaze suspicious. It was clear he hadn't expected you to answer so eagerly, and you blushed at the realization of how forward you had been. "I mean, unless you do not wish to."
"You.. wish to marry me?" The doubt was evident in his tone, and you gave him the best reassuring smile you could muster in your nervous state.
"If you don't mind me speaking plainly, Colonel, Marianne Dashwood was a fool," you began, not missing how his shoulders tensed at the mention of his previous fiancé. You spoke with an air of confidence you certainly did not feel, "You are a fine man, and I would be honored to be your wife."
And so the Colonel began courting you, and with each of his visits, the two of you had grown closer and by the time the day of your wedding arrived, you had already fallen hopelessly in love with the man.
You pull yourself from your thoughts of the past, more than happy to focus on the present as you turn your attention to your husband. He's gazing off through the opposite window of the carriage, the hint smile on his handsome face as he watches the rain pelt down outside. The ride this far has been surprisingly smooth, albeit you were beginning to think you would never arrive at your destination.
"Yes?" the Colonel speaks, breaking the comfortable silence between the two of you as he turns his attention solely to you with a teasing smile.
"I was simply admiring how dashing you look, Christopher," you answer with a smile, his first name still foreign on your lips as you tested it out.
There is a flash of uncertainty in his eyes, but as quickly as it appears it is gone, replaced with a warm smile as he gives your hand a gentle squeeze. "Actually," you begin, a coy smile forming on your lips as you shift to face him fully, "I was hoping it wouldn't be too forward of me to request a kiss."
"You may have as many kisses as you desire,Mrs. Brandon," he chuckles, reaching forward to caress your cheek as he leans in to grant your wish. The kiss starts off gentle, slowly. His thumb traces lightly along your jawline, leaving a burst of tingles beneath your skin in its wake. You deepen the kiss, eliciting a sound of surprised approval from your husband.
The sound that escapes your throat is so wanton and needy as his lips press stronger into yours that you blush crimson. Despite your embarrassment though, you surprise your husband by placing both hands on his chest and pushing his back against the seat as you climb into his lap, hiking up your dress so that it pools around your thighs.
The colonel looks almost astonished for a moment, and you briefly wonder if he is disappointed. He is after all, a proper man, a gentleman who is probably expecting a proper wife. And here you are climbing into his lap like a common whore. Perhaps you overstepped, perhaps- but your internal panic is cut short as his hands cup both your cheeks and he leans forward to capture your lips with his own. He kisses you with a fervor that you hadn't known could exist in a man so collected. You return his enthusiasm, shifting with impatience as you feel his hardening arousal beneath you. You flex your hips experimentally, gasping as your clothed core rubs against his.
Brandon growls in response, planting his hands on your hips and using them to assist you as you continue to move your body against his. He shallows each whine of pleasure that escapes you, not as oblivious to the driver sitting just outside the closed carriage.
He's the first to break away from the kiss, breathless. A look of reluctance passes over his features as he uses his grip on your hips to hold you firmly into place. "Though I am overjoyed with your enthusiasm, surely a carriage is not the place you wish to consummate our marriage," the baritone of his voice was deeper, husky and dripping with desire as his gaze slid along the length of your throat and down to where your breasts heaved, threatening to spill from your corset with each heavy breath you took.
"I- uh, I apologize. This was most- most improper of me," the words spill from your mouth in a frantic jumble. "I didn't mean-"
Your apology is cut short, however, as Brandon leans forward to kiss you tenderly, the softness of it doing nothing to quell the tsunami of arousal burning inside of you. You shift slightly against him, desperate for any sort of friction to quell the aching heat there.
"I've wanted this for so long," you admit, voice almost a whisper as your lips brush against his with each word. "I know that it's quite inappropriate of me to have thought of you in such a manner before we were even married, but I've been quite impatient for some time now."
Your two older sisters have been married for some time now. Your eldest sister, Claudette, has always been very private about matters of her bedroom activities with her husband. Your other sister, Olivia had pulled you aside after your mother had spoken with you about what to expect when it came time to consummate your marriage. "Mother covered the basics," Olivia had whispered as she steered you away. "But allow me to further educate you," she said with a sly grin.
And she had most certainly educated you. At the time you had blushed at lewd things she described and recommended you do to really please your husband. "Men like their women docile in public, little sister, but the bedroom is another story," she told you. Later, though, as you laid in bed your thoughts drifted to the Colonel, you allowed yourself to imagine doing the things Olivia had described with him. It opened a desire inside of you that you didn't know existed. It was a desire that continued to grow each passing day, with each word of poetry he read you, each longing glance shared between the two of you.
Brandon looks as flustered as you feel. He brings a hand to your mouth brushing his thumb across your parted lips. "You certainly never cease to surprise me, Mrs. Brandon," he says with one more passing look of conflict before seemingly making up his mind, as his hand is now traveling further up your body, not stopping until his fingers skim the curve of your breast.
Your heart is pounding. Sure, you possess some knowledge now of what to do, but you've never been touched like this. Never felt the steel hard erection of a man between your legs, pressing against your center as you begin to once more flex your hips, seeking that delicious friction you had just discovered moments ago.
Something akin to a growl escapes your husbands lips as his free hand tangles into your hair and he dives in to place a searing kiss against your lips, tongue working against yours, the sensation of it strange but not unwelcome. His lips then descend to your jaw and descending down further. You squeak as his lips land on an area of your neck you had never known to be so sensitive before. He gives the area more attention than the previous ones as he takes his free hand and skims it along your exposed thigh, pulling back to meet your gaze, as if asking for permission.
You nod, encouraging him to explore further, your body tensing as the rough pads of his fingertips travel up the soft skin of you inner thigh. You gasp as those fingers brush along your cunt over your underclothes, blushing as you realize he can now feel that your wetness has seeped through the fabric.
"Please," you whimper. You're thrown off guard as his hands once again find your hips and he guides you back onto the seat.
A thick wave of disappointment threatens to course through you, but the sight of him sliding out of his seat and onto his knees before you eliminates it immediately. Despite his height and the limited room of the carriage floor, he moves gracefully as he slides both hands beneath your dress. He hooks his fingers around the waistband of your underclothes You instinctively raise your hips to assist him, and he pulls them down your legs.
There was quite obviously some things others had not prepared you for, you realized as Brandon dropped the fabric into a heap on the floor and tugged you further toward the edge of the seat, pushing your the skirt of your dress up to your hips. You moan as his lips place a kiss along the slit of your center.
"Quiet now, darling wife," he murmurs fondly as his fingers land on either side of the outer lips of your cunt and spreads them open slowly. You blush fiercely as his eyes settle there, drinking in the sight for only a few seconds more until his face disappears from your sight, now replaced with the view of only his hair as flattens his tongue against you and licks a broad stripe from your dripping entrance and up along the rest of you. You nearly screech as his tongue passes over the small nub of nerves that leaves you squirming beneath his ministrations.
"C-Christopher," you stutter as his places his attention on that exact spot. His tongue moves against you sinfully, eliciting gasps and groans from your lips as you thread your fingers into his hair. There's a pressure beginning to build in your abdomen, and with each passing swipe of the appendage it grows stronger. Brandon hoists your thighs up and guides them to rest on his shoulders, giving him better access to for lack of a better word, feast upon you. He groans into your cunt and surprises you when he slides a finger inside of you. The feeling is foreign yet euphoric as his finger works you open, soon followed by a second that stretches your walls to accommodate it. You're a mess, sweating and whimpering and legs quivering as the pressure increases, coiling impossibly tighter as his fingers begin to scissor inside of you.
Your hips begin to buck in response. You can't think, your breaths coming out in short rapid gasps. The world is melting away. There's a rushing in your ears, and somewhere in the back of your mind you note that you're probably grasping his hair too tightly, that you aren't being quiet enough, but the coil in you finally snaps and there's nothing but bliss as you ride out waves of pleasure that seem to consume the world around you. Brandon works your body through the ecstasy, his fingers and tongue working against you at a more leisurely pace as his name falls from your lips in a chant until you come down from your high. You open your eyes to find his gaze burning into yours.
You stare back at him. "I- That was..," your breathless, unable to find the correct words to describe how you feel. Brandon shifts, as if uncomfortable. Your eyes travel down the length of his body as he moves to resume his place beside you, and you blush as you realize how aroused pleasuring you has left him. His erection is straining against the fabric of his trousers so tightly that you were certain it must be painful.
He takes his previous seat beside you, leaning over to push a loose strand of hair beneath your ear. You take the opportunity to place your hand on his thigh. He freezes, body tensing as you graze your fingernails up his clothed thigh, hand trembling as you reach the tent formed in his pants. You cup your hand over it experimentally, rubbing slowly as your eyes flick up to gauge your husbsnds reaction.
He hisses at the contact, and you nearly stop in fear that you have hurt him somehow. You quickly realize, however, as his head falls back against the seat, that he is enjoying it. It encourages you to explore futher, but he places a hand over yours as you begin to work his pants open. He gives you a gentle smile, despite the hungry look in his eyes.
"You don't have to do that. It can wait until we arrive-"
"I want you," you say, cutting him off. "Now. I do not wish to wait a moment longer."
Brandon growls, a sound that shoots a pang of desire straight to your cunt, as you once again straddle him and clumsily make work of removing the barrier between the two of you. He pulls you into a hungry kiss, as he nudges your hands away and unbuttons his pants himself, hips flexing upwards as he works the material down his thighs, allowing his erection to spring free from its confines, large and weeping.
You gape at it, eyes drinking in every detail, wondering how something so big will fit inside of you, remembering the tight fit of his fingers inside of you only moments ago. You do not allow it to quell your excitement, though, as Brandon's hands wrap around each side of your waist and pulls your aching center against himself, exclamations of pleasure falling from both your parted lips as you grind your wet cunt against him.
Brandon takes his cock into his hand and aligns it to your entrance. His eyes still seek permission, and you answer by sinking yourself down onto him. You had been warned that your first time would be painful, and though there is a burn as his cock stretches your walls to accommodate it, a sting as the head of it breaks past your maidenhood, the sensation is not entirely unpleasant. You're both panting now, Brandon watching you through hooded eyes, teeth clenched together as if he's doing everything in his power to keep control.
Pride blossoms inside you at the sight, the knowledge that you could make a man like the Colonel fall apart gives you the courage to sink the rest of the way down. He gives a shallow thrust, allowing you to get used to the feeling until you nod in encouragement. He grasps your hips once more, using them as leverage to show you how to move, pulling and pushing you up and down his cock. His hold on you is nearly painful, but the sensation isn't unwelcome.
"I won't break," you assure him, and that seems to do the trick. What little is left of his self control seems seems to dissolve away. He's thrusting up into you, harder and sharper than before, and though he still holds your hips, you've began to match his pace.
"Fuck," Brandon hisses, his gentlemanly demeanor clearly crumbling in the wake of his pleasure. To your surprise, his unreserved language only excites you further. "You're so beautiful," he praises, but you can hardly register the compliment in your haze. You're surprised by how vocal he is as a lover. You hadn't expected the filthy grunts and groans he releases, but they please you all the same.
"Christopher," you moan as the pressure you felt when he used his mouth on you begins to build once again. You're walls clench around him in anticipation, and his thrusts falter slightly. Brandon slows his pace, and before you can object, he slides his hand between your thighs, furiously rubbing the sensitive nub there as his thrusts build back up to their former speed.
"Oh- I-," you stutter as your your body creeps closer to the edge. You're nearly there, so close you can almost taste it. Your lips find his, this kiss all tongues and teeth and passion as oblivion finally consumes you. You cry out, cunt spasming around his cock as white hot bliss takes over your senses. Brandon's mouth on yours swallows the unbridled moans that spill from your throat. Your last orgasm doesn't hold a candle to this. You're skin feels like it's on fire, as if tiny hot bolts of electricity dance across your skin and straight to where the two of you are connected.
Brandon's hand continues to rub you as he bucks wildly up into you. His movements are sloppy, no longer working one particular rhythm. His eyes flit between back and forth between your face and your breasts that bounce with each of his unrelenting thrusts until he too finds his release, emptying into with a strangled moan. You regard him breathlessly, taking in the messy state of his hair and the sweat beading at his brow.
His is softening inside you as the evidence of both your releases drips between the two of you. He kisses you again, though more leisurely now. "I love you," you murmur against his lips.
"And I most certainly love you," he replies with a smile of his own. Finally, with shaky limbs you rise off lap, his now soft cock sliding out of you. He grasps your waist to steady you as you take your previous place.
After adjusting his clothing, Brandon retrieves his handkerchief and raises up your dress once more, this time using the soft cloth to wipe away the mess at your center and down your thighs. Your mother warned you there would be some blood afterwards, and your cheeks burn in embarrassment at the thought of him finding it. He says nothing, though, and folds the cloth closed as he finishes.
"How much longer until we get there?" You ask.
"Within the hour," he answers as he places the soiled handkerchief to the side. "You must be exhausted. I can have you a bath drawn once-"
"You will be joining me, won't you?"
Brandon huffs out a laugh, "Who am I to decline such a request," he chuckles, placing an arm around your shoulders and pulling you in closer. You close your eyes, resting your head against his chest, smiling as you imagine what discoveries the rest of your wedding night will hold.