All she could do was hope and pray that the girl she’d paid stayed out of sight. If she didn’t. Well, Scarlett didn’t know what she’d do. Die from embarrassment would certainly be an option if she was caught here.
She couldn’t dwell on that. Not tonight. She had to focus on why she was here.
There was no way to recreate that night. A night that to this point was the most amazing of her life. She hoped it wasn’t the only one like it.
She slipped out of her gown as quickly as she could. If Mammy could see her now. Scarlett knew full well what she’d say.
Or did she?
Would Mammy object to the scheme, as she’d call it, Scarlett had come up with to get Rhett back?
Nothing else had worked to this point and she was running out of ideas. His trips to Atlanta were becoming fewer and farther in between. And they weren’t lasting as long as they were at first either. She couldn’t wait until Atlanta was just a stopping point on the way to bigger and better things.
Scarlett wanted it to be his stopping point. His home.
She crawled into bed, staring at the ceiling above her, invisible in the dark as it was. She knew it was there, it was tangible and real. There. Proof that she was embarking on this scheme.
She started to breathe heavily, raggedly, questioning whether she could go through with this. Afraid of being rejected by Rhett in such a public way.
She was a fool, is what she was, she realized.
Too late, though, as she heard footsteps outside in the hallway stop in front of the door that led to the room she was currently in.
She swallowed, wondering what she would do if it wasn’t Rhett.
She hadn’t thought of that! Good heaven, it could be anyone. And they’d be expecting.
Why they’d want Scarlett to.
She started to wretch at the very idea of doing those things with anyone but Rhett. Until she heard his voice and that eased her panic some.
Did he know? Had that girl taken Scarlett’s money and run straight to Rhett, telling him all?
Scarlett would claw her eyes out if that was the case. No one crossed her.
Think of the man on the other side of the door.
Think of the goal.
Her breathing slowed, her heart no longer felt as if it was going to explode from her chest, and her skin was no longer so flushed from nerves.
It was Rhett, and no matter what he wouldn’t hurt her.
Not here. Not like this. He might poke fun and ridicule her, but he’d wait until later when she was home and they were alone.
The door opened and she rolled onto her side so he wouldn’t see her by the light from the hallway. The door closed not even a minute later and even though he made no noise she knew he was in the room. She felt him, his presence, just as she knew that first day she set eyes on him that he was looking at her. And only her.
She could picture him removing his hat. There was something near the door for him to set it on, she remembered. Not that she’d looked at the room too thoroughly. She wasn’t here to live and hoped she wouldn’t be here for very long.
Somehow thoughts of her mother invaded her mind, clouding her thoughts on just why she was doing this. Those thoughts prevented her from noticing Rhett coming to the bed.
His hand was so gentle when he touched her back, tracing her spine with a fingertip. Lower still his hand traveled, cupping her bottom through her silk chemise. She had to bite her lower lip to stop from crying foul. This was what she’d come here for.
He drew his hand a way and this time she did cry out, only it was in protest to him no longer touching her. His hands, rough from years of use, were no gentleman’s hands. She knew the touch of a gentleman, knew the difference. This man’s hands were the ones she wanted touching her.
She glanced at him cautiously, to find he’d turned his back to her as he began to undress. She slid out of the bed and walked up behind him, stilling his hands from their efforts and took over. She’d caught him by surprise, she could tell even though he wasn’t facing her. And she had to wonder when the last time was that anyone had undressed him. She’d certainly never done it.
She knew the front of him by heart. Every blemish, each scar were imprinted on her mind. His back, though, she’d never taken the time to look. To touch.
She did that tonight, though, thoroughly going over every inch of his back with her hands and her lips. His soft moans of delight told her she was doing something right. She reached the small of his back, nipping it gently before reaching around to work the fastenings on his trousers.
Fingertips traced the length of his powerful thighs and lower along his calves as she pushed his trousers down around his feet. He’d already removed his shoes, she realized so he could easily step out of them if he wanted. Evidently, he didn’t want to just yet.
Emboldened by his reaction to her touch she explored further, wondering why this part of him had never seemed appealing to her before now.
Higher again, along his thighs, she reached around to his front, cupping him with a hand as she stood and stroked his back with the other one. She stood on her tiptoes, pressing against him so she could kiss a spot under his back where his shoulder was. Hand sliding lower, she cupped his ass as the other hand fondled him, feeling him grow harder, jutting out further under her ministrations.
He started to say something, but she stopped him from saying something but sliding her hand lower between his legs, cupping his sac. She stroked him there, memorizing how he felt against her palm, how he reacted to her doing this.
She wanted to look at him, watch his face as she touched him but she was afraid he’d stop her. And come hell or high water she wanted to see this to completion.
A kiss to his hip as she slid around to in front of him, both hands stroking his inner thighs before taking hold of him again. She wished now she hadn’t turned out the lamps, wanting to see him. His hands went to her hair as she stroked his tip with her thumb. She kissed it then, the tip of his erection. His reaction didn’t surprise her. Hers, however, did, as a wave of arousal like she’d never experienced before flooded through her. She could feel the spot between her legs getting moist, ready for him to enter her and he hadn’t even touched her yet.
She took him further into his mouth, carefully so as not to choke or harm him in any way. Wordlessly, he directed her to stand, shifting her with ease so she was bent over the bed. Again, she bit back her words of protest as he slid inside of her with such a powerful stroke she couldn’t stop the moan from escaping her lips.
It was his turn to touch her, stopping as he cupped her bottom once again as his thrusts grew more frantic. One hand reached around her, touching her in a place that only Rhett had ever touched on her before. Only this time he was more diligent, no longer thrusting inside of her so powerfully.
“Finish with me,” he whispered, sounding very much like it mattered to him. She pushed against his hand, against him inside of her, taking him deeper as his finger stroked that part of her just right. It felt so good, she did it again. And again.
Until finally he no longer seemed to need her guidance, he took over bringing her so close to the edge and drawing her back at the last second. She whimpered softly in frustration, wanting it. Wanting the completion. Wanting to finish with him as he filled her with his seed.
It was almost agonizing, coming so close and having the pleasure she knew he could give her ripped away.
“Please,” she begged finally, no matter that it wasn’t lady-like to make such a request. Neither was being face down on a whore’s bed, letting your husband take you from behind and she was enjoying that, too.
That seemed to do the trick, he didn’t stop this time, stroking her to completion with him soon following. He muttered her name. Too late she realized he’d known it was her, probably from the moment he walked into the room.
He didn’t pull away immediately, instead stayed behind her, inside of her, touching her. Her body reacted to his touch, sensitive in places she didn’t understand the why of but he seemed to because he touched them so that it was pleasant.
Eventually, he pulled out of her and stepped away, though he didn’t go far. She couldn’t see him, but she could feel him there, hovering just behind her. Looking at her more than likely, and while she knew she should be embarrassed she felt no such thing.
“You have decent clothes here?” he asked?
Oh God, he was going to make her get dressed and leave?
“Y-Yes,” she stammered, moving to sit on the bed.
He drew up his trousers, stepping away. She assumed he would turn up the lamps again, but he did not. He returned a few minutes later and helped her dress.
“Is that it?” she asked, confused?
“Well, I was thinking our bed would be a better place to continue this. Or was this it? Something to prove to me that I want you only to shut me out again.”
“All right then, Mrs. Butler, I think our bed is a tad bit bigger and more comfortable for what I have in mind for you the rest of the night.”
She expected to blush and surely he expected her to offer up some sort of verbal protest to his assertions. Neither came. Instead, she stood, offering her his hand. She still wasn’t sure if her plan had worked, but he’d called it their home so that was something.
Story ©Susan Falk/APCKRFAN/PhantomRoses.com