Page 5 of How to Lose a Dowry in Three Bucks (A Few Good Bucks #3)
The meeting of the Grand Bucks was not proceeding as Matthew had envisioned it.
“What do you mean, there’s no lady planning to join us tonight ?” asked Matt, his cock hard and expression no doubt angry as he took in the quiet townhouse where the Grand Bucks met to wear stag masks and share willing women.
“The Rutlord usually handles communication with interested parties, but he’s resigned, of course, and took off for Shropshire with his wife before he could hand over the society’s records,” said Stagshade.
“I’ll handle communication from now on,” said the High Rutlord, who was glancing towards the area where musicians usually played.
Tonight, the Forest headquarters of the Grand Bucks was silent. It was an unwelcome turn of events for Matthew, who had restrained himself today simply because he knew he’d be able to enjoy the Bucks’ latest conquest.
“I suppose we could hire a lady of the town to join us if you’re so intent on bucking, Thorncock,” said Stagshade to Matthew.
He bristled. The constant reminders of his enormous cock bothered him; it wasn’t the first such nickname he’d received.
In another lifetime, he hoped to be a decidedly average gent who didn’t need to duck at every doorway or consider whether a brocade made his generous midsection seem too plush.
He longed, above all, for a penis in his next life that would be large enough to be enjoyable, yet not so large as to elicit tears, pleas for mercy, and, on one occasion, a swoon.
“Ehh,” said Matthew, uninterested in the experienced ladies at this point in his life.
The joy of the Grand Bucks came when putting an ordinary woman through the paces, making her extraordinary for one special night.
The untried wives of London made the most delicious noises when finally subjected to pleasure.
Almost as delectable as the sound of a virginal spinster stroking her cunt.
Now, where had that idea come from? he thought, alarmed at the sudden recollection of Miss Stafford petting her kitty.
“We could hold a business meeting,” said the High Buckthorn, gesturing to the lounge where fine spirits awaited them.
But Matthew was out the door. Why, he was having more erotic experiences at home in his own library than at the Forest. What an ignominious end for a venerable sex society!
Matthew had just made a promise to assist Miss Stafford, and he’d already left her to navigate a ball without him. He’d rectify that immediately.
***
By the time Matt had changed his clothes, the Gamaliel ball was well underway. It didn’t take long to locate Miss Stafford and her chaperone in an area that seemed populated with dowagers and the dregs of early womanhood. What on earth was Sophia Stafford doing in this dim corner?
But when he saw Sophia, her expression blank and chin angled towards her chest, he recalled she wasn’t here to find a husband; she needed to go through the motions just sufficiently enough to collect her dowry while not attracting unwanted attention.
Her gown tonight was horrible, a mixture of high neckline and shapeless bodice that made him want to rend the nasty dress between his hands. He should whisk her away now and free them both from this ghastly gathering. He felt the eyes of the mamas upon him; he too was a prize to be captured.
“Up you go,” he said, taking Sophia’s hand before she realized he was even at the ball.
She looked up at him, surprise painted across her face. And then she broke into the loveliest smile he’d seen this decade. His heart thundered within his waistcoat; he’d really need to see a doctor about that on the morrow. The doctor would give him tonics and pills galore.
Rising from the little chair, she asked, “Have you come to dance with me?”
And what could he say to that when she said it so hopefully? “Of course,” he replied, as if that had been the plan all along.
Matthew gallantly swept her to the ballroom floor, though he’d not done such a thing at society events in years. Somehow, it all seemed so natural the moment he took possession of her hand.
Miss Stafford froze, looking around the room. “They’ve noticed me,” she said, her eyes wide.
Matt continued to hold her hand, then drew her into position for their dance. “Do they not on every occasion?”
She regarded him with a raised eyebrow. “Of course not. You’ve seen my fashions,” she said.
He took her in from his considerable height, puzzling over how a room full of impoverished aristocrats had written off the greatest heiress of the age when she was so…
“Oh,” she said, her breaths coming faster.
His eyes darted around to see what had upset her, who had broken her peace. Then he realized it was, in fact, he who had pulled her closer than strictly proper.
“My apologies,” he said lowly, not bothering to release her.
“It is no matter,” she whispered.
“I shouldn’t have drawn attention to you.”
“Oh, that.”
Sophia licked her lips, and Matthew felt his cock thicken in his trousers. He should have taken Stagshade up on his offer of a night with a professional, if only to spare this innocent a heated glance that would have her on the first boat back to America.
The music continued to wind through the room of dancers, far different from the spectral melodies in the Forest. Overhead, as if gas and electricity hadn’t come to London, an antique chandelier of candles swayed. It would take just one errant flame to turn Sophia to ash in his arms.
He needed to get her out of here, just as soon as it wouldn’t prove remarkable.
“When is your birthday?” he asked, hoping to make conversation and pass the time.
“Thursday,” she said, smiling to herself. “Already planning to send my things to the curb?”
Matt sputtered, thinking no such thing, but she laughed, showing off her fine teeth and sparkling eyes.
“Careful now,” he said.
Sophia looked about as if to prepare for a raiding bull from the direction of the ladies’ retiring room.
“They’ll certainly notice you if you laugh.”
“Is laughing not allowed in society?” Sophia asked. Her brows arched in a way that made her seem almost pretty. She was turning out to be a surprising girl indeed.
“Not if one wants to remain anonymous. Not with a giggle like that.”
The music was slowing, and he saw Mrs. Simonet on the edge of the ballroom floor, watching them dance.
“Did you bring a cape or other items you need to collect?” he asked.
“No,” she said, confusion in her voice.
“Good. We’ll depart forthwith.”
***
The carriage ride home proved uncomfortable in the most stimulating way. Matthew rode facing backwards, as any gentleman would. Mrs. Simonet sat against the window, looking outside and chattering about the events of the ball. It wasn’t an unwelcome sound, as it kept the woman occupied.
As for Matt, he sat regarding Miss Stafford, his legs spread and expression no doubt stony. He did not touch her, merely watched as the gas lamps illuminating the streets sent beams of light over her lovely face.
He thought back to that interlude in his library.
How her cunt had looked bathed in his spend.
If only he could be back there now and plunge his fingers and seed into her tight little hole until she begged for mercy.
He was no doubt getting visibly hard, and Matt hoped she’d spot the cock he had ready for her.
And she liked to watch, didn’t she? Matt opened his legs a little wider and placed one of his gigantic hands near the shaft he’d love to feed into this sheltered miss.
If only she’d sink to the floor, take his cock out, and suck the head while Mrs. Simonet nattered on.
Or she could ride him as the carriage rocked, crying out as he stretched her with every bump.
Miss Stafford’s hand rested over her heart as if hers too was beating at a tempo that would require medical intervention. The next beam of light revealed her eyes fixed on his shaft’s outline against his trousers.
Matthew wondered if, should he dive beneath those voluminous skirts, her kitty would be wet for him.
Maybe she’d even have a trace of his spend from earlier to help ease the way as he licked her up and down until she gushed on his lips.
Was she able to see his face? See the heat in his eyes as he considered the ways he might corrupt her?
His cock was likely pumping out enough preparatory liquid to leave a visible spot. Matt was brushing his thumb over his cockhead to feel if the fabric was damp when he saw Miss Stafford draw in a sudden breath.
She kept her eyes fixed on his hard cock, encased in fine tailoring. He brushed his thumb over the head again, this time more slowly, and he heard the softest mewl. She liked it. He’d give her more to like.
And that’s when the carriage’s wheels slowed as they pulled into the portico attached to his townhouse. Damn and blast , he thought, wishing they could play their erotic, torturous game forever.
As Matt handed Sophia down from the carriage, he deftly removed her glove and surreptitiously placed her hand over his leaking, clothed cock.
“It’s big,” she whispered so the coachmen wouldn’t hear as they drove away. Mrs. Simonet was already making her way into the house. They had just a few moments before this improper interlude would descend into something far more ruinous.
“I got hard watching you,” he confessed, honesty appropriate in this moment.
She moved her hand over him until it proved tortuous. Matt gently plucked her hand off and tucked it in his arm while they walked into the house.
If this were an experienced woman with no fear of men, he’d have told her to lock her door tonight if she didn’t want a dangerous giant to visit her bed. It would have given them both an erotic thrill, but it felt unseemly because of the disclosures she’d made about her mother’s history.
When Matt bade her good night at the bottom of the stairs, he realized he needn’t say anything; her alert, aroused face showed she knew he wanted to take her.
He needed to take himself off on some contrived estate business, or Miss Stafford would find herself pinned and filled in ways she couldn’t even understand right now.
Perhaps if he attended to some ongoing canal work in Bouldon, she’d turn twenty-five, convert her dowry, and wisely flee his house in the meantime.
Matt had a sinking feeling it wouldn’t go according to plan, but he resolved to try it anyway.