Jack Caldwell - The Three Colonels

Caroline melted into the kiss, her body coming in firm contact with his. Not for the first time did she feel the evidence of his desire, but she did not flinch. She felt a need that she knew only his body could fulfill.

Sir John’s hands slid downward to her hips. Caroline’s eyes opened first in surprise before closing in pleasure. Her arms rose first to his shoulders, then around his neck in response. Sir John’s lips moved to her chin, her cheek, her neck. Caroline felt the heat within her grow, and moaned in regret when Sir John suddenly lifted his head and cupped her face. For a moment, blue eyes bore into green. Caroline drew breath and relaxed.

Sir John stepped back and removed his robe. At first, he seemed to Caroline’s eyes a bit silly in his nightshirt, and the thought acted to relax her further. The top buttons of the garment were undone, and his broad chest peeked from underneath. Unconsciously, she licked her lips. Sir John moved closer again, this time caressing her as his hands drifted down to the small points of her breasts and his fingertips made circles around them.

Caroline knew she was slim and, therefore, smaller than many ladies of her acquaintance. She had worried that Sir John might be disappointed in her. But his touch vanquished that concern. The feelings he stirred within her were all delightful, and Caroline could not help but give out a small cry of pleasure.

“Yes, Caro, let me know what pleases you,” he murmured. Sir John smiled as his hands cupped her breasts, his thumbs feeling her nipples through the material.

“What… what did you call me?” she asked, trembling.

“Caro. You are my Caro—my delight—and I shall call you thus when we are together… thus.”

Caroline slipped her arms around her husband again. Covering his face with kisses, she barely noticed that Sir John had dropped his hands again, this time to raise the hem of the negligee. He pulled it up, and Caroline lifted her arms to allow her husband to raise it over her head. With a flick of his wrist, he sent the flimsy nothing towards a corner. Sir John reached and lifted his bride in his arms and carried her to their marriage bed.

He placed her on the sheets. “To pleasure thee is my delight.” He stood up and slowly removed his own garment. Caroline could not tear her eyes away from his manhood.

“Do not fear, my dear. ’Tis me; ’tis natural. It was made for thee.”

“For me? That will fit… inside of me?”

“Oh, yes, my dear, and it will give you great pleasure.” He took his place lying next to Caroline and began to kiss her, stroking her breasts again.

Currents of delight coursed through her, and she murmured repeatedly against his lips, “Yes… oh, yes.”

Sir John’s hand reached down to the hot, dewy core of her. Slowly, carefully, he played her as skillfully as one might play the keys of a pianoforte, but the music was Caroline’s cries of pleasure as she moved against his hand.

After a time, he placed his body over hers, and her arms reached up to embrace him. “Are you ready for me, Caro?” he asked. To her nod, he added, “There will be but a bit of pain. Forgive your Johnny.” She nodded again.

Slowly he eased his manhood into her. Caroline gasped as she felt for the first time the sensation of being filled. Sir John tried with all his will to be as gentle as he could, but the exquisite pleasure nearly undid him. Caroline cried out as he became fully embedded in her, but soon he felt her begin to relax.

“Caro, are you well?” he asked.

“Yes,” she gasped, the pain already fading. “Oh, yes. Please do not stop.” Her hands reached down to his buttocks. She grasped him and pulled him ever deeper inside.

Instinctively, he began his strokes—first slowly and then with increasing speed. Caroline’s hips rose to meet each thrust. He whispered in her ear, “Caro… my Caro. I am yours… your Johnny… forever.”

The fierce groan she made in reply was too much for Sir John. With a cry, he spilled his seed deep within his virgin bride.

Caroline could feel his release flooding her core, the heat radiating into her. She was overwhelmed by the sensation of being one with her husband, of completeness. She seized Sir John as tightly as she could as he continued to convulse. Finally, he collapsed upon her breast, both of them slick from the exertion of their lovemaking.

When she could catch her breath, Caroline asked, “John, are you well?”

“Ah, yes, my dear—never better. But,” he stroked her face, “are you?”

He saw her eyes fill with tears of joy. “I… I never dreamed. Oh John—”

“Johnny,” he interrupted her. “As you are Caro, I am Johnny, when we are thus.”

She held him close again. “Johnny… thank you,” she said with a kiss.

The night was beyond his expectations. Caroline soon conquered any apprehension or awkwardness that had existed, and when he whispered the private name he had chosen for her—Caro—into her ear, her reaction almost overcame him. Afterwards, the look of wonder and gratification on Caroline’s lovely face was the greatest reward Buford could imagine.

And now as Caroline slept, her body wrapped around him, Buford was filled with wonder and gratification as well. Another man might have basked in self-satisfaction, but Caroline’s husband knew his own talents. The greatest of musicians can make an inferior instrument sound only so well and no more. He knew he was not the great lover of the world; he had not that much practice. To his increasing delight, Buford was coming to the realization that he had been far more fortunate in his choice of wife than he could imagine. There was something there, something hidden, that he had been able to unlock and set free. There was nowhere on earth he would rather be than next to Caroline. He could not help himself; he had to experience it again.

He leaned over and began to caress her face lightly. “Caro… my beautiful Caro.”

Lovely green eyes opened and looked at him. “Hmm…” She smiled. He began to kiss her lightly on the forehead and then the eyelids. “Is it morning already?”

“No, my dear.” Buford moved down to her neck.

“Oh, John,” moaned Caroline.

“My name, Caro—say my name. The one I taught you for moments like this.” His lips traveled further south.

“Johnny!” she purred.

Sometime later, as his labors finally exhausted him enough to join his sleeping wife, Buford’s thoughts were those of caution.

I must take care. It would not do to commit that most fatal of sins against the ton—falling in love with my own wife.

The morning sun was full upon Caroline’s face as she awoke. At first, she was confused by the unfamiliar room until she remembered she was a married woman. She stretched like a cat, feeling aches from places before unknown to her, and recalled the events of the evening.

I am Lady Buford… Caro… Oh Lord, what a night! I had nothing to fear. John was so kind, but how wantonly I acted!

Caroline began to rise from the bed when she noticed she was not alone. Her husband was still in bed with her—not sleeping, but sitting up watching her with an amused eye—and obviously without a stitch of clothing on. That realization brought to Caroline’s attention that she was as naked as he was. She scrambled back under the covers, too embarrassed to speak.

“Good morning, Lady Buford,” Sir John greeted her.

“Good morning, sir,” Caroline answered, too mortified to notice that her husband had used her new title. “May I ask what you are doing here?”

Sir John grinned. Caroline was reacting in just the manner he had foreseen. “I beg your pardon. I thought you were my wife.”

Caroline colored. “Of course, I am your wife, but why are you still here? Do you not have your own bed?”

“Yes, and I am in it.”

Caroline frowned. “Sir, it is my understanding that these are my rooms. At least that was what I was led to believe yesterday.”

“Ah, I see. I am afraid there has been a misunderstanding, my dear. How unforgivable of me! I forgot to tell you something. I suppose I was preoccupied.” Caroline blushed deeper. “Well, let there be a right understanding between us, madam. These are indeed your rooms. However, there shall be no talk of your bed and my bed—only our bed, Caro.” Sir John’s face drew very close.

“Oh! Do you mean to share my bed every night? How extraordinary! But the servants, sir! What shall they make of this?”

“The servants?” Sir John laughed. “Why, they shall think no harm of it. Only that the mistress is so enamored of the master’s person that she cannot bear to be separated from him.”

Caroline could not decide whether she was distressed by this observation or not. She began to rise from the bed.

“What are you doing, Caroline?”

She gave him a look. “Perhaps you can sleep the day away, but I have duties to attend—your breakfast, for example.”

“Madam, please.” Sir John placed his hand upon hers. “Your duties can wait for tomorrow. It is my particular wish that you enjoy your first day as Lady Buford.” She paused and then, looking into those eyes, gave in. He smiled at her and then proceeded to get out of bed himself.

“But where are you going?” she asked.

He gave her a smile. “Patience, my dear. I shall return.”

With that, he left the bed. Caroline could not help but look with satisfaction upon her husband as he walked across the room, naked as Adam, before he pulled on his robe and disappeared into his bedroom. A quick word to the servant and he returned, crossing over to her side of the bed.