But we were not little porcelain figures, we were humans, complete with all the weaknesses of the flesh. As soon as Luke drew me up and to him, and began to embrace me, I remembered that.

When we passed through the hall and up the staircase, it was empty. But even if it had not been, I could not have imagined caring. Both of us hurried through the door into Luke’s bedroom, and as soon as we were there we began our embraces again.

There was hardly a trace in him of the boy who had once been a combination of shyness and a coltish, clumsy demeanor. He took me off my feet, then laid me down on the bed and held my head and waist tight as he kissed me, his hands much more powerful than I had remembered.

Of course, I was not the same girl who had once wondered how exactly she was supposed to get a young gentleman out of his clothes in order for any marriage consummation to occur. My fingers found their way straight to Luke’s fall, and after he pushed up my gown and pushed open my legs,he was inside me straightaway.

Still, I was not jaded enough to hold back a gasp of pleasure, and Luke grunted in return, rutting as though we were pressed for time.

I was so enraptured with the act, which felt better with him than it had with Mr. Wharton, that I pushed my husband back before he could die. Instead of pleasing myself and his organ separately, I was now well aware that both elements were possible at once.

And so I lay on my stomach, on top of my hand, while Luke pounded himself into my body from behind. It took a moment for him to learn the positioning, and I concluded with surprise that he may have been chaste since he had known me. More likely, he had only been to women with very specific requirements.

Still, no amount of inexperience could stop him, and he soon began to cry out so loudly that I wondered whether his neighbors would hear. His servants would certainly hear, that much was certain, I reminded myself as I, too, began to cry out.

Luke slowed himself, breathing frantically, pushing a hand over my mouth in a hasty attempt to keep us both quiet.

For me, it did not work. I desired more movement, not less, and with him still inside of me bounced up and down to achieve it.

I got exactly what I wanted, and quickly I bit into Luke’s fingers as I fairly screamed with pleasure, my body pinching around his prick so easily that he moaned, shoving himself into me and filling me with heat.

We stayed that way, his arms clenched around me, his prick continuing to tense and release, my body relaxing into the feather bed. Though my stays pinched in that position, and Luke’s arm must have ached, we simply could not move away from each other.

When we finally did, our juices spilled onto the bed, and I looked at them and laughed with pleasure.

There was no need for me to be terribly worried. If worst came to worst, I had an elderly acquaintance who would advise me on herbal preparations. Such a person was indispensable for every “widow” who liked to have a bit of the fun that was traditionally only permitted to married women. In truth, I longed for another child, but I had promised myself that for the sake of my daughter’s reputation I would content myself with only her.

Soon, though, those practical considerations were once again the farthest possible thing from my mind. For the man who had once been baffled by every single one of my garments was able to get me not only out of my dress, but out of my stays and my shift.

I did him the same favor, and surveyed his body with admiration verging on alarm. If anything, the years had been kind to his body. With darker skin and a bit more hair, he looked like a boy whose manhood had come as a surprise to everyone, including himself.

We hardly knew what to do with each other, and I ended up sitting in his lap, kissing him as if I were about to face execution.

It was almost too easy for the two of us to migrate from that particular position to one that was even more gratifying. I wrapped my legs around his back and lowered myself onto his prick so that we both groaned. For a moment, I was content just to sit there, letting him grab at my hair, kissing my face and neck with so much passion I wondered whether he would be able to last long enough for me to take my own pleasure.

We began to rock back and forth. The bed seemed sturdy enough, but I doubted that the walls could possibly mask our cries of pleasure. With each unexpected sensation I smiled, and when Luke clutched at my bosom and buried his face into it I was so delighted that I laughed, the sound echoing in the nearly empty room. He laughed and kissed each breast harder, making them sensitive, ticklish, and eager for more caresses.

There was no excuse for me then. The first rush of delight was over, and our new lovemaking was slower and even more decadent. I had been given a chance to object, a chance to dress, a chance to speak to my husband about every single thing that he continued to owe me.

But I could not bear to, because interrupting the sweet nectar of our rocking for even a moment would not have been tolerable to me.

Indeed, I thought that I might try again when Luke pushed me so that I was flat on my back, my legs spread as wide as I could force them, his prick still hard and heaving within me.

Pushing my legs together so that he could hardly move his prick at all, I endeavored to slow his progress. But his eyes nearly crossed at this, and he began to bounce on me, holding my wrists down and moving with such agility that the bed began to shake and his moans became decidedly inelegant.

I closed my eyes, praying that this frenzy would continue, even as I knew that I ought to call everything off, particularly as I had already risked another child just minutes earlier.

Then Luke buried his hands in my hair and moaned “Alice,” and I fairly squealed with pleasure, the delight of the bedroom overcoming me as if it were completely new. My name seemed to be an aphrodisiac for the poor man, because he sounded strangled as he grunted it again. “Alice.”

With his end, he ground himself against me so frantically that the tight sensations threw me into a fit of my own and I wailed, helpless against the rush of passion that was driving his teeth into my neck, my fingernails into his flushed and warm skin.