A Rosy Encounter

Miss Rosa Hallsworth pushes George back against the wall, twirling his deep red silken cravat around her fingertips. She kisses him quickly, then draws back to feast her eyes upon his handsome face, biting her rosy bottom lip.

"If your father knew..." But George doesn't have time to finish; her hot lips are all over him once more.

"If my father knew, you'd both be out in the snow, ten paces apart and aiming pistols at one another." She kisses him again, trembling with the effort of keeping her wild giggles contained. "I've been told he's a fantastic shot, you know."

"I'd risk a duel for you any day, Rosa, but nonetheless, I hope nobody notices our absence."

It's hard enough to keep their relationship secret when they take forbidden walks along secluded footpaths together, let alone at Mr Hallsworth's yearly Yuletide ball. Rosa can only hope her father is too distracted by meddling in her older sisters' affairs to have noticed her dragging her dashing young lover into the cloakroom.

Rosa's had two glasses of fine red wine already, and with such a small frame it's more than enough to make her bold. She nibbles and bites at George's neck while her nimble fingers get to work on his buttons.

He has a reputation for being a proud man, but he couldn't be happier to have this gorgeous, black-haired waif of a woman dominate him entirely. One of her hands slips down his forearm until her fingers lock comfortably between his. She pulls up his hand and pins him to the wall between the collection of expensive coats, grinning as she kisses her prisoner again, with soft yet purposeful lips.

"It feels naughty, doesn't it?" she whispers, ever so slightly short of breath. "Anyone could walk in and find us like this..."

George wants to warn her to stay quiet, to be discreet, but her free hand has already made short work of his shirt and is tracing excruciatingly tender circles on the tight top flattening his chest. Rosa's finger grazes his nipple through the fabric and he feels his knees weaken, along with any resolve he had not to do anything her father would consider duel-worthy. "Are you sure this is a good idea?" he asks weakly, but his well-intentioned words mean nothing when Rosa's feather-light touch is driving him so wild.

"I want you," she says, almost in a growl. How such a mild-mannered young lady can become such an animal has always perplexed George, but he doesn't mind. In fact, it wouldn't be too far off the mark to say it's one of his favourite things about her.

Her warm fingers trickle down over his belly towards the button of his trousers. They tease their way between his hot, damp skin and the soft cotton, and Rosa looks up at him. Her deep brown eyes are so wide and innocent, yet they're asking him the most intimate question of all.

At first he doesn't want to say yes -- logically, this is all too dangerous -- but there's a magical, tingling pull between his legs that will not take no for an answer. With his free hand, he unbuttons his trousers himself, then pushes Rosa's hand onto his soft mound of pubic hair.

Rosa lets out a low, guttural moan as her fingers push downwards to meet the hot wetness between his legs. He's been wanting her so badly all evening that by now every slight touch feels like a surge of untempered energy. He wraps his arms around Rosa's waist, then cups his hand around her bum through her layers of petticoats, but she pushes him gently away.

"Not now, George." Her voice isn't quite scolding, but it makes him take notice all the same. "I'm the one who's fucking you tonight."

Her fingers curl upwards inside him just as she finishes speaking, and the only response he can muster is a care-free moan as his eyes roll back in his head.

"Shh," she whispers, grinning again because she knows exactly how hard it is for him to keep quiet.

Rosa's finger rubs in long, focussed strokes all the way from his clit to deep inside him. The hand she's pinned against the wall contracts and spasms every time he forces himself to suppress the sound of the sheer delight at having her inside him, filling him so perfectly even with such delicate hands.

She bites his neck hard, and the bittersweet sharpness only adds to the tension building inside him. He grabs her hair and breathes in the sweet smell of her rosewater perfume as he holds her close. He'll have to help her to realign her hairpins once this is over, but it's hard to hold onto such thoughts when your lover's fingers are the source of burning waves of pleasure radiating throughout your body.

George begs himself not to orgasm -- not yet. This blissful tightrope walk between achingly perfect pleasure and a hot, intense finish is too good to last forever, but must it really end so quickly? Rosa's exposed neck above her lacy cream ball dress is damp and salty on George's lips as he showers her in kisses, then nibbles her too, just softly enough not to leave a mark. A brief memory flashes through his mind of lying sweaty and naked in Rosa's four-poster bed after a similar frenzy of passion, their breasts squashed pleasantly together as they cradled each other, a tangle of limbs.

Such a beautifully intimate memory is what pushes him over the edge; he cries out so loudly that Rosa kisses him hard to muffle his voice.

Panting, he holds her close in his arms. "I love you, I love you, I..."

There are footsteps coming towards them. Rosa grabs a coat at random and bundles it into George's arms. He's not convinced it covers everything, but it's too late now; Rosa's sister pokes her head around the corner.

"Whatever are you doing in here, Rosa?" she asks, glaring at George. "You're going to miss your favourite dance at this rate, and there are some most attractive men who have been after a dance with you all night."

"I'll be along in a minute."

The sister nods and grudgingly disappears. George's shoulders sag with relief; he's off the hook for now, at least. He'd put money on Rosa's sisters being far too polite to cause a scene, even if they did suspect something untoward.

"Quick," hisses Rosa, blindly fiddling with her hairpins in rather a vain attempt to look less dishevelled.

George buttons up his shirt and trousers at speed; his little finger accidentally brushes over his bound nipple and he melts all over again.

"I hope one day we won't have to hide like this," he says with a sigh, hanging the coat Rosa threw at him back on a free hook.

Rosa bites her lip, but wistfully this time. "You knew when we started all this that I was already promised to another man." She strokes his cheek tenderly, leaving a warm trail of the scent of his cunt under his nose.

"I wish it wasn't so." But he knows it's hopeless; it always has been. "Can't we just... elope?"

She kisses him deeply, her hands on either side of his head as though she's drawing his very soul into her. When their lips and tongues meet, the world really does fade away, and family politics, social class and all other barriers between them cease to exist. They're two hearts beating together to grow into something far stronger than the sum of its parts.

"I'll think about it," Rosa says when finally, reluctantly, she pulls away. She drags her come-scented finger down his nose and lips one more time, and they head back to the ballroom to play the part of strangers for the rest of the night.