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He sighed and got more comfortable. Perhaps being a landlord wasn’t so terrible after all. Recalling the frequent pleasure he derived from having Cecey in his arms and his company, he reflected that being a husband wasn’t so awful either. His hand wandered lower and stroked Cecey’s hip and squeezed a buttock. Like him, she had adopted the habit of sleeping naked, and as his hand worked the soft, round globe of her buttock, she pressed closer, her mound pressing against his thigh, making his cock lengthen and stiffen and a pleasurable fullness gather in his groin.

He smiled and dropped a kiss on the top of her head, which made her lift her face to his with a sloe-eyed smile. He kissed her mouth, sliding down the bed a fraction and rolling onto his side to draw her closer against him. She lifted her leg over his hip, and his now fully hardened cock pressed against her entrance. It seemed too quick and easy, but she moved her hips in a way that suggested she didn’t think so. Deepening the kiss, he adjusted his body and slid inside her with a slow, deep thrust. They were developing a familiar pattern to their lovemaking, that felt natural and easy. There was comfort as well as pleasure in it.

The noise in her throat told him she appreciated the connection, and he grunted in satisfaction as his hips moved in languid thrusts. She moved her hips with him and his hand on her bottom pressed her close with each thrust. The pleasure was deep and lazy, as if they had all the time in the world to enjoy each other. Their kisses stoked the heat, and his hand kept her pressed close, while his hips worked in tandem with hers to wring every last drop of pleasure from their conjoined bodies.

He groaned softly as the pleasure built, and she panted, moving her hips more urgently.

“Fuck, yes. Cecey.” He murmured against her throat, moving his hips with more power, to give her more of what she wanted. He was buried deep inside her, and he loved it. There were definite benefits to marriage. He had never had this much sex when he was single. And never felt this level of comfortable ease with it either.

His other hand cupped and squeezed a soft, round breast, and he pushed deeper and harder, driving her higher, listening to the sounds she made and experiencing a thrill of desire from every gasp, moan, and whimper.

“Please, Rick!”

He loved it when she begged. He increased the pace, his own breathing becoming faster, and he groaned in delight when she moaned, and her body shook with the sudden peaking of her desire.

He stroked her face, dropping his pace and watching her recovery. She was so beautiful when she fell apart like that. He loved it when she came on his cock. Could he make her do it again?

He kissed her and whispered, “Again, my lady?” As his hips increased the tempo, she groaned and moved with him, and in moments he had the satisfaction of feeling her second orgasm.

She panted, “Oh Rick, that feels so good!”

“Good. Do it again!” His voice came out hoarse and gravelly with desire. One more for my lady, then he was going to come. Hard, he thought, with the desire banking in his balls, tight and hot and demanding release. Just a little longer, he bargained with his body as he labored to push his wife to another peak of pleasure.

“Rick! Rick! Just come,” she begged, breathless and agonized with desire. It fueled his blood. “I want to feel you!”

It was too much to resist. His body wound tight with hot desire, spiraled up in a flood of hot pleasure, and burst with a groan and an explosion of bliss through his body. He jerked and grunted with the force of it and let the aftermath of bliss wash through him, loosening his muscles and flooding his limbs with waves of lassitude.

“Oh, Cecey,” he murmured kissing her and holding her close, before his muscles relaxed completely, and he rolled onto his back in surrender. She rolled with him and lay on him, heavy and inert.

He just drifted for several minutes in a haze of post-orgasmic bliss. Yes, there were compensations to being married, he thought muzzily.

Eventually she moved to get more comfortable, and he grunted in satisfaction. His arm tightened around her briefly, as he lost the will to stay awake and slipped into contented sleep.

***

Cecey nestled her head into his chest and listened to him breathe. She kissed his chest and whispered, “Good night, Rick,” her heart full of warmth.

He didn’t answer, and she drifted into sleep herself, content with the events of the day.

Chapter 23

Rick left the house the next morning with Pagette and a cart full of supplies: wood, thatch, and nails. More would be needed—this was just what Pagette had managed or scrounge together overnight. He would need to source the rest from somewhere nearby. Hopefully Baines would know where to do that. Fortunately, Pagette had been raised on a farm and was quite handy when it came to repairing roofs and building barns.

They arrived at the site where the men Pagette had recruited were assembled, six of them. They ranged in age from sixteen to forty, all laborers in need of work, and they had jumped at the offer. Pagette backed the cart into the yard through the break in the fence—that was on the list for repairs­—and Rick dismounted, tied Sovereign to a tree, and gave him a nosebag to munch on.

He moved toward the men, greeting them. “Thank you for coming. I’m Lord Kenrick.” He shook hands with each man, including the lad, who was thin as a whippet and reminded him of himself at that age, all long limbs and appetite!

There was no sign of Baines as yet. The men organized themselves to start the work under Pagette’s direction—they were going to repair the roof of Mrs. Rawlins’s house first—Rick divested himself of his neck cloth, jacket, and waistcoat. If he was going to be here, he might as well bog in and help. Rolling up his sleeves, he strolled over to Pagette and said, “How can I help?”

Pagette goggled at him. “My lord, you’ll get all grubby. It’s dirty, sweaty work.”

Rick shrugged. “These are not new breeches. Besides, I need some exercise.”

“Well, my lord, if you’d hold the beams so that Bob can cut them with the saw—?”

Rick nodded and happily joined the work crew. The sun beat down on his back, making his shirt stick to his skin, and he was glad of the earthenware water jars Pagette had brought, guzzling several cups when he took a break.

Baines arrived mid-morning, on a fine black gelding. Rick, in the act of binding a bundle of thatch, passed it off to another man and strode over to his chief tenant as he was dismounting.