Catherine is aware of her husband’s reputation and of his tendency to find it difficult to stay in one bed, what she didn’t know until tonight was that she was not the only one who was so determinedly devoted to him regardless of that fact. Well, that’s not entirely true, she knew Lord Sotherby was very loyal to Charles, it’s just that until she saw his face as Charles swept that obnoxious Barbara into his arms she didn’t know quite how devoted he was.
It was that look that made her tear her own weary gaze away from Charles and that woman and head over to the quiet royal advisor and offer him a dance.
A dance that led to them being where they are now, with her on her back in his bed with his mouth on her neck. She shivers against him and can feel him smile against her skin, even as his hands wander down her exposed stomach (her dress was just so very much in the way) and over her exposed hipbones (so was her underwear.) She arches upwards as he gently (and unexpectedly) strokes between her legs and the moan she emits is quite un-regal. But, she thinks as she pulls the rest of his clothes off, that she could scream the place down and still be much more regal than Barbara.
She can count the times she’s slept with Charles since they were married on her fingers and although he was a most attentive lover, she never felt he was all that in to it. Not like Sotherby who even in his completely naked state still looks every inch the reserved advisor, until that is he smirks at her and moves entirely down her body, smirks at her again and licks.
His tongue is heavenly as it flicks against her and his hair strangely soft between her fingers as she grasps at it and tries not to thrust upwards wildly, and then he licks into her and she properly loses it. Her hips rise of their own accord and he’s forced to hold her down as he licks her out, drawing heated moans from her throat and making her feel better than Charles ever did.
She actually whines when his tongue leaves her but it’s cut off by his mouth pressed hard against hers as two of his fingers slide straight inside her, probing and pressing a spot that makes her want to scream. She squeezes her eyes closed and gasps into his mouth and he smirks again (not like Charles, Charles smirked alright but Sotherby smirks without arrogance and there is something wonderfully endearing about that.)
When he (finally) braces both hands either side of her head and inches his cock inside her it is marvellous (to use Charles’ own word) and she wraps her arms around Sotherby’s shoulders to pull him downwards, kissing him deeply as he pushes all the way into her. He grunts softly as she contracts her muscles around him and it sends a quiet thrill through her, she feels attractive, she feels wanted, she feels needed. Especially as he quietly moans her name when he begins to rock his hips, sliding in and out of her and driving her to the brink of something she thinks might be wild.
Her husband is undeniably fond of the man and she can see why when he kisses her, his tongue soft and gentle and coaxing without a hint of demand or need. Though she knows he needs it just as much as she does, seeing Charles in the arms of that woman is heart-breaking for her but at least she can demand Charles’ time by virtue of being married to the man. Sotherby is at Charles’ beck and call and it hurts her to know how much Sotherby suffers.
Catherine angles her hips upwards and grins (she’s never grinned during the act before) when a lust fuelled moan spills from Sotherby’s lips, this is wrong so very wrong and probably faintly sinful (to borrow a phrase from that most hated of men) but nothing has ever felt so good for her before.
As his thrusts speed up and her legs lock around his waist she thinks this might have to become a regular occurrence (well if Charles won’t commit to either of them, they can at least seek comfort in each other.) One of his hands finds one of her breasts and she gasps lifting her hips up as much as she can, meeting him halfway as he becomes more and more erratic in his movements. Gasping and grunting and groaning her name even Charles didn’t do that and she finds it impossibly erotic.
She wants to shriek his name as she comes suddenly (didn’t even see his hand go between her legs to encourage her) but she doesn’t actually know it, he’s just Sotherby and she supposes that has to do. She screams it so loud she thinks Charles might actually hear but in that moment she decides it serves him right. Sotherby comes moments later with her name reduced to a reverential whisper that takes her breath away, she pulls him down for a kiss almost immediately and doesn’t let him go until he’s panting and clawing desperately for air.
He pulls out of her carefully and collapses to the side, still gulping down air but she can see his smile out of the corner of her eyes, it’s so gentle, so happy, so perfect that she hates Charles for hurting him. She can deal with his impropriety towards her but Sotherby chose to be loyal to Charles in all the ways that he is and Charles barely repays him. So she will repay him instead, she decides as he tentatively curls up beside her. She decides she can show Sotherby the love that Charles refuses to give either of them (and not just because Sotherby is apparently mind-blowing in the bedroom) because he deserves it, they both deserve it. And Charles, well he deserves what they’re doing to him too; revenge, she thinks as she curls into Sotherby’s welcoming embrace, is rather sweeter than she ever thought it could be.