Riverdale Township - 1819
Cries of ecstasy could be heard echoing off the stone walls of the dark castle as a raven haired man continued to pound himself into the petite blonde on all fours in front of him.
He'd always known that she was different. That she was the one. His left arm snaked around her body, his large, pale hand finding purchase on her neck and squeezing while he fucked her. He didn't think he could hold out anymore. Using his right hand to massage her swollen clit, her back arched towards him, her head falling back to rest on his shoulder.
"Are you sure, Elizabeth? Once we do this, there is no going back. This will be your forever, an eternity of damnation as my Queen." He growled into her ear as beads of sweat dripped down her slender, unmarred neck. He wasn't sure he could wait for her answer, his ache to feed and fuck her blurring into one. He felt her tremble as she crested towards her bliss, spurring him to thrust faster as she tightened around him.
"Yes, My King. Please, I need you. I w-want this,” she stammered. “I want you. Forever," Elizabeth panted as he drove his cock deeper into her core, another orgasm threatening to wash over her. He could have come right then and there, but he knew he needed to hold out just a few moments longer so that he could turn her while in the throes of passion.
Once he felt himself getting closer to his peak, he grabbed a handful of his lovers hair and pulled her head to the side, exposing her neck. “You’re mine now, mo chridhe .” He hissed, sinking his fangs into her tender flesh and drawing out her sweet nectar.
Elizabeth exploded around him, her essence dripping down both of their thighs while he drank his fill of her life force. She screamed his name over and over as she came for a third time, this time drawing his seed out of him. He spilled himself inside of her, growling as he suckled at her throat.
When he saw her eyes begin to flutter and felt her heart rate slow, he released her neck, stopping himself before he drained her completely. Trickles of blood ran down from the wounds as he laid her down, still in a tranquil state. He smiled down at her as he watched her fangs begin to form, knowing that the ritual was almost complete. Soon she would be like him, with him, forever. He could already see the hunger developing in her clouded eyes, his cock twitching at the thought of hunting with her. Feeding with her.
“Now m'eudail , you must taste all of your husband and we can be together for all eternity.” He picked up his dagger from the side table to pierce the skin on his wrist when a loud bang from somewhere in their home startled him.
Riverdale - 2019
“Dammit Jug, are you even listening to me?” Archie said, slapping him on the arm. Jughead shook his head to dispel the memories of his only love from his head.
It had been 200 years and he still couldn’t stop thinking about her. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever get over the loss of his beloved Elizabeth. He knows that he probably should, she is long since dead with no way of returning to him, but he hasn’t been able to bring himself to let her go. If he still had a soul after a 1000 years of his undead existence, then he’s pretty certain she took it with her when she died.
He would never forgive himself for what happened that night: her father and a handful of villagers bursting into his sanctuary, grabbing her from his arms only to drive a stake through her slowly beating heart right before his eyes. His rage at her death forced him into a feral state, feeding on them all and ripping her father to shreds before feasting on his heart.
He watched the light drain from her eyes before he gathered her into his arms to bury her properly, kicking over the lanterns in the room and setting the castle ablaze. His heart died with her, her body burned and buried in that remote meadow on the edge of Sweetwater River.
The only marker of the last resting place of Elizabeth Blossom-Jones was a field of lilacs that smelled as sweet as she once did. He’d spent as much time as he could nowadays sitting there in that serene field, hoping to feel closer to her somehow.
The first 50 years or so, he was a mess, living in the shadows and feeding on anyone who crossed his path. Then he met Archie, an old world vamp who came to the country from Ireland to leave behind the influx of hunters that were bleeding into the populous. It was as if they’d always known each other, their kinship strong as if formed by the bonds of family. They spent their nights hunting food and a good fuck. Nothing more, nothing less. Although Jughead had become restless the last few decades, thinking of Elizabeth more and more as the years passed him by.
“Aye, sorry Arch, I was just thinking,” Jughead replied, his accent thicker than normal from the alcohol in his system. Archie knew all about his wife and her horrfic murder and didn’t push him to talk about it if he didn’t want to. However, he did often push him to try and move on.
“Still thinking of your lost lass, Jug?” Jughead nodded. “I’m sorry, mate. Truly. But now is probably not the time. I’m starting to get hungry and I believe I have found us a delicious meal.” Archie swung his head, motioning towards a group of girls, each in their early twenties who were grinding against each other and laughing.
They were beautiful, he’d give Archie that. It was an added bonus that neither was blonde. He could make it work for tonight, not be haunted by images of his beloved. “Nice choice, Arch. I call dibs on the brunette,” he said, sipping his scotch.
“No can do mate. I already did,” Archie said, wiggling his eyebrows and sliding his tongue across his canines.
“Fuck all Arch, are you daft? You know I can’t stand redheads, present company excluded of course,” Jughead scoffed, remembering the last redhead he tried to feed off of. Ethel had nearly clawed his eyes out before he finally overpowered her and drained every last drop of her blood.
“But Jug, I need my wingman! How am I supposed to get this girl all alone if you don’t distract her friend?” Archie pouted. Jughead just shook his head and laughed at his companions’s puppy-dog eyes.
“I think you and your Irish charm will manage mate. You always do. I think I’m just going to head out. I’ll just pick up something quick to eat on my way back to the house.” Jughead threw a fifty on the bar as the bartender walked by and crept slowly through the crowd of pulsating bodies.
As he approached the group of girls Archie was after, he caught a scent. Something that he hadn’t smelled in a person’s blood in centuries. Lilacs. He turned his head, walking briskly towards the scent with wild abandon, not looking at where he was heading. He closed his eyes, listening for the heartbeat associated with the scent when he felt himself crash into someone. Even with his eyes closed, his reflexes were faster than any humans, so it was nothing to catch the person in his arms before they crashed to the floor.
When he finally opened his eyes, they were met with a familiar meadow green, wide and bright and beautiful. He blinked a few times, convinced that his mind was playing tricks on his heart. The angel he held in his arms smelled like fresh lilacs, was as pale as death itself, and had beautiful doe eyes. Her golden hair fell down her shoulders in wave and he could feel her shallow breaths quicken as the smell of her arousal reached his nose.
“Hello,” he said enticingly, his eyes darkening at his lustful thoughts for the woman in front of him. Can this really be? Is it even possible? He pondered as he continued to hold her.
“H-Hello...” she stammered, clutching tighter to his shirt. Jughead loosened his grip on her, straightening out to get her back on her feet. The mystery goddess in front of him lowered her eyes, biting her lip before she looked back into his eyes. “Have we met before?” she whispered, her head tilting slightly to the side.
“Perhaps in another lifetime, m'eudail . I’m sure I would remember a vision such as yourself in this one,” Jughead smirked, wetting his lips as he watched her rub her thighs together. “Would you care to dance?”
Betty was so entranced by him that she couldn’t do more than nod before she turned around, grinding her ass against him to the rhythm of the music. Jughead could feel her pulse quicken as she raised her hands above her head to tug at his dark curls. He could smell her all around him, feel her blood coursing through her veins, her heart thumping in her chest and it turned him on in ways he couldn’t describe.
In the dark of the dim house lights, it would be so easy to take her but he knew, if his instincts were correct, that she wouldn’t want him to do that here. She would want to make the decision on her own, and he was still a gentleman for fucks sake.
Well, at least mostly.
Jughead lowered his hand down the side of her hip, slowly making his way to the hem of her black skirt to graze his fingers on the inside of her thigh. She moaned as Jughead dropped kisses to her exposed shoulder, licking her pulse point and sucking a faint bruise. He was lost in his own world, savoring the taste of her skin when shouting caught both of their attentions and broke the spell that they were under.
A few feet from where they had been dancing stood a very frazzled Archie and two very angry women. The pale redhead was jamming her finger into his chest while the brunette stood to the side, arms crossed with a stern look on her face.
“Oh no,” Betty said, grabbing his hand and pulling Jughead towards the commotion. “V, Cher? Everything okay?” she chewed on her lower lip nervously, her eyes flitting between her friends and the redheaded man.
“No cousin, everything is far from ok! This Ed Sheeran wanna-be thought he could swoop in while my back was turned and try to make a pathetic move on my wife!” Archie looked to Jughead for help, confused as to why he was still in the club, but happy to not be alone with these banshees.
“Archie, ní iad na cinn iad, mo chara. I think leaving these lovely ladies alone would be best, mate.” Jughead thought it best to speak to Archie in his native tongue to let him know these girls probably weren't the best to feed on. He knew the type, fiery and opinionated, and they were nothing but trouble. Even their blood did weird things to a vamp’s system that could take days to run its course.
“Is he a friend of yours?” Betty asked, her hand still gripping his as if he may disappear at any moment. He looked down at her, cupping her cheek tenderly as a small smile pulled at the corner of his lip and sighed.
“Yes, I’m very sorry for my friend, ladies. He can misread signals at times, he is still getting used to American customs,” Jughead lied. While he and Archie had both been in the States for several decades and were more Americanized than most, they had decided to maintain their fairly thick accents over the years to use it to their advantage when needed.
“I’ll make sure to explain them to him better. If you will excuse us,” Jughead nodded, stepping away from Betty and grabbed Archie’s arm to drag him out of the crowd of people who had gathered to watch the scene before them. He was already frustrated that he didn’t even get a chance to ask the beautiful blonde what her name was, now he’d have to deal with a hangry Irishman on top of that.
“Jug, slow down a sec. Where’s the fire?” Archie asked as Jughead continued to pull him out of the club and into the cool night air. He dragged his friend down the street a few yards so no one could hear him before he turned to Archie, anger evident on his face.
“Bloody hell, man. Read a room before you pick a tar-,” Jughead started before someone shouting caught his attention. He looked towards the exit to see his blonde angel waving her arms and running towards the pair.
“Hold on a second, mate.” Jughead stepped around Archie and watched as the dangling embellishments of her black crop-top and skirt bounced with each step she took, making a jingling sound. Out in the light of the moon, he could see the slight flush painted across her pale skin.
Flashes of another time, when he’d seen her other likeness this way, panting with her hair wild and cheeks a ruby hue flooded his mind. He shook his head to dispel the thoughts as she ran up to him, staring into his eyes as if searching for something. Her chest heaved as she stepped closer to him, her hand hovering over his heart.
“Hey- um. I don’t- I mean, I didn’t get your name,” Betty said, her blush crawling down her body. Jughead smiled at the innocence he saw in her eyes. Some things never change, do they? he mused. “I’m Betty, by the way,” she held her hand out for him to shake it but was surprised when instead he turned it, his lips running along her knuckles in a gentle kiss.
Jughead didn’t miss the way her pulse sped up and her pheromones spiked. He was sure that even from a few paces back that Archie could smell it and had to suppress the urge to mark her as his right in the middle of the street. “I’m Jughead.”
“Jughead? That’s a very unusual name,” Betty laughed. “I assume it’s some sort of strange nickname you earned in an embarrassing way?”
“You could say that. So Betty, how does one go about contacting you should they want to take you out for coffee sometime?” Jughead grinned, still gripping her hand in his. Betty blushed and motioned for his cell phone. After unlocking it, he watched her add a contact before sending herself a text message.
“Now, you have me... I mean, a way to contact me!” Betty looked away, biting her lip at her slip up. Jughead placed his hand on her cheek to turn her head slowly, looking deep into her eyes.
“I will take both, if you are willing to give them,” he whispered, placing his lips to hers in a gentle kiss. Betty moaned at the feel of his mouth on hers and would have deepened the kiss had she not heard her friends shouting her name from a cab behind her. “Until we meet again, mo chridhe.”
Riverdale Township 1818
Elizabeth dashed across the countryside, her cheeks flush and body tense in anticipation at the thought of seeing her love again. He had promised at the previous night’s ball that he would meet her by the river, in a tiny meadow, so that they could finally be together - away from prying eyes and talk about their future together. She finally reached Fox Forest, giddy as a school girl and not someone who was nearly one and twenty years old.
She still couldn’t believe it had been nearly two fortnights since he danced with her at the Blossom’s Annual Harvest Ball, stealing her heart and her first kiss that night. She had never met anyone quite like Forsythe Pendleton Jones the Third before in her life.
He was dark and mysterious, seemingly content to skim along in the shadows and watch people rather than be in the spotlight. The last few weeks had been filled with stolen glances, brushes of the hand as they passed by, and even a few more forbidden kisses when no one was watching them. This man had awoken something deep inside her soul causing her to ache in the most deliciously scandalous way.
She had been taught by her mother that proper young ladies do not touch themselves sexually, not with their husbands and especially not alone. It was considered deviant and disturbing behavior and did no more than sully a girl’s womanhood.
However after first meeting Forsythe, Elizabeth couldn’t stop herself. She remembers running to her cousin Jane’s bedchambers almost immediately after his lips had parted from hers, her heart racing and her undergarments becoming moist in a way she had never felt before.
Once she was safely away from prying eyes, she bunched up her muslin dress, shoving her hand into her bloomers to find that her femininity had become slick and tender. It only took moments before she was frantically seeking friction, exploring herself like she never had before.
She felt something strange but exciting beginning to form in her belly and before long it felt as if her entire body had exploded inside her skin. She had never felt anything so blissful, her mind still on the cobalt blue eyes of the exotic new stranger to Riverdale.
Every night since she has repeated the same process, bringing herself to nirvana under the cover of darkness, always imagining that it was someone else’s hands entirely. She wasn’t sure what to expect today, all she knew was that she needed to feel as much of him against her as possible. She didn’t care about propriety anymore, all she cared about was her love and how it would feel to be with him.
“It’s not very proper for a young lady such as yourself to be wandering the woods alone at night without a chaperone. Especially dressed in nothing more than a mere dress gown and chemise.” Forsythe smiled while stepping closer to her, his face alight with joy at seeing her in such a causal state of dress.
“Mr. Jones!” Elizabeth gasped, clutching her hand over her heart. She could see that he was in a similar state of undress causing her to clutch her thighs together, trying to ease the ache between them. He stood before her in nothing more than his trousers and untucked nightshirt, the buttons opened slightly at the top to reveal his pale chest. Her face grew hot at the sight of so much of his delicious flesh being exposed to her.
“My darling Elizabeth. How many times must I ask that you call me by a more informal name? Please darling, call me Forsythe. Please.” His voice came out a rasp, his eyes darkening as he stepped closer to her. Betty couldn’t stop herself, she had too much need for him to care how familiar they were being towards one another.
She crashed her lips into his, devouring him as he spread his lips welcoming her kiss. Elizabeth ran one hand under his shirt, feeling the plain of his chest and stomach while the other snaked into his soft, unruly curls. She had never wanted to rip his clothing off before as much as she wants to now. Reluctantly, she pulled away and rested their foreheads together, her hands holding his face as their breaths mingled together.
“Oh my love, I have missed you greatly. That house has been an absolute nightmare these past few days. After the debacle with my brother, Charles, my mother and father have been pushing me to marry that brute, Lord Mantle. What will we do, my love? Father has already said he would not approve of our match, but I cannot be parted from you. My heart could not take it, I would rather die.” Elizabeth began to cry, not able to keep herself from spiraling.
Forsythe threaded his hands with hers, ensuring that she could not pierce the skin, and kissed her forehead in comfort.
“Shh, hush now, love. I will not allow anyone or anything, human or otherwise, to keep us apart. You have my word.” He paused, brushing a loose curl from her cheek. “You believe me, do you not Elizabeth?” Forsythe lifted her chin with his fingers, forcing her to look into his eyes. She nodded but he could see the doubt still clear in her eyes.
“Come with me, my sweet Elizabeth. I have something I would like to show you. I believe I have a way for us to be together, but you must trust me completely.” He said, staring into her eyes.
“I do,” she replied without hesitation.
Forsythe smiled, kissing her again before whisking her away to the hidden meadow just on the other side of the river from his manor. He was afraid of how she would react, afraid of what she would think of him after she knew the truth of his existence, upon knowing what he really was. Once they reached the meadow, he turned to her and sighed, the moon shining a silvery light on them and the river singing them a serenade.
“Elizabeth, there is something I must tell you and I fear how you will take the news, my love.” Her eyes grew worried, afraid he may say he did not want her as she wanted him. “I am not what I may seem, my darling. I speak in earnest when I say I am afraid that you will flee from me once you know the truth.” Tears pricked his eyes, a few running down his cheeks. She gently placed her hand to his face, her thumb swiping them away.
“It’s alright.. Nothing you could tell me would make me leave you.” She smiled, trying to ease his concerns. He sighed and pulled her down with him, wrapping his arms around her so that she was in his lap as he sat on the damp grass.
“Just remember that after I’ve told you the truth, and please, let me finish before you speak, okay?” Forsythe asked, his nose burrowing into her hair. As he began to speak again, a very noticeable Scottish accent began to bleed through.
“Aye love, my name is Forsythe Pendleton Jones, but I am not the third. I am simply Forsythe Jones, the first and only Forsythe of my clan. I was born in the winter of 998 AD to William and Elspeth Jones and grew up just outside of Selkirkshire. My mother was the daughter of Bróccin and Isbell Forsyth, leaders of the lowland clan Forsyth. On my day of birth, in my 20th year, I was sent into the forest to retrieve supplies before the first snowfall. Instead, I was met by the most devilishly beautiful creature I had seen in my young days. Before I could even gather my wits about me, she descended upon me and began to feed on my very life force.” He paused briefly at the memory of his rebirth before he continued on, not daring to pull away to look at Elizabeth yet.
“Just before she had taken my life completely, she slit her wrist and forced me to drink from her. She told me later it was her 'annual birthing ritual'. It was a night where she would hunt for the perfect specimen and turn them, ensuring the preservation of our kind. After that, she took me in for a few hundred years until I was able to survive in this new world on my own. We occasionally send each other letters though it is usually sometime between missives. I came to America in the early 1600's, helped defend the colonies during the Revolution, and have amassed my immense fortune over the years. My kind, we have lived in the shadows for centuries. Not because the sunlight harms us, but simply because it drains our powers too quickly and increases our need to feed more often.” Forsythe finally looked into Elizabeth’s eyes, afraid of seeing rejection or fear floating in them, but instead finding wonder.
“Are you?” She paused, the sound of her pulse racing sending jolts to his cock. “A Vampyre?”
He watched as she licked her lips, astonishment written on her face before she brought his lips to meet hers again. After a moment he pulled away, confused. “While I will always appreciate kissing you mo ghràidh, are you not afraid of me?”
“No, I could never fear you. I must admit, I have read everything I could about vampyres that I could get my hands on, in secret of course. Mother would have my head if she knew I had such...peculiar tastes.” Elizabeth swung her legs onto either side of Forsythe’s body, trapping him under her. “So if you were born in 998, that makes you over 800 years old then?”
“820 to be exact, including my 20 years as a human. Does that...does the age difference bother you, Elizabeth?” He asked, dropping out of his accent as if it wasn’t there to begin with. He studied her face for a moment before flashing her his fangs in a sinful grin. Elizabeth shook her head and pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, instinctively grinding down on his lap.
"No, I am not afraid. I am intrigued.," she purred. "Does this mean you are...skilled in the ways between a man and a woman?" she whispered, looking away as she blushed.
He turned her head to look at her and nodded. "Does that upset you, my love?"
"No. Most gentlemen are made men while they are still but boys. It is simply just the way of the world. But, could you, maybe...show me? How it feels to be with a man?" Elizabeth held her breath, hoping that he wouldn't think her a trollop. She watched his eyes darkened and his fangs grow sharper, thoughts of her coming around him flooding his mind.
"I will show you all the wonders that a man's earthly body has to offer, my darling. But only if you agree to do something for me in return." Forsythe cupped her face in his hands affectionately and smiled.
"My dearest Elizabeth, my life before you entered it was dark and lonely. I never knew love before you, neither in my mortal or immortal life. I ask you: mo ghràidh, my darling Elizabeth, will you agree to be my wife?" Elizabeth grinned, launching herself against him to feast on his lips.
“Is that a yes, love?” Forsythe smiled against her mouth. Elizabeth deepened the kiss, wrapping her arms tighter around his neck and laughing.
“Yes, I will marry you, my darling,” she whispered before she tensed in his arms, “but how ever will we do this? My parents will never allow us to be wed.” She knew how her father believed and he would never allow a Blossom to marry someone that was so exponentially different from them.
“I will take care of everything, sweet Elizabeth. All you need do is agree and we can be together forever.” He moaned, running his tongue along the curvature of her neck. “My love, I want to show you how good I can make you feel. Would that be alright?” he asked, grazing his fangs along her jawline.
“Y-yes, please. But Forsythe, can you...um...can you speak to me with your accent? I find it quite...stimulating.” Elizabeth blushed, the tips of her ears going red thinking of how hearing him speak in his native language caused the moisture to pool at the apex of her thighs that much more.
He whispered, “Aye, mo ghràidh, as you wish.” Forsythe grinned, feeling free to be his true self for the first time in centuries. Forsythe picked her up straight from a sitting position, his strength and agility making Elizabeth gasp. “Do you trust me?” He asked. Elizabeth nodded briefly before he pressed her up against a tree on the outskirts of the clearing.
“I’m going to show you a glimpse of how good I can make you feel once we are wed. Would that be something you would want, Elizabeth?” He breathed, lowering his forehead to meet hers. Elizabeth nodded frantically, her mind too lost in lust to form words at the moment.
“I love you.” He simply said as he dropped to his knees in front of her. She shivered in anticipation, watching him run his hands below her dressing gown and then under her chemise to grab the edges of her bloomers, slowly pulling them off of her. She gasped again when she felt the cool night air hit her womanhood, the evidence of her arousal glistening for him to see.
Forsythe looked up at her, silently asking permission, which she freely gave, before he grabbed her thighs and hoisted her up. Her legs were planted firmly over his shoulders and her sex spread wide for him. She watched as he licked his lips then slowly dragged his tongue up her slit, groaning at the taste.
Elizabeth’s hips bucked involuntarily but it didn’t deter him. He flicked his tongue across her tender clit before he latched on and suckled on the swollen flesh, causing Elizabeth to cry out in pleasure.
“F-Forsythe, I-I-I.” She trembled, coherent thought not a possibility while his mouth did unholy things to her sex.
She felt his slender fingers drag up the backside of her thigh while he continued to feast on her and she began to feel a tightening in her stomach. Once he reached her dripping femininity, he inserted a single finger into her tight cunt and began to ease it into her, driving her wild. Elizabeth grabbed handfuls of his hair as she felt herself beginning to come apart, her carnal instincts taking over as she rode his face without care until she felt herself tense and euphoria wash over her.
Forsythe had never tasted nectar so sweet, as if she was the forbidden fruit and he was the sinner taking a taste. He inserted a second finger into her slick heat, earning him more breathy moans from her lips. He continued to alternate between sucking her clit and rubbing his face all over her pussy so that she would be all that he could smell. He could feel that she was close to ecstasy a second time so he latched onto her button again and drove his fingers into her frantically to draw it out of her once more.
“Forsythe, p-please, I feel so strang-.” Elizabeth sobbed before tumbling again, coming with such force that her essence coated his face and ran down his chin. She had never felt such pleasure before in her life, stars bursting behind her eyes as she felt a yet another orgasm crashing over her.
As she came down from her high, she tugged his hair trying to indicate that she was too sensitive to continue and looked down at him. His eyes were blown black, his fangs protruding, her juices covering his face and torso. “That...that was...it was incredible,” she panted, clutching her bundled dressing gown and chemise against her chest.
Forsythe slowly lowered her to the ground, her legs quivering as he sat her feet on the ground. He pulled himself off the ground, wiping his face on his shirt sleeve. The hunger in his eyes made Elizabeth tremble again, his lips capturing hers in a passionate kiss. She sighed at the taste of herself on his tongue, her hands digging into his dark curls while he hooked her legs around his hips. He pressed his cock against her still throbbing heat, the only thing separating them from becoming one was the fabric of his trousers.
“Elizabeth love, I want you more than I have ever wanted anyone else in all of my existence. However, I fear we must slow down or I might lose control and take you right here and now before we can be wed.” He groaned as he felt her grinding against him, the need to rut becoming overwhelming. She panted against his neck, her breaths erratic and labored as she tried to regain control of herself.
“Is there anything...I mean, can I do anything for you?” Elizabeth whispered shyly against his neck, her hand running down his body to rub his bulge over his trousers. She lifted her head to look into his eyes and smiled mischievously. He began to protest but she continued anyway.
“There is something I overheard my mother and my Aunt speaking of once when they thought my sister and I were attending to our studies, and I have always been extremely curious about it. Would you indulge me and my curiosity, my dear husband to be?” He nodded, settling her back on her feet.
Elizabeth turned him, pressing him against the maple tree, her lips capturing his once again. She fumbled with the buttons of the front flat of his trousers, slightly nervous at the prospect of seeing a man intimately for the first time.
She gasped as the offending material fell open, his engorged manhood springing free into the night. Her mother had never given her lessons or instructions on how a wife is to please her husband, as she believed that it wasn’t a necessary decision until right before one’s wedding night. But once, she had heard her mother speaking of how some of the other wives in the township had found that using their mouths to please their husbands during their delicate times would help keep them from having a wandering eye.
Elizabeth was in awe of him as she reached for his velvety shaft, finding it warm and silky in her hands when she pumped it up and down. Forsythe hissed, grabbing her loose curls and tugging ever so gently at the new sensation. Elizabeth looked up to watch him, head thrown back in pleasure while she stroked him. She felt her desire pooling between her thighs again as she tentatively licked the pearly bead at the tip of his swollen head. The taste was salty and a bit bitter, but she wanted to taste it again.
Without wasting another moment, Elizabeth drew him into her mouth and began suckling at the tip. Forsythe moaned, “Tha, mo gu bràth ,” as Elizabeth took more of him into her mouth, growing eager and more bold from the sounds escaping his throat. She felt powerful, desired. Like he was Adam and she Eve, sharing their passions in their own personal Eden.
Elizabeth gasped as she felt Forsythe thrust into her mouth, causing her to gag slightly, but she didn’t stop. She continued on until she felt his muscles tighten as he cried out her name, a salty warmth filling her mouth. Seeing that he was out of breath and disheveled, she instinctively swallowed his seed before smiling up at him.
“Was that alright, my Lord?” She asked, innocently batting her lashes up at him.
Forsythe picked her up off the dirt and crashed his lips to hers. “Aye, it was perfect.”
“I must return before Mother and Father realize I am no longer on the estate, my love. When will I see you again?” Elizabeth asked, her heart aching to stay with her fiance.
“I will prepare everything for the ceremony and will call on you two nights hence and we shall make our departure to Seaside. I have a home overlooking the cliffs that I believe you will find breathtaking, my darling.” Jughead crashed his lips to hers again. “Until we meet again, mo chridhe.”