Turn and receive me, Lucy

"Lucy, Lady Downs," Edmund said, the tears running down his cheeks. "I am your man. Turn and receive me...sister."

"With my heart, Edmund," Lucy said. "Brother. Take me. Be my man." She turned again to face the copper wash basin and lifted her skirts, bending forward to present herself.

Edmund gazed at Lucy's naked rump. Soft and pale, with strong muscles underneath from Lucy's years of fetching and carrying, her hair-fringed lips swollen and gaping open to the deepest wet pink to welcome him. Beautiful. He'd never taken notice. He aimed and pressed forward, taking her again. Taking her for the first time.

"Take me," Lucy groaned. "Bring us joy."

Edmund started a slow rhythm, waiting for Lucy's desire to respond, finally using what he had been taught by the finest women of pleasure, taking Lucy as a wife, as he did Clarissa. He savored the slow wet slide in and out and listened to the hiss and tremble in her sighs. The scent of Lucy's arousal was unmistakable, as was the obscene squishing sound of her wetness. Her face in the mirror was a portrait of desire, her lips parted, her eyes hooded, her cheeks flushed. How had he never known? Never seen? There had never been a mirror. When Lucy's hips started to respond with involuntary twitches, he reached down for the pearl in her oyster. Touched. Rubbed.

Lucy's eyes flew wide open. "Yes!" she cried.

Lucy's sex clamped down tight on Edmund's prick. Edmund watched her face as the revelation of pleasure transported her to heaven. Her head tilted back, preparing for a climactic scream.