Page 5 of A Very Surrey SFS Christmas

Love was worth the chance. The risk had reaped the best possible reward.

“Miss Irving,” said Amelia softly. “You make me blush with such a tender gaze, but you are also withholding your tongue, which I find most unsporting.”

“Cannot have that,” replied Beatrice, squeezing her thighs together against a wave of lust as her lover again tilted her hips in blatant invitation.

Deliberately taking her time, she sat forward on the squab and trailed her fingertips up Amelia’s stocking-clad legs until they reached the garters. Then she began stroking the sensitive bare skin of her inner thighs.

Amelia whimpered, spreading them wide, and the delicious scent of wet pussy filled the carriage. But scent wasn’t enough. She needed that spicy honey in her mouth.

Moving to kneel on the floor of the swaying carriage, Beatrice braced a hand on each of Amelia’s thighs. Then she leaned down, teasing her lover with a brief kiss to the top of her mound, brushing the tangle of blonde bush but not parting it to attend to her swollen clitoris.

“Beatrice. Lick my pussy. Make me come. Please.”

She smiled at the desperation in Amelia’s voice, knowing exactly what her dearest needed to make her gasp and writhe and cry out in ecstasy.

“Patience, Miss Tilton. I’m exploring. But you should probably cover your mouth,” she murmured wickedly, nuzzling the crisp hair again, before parting it with a finger and lashing the slick pink flesh with her tongue.

Amelia moaned, the guttural sound muffled by her hand. But Beatrice offered no quarter, fastening her lips around Amelia’s clitoris and sucking the swollen bud until her lover bucked and ground her pussy against Beatrice’s chin.

“Ohhh,” said Amelia eventually. “Bea, that was…oh heavens, again?”

Without replying, she licked a trail down the folds of Amelia’s labia until she reached her entrance. Then Beatrice pushed her tongue inside, reveling in the delectable flavor of pussy and the sound of Amelia’s panting gasps, an unspoken plea to be brought to orgasm a second time. How powerful it felt, giving Amelia such intense pleasure.

Settling into an easy rhythm of advance and retreat, Beatrice fucked Amelia’s pussy with her tongue while gently circling her swollen clitoris with a single fingertip. Knowing her lover would be helpless to the sensations, she hastened the tempo of her tongue and increased the pressure of her fingertip. Amelia came with a choked cry, the inner walls of her pussy clenching and releasing hard as waves of ecstasy overtook her again.

Amelia blinked dazed eyes. “Bea.”

“Merry nearly-Christmas, my love,” she replied with a grin.

“I want…I want to pleasure you now. Do you wish my mouth? My fingers?”

Beatrice shivered, so close to orgasm herself she could scarcely bear it. Licking Amelia’s pussy always aroused her, as though somehow they were connected and the sensations shared. “Your fingers. Hard and deep.”

In the confines of the swaying carriage, it was easier to turn and brace herself on the opposite squab, facing away from Amelia. Soon her knees rested against the edge of the cream leather, her hands flat on the wall of the carriage, and she waited in an agony of expectation as Amelia folded up her gown until her stocking-clad legs and bottom were fully exposed.

“You know,” Amelia mused from behind her, trailing a fingernail across bare skin, “I am, and always will be, an ardent admirer of your backside.”

“Why thank you,” Beatrice managed, biting her lip so she didn’t beg. The light scratch, the scent of her own wetness, the inability to see what was happening…almost overwhelming.

Then two fingers teased her clitoris, and a low cry of acute need burst from her lips. Amelia had become so very proficient at this, swirling and dipping two fingers, ensuring they were slick with juices. But nothing could improve the sensation of being penetrated, of those skilled and delicate fingers inside her pussy, rubbing that spot just beyond her entrance that made her scream with pleasure. Well, nothing other than a faster, deeper cadence of course.

Beatrice tried to muffle her cries in the crook of her arm, but Amelia remained tenderly ruthless and added a third finger, fucking her pussy hard. She soared to the stars, turned inside out and upside down as waves of bliss shook her entire body.

When at last she recovered her senses, Amelia had righted her gown and moved to sit next to her on the seat.

“I don’t know how,” Beatrice said breathlessly, as they cuddled together, “but each time it gets better.”

Amelia nodded, her expression thoughtful. “I think because we talk. We know what we like, and care very much about each other’s pleasure. Giving and receiving. It always feels so…so right.”

“And we love each other madly.”

“Indeed, there is that,” said Amelia with a contented sigh. “Also, we have perfect timing. There are the gates to the manor. Oh dear. Do we look like we just fucked in this carriage?”

Beatrice laughed. “Hopefully our cloaks will hide the worse gown wrinkles. Let me smooth your hair…”

Minutes later, the carriage pulled up in front of the manor. When they climbed out, their close friend Lady Madeline Dare stood on the steps cradling her snugly wrapped and sweetly sleeping newborn daughter Jessica.

“Well, good afternoon you two,” Madeline began, before her gray eyes took on an unholy glint. “I’m just waiting for the men, they went to fetch the yule log. Susanna is in the nursery with David, Lady Portia is supervising ballroom preparations, Fairfield is giving her advice, and I believe Mittens is enjoying a large saucer of cream. You have time to dash upstairs and change your gowns.”

“Whatever for?” asked Amelia, batting her lashes.

The titian-haired beauty hooted. “You think I don’t recognize evidence of carriage fucking when I see it? Good grief. I don’t know why we bother with careful gown folding. It never helps.”

They all laughed. One of the most wonderful things about the Society members, all were so accepting and open-minded, so generous and fun, and often discussed topics that would send the stuffier men and women of the ton into full swoon.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” said Beatrice. “My dearest and I are the ones history will forever insist are just good friends.”

“Quite,” said Madeline, rolling her eyes. “Now go and change those gowns. I’ll see you soon.”

And with that, Beatrice clasped Amelia’s hand, and they strolled into the manor.

As always, in perfect step.