AllFreeNovel
Share Us
He dipped his fingers between her legs, stroking her in the most intimate of places.
She was wet, but she found that did not shame her either. He had made commentary about that. About her wetness. And he had made it only sound like a good thing. Something that pleased him. And she did so wish to please him.
He turned her to face him, and all the breath left her body in an exquisite rush as he examined her. His eyes filled with an intensity that she gloried in.
This was not the cold examination of a doctor. This was the desirous look of a man.
He took two steps away from her, never taking his eyes off her as he sat down in a chair positioned by the fireplace in her bedchamber. Without taking his eyes from hers his hands moved to the falls of his breeches, and he opened them. And her throat tightened, went dry, as he drew himself from his clothing. He was... Well, as suspected, the statuary in the garden had nothing to recommend it when compared to Briggs.
He was large and thick, and... He was beautiful.
How she longed to see all of his body, completely uncovered for her pleasure. But she had a feeling it was something she would have to earn. And she would do her very best. He said he was going to teach her to pleasure him, and suddenly she wanted that more than she wanted anything else. More than she had ever wanted anything before.
‘Come to me,’ he said.
‘Yes,’ she said.
‘Your Grace,’ he said.
She recognised that it was a correction. Firm and gentle. And it made her feel...everything.
‘Yes, Your Grace.’
A smile curved his lips, and she took that short trip to stand right in front of him, feeling deliciously exposed beneath the intensity of his gaze.
‘Get to your knees,’ he said.
She obeyed, without thought, going down to her knees in front of him.
‘Good,’ he said. ‘I’m going to teach you how to pleasure me. I want you to take me in your mouth.’
She was not shocked. After all, he had done the same to her in the garden and it had been exquisite. Why should he not enjoy the same intimacies? Their bodies were not the same, but surely there must be something in the taking of pleasure that they had in common.
And she wanted to... She wanted to give him some measure of what he had given to her. She did. She wanted him to feel the glory that she had felt. And if she could do for him what he had done for her, she would feel...
If she could make him shake, if she could make him cry out. If she could make his body unravel itself at that moment of release, then she would do so. It was all she wanted in that moment. The ultimate test of her strength.
And so she leaned forward, darting her tongue out over the head of his cock. He was lovely, and he tasted wonderful, something she would not have imagined. But she loved the feel of him beneath her tongue, beneath her hands. His skin soft and hot and hard all at once.
She had lived a life repressed. She had lived a life shut in. And this was her moment. The door was flung wide. And she was free. Running with no regard in the moonlight, her hair flying behind her as she swung as high as she wanted to on the swings. This was all of that, and it was more.
It was that thrill she had felt when she had first climbed a tree, when she had fallen. When she had sneaked away to be the person that she could only be when she was by herself. That girl who wanted to be daring. Who wanted to have everything that every other girl had.
She was that girl now. But she had Briggs. And she wasn’t alone.
She took him deep into her mouth, and revelled in the groan of pleasure that escaped his lips. She had him. She had him, as he had her.
And the realisation emboldened her.
He put his hand on her back, centred at her shoulder blades, then wrapped his fingers tightly around her hair, before twisting it around his hand, and tugging.
She cried out.
‘Don’t stop,’ he commanded. So she did not. She fought against his hold, and pinpricks of pain broke out across her scalp, delighting her, spurring her on.
And she found that his pleasure seemed to echo inside her. That his need was almost greater than her own, and the counterbalance of pain on an exquisite knife’s edge that kept her present.
He began to arch his hips up to greet her, the tip of him touching the back of her throat.
