by Liana Lefey
Unable to help herself, she peeked at the mirror again. All embarrassment fled as she gazed upon the most erotic thing she’d ever seen, replaced by exhilaration at the sight of herself, lips parted, cheeks flushed, astride this powerful man who’d made himself vulnerable for her pleasure. She stared, knowing she’d never forget that moment as it was seared into her memory.
A muffled sigh from below dragged her attention back to the man beneath her. The backside view provided by her new vantage was an impressive one, too. Blackthorn’s arse was, like the rest of him, lean and muscular. Leaning across it, she began spreading the oil across his shoulders, slowly working her way down, the heels of her hands pressing in, her fingers kneading warm, solid flesh. Her naked pelvis pressed against his rear every time she moved upward, and the sensation made her bite her lower lip.
By the time she’d covered his entire back and buttocks, she felt almost feverish. But she still wasn’t ready for the endgame quite yet. Her own desire was a sinful ache, but she was patient. This might be her only time with him, and she wanted it to be memorable in the best way.
Now that her hands had touched him, had felt the velvet-over-granite of his shoulders and back, they wanted to feel so much more. Tingling palms longed to run over his entire body. Rising up, she again moved to his side.
“Turn over onto your back,” she whispered. Again, he obeyed, sending another twinge of excitement through her. She checked to be sure his eyes remained securely covered. “Now bring your hands up beside your head.” When he’d done this, she took the two remaining scarves and used them to tie his wrists to the thick wooden pillars carved into the bed’s sturdy oaken headboard, remembering to knot them the way Harrow had shown her.
The faint smile twitching the corners of Blackthorn’s mouth told her he was enjoying this. Again, she plied his body with the scented oil, careful to avoid his more sensitive areas. Once the oil had been worked in, she selected from the little pile of feathers a long goose quill.
The instant its tip touched his face, he stiffened. Muscles bunched and slowly released.
“Good,” she encouraged softly. “This is not meant to tickle. If it does, you must tell me and I’ll stop.”
A hard breath huffed from him before he nodded, and she marked with satisfaction that his smirk had fled. She ran the feather’s edge across his cheekbones and forehead, and then dragged it across his lips, watching them part slightly. Bending, she dropped a lingering kiss there to reward him for his tolerance.
Next came the strong cords of his neck and his finely sculpted collarbone. Her own arousal mounted when she moved the feather lower and slowly circled one of his nipples with its tip. His breath hitched, and he stiffened—in more than one place. Not only did his back arch slightly, but his cock leapt a little, as if begging to be touched.
Soon. Smiling, she again dragged the feather across his nipples, circling them until his breathing grew rough, and she could see he was growing impatient with her playing. This time when she resumed tormenting the most recently neglected nipple, she stopped after only a few circles and covered it with her mouth.
A long hiss exploded from between Blackthorn’s clenched teeth as he jerked hard. His hands pulled reflexively at the bindings but remained secure as she did to him what he’d done to her earlier, with little flicks, long licks, and delicate pinches.
Small, strangled sounds came from between his lips, as though they were escaping against his will. She paused, but he didn’t utter the stop word. This time when she repeated her actions, he let out a long, filthy moan. When his exhalations were nothing more than ragged gasps, his wrists pulling almost rhythmically at the silken restraints, his hips bucking up a little with each pull, then she stopped.
Straightening, she licked a fingertip and circled it around one abused nipple. From the corner of her eye, she saw his cock jerk. Feeling brave, she looked at the instrument of her planned undoing, fascinated. Long and turgid, it curved up from its thick base to rise up off him, its rounded head hovering just above his taut belly. Afraid yet to actually touch it, she again took up her feather and tentatively ran it up its length to gently circle the head.
Another profane groan issued forth from Blackthorn, sounding as if torn from the very root of his soul, and she saw a bead of clear liquid form at the very tip of his rod, which, amazingly, seemed to thicken further before her eyes. Mesmerized, she dragged the tip of the feather through the pearl and drew it down to the base of his cock, leaving a long, wet line.
“I’m a patient man,” rasped Blackthorn, startling her. He sounded wrecked. “But if you don’t touch me soon, I won’t be responsible for my reaction.”
Triumph surged through her in a heady rush, along with a frisson of trepidation. I must maintain control. Focusing, she hardened her voice. “Would you have me curtail your pleasure?”
An animal sound lodged in his throat, and she watched the bob of his Adam’s apple as he swallowed it. “Of course not. But I should tell you, the disappointment won’t be solely mine if it happens too soon.”
Oh! She smiled and softened her tone. “You have but to say the word, and I’ll stop.”
His low, crushed-gravel chuckle was an almost tangible thing. “If you think I’ll break first, you’ll be waiting until dawn.”
We’ll see about that. Emboldened by the challenge, she leaned over him and, just as she’d heard René say once when the door hadn’t quite shut properly between their rooms, whispered against his lips, “Be a good lad now, and spread your legs for me.”
The flush across his chest deepened to scarlet, and she saw a muscle work in his jaw as he doubtless bit back a curse—but he did it. By George, he did it.
Repositioning, she knelt between his long, strong legs, running her hands up and down them to learn their shape. Staring up at him, she decided she quite liked the view from here. She could see almost all of him, from the secret, dusky flesh just below his sack to the underside of his clean-shaven jaw and chin.
Determined not to be a coward, she scrunched her eyes shut, then reached out and firmly grasped the base of his cock in one hand, getting her first feel of what would soon be inside her. At its owner’s hard flinch and soft, relieved groan, she cracked open first one eye, then the other, and grinned. “Shhh, quiet now,” she softly admonished, inordinately proud of herself for not backing away from this.
He stiffened but kept silent as she slowly stroked him up and down, exploring his flesh with her palm and fingers. It was a strange amalgam of hard and soft, like hot stone sheathed in fine silk.
Do I dare? Leaning forward slowly, she released him to run her hands over his abdomen and up across his chest and shoulders while contemplating her course. It was something she’d been told men absolutely loved. Certainly, Harrow and René had both professed to enjoy it immensely. But would she? Only one way to find out. Without preamble, she slid backward, dipped low, and took the head of his cock into her mouth at the same time as she again gripped its base with her free hand.
“Mmngahhh!” The hoarse outcry was torn from Blackthorn’s chest, and his back arched so hard it lifted his shoulder blades up off the bed.
Releasing him, she braced her hands on his hips and shoved, using her body’s weight to push him back into the mattress. The taste of his hot, firm flesh lingered on her tongue, slightly salty with a faint underlying tang that was not unpleasant. This time when she went back down, she dipped lower to lick a broad, wet stripe from the underside of his cock all the way to its tip before again taking the head into her mouth.
Blackthorn positively writhed beneath her hands, his hips jerking upward in little involuntary thrusts.
Again, she released him. This was going to get uncomfortable if he kept doing that. There had to be a way to make him stay down. A memory arose, something she’d seen in Harrow’s Hindu text. Smiling, she began slowly working one hand up and down his rigid length, granting him some small relief. When a large bead of liquid formed at its tip and began to slow
ly drip down the side, she stopped it with a swipe of her index finger instead of using it to ease the friction as she continued to slowly pump him.
She had a better use for it.
Blackthorn yelped, actually yelped when she touched that slicked-up fingertip to the soft patch of flesh Harrow had identified as the “perineum” on the drawing he’d shown her. She paused, but though Blackthorn’s breathing caught and hitched, he didn’t say the stop word, so she continued, sliding that finger down a fraction of an inch at a time, down, down, until she was able to ever-so-gently circle his opening.
…
Lucas had thought he was prepared for this, that he’d known what to expect.
This wasn’t it.
He’d been with women of every class—tavern wenches, farmers’ daughters, whores, and more than a dozen ladies (mostly married, a few widows) from his own stratum—but none had managed to unravel him.
Until now.
He’d expected her to pleasure him with her mouth, but not like this. Not as if he were a banquet set out for her delectation. Not as if she was actually enjoying herself. The women he’d lain with to date had all made it very plain they loathed the act of giving fellatio. He couldn’t see Diana’s face, but he could tell by the smile in her voice when she spoke, the little humming sounds she occasionally made, and the way she was touching him—almost lovingly—that she was pleased with what she was doing.
That thought alone made him even harder.
And now that she’d released him, she’d taken his own slick and was using it to stimulate him down…there. For one terrible moment, he’d worried she might be thinking to prepare him for something he truly didn’t want to do—and wouldn’t—but she’d done nothing more than touch him in gentle circles.
It felt different, but not bad.
In fact, it was starting to feel pretty damned good, actually.
He revised this opinion when she abandoned his hole to press two fingers firmly into the spongy flesh between it and his bollocks and began moving them from side to side, wringing an involuntary grunt of pleasure from him as a rush of tingly fire raced from that point straight up his cock, which was now leaking copiously, and back down to settle deep beneath its root. A sweet ache had taken up residence there, pulsing in time to the long, firm strokes she was now giving his rod with her other hand.
No. This went beyond pretty damned good—this was bloody amazing, that’s what it was. As much as he wasn’t attracted to the fellow, in that particular moment he could have kissed Harrow out of sheer gratitude for having shaped a timid little debutante into this glorious, sensual creature.
Her hot mouth closed once more over the tip of his cock, her tongue swirling across its head, tasting him as if he were some sort of delicious confection. The air burst from his lungs again, pulling with it another long groan from somewhere deep down within his vitals. He’d wanted so badly to taste her sweetness when he’d taken Cupid’s feast, but hadn’t expected her to want to reciprocate, and certainly not with such…enthusiasm.
And there, my lad, is the difference between a high-class courtesan and a common harlot. Duly noted.
Right then he decided it was going to be worth every penny he was going to have to pay for her doubtless expensive upkeep. He’d support her in whatever style she demanded until the gold either ran out or he grew too old and feeble to get it up anymore.
Another blue curse clawed its way out of his throat on a gasp as she suddenly sucked hard on his head and simultaneously pressed a slick digit against his opening—just held it there at the same time as she bore down with the pad of her thumb just above it and wiggled it from side to side—and the river of tingles intensified.
Just when he thought he was going to lose control, she eased off with a soft pop and lifted her hand away. He drifted back from the edge of the precipice, gulping air like he’d been drowning. Then, with a siren’s chuckle, she was at it again with that fingertip, circling, circling.
She was going to drive him insane. For the second time that evening he’d nearly come undone, and he needed to be inside her before that happened. The last thing he wanted was to shame himself by not bringing her to peak first. Or worse. If she took him in her mouth and did that thing again, there was a real danger of him coming untouched the moment she pulled off. He anticipated going several rounds before the night was done, but first impressions mattered to him.
Enough. He wanted to see her, to verify that she was truly enjoying this as much as he suspected, and then get down to the happy business of plowing her like a fallow field.
He balked at making the request, but then reminded himself that asking wasn’t the same as begging. “The blindfold—” Bloody hell, his throat was dry!
She tenderly cupped his firm, aching sack and began to gently massage there. It felt wonderful. But he couldn’t afford to let himself be distracted. “Take it off.”
Yet another gasp was wrung from him as she ignored his request and slid her other thumb up through the slickness coating the head of his cock and pressed down, covering the slit.
Remembering the approval that had warmed her eyes when he’d meekly complied with her commands before being rendered blind, he added a polite, “Please?”
“You want to see me?” She sounded almost shy, which he knew was a damned lie.
“Yes, I want to see you,” he said, doing his level best not to let any of his desperation come through in his voice. His pulse thundered in his ears, thumping so hard he could feel his heartbeat in every one of his extremities. See you, touch you, take you, make you mine…
The mattress shifted beneath him as she changed position. Then her fingers were sliding through his hair and removing the silk that had obstructed his vision.
What he saw when his eyes finally focused had to be a figment of his imagination. No woman who’d just done what she’d done to him could look that ingenuous. Her jewel-like eyes held none of the sultry teasing he’d heard in her voice. Nor did they hold the demanding woman who’d told him to shush. She looked entirely unspoiled. Yet he knew better. He saw the swollen lips, the blown pupils, the flushed cheeks. She was the best kind of contradiction.
He couldn’t help smiling just a little as he asked, “Untie me?” Had he truly been inclined, he could’ve torn free of the flimsy silk, but it was more fun this way.
Twin crescents of thick, burnished gold lashes lowered demurely, and she nodded.
He stared up at her as she stretched across him to unbind the far hand first. Once untethered, still he held back, denying himself the pleasure of touching her for just a little longer while he mastered himself. “You’re still wearing stockings,” he observed, holding her unwavering gaze as she settled back on her knees. “Take them off?”
Rising, she backed off the bed and stood to oblige.
His cock grew impossibly hard as he watched her bend to untie the garters and peel the silk sheaths off one at a time. “Come here,” he rasped when she was done, holding out his hand.
Chapter Fifteen
Diana’s insides shook as she took the final step and joined him on the bed. He drew her close for a breath-stealing kiss that made her feel boneless, and then she found herself pressed beneath his nakedness from shoulders to toes, their legs entwined. She stroked her fingertips down his long back, squeezed his taut buttocks, then dragged her nails lightly back up his flanks to wrap her arms around his neck and hold on for dear life as he continued to kiss her senseless.
She was drowning in desire. The rigid length of him lay caught between their bodies, digging into her pelvis, thick and heavy. He shifted a little, and the pressure changed. It was no longer nudging at her middle, but sliding against the swollen, heated flesh below.
His voice at her ear was thick with passion. “Lady’s choice the first time. Tell me how you want me.”
When she failed to answer immediately, he drew back a little and peered down at her, the question in his smoke-colored eyes. “You’ve brought me such pleas
ure,” he murmured. “But I want to please you, too, you know. It’s a point of pride with me that my bedpartner should take equal enjoyment.”
Warmth blossomed in her chest. “I like the way we are now,” she whispered, feeling suddenly insecure. Would he think it too ordinary?
The smile that broke across his face was the most endearing she’d ever seen on any man. “As do I. And we’ll still have plenty of time for more adventurous games before the sun rises.” With that, he rose up on his haunches between her legs, propped her legs up to bracket his waist, and reached down between them.
She expected to feel him positioning the blunt head of his cock at her entrance, but instead felt the light caress of his fingertips bathing in her slickness, dipping in and teasing the sensitive little nub concealed within her innermost folds. Sighing, she gave herself up to the happy sensation, letting him build her back up to fever pitch.
Only when she began to wriggle her hips in mindless frustration did he stop.
Now she closed her eyes, willing herself not to tense up as he reached beneath her bottom and slid her a little closer until she felt his manhood bump against her thigh, and then as something hard, hot, and silky smooth touched her core.
The expected pain didn’t come when he leaned into the cradle between her thighs to bring his head up to her breasts and suckle first one and then the other, making her gasp as the lightning connection between nipples and core sizzled back to life. Or as he then shifted farther up and pressed his cock snugly against her slick opening.
She buried her face in the curve of his neck as he began to enter her. There was only a little discomfort as she felt him nudge against something a little way in. It didn’t exactly hurt, but it also didn’t really seem to want to easily yield.
The man above her suddenly stilled. “Diana…”
Her heart slammed against her ribcage, and panic won out. Wrapping her legs around his waist, she pulled their bodies together in one quick motion, unbalancing him so that his full weight fell against her.