Mr. Meisner...smiling? But, it was true, he’d changed in the short time she’d known him from a gruff, taciturn beast of a man, to this–a man who sometimes smiled. She nodded.
The smile dissolved. “How do you feel?”
Despite everything she still recalled what he’d done. Her body did too. Looking inward, she knew the way his finger had probed up inside her, the length of it invading her private place, and she throbbed with need. The slick wetness cooled her lips down there and even her thighs where skin had touched skin. She flicked her gaze at him, saw the knowing in his face–that she’d been away in that moment remembering. The world rotated in a lurch.
Whatever her place was in the universe, somehow it had slipped, and to the end of time, no matter what she did, Mr. Meisner would own a piece of her.
His hand traveled down and, positioned in the same place and the same way as before, exploded her nerves awake. The storm of pre-orgasm swept her. She bowed up into him. His hand molded to her from clitoris and along her cleft, where one finger now glided within, to the other end where her nether hole awaited...and she quivered at the abrupt possession of her body. “Oh!”
Just one more anything.
Eyes closed. The bed shifted like the sea as Mr. Meisner moved in on her.
Wet warmth surrounded her right nipple and sucked it all into a cave of heat. His mouth. Oh. My. The pulse of his thumb joined in and she strained, pushing, taking it in, the next suck on nipple, the next press and... She opened her mouth and everything broke. A roiling tumult stormed through obliterating all in a wave of white silence. And more, and more, and sound screamed back. Her belly was arched against his flesh, and she was gasping like a landed fish. She’d screamed a throat-burning scream that had rasped her throat.
Slowly, she relaxed, shuddering a few times, but muscles spent. The pillows and mattress accepted her body in their soft embrace. Heavens above. No. More. She’d turn to mush.
Except... She blinked open, shut, and he kissed her, sweet and soft. That such a big man could be so tender amazed her.
“Gorgeous.” He trailed a fingertip around the outer curve of her ear. “Ah, Faith. I can’t believe that’s only your second orgasm.”
She swallowed, getting her throat working again then said quietly, not sure why–maybe afraid too much noise would change something, “Neither can I. Is this what I’ve been missing? Did I...” She screwed up her mouth and flexed her hands where they were buried under the pillow. “Did I scream out loud?”
Those eyes searched and gave way to an amused curve of his mouth. “No. It was more a muted scream.”
“My throat hurts.”
“Hmm. I aim to make other places sore in the near future.”
“That sounds...that sounds dirty.”
“Yes. But I’m going to enjoy doing it.”
Her eyes must have gone big. Certainly she’d stopped breathing. If he’d said that in public, she’d have slapped him. Here, now, she just wanted whatever it was he planned. “Good,” she whispered then added, even quieter, “I guess,” because Mr. Meisner had done that switch from nice to someone who wanted to put her through the wringer. She could see it in his eyes. The wringer of ecstasy, perhaps, but still it was a teensy bit scary.
“How long are you staying in Cairo?”
“What?” The question threw her. He had her tied up on a bed, naked, and he wanted to know how long she was staying here for?
“Uh. Ten days, at least.” She moved her bottom, swaying the ramp of pillows under her. “Perhaps, now is the time for untying me?” Hoping he got the hint, she raised her eyebrows.
“Ten days? That gives us plenty of time then.” Just as he had at the workshop, Mr. Meisner found a strand of her fringe and arranged it across her eyes, then another.
Irritated, Faith tried to move her hand, and couldn’t, so she blew upward and disturbed the hair. “Time for what?”
“Time for what, sir.” He wound a lock around his finger and tugged, making her wince. “Time for us to get to know each other. I like what I see so far, perhaps, at the end of the ten days, we will discuss marriage?”
Every thought in her head seemed to jam in on her at once. Bad enough that Henri wanted her to marry Jeremy, who she didn’t want to...let alone, Mr. Meisner, who really, wasn’t much more than a total stranger... Her heart performed a little skip.
“You can’t just announce that sort of thing, sir!” This time the sir was an acerbic one and not all respectful. “We barely know anything about each other. Well. Um.” A blush swept hotly across her face. How silly. She huffed. “This time I do want to be untied.”
He cocked his head and the mischievous malevolence on his face turned purposeful.
“Oh. You say this, do you, Miss Faith Evard? And I say I’m not done with you yet.”
“What?” she squeaked. “You’re to stop. Right now, sir. Or–”
“Or what? You’ll scream? That could be embarrassing for you.” He slipped his hand back and dipped his finger between her legs, slicking the cream of her juices forward and swirling around and around her clitoris, as if his fingertip were a pen doodling circles on paper. Each feathery touch that glanced off the nub sent out tiny shocks.
“I... I– Stop that, please. You said you’d stop, if I...uh...asked you to.” She squirmed, unsure if she wanted to somehow make that light touch go closer, or to wriggle away.
“I’m not done with you. One minute of your time,” he said calmly, doodling around and now, at times, steering across her clit. “If you still say no, I’ll honor it.”
Feeling a step removed from reality, as if he were gradually drawing a veil over her world, Faith watched him sit up, fish around in the pile of his clothes while still touching her, and emerge with a pocket watch. She licked her lower lip. Already her clitoris swelled, throbbed, maybe in time with his blasted clock. If she didn’t stop him, it wouldn’t mean she had to marry him, would it? No.
“Mr. Meisner. Please stop.” She gave a stifled groan.
“Here. One minute.” Without stopping his circling, he placed the watch on her belly button, nestling it there and then draping the cold watch chain over her skin until the clasp at the end dangled from his hand, swaying, on her nipple. The metal tap, tap, tapped and her nipple peaked hard.
She bit her lip and sucked in air, watching the chain in his fingers tap upon her. Past that, up the slope of her stomach, his other hand played among her pubic hair. Heat rose, sifting, curling. She clamped her lips together but the little sounds came out and she strained against the cords. Her hands were twisting under the pillows and, damn him, he knew it.
“Starting, now.” Leaving the watch chain laid in a line across her belly, he shifted and knelt between her legs. Mr. Meisner put his hand under her bottom, with the little finger atop her nether hole–somewhere it surely shouldn’t be?
Oh. What was that? Yet another new and entirely queer sensation. Did that little finger press in a fraction? Some muscle down there, tensed, relaxed.
No. He mustn’t.
Frowning, she stared incredulously at the man. Mr. Meisner met her gaze then settled his other hand with the V of two fingers framing her clitoris, and popped his thumb into her vagina. She jumped, clamping her jaw on the gasp that almost escaped.
“Twenty seconds, my dear. Do speak up.” With his eyes focused on hers, he leisurely lowered his mouth and put his lips over the top of her oversensitized nub.
Mmm. She tensed, her thighs quivering in, tight on his shoulders.
His tongue swirled.
As one, her eyes snapped shut, her neck arched and her head flopped back onto the mattress. She groaned. His mouth is on me, in my most intimate place. Unimaginable, glorious and so naughty, all at once. She hadn’t known what a clitoris was until this day, and now she wondered if the poor thing could ever expire from overuse.
The tendrils of arousal were seeking out her sexual parts and filling them tight, pumping into her, expanding. She was breathing like an over-stoked st
eam engine, like a dog in the hot sun, like a woman who needed, oh so badly, to orgasm.
He lifted his mouth off her. “I’ll take that as a, yes, I want you to keep doing that.”
She peeked through eyelashes, seeing her breasts heave up and down and the watch chain slither off to the side.
He angled up an eyebrow. “Well?”
“Yes, damn you! Sir.” Heat rippled deep into her stomach, making everywhere ache and her nipples poke up like little turrets. Put your mouth back. God!
“Then we shall see each other for the next ten days? And you won’t reject the idea of discussing marriage, out of hand?”
“Yes!”
He put his head down and sucked the burgeoning nub up against his tongue. Wet heat. Soft, lazy strokes. Heaven. She groaned, muscles tightening like a sprinter about to bolt. She wanted to claw at his hair, at his shoulders but her hands were roped to her ankles, her body angled like a launching ramp straight to his glorious, licking mouth. One more lick. One more. Impossible, but she tensed even tighter, harder. Her thighs had found his body where he knelt between her legs, crushing him so much he’d likely have marks.
Another moist lick sent her hurtling into an orgasm. “Umnhh!” She rode out the crashing shudders and jerks with her neck and body arching into the bonds, her nails digging into the flesh of ankles. The cries seemed to come from the throat of another, distant woman. More spasms wracked her, before the ceiling rematerialized in her dazed sight.
Maybe she wouldn’t be able to ever move again. Ecstasy had found her, left an indelible mark on her soul and had liquefied her very bones. Leonhardt could have poured her into a jar and bottled her if he’d been so inclined.
When he pulled away the pillows and rolled her over so she was on her front, with her bottom now upward, she only bothered to turn her head to one side to breathe. A languor possessed her whole body. Maybe she had gone to heaven?
“I have decided, Faith,” said Mr. Meisner, matter-of-factly. “That I shall send my servant, Helen, to you and that you will stay here instead of the Orient for the next few days.” Something hard and tiny pressed then lightly scratched on the skin of her bottom.
“What?” The words came out slurred. She blinked. With one ear to the bedspread, she must have misheard. What was he doing back there? Her mind awoke and she blurted, “What? No! I am staying at the Orient, sir. You cannot order me about.”
“Here is better, and I can visit you without people like Mrs. Willoughby talking. I’m a methodical man, so I thought it best to put our ten-day agreement in writing, so you couldn’t deny it.”
He was writing on her bottom? She squeaked and attempted to throw herself to one side. His hands held her in place, with her bottom tilted up. “Give it a minute to dry, woman.” He swatted her bottom, stinging her. The slap reverberated into her swollen pussy.
“Uh.” Even that had been nice. Goodness, was she turning into a loose woman? He wasn’t letting her go. Resigned, she gave up, slumped into the bed’s softness. What had the jerk written?
A few minutes later he picked her up bodily, untied her and set her on her feet, with her bottom facing the tall mirror. Since her arms and legs refused to work properly, he hugged her to him, squashing her breasts against his hard pectorals. The length of his stiff cock nestled along her stomach.
She put her arms around his chest and screwed her mouth up.
“Do I have to see this?”
He smiled down at her then kissed the tip of her nose. “You feel nice.” With a slow roll of his hips he pushed his cock even harder against her.
The forbidden lure of what he might want to do with that sent her mind scurrying for cover.
She sucked her lower lip between her teeth and herded her thoughts back to what he’d done to her bottom, to her own darned skin. Without asking. As much as everything that had gone on before, all the glorious things he’d made her body do, writing on her just because he wanted to seemed a big signpost to Mr. Meisner’s character. He didn’t just like control, he plain took it on occasion.
“You’re going to show me what you wrote, aren’t you?” She rolled her eyes. “I’m going to hit you, you know. Sir.”
“A threat? Bad girl.” With that, he reached behind him, captured both her wrists in his hands then tugged them to the small of her back, where he easily gripped them with one hand. Too strong–she couldn’t budge him. He chuckled. “Maybe I should smack you again? Now look.”
Dreading what she’d see, Faith craned her neck to look over her shoulder. Reading backward was an art she’d mastered long ago after childhood games with her brothers and sister. On one cheek of her ass, in neat yet creative calligraphy, was inscribed, Property of Mr. Meisner.
“Sweet Jesus,” she muttered. “You oaf!”
But she couldn’t help seeing what else was in the mirror: her presented naked, hands held at her back, a willing captive of the bald man towering over her. She felt where his cock lay along her belly and she imagined it inside her, inserted where his fingers had been. Her knees weakened.
“Mrs. Willoughby’s maid would have a fit if she saw that,” she said in a voice that came out rough. Gossip would be awful.
“I know.”
Part of his plan then? To keep her in his sights? Now, she had to accept the servant he would send her. That didn’t bother her as much as she thought at first. Almost a boyish prank, this. Underneath his commanding manner lurked some youthful, fun qualities. She liked that. She leaned in and snuggled to his bare chest, inhaling Mr. Meisner’s dark, sweat-laden smell tinged with a hint of old soap.
“You need a bath,” she whispered, closing her eyes and absorbing just being there, next to him. Yet still she couldn’t stop recalling the muted triumph in Mr. Meisner’s eyes as he stood over her in the mirror. Even more than the writing on her skin, his eyes had said, you are mine.
What he’d proposed was surely half a joke. Marriage after ten days? It was laughable. No matter how much marriage was touted as the be-all and end-all of a woman’s life, she’d managed to avoid being pigeonholed. She was independently rich from the proceeds of her mother’s will. Utterly ridiculous for her to consider being Mr. Meisner’s wife...and plaything. Or was it?
With his chest rising and falling softly and the steady beat of his heart under her cheek, with his firm arms holding her snug, she was tempted. The last time she’d been in this good a hug, it had been her teddy bear. Mr. Meisner was a tad more alarming than a teddy bear. Still, she let out a long breath, allowing all her worries drain away, for right now, she was in nirvana.
Chapter 10
“You said I needed a bath?” Standing there, being cuddled, seemed something she would keep doing for ages.
“Mmm. Soon,” she said softly, as if unwilling to move just yet.
Leonhardt released one of her wrists and took a step toward the bathroom, drawing her with him. “I think it’s time for us both have one. Come.”
He gestured ahead, letting his gaze dwell on the sweet roundness of her breasts and newly inked bottom. Getting her all soaped up could be an interesting affair, though some ink might wash away. It would be prudent to check the writing afterward.
She eyed him suspiciously, one eyebrow twitching up. “Both of us? At once?”
“Yes.”
“Ah.” Pink flushed across her cheekbones and, for the tiniest moment, she flicked her gaze downward, toward his cock. Her blush deepened.
Obviously, she was intrigued. Nice. He brushed the back of his finger across her parted lips then her cheek and opened his hand to cup the side of her head. Those glossy black waves fell cool across his skin.
At the instinctive tilt of her head into his hand a novel emotion transfixed him–the same one that had made him talk about marriage on the spur of the moment. The one urging him to both hold her close and safe...and pin her on her back on the bed and fuck her silly, until she capitulated and said, Yes, I’ll marry you.
He wasn’t sure he wanted marriage ye
t himself, but planting the idea in her head had made her so damn cutely annoyed it had been worth it. Not that he’d lied. She’d hooked him in some way. Because her tastes so far coincided with his own? Maybe. Maybe not. There was a lot about Faith he didn’t know, and he planned to rectify that.
One thing he was sure of, if he had wanted marriage for certain, Faith wouldn’t have given in to him at the snap of his fingers, no matter that he had her nicely in hand, right now, in this bedroom. Adventurous, foolhardy, independent, whatever the word was that fitted her it meant he had to woo her, as well as fuck her senseless. He was going to enjoy the next ten days.
“Go.” When she seemed reluctant to walk ahead of him, he gave her a firm smack with his open hand across the buttock on which he’d not drawn. The squeal and jump made him grin. He’d not enjoyed life this much for ages, months if the truth be told. The bright red hand print coming out on her white backside looked enchanting.
As he strode after the now scampering Faith, he pondered how to get her into a spanking position in a way that wouldn’t scare the bejesus out of her. Some problems needed all his brainpower, and that was one of them. The handprint looked even redder. He breathed out slowly through his teeth, as his balls tightened.
The bathtub proved large enough for both of them. While the tub filled, Faith pinned up her hair into a feathery bun then, with her toes pointed daintily, she slid into the warm sudsy water. The scent of lemons pervaded the room. Careful not to step on her legs, Leonhardt eased himself down into the tub at the opposite end with his legs running along the outside of her thighs and his feet touching her bottom.
She bent her knees up as if to keep a little distance. The water lapped invitingly just under her breasts.
“I’m not acquainted with the etiquette of bathing with a man, Mr. Meisner.”
“Neither am I.” Delivered deadpan, he could see it riled her when she shot a fleeting grimace his way.
“Oh. Um. Well then...”
He studied her, trying to reconcile this wonderfully wet and naked woman with the Faith Evard who liked to teeter on the edge of danger.
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