by Thea Devine
Ten, fifteen minutes at the most—and gone. God, she'd be wealthier than the monarchy at that rate. Yes, the queen would do just fine ... "Maybe sooner," he murmured. "I seem to be at full staff suddenly. But no fucking."
"No fucking, cadi. You said it yourself as a condition of taking me into the desert. You will not want for pleasure, I promise you."
"I want your breasts then."
"No breasts. My condition for this trip, and I thought that had been agreed to."
"I'm not so sure I can keep my hands off your nipples."
"I will keep my breasts out of reach then, and my hands and mouth on your penis, and in that way, we will spend the time on this part of the trip."
Spend the time? Spend him, she meant. No, he couldn't eke out another drop right now, hard as he was.
"How many men have you had?" he asked abruptly, perhaps deliberately to get both of their minds off of blowing him again.
She scurried to a sitting position. "Well, talking about that will spoil things nicely. You don't need to know. I don't even know."
He made a sound.
"How many women have you had, cadi?"
"Only you."
"That's the right answer, but the wrong lover. Why should it matter?"
"Just curiosity. It doesn't matter." He didn't think it did, anyway, but deep in his craw, he felt something else—that she was too young to have been touched that way by however many men who had done so, that she treated it too cavalierly, that she should care a great deal more than she did.
And yet he sat here fantasizing about all the men who might come after him, all the men in the world who might fuck her. So there was no altruism here; it was prurient curiosity, meant to arouse him to the boiling point.
Well, he was there, what with her tight luscious petal-ringed nipple just within reach, and the thought of plunging his shaft deep between her legs.
She ran her hand over his erection. "Not yet an hour, cadi. Perhaps you'd like to have something to eat before I service you agin."
"I will have your nipples for dinner, khanum."
"Not on the menu."
"Then perhaps they shouldn't be displayed as if they were."
"This is how I dress for dinner."
Yes, someday, for the man she would love, she would be naked in his house all day and all night because how could he bear to make her wear clothes?
"I need your nipples." His voice was rougher than he intended, the need almost painful in its intensity. How could he not need them, after those two weeks of constant attention to them, the incessant pleasure of fondling and sucking at them?
After marking them as your own?
"Let me pleasure your penis, cadi. I will make you forget all about my nipples. You know I can make you forget everything." She smoothed her hand all over his penis, and his body vibrated against her expert fingers.
She took him in both hands and began a long swooping motion up and down, with alternating hands, drawing him still harder and tighter, pulling him toward her as if she could make him thicker, stiffer in her hands. Tugging him, and pumping him finally, up and down with just the right pressure in the circle of her incredible magic fingers.
This time, his body went liquid, his orgasm sweetly flooding every molecule of his body and then slowly, deli-ciously, softly, effusing what was left all over her hand.
He slept. He didn't want to. He fought it, but she had prodded him beyond exhaustion. And so he finally slept, not comprehending how much she knew about the functioning of a man's body, and the lengths to which it could be pushed.
She, however, was hungry, and she wrapped herself in her robe, and crawled around the tiny cabin, fishing out a piece of bread and a bottle of water.
It would do. He would do. He was a most responsive man, and now that she controlled his penis, everything would go smoothly until the end of the trip.
She couldn't envision having taken on a stranger to accomplish it.
Nevertheless, her body was tight with longing. No fucking was not necessarily a good thing, when she had spent hours playing with a man's penis only to give him a full measure of culmination and remained unfulfilled herself.
No. Restraint was the order of the day. This way everything was neatly pigeonholed and the rules were understood. He had delineated them himself, and she was
adamant they wouldn't change just because it was her hand juicing him.
But he would try, she was pretty certain of that. He was a man, after all, and her naked body was just within reach all the time. She understood perfectly that it was hard to deny a man what he had already tried and tasted.
Her body grew hot at the thought. She hadn't forgotten one minute of their time in the desert, and even she wanted to put it out of her mind. But every time she looked at her petal-rimmed nipple, she was reminded of it, and both nipples would tighten and her body would twinge. She could almost feel his fingers ...
She felt like pouring the water over her heated body. But that would be a waste, and she would be no less steeped in sex two hours from now.
The thing was to keep his hands away from her body and to give him as much juicing as his penis could take ...
Maybe she could tie him up?
No bedposts here, but still—imagine him spread-eagled on a four-poster bed. Lovely, she could just nibble on him and he couldn't do a thing about it.
She let out a long panting breath. She could just munch on him right now, come to that. There was nothing more enticing than a sleeping penis, all latent power, and deli-ciously quiescent to do with whatever she wished.
She took a long drink of water, set it aside, threw off her robe, knelt beside him, and took him in her mouth.
He awoke slowly, gradually to the sensation of someone's lips moving up and down his shaft in a compressing motion, as if he were being slowly devoured inch by inch.
He held his breath. He didn't want to move. He just wanted to lie there, reveling in the feeling of her mouth squeezing, and nibbling, and nipping.
She was just at the edge of the bedding, leaning over him so that her breasts brushed his hip, her nipples hard against his thigh.
His body jolted. His shaft jutted out like a poker; his breath caught, his chest tightened, as she shook him between her teeth like a bone.
All he had to do was overpower her. Just roll right over her, pin her to the floor, and pound her into the ocean.
And instead, primed and pumped, he spewed an ocean of semen into her waiting expert hands.
Chapter Sixteen
They continued on that way for a week, barely ever leaving the cabin except for necessities: cooking a scant meal of tinned vegetables and rice, or making tea, or buying some fresh fruit and fish from the natives who came out on surfboats when the Malabar made anchor close to shore.
His mandate was to "stay still," while she fed on him every bit as avidly as he had on her. It felt like his penis was a machine, juicing up two or three times a day for her delectation. She couldn't seem to hold it, stroke it, suck it, or pump it enough. She always wanted more. Penetration was not necessary for gratification.
She liked it when he was standing, and he could angle himself into her mouth. She liked it when he was prone, and she had full control of him in her hands. She liked burrowing between his legs and using her tongue and lips to make him swoon. And she especially liked that suspended moment of pure unalloyed pleasure when he surrendered.
But—no fucking, no breasts. He felt as though he would explode if he didn't touch her breasts, if he didn't penetrate her soon, but he was in a constant combustible state anyway.
And she warned him. "I will take drastic measures if you insist on my breasts."
Drastic measures? In a five-foot-square cabin, with nothing but some thin bedding on the floor and some shelves anchored to the wall?
Her threat made him smile. "I insist."
She smiled. He knew that smile, that smile said she'd thought about it, and she
had a plan. Always have a plan. The wiliest of temptresses always had a plan, and he should have known that by now.
And this wily temptress knew just how to drain him dry. He fell off to sleep swearing he would fuck her in spite of her ridiculous rules. No fucking only counted when he made the rules.
He awakened to find his arms above his head, securely tied.
"What's this?"
"Drastic measures, cadi." She was smiling again, that smug triumphant smile he was growing to dislike intensely. "And now, perhaps, I will give you my breasts."
This was torture, as she straddled his chest and her breasts swung that close to his mouth. Torture, with her legs spread so widely that she had to cant her mound with its thick pubic hair tightly against his rib cage.
He considered for thirty seconds swinging his bound arms over his head and around her neck, but that would take a fair amount of flexibility, and he was melting like wax just looking at her, just salivating over her nipples, and the tight pressure of her cleft against his body.
She leaned forward, cupping the breast with the petal-rimmed nipple.
"Mine—"
She smiled, and shifted her body. "Mine." She moved,
sinuous as a snake down his body, pausing to rub that nipple against one of his protruding nipples.
His body bucked; the sensation was so indescribable, so naked.
She shifted herself over his towering erection to straddle his thighs. To lift that breast and settle his penis against it and wipe off a smear onto that nipple.
He heaved again, consumed by the vision of his essence coating her nipple, and she grasped his penis and began rubbing it against both her nipples, one and then the other, back and forth back and forth. He could hardly stand it, back and forth; his body went hot, thick, volcanic. It was more than any man could stand, and yet he was still standing and begging for more.
Molasses—his body had turned to molasses, thick, sweet, sticky. It oozed out slowly, lusciously onto her nipples, dripping onto her breasts, onto his belly, one long continual orgiastic note of pleasure, his body pitched to play it forever, resonating, following its flight.
He came down slowly, like a cloud, and she covered his penis with her body and laid her head against his chest.
He listened for a moment to the throbbing of his body, of the engine that powered the boat, of the engine of life.
He felt sane suddenly, unfogged, clear-sighted, and he couldn't for a moment define what had thrown everything into sharp focus.
Maybe it was his bound hands and the fact his coy mistress had caught him unaware. Maybe it was that his cunning courtesan had played him like a cardsharp.
She was a wonder, this wanton, with her hands, her mouth, her nipples. She made a man forget exactly what she was and where she came from. He didn't doubt for a moment that the price for these services came high.
Not to say he wouldn't pay it. But now the stakes had changed. Now that he comprehended the depth of her power, he had to teach her that she was not in charge, that he was not a man to be led around by his penis.
Had he not already told her so?
She could be forgiven for not believing him. He had acted like a man whose mind was governed solely by what his penis desired. A man who could be distracted by a naked woman, her hard succulent nipples, and her volatile foraging tongue.
He still could be, but now with that keen edge of insight, he could enjoy it even more. He could play with her to the point of perversity and never count the cost.
And now, there would be penetration, deep hot and wet, and there would be fucking. A week of hot, hard, pound-her-to-the-ground fucking.
He went stiff envisioning it. There was nothing about her that didn't heat him to a white-hot frenzy to possess her. Well, it was time to stoke the furnace. Time to light the fire and let it skyrocket until it exploded into ashes.
She wouldn't untie him yet either. "We're not done yet today."
"Oh, I'm done, khanum. To a turn. There's nothing else you could do to squeeze another drop out of me."
"Well, maybe I just like having you at my mercy."
"Enjoy it while you can," he murmured.
She crawled over to the trunk, which was situated by the door, and pulled out a handful of dates and a bottle of water. "Oh, I'm enjoying it, cadi, more than you can imagine." She took a gulp of water and bit into a date while settling herself back against the wall.
"Tell me something."
"Is there anything I can tell you?"
She leaned forward, so that her breasts brushed his chest again, and tipped the bottle of water against his lips.
Tell me what happens when we come to the end of this part of the journey."
He sipped, bringing his hands over his head so he could grasp the bottle with the limited motion of his bound hands. "What happens? Simply, we go to London and find your father. The complications: we need to transform ourselves into civilized human beings; at a minimum, we'll need clothes, transportation, and some idea where to even find your father..."
"Oh, that I know. Mother always said Aling was within a hour's traveling distance of London. And still it was too far away for her."
Doubtless, he thought. Olivia would never like to be far away from the society of men. He couldn't imagine what manner of man she had married, or what kind of man he was that he could abandon his child to the licentious lifestyle of the Valley.
He didn't sound like a man who'd be willing to pay a reward for her return to civilization. But that was thinking too far ahead. He had other rewards to think about... a week of rewards with Georgiana in his bed and at the mercy of his penis.
"An hour? An hour ... that's definitely a clue."
"Someone will know. Mother said that Aling was famous. "
"Then indeed, someone will know." He had no doubt of it, either. They were all in tight, these hard-line country squires. They all knew each other from the cradle, knew each other's secrets and scandals, and they protected each other to a fault.
She was such an innocent about things like this. Such a child.
She took the water bottle from him and took another swallow. "Talking about Aling isn't very sensual, is it? I now regret I even asked. What will be, will be. I'd much rather focus on your pleasure in the coming hours, cadi." "So would I."
"Good." She set aside her water and lifted his arms above his head again, which immediately sparked a spurt of life in him. She smiled and she climbed onto his chest, buried her head in his pubic hair and took his elongating penis into the heat and wet of her mouth.
She was facing away from him, and as she started devouring him, she lifted onto her knees to take him deeper into her mouth, which gave him an unobstructed view between her legs of her long, enticing cleft framed by a lush bush of hair.
He hardened up like iron as her bottom undulated erot-ically before his eyes. He could just hear the sensual little sounds she made, and he heated up like a blast furnace.
So close he could almost taste her. If his hands were free, he could penetrate her—
Not free, but not useless. He lifted his arms and pulled them into his chest, just barely missing her buttocks. Now ... the excitement was unbearable ... now she was his for the taking.
He cupped her buttocks with one hand and she started, but she never stopped eating him. Good. But it was hell concentrating when she was lapping at him like that.
He rubbed the soft curve of her bottom, cursing that his one hand was useless. No, not useless, as he began softly massaging her between her legs.
He felt the heat and wet of her against the palm of his hand. He felt her writhing against his touch as he began stroking her cleft. Just like that, her sucking in concert with his stroking, feeling his way into her heat.
Parting her labia and stroking her there. Feeling her urgency as she bore down on him, hard. Deliberately wriggling and twisting and pushing to make certain she felt him inserting his ringers. Feeling her body swoon at h
is sensual invasion, and clamp down even harder on his penis.
And then deep in the searing wet heat of her, thrusting his fingers in rhythm with her sucking, and the surge of his hips meeting every pull and draw of her mouth, his fingers tight and hard inside her.
They rocketed off together; he erupted in her mouth; she came, swiveling and shaking her hips furiously to get away from his incessant fingers thrusting and twisting inside her.
She could barely talk after. She was full of him, all over her body, all inside her. And she was not happy because she was sprawled out over his legs, her legs spread wide; she couldn't see him, and his fingers still held her prisoner.
"No fucking, cadi."
"I changed the rule. You were right there, how could I help it?"
"How could you not? That was the bargain. Let me go."
"Untie me then."
"Oh no, you are twice as dangerous with your hands free as without now that you've turned everything inside out."
"Only you, khanum, and don't pretend you didn't adore that."
"I don't adore being sneaked up on."
"Hardly. You knew I was here."
"I thought you were disarmed, which proves I cannot trust any man to keep his word. Let me go."
"It was my word, khanum: I determined that there would be no fucking so that I could concentrate on your nipples. And now I want to concentrate on what is between your legs." He wriggled his fingers and she wriggled her hips. "And your nipples. And if I could have both right now, I might die happy."
"You might die altogether, cadi. There is a gun somewhere in this cabin, and enough money to see me to England. I can do without you now that we are well on our way."
"Can you?" he murmured. "Do without me, I mean? Or perhaps I should say, do without my penis? I'm just incidental to all this. Can you do without my penis?"
Men were so smug, she thought; of course she could do without it, even though it was lusciously long and deli-ciously thick. And hard. He hardened up like concrete, malleable one minute and rock solid the next. But "do" without him, without it—
Her body rocked as his fingers took her again, twisting and thrusting into her suddenly, erotically so that she felt wide open, and wholly naked to him.