An Introduction to Pleasure: Mistress Matchmaker, Book 1

by Jess Michaels

She turned on him with a smile. “It is lovely. Your whole house is a thing of beauty. I can see why you don’t like to leave.”

  He forced his own smile in return. The fact that he loved his home was only a very small part of why he locked himself away here. But he wasn’t going to tell her that.

  Even if he ached for confession in a way he’d never felt before.

  “Did you know that some men like to exert control over their lovers?” he asked.

  She glanced at him, still distracted by her explorations of the room. “All men control their lovers,” she said with a light laugh.

  He frowned. “I suppose that is somewhat true. But this is different.”

  She lifted her brows. “How so?”

  “Undress,” he ordered without answering her question.

  She hesitated and there was a nervousness to her expression he hadn’t seen since the first time he touched her.

  He smiled. “Please.”

  That additional word seemed to help. She nodded and lifted trembling fingers to the buttons along the front of her gown. He forced himself to look away from the show of her removal of clothing and instead moved into his dressing chamber. He opened a long-neglected, almost forgotten lower drawer of his bureau and withdrew a pair of velvet restraints.

  He stared at them. He hadn’t used these since a lover he’d had many years ago, one who liked her sexual encounters to be rough and overpowering. It had thrilled him to be utterly in control, to watch her squirm. But the moment he was finished touching her, he inevitably forgot about her until their next encounter.

  With Lysandra it would be different.

  It always was.

  He moved back into the room and stopped in the doorway between the two connected chambers. Lysandra stood waiting for him, utterly naked. Her back was to the fire, and the light outlined her form to perfection. Her breasts were trembling, nipples already hard, and with her hands clenched at her stomach, they made a perfect arrow to the soft triangle of curls that covered her sex.

  He resisted the urge to throw aside the restraints and simple fuck her hard and fast against the nearest wall, but only barely. Instead, he moved toward her.

  “You should remain naked the entire time you’re here,” he said with a soft chuckle. “At my utter command and for my pleasure.”

  She laughed, though the way her cheeks darkened and she shifted, he could see the suggestion aroused her.

  “What would the servants say, my lord?” she teased.

  He arched a brow. “They could watch for all I care.”

  She shivered and he smiled. Oh yes, he had guessed her little voyeuristic secret. Whatever she had seen while at Vivien’s had made her long to watch and be watched. He rather liked that very wicked streak in an otherwise upstanding young woman.

  He was about to introduce her to another.

  “Lie down,” he encouraged.

  She smiled and took a place on his bed, propped up on his pillows so she could watch him as he moved around the room. He moved toward the bed and leaned over her, pressed a hard and fast kiss to her lips.

  She jolted in surprise at the forceful embrace but melted into him. Her hand fluttered as she began to lift it to cup the back of his head, but Andrew didn’t allow that. Instead he slipped the restraint first around her wrist and then around the subtle hidden hooks built into his bed.

  Lysandra yanked her head back and stared, first at him, then at her bound wrist.

  “What are you doing?” she asked, her voice a little shrill with surprise. She reached to remove the bind with her free hand, but he caught it.

  “This is what I mean by control,” he said, massaging her palm gently. “And you may want to learn how to accept being dominated, for your lover may wish to do so.”

  Her eyes went wide, clear with fear.

  He shook his head. “I won’t hurt you. I promise you that this will feel very good. For a very long time.”

  She shivered, but shook her head. “And how do I know whoever is my permanent protector will not take advantage of me in this position?”

  He flinched. He hated to think of any future protector in Lysandra’s life.

  “I-I’m certain Vivien will think of someone who would never be anything but mindful of your pleasure. No matter how he obtains it.”

  A series of heated images bombarded Andrew. Of Lysandra spread out for another man, some libertine who would tap into her secret pool of wickedness. Of that man tasting her, taking her, tying her, feeding her desires and introducing her to new ones. The pictures in his head were both troubling and utterly arousing.

  She stared at him. “You have a very dark look in your eyes.”

  He smiled as he restrained her opposite wrist. “I have very dark intentions.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Lysandra opened her mouth, unsure of how to respond. The idea of being at this man’s utter mercy was a highly arousing one. And terrifying. In truth, she had been at his mercy from the first moment she saw him. But this…

  This would take that control to its very end. What if she lost herself entirely? What if she broke every rule she was meant to keep?

  “You will do as I ask,” he said, interrupting her thoughts with equally disconcerting words. “You will not argue. You will put all of your faith in me. And I will offer, in exchange, pleasure.”

  She swallowed. She was tied now. There was no going back. And he was right that another man might demand this. At least she trusted Andrew to take her to this place without taking advantage of her weakness.

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  He grinned and for a moment she had a flash of the rake he claimed he had once been. What a specimen he must have been then. Any woman would have begged to take her place.

  But she was here and that gave her a bit more confidence than she had felt a moment before.

  “I’m going to pleasure you,” he explained as he moved over her. “And you are going to say nothing. The moment you speak, I stop. The moment you moan, I stop. The moment you cry out, I stop. Do you understand? Your pleasure is mine and I will tell you when it’s time to release it.”

  She bit her lip and opened her mouth to speak, but he held up a hand. “Starting now.”

  She snapped her jaw shut and glared at him. Then she nodded, wordless.

  He climbed onto the bed and straddled her, trapping her in with a hand on either side of her head. He was still dressed as he loomed over her, emphasizing his control in this situation and her decided lack of the same.

  He leaned over her with another heated smile. She arched as far as the binds would allow, leaning up to accept his kiss, but he dodged her.

  “Tsk, tsk,” he purred against her ear. “You are not in control. Just surrender, Lysandra. Surrender and let this happen in its own way.”

  She stared at him. He couldn’t understand what the idea of “surrender” fully meant to her. There was more at stake for her than her body. Her heart was involved in this relationship now. Her mother was right. She was in love with this man. And surrender meant fully accepting that and all its consequences, as well as his body.

  And yet she said nothing as he nuzzled her neck, nibbling her skin gently as he moved toward her ear. He nipped there, a touch harder and a mix of pleasure-pain whooshed through her body, settling between her legs to make her clit throb and her pussy wet. She gasped and he pulled back.

  “No sound, Lysandra.”

  She bit her lip as the truth of what he wanted to do settled in. This was to be torture by pleasure. And she shivered at the very idea.

  He moved down her body inch by slow inch as he tasted every part of her. He sucked her neck once again until the burn of pleasure bordered pain, but this time she only arched slightly. She managed to swallow back her cry of pleasure.

  He smiled against her skin. “You’re learning. Very good.”

  When she didn’t respond, his smile turned to a chuckle as he traced her collarbone with his tongue. She tensed again. Had
she always been so sensitive there? There was no answer to the question, though. Andrew was already dragging his mouth lower, lower until he positioned himself between her breasts.

  He licked her there and her sex squeezed in response, almost like his tongue had found a home between her legs instead.

  He took his time at her breasts, teasing a trail along the swell of one but not quite sucking the nipple, and then retreating to repeat the action on the opposite breast. She squeezed her eyes shut as she fought not to beg him to do more. That would only result in punishment. Withdrawal of his mouth entirely. And at this point, that seemed akin to much greater pain.

  He leaned up to look at her.

  “You so desperately want to moan, don’t you?” he whispered. “For me to suck your nipples.”

  She nodded as a response to both questions.

  “None of the first,” he reminded her. “And for being such a good mistress…”

  He trailed off and drew one hard nipple between his lips. She shuddered in relief and pleasure as he sucked, sucked harder. Sucked hard enough that her hips bucked and the shadow tremors of an orgasm rippled through her pussy.

  Her eyes flew open and she couldn’t help her gasp at the sensation. How could she be so close to coming from just his mouth on her breast?

  He lifted his head and met her eyes. “So responsive, Lysandra. And normally I like that so much about you. I like hearing you purr and moan. Beg and gasp. When I slide inside of you, there is nothing better than the way you exhale in such pleasure.”

  She arched toward his words, so sensual. So revealing. She never thought much of her reaction while they made love, but now that she had to temper it, she was fully aware of how often she wanted to cry out, to gasp her breath, to moan with pleasure. She was fully aware of what he did to her that made her do those things.

  Now that the power had been taken from her, she wanted it all the more.

  He lowered his mouth back to her breast, and her mind emptied. She shut her eyes and simply thrilled at the way he licked her, swirled his tongue around and around her taut nipple, sucked her with pressure meant to tease and please in equal measure.

  Then, just as suddenly as he had tasted her, he removed his mouth and glided lower. He licked a trail down her belly, dipping the tip of his tongue into her navel as if it were her slit. She felt him nuzzle her thigh and tensed as she waited for him to taste her pussy.

  But he didn’t. She opened her eyes as he glided his mouth down lower, nibbling and kissing behind her knee, against her calf, even along her bare foot. Every touch was electric against her skin, sending jolts of pleasure through her entire body. She ached like she’d never ached before. She longed for him to touch her in new ways, to take her body and claim it.

  But instead he sat up on his knees, still fully dressed and stared down at her. She leaned toward him, almost against her will, until her arms strained at the binds and her wrists ached from the velvet cutting into her flesh. It took everything in her to remain silent, submissive, but she did it so that he wouldn’t take away whatever release she had already earned.

  Slowly he lifted his hands and tugged his shirt open. He tossed it on the floor and went to work on his breeches. She stared as his flesh was revealed and realized she’d never really watched the entire show of his undressing. They were always touching, or she was distracted by his kiss. But now she could watch him get naked for her.

  And it was amazing. To see that body revealed inch by inch and know it was hers, at least for a while, was a heady thing. He shoved the breeches toward the bottom of the bed and she stared, unwavering, at his penis. It was hard already from his teasing, thrusting against his belly in perfect readiness for her flesh. She lifted her hips toward him in a mute request for him.

  He laughed and crawled forward on his knees until he was positioned right between her legs. He cupped her backside and lifted her until her hips rested on his thighs, then speared her with his cock in one long, languid thrust.

  She bit her lip until she tasted blood, fighting to keep herself from crying out at the ultimate pleasure of this heated joining. He pulled back, dragging his cock through her heated channel with maddening and utterly satisfying slowness. She felt all of his length so keenly, and she wanted more and more. She wanted him fast and hard, until she couldn’t control the thrust of her own hips, until their sweat and their orgasms merged into one like their bodies were merged at present.

  Of course that was not the path he took. He held tight to her elevated hips and continued his slow and steady thrusts, building her by inches, rather than by bounds, toward release. When she tried to lift toward him, to force the pace, he held her firm and merely shook his head with a tsk, tsk sound in his throat.

  “Submit to me,” he whispered. “Surrender fully.”

  She fisted her hands in their bindings. This was her last chance to protect herself, her heart.

  She didn’t take it. With a shiver, she released all the tension in her body and gave herself over to him. Her body. Her soul. And her love. Her love for him washed over her just as her orgasm did, sweeping her through a pleasure so powerful that it overwhelmed and threatened to destroy her.

  And she didn’t care. She would rather burn in the fire of her love than to drown without him. Even though this would soon end. Even though he would never, could never love her in return. This moment was enough.

  He must have felt the surrender and the orgasm that rattled through her because his thrusts grew harder as he guided her through the pleasure.

  “Now, Lysandra,” he said through clenched teeth. “Let go. Let me hear everything you’ve held back.”

  She cried out, louder than ever after keeping quiet for the entire evening. Her body shook from the power of release both bodily and vocally. And when her orgasm was over, she went limp against the pillows, her arms dangling above her in her bonds as Andrew poured his seed deep within her with a cry so loud that it seemed to shake the very room around them.

  Andrew rubbed the slight red marks that indicated where the bonds had bitten into Lysandra’s skin. She smiled as he kissed each wrist.

  “I’m sorry,” he murmured. “My intention wasn’t to hurt.”

  She opened her eyes and looked at him through a hooded stare. “I hurt myself,” she whispered, and for a moment it seemed like she wasn’t only talking about her wrists. “You didn’t hurt me.”

  He pressed her hand against his bare chest and rested his head on the pillow with a contented sigh.

  “Why would a man of your kind of power want more control?” Lysandra asked as she smoothed her palm over his chest over and over.

  He glanced down at her. “What do you mean?”

  She leaned her chin on the top of her hand and said, “I mean that you spend all day running estates, taking your seat in the House of Lords, dictating to servants and tenants, whatever else it is you do…”

  He chuckled but allowed her to continue.

  “It seems to me that you might not want to then continue that utter and complete control in the bedroom with a lover.”

  “An interesting question,” he said, pondering what his answer would be. “Perhaps it is because people see men of power as being so in control that we exert it. After all, yes, I spend a great deal of time and energy dictating the way things should happen. And in many cases, it is an exercise in futility. At least when we demand control in a bedroom, it ends with pleasure and not angry words or frustration.”

  Lysandra seemed to consider that for a moment.

  “But wouldn’t it be just as much a relief to give over your control to a woman? To let her please you and not have to dictate the terms?”

  Andrew wrinkled is brow as he looked at her. Was she suggesting…

  She lifted herself slightly and took his wrist. She kissed the inside of it gently and then lifted it toward the bindings that still dangled from the bed. Her gaze held his with every moment and only flitted away when she slipped his hand through the loop and
tightened the first binding with a tug.

  Andrew stiffened. The idea of surrendering was…odd. Not entirely unpleasant when he thought of how utterly in control Lysandra would be. And wasn’t this just as much a part of her training? What if a future lover wanted her to take control? Andrew would be remiss if he never allowed her to try.

  He was silent as she moved his opposite hand to the binding and tied him down. He lay there, thinking about how he felt: Out of control. At her mercy. Utterly aroused.

  She smiled as she glanced down at his cock slowly easing back to attention.

  “How do I put this…” she murmured as she moved to kneel and placed a hand on each thigh. “Come before I give you permission and I shall leave you here all night long and force you to watch me pleasure myself until you are ready to burst.”

  Andrew’s eyes went wide at her unexpected forcefulness.

  “Lysandra, you little minx,” he laughed.

  She didn’t join in and it was in that moment he realized she was utterly serious. His cock throbbed even harder at the idea that she would be so…so bold.

  With a smile of pure wickedness, she pressed her nails against his thighs and gently dragged them downward. Not hard enough to hurt or to mar his flesh, but a sizzle of erotic heat followed in their wake as Andrew’s hips lifted.

  She looked at him in wonder. “Did I do that?”

  He gritted his teeth. Her innocence mingled with her wickedness was something that could make a man burst on its own.

  “That and much more,” he said, his voice strained. “As you can see, I’m already ready for you once more. It’s like I’m a randy schoolboy with his first lover.”

  Her smile turned soft and shy. “Because of me. Truly?”

  He laughed. “How else can I show you that is true except to tell you to finish what you’ve started. If you are going to steal my control, Miss Keates, please do it.”

  She looked at him for a long, charged moment and then leaned down to cup his cheeks. She kissed him, pouring every ounce of passion into his body, like she could revive him in some way. Truth be told, she was reviving him, bringing him back to life with every touch, every kiss. It might be against his will, but it was happening nonetheless.