by Lavinia Kent
He paused, his mind again ablaze with possibilities. “How would you feel about being watched if no one knew who you were?”
She stiffened against him. “I am not sure. I can’t even imagine it—but then I can’t really imagine any of it. It is one thing to watch, but to actually participate…No, I cannot even think of being watched.”
Now that was not an outright rejection. How interesting. “Well, let us move a little down the hall and we can explore how adventurous you are willing to be, at least as far as watching is concerned.”
“You will need to move back then so that I can pass,” she said.
“You wish is my command, my lady,” he replied, but moved back only a scant half foot.
He could feel her consider, but after a few moments she slipped sideways, her whole body brushing against him. He was tempted to grab hold and keep her pressed tight to him, but he resisted, sanity winning for this one moment.
“How will I know which hole to look through?” she asked, her breasts a heavy weight against his chest. His fingers curled in an effort not reach up and squeeze those breasts until she could have no doubt of his feelings.
“I believe Ruby said it was the third one to the left.”
“What about the others? Who is behind them?”
“Perhaps nobody, perhaps somebody who does not wish to be seen. There really is no telling.”
“And would it be so awful if I did look? How would they ever know?”
“They probably never would. There are many brothels where it is a common practice to sell viewing rights—and the patrons never know, although it is a wise practice in such a place to always assume one is being watched.”
“And you have been to such a place?” Her voice was edged with disbelief.
How much more did he have to show her before she would admit to understanding? “Yes, perhaps upon an occasion or two.” Would she hear the sarcasm in his voice?
“I would not have expected that.” Did he finally hear consideration in her voice?
No, evidently there was a long way to go before she would accept him as he was.
But why did he want her to? It certainly was not necessary for marriage—and no matter what she might think at the moment, they would be married. He was coming to know Bliss far better than he ever had and while he did not understand her reluctance, it was certainly not because she actually disliked him, no matter what she might say. A woman who truly disliked a man was not as comfortable with his touch as Bliss had shown herself to be.
His mind twisted as he realized he was no longer sure what he wanted. Oh, he wanted Bliss, there was no doubt of that, but perhaps their marriage could be more than he’d ever expected. He still couldn’t imagine letting her see his true needs, but perhaps she would be more open than he had ever expected.
And didn’t he want that in a wife? Should he want that in a wife? It was not as easy a question as he would have expected.
He turned his gaze down and met her eyes. “Are you not yet realizing that I am unexpected, and not at all the dull don you have fashioned me?”
“You heard that?” He could hear the sudden shyness in her voice.
“Yes, but do not worry. I found it humorous, not disheartening.”
“Perhaps I would have wished you to find it disheartening.”
He smiled and leaning over, kissed the top of her head. The proper gesture for a future wife, and not at all the kiss he would have liked. “No, sweet. You would never wish to cause pain, not even to me.”
She turned away and he had the feeling that perhaps his words had touched upon a tender spot.
“Come, let us look upon the other room.” She moved to push away the sliding latch that covered the peephole.
He placed his hand over hers. “No, let me look first. I want to be sure that you do not find anything too surprising or even horrifying. I have to confess I have my own self-interest in mind. I would not be happy if you found anything so off-putting that you never wanted to play again.” Was he actually considering doing this again?
“Is that what you consider this, play? And I will begin to think you a prude again if you think to censor what I can and cannot watch.”
He would not bother to explain how much censorship was inherent in everything they did. If he truly did not care what they saw he would have been at an establishment far different than Ruby’s. “Remember you are learning to trust me. Trust me in this. I will promise that I will let you look at anything after I have had a chance to prepare you. Is that so unfair? You may want to pretend that you are not such an innocent, but you have to admit that before the library the other night you knew very little of what happens between men and women.”
“I am not sure that I would go as far as to say that I knew very little. I would agree that I had seen and experienced little, but many of my friends are married and they do talk, and I have several brothers and they are rarely as discreet as they believe.”
He sighed. Bliss did like to win an argument. He did not understand why she had such a problem admitting to being the sweet, innocent girl that she was. “I have already agreed that I will let you look. Do you really have such a problem with my peering in first so that I can explain what you see?”
“I just don’t understand how you can be so convinced it will be so different from what I have already seen. Are men so different? I know that women are not—and from what I have seen both of Lord Banks and Mr. Binkshaw, men are not that different either. A male member is a male member and…”
“Please don’t call it a male member. I find my own feels quite insulted by the term—a cock, a dick, even a prick, a Johnson, a pecker, or a John Thomas is far better than a male member. I’d rather you call it a pego than a member.”
“I think you are avoiding my point. Although is that really what a John Thomas is? I always thought my brothers had a friend by that name.”
There was no reply to that. “Step away from the peephole and I will take a look. And then I will let you see—although I take back my earlier promise. There may be a couple things I am not yet ready for you to experience. You will have to trust me.”
“As if I have a choice,” she grumbled, but she did move down the narrow hall just enough to give him space.
Sliding the door aside he peered in. The interior room was darker than the candlelit hall and it took a moment for his eyes to adjust. Ahh, not too bad. He had no doubt that Bliss would find it startling, but he had faith that she would manage it. He turned to her, but did not move so that she could peer in. “The most important thing is to put your prejudice aside. You will be surprised when you first look through, but take the time to consider.”
“You make me most curious. Will you move aside?” She placed a hand upon his sleeve and pushed lightly. His body’s reaction was not so light.
He stepped over, but not far. Her body would be forced to brush his if she wished to look.
Her eyes moved to his; she clearly understood his ploy. Her shoulders moved back, she would not be deterred. Turning away from his face, she moved until her body slid against his. She leaned forward, positioning herself to comfortably look through the peephole, her ass pressing against him. His cock instantly rose and pressed forward, eager to accept her innocent invitation. He swallowed and looked up at the ceiling. Perhaps he should not have pressed the point, although pressing the point was exactly what filled his mind.
For a moment she just stared, her body enrapt and tense. And then he felt her start. Yes, she had realized what she was watching. It had taken a moment, but the realization had settled about her.
“They are both men.” Her voice was curiously flat. “You are correct. That is certainly not what I expected.”
“Does it upset you?” he asked.
“No—at least not much, although I am not sure why you wanted me to watch. Is it something you like?”
He chuckled. “No, I would have to admit that it lies far outside my areas of interest, but I do think that
there is much to be learned and I thought you might enjoy it. I would imagine that you have more of an appreciation of the male form than do I.”
Chapter Eight
An appreciation of the male form? She did have to admit that was true, Bliss thought. And the two forms that she was peering at were definitely rather fine. In fact, it would be hard to find flaw with either one. Granted it was only truly possible to judge the standing one. The one kneeling with his face away from her certainly had broad shoulders and muscled buttocks, glistening with perspiration, but it was hard to be sure of his other attributes. However, they were definitely far better than Mr. Binkshaw’s had been. She could not fairly judge Lord Banks, as he had, as a whole, remained clothed. There had only been one piece of his anatomy she felt capable of comparing and she would need to get a better look at the present gentlemen to be absolutely sure of superiority.
“You have grown quiet, pet,” Duldon remarked, one of his hands drifting down to settle at her waist.
“I am merely taking it all in. It is rather a lot to absorb.” And as the kneeling man shifted slightly she saw that it was quite a lot. Lord Banks had nothing to compare with that. The member—no, the cock—stood out from his body, strong and proud. And that was putting it mildly. Her mouth watered as the proud beast rose higher.
She shifted, pretending that her thoughts had not strayed to how Duldon would compare. If she pressed back farther would she know? It must be impossible to disguise such a thing. Her ass longed to move those final inches, to rub against him, to feel that full length pressed against her, to…
Stop it. Look ahead. Think only of what she saw, not of what could never be, of what she could never allow to be.
The standing gentleman was tall, his muscles well defined, but not as heavy as a laborer. His cock was equally defined and…tall. Could you describe a cock as tall? Glistening? Long? Thick? Purple? Fuchsia? Throbbing? Strong? She would have to ask Duldon. She shifted her eyes sideways trying not to betray her thoughts.
As her gaze turned and focused on Duldon’s chest she found herself wondering what he’d look like beneath his shirt. Did those few glistening hairs mean there were more farther down? She hadn’t even stopped to think about Binkshaw’s hair, and the men before her varied greatly from each other.
She didn’t even know what Duldon’s neck looked like or his arms above his wrists. She’d seen him swimming as a boy, attired in his damp underclothes, as much revealed as hidden. It didn’t seem likely that he looked the same. He was more than a foot taller now and…Her eyes dropped and then shot up. What was he like…there? What did his cock look like?
She had to stop thinking about that. Her nerves would never settle if she didn’t.
She turned back, hurriedly focusing on the wall. She refused to have these thoughts about Duldon.
She did not wish to know if his shoulders had the defined lines of the man she was gazing at. She did not want to know if his chest looked hard, his nipples small brown pebbles upon them. And she certainly did not wish to know what his cock looked like. She absolutely did not.
Only, perhaps she did.
Blast, think about what was going on in the room before her, think only of that.
Which would have been much easier to accomplish if the hand at her waist had stayed still, if Duldon’s fingers had not begun to stroke her in the most intricate of little patterns. No, do not think of that.
She focused before her and her mind followed. Was that really possible? Well, she supposed it was. There was no reason that it wasn’t, but she’d certainly never thought of putting her mouth there, of running her tongue along the full length of a cock. She licked her lips. What did it feel like? Taste like?
Did the standing man like it? She watched his hands settle on the kneeling man’s head, watched them tangle in the wavy golden locks. Her eyes drifted up. He was masked as Duldon had warned her, but even with the mask, she could see the curl of pleasure about his lips, see the swallow of satisfaction. Yes, he very definitely liked it.
She focused her eyes lower, watched as the lower man ran his tongue back and forth over the length of the slick cock. She could not see his face clearly, but she was sure he evidenced as great a satisfaction as the man upon whom he worked. She would think of them as green and black based upon the color of their masks. Black stood strong, an air of command spread about him. Green knelt before him, anxious to please.
“Do you want me to describe what I see?” she asked, her breath shallow.
“No, I think not. I have to confess that I do prefer my encounters to be between men and women. I would be pleased if you told me how you felt, however.”
His words stopped her. Describe how she felt? Could she do that? Would she want to? It seemed very personal. But then this whole expedition was very personal. It was hard to pretend shyness with a man who had his fingers wrapped about one’s waist and who seemed determined to become even more familiar with her body. And she did want to please him. No matter how she might want to deny it she could not.
“Have you ever done what he’s doing?” she asked, trying to deflect the conversation.
His hand tightened about her waist. “You mean with another man? No, not even in school, although such things were not uncommon.”
“No, I meant has anyone ever licked your—your cock?” It was much easier to think the word than to say it.
He paused, and she could swear his whole body grinned. “Yes, I would have to say that I have experienced that.”
“And did it feel good? I assume that it was a woman who did it. I have never even imagined doing such a thing. Do wives do it? Will I have to do it? Will you expect your wife to do it?”
“Yes, I would say that it feels good, more than good. Yes, women very definitely do it.” He was quiet and his fingers stroked her softly as he thought. “I have never really considered the matter in terms of a wife. I’ve certainly had fantasies, but actual expectation…that will be between me and my wife, or you and I. I do not like the word ‘expected.’ I would hope that my wife would like to bring me pleasure and would want to do it. Tell me, does the man you are watching seem forced?”
“No, I must admit that he seems quite happy with the situation. He seems to find his work delicious.” She giggled slightly, giddy, and was rewarded when Duldon’s thumb swept up and moved across the underside of her breast. She felt her flesh swell and grow plump beneath his touch. The tender tips once again chafed on the fabric of her chemise. His other hand slipped about her and up to a similar position until she felt herself cupped in his palms. His fingers stayed firmly on the lower half of her breasts, never venturing up to those tender peaks. She wanted to slide herself down, to force him to touch her where she wanted to be touched, where she needed to be touched.
“Are you imagining what it would feel like to glide your tongue along a man’s cock, perhaps along my cock?” he asked.
“I—I—ah—no.” She tried to make the answer more certain than she felt. She hadn’t yet had the thought, but now that Duldon had put the words in her mind it was hard to think of anything else. Lick Duldon’s cock? It should have been a repellant thought, but now it filled her. She found herself wetting her lips and tried hard to suppress the urge. Betraying her thoughts would not be desirable.
“You are such a liar, but I will let that pass for now. I should warn you that I may have to punish you in the future if you persist in such untruths.” His low voice curled about her in the near dark.
Her mind suddenly filled with the thought of Mr. Binkshaw’s palm landing about his wife’s bare behind. Her buttocks clenched in response. Had he felt that? She dearly hoped not. She should not be wondering what it would feel like to have Duldon’s palm smacking down on her flesh, imagining the burn—and then the pleasure. God, she knew it would bring pleasure. It shouldn’t. It should hurt. It would hurt, but…She turned her face slightly, trying to hold her expression still.
He chuckled, one hand sliding down over her wais
t and settling on her backside. He squeezed and not gently.
He had most definitely felt her response. Now she had to resist the urge to groan.
Focus on what was before her. Think of that and none of this.
Which would have been a good deal easier if the hand on her buttocks was not squeezing and releasing in a most tantalizing pattern at the same time that the hand upon her breast was stroking in an alternating pattern and slowly, far too slowly, moving upward.
Look, don’t think.
Green had progressed from licking. His lips were locked about the tip of Black’s cock and he was applying some suction based upon the indent of his cheeks. He moved back and forth along the flesh, his lips locked tight. Black lowered his hands again and wrapped his fingers tight in his lover’s hair. Was it correct to call them lovers? She didn’t care. It was clearly what they were. They were beautiful, so beautiful.
Black pressed against Green’s head, urging him forward. Green resisted, then pulled back, removing his lips completely. He laughed and stared up at Black. His lips opened to say something and Black laughed hard. The muscled lines in his chest and abdomen rippled in response. Green leaned forward and again placed his lips about the…
“What do you call the end of the cock? Is there a name? Is it just the tip? I mean the thick plum-shaped part. Can I just call it the plum?”
“I would say not. Or perhaps only if you are sucking upon it. I daresay I would let you use any term you liked if your lips were locked about my prick. Although if your lips were sucking me deep, you might find it hard to speak. And to answer your question, it is normally referred to as the head of the penis.”
Ignore the images his words placed in her mind. Think only of Black and Green. Green’s lips had devoured the head now and were moving up the length of the…
“Shaft,” Duldon’s voice interrupted her before she could even think the following question. “The rest of it is called the shaft. And right next to the body is the base. The sack below can just be called the sack or the balls or the bollocks.”