Lord & Master (6 page)

Regina clucked sympathetically. “Don’t fret, milady. All the dairymaids say tupping is lots of fun.”

Well, if the dairymaids said so, who was I to doubt?

Too soon Damien arrived to settle the issue. Surely it hadn’t been half an hour. He must have sprinted up the stairway and down the long corridor.

He tapped on the door but didn’t wait for permission to enter.

“Good,” he said, his eyes immediately locking on my face. I noted his jacket was gone and his white tie undone. “Regina, you are dismissed for tonight.”

She bobbed a curtsy and departed.

“You won’t need her,” Damien assured me, seeing my stricken look. “Whatever you require, I can provide you.”

“Of course,” I said, swallowing.

He crossed the carpet to where I stood paralyzed by nerves. My hands clutched together before my waist. Damien covered them, his thumbs rubbing my knuckles. He hadn’t yet surveyed my body, or not that I noticed.

“You left the diamonds on,” he observed, sounding gratified by my choice.

“My neck seemed the safest place for them.”

He smiled. “Come. Your hair is still up.”

He sat me in the little chair before the dressing table mirror. He removed my hairpins, then spread my waving locks over my shoulders. I knew he looked at me then. The eyes that roved my reflection were hot as fire. My breasts might as well have been naked. The negligee revealed every curve and shadow, every flush around the tightened peaks.

“I shall serve as your maid,” he said, his voice thicker than before. “And brush out your hair for you.” He chose a silver handled brush. “I haven’t done this before for a woman. Tell me if I tug too hard.”

His strokes along my scalp were slow and seductive.

“That’s perfect,” I admitted.

Again he smiled. Did everything I do amuse him?

“Your neck is tense.” He set down the brush to massage my nape and shoulders. His fingers were warm, but his tingling touch on my bare skin startled.

“Damien—”

“Shh,” he soothed. “Close your eyes.”

I couldn’t possibly.

“You’re beautiful,” he said to me in the mirror. “Like a dream come to life.”

“I’m no dream.”

“Aren’t you?” He shifted closer. The back of my head bumped his trouser front. The cloth’s distention was unmistakable. Though shocked, I had the strangest urge to rub against the place like a cat. “Don’t you feel how hard you’ve made me? How the sight of you makes my cock long to penetrate your secrets?”

I turned my head to gape at him directly. His hands were firm on my shoulders, but it was my own weakness that kept me where I was. That weakness increased as he kneaded the muscles beside my neck. His hazel eyes gleamed like stars.

“Open my trousers, Mia.”

“Pardon?”

“Open them. I wish you to touch my cock.”

I shuddered, arousal crashing through me in a strength-stealing wave. “I—”

“Very well,” he said. “I’ll do it.”

His graceful fingers undid the buttons, only slightly inconvenienced by the rigid hindrance they worked around. I watched his silk drawers appear. The organ shoving against them held me enrapt. The column of his penis was long and thick, fed by dark veins that the fine fabric imperfectly concealed. The head of his carnal instrument was broader than the shaft, its tip blunt and its rim flared.

The motions of his fingers stopped.

“Perhaps that lifts the curtain enough for now,” he said.

I wasn’t sure it did. My right hand seemed to rise of its own accord. I laid it up the front of his straining drawers. The ridge of his cock was warm. Covering it required the heel of my palm and up through my fingertips. Perhaps all men were built like him, but his organ seemed very long. The shaft pulsed harder as I rubbed it the tiniest bit. His flesh barely gave. I tested its side more forcefully with my thumb.

He uttered a low sound. When I glanced up, his beautiful eyes were closed.

“Does my touch bring you pleasure?”

His lashes lifted. “Yes.” With a firm but gentle hold, he guided my curious fingers away from him. “I want to kiss you now.”

He tugged me up from the chair into his close embrace. His mouth took mine, his strong arms lifting me against his hard body. The completeness of his invasion stunned me. I could not surrender fully enough to it.
He
had to drive his kisses deeper.
He
had to give me what I craved.

When I pushed my tongue tentatively into his mouth, he shuddered.

“Mia,” he groaned, finally breaking free to pant against my neck. My curling toes barely touched the floor. “How do you make yourself exactly what I long for?”

I hadn’t been aware I did. “Kiss me again,” I said boldly.

He kissed me the deepest yet. His lips were satin, his tongue fiery. The room spun without warning. Suddenly the bed was beneath my back. Damien began tugging the wispy negligee off my shoulders.

“Don’t make me tear this,” he warned as I instinctively resisted. “You look too pretty in it not to wear it again.”

“
Must
it come off?” I pleaded, though it wasn’t much of a barrier.

“Yes,” he said, gravely serious. “The world will end if I don’t get you starkers this instant.”

I didn’t dare call him an idiot. I rolled my lips together as he dragged the filmy thing off me. Though a fire had been lit, too many air currents stirred. My nipples definitely didn’t need the added stimulus to contract. I felt as if they must be glowing, they’d drawn so tight. Truthfully, they felt harder than the diamonds in the necklace that spilled around my curves.

That and my plain wedding band were all I had left on.

Damien didn’t seem to mind the effect.

“Oh yes,” he growled, looking down at me. “You’re all mine now.”

He’d stepped off the bed to free my nightgown. I’d been distracted and hadn’t been as careful as I might. My legs were sprawled brazenly with my calves dangling over the mattress edge. I began to draw my knees together, but Damien moved between them.

“Stay exactly where you are,” he ordered.

He started undoing his shirt studs. That silenced my objection. I’d wanted to see more of his body.

Seeing my reaction, he laughed softly. “It is precisely as I expected. Your eyes are as greedy as your pussy.”

That wasn’t fair. He wasn’t acquainted with the nature of my . . . pussy.

He wrenched his arms free and tossed the dress shirt backward. His short-sleeved under-vest clung to the contours of his torso.

When he peeled the stretchy cotton over his head, I gasped. “What is the matter with your stomach?”

He looked down. “Those are my abdominal muscles. They look like that because I exercise.”

“Oh,” I said, embarrassed.

The crooked tilt of his mouth warned me he was about to tease. “Do you dislike the effect?”

“No-o,” I said unsurely.

“I could laze around eating bonbons. That would get rid of them.”

“I will become accustomed to their conformation.”

His smile deepened. “I appreciate your sacrifice. Shall I unveil the rest?”

I had come up on my elbows without thinking. Also without thinking my fingers clutched wads of the coverlet to either side of me. He affected me quite a lot as he was, with his big chest and his muscles and his aroused organ continuing to press out his silky drawers so insistently. My gaze traveled to the slightly safer territory of his ribcage and diaphragm, which were going in and out more emphatically.

The halves of my bottom tensed. I discovered I wanted to rub them on the mattress in the worst way. I resisted as best I could.

“I am prepared to see you,” I said.

He shoved his trousers and drawers together down his long legs. His thighs were hairier than his chest. I liked their shape and that of his calves. I hadn’t seen nicer on a footman.

I’d never seen
anything
like the staff that thrust from the dark gold cloud of hair at his groin. Nothing concealed it now. Unable to stop staring once I’d begun, I bit my lip very hard.

“This is my cock,” he said, steadying the juddering length with one hand. “These are my balls.” He gripped the sac to demonstrate and then let go. “The round bit at the tip is my glans or knob.” This he circled with one finger. “It’s quite sensitive, but it likes to be kissed and sucked.” My eyes widened at that suggestion, though I confess I was intrigued. “The shaft and tip fit inside you, in a special passage between your legs. I move back and forth in there and it stimulates both our nerves. Once you grow accustomed to the process, it’s very pleasurable.”

Thus far, his predictions were in line with the dairymaids.

“Could I touch you again?” I asked.

The flesh his hand steadied jerked.

“Not just yet,” he said. “For now it’s better if I touch you.”

I didn’t ask why. I simply looked at him wide-eyed.

He’d moved back a step to disrobe. When he returned, I realized I’d once again missed my chance to press my knees together. His naked—and very warm—upper thighs prevented it. The bed was high, and I was still propped on my elbows. So lightly I barely felt it, he traced the side of my face with the backs of his bent fingers.

He drank in my reactions.

“Why don’t you lie back?” he suggested.

Cautiously, I complied.

He spread my hair out and arranged the diamond necklace to lie straighter on my body. Its weight was strange, somehow seeming to anchor me. At first, Damien did nothing alarming. He stroked my shoulders with his fingers, and then drew his hands down my arms. Waves of buzzing warmth spread through me.

“That’s it,” he praised. “Just relax.”

He kissed my neck and collarbones, each silky press of his lips creating a small burst of sensation. I thought what I felt must be like being hypnotized. He swept his fingers slowly along my side, getting me used to his touches there. He seemed to admire my hips. He drew circles around the bone and then the more generous flesh.

The next time his warm palm came up me, it caught my breast and cupped.

“Oh,” I said, surprised from my languorous daze.

He hummed reassuringly and took my nipple into his mouth to suck.

The pull of his lips gave all my body’s nerves a shock. I made a noise like he had when I’d rubbed him. He drew harder, his tongue joining in the game. I squirmed as it flicked me, my hands coming to his ribs.

I didn’t push him away. The feel of his skin was unexpectedly appealing.

He lifted his head and smiled. “Let’s see if your other nipple likes being teased this way.”

It did, and my helpless wriggling emboldened him. His hands grew freer, roaming greater swaths of me. My thighs were caressed, and my knees and calves. He massaged the arch of my foot, and so many nerves sparked in reaction that I couldn’t be surprised when hot silky warmth overflowed from inside me.

As if he knew, Damien’s eyes darkened. “Almost,” he said ominously.

He kissed my belly, punctuating his downward progress with little nips. I don’t know why I liked them. I’m sure I shouldn’t have. Whether I should or not, the love bites seemed to spur each place they marked to more intense life.

I inhaled sharply when he gripped my hips and yanked them to the very edge of the soft mattress.

He knelt then, knees on the carpet, broad shoulders between my thighs. I couldn’t draw my legs together even if I’d wanted to. When his thumbs slid up my folds and rubbed, I twisted with an impossible mix of pleasure and embarrassment.

My stranger/husband regarded me seriously. “You’re beautiful to me, Mia. Everywhere. And never more than when I’m arousing you.”

“A-all right,” I agreed unsurely.

He smiled. His thumbs found a spot to massage that arched my spine off the bed. “Do you know what this is?”

“My pussy?” I asked once I was able to stop moaning.

“Your clit—or clitoris, more properly. It is the strongest seat of your pleasure, though as you’ve observed already, many parts of your body are erotically sensitive.”

I had observed that. “My . . . clit is the part you mean to kiss.”

“It is, but first you must make me a promise.”

“Yes?” Did I sound too eager? I found I wanted that lightning bolt of sensation to strike again.

He rubbed more gently around the pulsing spot. The hungry pang I felt deepened. “You must promise to let me finish you. I want you to experience the full paroxysm before I enter you.”

A
paroxysm
sounded vaguely alarming. “Will it hurt?”

He laughed. “Only until you have it, and only a little. During and after feel wonderful.”

I searched his eyes.

“I promise,” he assured me.

I nodded, trusting him as much as I was able without firmer evidence.

He soothed me with his fingers before lowering his head.

His mouth on me there should have scandalized me. Instead, almost at once, I forgot my embarrassment. The dairymaids had understated how enjoyable this activity was—unless, perhaps, my partner was especially skilled at it? I groaned, unable not to, my fingers finding his hard shoulders and digging in.

Oh yes
, I thought, biting my lip for fear of blurting the words out loud. I needed more of his sucking, more of his rubbing and pressing and panting against my skin. My hips lurched upward, my throat echoing with a cry. He held me down and bore in more firmly. My pleasurable sensations rose. The flesh between my legs seemed to swell and tighten at the same time. The ache was incredible, and yet I would not call the feeling pain.

“Please,” I moaned, my fingers now buried shamelessly in his hair. “Please, Damien, finish me.”

His thumbs and lips and tongue suddenly worked over and against the tender button he focused on. Suspense coiled higher, sweeter . . .

The paroxysm was a hot stab of golden feeling shooting deep inside me. Instantly, I loved it, and just as instantly wanted more. I
was
greedy. He’d been absolutely correct to apply that term to me.

His mouth gentled, though I didn’t want it to. He had to wrap his hands around my hipbones in order to pull away.

If my eagerness displeased him, it certainly didn’t show.