Marissa Day (7 page)

“So demanding.” But he complied, thrusting deep into her, drawing out, and thrusting again. A third finger joined the other two, stretching her farther yet, and she moaned as he pressed so deeply his palm rubbed her folds. “So hot and hungry.” His thumb dove into her slit, and found her sensitive nubbin once more. “And such an eager little clit.” He pressed down and she cried out with the perfection of the feeling.

“You wanted it harder.” His thumb rubbed her clit, sending raw fire through all her nerves as his fingers thrust again, and again. “Harder, you said. Harder.”

“Yes,” she cried, and the muscles of her sheath clamped down around his fingers. Even this felt nothing but good. “Oh yes, Master!”

“You’re close now, Jane. Very close. I want you to beg me. I want you to say please.”

“Please, yes, please.”

“Please fuck me with your fingers,” he instructed, his voice suddenly stern. “Please suck me hard.”

“Yes. Yes. Please. Fuck me, Master Thomas. Suck me hard.”

His mouth claimed her breast again. His tongue rolled and lapped at her nipple. His teeth nipped the very tip, even as he fingers pressed deep into her sheath once more.

A dam of emotion and sensation deep within Jane burst, allowing waves of burning pleasure to flood through her. Still, Thomas thrust his fingers into her. Still, he sucked and teased as her body, caught in the wild currents of delight, shuddered uncontrollably.

“T
here now.” Thomas lifted his mouth from her breast and softly kissed Jane’s lips. She could barely muster the strength to respond, but he did not seem to mind. His hand was still inside her, but his movements were much slower now, soothing rather than arousing.

“I didn’t know,” she whispered. Her strength was almost gone, but she managed to lift her fingers to touch Thomas’s face and his beautiful mouth. “I didn’t know,” she said again.

“I understand, Jane.” He smiled gently against her fingertips. “It pleases me immensely to know I am the only man who has made you come in this fashion.” His fingers slipped from her sheath, which still pulsed with echoes of the intensive pleasure he’d given her. He drew his hand up her belly, leaving a trail of warm musk behind. Was it possible for her to feel more? But Thomas’s warm, damp fingertips toyed with her nipple, circling the tip, and desire—slow, rich and infinitely pleasant—moved through her blood.

“And we haven’t even . . .” She stopped, uncertain how far to go with this lovers game. “You didn’t . . .” She looked at his breeches. Yes. He was still hard, and beautifully so.

“Why, you greedy little miss!” He sounded shocked, but she saw the burning mischief in his eyes. “Was all that not enough for you?”

She met his gaze and boldly shifted, arching her shoulders so her breasts pushed up toward him. “No, sir,” she said. “It was not.”

“Well, this time you must work for what you want.” Thomas lifted her legs from around his hips, setting them on either side of the sofa so she sprawled lewdly open to his gaze. “I will not have you growing lazy.”

Thomas leaned back against the sofa’s curving arm and glowered at her. “You will undress me, Jane,” he commanded. “And you will not stop until I am fully naked, no matter what I may do.”

Jane pushed herself into a sitting position, and eyed Thomas. His pose was filled with masculine arrogance and the sense of mischief was entirely gone. She remembered what he said about obedience, and punishment. The tiniest wisp of nervousness crept into her mind.

“I gave you your instructions, Jane,” Thomas growled. “I expect you to carry them out.”

But Jane was a gentlewoman born and she rebelled at the idea of performing a servant’s task. Even as she thought this, however, her gaze lingered on the undiminished ridge of his erection. The sight made her acutely aware of the emptiness of her sheath and of a fresh ache in her breasts that already longed for the resumption of his touch. There was only one way she could think to have what she wanted.

Jane dropped her gaze. “Yes, Master Thomas.”

Grateful that she was familiar with the intricacies of male clothing, Jane decided to begin with his boots. She swung herself off the sofa and crouched at his right foot. Suddenly, absurdly, awkward in her nakedness, Jane’s first idea was to strip Thomas of his garments as quickly as possible. The thought of him naked in front of her turned her bones to jelly, but the memory of how he had undone her with his hands and mouth gave her pause. Surely it was right she return some of that lingering, maddening pleasure. She ran her hands down the shining length of his hessian boot, savoring the smooth feel of the leather, and the strength of the leg it encased. As she did, Thomas reached out and stroked the top of her head, playing idly with the waving tresses that had come loose from her braid. It was distracting, and she was sure he meant it to be. After all, he had said “no matter what I do to you.” That piece of her instructions had not been added for naught.

Her hands remembered the trick of how to grasp heel and toe and smoothly pull a tight-fitting boot off. She set it aside. She found the buttons and buckles on his knee breeches and undid them. Then, as slowly as she was able to force herself to go, she slipped her hands underneath the breeches leg to caress his calf and find the top of his silk stocking, which she drew slowly, carefully down. All the while his hand petted her head, but she sensed a restlessness in his touch, perhaps even a certain dawning urgency. Jane smiled.

Feeling daring, she stood. Thomas lifted his hand away and looked up at her, eyebrows raised. She circled behind the sofa, drawing her fingers up his arm, and across his shoulders until she stood directly behind him. There, she undid the knot in the black ribbon that held his hair in its neat queue and pulled it free so his golden locks cascaded down and brushed his shoulders. She ran her fingers through his hair, delighting in the touch and scent of the silken strands before she glided around to his left side and set to work removing his other boot and stocking. He said nothing, made no move, just let her perform her task. This was oddly exciting, but definitely frustrating. She wanted more from him. She wanted a sign that her play pierced his facade of indifference.

A new idea came to her. Slowly, letting him see each move she made, Jane climbed up on the sofa and knelt between his thighs. She lifted his right arm, and brought his hand to her mouth, kissing his palm lingeringly, lapping quickly at it with the tip of her tongue, the maneuver he had taught her. Only then did she draw off his coat sleeve. He growled low in his throat, and the sound sent a bolt of heat shimmering down her spine.

She expected him to drop his hand then, but he instead clasped her breast firmly and Jane gasped. His eyes flashed with triumph as he began fondling and massaging. Jane sighed. She wanted nothing so much as to stop there, arching her back and closing her eyes to concentrate on his delightful attentions. But she had her instructions, and while she was sure his idea of punishment would prove . . . highly instructive, she felt it important that she prove to be an apt pupil for him now. Struggling to control her breathing and thoughts, Jane reached to draw Thomas’s other arm free from his coat sleeve. He continued his heated, diverting attentions at her breast, toying with it as he had previously toyed with her hair. When she had removed his second sleeve, he leaned forward so she could draw the coat and waistcoat out from behind him, and so he could kiss her, deeply and warmly with his tongue teasing at her lips. He took hold of her other breast and rubbed his thumbs hard against her tight nipples. Pleasure swept away thought and Jane sighed into his open mouth.

Fortunately, what she desperately wanted to do then was also what she needed to do. She ran her hand along the taut, enticing length of his cock until she found the buttons on his fly and scrabbled to undo them. His hands, his tongue, were driving her frantic. She had to have him—naked before her, buried deep inside her, his cock thrusting hard and deep as his fingers had. All control gone, she shoved her hands into his open fly, grabbing fistfuls of linen to yank his shirttails free.

“Ah-ah, Jane.” Sir Thomas pulled back, one of his large hands clamping around both her wrists. She stared at him, panting, unable to understand for a moment what was happening. He was so hot, so hard. She was ready. She was drenched, open, desperate. She could think of nothing but her need. Didn’t he want her?

“You are doing so well, but I will not have you giving in to impatience.” He clamped his other hand around her wrists. He was so strong, so overpowering. “Do you feel this?” He wrapped both her hands around his hot shaft. The touch of him, so hard and yet so velvet soft, drew a moan from her throat. He moved her hands on him again, stroking up and down with agonizing slowness. “I have been waiting a very long time to have this inside that sweet pussy of yours, and to feel you writhing underneath me while I drive into you. But I will not have this rushed, Jane. I will not forfeit one moment of the exquisite pleasure your body affords me. Do you understand?”

She wanted to move her hands faster, but he would not permit it. Slowly, slowly, he moved her up and down. Her breasts burned, her breath came in gasps. Her pussy strained open and clenched tight again, seeking him. She shifted, rubbing her thighs together, but this brought no relief.

“Do you understand, Jane?” Thomas demanded again.

“Yes,” she managed to get the word out. “But oh, please . . . please . . .” She bit off the words and concentrated on her hands, on the heat of his most private and sensitive flesh, on how strong and vibrant he felt against her palms. With every ounce of self-control she possessed, she made herself move on him in the rhythm he set.

“That’s better, Jane. Very good. Now, finish your task.”

She ached. She burned. She was trembling in her need. But she loosened his cuffs and drew his shirt off. The sight of Thomas’s chest, with its golden hair glinting in the candlelight, took her breath away. But he was not perfect. A white scar like a burst star puckered the flesh of his right shoulder. Another, long and jagged, stretched beneath his ribs. But she barely spared these a glance. Her attention was fully taken by his cock. Powerfully and magnificently erect against his flat belly, it was something to drive her mad, but she did not let herself hesitate. She laid her hands on his hips. He lifted them for her, allowing her to pull his breeches down. She leaned forward to finish the task and remove them completely. As she did, her cheek brushed his erection and she had to moan again. But at last his legs were free and he sprawled fully naked on the sofa.

“Very good, Jane.” Thomas smiled indolently as his eyes raked her over. She was sure he saw how she shook and how flushed her skin had grown, but this only made his eyes shine that much brighter. “You please me very much. But you were careless and inattentive in your duties earlier. For that, you shall kiss my cock.”

Jane stared at him. She had heard of women putting their mouths to men’s cocks, but never imagined herself doing such a thing. Certainly her husband had never asked such a thing of her. But now that the idea had been put before her she wanted very much to try it. Her tongue actually darted out and licked her lips.

She straddled the couch again and ran her hands up his thighs, around his hips, and underneath to grip his ass. She bent forward and inhaled his scent of sweat and musk. Not sure what to do, she touched her lips to his hot shaft. That light contact held a shocking intensity and she sighed as she ran her mouth up and down his length, seeking to explore both his cock and the new feelings this intimate, wicked kiss awoke in her blood. His heart beat underneath his skin, under her mouth, she could feel it. He was so hot, so strong. She licked his smooth, damp tip, tasting his salt. That too was good. She slid closer, rubbing her damp folds against the velvet sofa even as she tightened her fingers on his hard ass.

“Swallow it, Jane,” he ordered. “Suck on it.”

Yes. Yes. That was exactly what she wanted. Jane opened her mouth and took him inside. His shaft filled her mouth. She wanted this, wanted him inside her in all ways he could be.

“Ah!” Thomas’s gasp lit a fresh fire in her. Power. She had power, to give him pleasure, to undo him as he undid her. And oh, he felt so good filling her mouth. She could lick him all she wished to now, running her tongue up and down, as his hands stroked her back and the sides of her breasts.

“That’s it, Jane.” He knotted his fingers into her hair. “Suck it hard!”

The blunt tip stroked the roof of her mouth and that felt unexpectedly delightful. She wanted more. She wanted him to fuck her mouth as his fingers had fucked her pussy. Of its own volition, her head began to move up and down, a rhythm that caused her tight, heavy breasts to swing and rocked her pussy against the plush sofa, bringing her fresh, searing pleasure as her folds stroked against the velvet. She wanted it faster, she wanted it harder. She dug her fingers into his ass, urging him forward, begging him with mouth and hands to give her all of him.