As she leaned in, he inhaled. His gaze dropped when the neckline of her nightrail did, and his breath gusted out over the tops of her breasts.
She shivered once, and arched her back to push her breasts toward him before she could stop herself. He glanced up as she licked her lips and mimicked her motion. He was testing her, just as she tested him.
Kneeling to tie his ankles to the front chair legs, she deliberately blew over the bulge between his legs and his hips jerked. His head fell back, eyes dropping closed for a moment before he gathered himself and bent his neck to watch her again.
She considered his ties and the growing bulge in his trousers, then untied his hands from the chair, retying them together in his lap. Standing, she turned away and checked the mirror. She’d been correct. His cock was in an uncomfortable position and he was furtively adjusting himself to get relief in the confines of his clothes.
He glanced up and caught her watching him. He sighed, smiling, and said, “Thank you, Mistress.”
She nodded as she removed her wrapper to recline against the pillows on the bed, her legs outstretched.
He opened his mouth to speak.
She frowned at him, wagging a finger to remind him of her threat of a gag.
Subsiding, he licked his lips and leaned forward, looking hopeful.
She drew her nightrail partway up her legs. Her nipples still poked through. He might even be able to see the shadow of rose against cream. Perhaps she should have lit another few candles. For a first lesson, this was enough, she decided, and raised a hand to tweak her nipple.
Firstlesson, Char?
She shook off the thought and slid her other hand under the edge of the nightrail, keeping the bottom hem draped between her thighs, not allowing him to see her womanly folds.
His gaze followed every finger bend, every muscle twitch in her wrist, trying to ascertain her movements. His tongue flicked out to wet his lips again, and she imagined it in lieu of her fingers parting her nether lips. He gave a stifled moan and pressed the heel of one of his bound hands against the iron rod now straight under his clothes.
Knowing he was unbearably aroused at the sight of her touching herself sent a hot lick of fire through Charlotte. Her head arched back and she slowed her circles of her nub to ensure she would not embarrass herself and end this almost before she’d started it.
He moved his hand away, then back.
Her hips bucked without conscious thought.
His eyes glinted with the knowledge that touching his cock affected her, and he focused on her wrist moving in circles with the nightrail caught on it.
She breathed through her nose, trying not to pant, her chest rising and falling against the fingers twisting her nipple.
He licked his lips again and she thought she might go over. Lud, the lordling had not even removed his cravat. She froze, groaning.
He grinned and undid a button on his trousers, his fingers shaking and his breathing erratic.
“No.” Her voice was an octave lower, but firm. If he showed her his cock, she might swallow it whole without even asking permission. “You may not touch yourself unless I tell you to. Only over the clothes. And you may not climax.”
“Mistress, please. May I at least see you, to better learn what you like?” he dared to ask.
Her hips jerked upward again. He was right. What had brought him into the room were her words, “watch and learn,” and his continued requests had ended with him bound at the foot of her bed. Why was she holding back on this last step?
She tugged the nightrail up the last few inches, showing him her pale hand against a thatch of hair a few shades darker than that on her head, and the swollen, wet folds of her sex, open between her legs.
He stared, leaning back.
Concerned he was uncomfortable at the sight or smell, she observed him. He was uncomfortable, all right—due to the length and hardness of his cock. He clenched his fist around it through his trousers like a club, as though he was going to jerk himself, but instead squeezed hard, cinching his eyes. They flew open instantly, focused on her finger circling her most sensitive flesh.
She dipped her finger inside, then roughened her pace. Almost scrubbing now, sparks igniting from fingertips to toes, she stared at him, almost wishing he was free to see what he’d do, if he knew his way around a woman’s body. It had been so long since she climaxed at someone else’s hands. But this, this was close enough that she’d take it, use it for weeks after tonight. She imagined his breath on her skin, his hands where hers were, and all her muscles tightened, straining toward the cliff of ecstasy, higher than she’d had in years. She slipped two fingers inside her channel, moving her thumb to press her nub, as her inner muscles rippled with the beginnings of an explosion.
At the sight, he clutched his cock with both hands and shouted, “Mistress…!”
That was the last straw. She curled around her hand, scrunching her stomach muscles. Her swollen flesh pulsed around her fingers and thumb, on and on. Gasping, she kept her eyes trained on him as she thrust her fingers in and out to prolong the pleasure.
He attempted to stand, forgetting he was tied to the chair, and nearly fell. Another pulse roared through her at the vision of his fall aligning his mouth to her sex to lick her clean. Groaning, she slammed her eyes shut, trying to catch her breath. The last image she saw was him falling back in his chair gripping his cock again.
