“I’m just not sure it will,” she repeated.
“Luckily, I’m not that large, love.”
“Hartley was not quite this big,” she replied, hearing a missishness creep into her voice.
“I have received compliments in the past,” he said, nuzzling her neck. He pressed his body against hers—so that, she suspected, she couldn’t tease him with her hands anymore. “But I don’t like to rest on such laurels. A good lover should be more than a large cock.”
“I’d very much like to feel this large cock inside of me, however, my lord.” She knew, somehow, intuitively, that her use of “my lord” provoked him and egged him closer to her. Why? She could not say. Maybe it injected a frisson of unfamiliarity between the two of them. She had long ago dropped the honorific when addressing him. In truth, she had seldom used it.
“Jesus Christ, Henrietta. If I go inside of you right now,” he said, his voice ragged once more, “I’ll spend.”
At such a raw admission of her power over him, Henrietta felt her pelvic muscles flex again. She felt perilously close herself.
“I want you,” she said. He was above her now, so that there was space between their bodies. She looked down and saw that his cock was very close to her entrance. She sensed both how much he desired her, but also how conflicted he felt about actually having her.
She knew she would have to lead him where they both wanted to go.
Angling herself so that her core hovered right about his cock, she brushed the apex of her thighs against his cum-slick, engorged head.
“Oh fuck,” he said. “Oh God, Henrietta.” She heard his fingers claw the sofa.
She was resting so that he was just at her entrance. Perhaps it was the clarity of the orgasm, but she somehow knew that this way between them—for the first time—was the right one. If she had imagined it in the past, she would have imagined him taking her. But this, instead, felt like she was taking him—and it was right. For them. He had given her those two beautiful climaxes, just now and yesterday, and she wanted to give him the same. She wanted to assert that, though less experienced and younger, she was his equal. And she knew she was. His body told her that truth. Whereas before she had presumed him indifferent to her, she knew now that only she could unlock this man.
“I could spend just from this,” he said. “Truly.”
She rubbed herself against him again. He gave a shaky breath.
“You think I jest. But I do not.”
“I thought you were quite the rake, my lord.”
“Absurd gossip,” he gasped.
She repeated the motion and he swore aloud.
“You’ll make me spend all over your pretty little cunt. Is that what you want? For me to come all over your pretty curls?”
Their eyes met at his filthy words. And she smiled.
“I want you to spend,” she said, eagerly. “But I want you to do it inside of me.”
“Christ, Henrietta. I can’t do that. You could get with child.”
“For you, I’d take the risk.”
He swore again.
“How does that make you feel?” she said, opening her legs wider and letting him slip another inch closer to her entrance. “That a nice young lady of quality such as myself would take such a risk for you? A debutante? Your best friend’s little sister?”
He groaned, his response gibberish, and he buried his face into her shoulder. But he didn’t drive into her farther. She smiled. Her honorable man.
He really was too good for her.
She opened her legs wider and raised herself up to him, so that he entered her in earnest, just the head of him. As he did so, she felt a little pain—it was, after all, only her second time—but then it was over. And she wanted more.
“Are you still in danger of spending, my lord? Shall we stop?”
“Yes and no,” he growled. “Dammit, Henrietta, I never knew you would be like this.”
