It was so strange—he had slept with hundreds of women, but it had been years since he had done such as simple, intimate act.
He squeezed the exquisite weight and felt himself stiffen further.Even though he had already come twice this evening, he was ready for her again.
“Can I do something?”
“Yes,” she said.“Whatever you want.”
He pushed her back onto the bed, glorying in her beauty and how she laid it open for him.He placed his mouth over her nipple and sucked, teasing her peak with his mouth.
“Ah, that’s nice.”
He repeated the action with her other nipple and then continued licking and sucking until she was writhing beneath him.
“Please,” she said, “I want you.”
He couldn’t believe it.That this beautiful woman wouldreallywant him, not just because he had paid her.He supposed he couldn’ttrulyknow.But Beatrice had told him that she wouldn’t lie.And, after all, he told himself, she wasn’t a professional courtesan—not yet at least.She had less experience pretending.That made him feel better.
“Turn around,” he said, his voice gruff, shifting to allow her the movement.
She did so, wriggling against him.His cock strained against her naked body as she moved against him, leaving a streak of seed on her smooth skin.
“I’m sorry—” he said, mortified.
“Don’t you dare apologize,” she said, from over her shoulder.“It’s flattering.It shows how much you want me.”
Her arse was against his cock now.He could feel his blood pounding in his brain.Madly, he took his cock and stroked it against the smooth skin of her backside.He fairly whimpered as he did so.Another line of seed was there now, glimmering in the light, completely obscene.He wished to enter her without a letter, then to withdraw and spend where his cock was now, but that was complete madness.
“I will get a letter.Don’t move.”
He moved to his bedside table and procured one.He hastily wrapped his cock and then returned to her on the bed.
She had moved onto all fours.Her cunt was glistening and wet and open for him.He felt slightly faint.He wanted her so badly that he was struggling to form words.
“Are—are—you ready?”
“Please.”
He eased into her core.She was so tight around him.The position gave a new sensation in comparison to their perch on the bench at Vauxhall—not to mention a sensational view of her arse.
He steadied himself on her hips.Stars seared across his vision.
“Is that all right?Does it feel all right?”
He worried that his fears were true.That it was a disappointing experience for her.He remembered that bored expression of his pretty mistress—name forgotten to him now—all those years ago.He wondered if Beatrice’s face now looked the same.
“It feels wonderful.”
He smiled at that.Then worried that she was exaggerating just to please him.
“Truly?”
“Yes,” she hissed.
“Can I continue?”
“If you don’t, I will horsewhip you.”
A strange sensation went through him at her words.He imagined a crop in Beatrice’s hand.He imagined himself completely at her mercy.He imagined her forcing him to do all of the things that he wanted and which he had long denied himself.He went, somehow, even harder.
