She looked up and caught his eye.She withdrew her mouth from him and smiled.
“You enjoy watching?”
“Fuck—yes.But don’t stop.”
She laughed.Of course.
And then she angled herself so that he could watch her suck his cock.
He watched her slide him in and out of her mouth.The sight alone threatened to undo him.
But then there was the feel of her.She seemed aware of how much to give him—how much would be too much—and had resolved to give him just enough to keep him on the brink but not send him over it.
The carriage, he was aware, had begun moving again, but, with the curtains closed, he had no notion of where they were.He could care only vaguely.Because the slide of her mouth over him drowned out everything else.
“Christ, Beatrice.That feels so good.”
He couldn’t believe these words were coming out ofhismouth.He, who only days before, had abhorred any talking in the bedroom.But with her, he found himself capable of behaving in a completely different manner.
She seemed to have divined exactly what felt best to him.She was licking the underside of his shaft in long, languorous strokes.She was sucking him so tenderly, as if it were the greatest act of care one person could give to another.The way that she did it, he could believe that it was.
He felt a small amount of seed escape him as she sucked and licked and he knew his release could not be far off.
“You’re going to make me come, my love.”
Her endearment slipped out of his mouth effortlessly.
She gave a hum of approval but didn’t veer from her task.
The carriage halted and he heard Preston jump down from the box.
“Fuck, Christ, no,” he moaned.There was no way he could stop now.It would kill him, he was sure.
Beatrice disengaged her mouth from his cock.“Don’t worry.”
And then she opened the bloody door.
“Beatrice!”he hissed.
She stuck her head out through the door.
“We only need another moment, Preston.”
“Very right, ma’am,” he heard his good-humored coachman answer.
She closed the door and turned back towards him.
He was in an acute state of distress.If she didn’t put her mouth back on him, he feared that he may shuffle off this mortal coil.
“Please,” he begged.
She didn’t make him wait.She put her mouth back on him and resumed that rhythm she had found before.He put his hand back in her hair, enjoying the feel of the warm strands on his fingers as she suckled him.
“You’re too good to me, Beatrice,” he said, finding that he needed to speak.He closed his eyes at the ecstasy of the feeling.“I don’t deserve you.”
He knew he was raving again.But he couldn’t help it.It was true, as far as he was concerned.
“I am going to come—I don’t know if—your mouth—if you want—”
