My body is a riot of shame and vexation and terror and horrible, horrible pleasure.
God, the pleasure.
My own bodily pleasure—and the satisfaction I took from giving her pleasure.
In fact, bringing her pleasure was better than I could have ever anticipated. The taste of her cunt, the sound of her responding to my ministrations—dear God, I am not sure how my cock will ever be soft again. The memory of my mouth on Miss de Lacey’s perfect quim will always have me hard, I fear.
That warm glow, that same feeling when she called me beautiful, when God answers my prayers, suffuses my chest.
But I disobeyed her.
I will be ruined.
I stagger upwards onto my feet.
I will never be with her, like this, ever again.
“I will go,” I say. “I will pack my belongings and leave Trescott at once.”
“Not so hasty, Mr. Saintsbury,” she says. “Look at me now. There is no need to rush away.”
I obey, looking down at where she still sits in the chair.
“I spoke rashly,” she says, with a beatific smile that cuts me afresh. “I will not see you dismissed quite yet.”
I can tell by the set of her mouth and tone of her words that she has not truly had a change of heart.
“You never meant to dismiss me. If I spent.”
“No,” she says with a quick laugh.
“You are cruel,” I snap. “You toy with me.”
I just imagined so many things. Infamy. Ruin. Scandal. And none of it will come to pass. At least not yet. But for a moment it was my reality.
“I thought it might be an enhancement to the experience to feel that you couldn’t spend. Sometimes if we try and hold off our pleasure, it is more intense once it arrives.”
I scoff. “I do not need any enhancement, I assure you.”
To my surprise, she smiles softly. I feel horribly light headed. “I am sure you are right. I would apologize, but it is not my way. You seem to have survived.”
I am not sure that I have.
And I am still very confused.
Because while what I just did with—to?—Miss de Lacey is certainly depraved, it is not the act that turns a man from a virgin into one of experience.
Before I can say anything, she rises from her seat.
“I will see you when I call for you next, Mr. Saintsbury,” she says, quietly putting her dress back on.
“What?” I gasp. “We are done?”
“For today.”
“But—”
She isn’t looking at me. I don’t understand why.
