“Do you want me to spend in my trousers for you?”
“Yes,” I gasp. “I like how much you want me. How responsive you are to me.”
I rock against him again and again. I can feel how hard his cock is. He is really quite large. Timidityanda large cock. To me, nothing could be more perfect.
I had planned to bed him with efficiency. But I’ve lost controlof the situation completely.
“I can feel…Oh God, I can feel how wet you are.”
“All for you.”
“Dear Lord.”
“Come for me, Alfred.”
“I will—I am—” he stutters and then cries out, stilling me completely with his hands. He jerks beneath me, and I know he is spilling.
He pants under me, catching his breath.
“What you must think of me,” he says. I hear the shame hitch his voice.
“Don’t be silly,” I say, climbing off of him. “It is what I instructed you to do. And you can’t disobey me. Take off your wet clothes and then come here.”
He does what I asked as I stretch out on the coverlet. The room is warm because of the fire in the grate and I admire his bare body in the low light. He is still half hard and the sight of his cock makes my mouth water.
“Can I—can I please you?” he asks once he is completely unclothed.
I nod. To my surprise, he climbs onto the bed and reaches for my drawers, peeling them off of me.
And then his mouth is on my core. His touch is still unpracticed, but he seems more intent on exploring than driving me straight to orgasm. Which paradoxically arouses me all the more. He lazily tongues my clit and has me squirming beneath him.
“Do you like that?” he says when I arch under his hands.
“Yes,” I say, irritation lacing my tone once more. But he does not react to the annoyance, he merely returns to tasting me.
I should not be harsh with him. There is no point. Not when I will deal with him harshly in time. But I can’t helpit. He makes me feel so soft. His vulnerability makes me feel vulnerable. It is maddening.
“You’re very sweet,” he says musingly. “I could taste you like this for hours. I’ve heard many things about carnal acts over the years. But no one mentioned how sweet a woman could taste. Perhaps you taste exceptionally good.”
He returns his mouth to me and then fills me with two of his fingers.
The truth is before last week with Alfred, it had been some time since a man had done this particular act to me. Above five years if my calculations are correct.
“I want to make you come.”
“You will,” I gasp. “Don’t stop.”
Thank Christ, he puts his mouth back on me then and begins sucking and licking with renewed fervor. When he finds a particularly sweet spot, I grab his arms and bear down.
“There. Don’t stop. Please.”
Thepleaseis rather lowering, but I can’t help it.
A moment later, I break apart, unable to keep from keening with pleasure, one of my hands threading through his hair.
“Was that good?” he says, the warm innocence of the question sending an arrow through a region suspiciously close to my heart.
Chapter 15
