His huge, gloved hand wraps around my ankle like a leather manacle.
“What are you?—”
He drags me toward the footboard. I fall backward, my head hitting the pillow, my lips parting with a silent scream.
Then he brings my foot to his face.
What. The. Actual. Fuck?
Head tilting, he studies my sole like it’s some kind of artifact. His hot breath fans against my arch through the gap in the mask, making my toes curl. The pulse between my thighs quickens with anticipation of what he’ll do next. Then his tongue flickers out, and he gives my skin a quick lick.
I flinch, but a second hand wraps around my ankle, holding my foot in place. My lungs freeze as he takes a second taste, dragging his tongue along my sole from heel to toe.
The sensation shoots straight up my leg and settles inmy pussy. My hips jerk back but his grip tightens, inescapable as a steel trap.
“What are you doing?” I whisper without any force. Even in this befuddled state, I sound too breathy, too excited.
Ignoring me, he runs his mouth over the ball of my foot, his tongue painting wet trails across my skin. Then he takes my big toe between his lips and sucks.
The heat of his mouth sends a burst of sensation that makes me gasp. It’s a bolt of unexpected pleasure. I writhe on my back, squeezing my thighs together as he sucks my toe like a popsicle. His deep, pleasured groans hit me in every sensitive spot. I jerk my hips, trying to get a little friction, but he releases my toe with a soft pop. Just as I think he’s about to lick a trail up my calf, he moves to the next toe. And to the next. Like each one has a different flavor.
My clit throbs. The pulse between my legs roars back to life. My pussy clenches around nothing, and I can feel myself getting wet.
This is so fucked up. I should be screaming for Mrs. Fairfax. I should be kicking him in the face. Instead, I lie limp on the mattress, like he’s already got his mouth between my legs.
His breathing becomes heavier. More ragged. He releases the final toe and presses kisses along the inside of my ankle, his tongue dragging across my skin like he’s tasting something sacred. Each touch sends sparks racing up my leg, and each lick makes my pussy quiver.
I sink back against the pillows, my chest rising and falling with quick, shallow breaths. My hands grip the mattress so hard I’m in danger of yanking out the springs.
The rhythm he sets is tongue, breath, suck, stroke.Like I’m an instrument he’s playing and my moans are the music. Between each cycle, he murmurs something against my skin. Words I can’t understand, but they sound desperate. Worshipful. Like I’m the goddess of feet.
My hips continue shifting, chasing non-existent friction. My nipples ache under the thin nightgown, and moisture drips into my ass cheeks. I never knew feet could be so sensitive. Like nerve endings wired straight to my clit.
He moves onto the other foot, his tongue swirling around my big toe. A fresh surge of pleasure spreads up my thighs, the sensation making my back arch off the bed.
“Oh fuck,” I grind out, the words tearing from my throat.
He slams his hips against the footboard, rocking the four-poster with those powerful thrusts. He takes my toe deeper into his mouth, and I swear I can feel his teeth. The slight pressure sends another jolt straight to my core. All traces of terror give way to urgent need. Need for those strong hands to push open my thighs. Need for that tongue to ravish my pussy.
I drop my free leg open wider in invitation. I don’t care if this is the chauffeur, the groundskeeper, or even Mr. Rochester. Not under the strain of this desperate desire. But when he doesn’t take the bait, I cry out, exasperated, and he releases another deep, guttural moan. The sound vibrates against my foot, loud enough to wake Mrs. Fairfax. But I’m too far gone to care.
He drags his mouth down my arch again, his tongue following the curve like he’s memorizing every inch. His grip on my ankle tightens, possessive and sure.
“Please,” I say with a choked gasp. “Please, I need more.”
I raise my hips, offering up my pussy. Hoping he’ll understand my plea. Hoping he’ll put his tongue where I really need it.
But he doesn’t move higher. Just brings my foot back to his mouth and starts the worship all over again.
Suddenly, his entire body goes rigid against the bed frame. His breathing turns ragged, desperate. He moans again, longer this time, before I realize what’s happening.
He’s coming. From worshipping my feet. From boning my bed frame while he sucks my toes like they’re the most erotic thing he’s ever tasted.
My pussy throbs, empty and aching. Why would he hump a piece of wood when he has me?
His body shudders, then goes still. For several seconds, we both just stare at each other, our frantic breaths in sync. Then he lowers my foot to the mattress, like he’s placing it on an altar.
Straightening, he backs away from the bed and walks to the door. Then he disappears into the hallway without a single word.
