“Have you never had good sex, Daffy Dear?”
“Not with a partner. On my own it’s great.”
On her own it’s great, she says. Is she trying to fucking kill me? “Has a partner never made you come?”
She shakes her head. “The only time I was close, I bit down on my partner’s shoulder just as I was about to climax. He was repulsed that I’d bitten him and ended things right there.”
The wordclimaxechoes through my head. Or perhaps that’s just the blood rushing through my ears and toward my cock. I focus on what else she said. “Repulsed? What for?” Doesn’t he know how lucky he was to have been bitten by Daphne? How pleasurable pain can be?
She winces. “I did draw a little blood.”
Blood. She drew blood while in the throes of pleasure. That’s so goddamn hot, my head feels light.
She speaks again. “Then my last partner didn’t even get me close. He barely kissed me more than a few times before he went for insertion.”
That clears my head somewhat, and I focus on my ire. “No foreplay? Nothing to warm you up? Get you—” Another cough. “Get you…ready?”
“Nothing. I thought he’d at least touch my breasts.” She absently squeezes her upper chest as she says the last part.
My fingers curl even harder, my nails digging into my palms. What kind of monster wastes his chance with a gorgeous spitfire like Daphne and doesn’t grope a single tit? Doesn’t work her sex with adequate foreplay before settling inside her? Maniacal rage ripples through me, and I’m glad I don’t know of whom she speaks, because I’d have to murder the asshole. Whether for touching her or not touching her enough, I know not. No, I hate him for touching her. I hate everyone who’s ever touched her before me.
Before me?
What am I thinking?
It’s not like I’ve touched her in that way either. Or ever will.
I can’t…
We can’t…
I run a hand over my face and blurt out, “Let’s move on to our lesson plan.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
DAPHNE
Apout curves my lips. I was enjoying our discussion on Chapter Eight and still have so many more questions. Now that I know it’s possible to have better sex just by asking my lover to make minor changes or engage in the activities Monty outlined asforeplayin his book, I’m determined to learn more. I know I can’t be too particular when it comes to choosing a husband. He already needs to be model material, encouraging of my career, and ready to marry by Lughnasadh. I can’t demand he be an intuitive lover as well. At least Monty assured me it’s a skill that can be learned in any relationship.
He clears his throat a little too loudly, then taps the stack of papers on the tea table. “Since you’ve only read Chapter Eight?—”
“I skimmed some other parts.”
He narrows his eyes. “Since I doubt you have any lesson requests due to your preoccupation with Chapter Eight, I’ll make the lesson plan for the weekend, which will revolve around courting at formal events. It’s rather simple. We’ll revisit all the lessons we’ve already practiced while adapting them to this specific environment.”
“How do we adapt them?”
“During formal events, it’s important to demonstrate the behaviors expected from guests, regardless of your social station. Tonight is not only a wedding ceremony but a formal ball.”
“So I can’t dance on tables,” I say with a wry smile.
He mirrors my grin. “And you can’t lift your skirt to shoot guns.”
“And here I thought balls were supposed to be fun.”
“They can be, if you work them right,” he says with a wink.
Laughter bursts from my lips.
