“There are some other lessons you need first.”
“Really?” Without thinking about it, her other hand reached up and she started rubbing his head. How terrible she was, doing this without asking him first. But he seemed to like it. He wasn’t giving her his stern look, the one he used to try to scare her. He was almost like a cat, closing his eyes and stretching his neck to keep his head in her hand.
“What kind of lesson can I have with your clothes on, George?”
“Well,” he groaned and opened his eyes. It seemed to take a moment for him to focus on her. “I think it is important you have a lesson in your own pleasure.”
Should she tell him? Yes, she decided. George had been the one to tell her about it and to demonstrate it to her, after all. He deserved to know what a good teacher he was.
“I have learned a great deal about pleasure since our last lesson.” She brushed the top of his ear and touched the delicate skin just behind it.
His whole body went rigid and his jaw clenched. He was scowling at her. This was theverystern look. The one she got when she was more than half an hour late. She hadn’t anticipated this at all. She took her hand off his head.
“I only did what you said was possible, and I have discovered you were quite right. I can give myself a climax with my own hand, just as you said.”
Now she got the reaction she had expected. A slight upturning of his lips. A look of praise in his eyes. His body visibly relaxed. “That’s very good,” he murmured. “But you still have things to learn. Will you turn around for me, Bumblephee?”
She turned around, her eyes on the floor. Bumblephee. What he had called her since she was a little girl. He always said it was because she was a buzzing little thing, flying about and never landing until he forced her to be still. But she also knew it was because she was clumsy, messy. A bumbling fool. Following behind him when she was five and he was nine, wanting to do everything he did and do it as well as he did and failing.
“You see,” George said in her ear as he started undoing her buttons, “last time, I became very involved in my own sensation and I think if I stay dressed, I have a better chance of keeping my attention on you.”
She reached up to her shoulders to start to pull her dress off.
“No, I’m going to undress you. You aren’t to do anything, Phee.”
She let her arms fall to her sides. She felt his fingers push the dress off her shoulders and down her arms to her waist and he was squeezing her bottom through her petticoat and then stooping down and having her step out of her dress. Then his fingers were on the laces of her stays.
How heavenly to have the stays loosened and taken off. Her breasts felt so much better unconstrained, under just her chemise.
“Don’t move, Phee. I don’t know how women can stand these restrictive things when it’s so hot out.”
“George.”
“Yes?”
“Earlier, walking here, it was so warm, and I perspired a great deal.”
“So?”
From behind her, George reached around and cupped her breasts through her chemise. She shuddered. His touch was so much better than her own. She leaned back into him, putting her head on his chest, nestling her bottom against him, feeling a bit of his hardness poking at her back.
“That’s right, lovely girl, just relax. I’ve got you. And don’t worry about the perspiration. You smell divine. Like Phoebe times ten.” He put his nose and mouth against the side of her neck and she could feel her nipples hardening and aching under her chemise as he held her breasts. “And I intend to make you perspire a bit more.” A long, soft lick of his tongue on the side of her neck and she shuddered as his fingers very lightly scraped over her erect peaks. “You taste even better than you smell. And I am going to taste you everywhere.”
Just a moment ago, she had been limp, a puddle of melted butter in his arms. But what he said . . . anxiety began to claw at her.
“George.”
He was kissing and nibbling at her neck. “What’s wrong, lovely girl?”
She pulled away from him slightly. “What do you mean byeverywhere? Tasting meeverywhere?”
He continued to play with her breasts through her chemise, very lightly touching and fondling them, not just her peaks but the undersides, the tops, the sides. She was a little sore on the outer part of her left breast, but not much.
He growled. “I shouldn’t have said anything.” Then, softer. “There’s no reason to worry.”
She bit her lip but his hands were so wonderful and she felt so in need now and it was George, after all. If she couldn’t trust George, whom could she trust? But something else was nagging at her.
“Maybe you shouldn’t call melovely girl.”
