It had been a long time since Kingsley had laughed so freely with a girl. Polly rolled onto her back in a giggle fit, swept up in the silliness like a child. God, what a beautiful, bizarre looking-glass world this château was. Hard to believe he was getting paid for this assignment. Not that he cared—money couldn’t buy him what he wanted. He cared about nothing tonight except giving his body to Polly to do with as she pleased.

And it seemed she pleased to kiss him. A quick kiss, more affectionate than sensual. If it wasn’t necessarily the kiss he wanted, it was the kiss he needed. A unique pleasure it was, being kissed by a woman laughing too hard to give a proper kiss.

“I want your tongue in my mouth,” she said, “but I’m afraid I’ll accidentally bite it off.”

“I might need it later,” he said.

“You’ll definitely need it later. Maybe sooner,” she said with a meaningful waggle of her eyebrows. Still smiling, Polly left him on the bed while she rummaged around in her toy chest again. When she returned to the bed, she wasn’t laughing anymore.

Polly kissed his mouth and pushed him onto his back. She kissed his mouth, and she lifted his hands over his head. She kissed his mouth, and she straddled his stomach. She kissed his mouth, and she sat on his hips. She kissed his mouth and kissed his mouth and kissed his mouth until he couldn’t remember what life was like before she’d kissed his mouth.

“Mon dieu,” he said when she stopped to let him breathe. My God.

She’d kissed him so that his lips were already tingling and swollen and aching to be kissed again.

“I am your dieu tonight,” she said. “I’m your goddess and this bed is our temple, and you’re the offering. Offer yourself to me.”

“I’m yours,” he said. “Use me in any way that pleases you and I will worship you for life. Or at least until morning.”

She pinched his cheek, then slapped it lightly. “Naughty boy. I’m a very happy goddess tonight,” she said. “Who wouldn’t be with such a fine offering?”

Polly slid her hands over his naked chest and stomach. His skin tingled at her teasing. She picked up her rope cuffs and wrapped them around Kingsley’s right wrist. Then she looped them through one of the posts of the headboard and bound his left wrist.

“Pull,” she ordered.

He pulled against the ropes and they tightened on his wrists. And the second he felt the tightness kissing the point of pain, he gasped. A little gasp. A little “huh.” Nothing of note really but Polly had noticed it, read it, and knew exactly what it meant.

“Masochist,” she breathed, her eyes fluttering in happiness. She scored his chest with her sharp, sculpted fingernails. “I love being with masochists. Twice the pleasure for me.”

“How so?” Kingsley asked, lightly panting as she dug into his inner biceps with those wicked fingernails of hers.

“When I touch you gently, you like it,” she said, caressing his arms with her whole hands. “And when I hurt you, you like that, too.” She dug in her nails and scratched his arms with force. She didn’t break the skin, but she almost did…and dieu, he loved it. He loved it enough his shoulders arched off the bed.

“You adorable little boy,” she said, her voice a purr now.

“I’m six feet tall,” he said. “Twenty-four years old. I am not little nor a boy.”

“The more you try to convince me you aren’t a little boy, the more like a little boy you sound,” she said. “Next you’ll be stamping your foot and pouting at me.”

“Never,” he said and kicked the bed with his heel.

“Adorable,” she said and bent to kiss him again. She dug her fingernails deep into his sides as she pressed her tongue into his mouth. Her nails were filed sharp as knives. His cock hardened and his pulse quickened as she pressed them into his flesh.

Polly pulled back from the kiss and put two fingers over his lips.

“Listen to me,” she said. Her tone was serious, her expression authoritarian.

He was listening.

“You’re my new toy,” she continued, “but I’m a big girl and big girls don’t break their toys. I want you to do everything I tell you to do so you don’t get hurt. I won’t be happy if you disobey me and end up in pain in all the wrong places.”

She stroked his cheek with the back of her finger as she said this, a tender touch, affectionate. This girl did take good care of her toys.

“Listen to me,” she said again. “Pull your knees to your chest. I want you open for me, and that takes time and a little help.”

He lifted his knees to his chest as ordered while Polly coated her fingers in a thick lubricant.

“Breathe out when I push my fingers into you,” she said. “I’m going to put a plug in you to open you for me. I have a feeling you’ll like it.”

He drew in a deep breath and let it out as she eased the plug in. It felt, well…weird was the best word he could come up with for the sensation. Weird at first. When she let him lower his legs down to the bed again, the plug shifted into place, pressing against that sensitive spot inside him that rarely got the attention it craved.

“Good?” she asked.

“Yes,” he said, breathless.

“And this?” She wrapped her hand around his cock again and stroked it with long, firm, and wet caresses. “Feels good, doesn’t it?”

“Yes…” he breathed and arched again.

“Your eyes just rolled back so far in your head, I bet you could read your own thoughts,” she teased.

“I have no thoughts,” he said. “Other than, Don’t stop, please.”

“I won’t stop if you won’t stop,” she said. “Keep moving your hips like that when I stroke you. It makes all the muscles in your stomach dance and your cock drip.”

He hadn’t even realized he was doing anything with his hips until she’d mentioned it. He was rolling them slowly along with her strokes, trying to eke out as much pleasure from each tug of her hand as possible. It felt a thousand times better than when he stroked himself. His wrists were tied over his head to the headboard, just as he’d fantasized about that very morning. That morning? It felt like a year ago that he’d woken up from his dark winter dreams. What sort of dreams would he have while a prisoner in this peculiar female paradise?

“Tell me what you’re feeling, Kingsley. I love to hear it,” she said. “How’s the plug feel inside you?”

“It’s…ah, hitting a good place,” he said.

“And your cock?”

“It’s very happy right now.”

“I can tell,” she said. “It’s quite big, isn’t it? I hope it won’t break your heart that I won’t let you inside me.”

“That does break my heart.”

“You’ll come tonight, I promise.”

“My happiness is restored.”

“Madame says I’m too soft on you little boys. She once made a boy wait a whole week to come.”

“She is a sadist, isn’t she?”

“I told you so. It’s worse than I can even explain. You’ll just have to see for yourself.”

“I’d love to see for myself,” he said.

“In this house, beatings are privileges and privileges are—”

“Earned.”

“Very good. Keep this up and you might earn one.”

Kingsley kept it up. He wanted to come very badly, but he had learned enough self-control not to spill in a woman’s hand even if that woman’s hand was silky soft and yet deceptively strong. Her hand felt so good that when she abruptly stopped touching him, he groaned.

“You really are a slut,” she said, and from her tone it was clear she meant that as a compliment. She pinched his hipbone hard enough to leave a bruise. “Don’t you dare forget you’re here for my pleasure, not the other way around.”

“I’ll never forget it again,” he said.

“It’s funny,” she said, raising her nightgown to her thighs so she could straddle him again. “I’m with Frenchmen all day and the language does nothing for me. But you speaking English with a French accent…well, it works for me. Can you tell?”

She sat down onto his hips and he felt her wet heat on his lower stomach.

“I can tell,” he breathed.

Polly shifted back so that the tip of his cock slid through the wet slit of her pussy. It was torture to not push his hips up and enter her. She reached under her nightgown and adjusted him so that the head of his cock rested against her clitoris. Then she draped the flowing folds of her gown around them, over her thighs and his. The silk was light as a feather and like a feather, it tickled and teased his skin. All his senses were alive, on high alert and vibrating with pleasure. He could see her flashing, laughing eyes. He could smell her arousal, rich and fragrant. He could feel the silk of her gown and the satin of her body. He could hear his own desperate breathing and maybe hers, too? And when she lowered the straps of her gown to her elbows and bent over his mouth, he could taste the warmth of her skin as she allowed him the privilege of sucking her lavish, lovely nipples.

“There we go,” she whispered, running a hand through his hair. “Just like that. Move your hips the way I like. Rub my clit until I come.”

He nodded, her nipple still deep in his mouth. She had the sort of magnificent firm full breasts that he could happily suck on all night, the kind of breasts that turned rational grown men into hormone-ravaged teenaged boys again. It was pure erotic bliss to lay there flat on his back, his arms tied over his head to the bed while moving his hips in tight circles as his dripping cock massaged her swollen clitoris. He could feel that tight knot of flesh throbbing against him. Or maybe it was him throbbing against her. No matter, they both moved and throbbed together.

She made beautiful sounds as she neared orgasm. The softest sighs. The quietest gasps. She pushed her clitoris against his aching erection again and again. Her wetness bathed him and the heat that emanated from her body was deliciously scalding. She pushed harder, moved her hips in tiny spirals and it took everything he had to not come when she came, because when she came it was incandescent. Polly let out a hoarse cry as she pumped against him rapidly. Finally she stopped, frozen, and let out another tense moan. A few delicious seconds passed where she did nothing but rest her weight on him as Kingsley continued to kiss and lick her beautiful nipples.

She finally sat up with a flip of her auburn hair. She pulled her gown up to cover her breasts. A national tragedy, in his opinion.

“Well,” she said. “That was fun, wasn’t it?”

“Trés,” he said, falling into French. “I hope I pleased you.”

She kissed his mouth, and with her sharp teeth bit his bottom lip to make him flinch.

“Does that answer your question?”

“I’m not sure,” he said, grinning.

“Turn onto your stomach,” she ordered.

Now that did answer his question.