Chapter Sixteen
IT WAS NOT what Mildred wanted to see.
Moments before, she had savored his growl, his shivers as he found his own release. Her own had thrilled, astounded, delighted her to no end. She had never before felt such divine intensity, had wondered if her body might implode or explode. Every second had been a wonder. His strength as he’d bucked her against the cross; his stamina in pumping his hardness up into her, maintaining an angle that drew the most beautiful heat through her loins; his expression when he gazed down upon her. She had not felt her plain self. Even if he took her merely because he had no other option available to him—undoubtedly he had only the most utilitarian use for her body—the joining of their bodies excited her. She had relished it all.
But not the guilt she saw in his eyes. The regret. It would ruin the beauty of what had transpired betwixt them. She could not let it happen.
“Thank you, my lord, thank you,” she said. “I hope it was as pleasurable for you as it was for me.”
“There would not be the evidence of it upon the floor if it were not the case,” he said, his voice low and slightly hoarse. He looked her in the eyes. “Was it pleasurable for you?”
“Exceedingly.”
“Truly? I think I was overly harsh in my motions. Sometimes it is hard to contain the force of the carnal.”
“I welcome it, my lord. It would not have been fitting if you had approached it differently after the flogging.”
He grimaced and pulled away to replace his fall. “I ought not have—I ought to have been more gentle.”
“That would not be in accordance with Château Follet.”
He undid her shackles. “Nevertheless, your introduction here could have been milder.”
She rubbed her sore limbs. “But it would not have thrilled nearly as much.”
He seemed surprised by her boldness and was silent.
“I pray you suffer no regrets,” she added. “I will lose all respect for you if you do.”
“What of you? Will you regret?”
“Not at all.”
“You will think differently tomorrow.”
“Why ask me if you are so certain that you know the answer to your own question?”
He stared at her, then a smile appeared. He looked down at her stays. “Allow me.”
She stepped back. “Are we done already?”
He was visibly taken aback by her question but answered, “Yes, we are done.”
She glanced down at her breasts, recalling how he had looked upon them with desire. “But I had hoped to take your member.”
“Millie…did you think we were engaged in something other than congress?”
“Into my mouth.”
His eyes steeled, and he pressed his lips into a firm line. “I will not degrade you further.”
“But there is titillation in degradation, is there not? Is it not supremely wanton and wicked to take that man’s part and place it where nature had not intended?”
“Millie, the hour is late.”
“Do you not enjoy the act?”
“Millie, I will not allow you to browbeat me into this.”
“Browbeat? No. I merely wish to entice you. I have received some instruction in this and am no novice.”
He shook his head. “Good God, Millie. When I discover this wretch who has turned you…”
“Turned me ‘what?’ Into you?”
He looked a little as if he might like to throttle her. Or spank her. Though her backside was still sore, she would have welcomed an encore.
“I will ask no more of you after this,” she promised.
“You are asking to—to take me into your mouth…”
She gave him a broad smile. “Yes. Please. My lord.”
He uttered an oath beneath his breath. Before he could answer, she had sunk to her knees before him. She eyed his crotch hungrily.
“You might even be pleasantly surprised,” she said. “I may be as good as or better than Miss Hollingsworth might have been.”
She reached a hand to the buttons of his fall, but he caught her wrist.
“Millie—”
She pouted. “Come. It is not as if we are engaging in sin.”
“Not engaging in sin?” he exclaimed, incredulous.
“Further sin. We have done the worst of it already.”
With her other hand, she cupped his groin. He groaned. Could she tempt him once more? The prospect that she could, that she was capable of such sway, excited her.
“I am not one given to generous doses of conscience,” he said, “and you would lay to waste my attempts at goodness.”
“I never invited you to be what you are not.”
He paused. Perhaps he appreciated this in her. Doubtlessly, the women who hoped to tempt a proposal from him would not wish him to continue as he was once wed.
“I pray you be the rake with me,” she said as she pressed her lips to him. “It is only fair.”
With her one free hand, she undid a button. With a shaky breath, he released her other hand. She rubbed her hands over him, coaxing him to hardness once more. A thrill went through her when she felt him responding.
She finished off all the buttons and freed his erection. It was glorious. All this hardness for and because of her. She brushed her fingers over the ridges of the veins and shivered. This had been inside her, had penetrated her deeper than anything had. Eagerly, she licked its underside, her tongue finding a spot that made him moan.
“You’ve no need to do anything, Millie,” he said.
“You granted and fulfilled my wishes and sacrificed your night to do right by me, but do not assume that I am merely returning your favor. I take much pleasure in the taste of cockmeat.”
She engulfed him. He gave a quivering moan. She knew not if she tasted him, her, or the both of them upon his flesh. Heat swirled between her legs at the notion that she might be ingesting the flavor of her own desire. What wickedness!
Greedily, she sank her mouth farther down his shaft.
“Dear God.”
Pleased at his reaction, she attempted to swallow more of him. With the stable hand, she had been able to take her mouth all the way to his pelvis. With Alastair, several inches still separated her lips from the base of his erection. She combed her fingers through the curls at his crotch, then cupped his sack, cradling the heavy balls there. He grunted and wound a hand through her hair.
She knew to keep her teeth behind her lips and slowly began the motion that his sex adored. She drew her mouth up his length, then down as far as she could go. Over and over, she slid herself along his manhood. She sucked at the flared crown.
“Ahhh…” he gasped, his grasp on her tightening.
His hand at the back of her head, he pushed her back down. She went farther than she had done before and gagged when his tip grazed the back of her throat. After recovering, she gripped his member with both hands to keep it steady. But he dictated the pace. He pulled her up his shaft, then pressed her back down. Each time, he went a little farther, until she choked. She would have taken a respite, but he kept her on his cock.
“Is this not what you sought?” he asked. “If you had been a regular submissive here at Follet, I would have threatened you take every last inch on pain of punishment.”
If she could tilt her head, she would have met his stare, her eyes saying what her mouth, being stuffed with cock, could not. In response, she sucked him as hard as she could, lapping at him with her tongue. She might not be the most skilled submissive he had ever had, but she would demonstrate she could be the most ravenous. She wanted him to remember her, to remember this night and not feel as if he had been jilted, but recall it fondly.
“Bloody hell,” he murmured. He matched her vivacity and pumped her head up and down. She took as much of him as she could. It was not always elegant, but by the thrusting of his hips, she could tell that his arousal was growing by leaps and bounds—and very quickly. She gagged often but recovered each time. She came close to taking all of him and hoped he was not disappointed that she might not be as skilled as he had hoped.
He popped his member from her mouth. It glistened with her saliva. Before she could protest, he had scooped her up, carrying her to the bed. He lay her down and clamped his mouth over hears as he removed his waistcoat and kicked off his shoes. After his kisses had left her breathless, he pulled down his braces and swept off his shirt. She eyed the tonedshape of his nakedness. It was beautiful and as inspiring as any work of art. Ardor soared between her thighs.
He made quick work of his remaining garments before attending to hers. He untied her stays completely and fondled her breasts, playfully pinching her nipples. She yelped, for they were still sore. He pulled the shift and stays down her arms, kissing the exposed skin as he went along. She wanted to return to her earlier feast, to see if she might be able to coax him to spend into her mouth, but he clearly had other plans. As long as it involved no regrets, she would not object. In resolving to stay at Château Follet, she had resolved to have none, and would tolerate none in him.
His body hovering over hers, he planted soft kisses upon her upper thighs. She was consumed with desire all over again. She pulled at him, wanting to mate her mouth to his, wanting him to cover her body with his weight.
“Behave yourself,” he warned with a slap to her breast.
She pursed her lips in displeasure but obeyed. He parted her thighs and situated himself between her legs. His gaze was there, where wetness still prevailed. What did he intend, she wondered?
He fingered her slit, then caressed the little bud of flesh that was so easily excited. Before long, she was moaning and writhing. His fondling was delightful, but she wanted more. She wanted to be filled. His fingers inside of her might do but not as well as that other part of him. It was made to fit inside of her.
Withdrawing his finger, he replaced the digit with his mouth.
Her body jumped, and he put a hand upon her pelvis to hold her in place.
Merciful heavens.
He had his tongue there. And it was…it was beyond delicious. Her mind reeled to think—to know—that he tasted her most intimate parts. She supposed it differed little from the bawdiness of taking cock into her mouth, but she wondered how he must perceive the scent and the wetness down there. He seemed not to mind, for his tongue continued its exploration, and when it found a spot that elicited a sharp gasp from her, bore down harder upon its discovery. She clutched at the thin bedclothes beneath.
Merciful heavens.
Enchantment rippled from her groin. She glanced only briefly at him to see the dark locks of his head bobbing between her legs. Shutting her eyes, she allowed her head to fall back upon the bed and gave herself to the apogee his ministrations coaxed. She twisted the bedsheet in her fingers when the prospect of rapture grew too much for her to contain.
“May I spend, my lord?” she managed to ask through the haze of her delight. “May I?”
He slowed, and she took that as a denial.
She took a shaky breath and tightened her body to keep the summit at bay.
He shifted his caresses to give her a respite before taking her swollen bud into his mouth and sucking till her back arched off the bed.
“My lord! Alastair!”
He pinched the bud he had teased to glory.
“My lord, my lord,” she apologized.
His tongue found a new spot of weakness, and attacked it vigorously. Soon she was panting and clenching her body against the onslaught.
“Please, may I spend? Please.”
He murmured, but she could not determine if he had assented or not. She hoped it was the former, for she could not stop herself if he continued. She could not. In the face of so much pleasure engulfing her, she could not hold back the tide. It tore through her, shaking her legs and making her cry out. Every lick, every caress made her tremble.
When at last he stopped to allow her to bathe in the aftermath of her finish, he climbed atop her, and she felt his hardness at her entry. He hesitated for a moment, so she wrapped her arms about him and pulled him down to her.
“Thank you, my lord, thank you,” she whispered, then angled her hips at him.
He gave a low grunt and pushed himself in, filling her. In their present position, his shaft slid into her easily, as nature had intended. Her quim had been fashioned for his member, and she marveled at the thickness throbbing inside of her.
Her first time, the insertion of that part had caused intense pain, and there had been some discomfort when Alastair entered her earlier, but she had quickly adjusted, and that discomfort had melted into the greatest pleasure her body could know. Indeed, she sought the discomfort now and moved her hips to welcome more of him.
Understanding the wordless invitation, he buried himself to the hilt. She purred her satisfaction.
His thrusts were gradual and slow, but her arousal was quick and sure. The prior flame of desire had not yet been extinguished, and she would have gladly spent again. She met his movements, engaged with him as if it were a dance, a dance of undulations, of two becoming one.
Wanting to join more of herself to him, she pulled him down farther and raised her head so that she could kiss him. He seemed surprised at first but readily availed himself of her mouth. Her hunger intensified, she would have taken every part of his body into hers if she could. As if sensing this, he rolled his hips into her at a quicker pace. She ground herself at him in response.
Parting from her mouth, he propped himself up so that he could delve his shaft deeper into her. She grasped his arms and attempted to greet the faster thrusts with her own, but she could not keep up. That irresistible tension roiled once more. She writhed, attempting to stem it from boiling over, for she would have him spend before her. But she had not even time to ask his permission before rapture overtook her. It shattered her body, drowning her in heated bliss.