“Darling, you have been giving me authority over you all evening.”
She remembered how he had asked her to stay, to wear the gown, to stay for the evening meal, to come inside the house, to knell, to let him fuck her. She had complied with it all. She had wanted to play the bold courtesan in his drawing room but lost her courage. Never had the courage. Now he was ordering her to be bold, to dance for him.
He was naked now, his body clearly showing his appreciation for her.
“There’s no music.”
“You’re an authoress. I know you have music in your head.”
“Please, David, don’t do this. Just be kind to me.”
He approached her, set his hands on her hips, and gave them a gentle yet steady push. Side to side. The balls clanged inside, shocks of stimulation rocked through her, followed by a stab of need. She couldn’t hold back a moan.
“Like that and like this, Jeanne.” He moved her hips in a slow, tortuous circle.
Fire sparked in her blood at the way he handled her. Directed her movements. Her loins pulsated and ached with urgency. His cock brushed her mons at one point. She gasped and tried to arch into him but he held her firm, forcing her through the motions of the most obscene type of dancing.
He let her go and backed away.
She missed his touch, his direction.
He folded his arms over his chest.
“Continue like that.”
“You’re going to reward me, correct?”
“Yes, love, I am.”
Desperately clinging to that assurance, she worked her hips in a slow circle. At first there was nothing but the most painful desire. Heated wetness flowed from her core, so much it actually slicked the inside of her thighs. Goodness, she’d never known it could be like this. But then she intentionally clenched her inner muscles, tightened her buttocks and thighs. Squeezed her legs together and rotated her hips. She froze and gasped. It was almost enough.
Enough stimulation to come.
“Keep dancing.” This time his voice resounded with command. A direct order.
It should have galled her. But instead it heated her blood even more. Defiantly, she worked her hips and clenched her inner muscles, faster, faster, faster.
Then involuntary spasms took over. She didn’t have to clench herself any longer. But she was shaking, head to foot. Pleasure swept through her, white starbursts exploding behind her now closed eyes. She was flying, floating.
She landed in strong arms. The pulsations receded quickly. She opened her eyes and looked up at him, jutting her chin out in an expression of triumph. She had done it in spite of him.
He smiled, his eyes like green fire. “My God.”
Another wave of intense satisfaction shuddered through her. She moaned with it.
“I didn’t think that would happen.” He squeezed her shoulders. “My God.”
She was still falling down to earth. Relief was still pouring through her.
“Come, love, down on your knees.” He gently pressed her shoulders.
Dazed, weak and still trembling, she let him guide her until she knelt on the rug.
“Spread your legs,” he said. She complied and he reached inside her and removed the metal balls.
“Don’t move.” He walked away.
“That seems to be your favorite phrase.” She gasped the words out with labored breaths.
“Don’t speak either.”
“Will you punish me?” She laughed at the prospect.
“It could happen. Especially given your defiant bent.”
Something in his tone sent a delicious shiver through her. But how ludicrous. She’d never allow a man to punish her like some naughty child.
He returned with his cravat. “Put your hands behind your back.”
Even though her arousal had been satisfied there was an emotional thrill to obey him and so she complied.
With several quick motions, he folded the wide linen into a narrow strip then he leaned over her and reached behind her. He wrapped the cloth around her wrists and with a few tugs had her secured.
He fondled her breasts, pinched the nipples until they beaded into sharp points. He pushed them together and slid his cock between them.
She had wanted to take him into her mouth all evening. In the drawing room. Now she was practically drooling to feel his erection slide between her lips, to have him hold her head and thrust into her mouth as he had done previously. As no other man had done. He would not find enough friction between her breasts. He would need the wet, warm suction of her mouth to find completion. She knew it. She knew men well. But just when she was sure he was growing weary of the soft fucking he was getting from her breasts, he pulled away and took himself in hand again.
With long, slow motions, he stroked himself. Fluid leaked and covered the head. Hunger to taste him, to lick him clean, made her lick her lips and swallow. “David?”