by Lynne Barron
She reached for her dishtowel but instead of continuing to dust the table she crossed the room, passing near enough to him that her gray skirts brushed his leg, and stopped before the settee where only the day before he’d taken a tumble, in more ways than one.
“The other servants have gone to the village to see the traveling show,” she said breathlessly.
Turning, he kept her in his sights, thoroughly enjoying the show she was enacting in his parlor.
Flitting around the low sofa, she swiped her rag around the curved back. “I thought to finish my housework and find a bit of fun for myself.”
“Did you, now?” he murmured, one hand falling to adjust his rising shaft in the close confines of his trousers.
Georgie’s gaze dropped to follow the movement, her eyes widening.
“What sort of fun did you have in mind?” Henry asked, getting into the spirit of the game.
“I don’t rightly know,” she answered. “The housekeeper said as how I’m not allowed to join the others in the village.”
“Why’s that?”
“I’ve been naughty.” Her voice softened over the final word before her tongue came out to brush over her bottom lip.
“Have you?” he breathed, entranced by the sight of her laving the luscious pink flesh.
She smiled and lifted her gaze to his in a way only the sauciest of servants would dare. “Leastwise the housekeep says I’ve been naughty.”
“You don’t agree?” he asked, stepping toward her until they were separated only by the settee.
“I didn’t do anything so terrible.” She continued to drag her cloth over the back of the sofa even as she held her smile.
“Tell me what offense you’ve committed and I shall be the judge,” he encouraged.
“I wouldn’t want you to think me a bad girl.”
“Are you a bad girl?” Henry asked, hoping the answer was yes. His mind was filled with images of all the things a bad little maid might do.
“Oh, no, my lord,” she exclaimed. “I am a good girl.”
“Oh,” he replied lamely, losing his place in the little play she’d staged.
But, Georgie, bless her, knew just how to feed him his next line.
Ducking her head, she peeked at him through her lashes as her free hand came up to fiddle with the topmost button of her dress. “I’m a good girl. It’s only…well, sometimes I have bad thoughts. Terribly wicked thoughts.”
“And you acted on one of these wicked thoughts?”
“It was just a kiss,” she protested with a pretty pout.
“Ah, you were found playing with one of the footmen again.”
“How did you know?” she squeaked, blinking in surprise. “That is, I don’t play with the footmen.
“Don’t you?” Reaching across the settee he brushed aside her fumbling fingers and plucked the button from its hole.
“What are you about?” she asked with a giggle, stepping back from his reach.
Henry sidled around the settee, watching in amusement as she matched his steps until they stood at opposite ends of the long velvet piece. “I am not a footman.”
“Of course you aren’t,” she agreed. “You are the earl.”
“And your master.”
Georgie drew in a swift breath and dropped her rag, her fingers fluttering at her sides before she hid them within her skirts. “I’d best get on about my duties.”
“Not just yet, my pretty little maid.” Henry pitched his voice low as he circled around the back of the sofa, pleased when she held her ground.
“I am a good girl,” she whispered.
“Good girls don’t tease a man until he has a cockstand beneath his trousers,” he countered, stopping before her.
As he’d anticipated, she dropped her eyes to his crotch. “Did I do that?”
“You did,” he answered. “The only question that remains is what you intend to do about it?”
“Do you want me to touch it?” Head bent, she whispered the words.
“Have you ever touched a man’s cock?” he asked, heat searing up his spine and along his limbs, anticipation humming in his blood.
“Never,” she admitted quietly. “But…”
“You’d like to,” Henry finished for her.
“I know I shouldn’t. I know it must be wrong because just thinking about it gets me all hot and bothered.” The words rushed from her lips as she peeked up at him through her lashes.
Without a word, Henry reached for one of her hands and brought it to the bulge in his trousers, pressing her fingers against his straining length.
“Oh, my lord,” she breathed.
Henry heard the wonder in her voice and his cock pulsed against her hand as he let loose a low groan.
“Are you in pain, master?” she purred.
“You might say that,” he muttered.
“Oh no, you must tell me how to make you feel better.”
“Release me,” he ordered.
“Do you mean that I should open your britches? I couldn’t.”
“Do it,” he demanded.
“Yes, master.” Nimble fingers plucked at the fastenings of his placket, bumping against his shaft and heightening his anticipation until the fall gaped open and his cock sprang free.
“Take me in your hand,” he commanded.
Long fingers curled around his shaft just beneath the fat head and slid down and back up, her touch light.
“You’re so hard,” she said, lifting wide eyes to capture his gaze. “So big and hard.”
Covering her hand, he tightened her grip and stroked down his painfully hard length.
“Like this?” she asked, squeezing him almost to the point of pain.
“Christ, yes,” he gasped.
Without warning, Georgie released his turgid flesh and jumped back.
“Oh, no!” she wailed.
“What the hell?” he demanded, taking an unsteady step forward.
“I am a bad girl, I am, master. I touched you and now I’m all hot and tingly and my titties…”
“Do they ache?” he rasped out.
“How did you know?”
“Your nipples are hard,” he answered, staring at the tight buds visible beneath the thin muslin of her dress. “They are begging for attention.”
Georgie backed away until she was flush against the wall, her hands raised to cup her small breasts, to shield their pouting peaks from his view.
Henry followed to loom over her with his cock prodding her belly.
“You are a tease,” he accused as he grasped her hands and raised them above her head. “A bad girl who only pretends to be good.”
Georgie trembled, sucked in a stuttering breath. “I try to be good, my lord.”
“Master,” he corrected, locking one hand around both of her wrists and pinning them to the wall. “You are a wicked girl. For months you’ve been flaunting yourself before me, daring me to take you.”
“Please don’t take me, Master.” Her sinful voice wrapped around him, taking him outside himself, pushing him beyond any boundary he’d ever known.
Henry grasped the neckline of her frock and wrenched downward, the worn muslin giving way and splitting apart to the waist. The sound of ripping fabric, of buttons scattering around the room, drove him on.
Parting the shredded dress, he dipped down to claim one tight nipple with his lips.
“No,” Georgie whispered on a fractured breath as he pulled the bud into his mouth. He lashed her flesh with his tongue, bit down just hard enough to drag a raspy moan from her, before drawing her nipple deep into his mouth and setting up a rolling suckling that had her back bowing off the wall, her belly nudging his shaft insistently.
Placing his free hand over her other breast he cupped her slight weight, lifting and squeezing as he pinched her nipple between two fingers.
“My lord, my lord,” she panted.
“Master.” Releasing her pebbled peak and raising his head to meet her eyes, he found
them as dark as twilight, glassy and dazed.
“Master, please, I’m a good girl,” she said around a broken moan. “You mustn’t use me so.”
“I’ll use you as I please,” he growled.
Georgie pulled against his hand at her wrists and he released her to allow her to slip free and twist around to face the wall. It was the work of but a moment to pull her tattered dress over thin shoulders, down long arms, exposing a slender back, narrow hips and miles of legs. When the gray fabric pooled at her feet, she placed her hands on the wall and plastered her breasts to the flocked wallpaper.
“Think you’re safe from me, do you?” Henry asked around a gravelly chuckle as he trailed one hand down her spine, over the bump of her tailbone and into the crease of her bottom. “Think again, my little maid.”
“Oh no,” she wailed, clamping her thighs together.
“Open your legs,” he ordered.
Her only response was a defiant shake of her head that sent her braids slithering across her back.
Before he quite knew what he intended, Henry lifted his hand and brought his palm down on the smooth round orb of her ass, the slap of hard flesh on soft drawing a soft cry from Georgie.
He opened his mouth to apologize, to beg forgiveness, shocked and wildly aroused, when she arched her back and spread her fingers wide on the wall, her hips twisting and rolling, her ass brushing the head of his cock.
“I’m Master’s bad girl,” she gasped, sending blood thrumming through his veins and pulsing down his shaft.
And still she did not open her legs.
Henry lashed out with his other hand, treating the opposite cheek to the same punishment.
Again, Georgie cried out, the sound curling around him, drawing him into a whirlpool of dark desire unlike any he’d ever known.
Georgie’s legs parted, her back curled, her pinkening ass on display.
Placing his hands on the heated flesh, over the faint outline of his fingers and palms left in the wake of his punishment, he caressed her soft skin.
Georgie hummed low in her throat, urging him on.
He dipped into the shadowy seam, followed it down, swirled one finger around the tight little rosette he found. He tapped the puckered hole twice before continuing on to his goal.
“You’re wet for me.” He circled her cunny, gathering the moisture and spreading it over her folds.
“I shouldn’t allow you such liberties,” she said, her voice soft and trembling.
“You will.”
Henry prodded her quim with two fingers, pushed in to the first knuckle, her soft, slick flesh already shivering with the prelude to her first climax.
“Please,” she begged, tilting her hips to take his fingers past the second knuckle.
“Please, who?”
“Please, Master.” She gave him the words on a sigh and he withdrew his fingers and added a third.
“Sweet mercy,” she whispered as he burrowed his way into her body, slowly and relentlessly.
“Do you want me to stop?” Henry forced the words out through clenched teeth, knowing he would not stop regardless of how she answered.
Georgie shook her head, her braids swaying with the motion.
“Say the words,” he commanded.
“Don’t stop, my lord master.” She squirmed against his invasion even as she relaxed, her silken walls softening, allowing him to plunge deep.
“You are a bad girl.” He withdrew his fingers until only the tips remained within her snug heat.
“Yes.”
“Say it,” he ordered, driving into her once more.
“I…I…am a bad…girl,” she gasped.
“Do you want to come?” He pulled out to the first knuckle.
“I want what you want,” she said, her voice dark.
“Come for me,” he commanded, his fingers thrusting deep, his thumb riding the crease of her ass to stop over the puckered rose. He pressed against the tight hole, too gently to penetrate the portal yet firm enough that she felt the forbidden touch.
Bowing her back, clawing at the wall, Georgie climaxed around his invading fingers, rhythmically clenching him hard enough to twist the digits around one another as he held them buried within her spasming cunny.
Henry rode out her release, one hand buried between her legs, the other splayed across her ass, fingers flexing, squeezing the firm, round flesh.
His cock was agonizingly hard. The blood roared through his veins, pumping through his heart so fiercely he felt each beat in his head, in his abdomen, running down his shaft.
He’d never felt more alive, more in the moment, more in control of his body and his raging desire.
Withdrawing his hand from between her legs, smiling when she moaned in protest, he stepped back.
“On your hands and knees,” he said, his voice firm, steady. “I’m going to fuck the living daylights out of you now.”
Georgie complied, easing down the wall and scooting back until her hands and knees rested on the Turkish carpet.
“Good girl,” he praised.
“Your bad girl, Master,” she replied in a velvety whisper.
Lust coiled tight at her words, threatening to send him over the precipice on which he teetered. He fought it back, found the amazing place he’d been only moments before, and dropped to his knees behind her as he pushed his trousers down.
“Spread your legs.”
She hesitated for only a moment before obeying, giving him room to wedge his knees between hers.
He gripped her hips hard, held her steady, brought the throbbing head of his cock to her cunny and, in one powerful stroke, thrust into her, hard and deep.
Georgie moaned, her spine curling as she tossed her head back.
Henry withdrew and thrust again, and again, setting up a rhythm that had the woman before him clenching her fingers in the carpet, canting her hips to take him deep, and deeper still, tremulous sighs and throaty whimpers falling from her lips.
He worked over her, bringing her to the edge of abandon before wrapping one arm around her, trailing his hand down her belly to sift his fingers through her curly hairs where he hovered just over her clitoris.
Georgie tilted her hips forward, undulated and bucked beneath him, chasing the touch he withheld, the release that only he could give her.
“Ask me for it,” he ordered, leaving her hanging just there, straining and stretching to reach his teasing fingers. “Beg me, Georgie.”
“Please, Henry, please.”
He pressed two fingers over the pulsing jewel and she swiveled her hips, pushing against his fingers,
Gripping her hip hard, he used his knees to force her thighs wider apart and drove deep, grinding against her folds.
Pinned between his hand on her mound, his fingers pressed to her clit, and his cock buried within her tight quim, he halted her desperate movements and took over for her, giving her the pressure she craved, the rolling tempo she needed.
“Damn me…so good,” she gasped around a stuttering breath only seconds before laughter, dark and fragmented, erupted from her and her inner walls clasped him tight, milking his shaft, drawing a ragged groan from him.
Seated deep inside her body, so deep he imagined his cock battering her womb, Henry rolled her clit between his fingers and rocked against her folds, absorbing her orgasm, allowing it to push him that much closer to his own.
He felt the power of his domination flow through him. He controlled the woman before him. He ruled her pleasure, commanded her body, and demanded her obedience.
As her laughter dwindled to gasping moans, as her fingers released their grip on the carpet, Henry withdrew from the tight confines of her cunny.
“Roll over, love,” he ordered, gripping her hip to assist her in turning on to her back.
When she was sprawled across floor, her hands resting palm up beside her head and her long legs open in welcome, he knelt between her thighs.
“Henry,” she whispered, looking up at him from b
eneath heavy lids, her cheeks rosy and moisture dotting her brow.
“Again, Georgie,” he growled, coming over her and capturing her hands, twisting his fingers through hers and pinning them to the carpet as he brought his throbbing cock to the entrance of her body.
“I don’t think I can,” she murmured.
“You will.”
Slowly, inch by painfully hard inch, Henry breached her body, sliding effortlessly into her wet heat until he was seated deep within.
“Yes,” she sighed, her legs coming up to curl around his hips.
Lust roared through his veins, roiling in his abdomen and pulsing down his shaft, urging him to seek his own satisfaction. Henry fought back the need to plunder, to pound into her warm channel until he found relief.
Instead he took Georgie at a leisurely pace, driving deep only to withdraw and plunge into her silken heat once more. Over and over he came into her body, his eyes open on her, drifting over her flushed face, down to the pulse beating in the hollow of her throat, to her small breasts rising and falling with each labored breath she took.
Lifting his gaze to hers, he found her looking back at him, her eye glazed and unfocused, her lashes fluttering with each heavy stroke of his cock into her snug quim.
Georgie met each thrust, her hips rising from the floor, her breath leaving her in soft sighs that mingled with his own panting breaths. Slowly, ruthlessly Henry forced her to climb the cliff once more, valiantly holding on to his desire, battling back the urge to let go, to give himself up to the pleasure.
He’d never felt so connected to a woman in his life, never known what it was to time his breaths to hers, to match his heartbeat to hers, to witness her passion unfurl and build, to know that her pleasure, her need was tied to his, that he alone could set her free.
When Georgie tossed back her head, when she let loose a soft, tremulous cry and convulsed around his shaft buried deep within her body, Henry knew a joy unlike any other he’d ever known.
Releasing her hands, he dropped over her, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her tight against his chest, his mouth claiming hers. Georgie’s arms wound around him, her fingers digging into his back, her nails scouring his flesh, as she met his kiss, her tongue delving, twisting and turning, pushing him beyond control.
