by Lavinia Kent
“I rather enjoyed watching that with Green and Black.” Her eyes were darkening and growing more intense, her fingers tensing and relaxing about him.
He closed his eyes and just gave in to it. The warmth of skin. The friction of the gentle glide. He placed his hand about hers and changed the intensity, speeding it, pressing it. He was close, so close. He could see sparks behind his lids, feel his balls lift and tighten, feel the pressure build. He bit down on his inner cheek. Not yet. Not yet. So close. It was so hard, but so good. He wanted to stay in this moment in this second as long as he could. He felt his control slip, knew as his hips began to move in the timeless fashion, felt the clench. It was happening. It was…
Warmth. Moisture. The flick of a tongue.
His eyes opened in shock, even as he felt himself move beyond all return. Bliss at the edge of the bed, her mouth open, surrounding him. How? Why? Even as the questions formed, thought fled.
His fingers reached down and tangled in her hair, pulling her forward as he plunged into her, slamming hard.
God. So good.
He needed to be gentle.
Saints above. So good.
Heaven.
She didn’t know what she was doing.
Bliss. Name and action.
God.
Gentle.
Too late.
He pulled back and thrust again, lost beyond even single-word thought. He felt the burst, exquisite sensation filling him. Couldn’t hold back. Slammed forward again. And again. God. Heaven. Bliss. Bliss. Bliss.
On and on it went, his hips locking and thrusting. Too much. God. Too much.
Bliss. Bliss.
His pelvis pushed forward, locked, every muscle straining, nothing existing except the warmth of her mouth, the heaven of her lips.
He felt the full spurt, knew he filled her, knew he should pull back, knew…
She sucked deep and the tension filled him again. It was impossible. There was no more, but…
“Bliss.” The cry filled the room.
His fingers pressed her tight, his hips pressing forward with all that he was and…
All was black. All was white. All was Bliss.
And it was over.
His body sagged. His eyes closed. He needed to apologize, to beg her forgiveness, to explain…He didn’t know what but something. He’d never thrust with such force into eager lips before, never pushed again and again, granting no mercy. And with Bliss, with sweet untried Bliss.
He opened his eyes slowly, dreading what he would see.
And saw her grin. It spread across her face filling both cheeks, wider than he’d ever seen.
“I did that rather well, didn’t I?” She smiled.
“I am sorry. I didn’t mean to…” he began.
“Sorry for what? I did do it right, didn’t I? Or was I supposed to pull back? I know Green did, but I wanted to taste you, to truly feel what happened to you, to be part of it. Was that wrong? Should I have done it differently?” Her grin began to slip.
“No, you were perfect.” The fingers that still lay tangled in hair brushed down to cup her cheek. He sat beside her on the bed. “It is merely that I was more forceful, more out of control than I liked. I would not like to risk truly hurting you.”
“But I made you that way, that out of control? It was because of me you felt that way?”
A cautious yes.
“Then how can I complain?”
“I did not say that you complained, merely that I should have been gentler.”
She pulled away from him, moving to sit, pushing her skirts down until she was completely covered. “Why should you have been gentler? Am I not capable of deciding what I like? I liked that. I relished it. I want to do it again, but with more time to play first, to run my tongue about your length, to feel the changes of your cock within my mouth, to…”
“Enough,” he commanded. “I am as spent as I’ve ever been and you have me growing hard again.”
“I do?” She leaned forward, eager to see.
He was going to have to work on command. Placing a hand upon her chest, he pushed her back upon the pillows—and prepared to push her in other ways. “You don’t like it when others make decisions for you, do you?”
“Does anybody?” She pulled her knees up to her chest.
“Perhaps not, but I see fires light in your eyes whenever you feel pushed. I am not sure that is quite so usual.”
She rested her chin upon her knees. “I don’t know. I think I’ve been responsible for myself for so long that I know no other way. Maybe I can blame it on Swanston.” The faintest hint of a smile. “After my mother’s death we all pretty much did what we wanted, but then he’d come back from school and try to add some order to the situation. I always resented that since I would be managing just fine. I’d have the cook cooking and the maids cleaning, but when he came home he would change how everything was done. When I am given orders, not choices, I always feel that I am being told the way I would do it is not good enough.”
His breath caught as her words penetrated. He was used to controlling everything and everyone about him. He’d inherited the title as a child and from that point forward his word had been near law. The elderly uncle who’d acted as his guardian had rarely bothered to visit the estate and when he had he’d only nodded at Duldon’s efforts. He tried to imagine what it would have been like to be Bliss, young and in the midst of trying to care for her wild family only to have Swanston return in all his glorious competence to take over. He’d heard Swanston’s stories of that time period and doubted he’d even noticed his sister’s efforts. “You’ve always been good enough for me, more than good enough, Bliss.”
“Not always.”
Her words made him feel more vulnerable than sitting beside her naked as she remained fully dressed, not that that had bothered him much beyond a desire to get her out of her clothes. “I am not sure what you mean.”
She was quiet, her face turned down to her knees so that he could not see her face and her words were muffled. “When I was seventeen I wasn’t enough.”
He pushed himself fully onto the bed and sat beside her. His head tilted back into the pillows. When she’d been seventeen, he’d been twenty-five. It had been a wonderful year. The year he’d truly discovered who he was and what he’d wanted in life. A year he’d worked hard and played just as hard. And Bliss—he did remember Bliss that year. He remembered seeing her at a ball and being overcome by her perfect young beauty. She’d made him feel seventeen again himself, randy and ready to pop his breeches in public. What he didn’t remember was turning her away in any fashion, or implying that she was not enough. She’d always been enough. “I must admit that I am still not sure to what you refer.”
Bliss turned her face from him. It was not enough that he could not see it, she must actually face away. “You don’t remember.”
Her words ate at him. He could feel her belief in her lack of importance in them. She did not question, she merely flatly stated. “I don’t know if I remember if you won’t tell me what this is about.”
“Clearly it was not important to you.”
She was killing him. “How can I know if you won’t tell me what it is?”
She said nothing, although her shoulders heaved a little.
Don’t let her cry. Sex and play could bring out a strange cacophony of emotions, but he was not prepared for her tears, not now—not when something crucial was flying about and he could not quite catch it. “Please tell me, Bliss.”
A gasp of air, a straightening of shoulders, and she lifted her head. She did not turn to him, but he could see the gentle curve of one cheek. Her hair was escaping its pins and beginning to curl in a riot about her face. “It is no longer important. I was young and have probably put too much importance on something very small and insignificant. It made no true difference in my life and I have moved past it. I have come to understand that wishing does not make the world the way I wish it. I learned that with my mother and
I learned it again with you.”
She had been young, and he must admit that he could not believe he would not remember if it truly had been important. No, that was discounting her. “Please tell me, Bliss. If it is unimportant what can it hurt to tell me? And if it is important surely then I need to know.”
She turned to him now, her face quiet. “No, Stephan. I think now it is unimportant. I think we should think only of the present.” She reached out and placed a hand upon his shoulder, her fingers warm silk. “I have only this one night and there is so much that I still wish to learn, so much I still need to learn.”
They had so much more than one night, but he would not argue. He imagined that they had a lifetime of learning about each other. A lifetime meant he could learn her secrets later. He did not need to push when she was on the edge of vulnerability, at least not this time. Next time, he might not feel so generous. And he was sure there would be a next time. “And what do you still need to learn?” He had his own ideas, but was happy to indulge her as well.
“I want to watch you get hard.” Her eyes dropped to his sex.
It shifted and began to grow beneath her gaze. “That should not be difficult.”
“I see that. May I touch?”
“You do not need to ask. However, it would help things along if you’d remove a few items—or more—of clothing.”
Still staring at his cock, she nibbled on her lip in the manner that meant she was considering. He was learning that she bit her lips for many reasons and they were each distinct. Worry. Desire. Consideration. All caused her to chew and worry in a slightly different fashion.
“Can I touch you again first? I want to know what it is like at each different stage.”
She would. “I did say you did not need to ask, but I would suggest you keep it short—or you will feel all the stages at once. Normally I take some time to recover between bouts, but with you I feel near ready to go again.”
Again, she nibbled her lips and he could see the careful thought behind her eyes. With care she held out a single finger and—poked him. She actually poked him.
Chapter Eighteen
That was different. Bliss pressed the tip of her finger against the semi-hard cock and considered. How could flesh change so much? A few minutes ago he’d been hard as a steel bar and now…well, she couldn’t think of a description that Stephan wouldn’t find insulting, but he was definitely not steel. Maybe if she went with one of the softer metals. Would he object if she described his cock as pure gold?
The giggle bubbled up within her and she couldn’t hold it back.
Stephan’s lips firmed, but she could see the laughter hiding in his eyes. “I must tell you that it’s bad enough to poke a man in the jewels, but one should certainly never laugh about it afterward. It will quite shrivel him down a size or two.”
That was not helping. Another laugh bubbled from her lips. Gold and jewels, she could picture it now. “You do not look to be shrinking in size. If anything the opposite.”
“Well, it is true that I am not just any man.”
“Yes, I do believe you said something about being a saint, but I’ve never heard of a saint with such an attribute.”
He leaned his head back against the pillows and laughed. “No, I was not thinking of my sainthood at this moment. I was trying to understand how you are still wearing all of your clothing.”
She ran her finger over him again, so soft and yet she could feel the power and strength returning. “How does it work?”
“What?” There was no mistaking the confusion in his voice.
“What makes it get hard? I’ve never seen anything like it. Do you know of anything that changes in the same way? It is most strange.” She leaned forward and considered it with care. “It gets darker in color too. For a few moments there it was of normal skin tone, but it is becoming a deeper shade. And it is beginning to throb here on the underside. Is that normal?”
He laughed again, deep in his chest, the sprinkling of blond hairs dancing. “There truly is no woman like you, Bliss. I know there is a vein on the underside and yes, it does throb under the proper circumstance. I cannot quite say if it is normal as I have never had this discussion with another man or examined another prick. I only know what mine does, and it is normal for me. As for how it works, I’ve never thought about it. I just know that it does and that I am quite glad of that. I would suppose blood flow is involved—the vein, the throbbing and such, but I’ve never heard it explained. Perhaps a physician or surgeon would know, but I do not.”
“Blood makes sense I suppose. I was thinking it might be air. The only thing I can think of that is similar is blowing up a pig’s bladder or perhaps one of those great balloons that sometimes rise in the park. Or a frog’s throat. I think that happens sometimes when they croak in a way that is almost song.”
“I don’t know whether to laugh or cry,” he said, pushing himself up to sitting. “I could not have imagined this conversation in a thousand years. And I am quite sure that it is not air. Next you will be asking if it becomes flatulent.”
“I will not.” Although, if she thought about it, it was a good question. Urine and male seed came out of it. Did anything else?
“Then stop looking at it like that. A moment ago I could not have imagined growing soft while sitting beside you in bed, but I must confess I am beginning to fear. Turn around and let me have at your laces so we can get that gown off you and move on to something besides discussing if my cock is filled with hot air. It is not and we will leave the conversation there. I have more pleasurable plans for this evening.”
She couldn’t really blame him. From what she knew of men they did not like to think of any part of them being filled with hot air and she knew they felt more strongly about their privates than any other parts, including their brains. At least, that was true of her brothers. She’d heard enough whispered conversations between her brothers and their friends to know that they did regard the things as most valuable and to be bragged of. Perhaps her earlier thoughts of gold had not been too far off.
“Stop it.”
“What?” She blinked over at him.
“I am beginning to think you are still nervous of undressing. I have seen your breasts. I have seen your sex. Are you really still embarrassed by the in-between bits?”
Was she? She supposed she was. “It somehow feels different when you put it all together. I can see that you like the pieces, but what if you don’t like the whole?”
“I will explain this once and then you will turn around and let me unlace you or I will turn you over my knee and make your ass even redder. No, don’t look at me like that’s a pleasant thought or you will force me to think of a different threat. I am a man. And being a man, I like all the parts separate and together. I cannot say that there are no exceptions, but as a whole men like women’s bodies and are not a quarter as picky as women themselves. I am not sure that I have ever seen a breast I did not like. Even when I don’t like the woman, I tend to react well to the breast. Now, that said, I believe that you may have the prettiest breasts and other bits that I have ever seen. You really are exquisite. The last thing that you need to worry about is whether I will find you attractive. I already do and unless you are suddenly to reveal that you have a cock of your own or fifteen breasts there is no possibility that I will not regard you as one of the best things I have ever seen or will ever see. And if I think about it, fifteen breasts might not be a deterrent.”
Oh. She considered his words. He found all women, or at least almost all women, attractive, and therefore he would find her so. She actually liked that, liked that he just liked women. And he found her exquisite. That certainly had the fires in her belly rising again. It would be quite lovely to have him look at all of her the way he looked at the pieces. Just the thought of the way he stared at her breasts in the pantry was enough to make her light-headed.
And she had seen just enough of his stare at her other parts to know that he’d found them equa
lly desirable. And he’d seemed to find them only more so after he’d warmed them with his hand. She wasn’t quite sure how she felt about that last. In fact…
“Bliss.” Stephan said her name with great deliberation. “You are doing it again. Turn about and let me reach your back.”
Oh dear, she supposed she was. Taking off her dress didn’t seem as strange as it had when she’d first entered the room, but she had to admit that she was delaying. Working to relax her shoulders, she rolled on her side and presented him with her back.
The sweetest, softest kiss landed upon her back just below her neck. That was unexpected; she’d never expected that Stephan had the slightest edge of romance in him and now it was beginning to seep out in the most wonderful of places. She leaned back into his kiss, even as she felt his fingers at her laces, moving with far more efficiency than she wanted to think about.
“Who chooses your undergarments?” he asked, his lips nibbling at the loose curls on her neck.
“What?” She hated questioning his every word, but he kept jumping ahead of her thoughts. It was quite unfair considering how often he seemed to just read her mind.
“Your clothing is often awful, but from what I’ve seen of your chemises and corsets they are really quite lovely.”
They were going to discuss this now? “You think my clothing is awful?”
“You do seem to be somewhat lacking an understanding of what suits you.”
“I try to choose garments that are cheerful and happy. I want to help put people in a good mood.” And what was wrong with her clothing? The colors were bright and the styles current.
“I think the only person last night’s dress put in a good mood was Miss Swilp. I rather imagine she enjoyed seeing you looking like a bumblebee in that shade of yellow.”
“I did not look like a bumblebee. I didn’t have any black.” He clearly didn’t know what he was talking about.
