Page List


Font:  

“Let me show you something else,” he said then.

“Oh gods, is this not enough?”

“Not nearly.” He chuckled and attached several dangling beads from both rings, giving them weight, and added titillation, he hoped.

Her only response was a whimper and leaning her head back farther on his shoulder, exposing her neck and arching her breasts even more.

“How does it feel?” he asked against her ear.

“Wicked.”

“And wonderful?”

She nodded.

“We are going to sit down now, Drifa, so that I may teach you something.” Before she could protest yet again, he sank down to the marble floor and arranged her between his thighs, then he spread her wide so that she might see her womanparts. He doubted she had ever looked there afore. “Dost see how wet you are for me?”

He used the fingertips of both hands to part her farther. “And see that bud there that is swollen and more ruddy than the folds around it? That is the seat of a woman’s pleasure. Just strumming it can bring some women to peak.”

“Are you going to strum it?”

He shook his head. “I am going to grow it bigger and warmer ’til you are so hungry for a peaking you will beg me to enter you.”

“I do not like this game.” She tried to close her legs and rise, but he would not allow that. Instead he reached for yet another vial in his chest, and told her, “This is a special oil that makes whatever skin it touches grow hot and throb. It takes only one drop to ...” He let the stopper hang over her open folds, and one drop fell exactly where he wanted.

Almost immediately she was gaping at what was happening before her eyes. “Do something. Oh, oh, I burn, I yearn. Nay, I throb. Oh, do something, you brute.”

“In a moment.” He dipped the stopper back in the vial and put one droplet on each of her nipples. They grew before his eyes and became even redder.

“Release me. I must touch myself.”

That remark caused him to about peak, which was way too soon. “Mayhap next time.”

He put his middle finger between her fold and spread the fluid back and forth over the bud, which was now twice its original size. Then he used the same fingertip to caress her folds and enter her inner channel itself.

She was weeping and crying her ecstasy in almost a continual croon now. He released the scarf from her wrists and guided her down so that her hands and knees were all on the floor and she was facing the mirror. Then, after hesitating only a moment, he added two more beads to each nipple ring, causing her breasts to be drawn down slightly.

“Look at you, Drifa. Look at us.”

“I look like a wild woman,” she whined. “I look like a wild dog.”

“Nay, you look beautiful.”

He took her, from behind. When he thrust into her, her breasts bobbed with their weights. He soothed and aroused them further with his fingertips, flicking back and forth across them. Then he did the same to the bud betwixt her legs.

“Do you want me to stop, Drifa?” He paused with the tip of his cock barely inside her. “Tell me what you want.”

She tried to wriggle her behind against him to draw him in, but he would have naught of that. “Tell me,” he demanded.

“I want you,” she finally begged. “Now.”

“Whate’er you want, dearling.” He pounded her then with long and slow strokes, alternating with short and hard. She peaked not once, or twice, but thrice afore she was satisfied, and he was able to take his own joy.

Later, as he soothed her body in his bed, and her eyes drooped with weariness, he said, “Thank you, Drifa.”

“For what?” she murmured against his chest and nestled closer, one leg thrown over his thighs.

“For giving me such pleasure. For taking your own pleasure in sexplay that was a mite ... extreme.”


Tags: Sandra Hill Historical