Kate Pearce - Simply Wicked

She pointed the whip at him. “You may call me mistress. Strip off and don’t speak unless I tell you to.”

Anthony nodded and slowly removed his clothes, aware of her circling him as he undressed, her gaze flicking over his body as if she were judging horseflesh. To his surprise, she reminded him of many of the men he’d been with—supremely confident, supremely dominant and quite capable of making him do whatever she wanted him to. Peter had chosen well. He’d almost found a female version of Lord Minshom. Somehow the thought calmed Anthony’s nerves.

“Hurry up.”

The whip grazed his buttock and he jumped. When he was naked, he straightened and faced her again. She nodded slowly.

“Very nice. Now get down on your knees.”

Anthony obliged and waited as she came to stand close to him.

“The first thing you need to learn is that women have needs, they are not simply to be fucked for breeding purposes. They are to be made love to.” She used the whip to raise his chin. “You are going to learn to put your selfish desires aside and please your woman.”

She walked back toward an ornate gilt chair and sat down. “Come here.”

Anthony wasn’t sure if he was supposed to crawl or get up and walk. He decided to stand, aware that every time she barked out a command, his cock hardened even more. She didn’t look pleased at his decision, but allowed him to kneel back in front of her without comment or applying the whip.

“Put your hands behind your back and keep them there. Now pay attention.”

She opened her legs to display her shaved sex, and Anthony inhaled the scent of her arousal. He shivered as she rubbed the tip of the whip over a small knot of protruding flesh right at the top of the curved mouthlike interior.

“This is my love bud, my hard nub, my pearl, my clit—you may call it what you will, but you will learn to pay it the same amount of obsessive attention that you pay your cock. Think of it as a minicock, the source of extreme pleasure and ultimate bliss for a woman, and for you, if you tend to it carefully.”

She took the whip away. “I want you to lick it, suck it, play with it until I tell you to stop.”

Anthony forced himself not to close his eyes as he leaned forward between her widespread white thighs. Her hand encircled the back of his leather-clad head and pushed him closer.

“Do it.”

He obliged, his tongue sliding over the surprisingly slippery flesh until it met the harder knot of nerves and he was able to explore. His curiosity grew as she pressed closer, urging him on as he sucked and licked and used his teeth on the increasingly swollen bud. He forgot about time, about breathing, about anything other than pleasuring that small piece of her that seemed to bring so much joy.

His body joined the rhythm, his erect shaft bumping against the wood and brocade of the chair until he wanted to groan. He jerked as she slid the whip between his legs and tapped his cock.

“Move back; this is not for you. Slide your mouth downward, lick my folds and use your tongue like a cock to slide inside me.”

Anthony gulped in some much needed air and moved lower, fascinated by the plump mounds of her flesh, the softer lips within and the wet warm hole at her very center. He pointed his tongue and pushed inside her, felt her muscles contract around him and repeated the action until his jaw began to ache.

Her hand tightened on his head, holding him still, his tongue deep inside her.

“Give me your hand.”

He blindly raised his arm, and she gripped his wrist, settling his fingers over the swell of her breast and the lace of her corset.

“Touch my breast, squeeze my nipple, make me come.”

God, he was on fire, so eager to please her, so consumed by her enjoyment that he would’ve done anything she told him to at that point.

“That’s nice, keep it up, slide your fingers inside me alongside your tongue.”

He managed to get two fingers in with his working mouth, pumped them back and forth like a real cock as she pressed down on him. Would Marguerite like this dual penetration of tongue and fingers? Would she call his name as she came?

“Ah . . .” Her cry set off a series of clenching and tightening of her internal muscles. He was amazed at how strong the grip on his fingers became before she released him with a flood of cream. He turned his face into her thigh and fought to breathe, his cock so hard now he could feel every pulse of his heartbeat in his aroused flesh.

“Very good. Now get up and come over to the bed.”

He waited until she positioned herself on the red silk covers and then climbed up beside her. Her smile wasn’t pleasant.

“You haven’t finished yet. Unlike men, women can come more than once. Remember that.” She patted her stomach. “Straddle me but be careful not to crush me.”

Anthony was also careful not to allow his cock to brush against her hip as he swung one leg over her body and settled over her, his weight balanced on his hands and knees. His balls rested against the scratchy black lace of her corset and his shaft rose like some hideous purple stalk against his belly.

“Kiss my breasts.”

He leaned forward and did as he was told, enjoyed the softness of her skin against his mouth, the hard thrust of her nipple between his teeth. As he moved over her, his trapped cock grew exquisitely sensitive, but his training by Lord Minshom stood him in good stead, and he was able to stave off the craving to come.

Her hands drifted over his body, caressed his buttocks, the underside of his balls, his back, in an endless stream of sensation. He continued to suckle her until she was moaning with every tug of his mouth on her tight nipple.

“Stop now and sit up.”

He drew back, stared down at her, his breathing as hectic as her own. She touched his dripping shaft with one finger.

“I’m impressed that you haven’t come yet.”

He managed a shaky smile, remembering just in time not to speak.

“Perhaps I should reward you.” She considered him, her finger making torturous patterns on his throbbing wet cock. “Turn around.”

Anthony stared at her until she made an impatient noise. “Turn around until your head is over my sex and your arse is near my face. Now make me come again.”

He obliged, dipped his head and tasted her, used his tongue and teeth and fingers to make her slick and wet again. He almost choked as he felt her swallow his shaft and start to suck, matched his rhythm to hers, forgot about everything but the instinctive need to make her come before he did.

She bucked against his fingers, raised her hips to shove against his face. No finesse now, only the play of body on body in a race for completion and a release he wanted more than anything. She spasmed against his three thrusting fingers, and he couldn’t hold on any longer, letting his cum spill down her throat in hot urgent pulses.

When she released his cock, he rolled away onto his back and stared up at the white-painted ceiling. Interesting that in the final throes of passion, women acted much like men, so greedy for completion that it all became about the pursuit of the purely physical.

“You did well, young man. You have excellent stamina. Any woman should be glad to have you in her bed.”

Anthony opened his eyes and regarded the redheaded woman. His lips twitched at the thought of her giving him a certificate of approval for him to display on his bedroom wall to impress his future wife.

“Thank you. I enjoyed it.”

Her smile was warmer now.

“I’m delighted to hear it.” She waved her fingers at him. “Now off you go, I have another man to train in half an hour.”

Marguerite pressed her fingers to her lips as she watched the man pleasure the red-haired woman with his mouth and fingers. Would she have the courage to demand such delicious things from a man? More to the point, would Anthony let her tell him what to do like that?

Lisette elbowed her in the ribs. “He’s rather nice, isn’t he? I wonder what his name is.”

“Ssh.”

Marguerite was curious herself, but she had no intention of letting Lisette know that. The man’s body was muscled, his buttocks tight and high, his chest lightly furred. And his cock . . . She refused to think about how big and hard he looked, how wet and ready to slip inside a woman’s most secret place and give her what she needed.

She licked her lips as the woman lay back on the bed and invited the man to straddle her. In the candlelight, she noticed thin diagonal white lines marred the smooth surface of the man’s back. At the base of his spine it looked as if someone had tried to carve their initials into his skin. Even through her arousal, her stomach tightened. Who could’ve done that to this man?

“Lisette?” she whispered. “He appears to be scarred.”

Lisette shrugged. “A lot of Englishmen look like that; it’s a legacy of their public school education.” She patted Marguerite’s arm. “I promised to meet David; come and find me when you’ve finished watching.”

Marguerite waved a distracted good-bye and returned her attention to the room. How barbaric the English upper class were, sending their boys away from home at such a young age and leaving them to the tender mercies of men who often didn’t have their best interests at heart.

She watched the man suckle the woman’s breasts, wondered how he managed to stay so erect for so long. In her limited experience, men came far too quickly. A deep longing stirred inside her, and her womb clenched, releasing its own cream as the man reversed his position and settled to lick and finger the woman’s sex again.

She wanted that feeling so badly. With a furtive look up and down the narrow passageway, she slipped her hand through the pocket opening of her dress, pushed her petticoat out of the way and settled her fingers over her mound. Oh, God, she was so wet, so ready to be taken . . . Her body easily yielded to allow two of her fingers inside.

Could she treat Anthony like this? Tell him what she wanted, make him go down to his knees and service her? The last time she’d tried to be sexually adventurous had proved a disaster. Memories of Justin and his friend Sir Harry Jones assailed her, the terrible complexities of unrequited love. Was she brave enough to try again?

The red-haired woman started to come, her cries filling the room. Marguerite climaxed too, closing her eyes against the ecstasy in the woman’s face as she sucked the man’s cock to completion. There was power in this for a woman, but was she prepared to wield it again?

When she found the courage to look back into the room again, the man had gone, leaving the woman on the bed. Her satisfied smile made Marguerite jealous. Trying to pretend that her intimate life had died with Justin hadn’t worked at all. She had to come to terms with her needs and find what she wanted.

Marguerite brought her fingers to her lips and inhaled her own scent. She wanted to make a man beg for her, but she wanted to be made to beg even more. The salacious thought shocked her to the core. Was she more like her mother than she had ever imagined? Did she still crave the forbidden, the sinful, the unknown?

With a moan, Marguerite ripped off her mask and stumbled along the passageway, her hand on the wall to aid her flight. She pushed open the door that led back into the main hallway and collided with a hard male body.

“I beg your pardon, sir.”

“Marguerite?”

She looked up into Anthony’s surprised face and wanted to cry. Of all the people to meet at this embarrassing moment of self-revelation, why did it have to be him?

“I was looking for my sister.”

Marguerite blurted the words out as Anthony stared down at her. Her cheeks were flushed, and she looked on the verge of tears. Her slender body shook in his arms. A silver mask fell from her fingers, and she made no move to pick it up. He glanced back at the door she’d exited from.

“In there?”

She pulled out of his grasp and ineffectually patted her hair. “I just took a shortcut to avoid walking along the main corridor alone. I’m not really supposed to be here tonight.”

“Neither am I.”

She started back along the hallway, almost running in her eagerness to get away from him, but he kept after her, his gaze fixed on the back of her head.

“Marguerite, will you slow down?”

She came to an abrupt halt and turned on him.

“Why? Do you want to tell me what you are doing here? Didn’t you say you wanted to keep away from this place?”

Unaccustomed resentment filled him. Dammit, he’d come here for her.

“You said you never came here at all.”

She walked off again, reached the main staircase and started down to the main salons. He followed her, catching her arm at the bottom of the stairs.