She’d been molded by a restrictive mother trying to force her onto a narrow life path, but she wanted to stray. He read it in her eyes. Felt it when she brushed her fingers over his knuckles, her touch so tentative, more of a whisper than a touch.
She wanted him to corrupt her, teach her about life, awaken her passions, take control and give her the thrills she craved.
“You want me to tell you about it.”
She nodded. “Only words.”
He took a breath, struggling for control. He couldn’t give her those thrills, but he could tell her about them. It didn’t make sense, but he didn’t care.
“I’d lay my coat down on the grass. Then, I’d ease you down onto it.”
“That much we can do, no?”
Yes, they could do that much. And nothing more.
He laid his coat down and then eased her down onto it next to him and bent to whisper in her ear. “I’d take my cues from you. If you were eager, if you moaned my name softly and pulled me against you, we’d move swiftly. Or if you wanted me to take my time, to linger, I’d tease you first before I kissed you. Holding my lips over yours, not kissing you, not yet, learning the shape of you with my hands first, the silk of your skin. Touch before taste. I’d savor the lingering scent of the rose sachet you keep with your linens.”
She shifted restlessly, laying her head on his shoulder.
“And finally I’d kiss you. Take your lips with mine, fill your mouth with my tongue, invade you, taste you. I’d wrap my hand around the back of your neck and tip you up for my invasion. I might use both hands, my thumbs tilting your chin up, so that you can feel how big my hands are, how small and delicate your neck is in my hands. I’d feel the pulse at the base of your neck with my thumb, press softly, show you that I’m in control. Listen for your response. And then, as our kiss deepened and you moved restlessly beneath me, I’d know that you wanted more. I’d whisper in your ear, ‘I’m going to touch you now. Do you want me to touch you?’”
She made a little whimpering noise.
“You’d moan and command me to touch you. I’d slide my hands inside your bodice, fill myhands with your soft breasts, flick my thumbs across your nipples until they were hard and sensitive. I’d have to taste you there. I’d have to suck on your nipples, and while I sucked and licked and tasted my fill, you’d begin to squirm under me, your thighs would part, and you’d seek my arousal through your skirts, you’d grind up against me, and you’d feel me nudging between your thighs. I’d push your skirts up, spread your thighs with my palms, look at your body in the moonlight, spread you for my view.”
She gasped. “You would look at me so openly?”
“I’d want to see your secrets before I tasted them.”
“Tasted...?”
“I’d give you pleasure with my fingers, inside you, moving over you. Then I’d move down your body, spread your thighs with my hands, hold them open while I slid my tongue over your secret places, dipping inside you, tasting your sweetness, bringing you to pleasure with my tongue. Only then, after I’d worked until you found your pleasure, then I’d think about my own. I’d ask if you wanted to touch me, discover what I’m famous for.”
Sandrine snorted. “Famous, eh?”
“Deservedly so. And you’d say, ‘Yes, yes!’ and you’d wrap your small hand around my hard cock, and you’d thrill with the knowledge that you were in control, that you could give me pleasure or you could get up and leave me cold, sweating with need, praying for release. You’d look at me with a wicked glint in your eyes, and you’d ask if I wanted more and I’d choke out ayes. I’d tell you to use your mouth. I’d say, ‘Take my cock in your hand and guide it between your lips. Swirl your tongue around the head.’”
He heard her sharp intake of breath and smiled against her hair. “Shall I continue my list of wicked things we’d do together, or have you had enough?”
“I—I would place my mouth on your...”
“Endowment. Or cock, as I like to call it. You’d suck me inside your mouth, and it would feel so heavenly I’d want to be inside you instead. I’d lift your head, and I’d tell you to lie back and spread your thighs. I’d wrap my cock with a protective sheath and then I’d position myself at your entrance, and I’d slowly enter you until I was deep inside you.”
“Oh.” She buried her head against his chest. “Go on...”
“You’d lock your legs around my hips and tell me to ride faster, harder.”
Her breathing quickened, and her chest rose and fell rapidly.
“I’d rock into you,” he whispered in her ear. “Then I’d lift you by your hips and place you on top of me in a seated position. Once you were on top you’d set the pace and how deeply I was allowed to reach. You’d drive me mad by lifting away, not allowing me to thrust deep enough. You’d enjoy teasing me, making me sweat and groan.”
“I would be the one in control?”
“Completely. But then you’d relinquish that control to me. Your head would fall onto myshoulder, you’d moan and rock back and forth, your heels crossed behind my back. I’d hold your hips, and I wouldn’t restrain myself any longer. I’m not good for much in this life but I’m good at this. I know how to give pleasure, and I know how to take it, master it, set you free by making you feel safe enough to relinquish control to me.”
He stroked his finger down her cheek. The gentlest of touches. Only a fraction, the faintest hint, of how he wanted to touch her.
“I’d be so proud of the noises you’d make, the urgent plea in your voice. I’d bury my fingers in your hair and pull your head back. Bite your throat. Take control. You’d ask me to be a little bit rough with you. You’d want to be wicked. And I’m the devil who would get you there. I’d flip you over and ride you from behind. And the pleasure would grip us tightly, wring us out, so sweet and wild. And we’d ride the pleasure, the aftershocks, together, clasped in each other’s arms.”