Finally, panting, he unclenched his fists and lay back.
She promptly slid up his length, and, holding the tip in her mouth, swirled her tongue around the hard ridge forming the head.
“Mistress!” he yelled. Fire swirled at the base of his spine, his bollocks drawing up and his buttocks and stomach tightening to stop himself from exploding.
She ignored him and sucked him all the way in again, her lips hitting her hand still holding the stem. Twice more she glided him in and out at a snail’s pace with him groaning and grunting, and engaging every thought and muscle and trick he could fathom to avoid spilling without permission.
Then she sped up.
“Nonononono…”
What felt like a year after her lips had first touched him, fingers tapped his hip thrice. Exulting, he allowed his hips to make miniature thrusts at a gallop, shuddering.
Her lips stayed firm around him mid-shaft, hitting her hand at the base on each thrust, her tongue flicking his frenulum in a masterfully choreographed dance.
“Mistre—” Meaning to warn her, he lost control of his body when his mind refocused to form words, and he spurted, twisting his hips up now, seeking the continued warmth of her mouth. Blazes, was that allowed, or considered impolite? He stopped worrying about it and reveled, knowing that she was untied and could retreat at any time. The wet heat of her mouth was better than anything he’d experienced, anything he could have dreamed. His cock pulsed against her, sending jet after jet into that sweet tunnel.
Charlotte stayed with him through it all, sucking him in, swallowing.
Her throat closing about his tip to ingest his seed made him spurt more, his hands cramping around their ties in sensual agony.
After long minutes, he sagged, dropping his hips and opening fists. His stomach muscles unclenched, and he dropped his head against the pillows.
She gentled her mouth, swiping up and down once to clean him, before raising her head, lips shiny with both of their liquids.
William’s blinks grew longer and longer, his energy sapped. After all that time with muscles tensed, mind centered on following orders and not pre-empting them, he was exhausted. He’d offer to return the favor in a moment, he just needed a second or two to recover.
He panted out a heartfelt, “Thank you, oh thank you, Mistress.”
Her satisfied smirk the last thing he saw as his eyes fluttered closed.
* * * *
Pushing back from the desk, William swore and ran his hands through his hair.
He’d barely had two hours to savor Charlotte’s ministrations of the prior evening before the latest disaster in his father’s mismanagement had plunged him back into despair. Funds he’d hoped to access to cover much-needed roof repairs for their stables at the country house had been redirected to invest in a high-risk venture led by one of the earl’s cronies.
Heaven save me from the drunken aristocracy.
Speaking of which, he hadn’t seen South in several days and his friend’s drinking had been accelerating since Easter term at university. Yet another person he felt responsible for, as South’s family lived up near the Scottish border and hated London life. He knew South struggled more than he did at Oxford, and was at loose ends much of the summer. William had often wished he could switch roles with South. Even loneliness might be better than the weight of the people depending on the earldom. However, as he spent more time with Charlotte, his wishes had changed.
Jotting a note to have a servant send around to South, he added a note to Charlotte. He owed her an apology, a punishment, or an orgasm for leaving without ensuring her satisfaction, but she’d bustled him out of the house after giving him an hour nap. And now, he’d be unable to make it up to her for another day or two.
“Mama, have you seen this particular debacle of an investment?” He carried over the document he’d found.
“Another one?” she asked with a sigh.
“I’m afraid so. And it appears it will be at least a year and a half before we know if we’ll even get our initial investment back. It’s another shipping venture.”
“Which means all or nothing. If they load those ships too heavy to try to cut costs like they did last time, we might lose it all.”
“Could we ask the tenant farmers to make a temporary roof repair and offer to take a lower percentage of their yield next season?” A shudder went through him at the alternative, which was turning people out of work. He stifled a sigh and a wish for a stiff drink. That was the last thing Mama needed—another man relying on drink to allay his nerves. But he felt woefully unprepared to make these decisions.
His mother stared at the fire, tapping her finger on her chin, which he knew meant she was considering all the possibilities.
“’Twould have to be this harvest, not next year. Their time would otherwise be spent on their crops. And the repair would have to be done after Michaelmas, but that might also help it last through the winter.” She was nodding by the time she finished. “’Tis an excellent idea, William. Please write to the steward there and propose it, and ask him to expedite his response so we know whether we need to find another solution.”
Chapter Fourteen
