“Yes!”
He clasped her thighs and spread them apart until all of her was visible in the mirror for him to see through her split drawers. This was a dangerous maneuver because if he weren’t careful, she might see disembodied clothing floating behind her.
“I want you to show me how you pleasure yourself,” he said.
“Here?” She gestured at the mirror. “Like this?”
“Yes.” He smoothed his palms along her legs until his hands were on her inner thighs, bordering her mons pubis. Only his gloves kept him visible in the mirror. He gently spread her outer lips with his index fingers, revealing her entrance and engorged clitoris perched above her inner lips.
“Oh, God, Cordon,” she whispered, but she obligingly placed two fingers on her clitoris, then rubbed in a back-and-forth motion.
His gaze was trapped on that spot, but he kept his hands still on her thighs. His enjoyment came from restraint.
She started off awkward and halting but eventually increased her pace and thrashed against him.
“I… I don’t know if I can do it in this position,” she said. She winced. “I’m usually on my back. Can you… help?”
It was a plea he was helpless to resist.
He lifted one hand to her breast and kneaded.
“Yes, just like that,” she said. She flexed her hips. “More, please.”
He reached behind her, grasped the phallus, then presented it for her to inspect. “Shall I try this?”
Her eyes widened. “Well, I suppose. Yes. Let’s do it.” She continued her motion along her clitoris but tilted her hips.
“Slowly,” he said. He notched the phallus at her entrance, then slid it inside. She was so slick that it went easily. When she was full, panting, rubbing herself with increasing speed, he inched the phallus out, then pushed it back in. “A tight fit, but you are taking it very well.”
“I’m close,” she whispered. “Keep doing that.”
He repeated the motion in long strokes. Not the frantic thrusting of an untried youth, but the controlled movement of a man who knew exactly what kind of pressure and tempo would achieve the best result. When she cried out and spasmed, he plunged his teeth into her neck. The moment her blood touchedhis tongue, he came powerfully, spilling himself like he hadn’t since he’d been a boy. She tasted like sunlight and fresh honey. He drank as much as he dared before drawing back, gently removing the phallus, and tossing it on the floor.
Watching her was worth any price. The gentle rise and fall of her chest. Her legs splayed and liquid dripping from her vulva.
Then he spotted a bright-red splotch on his bare thigh. He stiffened and had to stop himself from throwing her off his lap to inspect the rash closer.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
He clamored away before she saw him in the mirror. “It’s nothing.”
A heaviness settled in his chest. He coughed, and when that didn’t dislodge it, coughed again into his fist until the rattling eased. When he moved his hand away, his skin was flecked with black blood.
Chapter Fifteen
“Where are wegoing?” Kitty asked as Cordon pulled her along the lawn toward the line of waiting carriages. One moment, he’d been thrusting an ivory phallus inside her; the next, he’d been frantically throwing on his masquerade costume. She had followed suit until she’d reached the point where she’d needed help. Then Cordon had helped, although he’d tugged the strings on the back of her bodice much harder than she would have expected.
Finally, when they were sitting across from each other in the carriage, she crossed her arms and frowned. “Care to explain what happened?”
His lips thinned. “No.”
When he offered no other explanation, she slumped into the plush seat. He was a strange man, flighty and excitable one minute and stubbornly silent the next.
“Well, how many items did we complete?” she asked. She hoped it was at least five in the bedroom alone, because she dearly needed the money. If tonight had taught her anything, it was that she was not meant for a life of service. Removing Cordon’s clothes was one thing, especially when they were lost in pleasure. But putting their clothes backonhad been nowhere near as enjoyable.
If her business failed, she might still find work as a governess or a companion, but she doubted she would enjoy either ofthose professions any more than a lady’s maid. No, what she truly wanted was to attract the attention of more customers like Cordon, who could provide her with income for years to come.
He remained silent, so she began ticking off what they’d done on her fingers.
