“Y-you should be in your study now,” she stammered. “Is that not what you do after dinner?”
Yet she would be so sorely disappointed if he left her right now. The way he was touching her gave her a jolt that went right to her core.
“No,” he growled as he nuzzled her neck. His hands moved up her thighs, baring more of her skin. “After you have made me eat that abominable tart, I deserve something truly sweet to take the bad taste off my tongue.”
Madeline’s breath caught. “Kenneth…”
He did not answer with words. His hands settled on the soft skin of her inner thighs, and he pushed them apart slowly, as if he wanted her to watch him do it. She whimpered as she realized how exposed she was to him. He had spanked her before. He had touched her to the peak of pleasure, but tonight, she knew he had different plans.
“Lie back,” he said.
It was not a request, and she knew better than to treat it as one. When she hesitated, his hand pressed flat against her chest and guided her down until her shoulders met the cool linen and her legs hung over the edge of the table.
“Good,” he murmured. “Now keep still for me, Madeline.”
He placed his hands under her buttocks, lifting her slightly to position her where his mouth was at the ready. At the first swipe of his tongue, Madeline let out a strangled cry.
“Kenneth—”
“Quiet,” he said, and bent his head.
The next stroke of his tongue elicited a cry from her. He repeated it, slower this time, gliding through her in one long pass that caused her hips to lift off the table before she could stop them. He immediately pressed them back down, his forearm settling heavily across her belly to keep her there.
“I told you to keep still,” he said. “Do not make me hold you down, Madeline.”
“I... I cannot help it,” she gasped.
“You will learn.”
And then he set about tormenting her in earnest, his mouth working everywhere but the one place that ached for him most. He circled it, teased around it, drew it out until she was writhing beneath his arm and sobbing his name. Only when she had given up all pretense of composure did he finally close his lips around the swollen bud at her center.
Madeline felt herself rushing toward the edge, and he stopped.
He lifted his head, with an expression that was almost tender despite its cruelty. “Not yet,” he said.
“Kenneth, please.” She was beyond shame now.
“Please, what?”
“Please, let me—”
“You made me eat that wretched tart.” He dragged a single fingertip through her wetness. “You provoked me at my own table. You wore that scandalous gown to see what I might do.” His voice dropped lower. “You will have what you want when I decide to give it to you, and not a moment before.”
She was trembling all over now, so tense she felt like she might cry. He paused for a moment longer, watching her, before he lowered his mouth again and slid two thick fingers inside her in one smooth motion.
She cried out. He curled his fingers, finding that hidden spot that made her vision blur, and worked it without mercy while his tongue returned to her aching peak. Every motion had turned deliberate and demanding, his fingers pumping deep and his mouth devouring her until she could hardly breathe.
“I cannot,” she gasped, feeling the beginnings of a violent trembling.
She was not pretending to be ill this time. She was dying.
“That is it,” he growled against her. “Come for me now, Madeline.”
Finally, her hips jutted forward, and she cried aloud as the punishing climax crashed over her. Her body clenched around his fingers in helpless waves, and still he would not stop. He drew her climax out, gentling only when her cries softened into spent little sobs, and her trembling thighs went slack in his hands.
It was only then that Kenneth rose to his feet and stumbled backward. He was panting, and he wiped his wet lips while locking his gaze on her. Her cheeks burned at the way he was watching her. It was the most emotion she had seen from him.
Arrogance. Triumph. Pride. There was also a hint of possessiveness. After all, the man had chosen what to eat after that tart destroyed his taste buds.
