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bsp; Chapter 4
Lillian had washed out her bra and panties and left them drying in the bathroom before turning in, and now braced herself as Mitchell reached around her and unbuttoned the shirt, wondering what the heck she was doing. She was done taking orders from men, wasn’t she? He hadn’t asked for her trust, he’d insisted on it. The seductive promise interlaced with the deep voiced command had tugged at something inside her, an ache for what he was promising, and prompted her to agree just to see where this would go.
She sucked in a deep breath as the shirt fell open and the warmth from the fireplace added to the instant heat of his nails scraping across her nipples. How long had it been since she’d allowed herself to enjoy a man’s touch? Months, she figured, and hadn’t cared until now. One touch from Mitchell and she craved more.
“Very good, Lillian. I like your body, so soft,” he cupped her breasts, “and dainty.” Her small fleshy mounds filled the palm of his hands. “And here,” he brushed her nipples with his thumbs, “so hard and quick to respond. You will tell me if I do anything that triggers a bad memory or response.”
“Bossy,” she huffed on an exasperated laugh. “Have I mentioned I don’t like bossy men?”
“A time or two.” Releasing her breasts, he gathered the sides of the shirt and pulled them back, doing some twists and tucks until the wadded material rested in a knot against her lower back.
A shiver raced down Lillian’s spine as his fingers trailed across her exposed buttocks, drawing goosebumps and a new awareness of that part of her body. And then he slapped her cheek, nothing more than the bounce of his hand on her flesh, the minor sting quickly changing to a warm throb. She wanted to question him but didn’t trust her voice not to betray the odd quiver of embarrassing arousal that smack produced. Another light tap fell on her other buttock and she held her breath against the same response.
“Mitchell,” she gasped as he slid one hand down between her cheeks, grazing her private rear orifice while cupping his other hand between her legs from the front.
“You surprise me, in a good way, pet. I thought I would have to coax a response from you, and yet you’re already damp.” He pressed both hands against her sensitive flesh, the pressure drawing more of her cream.
Shaken in more ways than one, she grumbled, “I thought I wouldn’t have to hear you call me pet again.”
“I slipped. I’ll make it up to you.” Mitchell delivered another teasing swat to her vulnerable backside followed by a slow glide of one finger along her pussy seam, a tickle that distracted from the slight sting.
Lillian had never experienced such focused foreplay or such attention to her butt. She didn’t know if she liked it so much because she needed the distraction from the emotional upheaval of the past six weeks or because it had been so long since she’d enjoyed the pleasures of a man’s touch that she would take anything she could get. She wanted to come back with a sharp retort, but he took that moment to part her labia and work two fingers into her sheath, taking his time to graze along sensitive nerve endings begging for attention.
“Yes,” she groaned as he pulled back to circle her clit with one finger.
“No bad moments?” Mitchell asked, pulling out of her to tease her pussy lips with his damp fingers.
She shook her head, aching for more. “No, I’m fine.”
“You’ll set yourself up for additional heartache if someone asks if you’re okay and you toss out that standard comeback when it’s not true,” he warned in a silky whisper, his lips brushing her earlobe.
She blew out a frustrated breath as goosebumps popped up along her neck and arms. “But it is true now, and now is all that matters.” Pushing her hips back, she pled, “Please don’t make me wait.”
“Damn if you’re not hard to resist, and I wouldn’t admit that to just anyone.”
Any other time and place, that confession would stroke her ego, but the need to escape from the desolation that had consumed her for so long took precedence. Mitchell thrust back up inside her and Lillian exhaled on a relieved breath before he robbed her of it by finger-fucking her with deep, well-aimed strokes. He slid the hand nestled between her buttocks around her waist and up to her breasts to squeeze one round globe.
Pleasure engulfed her body as he plucked at a nipple and her clit, the little squeezes zapping the tender buds with arousing heat. She tightened her hands on the edge of the mantel, grateful now for his order to keep them there. Bracing her locked arms aided in keeping her anchored, both physically and mentally, while she fought against giving in to her wobbly legs and degrading memories.
“Let go if you’re ready, Lillian. I’m right here to catch you.”
The promise, given in that toe-curling guttural tone, accompanied the steady milking of her swollen bundle of nerves. She quaked as arousal spiked out of control, the first pop of pleasure replacing the pain of her last encounter, the shock to her battered system wrenching a cry from her throat. A surge of pure delight rushed through her body as she bucked against his marauding hand and pushed against his hold on her breast. For a few blissful moments, she was swept away on a tidal wave of pleasure that drenched her body and drowned her sorrow.
“Again,” he ordered while she was still relishing the ebbing smaller contractions of her orgasm. He went deep again, so deep, so fast and hard, the plunge brought her up on her toes.
“I don’t think I can,” she moaned, but that didn’t stop her from arching back and accepting another twist of his wrist as he withdrew and then returned to continue to stoke the damp heat in her quivering pussy.
“Yes, you can,” he insisted, and then set about proving it as he alternated thrusting with hard pressure against her clit and moved back and forth between her nipples, pinching, rolling and caressing the throbbing tips.
“Oh, God.” Drenched in heated pleasure, Lillian embraced the sweeping wave of another climax, shaken by how fast his hands produced another one, longing for the pleasure to continue as she descended from the exultant high. Once it stopped completely, reality would rear its ugly head and she wanted to stave off facing her loss again for as long as possible. “Mitchell, don’t stop,” she pleaded without looking back at him, too mortified by the depth of her uncharacteristic degeneracy.
Mitchell searched for his control as Lillian arched into his hands, her tortured plea cutting through his stoic resistance to sinking his cock between her silken folds. Her cum soaked his fingers, her slick walls still spasming around them as he soothed the pinches to her nipples with light caresses. The firelight bathed her pale, bowed body in a burnt orange glow, emphasizing the stark whiteness of her skin and the colored bruising around her ribs. He could see the side view of the soft fullness of her small breasts and feel the contrasting stiffness of the turgid tips against his fingertips.
She presented a temptation he found hard to resist, more so after she’d willingly kept her hands where he had positioned them. He doubted a hidden core of submissiveness compelled her to obey that order; she hadn’t portrayed a hint of compliancy since he found her until now, so there must be another reason she hadn’t slipped from the pose.
“I planned to spend the week alone, so I don’t have a condom.” With slow deliberation, he pulled out of her pussy, her low groan of disappointment mirroring what he felt.
“I’m on the pill but haven’t taken them in two days since they’re still packed in my car.” She swiveled her head, her cascade of auburn hair swinging over her upper arm as she slowly lowered her hands.
