Her hips rolled, and she worked herself up and down on his finger, passionate and wholly feminine, sensual and lush. Gregor had no doubt that she could claim any man, no matter where his tastes lay. More skilled and lushly feminine than a courtesan she was, and devoid of shame.
That did not excuse the fact that she thought herself beyond his instruction. She was about to come-off, but she had forgotten her task.
With his free hand he gripped her by the chin, forci
ng her to look at him. “Not innocent enough, my dear. Not by any means…”
“But sire—”
“You look too brazen, too greedy and eager for a man to satisfy your needs.” And didn’t that make him all the more hard for her?
“I cannot help it.” She wriggled and shifted, attempting to play the part and break the easy stride she had gained. Instead she acted as if she was unsure what she was doing. Her cheeks flamed, but it was not shame nor innocence, it was sheer, demanding lust.
“No.” Gregor withdrew his hand. “You must not break with the picture you have created!”
She stared at him in disbelief, her lips parted.
With a wry laugh, he shifted her away from the chair. “Now you will see how serious I am.”
Sitting down on the chair, he pulled her quickly to him, forcing her facedown over his lap.
“Sire. Mister Ramsay!”
With one hand between her shoulder blades, holding her in place, he hauled her skirts up and slapped her arse. The twin globes of her bottom bounced up in response, her body jolting.
“You are a cruel man,” she exclaimed. “I am on fire.” Any attempt she had been making to play the part had now fully departed, for she glared at him.
He slapped her again, several rounds on both buttocks in quick succession. When he paused, the attractive curve of her rump and the heat coming off her made him realize that there was, apparently, no easy remedy to this, for everything he did only seemed to pleasure her more and make his own situation more dire. Only the thought that his enemy would be totally unable to resist her forced him on.
“I see no blushing innocent here,” he declared, with no small amount of relish as he delivered another stinging slap to her soft flesh.
She clenched her fists and pummeled his thigh angrily, but her arse lifted higher still. He landed another smack on each buttock, noting with satisfaction how her pale flesh showed the imprint of his hand, and how her moans grew more wanton.
“Still you sound brazen and demanding. You are like a bitch in heat.”
“Damn you,” she cried over her shoulder, “I am trying, but you are making my situation even worse.”
Gregor restrained comment, and for a moment he considered leaving her on the edge of release for the rest of the day, in order to make her earn it by getting it right. But for some reason he couldn’t quite muster that level of persuasion. Instead, he stroked his hand over the soft curve of her buttock.
The flesh trembled and her head lowered, her posture submissive once more. Gregor smiled to himself, for he sensed they had reached a level of understanding at last.
“This?” He slapped her again, making sure she felt it where her puss was pushed out between her open thighs, as if begging for attention. “Is this making your situation worse?”
“Yes. Please, sire, I must…” she whimpered. “Please help me.”
With his hand a hair’s breadth from her arse, he paused. He ground his teeth, counting time. When she wriggled closer, he moved his hand away. The tension between them had grown too large and unrelenting. This must be done or they could not move on.
“What will I get from you in return?” he demanded. “Think about your answer carefully.”
Silence filled the room, the tension between them sharp as a drawn dagger. He could almost hear her thoughts racing. Nonetheless, she kept still, and he noticed that she had her fingertips on the floor to balance herself.
Breathlessly, she replied. “I will try harder to get it right, next time.”
“That was the correct answer.” He moved his hand down to the cushion of her puss. “Here? Is this where you need a man?”
She kept still, her head hanging down, her hair trailing the floor. “Yes.”
Her breath was scarcely above a whisper, as if she did not trust him to relieve her of her burden. Finally, she had recognized who was in charge here. He smiled, and stroked his finger the length of her slit. A muffled moan issued from below.