My mouth fills, and I blush as I realize he’s pouring too much into me, but I swallow down as much as I can, a trickle of the wine running in a bloody trail down my cheek. Before it can drip down my jaw, he brings my face close and licks it from my cheek as he takes the glass away, and I feel a deep groan in his chest.
“Not a drop wasted, Maisie,” he chides me, and I can feel his grin as the strong drink hits me. Damn it, I’ve always been a lightweight. He tilts the glass again, and as he strokes my pussy, he makes me drink more from the glass, which I do greedily, my instincts taking over all my senses, making me hungry for more of both. His fingering is incessant. The thought of his touch has been in my mind all afternoon, and it isn’t long before I feel my stomach tightening, and as his fingering gets stronger and more regular on my swollen clit, he draws the glass away and up, letting me see the last drop of it on the tip of the glass.
My jaw hangs open, breathing quickly as I feel the inevitable roiling up in me, and damn it all, he can feel it in me, and he tilts the glass to let the last drop of wine fall onto my tongue just as I feel my orgasm roll through me, the bloody taste of the wine mixing with the ecstatic orgasm deliciously as I melt in his lap, my honey coating his fingers.
As the orgasm subsides, I feel a dark chuckle in his chest, and he withdraws his fingers from my pussy and brings them to my lips as I lean back in his chest. My eyes are closed, but I taste my honey on my tongue as he puts his fingers in my mouth. I reach up obediently to grasp his wrist, licking every bit of my come from his fingers.
When he finally lets his hand drop, I’m sitting on a hard cock as he strokes my hair. “Thank you, Master,” I whisper.
“Something you should know, little American girl from Conwy,” he says, his voice almost menacing, “is that I reward my obedient pets well.” He guides me off his lap, and I have trouble standing as he gets up, finished with his meal. “Follow me,” he instructs, and I’m in no condition to argue as he leads me out of the room and down a series of hallways and staircases.
Before long, he pushes an ornate door open, and I realize I’m in the master bedroom. My breath is stolen from me.
The atmosphere of the all-wood room is shockingly warm compared to the rest of the house. The wood is a rich, hearty brown, and there’s a crackling fireplace on the far end of the massive room, gray stone making a gorgeous hearth. The curtains are drawn over the colossal windows, but the centerpiece of the room is the king-sized four-poster bed in the middle, lavish purple sheets set enticingly.
The maids had said that Lord Alastair’s quarters were strictly off-limits. My heart is pounding harder than ever, but my pussy is quivering with desire as he leads me into the room to the foot of the bed. I expect him to tell me to strip again, but this time, he merely gestures to the bed.
“Shoes off. On your knees. Now.”
The urgency underlying that low growl spurs me on, and I fumble at the clasps of my heels before I put my knees on the bed, crawling on it on all fours. The sheets are unbelievably comfortable, the mattress the softest thing I’ve ever felt. I could stand on my knees here forever, I feel.
And the way Lord Alastair is glowering down at me, I fear that might be the case.
“You might have another drink from my glass,” he says, undoing the front of his pants as he approaches the bed, and on pure desire, my body starts to crawl toward him, looking up demurely into his dominating eyes. “But you must beg for it, darling. What I would give you is finer than any expensive wine.”
I let my lips part, my eyes shining in the firelight as I look up at him, utter need welling up in my gaze and my heart as his eyes hold me locked into place. My body arches, trying to entice him, but he smiles at me and makes me feel foolish. I know he has the upper hand here, no matter what silly games I try to play.
Suddenly, I feel terribly self-conscious, and my eyes fall to his bulge, where his hands are slowly starting to withdraw that massive shaft. Surely he sees me as just another servant, some country girl who’s a dime a dozen. But then his fingers touch my chin, raising my gaze back to his eyes as he looks down on me with a face filled with desire.
“I don’t give this fine wine to just anyone, darling,” he says, his voice a low husk, and as he speaks, he presses his hips forward, that massive crown brushing against my lips, and I feel my knees weaken with desire as my heart lifts at his praise.
“Thank you, Master,” I whisper, and I let my tongue out to pass over his cock.
It’s so warm, warmer than I remember it inside me earlier in the heat and confusion of the first time. I still can’t believe I could give my virginity to this godlike figure, this vampire in a stormy tower. And now his manhood is in my lips. The taste of his cock is incredible, and it isn’t long before I open my mouth wider to let my tongue roll down the bottom of it, feeling it stiffen more as I move it into my mouth.
Lord Alastair never lets my gaze leave his, my eyes turned up toward him as my mouth stretches for his colossal girth. How did I fit a
ll of this into my virgin pussy earlier?
Just as his long shaft felt utterly right in my pussy, the taste of him on my tongue is sweeter than any wine could hope to be. I’m not shy when I wrap my tongue around as much of his cock as I can find, my hand going up to his balls and fondling the heavy things, and Lord Alastair’s mouth hangs open as I do, his chest rising and falling as his cock stiffens and pulses in my mouth.
I may have found my strong suit.
His twitching is compelling as I start to grow more invasive with my tongue’s probing, bringing as much of the cock into my mouth as I can, feeling the crown touch the back of my mouth, but I’m able to control my reflexes as if I’d been doing this for ages. As I feel a hard pulse in his cock, I withdraw just enough to taste the precum as it beads from his head, and I moan into his cock at the taste.
Then he reaches around to my hair, giving me a gentle tug for me to withdraw, and I obey, albeit giving him a pouting face. He smiles, wagging a finger at me.
“Don’t get greedy, darling. I will taste of you, first.”
Before I can respond, he reaches down and picks me up by the hips, turning me around in his arms to carry me, one hand under my ass and the other at my shoulders. I can’t get over how tall and strong he is—I really am like a doll in his hands.
He brings me over to a massive plush rug that’s sitting in front of the fireplace, but the heat I feel from its glowing embers can’t compare to the heat between my needy pussy and his whole body. I feel his cock on my ass, and it’s still as stiff as ever, his rock-hard shaft grinding against me and coming to life.
He sets me down on my back, and I look up to him as if waiting for some new command, eager to please him, but he only glances my way before giving the faintest of smiles and reaching for my thighs.
I catch my breath, expecting him to penetrate me, but instead, he leans in with his face, wetting his lips as he looks at my exposed, wet pussy, glistening with honey in the firelight.
He’s so close to it I can feel his body heat, and I just want to push my pussy up into him, to open myself as wide as possible. “Please, Master,” I whine, my voice pleading, “do everything you want!”