Chapter 35 #2
He looked wholly absorbed in his task now, and with his attention finally drawn away from her face, she felt less self-conscious, and allowed her back to arch. “Do—do you think me equipped for such an endeavor?” she panted.
“Oh, you’re very well-equipped,” he said approvingly as he shifted his attention to her right breast. “Your secret prettiness extends further than your face, I find.” His tone turned teasing.
“You have a secret buxomness too. Lucky me.” His voice thickened and as he fondled her bosom with a shocking familiarity, Caroline felt that wetness between her legs again.
Oh my God, she thought. She wanted his mouth there. The shocking thought scattered her wits. What had he done to her? “Are you—are you going to kiss them?” she blurted. She was sure her face was scarlet by this point. “My breasts, I mean.”
“Do you want me to?” he asked, tipping his head to one side, as though such a thought had never occurred to him.
“It would seem a bit funny if you did not! After you—well, you kissed my behind,” she admitted with a small cough.
His lips curved into a smile. “Well, I should not wish to be neglectful,” he said, and shifted over her again, inserting a hard thigh between her own. Caroline whimpered as his mouth opened over her nipple and he did not so much kiss it as suck it into his mouth.
“Gervaise!” she gasped, her hands instinctively grabbing his hair and holding him fast as his tongue traced and darted by turn, soft and gentle one minute and firm and stabbing the next.
Her fingers shifted through his hair in a sort of caress as her thighs slid restlessly against his own.
He gave a rumble of deep approval which seemed to come from his chest. It excited her even more, and he lifted his head, his eyes dark and gleaming.
“Use it,” he said hoarsely.
“What?”
“My leg. Use it for relief. Rub your pussy on me here.” He pressed his thigh hard between her legs and Caroline groaned. Her what? Did he just call it…? “Do it, Caroline,” he urged, “do it now.”
Instead of moving her thighs as she had been, Caroline shifted her hips and pressed her hot core to his thigh. Gervaise gave a hiss of approval. “Yes, like that,” he said richly. “Exactly like that.” He lowered his head and sucked her other nipple into his mouth for the same lascivious treatment.
It leaped to Caroline’s mind that he had licked and sucked like this between her legs last time and she felt suddenly so, so neglected there that she was moved to protest in a series of whines that should have horribly embarrassed her, but by this point she was lost to all shame.
Strangely, the pressure of his thigh did seem to give her some relief but very soon it was not enough.
Unexpectedly, his hands closed over her hips, jolting her hard against him.
Caroline cried out. “Like this,” he urged thickly.
Oh yes, yes, that was good, that was better.
She hurried to comply, her hands grasping at his back for leverage.
Oh God, was she supposed to be this enthusiastic, she wondered, working her hips frantically.
It felt almost like she was trying to climb him.
“Stop!” he ordered. Caroline gave a groan of protest even as she halted rubbing herself against him. She wasn’t there yet. At that place. That wonderous place he had showed her last time. She felt so close and now it was receding into the distance again, she could almost cry with frustration.
“Show me,” he said gruffly against her ear.
What? Caroline blinked up at him. She wasn’t sure if she had said it out loud or not.
“I want to see how wet your pussy is,” he rasped.
“My what?” she asked in strangled tones, though she was pretty sure what he was referring to.
Instead of answering her, he moved back, and Caroline stared to see his engorged manhood spring free. It was very swollen and bobbed between them almost like it had a mind of its own. The bulbous head of it looked red and…yes, it seemed to glisten with a moisture. She stared.
Reaching between them, Gervaise gently trailed the back of his hand between her legs. “I mean here, precious one. Your pudenda. Your mount of Venus. Do you have a preferred name for it?”
“Er… No,” she admitted, her head still reeling from being called “precious one.” “Do you?”
“I don’t care what we call it so long as you let me see it,” he replied with a wry smile.
“Pudenda sounds like something out of a medical journal.” She winced. “And mount of Venus is somewhat florid…”
“What about pussy?” he asked conversationally.
She hesitated. “Why do you call it that?”
“Perhaps because it is soft and fluffy and I’d like to pet it,” he suggested.
That didn’t sound so bad. Perhaps that was the best term after all. She gave a nod. “Yes, that sounds acceptable. And what do you like yours called?”
He glanced down. “I’d like it if you called it my cock,” he said frankly.
She gulped. “Very well.”
“And now we have that decided, perhaps you’d like to show it to me. Your delectable pussy, I mean.”
She supposed she could not really object, not after she had been ogling his privates so openly.
Hesitantly, she widened her legs and his chest heaved.
“Beautiful,” he pronounced, then ran his thumb down his thigh before bringing it to his mouth.
Caroline watched aghast as his eyelids fluttered shut.
“There it is,” he said, almost reverently. “Ambrosia.”
Caroline’s mouth fell open as her cheeks grew hot. Was he saying she had spread her wetness down his thigh? She swallowed and Gervaise stared first at her throat and then her mouth. “Fuck,” he said distinctly, his chest heaving. “I should not—” He broke eye contact and drew in a ragged breath.
Should not what? she wondered. Should not put his head between her thighs? He had done it before though, with much enthusiasm. Her gaze returned to his tumescent shaft, or what was it he had bade her call it? His cock.
He wanted to ask her something, she realized, but could not quite bring himself to do it. What was it? Caroline stared at him with frustration. If he did not ask, how was she supposed to know? She did not know anything. She must be the most woefully inept mistress in history!
She should perhaps have asked Effie, but then Effie had said Jeb was not into perversions and she suspected Gervaise was.
Maybe she should have asked old Gracie. She suddenly remembered what the dreadful old woman had said about riding “ventre a terre” on her peer’s face.
She could not possibly suggest such a thing! Could she?