CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
(Matthew)
The en suite in my bedroom was nowhere near as luxurious as the one in my apartment.
“The house was built in the thirties, and the bathrooms have barely been updated since then,” I warned Charlotte as she stripped off and neatly folded her clothes to go back in her suitcase. At home, she would have dropped them on the floor and dealt with them later, but here she was so uptight and worried about making a good impression.
I needed to get her unwound and relaxed as soon as possible, or she would snap by the end of dinner.
“I’m not judging you on bathroom quality,” she said, hurrying past the French doors with her arms over her chest.
I clucked my tongue. “I knew it. You aren’t after my money. You’re after my amazing dick.”
“Facts.” She went into the small, white hexagonal-tiled bathroom that had been the height of luxury nearly a hundred years ago and let out a huge sigh of relief. “Finally. Something normal.”
The shower was a claw-foot tub with a curtain around it on a frame suspended from the ceiling. The showerhead was modern, at least. I turned on the taps, with their original porcelain handles, and waited for the hot water to show up.
“You prefer this to my gorgeous walk-in with the rainfall head?” When I was younger, I’d thought I was practically growing up like a street urchin because of my outdated bathroom.
College had been a shock.
“This could be in anybody’s house. I mean, maybe not with the tiny chandelier.” She pointed to the offending decor overhead. “But I don’t feel like if I touch something, a guy with a red jacket and tall furry hat will yell at me.”
“That would never happen. You’re a princess.” I pulled her against my body and stroked her hair back from her forehead. I loved the way she looked at me, like when we were touching, she couldn’t see anything else. I returned the feeling a thousandfold.
“I’m your princess,” she said with a dreamy smile.
I pulled the curtain back.
I forgot about the shower chair.
“That’s embarrassing,” I said with no small amount of dismay.
Her eyes widened. “Wait. You once required the use of specialized medical equipment? I’m rethinking this entire relationship.”
I mock-laughed at her sarcasm and said, “I realize it might seem silly of me, but remember, I’ve spent most of my life as basically a sex god—”
“The contents of your childhood bedroom refute that assertion.”
“—and an orthopedic shower chair doesn’t scream eroticism.”
“Neither does the Lego collection you’ve painstakingly preserved since the mid-nineties,” she said with a wry twist of her mouth. “And, besides, an actual sex god would be able to make the orthopedic shower chair sexy.”
She had me there.
“I can make anything sexy. And how dare you doubt me?” I nodded toward the shower. “Get your ass in there and sit down.”
She caught her smiling bottom lip between her teeth and stepped in.
I unhooked the showerhead and chuckled at her little squeal of anticipatory delight. “It’s cute that you think you’ll enjoy this. Spread.”
She opened her legs wide, bracing her feet on the rolled edges of the tub. “We have done this before. I distinctly remember not hating it. Water pressure is a girl’s best friend.”
I was about to enjoy destroying that confidence. Holding her gaze, I unscrewed the attachment, releasing a powerful, unchecked torrent of water.
Then I brought it directly against her clit.
She let out a whoop of surprise. I shushed her. “Do you want someone to hear?”
She clamped her lips shut.
“Do you want them to know what a nasty girl you are?” I taunted her. She was close, her toes curling and flexing as her breathing sped into sharp, desperate whimpers. “You might be able to stay quiet through the first one. Maybe the second. But what about...seven?”
Her back arched and a high-pitched whine escaped through her nose. I didn’t move the hose away.
“You’ll scream, eventually. “Probably for mercy.” I grinned as she kicked and grasped the seat of the chair until I was sure she would snap it.
She shook her head and whispered, “No,” but the panic in her eyes contradicted her professed resolve.
The house was so big, the chances of anyone getting close enough to hear were slim. I wasn’t sure if she knew that and was playing along, but I trusted her to use her safe word if she became concerned.
I leaned in and nibbled her ear. “Does that get you off? Thinking my family might overhear you coming?”
The muscles in her thighs spasmed.
“I know it does,” I whispered. “I remember the rehearsal dinner. The storage room. You were so wet.”
“Ah!” she yelped, bucking her hips wildly.
“It’s more fun this way, isn’t it?” I cupped one of her breasts and circled her nipple with my thumb. I worked the hose around in a circle too. “It’s not like putting on a show at the resort. If someone caught you here, you would feel ashamed.
“Imagine it,” I went on, kissing her throat. “How guilty you would feel. How filthy and embarrassed.”
“Mm-m—” she stammered, but she couldn’t finish before the next orgasm hit her. She let out a long, defeated moan. “Mercy!”
I pulled the hose away and quickly hit the valve to divert the water back to the faucet. “Four?”
“Three,” she shot back, panting.
“I was so close.” I screwed the showerhead back on and hung it on its hook. “There. You can get all clean, first.”
“What about you?” The direction of her gaze indicated that she wasn’t talking about the order of showers.
“Oh, this?” I gave my aching shaft a few teasing strokes. She wanted me to fuck her as much as I wanted to fuck her, but I enjoyed being denied as much as she did. “We’ll take care of this later. Right now, let’s get cleaned up for dinner.”
So I could get her good and dirty later.
* * * *
I couldn’t stop giving Charlotte sidelong glances as we made our way downstairs. Her dress, which I’d first mistaken for black, was a deep green silk that hugged her body elegantly, little wrinkles of ruching draping from the smooth central column of the bodice to disguise the precise outline of her figure. The crew neckline and lack of sleeves gave her an air of effortless glamor, as did the pulled-up hairstyle she’d copied from a video tutorial. My fingers itched to play with one of the artfully loose tendrils that brushed her subtly made-up face.
“You’re sure this is all right?” she asked again, adjusting the shoulders of her gown. “I’m not too fancy?”
“I’m wearing a tuxedo,” I pointed out.
“Yeah, but without a tie,” she muttered. “Which is right there in the phrase ‘black tie,’ so how am I supposed to know which rules apply?”
“You look stunning,” I said firmly.
We made our way around the curve of the grand staircase, and voices drifted up to us from below. Small, childlike voices, but with the robotic, practiced high-society cadence learned from their parents.
My niece and nephew were eight and ten, respectively, but they spoke like contemporaries of Katharine Hepburn.
“Uncle Matthew,” Bennett addressed me, turning from his sister as if I had interrupted their conversation on the stock market. “So nice to see you again.”
“Yes, we barely see you aside from Christmas and Easter,” Briony added.
“And the regatta,” Bennett reminded her, adding, “We didn’t attend this year, because Mommy was at the spa.”
“Oh, I bet she was.” I caught a sidelong glance at Charlotte’s face, trying to gauge her reaction.
My sister’s children had all the warmth of an Edward Gorey drawing and the physical appearance to match. It didn’t help that their nanny dressed them like escapees from a Victorian asylum for criminal children.
Bennett’s brown hair was slicked down from a side part that ended with Edgar Allan Poe–style curls at his ears, and he wore short pants with his dinner jacket. Briony’s long blonde hair was pulled back from her face with combs, and her velvet dress sported wide triangular flaps of lace at the collar.
They looked exactly like what I would expect to see if I walked into an abandoned, burned- down schoolhouse.
“Bennett. Briony.” I nodded to them each in turn.
“Aren’t you going to introduce us to your guest?” Briony asked in her haunting little voice.
“This is my girlfriend, Charlotte.” I put my hand at the small of Charlotte’s back and nudged her to step forward. The children each offered her their hands to shake.
“Delighted to meet you,” Bennett said.
“Likewise,” Charlotte managed, shooting me an uncertain glance.
“Mother did mention that you’d called off your engagement.” Briony scrutinized me with an unreadable, unnerving expression. “I must admit, I was a bit relieved. Wedding season last year was ghastly.”
“Well, we’ll try not to inconvenience your social calendar too much when we plan ours,” I replied, and ignored the sharp nudge Charlotte gave me.
Unfortunately, my sister had entered in time to overhear the conversation. She swooped in to gather her children away from us. “My darlings, I thought I told you to come straight to the dining room.”
“Service hasn’t finished laying everything out,” Bennett said with the tone of someone who would definitely be firing his domestic staff for similar infractions in the future.
My sister, resplendent in an overly beaded bolero jacket and satin gown in the same beige shade beloved by mothers of the brides from coast to coast, gave Charlotte a begrudgingly admiring once-over. “You look nice, Charlotte.”
I waited for my sister’s face to wither like she’d looked into the Ark of the Covenant from giving the compliment. Charlotte thanked her quietly.
“It’s Saint Laurent, isn’t it?” Briony said admiringly. “I have an eye for these things.”
“It is,” Charlotte managed to respond. Then, looping her arm through my elbow, she said, “Excuse us, won’t you? Matthew promised to show me the library before dinner.”
“Of course,” my sister responded, and I took Charlotte’s cue as the desperate plea that it was.
“That was a ballsy move,” I told her when I’d steered her out of earshot. “What if there hadn’t been a library?”
“I’ve played Clue. I know there’s a library.” She dropped her volume even lower. “No offense, but what is up with those kids? Are they ghosts?”
“None taken, and I am in full agreement. I know uncles are supposed to be fun and playful and live to spend time with their nieces and nephews, but they terrify me.” And frankly, it was refreshing to be with someone who shared my same feeling about their creepiness. All of my previous partners had insisted the two were “precocious” or “adorable in their own way.”
The library—which did exist—was only a short walk from the dining room. I slid the door open, and we stepped into the darkness.
“I’ll get the light.” I moved toward the lamp on the table while she closed the door behind us. The stained glass shade of the reading light directed the bulb’s effort downward and cast dim, jewel-toned rays on the shelves closest to us.
“See?” she said with a smirk as she walked toward me. “Just like in Clue.”
“I’ll get the overheads,” I said.
She caught my hands and stopped me. “I didn’t bring you in here to read.”
“Ah.” I let her push me into the leather armchair beside the table. “You know, dinner is—”
“Not ready yet. Service hasn’t even been laid.” She affected a stiff lower jaw for emphasis, then grinned naughtily. “Why shouldn’t you get laid? Or at least a blowie?”
She unzipped my fly.
“Am I supposed to fight you off?” I didn’t have any intention of doing so. It had seemed like a good idea to deny myself after tormenting her in the shower, but that had been before I saw her in that dress.
A dress that had a dinner engagement. “My sister already saw your outfit. You can’t change it now. Better not spill.”
“I’ll have to swallow every drop.” Her hand closed around my hardening dick. “And you’ll have to be sure to keep it deep in my throat until you’re totally empty.”
She licked her lips and held them poised a breath from my tip. My cock surged toward her mouth, and she moved back.
“Greedy. Impatient.” She settled back more comfortably on her knees and stroked me idly. “What am I going to do with my dragon?”
“Dragons are supposed to be greedy. And who would tell them to not be impatient, if they wanted to be?” I rocked my hips. “It’s princesses who are supposed to be patient and selfless. And right now, my princess needs to selflessly suck me off so we can go to dinner.”
She smirked, twisting her cupped palm over the head of my dick. “Is my dragon begging?”
I reached down and carefully, so as not to mess up her hair, laid a hand on the back of her head. I held her gaze as I exerted pressure and said, “Mercy.”
She opened her mouth obediently and took me in, all the way down. The time for teasing was over, and there hadn’t been time for it, anyway. She focused her talents entirely on providing me relief.
And it wasn’t selfless on her part, at all. My depraved princess had chosen this location, in my mother’s house, with no lock on the door, to put herself in a position that couldn’t be plausibly explained away if we were caught.
She didn’t know, like I knew, that no one had read a book in this house since I’d moved out. My father’s prized library existed solely for dusting, and we were in no danger of discovery. But I didn’t spoil it for her. She was getting as big a thrill out of this as I was.
Maybe not as big, I revised as her tongue wound around me like a pole dancer. It would get her worked up, though. I’d have to make sure I rewarded her efforts in my room later.
“You know, the thought of you sitting through dinner with sopping wet panties is going to be enough to get me hard all over again. I’m going to have to pin you down in that big bed when we get back upstairs.”
She moaned in response, and a long drop of drool rolled down the side of my shaft.
“Ah-ah, princess. Not too sloppy,” I warned her, though I was loath to. Nothing felt quite as good as a messy blowjob. “You can’t smudge your makeup.”
She poked her tongue out and ran it down to catch the drop that had escaped. I took a long breath and tilted my head back, resting against the top of the chair with my eyes closed. She added her hands, encircling my girth completely, and I relaxed into her sucking, stroking rhythm.
She’d learned my body and my responses so quickly, she knew exactly what to do to get me off as efficiently as possible. Soon, I gripped the back of the chair and used it as leverage to fuck her face.
With my nerve endings crackling like live wires and my pelvis tightening to an almost excruciating ache, I warned her, “Here it comes, princess.”
The hand I used to hold her head reflexively tightened, but I’d entered the moment where I no longer cared. Where I couldn’t stop the inevitable nor my body’s responses in the throes of it. Even if someone were to walk in on us, it was far too late. They would see me coming helplessly down Charlotte’s throat.
Imagining the humiliation of such a moment was what sent me over, bucking against Charlotte’s stacked hands, the only thing keeping me from choking her on my cock and making a huge mess. Cold lightning arced through me, and I shouted a sharp, “Ah!” of pleasure as I filled my princess’s hot, eager mouth with spurt after spurt of my cum.
With a muffled purr of appreciation, she lapped at my tip and gulped. She lifted up, clearly believing I was finished.
“Not yet, princess,” I instructed through gritted teeth, still pumping what felt like a record load onto the back of her tongue. Finally, when the strong pulses abated, I took my hand away from her hair. She slowly raised her head, cleaning every last trace as she went, until I squirmed with oversensitivity. With a satisfied smile, she swallowed one last time and sat back on her heels.
“Wow. You’ve needed that all day, haven’t you?” She reached up to the back of her head. “Is my hair—”
She was interrupted by the echo of the dinner gong. Her eyes widened. I took advantage of the moment to tuck myself away; I was a professional at keeping cum off my trousers at fancy occasions.
“Was that—”
“Us being called to dinner?” I got to my feet and, leaning heavily on my cane to regain my balance, offered her my arm. “It was. And your hair looks lovely. Your lipstick, though, I need to check.”
She gave a little “eep!” of surprise as I kissed her.
“Do you know what I’ll never tire of, princess?” I asked, catching her bottom lip between my teeth for a quick nibble. “The taste of my cum on your pretty mouth.”
There. She could sit with those words—and her wet panties—through all nine courses.