The Mistress Experience

Chapter Twenty-Seven

“I’m sorry,” Eden groaned, his face still so close to her cunt she could feel his breath. “I’m so sorry.”

If Tha?s had not been so thoroughly exhausted from feigning that orgasm, she might have laughed.

But that would hurt him, and he should be bloody proud of himself for what he’d just achieved. He’d taken to instruction like a right genius. By the end of the month he’d be as adept as men who’d been happily lapping away at cunnies for decades. For a moment she’d been tempted to go with it and let herself orgasm for real.

But that would not be clever of her. She’d already let herself enjoy Eden’s hugs. Enjoying him in bed would be taking it too far.

“You fool,” she told him, sitting up. “How could you be sorry after doing that to me? You should be crowing like one of your deranged roosters. Did you see what you just made me do?”

He stood up and gestured down at the wet front of his breeches. “Yes. I was so moved by it I spilled in my bloody smalls.”

“My poor boy,” she said. “I’ll take that as a compliment. My quim is such a dream you don’t even need to be inside of it to drain your balls.”

He looked so miserable you’d think he’d just dropped a hammer on his prick instead of shot a merry load with it.

“Oh, come now, Alastair,” she said. “Yesterday you couldn’t stay hard, and today you’re virile as a bull again. Besides, now that you’ve come once, we’ll see if you repeat the trick a little later.”

“You’re very kind to assuage my feelings,” he said. “But imagine if I did this in front of my wife on our wedding night. I’ll be forty in six days, Tha?s, and I perform like I’m fourteen.”

“Well, say you do. Say you’re incurable. I’d think your wife would be a virgin. So it won’t be a problem.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because she won’t know what’s what. She’ll be expecting you to guide her. For all she knows it’s normal for a man to want her so badly he fucks his own breeches.”

“It was the bed I rutted,” he said. “At least grant me that dignity.”

“Stop moping and clean up,” she said. “Then you can come and have a kiss. You deserve one, for being my prized pupil.”

Eden peeled off his clothing and was cleaning himself off roughly, like his own seed was poison.

“Don’t chafe it,” she said. “I have plans for that cock. Now, come back to bed.”

He lay down beside her, his body about as relaxed as a plank of oak and his face like a bust of an angry old man in a museum.

“Oy,” she said, turning over to face him and throwing a leg around his thigh. “You listening to me?”

“Yes,” he said darkly. “It’s difficult not to when you shout like that.”

She threw her arms around his chest before he could protest and snuggled her head under his chin. “Give us a hug.”

She could feel him hesitating, his muscles tense beneath her body.

“Please, love,” she coaxed, burrowing even closer. “Hold me.”

He put his arms around her stiffly, but after a few seconds his body softened. His hand came to her shoulder blade, and he stroked her back.

“This is nice,” she said.

He murmured an assent and held her tighter.

He really was good at giving hugs.

It was sad he’d spent so many years not giving any. Or getting any back. He was so sensitive to touch—even innocent touch like this—that it seemed like he was starved for it.

“You have perfect arms for loving on a girl, Alastair. If you feel off in bed or out of it, you can always return to this, you know. Plenty of girls would rather be held by a sweet, adoring husband than ravished by some master swordsman.”

She would know.

“That’s kind of you to say,” he said into her hair. “But I thought the lesson was over.”

“Oh no, sir, we’re only halfway through. We haven’t got to your bit yet.”

He kissed her shoulder. “What’s my bit?”

“I’m going to do to you what you did to me.”

His whole body went rigid again. He stopped rubbing her back.

She broke their embrace and propped herself up on her elbow to look at him. “What’s wrong? You don’t want me to suck your—”

He let out a ragged sigh. “I, erm... I don’t know if my heart can take it.”

“Your heart doesn’t have to,” she whispered to him like they had a secret. “I’m talking about your cock.”

He laughed and shook his head. “You truly delight in being a vulgar wench, don’t you?”

“Vulgar wench. Put it on my headstone. Now, are you ready for me to give you the best pleasure of your life?”

“Can we wait a little? I need to gather myself.”

She was not one to push. She wanted him to let himself go further tonight, but they could take their time.

“Of course,” she said. “What shall we do in the meantime?”

“Can I just hug you?”

The man wanted another hug. A hug. And God help her, she wanted it too.

“You can do whatever you like with me,” she said, lying back down beside him and curling up against his side.

“Tha?s,” he said in a serious tone.

“Mmm?”

“I hate it when you say that.”

“Say what? That you can do what you want?”

“Yes. It reminds me you’re only doing this because I’m making you.”

“Well, that’s rich, since I’m the one always making you do things.”

“Yes, but you’d not be here had I not bought your time. And I know it’s foolish, but I suppose I wish you were choosing this. Choosing me.”

He said this to her cheekbone, so she couldn’t see his face. But she could hear the brooding in his voice.

“Alastair?”

“Yes?”

“I can’t think of a man I’d rather be spending this month with than you. And I haven’t done a single thing I haven’t liked. Well, except waking at dawn. And making that damned cake. And sneezing my face off on your bloody stroll.”

He laughed wryly. “Yes. The month of your dreams, clearly.”

“Hear this. The things we’ve done in bed have all been to my liking. If I had my druthers, we’d be doing a lot more of them.”

“I know. I’ve been distracted by my work. And perhaps using it as an excuse not to practice my lessons, like a naughty student. But I’ll be better. There’s nothing more important than this in the next fortnight. I want to be perfect.”

This tripe again.

“Alastair, my dear,” she said, “perfect is a myth outside the sheets and certainly doesn’t exist between them. You need to know this, or you’ll always find yourself wanting.”

He was silent. He obviously didn’t believe her.

“I’m not just saying this to make you feel better,” she said. “I swear.”

“Well, there’s no harm in trying to achieve greatness. And I vow to make it—you—my priority.”

She was awfully glad to hear it.

“Good. Because I like playing with your cock far better than playing patience. Not to mention writing blasted letters about carpets.”

He squeezed her tighter. “I’m sorry you’ve had to play so much patience.”

“I’m sorry you’ve made yourself read so many papers about sheep.”

He laughed, then they were quiet.

For a few minutes, they lay in silence, their bodies entwined, listening to each other’s breath. It was so cozy Tha?s could fall asleep.

And then, she must have done so. Because cocks were crowing, and there was light peeking through the windows.

Eden’s body was still wrapped around hers, but he was awake.

And he was hard.

“You let me sleep away the night, you weasel,” she said with a yawn. “Should have woken me up when I dozed off.”

“It’s nice to watch you sleep. It’s the only time you’re peaceful.”

“You like me well enough when I’m awake, by the feel of it,” she said, waggling her arse against his erection.

“I think we’re far enough along here that that’s hard to deny.”

“Good. I have plans for you.”

He looked at her longingly. “God, I want you.”

She almost said, Lucky for you I’m a sure thing. But then she thought of what he’d said last night. How he worried she didn’t want to be here. And it felt so good, the way he was touching her. She did want to be here.

So she said, “I want you too.”

His mouth quirked up. “You’re only saying that to flatter me.”

“No. I’m saying it because it’s true.”

“What lesson did you have in mind?” he asked, grazing her nipples in his soft way. “I’d like to know what I’ll be failing at before we commence.”

“You can’t fail at this one,” she said. “Here, scoot down to the end of the bed.”

“Must I let go of you?”

“Believe me, you’ll be glad you have when I get done with you.”

She scampered away from him and stood. He scooted to the end of the bed and put his feet on the floor. His cock stood in the air.

She knelt between his legs.

“There are many ways to do this,” she said. “But some of them can hurt a lady’s neck. So when you teach your girl what I’m about to show you—”

“I suspect I will never teach anyone what you’re about to show me.”

“Once you see how good it feels, you’ll want to teach everyone to do it to you. You’ll be teaching Hattie, Sophie, your footman, everyone.”

Before he could reply, she took his cock in her fist and licked the head.

Usually she would lead up to this by touching him, playing with his balls and arse, kissing his stomach. But she didn’t want to give him cause to come too quickly, so she limited herself to toying with the tip of his prick with her tongue.

She glanced at him, and he was looking down at her with half-closed eyes. He seemed to like it well enough, so she took him fully in her mouth.

“Tha?s,” he said in a strangled voice, “you don’t have to do this. It looks... uncomfortable.”

She released him from her mouth. “You don’t like it?”

“It’s nice, but I feel guilty.”

“Well, don’t. I like doing it.” Or, at least, she liked doing it to him.

“Are you certain?”

“Close your eyes and let yourself enjoy it.”

“If you’re certain.”

He sat up straighter and adjusted his weight onto his haunches, like he was about to ride a horse.

“You can relax,” she said.

He nodded but did not relax at all. Were he not very, very hard she might have abandoned this altogether.

She returned her mouth to him, and he leaned back on his hands, his stomach muscles rippling. She could tell he was resisting the pleasure. Trying not to spill.

She stopped.

“Catch your breath,” she said. “We’re not in a rush.”

He was biting his lip, clenching his jaw, but he nodded. His eyes were still closed.

“When you feel you’re about to pop off too fast, you can take a moment. Breathe.”

He took a deep breath, then another.

“Better?” she asked.

He nodded. “Better.”

She took him in her mouth again and used her tongue to play with his bellend. She felt him seize and braced for him to spill, but he put his hand on her shoulder. “I need a moment,” he ground out.

She released him. His cock pulsed in her hand, angry for its fix, but he breathed through it.

Oh, she was so proud of him. He was learning his own body, sensing when pleasure was about to overwhelm him, steadying himself to keep control.

“Tell me when you’re ready,” she said.

“I’m ready,” he said breathlessly.

This time, when she put him in her mouth, she took him deeper.

“Oh God,” he uttered, shaking. She stopped, waited for him to calm, and did it again only when he nodded. She went slowly, slowly, until they found a stop–start rhythm they could both predict without having to speak.

His breath was ragged, coming out in gasps, and his hands had wandered to her hair, which he stroked when she paused. Not urging her to take him in, as other men did—plenty of men liked to fuck her face as though she weren’t there—but touching her tenderly, just for the sake of the way it felt.

She took him deep into the back of her throat—a trick that she was good at—and he began to moan in a way she knew he could not control. His pleasure now was more intense than she’d seen him feel before—not frantic but gut-deep.

Which meant he was ready for his climax. The well-earned kind that built up so long it curled your toes.

She swallowed, pulling sounds from him so filthy they made her own loins tingle. His body began to jerk.

“Tha?s,” he cried, “I’m—” and he began to come. His seed pulsed into her mouth, and she knew he would be horrified, poor man, but he was past the point of reason, lost to his release. She continued to suck him as he came and came and came, racked with spasms powerful as sobs.

Only when he stopped shaking did she gently release him from her mouth. He collapsed backward onto the bed, his breath coming in great gasps. She got off her knees and smiled—until she realized he was wiping away tears.

“Christ, Alastair. What is it?”

“I’m sorry. It’s only... it’s never felt... that is, until now I haven’t understood why people enjoy it quite so much.”

She lay down next to him and cupped his head to her bosom.

“God, I’m sorry,” he sniffled, half laughing at himself. “Look at me. I’ve gone mad. And here I utterly defiled you and haven’t even apologized for spending in your mouth—”

She kissed his eyes, left, then right. “Darling man, you don’t have to apologize. I’m so happy you fancied what we did.”

He laughed roughly. “Fancied. Tha?s, I loved it. It was unlike anything I’ve ever felt. Thank you. For understanding my ailment and giving me this gift.”

“For the ninetieth time, you don’t have an ailment. You have enthusiasm. And soon you’ll have the skills to give that to whatever girl you like.”

“You’re the girl I like,” he murmured.

Her heart clenched.

She knew he was sex-sated—that he meant right now, in bed—but the words made her throat ache all the same. She’d never liked any of her lovers quite so much. She wanted to give this man all that he needed, arm him with the confidence and skill to fuck the way she knew he could. Not perfectly, but joyfully and sensuously, with his whole mind and body.

She was excited about what they had ahead of them.

“You know, Eden,” she said.

“Alastair,” he corrected her.

“Alastair. I think you’re ready for your next lesson.”

“We don’t have time for another one,” he said. “Hattie will be here soon. We should dress.”

“I don’t mean right this instant. But methinks you’re ready to be inside me.”

He was quiet for a second, and she waited to hear what his objection was.

“I’m dying to feel that,” he said, in the most shocking words she’d ever heard from him. “Can we try this afternoon?”