“If there is something you want, ask for it,” he commanded.
Rachel gestured between her legs. “Here. Would you please? With the cloth?”
“I’m afraid I don’t understand,” he lied ruthlessly. “I see your belly. Your legs. Your pretty little cunt, and your swollen clitoris. You may tell me what you want to be washed.”
Her eyes widened, then went heavy-lidded. “You…you don’t mind me using naughty words?”
Mind? God no. He couldn’t think of anything more arousing than hearing explicit talk from Rachel’s sweet, pouty lips. Apart from having those sweet, pouty lips wrapped around his cock and sucking him until he came in her mouth, of course.
Arran began to sponge her belly, circling lower and lower until he caressed the soft skin just above her bush. “I’ve no time for coyness in the bedchamber. When I ask my mistress of her needs, she must tell me plainly.”
“Very well…My clitoris and my cunt,” Rachel whispered, and then louder, “Please, sir, will you touch my cunt? I cannot bear the ache.”
“Yes,” he replied, nodding in approval.
Curling one arm around her shoulder blades to support her, he captured her mouth with his, owning and plundering it while he stroked the warm washcloth between her thighs, parting the hair and rubbing the textured cloth against her clitoris. Rachel clung to him, one hand around his neck and the other gripping his jacket lapel, and when he dropped the cloth onto the wooden floor and eased two fingers inside her soaked sheath, she frantically ground her clitoris against the heel of his hand. Seconds later she went rigid and came with a muffled cry, her snug inner walls pulsing and clenching around his fingers.
“Oh God,” she gasped as she collapsed against him, still shaking with the force of her climax.
Arran smiled in intense satisfaction at the awed wonder in her voice. That was only the beginning. “There now, kitten. Let’s get you dry and put to bed, and I’ll join you in just a moment.”
After drying Rachel with a towel, he scooped her up in his arms and carried her over to the thankfully reasonable-sized bed. Again, he was impressed, the straw mattress felt firm, the decorative wooden headboard was polished, the sheets clean and the quilt thick, and he tucked her in so she would stay warm while he bathed himself. She remained quiet and obedient now, and in truth, he welcomed the temporary silence. He needed a moment to regain composure as his head whirled, and his cock verged on exploding and ruining his trousers.
He’d only bathed Rachel and combed her hair, yet it felt like much more. So natural, like he’d tended to her a hundred times. And the way she’d followed his instructions and come hard for him, drenching his fingers in hot, fragrant juices...
Bloody hell.
Perhaps one night with his ‘wife’ might not be enough.
Chapter 3
So. That was an orgasm.
Still struggling to regather her wits, her body throbbing in remembered ecstasy, Rachel lay against the pillows in a daze and watched Arran remove his jacket and cravat. Other maids at the school had giggled and whispered of pleasure, of stolen kisses and caresses with stable hands or footmen, or even wickeder tales of lust from their day off. But none of them had ever spoken of the sensuality in being cared for by a man.
No one had ever treated her so tenderly.
He’d been thorough in his bathing, but when he’d massaged her head, sore from the many pins needed to tame her unruly mop of curls, she’d almost wept. Then the combing…sweet heaven. The slight prickle and tug on her scalp had sent tingles between her legs, making her even wetter. If being teased with a washcloth, having her hair combed, and gentle fingers inside her resulted in such an astonishing climax, what might it be like with his engorged cock thrusting hard? Or after he’d disciplined her for misbehaving? Back at the school, a few inexpert swats with a wooden spoon had left her aching with need. But his big palm, applied with pressure and mastery…
The sound of water splashing distracted her from her wayward thoughts, and Rachel sucked in a shaky breath at the sight of Arran fully naked and bathing himself in front of the fire. In stark contrast to her softness, everything about him was sculpted and hard. Broad shoulders, powerful arms, and massive chest dusted with black hair. A narrow waist and flat abdomen, the muscled thighs of a dedicated rider. And his cock…
She gulped. Even partially erect, it stuck out thick and proud from a nest of coarse black hair at his groin. Surely twice as large as her clerk, and that had hurt. But she didn’t have long to ponder, as Arran dried himself then walked back to the bed and climbed in.
“Is something wrong, Rachel?”
Surprised at how easily he read her, she looked at him lying propped up on one elbow. A denial sat on the tip of her tongue, but at the last moment she sighed and traced a finger along the embroidered quilt. “I’m nervous. Because you are so much larger than my previous lover, and that was a while ago.”
“How long?”
Her lips tightened. “A while.”
“Answer me properly. How long?”
The question both annoyed and aroused her. Just as well this would be a one-night affair, because to a stern, implacable master like Arran she would no doubt confess all her secrets, leaving her entirely too vulnerable. Even now, a part of her yearned to please him in every way. “A year.”
“Young love?”
“I’m twenty,” she replied indignantly.
“Positively ancient.”
Forgetting herself completely, Rachel smacked him on the shoulder, only to find herself flat on her back with her arms above her head, both wrists restrained in one of his hands. Oh. Was she about to be disciplined? Anticipation coursed through her entire body, tautening her nipples and forcing her to press her thighs together against a fierce throbbing. “Well, sir? Are you going to take me, or just toy with me?”
A slow
