miserably. I arched a brow at her, waiting for her to confess all of her crimes.
“I touched myself.”
Oh, dear heavens. Did she just say she touched herself? Her face flushed scarlet. I coughed into my hand, trying to find enough voice to speak. It wouldn’t be good for me to croak out my next words. I had to be a professional. A headmaster. And actually think with the head upon my shoulders. “Touched yourself?” I repeated.
She gulped. I watched her throat move and all I could think about was pressing my lips to it to calm her. She didn’t look at me. She looked everywhere but my face.
“Where?” My voice sounded raspy to my own ears. What must it sound like to hers?
“Down there,” she whispered as she dropped her face into her hands. She breathed quietly for a moment, making no other noises. Then she finally looked up through her parted fingers, not even taking her hands down. Her blue eyes blinked at me and I’d never seen anything so pretty. So alluring. So innocent of any wrongdoing. A heavy groan escaped my throat and I coughed to hide it. My cock pulsed in my trousers and I reached down to adjust it. Her eyes followed my hand, but I was beyond caring. My stones ached at the very thought of this little slip of a girl touching herself. Of those pretty little fingers sliding through her wetness to stroke her clit. Of those rose-colored lips letting out tiny cries as she gave herself pleasure.
“Take your hands down, Miss Winters.”
She did, but she still didn’t look at me.
“Look at me.” I ordered. She complied, and drew her bottom lip between her teeth, worrying it. I wanted to draw her lower lip between my own and sooth it. “Where did you learn such a thing?” I asked, instead. Her mouth opened and then closed. Like she wanted to speak, but was afraid. “I need to know, Miss Winters.”
“From you,” she cried out, as she jumped to her feet. “I learned it from you.” She put her hands on her slim little hips and glared at me. Her bosom heaved with each heavy breath.
“I dare say I taught you no such thing, young lady.” This time, heat crept up my own face. I must be red as a tomato. I’d lusted for the girl for all of five minutes. Well, perhaps I’d lusted more, but this time, it had only been for five minutes.
She circled around my desk to stand in front of me. The lilac scent of her assaulted my nose before she even came close. “I saw you,” she accused. Her eyes roamed down my body and settled in my lap. Her brow arched as she smiled. It was the smile of an innocent. And it set my blood to boiling. My trousers were tented by my hardened cock. I adjusted to cover it with my arm. But it was too big to be hidden. What the hell? I sighed heavily and gave up. She smiled, her eyes dragging across my cock again. She may as well have reached out and touched it, it hit me that hard. I wiped a trickle of sweat from my temple.
I couldn’t imagine what on earth she was referring to. “You saw me?” I cleared my throat. “What was I doing when you saw me?”
“You were in the back stairwell. Miss Houghton had sent me to gather some supplies, and I heard the noises.”
“Noises?”
“Grunting, mostly. And she was crying out.”
She licked her lips again. “She?”
“One of the maids.” She looked me right in the eye. “You were shagging one of the maids in the back stairwell.” She fluttered her hands nervously. “I watched.”
“You watched?”
“I couldn’t stop watching. I just couldn’t.”
I sat back. My cock was purely visible now, but I didn’t care. She’d seen me shag one of the maids, for heaven’s sake. She’d probably seen all of my cock already. Seeing it behind my trousers couldn’t make the situation any worse. And there was nothing I could do to make it go away. Not with the scent of her so close. Not with the heat of her so close. “You watched me shag the maid. And that led to you touching yourself.”
“Well, yes.” She began to pace. Her voice shook, but she continued as though she spoke of the weather. “She was crying out. And she really wanted to finish, she said. But she couldn’t. So, you touched her. You touched her and began to rub her. And she found great pleasure at it, although I didn’t know how at the time.” She took a deep breath. “So, I tried it.”
“And?” My hand lowered of its own accord to rasp against my cock head. She smiled and her cheeks turned even rosier.
“And I liked it.”
“And Miss Houghton caught you at it?”
She rolled her eyes. “No. That nasty little new girl caught me. Evidently, I made a noise as I… you know.” My heart thumped heavily at the very thought of watching this girl find pleasure.
“You know?” I choked out.
“As I… finished. I really don’t know what it’s called. But it’s when I quiver and it sort of feels like some kind of ecstasy washes over me.” She stopped pacing to look at me. “She told on me.” I would have given my last shilling to see the look on Mrs. Haughton’s face when she repeated the tale.
“And you say you learned this behavior from me?” I asked. “When I stroked the maid?” I vaguely remembered the encounter.
“Yes. So, you see, my lord, it’s quite your fault that I am in trouble.”
I held up a hand to stop her speech. I needed a moment to compose myself. She bit down on that bottom lip again. Good lord, she would force me to kiss her before our talk was done.
“Are you still an innocent, Miss Winters?” I asked softly. I watched as goose bumps settled upon her arms.
“Well, in the general sense of the term,” she prevaricated.
If she’d hit me over the head with an anvil, I wouldn’t have been more surprised.
“I’ve never been with a man, but my maidenhead is gone. I’m fairly certain.” She lifted her hand to her mouth and began to chew on her fingernail. She said it as though we discussed the weather. Like we weren’t talking about her innocence or a man breaching the core of her. I pulled my handkerchief from my pocket to mop my brow.
“And how, pray tell, did that happen if you have never been with a man.”
“I think I did it myself,” she said.
“With?” I imagined her fingers sinking into her depths, making a squelching noise as she pressed them inside herself. Dear God.
“Does it matter?”
I shook my head. I’d never been so taken aback. I wanted this little slip of a girl more than I wanted my next breath. I had to ask. This conversation was the thing of fantasies. I’d use it later when I shagged my wife. “How often do you pleasure yourself?”
She looked me right in the eye. “As often as I can?”
I grinned like a school boy. I was certain every tooth in my head was showing.
“And do you often find pleasure?”
“Not often. I’m afraid I’m not very good at it.”
Ouch. That hurt. The idea of this girl reaching for pleasure and not finding it pained me. It made me ache, both in my cock and my heart.
“Is something wrong?” she asked.
“If you were a bit older,” I began, without even thinking. I wished I could take the words back immediately. My hand dropped down to adjust my cock. Her eyes followed my move and I let them. I didn’t stop. I would go to hell for this. I was certain of it.
“May I see it?” she asked suddenly.
See what? Certainly not my cock?
“Your…” She wasn’t certain what to call it? But she pointed to my lap.
“My cock?” I choked out.
“Is that what it’s called?” She smiled softly.
Cock. Among other things. Right now, it called to be inside her. I had to get her out of my study. But I simply nodded slowly. “I don’t know what to do with you,” I admitted.
