Read Online A Perfect Mistress by Barbara Mack - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Barbara Mack
Ads: Link
been performed on her unwilling body.
“I'm not scheduled to leave until the morning,” he said crisply. “I will go back to my own room for the night while you rest here, and I will arrange for someone to escort you back to your home tomorrow.” He turned to face her, his hands clasped behind his back. “I don’t blame you. Of course it would be difficult for a lovely woman such as yourself to have me touch you, but you indicated that you would not mind, and I never picked up on your hesitation.” He inclined his head. Sophie thought she could see hurt for a moment on his features when moonlight lit the room again, then the light faded and she was sure she was wrong when he spoke coldly again. “My fault entirely. I let my eagerness blind me perhaps. I had forgotten . . . but that is of no consequence.”
“No!” Sophie cried. “I’ll let you. Only come back to bed, please come back to bed. It’s just that I’m such a coward, you see, but I promise that I’ll let you do whatever you want. Only don’t send me away!”
Horror filled her voice. She didn’t want him to leave, she didn’t! That thought gave her the courage to scramble out of the high bed to stand in front of him, hands wringing together. She tilted her head back, trying to read his face but it was too dark in here and she could not tell what he was thinking.
“Please,” she said more calmly. “Only tell me what you want, because I don’t know. It’s just that . . . I’ve been worrying about it, you know. Please don’t send me away.”
She fell to her knees before him, and he made a sound. Sophie was afraid that he was going to send her out, right now, and she was desperate to salvage the situation. She clutched his legs with both hands, and he started.
“Don’t do that,” he said, uneasy. Her position reminded him of all the hopes he’d had for this night, and to his horror he felt an unwilling desire begin to rise in him. He felt disgust for his own perversity, for he desired nothing more than to take her at her word and take her back to bed. Then he remembered the tear that had seeped from between her tightly closed eyelids. He reached down to pull her hands off him and she clutched him tighter.
“Please,” she whispered, tears making her voice husky. “Let me. Let me just ...”
Jackson groaned when she raised one tentative hand to stroke him through the breeches. His arousal leapt to meet her seeking touch, and he moaned again, unwillingly. Sophie cupped him in her other hand, and sucked in a startled breath when she felt his skin tighten through the loose material. Suddenly sure of what to do, she pulled down his unfastened trousers and smiled up at him. She circled her hand over him and marveled at how warm and firm he was, how taut the flesh beneath her hand. She brushed her thumb over him, and he gasped.
“Sophie,” he breathed. “Don’t. Don’t.”
She paid him no attention, seemed not to hear him, in fact. Her hand continued to stroke him, and Jackson was suddenly a prisoner to her touch. Though he knew he could pull away from her easily, he stayed in her hold and grew harder still, until he felt that he would explode under her hand like some green boy.
It had been too long since someone had touched him this way. Too long. He threw his head back and gave himself up to the wonder of her fingers. And when she leaned forward and touched her lips to him, he felt his knees begin to buckle and his head swim. He reached out his hands again to push her away, but she fit her lips around him and drew him deep into the warm, soft recesses of her mouth, and he was lost. Jackson let his hands drop back to his sides, and his eyes closed.
Sophie felt him shudder, and her pulse leaped. Suddenly, this was not a chore, but a necessity. She was wet and swollen between her legs, and she thought of him touching her there and squirmed, pressing her
“I'm not scheduled to leave until the morning,” he said crisply. “I will go back to my own room for the night while you rest here, and I will arrange for someone to escort you back to your home tomorrow.” He turned to face her, his hands clasped behind his back. “I don’t blame you. Of course it would be difficult for a lovely woman such as yourself to have me touch you, but you indicated that you would not mind, and I never picked up on your hesitation.” He inclined his head. Sophie thought she could see hurt for a moment on his features when moonlight lit the room again, then the light faded and she was sure she was wrong when he spoke coldly again. “My fault entirely. I let my eagerness blind me perhaps. I had forgotten . . . but that is of no consequence.”
“No!” Sophie cried. “I’ll let you. Only come back to bed, please come back to bed. It’s just that I’m such a coward, you see, but I promise that I’ll let you do whatever you want. Only don’t send me away!”
Horror filled her voice. She didn’t want him to leave, she didn’t! That thought gave her the courage to scramble out of the high bed to stand in front of him, hands wringing together. She tilted her head back, trying to read his face but it was too dark in here and she could not tell what he was thinking.
“Please,” she said more calmly. “Only tell me what you want, because I don’t know. It’s just that . . . I’ve been worrying about it, you know. Please don’t send me away.”
She fell to her knees before him, and he made a sound. Sophie was afraid that he was going to send her out, right now, and she was desperate to salvage the situation. She clutched his legs with both hands, and he started.
“Don’t do that,” he said, uneasy. Her position reminded him of all the hopes he’d had for this night, and to his horror he felt an unwilling desire begin to rise in him. He felt disgust for his own perversity, for he desired nothing more than to take her at her word and take her back to bed. Then he remembered the tear that had seeped from between her tightly closed eyelids. He reached down to pull her hands off him and she clutched him tighter.
“Please,” she whispered, tears making her voice husky. “Let me. Let me just ...”
Jackson groaned when she raised one tentative hand to stroke him through the breeches. His arousal leapt to meet her seeking touch, and he moaned again, unwillingly. Sophie cupped him in her other hand, and sucked in a startled breath when she felt his skin tighten through the loose material. Suddenly sure of what to do, she pulled down his unfastened trousers and smiled up at him. She circled her hand over him and marveled at how warm and firm he was, how taut the flesh beneath her hand. She brushed her thumb over him, and he gasped.
“Sophie,” he breathed. “Don’t. Don’t.”
She paid him no attention, seemed not to hear him, in fact. Her hand continued to stroke him, and Jackson was suddenly a prisoner to her touch. Though he knew he could pull away from her easily, he stayed in her hold and grew harder still, until he felt that he would explode under her hand like some green boy.
It had been too long since someone had touched him this way. Too long. He threw his head back and gave himself up to the wonder of her fingers. And when she leaned forward and touched her lips to him, he felt his knees begin to buckle and his head swim. He reached out his hands again to push her away, but she fit her lips around him and drew him deep into the warm, soft recesses of her mouth, and he was lost. Jackson let his hands drop back to his sides, and his eyes closed.
Sophie felt him shudder, and her pulse leaped. Suddenly, this was not a chore, but a necessity. She was wet and swollen between her legs, and she thought of him touching her there and squirmed, pressing her
Similar Books
