Chapter 12

12

NUMBER SIX

He'd had an idea what number six was, he recalled. His body recalled it, too. He croaked, ‘You don't have to do anything. I didn't do this, any of it, in the expectation of some sort of?—'

‘I know you didn't,' she said swiftly. ‘But I want to.' A glimmer of a smile. ‘It is next on the list, after all.'

‘Oh well,' he said, trying to match her humour, ‘if it's next on the list…'

He moved away from her – he hoped he hadn't been crushing her with his weight, but if he had she hadn't seemed to mind – and she slid to her knees at his feet and looked up at him. Her gown was still undone and he was glad she didn't think to cover herself. She looked so beautiful, so infinitely desirable and so much more than that in his eyes. She put her hands on his knees and pushed them gently apart, then settled herself more comfortably between his thighs. He leaned back against the sofa cushions as she reached for him, stroking his visibly aroused member through the silk of his pantaloons. He shifted in his seat and throbbed under her caress. She'd feel that; the thought made him twitch again. She left her hand on him, she stroked him confidently with her thumb, Jesus, and as she did so she looked up, saying, ‘Now it is my turn to ask you what you like.'

‘I like this. In fact, I can't imagine you doing anything I wouldn't like,' he said honestly.

‘Very well.' Her fingers worked deftly to unbutton him, and as she pulled away the fabric he sprang free. He had no time to be embarrassed, for she wrapped one small fist confidently around his width and ran her thumb, her amazing, clever thumb, very gently along the slit. He leapt under her touch again and made an inarticulate noise in the back of his throat. If she felt any awkwardness in seeing him, in touching him like this for the first time, she did not show it. Kneeling at his feet, her breasts exposed, her hand holding him, she was smiling. He didn't care to imagine what manner of foolish expression he had on his face. And then he simply didn't care about anything at all, because she bent her head and put out her tongue, and with the very tip of it, she licked him where her thumb had caressed. A bolt of electricity shot through him and his whole body jerked in a convulsive movement. She laughed in what sounded like triumph and took him in her mouth; he sagged back against the cushions and gave himself up to her and whatever she chose to do with him.

She sucked on him for a little while, just on the head of him where he was most sensitive, and her fist still gripped him and pumped him. It was wonderful, it was the best thing he'd ever experienced in his life, but it wasn't going to last long at this rate. He couldn't stop her – he wouldn't dream of it, he'd have to be insane, but… She took her mouth off him, but not her hand, and looked up at him. She was still smiling. ‘I was going to ask you if you liked that, but I see you do.' He whimpered assent, and somehow he must have managed to convey more than he knew, for she said. ‘Too much, too fast?'

‘I don't want to… too quickly.'

Her fist relaxed, and now she held him in a much looser grip, her fingers spread wide. She bent her head to tongue him delicately as she had before, again he gasped at the jolt of pleasure she caused, and then she released him so that she could lick down his length, and up, and back down. He closed his eyes.

After a few moments he opened them – it pulled him back from experiencing the pure sensations, but he didn't want to miss the sight of her, in case this never happened again and he had to survive on the memory of it. This was about so much more than simple physical pleasure. Although… She was licking him, having established a rhythm that appeared to please them both, and her left hand lay on his thigh; somehow his pantaloons had been pulled down to bare the upper part of his legs. Leo was a hairy man, much of his body covered in a thick golden down. He'd been teased over it frequently by friends, which had made him self-conscious about it in the past, and he would have been tonight if he had thought to anticipate her seeing him thus, but he never would be again, not with her, because it was clear that she liked it. She was stroking his leg as she pleasured him, and her right hand – good God – was on her breast, playing with her engorged nipple. He remembered that all this was happening because it was what she wanted. Happening at her direction. It was all her. He could almost feel doors in his mind – that was how he pictured it, a thought strong enough to be a physical sensation – opening. It was a wonder, he realised later, that he didn't spend himself then in sweetest release. He was entirely in her power, and it was glorious. It was exactly what he had always wanted, always needed, and he had never known it till now.

She must have become aware that he was watching her – perhaps he'd moaned or cried out, he couldn't say – because she raised her head to say, ‘I'd like to suck on you now, if you are ready for that.'

‘Yes,' he whispered. ‘Yes, please do. But I don't… I don't want to spill in your mouth.'

‘Are you sure you don't?' Her wicked little tongue came out and slid along his slit again, and of course he gasped and jolted.

‘I do, but…'

‘You don't think I'd like it?' Again she tongued him. ‘You think it's too soon?' Again. ‘You'd like to do this again?' He whimpered. ‘Oh! You want to come somewhere else?'

‘All of those things,' he ground out.

Her hand was still on his thigh and she was still touching herself. He reached down with a shaking hand and caressed her lovely breast, the neglected one. Would she understand him? ‘If that's on the list…?' he said.