Page 14 of The Damsel
Dropping the waistcoat, he then pushed his braces off his shoulders, letting them hang from his breeches while he worked at the buttons of his shirt. A fluttering sensation began low in her groin as he revealed a wide swath of his chest, the smooth skin sprinkled with downy-looking hair the same light blond shade as the strands on his head.
Then, he jerked the garment free of his breeches and pulled it off over his head, causing the sensation between her legs to go from a flutter to a steady pulse.
He was well-formed, his chest wide, his slender torso displaying light lines of definition, and that enticing trail of hair leading down to his fall. Against the fabric, she made out the intimidating outline of his cock.
The bile began rising again, but as he bent to attack his boots, he did not see her close her eyes and take a few deep breaths and work to calm herself. It was just a prick. It was no different than any of her dildos, with the exception of being softer and warmer. She thought of the way she could make herself spend using her favorite ivory phallus, and decided this would be like that. She would use him and get what she needed.
By the time he straightened to open his fall, she had recovered, sitting up straight and watching as he unveiled the rest. She clenched her thighs together at the revelation of his cock—a long thick organ already half-hard, rising up from a swirling nest of dark blond curls. His bollocks hung heavy between two sculpted thighs, his calves sturdy and defined from riding.
Robert Stanley unclothed certainly proved a pleasant surprise.
He stared at her, raising his eyebrows as if to ask ‘what now?’
Right. She was supposed to be maintaining control of this encounter. Rising to her feet, she gestured to the bed, where two short lengths of rope lay coiled near the headboard.
“Lie down."
She moved away from the bed as he approached, turning to face him as she reached for the fastenings of her gown. She had been intentional in selecting her clothing, opting to wear a carriage dress that buttoned down the front so she would not need help taking it off.
Robert’s rapt gaze followed the motion of her fingers as she opened the garment to reveal that she wore nothing but a chemise underneath. She’d gone without stays or a petticoat, despite the cold weather, wanting to make this as easy on herself as possible. Fewer layers to remove meant less time undressing, and therefore a limited window of opportunity for her to back out.
The gown fell to the floor, and she kicked out of her slippers before reaching for the hem of her chemise. An audible intake of breath came from where Robert lay on the bed as she hiked the undergarment up over her hips, her belly, her breasts. A little smirk pulled at the corner of her mouth as she tossed the chemise aside to discover that he’d grown even harder, his prick now standing straight up from his groin, the tip glistening. His chest heaved as he stared at her, propped up on his elbows as he drank her in.
She might not be considered a diamond of the first water, but had known she had the necessary goods to make him want her. If the way his pupils widened to eat up the blue of his irises was any indication, her long, lithe form pleased him. She had to admit the way he looked at her heightened her need, causing her nipples to pebble as if he were touching them, and the slow throb took up an incessant cadence between her thighs.
After untying her garters and removing her stockings, she approached the bed. His posture was all wrong, his upper body still propped up by his bent arms. Instead of telling him to correct it, she’d simply show him what she wanted. Best he learned early on that she meant to be the one in charge.
His breath rushed out on a shocked huff when she put a hand to the center of the chest and pushed, flattening him to his back. The awe in his gaze amused her, but even more telling was the way his cock twitched in reaction.
So, Mr. Stanley enjoyed being pushed around, did he? She might have missed it if she had not been watching him like a hawk, alert for any sign that he meant to jump up and try to take control of her.
Emboldened by that knowledge, she braced a knee on the bed and reached for one of her ropes. He didn’t resist when she took hold of an arm, lifting it over his head and deftly tying him to the headboard. Millicent had taught her the proper knots for use in bondage, and she put that knowledge into practice now.
Climbing up over Robert, she straddled his torso and reached up for his other arm, lashing it to the wooden rails of the headboard as she had the other. Then, she took a moment to inspect her handiwork, making sure the bonds weren’t too tight, but still properly knotted to keep him from slipping free.
Then, her gaze fell on his face and she found him watching her, a bit of curiosity in his expression. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but clamped it shut, seemed to think better of it, then tried again.
“Your hair,” he murmured, his voice a near whisper.
She stiffened atop him, a thread of uncertainty winding through her as she reached up to touch her simple coiffure. The odd hue had been the bane of her existence her entire life, not blond enough or red enough to be called pretty, too strange not to draw notice.
“What about it?” she snapped.
He gave her a little smile, the motion blinding in its intensity, its beauty. He had probably disarmed countless women with that smile.
It made her want to slap it right off his face.
“Would you … take it down?” At her bewildered expression, he cleared his throat, then added, “Please.”
What game was this? Such an odd request, yet she supposed it couldn’t hurt. He’d gone along with her rules thus far, so she supposed she could give him this one thing.
“Fine,” she huffed, reaching up to begin plucking the pins from her hair, making it fall down her back in unsightly coils.
Despite her own distaste for the ridiculous hue God had cursed her with, Robert gazed up at her as if pleased, giving a little nod once she had finished and dropped the pins into a pile on the floor.
She leaned down and let the curtain of strands fall over one shoulder, the ends of it brushing his bare chest. His eyes grew heavy-lidded and he shifted beneath her.
“Happy?” she asked.
