Page 9 of His Brazen Tart
“Open,” he commanded, his eyes hard and glittering like glaciers.
Joan’s heart pounded and her blood raced as she slowly parted her lips, but did no more than that. If he wanted her to pleasure him, he was going to have to demand it.
Piers seemed happy to oblige her. “Show me your tongue.”
The salty taste of him invaded her senses as he angled his prick just so, one hand circling the base as he thrust. Her tongue rasped the underside of his erection, and a thick vein undulated with the pulse of his heartbeat. He kept his eyes locked with hers, showing no outward reaction to the stimuli. Joan flicked the tip of her tongue at his head as he pulled back, then dipped it into the slit. He grunted, and the briny taste of his seed coated her palette. He tightened his hold on her hair until her neck ached and rhythmically pulsed his hips so that his cock glided along her tongue. His chest heaved with harsh breaths and his eyes grew heavy-lidded as he stared down at her and the harshness of his expression melted away.
“Suck,” he rasped, pushing toward the back of her throat.
Joan gagged when his head pressed too deep, but recovered quick enough to close her lips around him. Piers groaned, cupping one of her breasts while he slowly rocked in and out of her mouth.
As a married woman she had learned to excel at the art of fellatio, though she’d never enjoyed performing it. Mostly, it had been an efficient way to avoid parting her legs for Gregory when she didn’t wish to tolerate him heaving and sweating atop her. With the lovers she had taken these past few years, Joan had avoided tasting anyone’s cock and had been grateful that most were too gentlemanly to press the issue.
But Joan had never known it could be likethis. By the time Piers had penetrated her lips, Joan was already aroused, yearning for physical contact of any kind. It stunned her to realize that she enjoyed her courtesan this way—standing over her bound and subjugated body, his face twisted into an expression of pure ecstasy as he fucked her mouth, his thumb and forefinger toying with her aching nipple. Now, instead of applying every trick she knew to bring him off quickly, she was content to draw out the inevitable moment of his crisis, keeping her eyes shut and enjoying the guttural sounds he made as he bucked and jerked inside her mouth.
She moaned when he gave her nipple a sharp twist—a spike of liquid pleasure-pain that made her clitoris pulse. She wanted his hands on her so badly she felt she might weep—longed for the relief of climax as her body hovered on the very edge of it. One flick of his wrist and she would come off like a firework.
Piers released her breast and then gripped her head between his hands, a string of muttered curses spilling forth seconds before his seed followed in hot spurts. Joan suckled and swallowed as his member pulsed and strained, before slowly losing its rigidity. Piers leaned into her and thrust through every second of his orgasm, his fingers so tight in her hair that Joan’s scalp tingled.
When he pulled away, Joan went limp, her breasts quivering with each deep gulp of precious air, her belly roiling, and the apex of her thighs slick and pulsing with want. Piers stared at her with unfocused eyes as he slowly, clumsily, tucked his cock away and righted his clothes.
Joan was dizzy and out of sorts, still grappling with what she had just experienced and yearning for her own satisfaction.
All her bravado and pride fled the instant he met her gaze, that stern expression of his back in place. He raised an eyebrow at her as if waiting for something, and Joan was helpless to deny him.
“Please,” she begged, thrusting her hips forward as much as her bonds would allow. “Please, Piers …”
His cruel mouth twisted in satisfaction as he gripped the back of her chair with one hand and aimed the fingers of the other hand between her legs. Joan cried out when two slender fingers filled her with a wet, sucking sound that might have been embarrassing if she wasn’t already so far gone. He thrust into her, hard and swift, his thumb finding her clit with breathtaking precision. Joan could hardly catch her breath, feeling as if she might faint as he drove her higher and higher with each battering push of his knuckles against the rim of her opening.
He gave his fingers a twist and found a spot within Joan that sent her spiraling. She came off, harder and faster than she ever had, her body jerking against the ties at her wrists and ankles. A shrill cry of ecstasy tore from her throat as she threw her head back and surrendered to the crashing waves of the most stunning climax she’d ever experienced.
Piers watchedJoan attack what was left of her dinner with the voracity of a rabid jackal, amusement making his lips twitch. The tension between them had slightly dissipated now they’d both had the satisfaction of release. After bringing her to climax, Piers had taken his time releasing Joan from her bonds, stashing them back inside his chest beneath her watchful eyes. He had ignored the questioning gaze she gave him at the collection of various clamps, plugs, and implements of punishment and pleasure organized neatly inside. Based upon her reaction to what he’d done to her, Piers knew that despite not being an innocent, his new keeper was untutored in the ways of pleasure at which he excelled. He had been right to go easy with her this first time, while still firmly dealing with the matter of her insolence.
Joan was quiet now, subdued, and utterly lovely with the glow left from climax kissing her cheeks. They would suit one another well, he realized as he observed her between slow sips of port. It didn’t usually matter if he was truly compatible with a client, for the job of a gentleman courtesan was to cater to the woman in his care. If there was one thing Piers knew, it was how to temper the edges of his compulsions as needed. Many of his previous keepers had expressed certain limits, which he could navigate and skirt without much thought.
However, Joan Durbin was a different creature altogether. Lack of experience in submission notwithstanding, she was adventurous and eager, and refreshingly free of reticence. Piers supposed it wouldn’t be long until she could handle a riding crop to her lush buttocks, or the clamp of steel cuffs about her wrists and ankles. Just imagining her in such scenarios stirred his lust again. Piers took a healthy swallow of his port and tamped the feeling down. The last thing he needed was for her to assume that he was besotted with her cunny.
He’d once been uninhibited in expressions of his need and affection, much to his detriment. When one placed the most vulnerable parts of himself into a woman’s hands, he put himself at risk of being destroyed. A woman had nearly succeeded in tearing him apart before, but Piers had pulled himself back together. Arrangements such as this one suited him just fine, so long as his clients understood that theirs was a business transaction. Their first intimacies had been initiated by him in order to prove a point, and besides, she’d practically begged him for it with her taunting. If Joan required anything more of him this evening, she would have to make the first overture. He would be damned if he sniffed after her like a dog chasing a bitch in heat.
With a satisfied sigh, Joan set her fork atop her empty plate with a clatter. She slouched in a most unladylike fashion just as the doors swung open to admit two footmen serving their dessert course. Piers had rang for them once he and Joan were both decent … though he supposed Joan’s current position could be called anything but. She had covered herself with the shawl again, but sprawled in her chair like a tactless tart in a bordello. He could see the restraint it took his servants not to look at her askance.
Once they were alone again, Piers pushed one of the platters toward Joan. “Try the stewed pears. They’re soaked in brandy. You’ll like them.”
Joan’s plump lips puckered into a moue as she reached past the pears for the custard. As she helped herself, Piers let out a snort of laughter.
“You truly cannot help yourself, can you?” he remarked, though there was no accusation in his words. It intrigued him that even outside the game of seductive cat-and-mouse, Joan was still as flagrantly obstinate as ever. “Do you ever do as you are told?”
She shrugged, causing the shawl to fall away. Piers bit the inside of his cheek at the glimpse of one rosy nipple, the rouge now smudged away. Some of it still stained his fingers.
“I most certainlycanhelp myself,” she said. “But why should I? I am not a girl, Piers. I am a woman of two and thirty, who has earned her independence after much … unpleasantness. I do as I please.”
“So I see,” he replied, helping himself to one of the brandy-soaked pears. He cut a sliver and speared it with his fork before offering it to Joan. She stared at the syrupy fruit, then narrowed her eyes at him. “But then … sometimes allowing someone else to lead can result in exciting new experiences.”
He kept the morsel near her lips until she relented and accepted the bite. Piers chuckled when her eyes lit with pleasure and her cheeks worked as she vigorously chewed.
“Good?” he asked while scooping a pear from the dish and sliding it onto her plate beside the custard.
“Yes,” Joan replied. “I have no problem allowing someone else to lead. But whether or not to follow is my choice entirely.”
