Arranged(17)

I couldn’t refuse, but moreover, I didn’t want to. Closing my eyes, I pressed my mouth to his. I thought it would be brief and neat. Quick and clean.

It was not. It was pure filth.

His mouth on mine was not fit for public. At first it was just that brief soft press, our lips rubbing together, back and forth, back and forth. The briefest teasing contact. It didn’t matter. It was enough. It was too much. I took in a deep shuddering breath for a beat.

I wasn’t even sure how a kiss could be so indecent when he was barely touching me.

His delectable lips locked on mine and it was an R rated attack on my senses. R made slow progress into X as his soft lips slid over mine, his tongue licking deeply into my mouth, drawing my tongue out to play with his.

I was inexperienced at kissing, to say the least, and I’d certainly never expected a kiss like that. I had no defense against it. I went a little limp against him, breathing him in, letting his presence overwhelm me.

He tasted like alcohol, but sweeter, the flavor of him mixed with hard liquor. He stroked his tongue against mine in a rhythm that brought to mind another, less pleasant act.

He hooked one of my legs over his knee beneath the table. It was hidden under the long white tablecloth, but I was still aware of the fact that this brought my already short skirt up high on my thighs, exposing my panties.

He pulled away slightly.

I watched his face, trying to read his intent.

His palm was on my thigh, rubbing and moving up at an alarming rate.





CHAPTER





EIGHT





“I’m curious,” he said, his hand never stopping its distracting movement. “Tell me something. I was told that you were trained,” he stressed the word, “for the marriage bed. What does that even mean?”

“How much would you like to know?”

He mulled it over, his eyes enigmatic, his big hand rubbing and kneading at my inner thigh. “Give me all of it.”

“I know how to get myself ready for you. Or how to . . . compensate in the event that I want something . . . like that . . . and you don’t feel like tending to me.” The words were a jumbled mess and I could barely look at him after I said them.

He stared. “Are you saying that they taught you how to masturbate?”

I couldn’t look at him, and my whole body felt flushed with embarrassment and something else. Something warm and shameful. “Among other things, yes. With my own hands, and with toys, though I couldn’t put anything but my own fingers inside of myself. Of course I had to keep the proof intact until our wedding night.”

“Of course,” he agreed with utter sarcasm. “So what did you learn? About your own pleasure. Where do you like to be touched?”

“The usual places.”

His brows rose. “Be more specific, please.”

I wanted to sink into the floor, but I didn’t hesitate. This was a test, and I had studied hard for it. “My breasts, nipples, and clit, of course. My inner thigh—”

“Like where I’m rubbing right now?” he interrupted, squeezing my leg.

I sucked in a sharp breath. “Yes.”

“Keep going. Where else?”

I had to clear my throat before I found my voice again. “That spot you’re hitting, all the way up to my groin. And my back is particularly sensitive. My nape, shoulders, and the spot where my shoulders meet my neck.”

“You touched your own back?” There was a bite to the question.

“A masseuse was brought in to find all of the spots I couldn’t easily reach.”

“Who was it?” he asked.

“Excuse me?”

“The masseuse. I’d like a name.”

Something in his voice caused the strangest bit of dread to creep up my spine, but I answered promptly. “Thomas. I don’t know his surname.”

“I see,” he said hotly.

“What do you see?” I asked.

“They had another man put his hands on you to get you ready for me. I don’t see how that would help you pleasure yourself, and I certainly never agreed to it.” Temper, temper. “But continue. What else do you think is expected of you?”

“When you come to the—our bed, I’ll lie on my back, put my heels on the mattress, and spread my legs for you. I’ll offer to suck you off. I was also instructed that, whether it hurts or feels good, I’m to endeavor to keep a pleasant expression on my face. If prompted, I’ll talk while you’re doing it. I was told that you like dirty talk when you’re inside a woman.”

“My God. I know I’ve said it before, but I’ll repeat, they didn’t miss a trick, did they?” His question was incredulous and crisp with a bitter edge.

I got the distinct impression that he found the notion as distasteful as I did.

“They were very thorough,” I reassured him. I had no doubts that if they thought I’d somehow disparaged their efforts, they’d make me pay for it.

“I wanted them to make sure you understood what to expect from me, but I didn’t realize they’d be quite so . . . zealous about it. Well, at least you won’t harbor any illusions about this arrangement.”

“I will not,” I said succinctly.

He was silent for a time, then, “You said you’d offer to suck me off. Did they teach you how to do that too?”