Bound by Bliss (Bound and Determined #2)(26)

Bliss found herself swallowing as he kneaded the soft skin, his fingers leaving pink marks that faded almost as quickly as they arrived. She pressed her knees together as she imagined the sensation of having somebody squeeze her like that, look at her like that. The heat of Duldon behind her was almost too much. She stared straight ahead, concentrated. There could be no mistaking where Mr. Binkshaw’s eyes were focused. Nobody had ever seen Bliss there since Nurse changed her nappies. What would it feel like to have a man touch her there, stroke her there? What did it look like? What did she look like? Bliss realized she had only the faintest idea and found herself wishing that Mrs. Binkshaw would shift so that she could get a better look. Did she glisten like that? Did her flesh look as if it begged to be touched, examined? Would Duldon look between her legs with such desire, such fascination?



Had she really just thought that?

An image came to her mind of Duldon’s face enrapt, of him staring down at shadowed flesh, pale in the moonlight. She could see him standing there, his buttocks firm and hollowed on the side, see the strain as he surged forward, see…

She closed her eyes against the image and then opened them again, staring at the Binkshaws. Such thoughts were forbidden. Even here, even when she was exploring her own desires, she refused let her mind wander there.

Bliss knew color was rising in her face and pressed it more determinedly against the peephole, her eyes fixed on Mr. Binkshaw’s fingers as they glided and moved. Mrs. Binkshaw was shifting and squirming, her face tight, her mouth slightly open. Bliss wished that she could hear what was happening. Were those moans or sighs escaping the parted lips? She knew her own lips had parted, her body alight with imagined sensation—and real sensation as well; there was no denying what effect watching was having on her.

She felt breathless and achy and needy, her body longing for…Her own heart sped and beat harder, her breaths increasing in intensity. When Mr. Binkshaw parted the cheeks of his wife’s behind and his thumbs moved into the deep crevasse between, Bliss found herself squirming and shifting. The back of her legs bumped into Duldon and she froze. She could feel the warmth and strength of his body surrounding her, the hardness and thrust of his thighs. She should move away, but found herself powerless to do so. The desire to press back into him was almost overwhelming, dizzying. Biting down hard on her lower lip, she tried to control the desires that began to overwhelm her.



“You are beginning to pant a little. Do you wish to tell me what is happening? Is he f*cking her?” Duldon whispered the words and particularly that word against her ear.

Had anyone ever used such language with her before? She’d certainly heard the word before, but always in passing and never had it been directed at her. Again, it should have been distasteful, but something in his tone created an intimacy that caused something warm to unfurl deep in her belly. “No. He is merely caressing her behind,” she said, her voice so low even she had trouble hearing it.

“You mean her ass?”

Her belly trembled. She refused to be cowed—or overcome—by the blunt language. “Yes, her ass.”

“Tell me how he is caressing it. Softly?” Duldon trailed fingers along her arm, the barest brush but every tiny hair stood on end. “Or with more pressure?”

Suddenly his hands rested upon her shoulders and the fingers dug firmly into flesh, moving, kneading…It felt so good. Tension had built up there, at the joint of shoulder and neck, and she had not even been aware of it. She sighed softly, her body arching back toward him, moving to do that which it already desired.

“It is more like the second, I think,” she replied, trying to keep her wits about her. His fingers were magic, and the thoughts he put into her head forbidden.



“Is she enjoying it?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“How can you tell?”

“Her face. I can see her face. Her eyes lie half closed, and her lips—even without being able to hear a word—I can feel the moans that escape them,” she answered.

“And how else can you tell?”

Bliss looked more carefully, trying to determine how she could feel the woman’s pleasure. “Her skin, it grows flushed, on her…her ass, where he touches, but also all over. She looks as if she were walking uphill on a summer day.”

“I like your description, but are there any other ways you can feel her pleasure?”

Was he leaning more over her? It was hard to tell, but with each breath she took she felt that there was more contact between them, and more shivers spread through her. “I truly don’t know what you mean.”

“Tell me, is she naked? Completely? Can you see her cunny?”

Cunny? Bliss pondered the word for a moment, distracted from the scene before her. “You mean her woman’s place?”

“Yes, I imagine that is what I mean. Have you never heard the word ‘cunny’ before?” He whispered in her ear, his breath teasing her.

“I don’t think so. It would not be surprising if one of my brothers or the stable boys used it, but perhaps I did not understand and so forgot.”

“I don’t imagine you will forget this time, my sweet. Now, tell me, can you see it?” His fingers began to knead her shoulders again and lightning shot down through her breasts and then between her legs. She moved from foot to foot trying to find comfort, trying to fight the need growing deep in her belly.