A Lesson in Thorns (Thornchapel #1)(87)

“Yes.”

“Run your hands to where her legs meet her body, that crease right there, yes—now use your thumbs to part her cunt even more. She’s not allowed to have any secrets from us, none at all, because we’re going to fuck every secret place of hers, aren’t we?”

“Yes,” Delphine answers, trembling.

And then I’m opened up to her eyes. To everyone’s eyes, really, because even Auden and Saint shift to look at my virgin goddess cunt.

I have to resist the urge to whimper, and they haven’t even touched me for real yet.

“See this tight, wet hole?” Rebecca asks. “What are we going to do with it?”

“Fuck it,” Delphine murmurs, her gaze going hungry on my body.

“That’s right. We’re going to fuck this tight little pussy until it comes. And what about this?”

She moves one of Delphine’s hands lower down, and then I feel a fingertip graze lightly over the hot button of my asshole. A place even I’ve never played with.

Something like fear and hunger—but filthier than both—shivers through me as they touch.

“Could we fuck this?” Rebecca asks her protégé.

I lose the war against my self-control and moan as Delphine continues stroking me, wonder in her expression as she watches me squirm with shame and dirty pleasure as she does.

“Yes,” Delphine replies, her lush lips parting in that way they do when she gets caught up in something. “We could fuck it.”

“And what about that pretty mouth of hers?” Rebecca asks, directing Delphine to look at my face. “Those plump, rosy lips she has, like she’s always wearing lipstick. Wouldn’t it feel good to fuck that mouth? Make her suck on all our secret places too?”

Delphine’s eyes hood. “Yes.”

“Then I think that’s where we should start. You are the lord, after all, you have certain rights, do you not?”

Delphine nods, mouth parted all the way now. “I am. I do.”

“Good. Lay back. Perhaps Becket wouldn’t mind lending his lap for his lord to recline on?”

“I wouldn’t mind,” Becket says huskily, and arranges himself so that Delphine can pillow herself on his thigh. I think I can see his erection even through the gleaming curtain of her hair across his lap, but I don’t have much time to look, because then Rebecca snaps her fingers—a sound I’m very attuned to. I’m up on my knees in an instant.

“Do good little sluts eat their lord’s pussy when asked?” Rebecca asks me, arms crossed over her chest and one eyebrow up in a perfect, demanding arch.

“Yes, Rebecca,” I murmur, keeping my eyes cast down.

“And are you a good little slut?”

I shiver. “Yes,” I reply obediently.

“Then it’s time for your lord to use your mouth.”

Without waiting for further instructions, I lower myself to a crawling position and move between Delphine’s open legs, risking Rebecca’s censure for dallying when I give myself a few stolen seconds of caressing Delphine’s soft thighs. They’re so warm, so giving, dimpled in kissable dimples that I could spend a lifetime learning the constellations of.

And then I remember Auden will never have a chance to.

Does he feel strange watching me stroke her legs like this? Watching me swirl a finger through her gold curls and part her folds so I can taste her?

Is he jealous? Sad?

Horny?

All of those things?

There’s a short, sharp flick on my ass that I know without looking came from Rebecca. “Focus,” she orders, and I try to forget Auden and get down to the business at hand instead.

I’ve never done this before, obviously, but my motto for everything from college to drinking is that you can’t go wrong with enthusiasm, so I simply dip my mouth to her and begin.

My lips brush across her curls—they’re soft and fine, damp and clinging to her flesh—and I kiss my way through them, feeling her quiver as I do. There’s a scent to them, disturbed by my wandering mouth the same way petals release their scent when you rub them, but it’s not floral. It’s sweet and a little earthy and unlike anything I’ve ever smelled. I run the tip of my nose along the top curve of her, breathing her in.

It’s an aphrodisiac, because as soon as I do, as soon as my lungs are full of Delphine, my body pulses with heat, responding in kind by slicking my pussy even more, and my mouth waters, it actually waters for the taste of her. I part my lips and let my open mouth slide down, my tongue dipping over her clit and down to her waiting hole.

Delphine cries out—a good cry, I think—given the approving noise Rebecca makes and the rewarding swat I get on my ass for it.

So I follow her cries, I follow the curl of her toes on my back and the quavering of her belly, and the eventual desperate tugs of her fingers in my hair. I trace my tongue along the inner folds and the rim of her vagina, and lap up the tart-sweet taste of her body, and then I move up and suckle her clit until she thrashes in Becket’s lap. I learn what makes her moan and what makes her sigh, and when to do what to create the perfect balance of tension and languor. I alternate between balancing on my elbows so that I can stroke the sensitive skin of her inner thighs and sliding my hands underneath her so I can cup and fondle the generous curves of her ass and angle her pussy up to my mouth.