“You watched?”
“I couldn’t stop watching. I just couldn’t.”
I sat back. My cock was purely visible now, but I didn’t care. She’d seen me shag one of the maids, for heaven’s sake. She’d probably seen all of my cock already. Seeing it behind my trousers couldn’t make the situation any worse. And there was nothing I could do to make it go away. Not with the scent of her so close. Not with the heat of her so close. “You watched me shag the maid. And that led to you touching yourself.”
“Well, yes.” She began to pace. Her voice shook, but she continued as though she spoke of the weather. “She was crying out. And she really wanted to finish, she said. But she couldn’t. So, you touched her. You touched her and began to rub her. And she found great pleasure at it, although I didn’t know how at the time.” She took a deep breath. “So, I tried it.”
“And?” My hand lowered of its own accord to rasp against my cock head. She smiled and her cheeks turned even rosier.
“And I liked it.”
“And Miss Houghton caught you at it?”
She rolled her eyes. “No. That nasty little new girl caught me. Evidently, I made a noise as I… you know.” My heart thumped heavily at the very thought of watching this girl find pleasure.
“You know?” I choked out.
“As I… finished. I really don’t know what it’s called. But it’s when I quiver and it sort of feels like some kind of ecstasy washes over me.” She stopped pacing to look at me. “She told on me.” I would have given my last shilling to see the look on Mrs. Haughton’s face when she repeated the tale.
“And you say you learned this behavior from me?” I asked. “When I stroked the maid?” I vaguely remembered the encounter.
“Yes. So, you see, my lord, it’s quite your fault that I am in trouble.”
I held up a hand to stop her speech. I needed a moment to compose myself. She bit down on that bottom lip again. Good lord, she would force me to kiss her before our talk was done.
“Are you still an innocent, Miss Winters?” I asked softly. I watched as goose bumps settled upon her arms.
“Well, in the general sense of the term,” she prevaricated.
If she’d hit me over the head with an anvil, I wouldn’t have been more surprised.
“I’ve never been with a man, but my maidenhead is gone. I’m fairly certain.” She lifted her hand to her mouth and began to chew on her fingernail. She said it as though we discussed the weather. Like we weren’t talking about her innocence or a man breaching the core of her. I pulled my handkerchief from my pocket to mop my brow.
“And how, pray tell, did that happen if you have never been with a man.”
“I think I did it myself,” she said.
“With?” I imagined her fingers sinking into her depths, making a squelching noise as she pressed them inside herself. Dear God.
“Does it matter?”
I shook my head. I’d never been so taken aback. I wanted this little slip of a girl more than I wanted my next breath. I had to ask. This conversation was the thing of fantasies. I’d use it later when I shagged my wife. “How often do you pleasure yourself?”
She looked me right in the eye. “As often as I can?”
I grinned like a school boy. I was certain every tooth in my head was showing.
“And do you often find pleasure?”
“Not often. I’m afraid I’m not very good at it.”
Ouch. That hurt. The idea of this girl reaching for pleasure and not finding it pained me. It made me ache, both in my cock and my heart.
“Is something wrong?” she asked.
“If you were a bit older,” I began, without even thinking. I wished I could take the words back immediately. My hand dropped down to adjust my cock. Her eyes followed my move and I let them. I didn’t stop. I would go to hell for this. I was certain of it.
“May I see it?” she asked suddenly.
See what? Certainly not my cock?
“Your…” She wasn’t certain what to call it? But she pointed to my lap.
“My cock?” I choked out.
“Is that what it’s called?” She smiled softly.
Cock. Among other things. Right now, it called to be inside her. I had to get her out of my study. But I simply nodded slowly. “I don’t know what to do with you,” I admitted.
“Punish me,” she said with urgency. She reached for the birch stick and picked up my hand, then pressed it into my palm. Then she threw herself upon my person. Across my lap actually. She put the birch stick in my hand and pointed her bottom at me. Certainly, she didn’t think I would strike her?
“What are you doing, Miss Winters?” I nearly shouted. But then I squelched my need to shout. She was lying on my cock. I held my hands out to the side to keep from touching her.
She looked back at me over her shoulder. “Don’t you want to spank me?”
I swiped a hand across my mouth. “More than you know,” I mumbled. I wanted to spank her. Then breach all her defenses as I surged inside her.
“Then do it.” She wiggled her bum at me.
My cock swelled even more against my belly. She would make me come in my trousers if she did that again.
“Don’t do that,” I ordered. I tossed the birch stick onto the desk. Blast and damn. Her bottom was nice and round. I thanked God idly that it was covered by her skirts. If not, I’d be done for. Of its own free will, my hand dropped onto her bottom. It was a gentle thwack. One that betrayed my need. But couldn’t have hurt her. “This is wrong, Miss Winters,” I said quickly. So, so wrong.
“I know,” she whispered.
Then she reached back and ruched her gown up in her fingers until it pooled around her waist, baring her bum for me. The tender white flesh trembled with her wiggling into place. I swiped a hand down my face, trying to still by rapidly beating heart.
“There. Now you don’t have to spank me through my skirts.”
I stilled. That plump flesh looked so perfect. So, round. So… needy. I absently hoped I hadn’t harmed her when I’d lowered that light blow. But her skin was a little red. I lowered my hand to soothe that red spot. Her arse clenched at my touch, but then she released it. Her skin was as soft as doe-skin. And silky smooth. Perfectly unblemished. Slim hips and a round bottom. She would be the object of my fantasies from this day forth. “I cannot bring myself to mar this skin,” I said. I hated the tremble of my own voice.
“You won’t punish me?” she asked. She looked over my shoulder at me again. Her pins had come loose and her curls were hanging in her face. I brushed them back so I could look into her icy blue eyes.
“I can’t,” I told her. But my hand had a will of its own. Apparently the same one as my cock. I dipped it between her thighs until my middle finger touched her clit. That little numb that probably pounded as loudly as my cock. I couldn’t spank this girl. But I could show her how to find pleasure. I dipped my finger into her tight little pussy and brought some moisture forward to her nub. She nearly shot off my lap when it slid my finger across it three times, strumming it like a violin. “I shouldn’t have done that,” I croaked out.
“Do it again?” she whispered. I’d never felt like this before. I ached. And she probably did to. I should have declined. But I didn’t. I couldn’t. I spread her cheeks again and slipped my hand between her legs.