Free The Bride of Larkspear by Sherry Thomas

darling, it was to pretend that I was someone else. My heart trembles a little at the memory. “You will make me blush.”
    “Then you will be blushing all night,” she replies with mock severity. “So put aside your maidenly reticence and do what I tell you.”
    My blood pounding in my ears, I pull my shirt off. She comes close and trails a hand over my abdomen. “Pretty,” she murmurs, passing the sash through her fingers. “Very pretty.”
    Then she pushes me against a bedpost and binds my hands behind my back with the sash. Now I am the one in fetters. She inspects me from all angles, smiling as if she has been let in on a marvelous secret.
    “I’m beginning to see why you liked it so well when I was shackled. Did it make you feel powerful, Larkspear?”
    Powerful? Yes, but only in the sense that at last I had the chance I’d long craved to change her mind. The chance for a new beginning.
    “
I
feel powerful, darling.” She lets the robe fall from her shoulders, then extracts her hairpins and shakes her head. Her hair tumbles free, a glorious cascade, strands of it brushing her taut nipples. “Sublimely powerful. I can do anything I want. And you…you will like it.”
    She walks away from me, the ends of her hair brushing the very top of her bottom. My mouth becomes completely parched. She swings herself around on the next bedpost and poses as if she, too, has her hands tied behind her back. Then she laughs at her own joke, strolls to a low chest of drawers, bends over it, her sex shamelessly displayed, and looks back at me. “Is this something you like?”
    “Yes.”
    She straightens, sits down in a chair, her legs wide-open. “You like this too?”
    “Yes.” My voice is hoarse.
    She returns to the other bedpost and rubs her breasts against it. “What about this?”
    “You are making me mindless with lust.”
    She laughs softly. “No, Larkspear, I am
going
to make you mindless with lust. And the first step is the removal of the rest of your clothes.”
    She hooks her fingers in the waistband of my trousers. “Your body, darling, is a thing of beauty. Let us never obscure beauty, shall we?”
    It should come as no surprise to her that I am desperately aroused. But still she draws an audible breath as she pushes my trousers past my jutting cock. “What a monster,” she murmurs. “You think I want to be sodomized by
this
?”
    “Why not? It’s your monster.”
    “My monster.” She runs a finger along the side of my cock. “Hmm.”
    She drops to her knees before me. I forget how to breathe.
    “You were terribly rough with my monster the other day.” She keeps stroking my cock. “Look at it. It’s still all swollen and tender.”
    I stare at her. “Make it feel better, then.”
    She gives the head of my cock a quick kiss. It flexes. “Does that help?”
    “No.”
    She licks it. “How about this?”
    I breathe hard. “Still not much use.”
    She looks down a moment, as if puzzled. Then, before I quite realize what is going on, she takes me into her mouth. I jerk with the pleasure of it.
    She releases me with an audible pop. “That?”
    “Perhaps, if you keep at it.”
    “My goodness, you are demanding for a man with his hands tied behind his back.”
    My knees turn weak as she takes me into her mouth again, slowly, slowly, then not so slowly. I want to spill my seed down her throat right away. I want to hold off coming forever, so I can remain in her mouth for the next eternity.
    I cannot hold off forever. Her eager lips, her mobile tongue, her teasing, hungry eyes. My muscles tense; my breaths shatter; my hands clench behind the bedpost. I am on the verge.
    She moves back just enough so that her lips hover near my cock, but do not touch it. “Are you better now?”
    “No.” God damn it. I need to be enveloped by her hot, willing mouth. “No!”
    She makes an exaggerated moue of disappointment. “Well, I guess there is nothing more I can do then.” She rises. “Perhaps I should