Free Wedding Favors by Sheri Whitefeather Page B

artists, a few Art Deco sculptures, an amusingly suggestive wall clock, and an abundance of gilded mirrors—including a large one above the iron bed—all set the mood for decadence. But the bed was the centerpiece. Specially commissioned in France by Grand-père, the hand-wrought master-piece was large enough for an orgy, yet hid secrets in its iron lace, perfect for the intimate initiation of a novice by her new master.
    “I don’t usually sleep in here,” he told her. “Unless I have company.”
    “Do you have company often?” she asked, a jealous bite to her tone.
    He smiled. Jealousy was a good thing between lovers. “Not nearly often enough. In fact, hardly ever anymore. I’ve been waiting for ... someone special to bring.”
    A look of uncertain hope mollified her expression. But she didn’t comment.
    “Your dress goes remarkably well with the room,” he said, bringing her further into it. Calf-length and elegantly cut, reminiscent of what his nude Art Deco figurines might have worn had they been dressed, the hem of her slim-fitting pale pink satin gown slashed down dramatically on one side, nearly touching the side of her sexy pink high heel. The draped neckline exposed the slopes of her breasts to perfection.
    She glanced down, smoothing her hands over the slick fabric. “Laura has wonderful taste.”
    “Mmm. Too bad you won’t be wearing it much longer.”
    “No?” She nibbled her lower lip, looking like a schoolgirl about to be punished by the older teacher she had a crush on. The thought was more than appealing.
    “You have been a very naughty bridesmaid,” he announced in low tones. “And as your groomsman, I feel it is my duty to discipline you.”
    Her throat worked. “But I haven’t been naughty,” she demurred, catching on at once to the fantasy.
    His lip curled in alacrity. “Haven’t you? Tessa, what were you doing at dawn this morning?”
    Her cheeks reddened. “I ... I was giving a man a blow job.”
    He frowned at her. “And where were you doing this?”
    “Outside,” she confessed reluctantly. “In a courtyard. It was deserted,” she hastened to add.
    “But in full view of a dozen windows and balconies?”
    “Yes.”
    “Who was this man? Your boyfriend?”
    “I—No, I met him ... last night.”
    “A stranger, Tessa?”
    “Yes.”
    “You had a strange man’s cock in your mouth, with any number of people watching? And you don’t consider that naughty?”
    “I guess it was,” she whispered. “I am naughty. Very naughty.”
    “Bon,” he said. “Then you must be punished, non?”
    “Yes, Shay.”
    “Call me sir,” he ordered.
    “Sir,” she obeyed, though her feet shifted. A sign of defiance ? He’d see about that.
    He took a step backward and lifted his hands away from his sides. “Take my jacket off for me.”
    After a heartbeat’s hesitation, she came to him and slid it from his shoulders, her hands caressing the muscles of his biceps as she drew it off. She leaned in and placed a kiss on the side of his throat.
    “Did I say you could kiss me?”
    “No, sir,” she murmured breathily. “I couldn’t help myself. I want you so much.”
    He’d been aroused since they got to the plantation, but at her sweet declaration, his cock went thick and hard. “I’ll decide when you can touch me,” he said. “Now take off my tie and unbutton my shirt.”
    Her fingers fumbled with the knot, but she managed to slide the bow tie from around his neck. She started with his top button, struggling to pop it free. Bon Dieu, she was driving him mad!
    It finally gave, and she glanced up at him briefly in relief, then went to work on the next one. He stood his ground, burning with splendid impatience. When she’d gotten halfway through the buttons, he couldn’t wait.
    “Lick my nipples,” he commanded.
    Her eyes darted to the V of exposed skin. She drew the shirt to one side and put her tongue to the disc of his nipple, flicking around the nub like a butterfly. He