“Is it wrong to feel pride?” he whispered. “Pride in knowing that I have been the one to help you feel good?”
She lifted a brow. “The kind of pride that makes a man go boasting to his friends?”
“God, no.” The idea appalled him. “This is for us alone.”
Her smile was like honey warmed by the sun. “A bit of conceit is good for everyone. And you’ve earned it.”
Miss Holme’s praise made his chest swell with gratification. He stroked his hands along the silk of her legs.
“I want to kiss you again,” he said.
She leaned down and put her mouth on his. He would have thought the taste of her still on his lips might have repelled her, but no, she drank from him deeply. Reaching up, he cradled the side of her jaw with his palm, running his thumb back and forth over the down along her cheek.
“Our lesson isn’t done,” she murmured against his mouth. “You’ve been such a very good student. I think you’ve earned a special privilege.”
He had no idea what sort of privilege she meant, but the throaty note in her voice made his throbbing cock jerk in response.
“Tell me what I need to do.”
“Lean against the front of my desk,” she said in a low but firm command.
He was on his feet in an instant, though moving around while sporting a furious erection made him slightly less agile. As he took his place, planting his arse on the edge of the desk, he smiled to see how unsteadily she got to her feet, and how her hands continued to tremble as she smoothed her skirts.
She went to a wooden chest and opened it. He knew that chest, since it contained several hornbooks and an out-of-date globe which had been used to teach his father geography. The world had changed quite a bit since then—God knew that the world had completely altered for Owen within the last thirty minutes.
From the chest, she removed a plaid wool blanket, which she folded into a neat square.
“What’s that for?” he asked while she set the blanket on the floor by his feet.
Her lips quirked. “You’re a clever man. I’m sure you can hazard a guess.” Her gaze flicked to the tented front of his breeches.
Shock and desire tore through him like a seismic event. He growled, “Yes.”
“Darling boy,” Cecilia said, leaning close for a kiss.
“Not a boy,” he rumbled into her mouth. “A man.”
“Foolish of me not to remember that.” She palmed his cock through his buckskins, and his eyes rolled back. “I have abundant evidence right here.”
She bent and nuzzled her face against the length of his erection. Power coursed through her to hear him hiss in pleasure.
“Have you ever had this before?” she murmured.
He shook his head. “Read about it.”
God, how she adored leading him on this journey. When she had taken her first lover years ago, she had been the one without experience, learning at the hands and mouth of a man who made his living as a sculptor. Fortunately, Georges had been gentle and patient, explaining the mysteries of desire and bodies. Not all of her lovers since had been as careful or attentive to her needs. Not all of them had respected her as a person, and she had vowed she would take men to her bed only when she desired it. There was strength in her sexuality, and she claimed all of that for herself.
She could guide Owen and show him that one could be fully in command and still respect the needs of their partner.
“What did you read?” she asked him.
“That it doesn’t just feel good, but it also makes a man feel powerful.”
She gave him a knowing smile. “Those books were written by men. You’ve much to learn.”
Her voice was steady but her hands were not as she undid the placket of his breeches, then reached in and wrapped her fingers around his cock.
“Goddamn it,” he growled. Another sound, this one wordless with need, tore from him when she sank onto her knees, the blanket beneath them serving as a cushion. A gleam of moisture shone in the slit of his cock.
She held his erection and angled it toward her mouth. “Watch me,” she breathed. He needed to know who gave him pleasure, and who could take it away.
His gaze fastened on her as though he could not look anywhere else. She dipped down, her lips drawing the crown into her mouth.
“Oh, fuck,” he burst out.
She pulled him from her mouth to say in wry admonishment, “Language.”
“I’m sorry, Miss Holme.”
She gave him a smile. “I like it. I want to hear how much pleasure I’m giving you. But never forget that your pleasure belongs to me. It’s mine to bestow and mine to take away. Your cock in my mouth puts you in my power. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Miss Holme.”
Her heart pounded at his words, and she reveled in their forbidden roles as teacher and student.
He swore again when she took him fully into her mouth, sucking him deep. With her hand, she stroked his shaft, timing it with bobs of her head, careful that there was no part of him that went unattended.
A steady stream of profane language spilled from him with each swirl of her tongue and pump of her hand. Her student couldn’t keep his hips still, thrusting into her mouth. Yet she sensed his hesitation, as though he feared his own untamed response.
He gasped, “I’m sor—”
Before he could finish apologizing for his brutish behavior, she grabbed hold of one of his hands and guided it to the back of her head.
She drew back. “Remember how I’m the one with the power? I’m giving you permission to do this—because I desire it. Hold my head so I can take you in as deep as I can. Then I want you to fuck my mouth. Do not forget, though, that in this moment, you have never been more vulnerable, which is its own ecstasy. No book written by any man will ever tell you that.”
His Adam’s apple bobbed, and he nodded.
She felt his control slip away as he did as she directed. He cradled the back of her head, allowing her to swallow the entirety of his cock. His hips moved, steady at first. Then it was as though he couldn’t stop himself from going faster and faster. Through it all, she stayed with him, her cheeks hollowing, the small schoolroom filled with the sounds of her sucking his cock.
“Going to…come,” he gasped.
She didn’t pull away. Her efforts redoubled as she drew on him harder, loving the taste and sensation of his cock in her mouth, and his yielding to her command.
He clamped his jaw tight as he climaxed. Swallowing his seed, her gaze stayed riveted to his face. In his surrender, he was never more beautiful, and more power pulsed through her to know that she gave him this.
When his last shudders of release faded, she tucked his softening cock back into his breeches and did up the buttons.
He seemed to struggle to open his eyes. With a voice drunk on pleasure, he said, “I understand the lesson now. The one on their knees can hold power, too.”
She chuckled softly, pleased he’d understood her intent. “Good students are suitably rewarded.”
“Miss Holme,” he said, “I will be the best student you’ve ever had.”
She straightened, and after setting her person to rights, stroked a finger over his chin. Tenderness swept through her, as well as a protectiveness she hadn’t anticipated. Inconvenient, those feelings, when they could only be passing amusements to each other. God knew that a governess had no business developing an attachment to her ducal lover.