Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 75898 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 304(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75898 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 304(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
I came and came, because Cal made me keep riding his caressing hand, sobbing and moaning, to orgasm after orgasm. Through it all, he murmured to me, encouraging me in a patronizing way that seemed to multiply the pleasure as it increased the heat of the continuous blush in my face.
“There you go, darlin’. Good girl. Come for me. Get on my hand, now. That’s it. So nice and wet and ready.”
Ready. That word seemed to shoot through me with its own jolt of need. It brought on the biggest of my orgasms, and I screamed as my backside surged backward and forward, desperately milking all the pleasure my pussy could find on Cal’s knowing fingers.
He moved his hand, just as I had begun to think that the pleasure had become a punishment, and felt my whole body shudder with irresistible need for more anyway. He squeezed firmly, one final time, as if to make absolutely sure I knew how thoroughly he had just taken possession of my most private places, then he pulled his fingers away and started to rub gentle circles over my whole backside. I lay limp over his knee and sobbed at the comforting sensation as his palm soothed my right cheek, then my left cheek, then the back of my right thigh, then the back of my left thigh, methodically, it seemed, helping me down from the top of the cliff of endless arousal he had perched me on.
He had let go of my wrists at some point, and I hadn’t even noticed. When he stilled his right hand on my ass, just holding both my cheeks very gently, he moved his left further up under my dress and started to rub my back. Again I had the feeling of simply being in his hands, suspended between them, somehow. A new burst of sobs came from my chest, and I moved my hands back to my face to cover it, feeling the wetness of my tears on my fingers as I hid my expression—unnecessarily, again—from the world, and from Cal above all.
“Shh, darlin’,” he murmured. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”
Such simple words. I might have called them silly and weak if they didn’t seem to me at that moment to comfort me more than anything deeper or more complex, more psychological, could have.
I’m okay. I’m okay even though my ‘suitor’ just taught me a humiliating but impossibly pleasurable lesson.
“I don’t… I don’t…” I said, my mind searching desperately for words that might somehow express all the conflict in my heart and my body.
“You don’t belong to me,” Cal said simply, in the same gentle voice.
My eyes went wide. I thought he would take his hands away, to accompany his matter-of-fact statement with the action that seemed most likely to suit it. I had let out a little whimper of protest, a pitiful, begging sound that the deepest part of me hoped would persuade him to keep soothing me as—I felt like—only his firm hands could do.
But his knowing hands stayed where they were, though that seemed not to match the acknowledgment he had just made, that he didn’t have the right to touch me that way.
“That’s right,” he told me, still holding my bottom and rubbing my back. “Maybe you will. Maybe someday soon. But for the moment I’m just courting you the old-fashioned way, even though here in Grasskiln that means I can teach you things our great-grandparents probably didn’t think proper for a suitor to teach the girl he was wooing.”
CHAPTER 22
Cal
I sent Grace to the washroom to freshen up, and went to get the steaks from the fridge. The rock-hard state of my cock, slightly uncomfortably confined by my jeans, distracted me enough that I nearly forgot to light the grill.
By the time Grace emerged, though, looking fresh as a daisy and just as naturally gorgeous, I had the potato salad out and the burners had gotten nearly hot enough to put the right sear on the grass-fed sirloins. My erection had calmed down a little as I salted the meat, but the shy expression on Grace’s pretty face brought it back to life with a fierce leap, so full of arousal that I had to clear my throat and look away.
It definitely didn’t all have to do with her beauty, of course. Pretty girls couldn’t get me going the way this one did just with their faces or their bodies—even girls who, like Grace with her red hair and green eyes, fell into the category I thought of as my type. Pretty girls who rode my lewdly caressing hand the way Grace had done, flowing with their private lubrication and crying out with untold, shameless pleasure… well, they were another story. Especially when they blushed that way, meeting my eyes afterward.
No, she didn’t belong to me. Not yet. But I knew from the look in her eyes that Grace Franklin understood how soon she would belong to me, if things unfolded as they should. More—and this was the part that had made my cock jump painfully along my thigh—her expression told me that she had started to understand a good deal about what it would entail; what starting to belong to me as her accepted suitor and possible future husband meant.