His hands slid up my ankles, past my low boots, and up my calves and thighs. I’d planned on a quick swim, so I hadn’t worn anything underneath my dress. He discovered this when he reached my upper thighs.
Now it was his turn to draw in a breath. “Miss Leavold,” he said huskily. “You have been very bad today, haven’t you?” He rucked up my skirt, drawing it up to my hips. “Let’s see exactly how bad you’ve been.”
The skirt was now bunched up around my waist and my pussy was exposed to the open air.
“It was just so I could go swimming,” I explained, a little breathlessly. He looked ravenous.
“Was it? And were you not hoping you would also run into me?” He ran a finger down my folds and I shuddered.
“I was hoping that.” I couldn’t lie with his fingers on me.
“Hoping what?”
“To find you.”
“And?” A hand reached up to caress my breast. I moaned.
“And that you would touch me again,” I whispered.
“I want to, wildcat. I do. But I have promised you that I wouldn’t.”
“Please,” I said breathlessly. “Just this once. I’ll do anything…”
He continued running his fingertips along the most sensitive places, stopping now and again to swirl gentle circles on my clitoris. The rain made a solid sheet of privacy around us, but at that point, I didn’t care. The entire kitchen staff could have gathered around to watch Mr. Markham pleasure me, and I would have still begged him to keep going.
“Anything?”
“Yes.”
“I will make a note of that.” And then he did something unexpected—he bent his head down and licked along my seam. The feeling was so soft and sent such an electric jolt through me that I gasped. He impatiently pushed my legs furthe
r apart and put his tongue to me again, this time concentrating on my clitoris, alternating between pressure and light flicking motions that stirred me into a frenzy.
“You taste so good,” he said in that growling voice of his. “I could do this all day. Would you like me to?”
I nodded. I wanted his mouth on me always. And yet, as I looked down and saw the stiff outline pressing against the front of his pants, I thought I could also happily trade places and spend my days with my mouth on him. The mere thought made me almost wild with desire. My hips bucked, and I ran my fingers through his hair, tugging as he sucked and nibbled and licked.
“How does it feel, Ivy?” he asked.
“Wonderful,” I managed.
He slid a finger inside of me and I couldn’t control the way I pulled at his hair. If it hurt, he made no mention, but the corners of his mouth turned up, as if my wildness pleased him.
“I’m the first to taste you,” he said. “The first to taste this perfect cunt. And it is so perfect, Ivy. So damn perfect. If I had my way, I would fuck it right now with the whole world able to watch.”
“Please.” I could see us in my mind now, see his hard cock pressing into me, and nothing sounded better. “I want you inside of me.”
“You don’t know what you’re saying,” he said roughly and then he bent his head down again. He sucked and teased at my clitoris while his finger slid in and out, finding just the right spot inside of me to make my toes curl and my core clench. I looked down, seeing the top of his head between my thighs, seeing my skirt around my waist like a whore, and then it was over. Just as quickly as it had built, the tension in my body imploded, starting as a series of contractions at my center and radiating out to every digit, every muscle.
Mr. Markham withdrew his finger, pulled back as if to examine his work, and, after giving my pussy one last look, stood up. I stayed where I was, legs still spread, secret parts of me still exposed, and my eyes fixed on his erection.
I reached for it and Mr. Markham let me, closing his eyes as I ran my fingers along it. With a sigh, his eyes sprang open. “Kneel,” he said. I scrambled to my knees, at this point eager to do anything he asked. Eager for more of this type of play. My body burned for it.
He sat down and began unbuttoning his trousers. “Look at me,” he said.
I couldn’t tear my eyes away from his hands, his long fingers slowly but deliberately working the buttons through the buttonholes. “Look at my face, Miss Leavold.”
I did. He drew out his cock and my eyes drifted back down. “At my face,” he reminded me, not so gently.
