Jane Eyre (45 page)

 Instead of scolding me, he held my right breast in one hand and pressed his left palm to the small of my back. He held me secure and yet captive at the same time.

 He bit each nipple then instantly used his tongue as a salve. My knees grew weak and I found I was again climbing that mountain at whose peak I would need release.

 I moved my hips and pressed my toes downward. I needed— My master—as always—seemed to realise when I was at that point where I would shatter, and he pulled back.

 “Seeing you thus, with those buds moist from my mouth and tight with want stirs me. I see we have more nipple exploration in our future. Fortunately, miss, we have a lifetime ahead of us.”

 The reminder that I would soon be his bride filled me with unspeakable joy. I had heard whispers that some women did not enjoy the pleasures of their husband’s bed. I, for one, fully intended to demand this type of attention from here forward. It would not be a duty for me, rather it would be an exploration, one of the intellect as much as the physical body.

 He took the hand that I had placed on his shoulder and removed it. He kissed my knuckles in a true gentleman fashion that once again stole my heart.

 “The hour grows late, and we have much still to enjoy. Step out of your bloomers. Because I happen to like a lengthened look to your calves, you may leave on your shoes, though a sensible fashion they are.”

 “My shoes are serviceable, sir. They suit me well.”

 “This is not the time for an argument about that. I have said you may keep them on.”

 How clever was he! By commenting on my footwear and vexing me, he had avoided a disagreement about removing the remainder of my clothes!

 “Unless you want them trampled, I remind you a final time to step out of your bloomers.”

 What choice had I? He hung them on the briars, as he had done with the rest of my clothing.

 “Now, miss, turn around slowly, a pirouette, if you please. I wish to see every bit of Thornfield’s future mistress.”

 That thought, piled atop the others, made tonight seem like a magical fairy fantasy.

 With grand impatience, he snapped his fingers. I leapt to action, complying as he’d requested. I completed a circle and then began another.

 “Very lovely, miss. Now stop.”

 I stopped with my back to him.

 “Spread your legs wider than your shoulders and then curl your hands around your ankles.”

 “But, sir! That promises to be terribly uncomfortable, and it will expose me to your eyes.”

 “That is exactly what I wish to see!”

 I huffed out my displeasure. Faced away from him as he was, I could not tell his reaction. I got into the position he indicated. My hair brushed the ground. Where was the prim and proper Miss Jane Eyre, and who was this creature of pleasure in her place?

 My master teased my exposed femininity. With a memory that was unspeakably sound, asked he, “What is this called, Miss Eyre?”

 That terrible need churned in me again. I knew he would deny me a hundred times if I did not abide by his rules. Thankfully he could not see the scalding of shame on my cheeks. “My quim, sir.”

”Your heated and wet cunny, Miss Eyre?”

 With great effort, I managed a whispered, “Yes.”

 “I fear I did not hear you.”

 I called upon all my years of elocution lessons as I repeated aloud, “It is my quim, sir. My heated and wet quim!”

 “Do you see? The ground did not swallow you whole with the use of the word quim! You were not smitten! What’s more, miss, you very much pleased your master and future husband!”

 My heart soared on angel’s wings. What else mattered? What existed between us mattered not to the rest of the world.

 “Is your cunny a bit sore from my earlier abuse?”

 “It is, indeed.”

 “I told you I intend to tell you what I’m going to do, Jane.”

 “Yes, sir, you did.”

 “I am going to pull back the hood of your clitoris.”

 He touched me there and then said, “Tell me what it’s called.”

 “Do you delight in tormenting me so?”

 “I want you fully comfortable with your body. I want you to be able to ask for what you want. I want you to say to me, ‘Sir, spank my quim; sir, beat my bottom cheeks; sir, play with my clitoris; sir, suck my nipples so hard I crest from the pleasure.’ For when things are named and embarrassment is gone, much more satisfaction can be had. I would make that a gift to you, Jane.”

 “The ability to use those words is a gift, sir?” I demanded with more than a fair amount of scepticism.

 “You intentionally misheard, my wayward bride. The gift is being an equal in all things, including sexually. You cannot hope that I will always read every sigh and secret wish any more than I will know each time you are tired or have a thirst. You must be as comfortable as I am in our sexual joining. You have no qualm about asking for a cup of tea; you should have no qualm about asking for release.”

 He pinched a buttock.

 “It’s my clitoris, sir!”

 “Neither the ground nor the heavens opened up and Miss Eyre has used the word quim and clitoris! Now, fair one, I shall pull back that tiny little hood that covers your clitoris and I shall expose the little nub.”

 He did more than just that! He fondled it with tremendous tenderness. Embarrassment fled as he suggested it might. In its place was something combustible.

 He stroked me again and again.

 “I would enter you now, Miss Eyre.”

 My grip tightened on my ankles.

 “I will be easy, but you will surrender your maidenhead this night.”

 Nerves unsteadied me.

 “Please stand and face me, Miss Eyre.”

 He lent his assistance. In moments, I stood before him, feeling the shortness of my stature as compared to his athletic physique.

 “When we are alone like this, it is my preference that you keep your hands behind your back.”

 He waited for me to follow his instruction. Honestly it was easier for me this way. Having something to do with myself allowed me to more fully engage my mind.

 “Keep your legs slightly apart. I will have access to your cunny at all times, yet I do not require your discomfort.”

 I moved into position.

 “Lovely, Miss Eyre. And tip back your head. No hiding ever again.”

 He was still fully dressed. How I wished for clothing to cover my nudity. The advantage seemed all his. But I could not deny my thrill. My nipples were still hard. Moisture dried between my legs. My thighs quivered.

“Fear not. You shall have my guidance, and you shall have control.”

 “I am afraid I do not understand, sir.”

 “Of course you do not understand, fair Jane. You have shown me great trust thus far, and I shall continue to earn it. You need not fear you will become with child. I am prepared with a safe, but after we are Mr and Mrs Rochester, there will be nothing between our skin. From here on forward, neither of us will take another.”

 I was once again reminded he was a man of the world. I was not his first love. He had renounced all others, that served as my comfort. Not all men did. It was not unusual for a man of his station to have a mistress. But in me, Mr Rochester admitted he had found his equal.

He removed his coat and shook it out, placing it on the ground in front of the bench.

“Traditionally men take their wives while she is lying on her back. I find I do not favour that position. It allows the woman to leave on articles of clothing and to feel as if she is just doing her duty. Also, it permits the husband to be selfish. If she closes her eyes and turns her head, he can assure himself she is properly submitting to his voracious needs, but he doesn’t give her the attention she deserves. It may be acceptable—preferable even—for some in the marriage bed, but not for us. While you might find that position enjoyable from time to time, and I will not refuse you if you do, it will merely be among the various ways we make love.”

 I tried not to be embarrassed; he had expressed a preference for me to be plain in these things, yet surely these blunt words were not normal discourse on the night a man has proposed to his future bride.

 “I shall take my seat, Miss Eyre, and then invite you to be seated on my lap facing me.”

 Now that the moment drew near, I found I was petrified.

 He stroked my cheekbone. “I will talk with you, Miss Eyre. Please do the same.”

 I nodded, but in truth I feared I would never utter a word.

 He removed his gentlemen’s garments, and I watched, unable to turn my head. He placed them alongside mine on the briars.

 When I saw him fully unclothed, I was tempted to flee.

 His penis was quite a protrusion, so large and thick. I had touched him previously, but seeing his complete form, I was astounded. “Sir, I am not quite sure what you intend to do with, with that, that—”

 “Penis, Miss Eyre. Manhood, if you prefer. Cock, if you’d like the vulgar. Touch it. Fear not. It’s nothing you have not done before.”

 “I have not done it when you were so spectacularly unclothed, sir.”

 “Spectacular is it?”

 “Do not allow such a big opinion of yourself, sir. Seeing you thus shall not make me swoon.”

 “You wound me mortally, the future Mrs Rochester. I fear now that I shall never be able perform and supply Thornfield with an heir.”

 Despite my brave words, I stood as if I had been rooted in spot. He took a few steps towards me and then closed his hand around mine.

 “Feel my response; notice how thick my cock grows as you touch it.”

 He drew my hand nearer his thickness. I reached out with a fair amount of hesitation and touched him, marvelling at the feel, silk and pulsating steel.

“And my testicles. Handle them gently until you learn more of what I want.”

 “You will teach me?” I touched his twin sacs and manipulated them. He moaned, but I thought it was not from pain.

 “You are an adept student, miss. Now gingerly tug down on them.”

 I looked to him for confirmation.

 He nodded.

 Encouraged, I held his testicles and gently pulled, feeling them descend.

 Mr Rochester moaned and he closed his hand around mine, stilling any further motion. “It has been a length of time since I have lain with a woman. I fear my forbearance nears an end. Tell me where my cock is going, Jane.”

 I met his eyes. In this moment he was masterful. He was going to have me.

 “In my quim, sir?”

 He curled one hand around mine and moved back and forth. “Feel how my body responds to you. Just as your quim gets damp when I stir you, my cock gets hard.”

 “The tip weeps, sir.”

“Indeed it does. Taste it.”

 I brushed the end of his manhood with a fingertip and brought it to my lips. “Bitter, sir. And slightly salty.”

 “Distasteful to you, my future wife?”

 “No, sir.”

 Until it eased, I had not realised he had a scowl between his brows. How important my opinion was to Mr Rochester!

 He reached for me and slid his free hand between my legs. After only a few moments, moisture returned. Desire assailed me.

 “I shall not enter you, miss, unless you are this slick. I will ease my entry as much as possible. You shall feel a sharp pain, I am told, but it shall be fleeting.”

 I nodded. Just his words were enough to make me fearful and dry the dampness.

 “Cease your wonderful ministrations, Janet, else I shall endure the humiliation of spilling my seed this very moment.”

 “Truly, sir?”

 “Indeed. The skilful touch of your hand or mouth can excite me that much.”

 Once again, I saw how the master could be mastered. As he instructed, I stopped.

 He surprised me by kneeling on his coat.

 “Come near me, Miss Eyre. Get yourself into the position I instructed earlier.”

 My heart had resumed its frantic beating. I knew not what he was about, and what I guessed, I couldn’t comprehend.

 “Nearer, if you please.”

 “This is unseemly, Mr Rochester.”

 “Do as you’re instructed, miss.”

 He always knew exactly the tone to take with me. This time, he’d been gentle, but firm. Cajoling would not have secured my compliance. A demand would have sent me scurrying for my clothes. He knew me so well it terrified me.

 I did as he said. How odd it was to see him thus and how horrifying that his beloved face was near my naked mound.

 “Remember to keep your hands in place, no matter how great the temptation to do otherwise.”

 I knew I should perish with mortification when he placed his strong hands on the insides of my thighs and spread my inner lips obscenely wide. And then he leant in towards me.

 He did the unthinkable. He used his mouth on me. With his tongue, he teased, kissing me intimately and tantalisingly.

 “Please stop thinking so ferociously,” he said, never looking up at me. “Allow yourself to feel.”

 My master set before me an impossible task!

 But he gave no quarter. Before I knew what was happening, that pleasure began to build as if it were an inferno.

 He touched my tiniest hole; he inserted his tongue inside my womanly opening.

 He ignited me, and even my body’s moisture could not extinguish the flame. He replaced his tongue with a finger, preparing the way for his ultimate penetration. As if from their own volition, my hips moved. I wordlessly sought more. He had asked the impossible when he asked me to keep my hands at the small of my back!

 “Sir!”

 “Nay, my greedy little miss. You shall be temporarily dissuaded.”

 If I hadn’t been so well schooled, I might have stamped my foot to express my displeasure when he pulled away.

 He stood. The entire area between my legs throbbed and ached. I wanted him and the man had to know it.

 I remained in place, anxious but now, too, curious. Fear had been replaced by a deep demand that I intuited only he could assuage.

 As I watched, Mr Rochester went to the briars and removed something from his trouser pocket. “This is a safe,” explained he. “It encompasses the penis so that my seed does not spill inside you.”

 He left me standing there, beneath the stars and clouds and moon as he sat on the bench and placed the safe—which appeared to be made from some sort of membrane—next to him. He stroked himself, and I saw him grow even harder.