Glass Slipper (11 page)

“The weather is so pleasant, Joséphine,” Julien said, the look on his face telling her that he was very much enjoying her torture. “And my horse is still saddled. I thought it would be a fine day for a ride.”

“A ride?” Her jaw dropped. Just the motion of standing had nearly forced her to climax. If she tried to stay in the saddle, she would come until she passed out from the pleasure of it.

“Go on, get changed into your riding habit.” He waited until she had taken a few torturous steps and called, “Oh, and leave my gift where it is. And don’t finish anything I started.”

By the time she had made it to her room, she was so aroused that every step was agony. The stairs, in particular, had been a cruel obstacle. It took all her concentration not to come, her body working against her all the while she dressed herself and tied her hair back in a braid. If she didn’t move, if she didn’t do anything but sit very still, she might…

Oh, she couldn’t fool herself. She would likely climax the moment he laid a hand on her to help her into the saddle. His touch, his scent, everything about him seemed designed to arouse her. She wanted more of him, and when she got it, she wanted more still.

She wished she had never made him promise to leave her virtue intact. Though he would likely be happy to be rid of her once she was married off to the prince, she doubted she would feel for Philipe anything close to what she felt for Julien. She wanted to have him always, even if only in her memory.

Her reflection in the looking glass showed a single tear rolling down her cheek, and she swiped it away. Well, such morose thoughts certainly cured her of her desire, pearls or no pearls. She hurried down the stairs, determined to show a brave face. Once she saw Julien waiting for her, all thoughts of putting on false cheer fled. She did not need to pretend to be happy when she was with him. She truly was.

* * * *

Her happiness with him became irritation as she clung miserably to the pommel, gritting her teeth as another intense wave of pleasure gripped her. A low moan slipped from her lips. Riding side saddle required hooking her thigh around the pommel, and every bump and jostle caused her to squeeze her legs tighter together to retain her seat. The same motion caused darts of sensation to shoot through her cunt, growing in urgency until she was sure she would die if he didn’t grant her release. “Please, Julien.”

He continued gazing out at the scenery, a serene expression on his face. “Not yet, Joséphine.”

She gritted her teeth. The bastard! To think she had shed a single tear for him.

“See that ridge up ahead?” He nodded toward the spot he indicated. “We’ll stop there. There’s some lovely shade.”

There could have been blistering sun and flies, and she would have been just as grateful. “Finally!”

“We could canter up there, if you’d like,” he suggested.

“No!” She wasn’t sure she could remain in control of her horse if she did succumb.

“I would have thought you would have jumped at the chance.” He cocked his head. “Jumping, there’s something we could try.”

Through clenched teeth she hissed, “Someone has commanded that I stave off my satisfaction.”

“What a wicked man he must be. You mustn’t judge him too harshly.” Urging his horse into a brisk trot, he left Joséphine no choice but to follow suit.

She groaned with each bounce of her bottom against the saddle and gripped the reins tight in her fist until she was sure that her leather riding gloves would crack at the knuckles.

“I’ll know if you come,” Julien warned cheerfully. “You’re always so wet after you come. And tight. I can barely get my finger inside after.”

She closed her eyes for a moment, trying desperately to rid her mind of his words. There was no doubt he knew exactly the effect they were having on her.

“And if you disobey me, well…” he sighed heavily for great effect. “I suppose there will have to be a punishment.”

Normally, she loved the games Julien thought up for them to play. Today, however, the joke had worn thin. She fought hard against the building pressure inside of her, tried desperately to set her mind on anything else. But the constant stimulation proved to be too much. She rocked against the saddle and held on tight as her climax slammed into her like waves onto a shore. As quickly as it passed, another gripped her, and she cried out.

They had reached the ridge, and Julien drew up beside her to take the reins from her helpless hands. The horses walked placidly to a stop, and Julien lifted Joséphine from the saddle. She collapsed against him, limp and trembling, and didn’t care that she wasn’t some graceful feather of a woman. Julien would be able to carry her.

He stopped at the base of a gnarled oak tree and sat on the ground, in the space between two roots, and Joséphine sat up in his lap. His cock was hard and eager beneath his clothes; at the least the ride had been torment for both of them.

With a hand caressing her neck underneath her golden hair and another hand at the small of her back, he gently urged her lie across his lap, face down. She supported herself on her forearms on the grass and shivered in anticipation as he lifted her skirts. The cool air struck her wet, intimate flesh and she whimpered. His fingers slid over her bottom, slipping toward her puffy sex, toward the pearls that had given her such delicious torture all day. It would feel so good when he removed them, slowly, teasing her to another climax. His hand lifted, prolonging the suspense. Perhaps he would make her come with his mouth first.

A stinging slap landed on her bottom, surprising her so that a startled cry escaped her lips. “Julien, what are you doing?”

“I warned you,” he said with a chuckle. “There would be a punishment.”

Another slap. Joséphine’s face flamed with indignation. “Let me up! I am not a child!”

“Not a child, but you disobeyed, didn’t you?” He kissed the burning spot on her rump, then landed another slap.

“I cannot believe you!” She tried to wiggle away, but his forearm at the small of her back held her in place, and her position, with her bottom raised up on Julien’s lap and her legs resting on the gnarled root beside them, gave her no leverage. His broad, warm palm gently caressed her burning flesh, slipping into the cleft between her cheeks and lower, to finger the pearls that hung, dripping with her juices, from her cunt.

“Yes,” she urged on a hiss, but all she received was another smack on the bottom.

“You’re very wet.” He rubbed his fingers against her cleft, then touched them to her burning skin, spreading her cream in a lazy circle. “Have you been disobeying me all day?”

Joséphine ground her sex against his knee, but the angle was wrong and offered her no satisfaction. Another slap pulled a startled moan from her throat.

“Why should you have pleasure now?” he asked, dipping his finger just past the entrance of her cunt. The pearls left him precious little room there, and the delicious stretch was almost too much to bear. “What have you done to deserve it?”

She bit her lip. She couldn’t think of a reason, though she desperately wanted to. “I’ve wanted it all day.”

“Have you?” Another smack, and she shuddered. Julien chuckled. “Wanting something isn’t the same as deserving it. How do I know you haven’t been coming all day? Sitting at the table during Madame Brujon’s lessons, squeezing your thighs together? Did you come before our ride, Joséphine?”

“I didn’t,” she swore desperately.

“But you wanted to?” He rolled the captive string of beads between his finger, and they rotated against her hard nub. “You wanted to touch yourself, to bring yourself relief.”

“Oh, yes,” she moaned, trying to push herself against his hand. She was rewarded for her efforts with another slap. Her bottom tingled, and the thought of what she must look like, lying exposed across his lap, her white skin marred with red handprints, was strangely exciting.

“Are you enjoying this?” he asked, feigning astonishment. He spanked her again. “A good girl would not enjoy her punishment.”

“Perhaps I’m not a good girl, then,” she groaned. “Please, Julien.”

“Please? When you’ve already admitted you don’t deserve it.” His wide hands gripped her waist and he flipped her over, her legs spread across his lap. “Very well.”

He unfastened the pearls from the lace of her corset and drew them slowly down. Now that they were no longer pressed against her, the inescapable pleasure abated somewhat. She mewled her disappointment.

“Never fear,” he whispered, stroking between her petals with a broad fingertip. I won’t leave you unsatisfied.”

“You did.” She pouted at him. “All day.”

“Allow me to make up for my most grievous offense.” He grasped the end of the string of pearls and pulled. Joséphine gasped as the length twisted and whirled inside of her. He pulled slowly, letting one bead then another slip from her body, giving her time to feel each slide and movement inside of her.

Her legs trembled, and she slumped back, letting her head rest on the soft grass as he played over her with his nimble fingers. This time, her release did not overcome her violently. It swept through her like a wildfire, tearing through every limb, every crevice of her body, until she lay completely sated in his lap.

He gave her a moment, then helped her to sit up. He slipped the string of pearls into his coat pocket.

“I thought those were a gift for me,” she said with a weak smile. It would be a miracle if she could stumble back to the horse.

He grinned at her. “They were. Did you enjoy them?”

She tore up a clump of grass and tossed it at him, laughing. “You’re a wicked man, Julien.”

“That I am.” He patted the outside of his coat, over where the pearls rested next to his heart. “I’ll keep these as a memento of our time together.”

She chewed her lip. With a simple sentence, it felt as though the entire, wonderful day had been ruined. “What was the lesson?”

“Hmm?” He seemed to remember then. “Oh yes. The lesson was, too much of anything can become unpleasant. I wanted to prepare you. While our time together has been immensely pleasurable, if we tarry here much longer, we’ll grow tired of each other. You’ve studied well, and I believe it is time to put those lessons to practical application. We will leave for court in the morning.”

All the breath escaped her lungs. “So soon?”

He reached out and idly plucked a violet from the grass. With the same hand, he pushed a few wayward strands of hair behind her ear and tucked the flower among them. “Soon? The summer is nearly over.”

“I do not recall ever establishing a time for departure. What does the summer have to do with it?” She was not ready to meet the prince. Not so soon. Not when it meant…

No, she would not let herself even begin those thoughts. She had always known that their time together would be a brief stepping stone to a greater purpose. So why did her chest suddenly ache, and her eyes sting with tears?

“Come on, Brujon will let our supper get cold.”

Her feet made of lead and her heart ten times heavier, Joséphine followed him back to the horses.

Chapter Thirteen

Supper was a much quieter affair than usual, Julien noted as he watched Joséphine pick glumly over her food. He said nothing. He would have to get used to quiet suppers again. It was easy to get used to anything, if you tolerated it long enough.

He did not wish to tolerate Joséphine’s absence, any more than he wished to tolerate having his fingernails pulled out. He did not look forward to the nights he would spend alone, thinking of Philipe’s hands on her, her sighs of pleasure, her quickly dwindling memories of him.