Pleasure and Purpose

  "And this," Edward murmured, nipping. "This small pain is the sort you seek?"

  "Yes," she breathed, the word becoming a hiss of pleasure when his bite grew fiercer. He rolled them, kicking down the covers to give her space to move on top of him. Edward pulled her astraddle his waist, and his prick rose hard between them. He rocked her forward so her clit pressed against him.

  "What else have other patrons done for you? Have they bound your wrists?"

  "Yes." She shivered with delight at the memories.

  "Tell me of the time that gave you the most pleasure."

  She moaned at the question and the sensation, words for the moment failing her, and his hand gripped her hip hard and denied her the pleasure of motion.

  "I asked you a question, Handmaiden."

  "I've had many patrons, sir, some more demanding than others—" Her hips rocked forward a bit and his grip tightened again, making her gasp at the sting.

  "Answer my question."

  "She bound my wrists to the post of her bed and tore my gown from neck to hem." Nessa's body responded to the memory; her nipples peaked and her cunt grew slick. "And then she used a riding crop to mark my back."

  Edward's voice rasped and his thumb slid between them to stroke her. "Your patron was a woman? A woman beat you?" His voice was now like shreds of silk, or the soft leather fringes of a flogger, trailing over her skin. "And she gave you the memory you most treasure?"

  "Men are stronger," Nessa whispered, her body straining but staying still despite the nearly mindless urge to writhe. "But women, sir, can be cruder." Edward groaned. "And this brought you peace, this woman's cruelty?"

  "I found that beneath her touch I had the luxury of not thinking of anything else." Edward thrust his hips beneath her. "Put your hand on my cock while you tell me this." Eagerly, Nessa curled her fingers around the base of his prick, then slid upward to palm the perfect head. He let out a hiss as her fingertips caressed the small divot under his cock head, and the ridge around it. His thumb ceased circling her clit and instead pressed it in time to the beating of her heart.

  "It gave her comfort to be cruel. In the privacy of her bedroom she could lay vent to the anger she wasn't allowed to display in public as a well-bred gentlewoman." Edward's hand on her hip relaxed and he slid both hands to her buttocks, urging her with a touch to rock forward. She cried out again in relief at this permission and ground her clit against the base of his cock.

  "You gave her solace by letting her hurt you instead of those she wished to." Edward grunted when her hand closed over his cock head and squeezed before moving back down the shaft.

  "Yes."

  "And you gained solace from your grief. What else did she do?"

  "She beat me, one line below the next, so my entire back was aflame, but then she gave me a moment to rest. She pinched my nipples, one at a time, until I couldn't stay still, and she touched me—

  "Where?"

  "Between my legs," Nessa cried as Edward's fingers closed around her nipple.

  "With her hand?"

  Another pinch, this time to the other nipple, and her clit spasmed. "Aye, and—"

  "With her tongue?" His voice had grown rough as brambles. "By the Arrow, Stillness, she licked you? Tasted you?"

  "Yes, yes, yes," she moaned, her head falling back as he twisted her nipples, and her clit danced against her knuckles while she stroked him.

  Edward let out a strangled groan and rolled them both until he was atop her, pinning her hands above her head with one hand. "I want to taste you." He was between her legs before she had a chance to do anything but breathe. His tongue flicked her taut flesh only thrice before his lips fastened on the sensitive bud and suckled gently. The direct sensation after so many minutes of indirect stimulation forced an ecstatic shout from her throat. Her hips thrust as her clit leaped beneath his mouth. Edward slid first one finger, then another inside her, fucking her as he licked. Nessa moaned, spreading her legs wide and lifting upward to press herself to his kiss. Every muscle strained for release. His fingers twisted inside her, pushing just behind her pubic bone against a spot so sensitive her entire body jerked.

  Heat flooded her. She braced herself for the waves of climax, but though her clit hummed beneath his still-working tongue, she didn't feel the familiar explosion of orgasm. This was something entirely new, slow waves of pleasure that built and built rather than diminished.

  She'd been with patrons who lacked the skill to bring her to orgasm. Edward, however, was so skilled, so deftly talented with his lips, teeth, tongue, and fingers that he kept her on the edge without allowing her to spill over. All she could do was respond.

  "I will be the one who keeps your mind from anything else," he said. She was unable to do more than moan in answer.

  Edward fucked her with his fingers slowly, twisting, then withdrew just as slowly and pushed apart her legs. In the next moment she felt his hot breath on her again, lower, against her sensitive perineum. His tongue traced the small area, sliding up to caress her labia and down again.

  And then it happened. Always before, her body had reacted to sexual stimulation as it was now, by tensing and releasing in orgasm. Now, under Edward's attentions, she'd reached a point where she could no longer tense. No longer strain toward release. Instead, it was as though she had rocketed skyward and burst through the clouds to a clear night sky beyond. She floated, cradled. There was no more need to strain toward completion, no reason for her body to leap and jerk and vibrate. Everything had become . . .

  "Stillness," Edward murmured, and kissed her sex as easily and with as much tenderness as he'd kissed her mouth.

  The world disappeared for a moment, an hour, for eternity, she no longer could tell. She no longer cared. She was consumed.

  Her body had responded faster and more delightfully than that of any other woman he'd ever had. She was perfection. This pleased him immensely, her ability to find that place. Most women could climax if given the time and the right caresses. Few could reach such a perfect climax of mind and body simultaneously.

  After a moment he moved up her body to push his cock inside.

  Earlier he'd wanted to fuck her hard, in a frenzy, but her orgasm had satisfied his need for swift release. His cock would better benefit from slow satiation this time. He thrust, moving easily in her slick channel. He licked the sweet softness of her neck and throat. Nipped. Her gasp sent delight from the base of his balls to the tip of his cock, lodged deep within her. He moved a little faster.

  She raked his back with her nails, and he arched. His next thrust buried his prick into her all the way to the entrance of her womb, and she cried out. "You won't hurt me . . . take your pleasure harder, if it pleases you."

  Edward was lost. So many times he had taken a woman to his bed, only to deny himself the release he sought in order to be certain he didn't harm them. He spent hours worshipping their bodies to climax after climax, only to stunt his own by holding back. He'd finally given up, taking no one to bed because nobody could give him what he wanted.

  Until now. Stillness took what he gave and reacted to it. A woman could feign cries of pleasure and even train her body to replicate the internal spasms of orgasm, but no woman could fake the flush of real arousal that rose in her chest and throat. He didn't need light to see it, either. On Stillness he could feel it, the heat rising from her breasts and the throat he so loved to suckle. He fucked into her harder, reaching up a hand to grip the headboard, and she lifted her hips to match his motion.

  An image of the girl Cillian had beaten rose in his mind; Edward twitched and groaned. The girl turned her face to look over one welted shoulder. It was Stillness, the flogger had become a riding crop, and the hand wielding it was his own. He cried out, hoarse, as his orgasm burst through him at the moment he envisioned bringing down the crop upon her back.

  His body stiffened, his cock leaping and jerking. He felt each spurt of ejaculate as a separate, exquisite burst of ecstasy that made him shout out her na
me. Her hands went around his back and held him close to her. He nestled his face against her for another moment before rolling off.

  The sweat cooled after a bit, leaving him chilled, but before he could reach for the blanket she had already done so. She pulled it up over both of them and curled her body to his, offering him her warmth.

  And for the first time in many weeks, his mind gave in to his body's demands, and he slept without trouble until the morning light woke him.

  Chapter 4

  "Must you go to town today?" Nessa poured Edward a cup of tea and Waited at his feet for him to sip.

  He shook his head. "The prince is spending the day with his father today."

  "Is he very ill-behaved?" she asked, buttering a slice of simple-bread for him.

  "Cillian? Aye, he is, indeed. But then he's ever been so, as long as I've known him." She studied her patron as he drank the tea she'd prepared, learning as much as she could about him by the way he spoke and moved. Observation was a subtle art but necessary, and could only benefit from practice. This morning, she noticed, Edward was taking his time over tea. Not rushed. She wouldn't rush, either.

  "Perhaps he'll grow out of it," she offered. "Even the rowdiest lads do smooth their manners with time."

  Edward gave her an odd look. "He might, but I doubt it. He's been too long indulged to behave any differently, I fear."

  She nodded a little. "Then his parents have done him no good service."

  "No." Edward's mouth tightened for a moment. "No, I'd say they haven't. His mother died when he was a boy, and his father, I think, believed ponies and sweets would soothe tears better than a tender gesture or attention."

  "When he was a boy? But I thought... I thought he was a boy." At this, Edward let out a surprised chuckle. "Cillian is mine own age, Stillness, even if he occasionally throws a rather childish tantrum."

  "Your pardon, sir; by the way you spoke of having to look after him, I thought—"

  "No." A haunted look crossed his features. "He's not a lad. But apparently, he yet needs looking after."

  This conversation was causing her patron distress, and so she moved to another topic with ease. "Have you finished your tea?"

  "I have."

  He watched her tidy up the tea and simplebread, and when she was finished, he gestured to her. "Come here."

  She did, and Waited at his feet again, the back of one hand inside the palm of the other. She smiled as he looked at her, though he wasn't smiling at her. His hand reached out to touch the braid hanging over her shoulder.

  "Fetch me the book on my desk."

  She did without hesitating, without even thinking of why he'd asked her to do it. When she handed it to him, he didn't take it.

  "Put it back."

  Again, she did as he'd said, her obedience ingrained and the tasks he asked of her so simple as not to require thought. When she returned to him, she noted the gleam in his eyes. It flared brighter when she again Waited at his feet.

  "Stillness," Edward said after a moment in which she sat silent at his feet. "Would you do anything I asked you? Without question?"

  "Within reason. Though it's my goal that you need not ask, of course: that all you need be brought to you before you need it."

  "How can you possibly expect to do that?" Her answer seemed to confound him, but she'd been asked it before and had a ready answer.

  "Practice."

  Edward shifted in his chair. Nessa tilted her head, watching him.

  "I thought you understood this," she said when he didn't speak for some moments. "It was part of the contract."

  "Aye, but seeing the evidence of it is vastly different than merely reading about it on a parchment."

  Nessa smiled. "The Mothers-in-Service do their best to assign us to those we're best suited to help, you know. That I was assigned to you means they believed I was best suited for your needs. I'm your comfort, your grace. I'm what you need before you know you need it. I'm here for you."

  His reaction wasn't unusual, but it moved her all the same when he let out a sigh and covered his eyes with his hand for a moment. Then he reached for her hand. His thumb traced an interlocking pattern of circles on her palm. "Have you ever been assigned a patron you despised?"

  "Only one." She felt the shadows cross her expression at the answer, but could do no less than be truthful.

  "But you served him, anyway?"

  "Of course I did."

  Her patron tugged her gently to sit next to him, though the chair was scarcely large enough for the two of them. "Did you succeed?"

  "No. There was naught I could do to satisfy him, nor to bring him solace."

  "Is that why you despised him?"

  Shocked, she turned in the seat to look at him. "No! Of course not!"

  "Is it because you despised him that you were unable to succeed, then?" The answer to this question didn't rise so readily to her tongue. Nessa thought on it for a silent moment before answering. "No. Even if I had cared for him, I wouldn't have been able to change who he was. An embittered, violent man who thought the tragedy of his past entitled him the use of his fists."

  His thumb paused in its circling. "He hit you?"

  "Yes."

  "His abuse was ill-guided and purely selfish," he said, echoing what she had earlier told him.

  "It was." Even now, the memory made her cheeks flush. Vander Decamden had blacked her eye and bloodied her nose before she'd ,' managed to fend him off with a kick to his groin. She'd left the day • after, with the Order's blessing.

  "A man who would use his hand upon a woman—"

  "No, sir," she interrupted gently. "A man who would use his fists upon a woman in anger is not the same as one who brings her pleasure with his touch," Edward looked at the hand he'd been stroking. His thumb pressed down, hard, leaving a red mark that quickly faded to white. "The difference is in the intent." She said nothing, letting him be the one to lead. She could only offer him what he must be willing to take. She studied him, noting the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed, the way his tongue slid along his lips as he thought. The gleam of firelight on his skin.

  "You like . . . you enjoy . . ." he said hoarsely, hesitating, "being bound."

  "Sometimes." Nessa leaned closer to whisper her answer, her own breath coming a bit faster at the thought.

  His thumb had begun its pattern on her skin again, and when he looked at her, Nessa's breath caught at the look in his eyes.

  "Fetch me that length of ribbon from my desk. The one I took from 'round the package delivered yesterday."

  She handed him the slippery length of ribbon within moments. Edward ran the material between his fingers as though testing it for strength or in admiration of its construction, she couldn't tell. When at last he held it up, the smooth coils fell from his fingertips to curl in his palm.

  "Hold out your wrists."

  She did. Edward took the ribbon and bound them, loosely, tucking the ribbon's edge but not tying it. He ran a finger along the ribbon, then the skin of her hand and wrist.

  "You may go about your business."

  "Sir?" Nessa hesitated, uncertain what he expected of her. Edward smiled. "So long as that ribbon stays in its place, you shall be kept in my good graces. Should it fall, I will be displeased."

  There were two reasons why this statement sent a thrill through her. The selfish one was that being so commanded called to that part inside her that craved the discipline of concentration. The unselfish one was because this meant he was, at last, allowing himself to take from her what she could give.

  "If it pleases you."

  "We'll see if it does or doesn't, won't we?"

  Managing with bound wrists was no hardship, but keeping the ribbon round them was. He watched her carefully as she made and served tea and cleaned up after. As she mended a tear in his trouser hem and pressed a cravat. The ribbon grew looser and looser, allowing her greater range of motion, but never falling off.

  "Stillness," Edward said at last.
"Come fetch me this book." He pointed to a volume high on the shelf, higher even than his head.

  "The green book?"

  Aye.

  This close, she could smell him, something spicy and masculine. A faint odor of herb clung to his clothes, and under it the scent of the soap he favored. The tea she'd made him added a hint of seductive warmth. She reached for the book, standing on her tiptoes to do so, knowing before she even tried there was no way she could reach. Her fingers brushed the edge of the shelf three lower than the one on which the volume he wanted sat. And the ribbon, at last, fell away.

  "I set you a near impossible task, or so I meant it to be," Edward murmured. "And yet, not until I forced your hand did you fail at it."

  She didn't bend to pick up the ribbon at her feet. "Did you so wish me to fail?" Edward reached to run a hand over her hair, catching the tie at the bottom of her braid and pulling it free. "Aye. I believe I did."

  She stayed still as his fingers combed her hair free over her shoulders. "Why?" He put a hand beneath her chin, tilting her face to look into his. "Because then I could have reason to be displeased, and yet I have found that even in failing me you have pleased me. I'm quite discomfited."

  Nessa smiled. "So your purpose was served, after all? You're distressed?"

  "Immensely." He moved closer, lowering his mouth to hers but not kissing her. He took her hand and put it to his groin, against his heated hardness. His fingers made hers stroke up and down through his trousers. His lips brushed hers, and still, he didn't kiss her.

  "Take off your gown," Edward said, voice rough. "I want to see you. The way his breath gasped in when she obeyed was one of the loveliest sounds she'd ever heard. He stroked himself while he watched her, and when she stood naked before him, he pushed his trousers down over his hips.