The Pearl (The Godwicks #3) - Tiffany Reisz Page 0,19

asked.

“I…don’t know if I can answer that question.”

“I think you can. I think you don’t want to. Embarrassed you liked it so much?”

“No, it’s not that.”

“Then what is it?”

“Like you said. This is just sex for you. And it’s just about getting our painting back for me. Let’s not get personal, all right?”

If she was going to shut down his attempts to get her to open up, he would shut down hers just as swiftly, just as hard.

“Of course. We’ll have very nice impersonal sex in front of a mirror tonight. And you’ll hate every second of it, won’t you?” She laughed softly, teasingly.

She brushed her lips lightly over his, and a shiver of pleasure passed through his body. “Do you hate this?”

She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him again, kissed him with hunger, real hunger. He wanted to return the kiss. He wanted to push her away. But more than anything he wanted to be punished and humbled, and if this is how the gods saw fit to punish and humble him, who was he to question their judgement?

He put his arms around her waist and pressed his mouth to hers. She opened her lips and tilted her head back, giving him silent permission to kiss her all he could.

She tasted like sugar and whisky and one kiss alone would get him drunk on her. The more he tasted her, the more he wanted. He pulled her tighter against him, felt her breasts pressed against his chest, her back arching and her arms wound round his shoulders. He grew hard, painfully hard. His cock throbbed and he wanted to shift his hips away from her so she wouldn’t feel it, but it was too late... She pressed her hips into his, and he flinched with pleasure, even with all their clothes between them.

Her cheeks were bright pink, her soft lips swollen. She ran her hand from his shoulder to his chest, to his stomach and then cupped him between the thighs, pressing her palm gently but firmly onto his erection.

“Better,” she said.

Her fingertips found the head under his clothes, and she lightly traced along the tender foreskin. His breath quickened. He closed his eyes.

“No.” She snapped her fingers in his face. “Look at me. Watch. You aren’t allowed to close your eyes and pretend this isn’t happening. It is. It’s happening. You chose this.”

Arthur opened his eyes and looked, watching her hand touch him. He breathed in and smelled again the scent of her, which had an electric current in it. The scent of a storm.

He had always loved storms. He breathed her in again, wanting more of her.

The feeling must have been mutual because she reached for his belt and unbuckled it. She slipped her hand into his pants and took his penis out and held it in her palm.

“There we are,” she said. “It’s really a very beautiful cock you have, Brat.”

“Penises are the least attractive part of any human being’s body,” he protested.

“Beauty is in the eye of the beholder. If I say it’s beautiful, it’s beautiful. Your Wendy was a lucky girl, wasn’t she?”

“She didn’t think so.”

“Then she was a fool.”

“Sometimes I can’t tell if you hate me or you’re starting to like me,” Arthur said.

“Neither can I,” Regan said and wrapped her entire hand around him again and held him.

A sound came out of his throat, half gasp, half sigh.

“Good Brat,” she said. “I like that you like being treated like a whore.” She held him in her hand a little firmer. “Even if you won’t admit it.”

She stroked him again, base to tip then around the head and back down. Her hand was soft and her grip strong. His head fell back. He closed his eyes.

“What did I say about that?” Regan demanded. “Eyes open. Here. Look above the fireplace.”

She pointed to the painting. “Berthe Morisot,” she said. “The Psyche Mirror. That’s what they used to call cheval mirrors, because it could show you your whole self. And there she is, seeing herself and liking what she sees. You are going to see yourself tonight. You understand?”

“No.”

“You will. Stand in front of the mirror. Undress,” she said. “All the way.”

“Do I have to?”

She gave him a look and that look answered the question so that no further words were necessary.

He didn’t want to do it. He knew people found him attractive. He was twenty-one and had been doing hard military workouts for two years. Yes, he was in good shape