“You're going to...what?” I asked.
I held on to his arm as he escorted me home from school.
“Make you come,” he replied.
I glanced left and right, but there was no one about, at least no one close enough to hear our illicit conversation.
“I don't know what you mean.”
He arched a brow. “You've never touched yourself before?”
“Where?” I glanced up at him.
“Your pussy. Have you ever played with your pussy?”
The December air was bitterly cold, but Garrett's words were warming me.
I shook my head. “How do I do that?”
“I won't tell you now. It will be a treat for me to see you come the first time.”
***
“Yes, Julia. So good.” A guttural sound escaped his throat as I felt him swell inside of my mouth. His body stiffened beneath me as hot liquid landed on my tongue and slid down my throat.
“All of it love, just keep swallowing,” he groaned.
I had no idea what to expect, nor how much, and his seed was copious. Pulse after pulse of it coated the inside of my mouth and I had no choice but to do as he said and continue to swallow it all. His fingers gripped my scalp tightly as he succumbed to his release. I’d done this to him. I’d made him come, as he'd called it. Not some whore from the brothel, not some experienced widow he might have bedded in the past to slake his manly needs. Me, the sheltered virgin. His wife. It might have been his honor to maintain my virtue as we'd courted, but now, now I wanted to be on my knees before him with his cock in my mouth, swallowing his thick seed. I wanted to be the experienced whore. For him and only him.
When the pulses ceased, I looked up at Garrett. His eyes were closed and he was breathing hard. I slipped off his cock and used the back of my hand to wipe my mouth, removing the remnants of his release from my lips. Waiting quietly, I let him recover and I assessed my own body. I was not in the least bit cold; in fact, I was overheated in my wool dress. My nipples were tight peaks against my corset and between my legs, I was very wet and achy. My entire body ached—no, craved—what only Garrett would show me. I might be an innocent, but that didn't mean I was mild. I, too, had been waiting for just this moment when all my curiosity, all my tampered desire, could come to the fore.
I came up off my knees and stood once again between his knees. I didn't wait for Garrett to recover to work the buttons of my dress free, one at a time. As I stood, his eyes opened and he watched me. His eyes were impossibly dark, almost black. His cheeks were flushed and while he'd found his release, I knew that he was not finished. Good, for I had need of him. I pushed the fabric off my shoulders and down my arms, shimmying my hips so the dress slid down to the floor.
While Garrett didn't wear anything beneath his clothing, I did. “You're my Christmas present.” He pushed off his hands and sat upright, my breasts directly in line with his face. “I look forward to unwrapping you.”
“I got you a new belt,” I said, remembering it was packed in with my clothing that had been placed by the front door of the schoolteacher's house. With Miss Simpson moving in, I had no doubt my belongings were outside buried beneath several inches of snow.
Garrett slowly shook his head. “While that is a very nice present, you are gifting me with something so much greater.”
I frowned in confusion.
“Your gift is between your luscious thighs, somewhere beneath all of this petticoat and stockings.”
“You...you can perform again so readily?”
I glanced down at his cock, which was now once again fully hard. It had softened slightly within my mouth, but that had been a temporary state. Was it always hard like this? How could the man walk, let alone sit a horse with that hard rod between his legs?
“With you before me? Absolutely. You do not object to me removing your clothes?”
The idea of Garrett's big hands on me had me shaking my head. While I appreciated his gentlemanly question, I was beyond being offended. “Only if you do not hurry.”
With fumbling fingers, we both worked at my undergarments. As I unhooked my corset before tossing it behind me, Garrett undid the strings of my petticoat, then my drawers. “Step out. Now, put your foot here,” he directed, patting his thigh.
He removed my boot and then pulled at the tiny ribbon at the top of my stockings. With slower motions, he slid the stocking down my leg and dropped it onto the floor. I put my foot down. When patted his other thigh, I let him do the same with the other leg, but instead of releasing me, he grasped my bare ankle firmly.
I stood before him in just my shift and with my leg up. The soft cotton rode high on my thigh. Garrett's eyes raked over my body, from my pale shoulders to the upper swells of my breasts not covered by my shift, then lower still. The hand at my ankle slid along my calf, then over my thigh to push the chemise up further. His jaw clenched tightly. I knew he could see me there. Inside, I clenched down and I felt a pulse of some dark and delicious heat I never knew before.
I held my breath in anxious anticipation of what Garrett would do. His hand was close, so very close to touching me there and I shifted my hips with the hopes of even just his fingertips grazing me. Taking the hem of my shift, I lifted it up, just enough for him to truly see me.