Saffina's Season by Flora Dain

a hot, lingering kiss.
    “Where did you go? Tell me.”
    “No.”
    Now I felt him slide his hand deep between my legs, where signs of my shame were pooling already.
    “Outrageous. My wife sees to herself while I’m forced to wait?”
    His hand fell again.
    “And she seeks the company of others without telling me why?”
    The laugh in his voice made me giggle again, elated now that his game was well underway. Beneath me I felt his breeches swell further, his cockstand jutting painfully, dangerously close to my pulsing center and likely to bring me off if he did this much longer.
    “You’ve every right to ask, sir, and I’ve every right to stay silent,” I announced primly.
    His hand landed again, harder this time. My loud squeal brought on a barrage of blows on my burning backside that left me weeping and joyful at the same time.
    “Kneel.”
    His command filled me with dread. As I slid to my knees between his thighs, I glanced up, nervous now. Usually this was a high point in our game, when we shared a moment so intimate I wondered how I could ever be so happy.
    Now his tone surprised me. He sounded truly angry.
    “Seriously, you refuse to tell me, Saffina?”
    I pouted, playful but firm. “Yes, my lord. I refuse to tell you.”
    For a second, I thought I’d gone too far. The flicker of pain in his eyes was a shock.
    Whatever ails him?
    But the pain lasted barely a second. It quickly turned to ice. As he freed himself, he thrust his twitching monster into my face with none of his usual caresses, no loving murmur.
    “Suck.”
    It was not an invitation, but a command. His edgy manner made me tremble.
    “Jacquard?” My soft whisper seemed muffled down here in the warmth of his crotch.
    Above me his gaze stayed cold, the glint in his eyes harder now.
    “I’m waiting.”
    I rarely needed a prompt. Now I leaned up and took his cock deeply into my mouth, working it with generous sweeps of my tongue, tasting hungrily to get it wet then pushing low along it to get it even stiffer. Normally this came so easily that he joked I’d finish him in half the time it took him to free it.
    But today my throat felt tight. I found it an effort to swallow. He stroked my face for a few moments as I struggled to reach his root. Then he pushed me away.
    Horrified, I gazed up at him with tears in my eyes.
    “Forgive me, my lord,” I whispered. “I seem to have— I mean, I find it hard to—”
    “So I see. Come up here.” With a frown, he lifted me onto his lap and clasped his hands loosely behind my waist. “You seem anxious. You feel guilty, perhaps? You’re so primed with your own pleasure you’ve lost interest in mine? For the last time, tell me where you went today. Your maid and your coachman were frantic. Pérot, your bodyguard, was distraught.” His eyes glittered, his jaw set and grim. “You plan to make a habit of this?”
    Still jittery from my spanking, I bit back dismay. My plans for his gift were barely begun and the secret was almost out? I decided on a partial confession.
    “Do I have to answer, Jacquard? You think me so very wicked, then?” I ran my hand down his face, hoping my light touch might soften his heart. But he held firm.
    “You’re hiding something. I’ve no wish to make trouble between us, my love, but I have to know.”
    I swallowed, infuriated deep down but desperate not to show it. “Then I’ll tell you, since I must. I’m trying to arrange a surprise for your birthday. And that’s all I’m saying, Leather Room or no.” I kissed him lightly, running my tongue along his lower lip. “And you’ve no right to ask any more, sir. I may have to go out several times to complete the arrangement.”
    I expected him to throw back his head and laugh, or at least arch a cynical eyebrow at this intriguing news and pump me for more. To my dismay he did neither. His frown deepened as a strange look crossed his face.
    “My birthday ? Why?”
    I laughed, not from mirth but to cover my confusion.