Then I begin to move my thumb in and out of her mouth, a little forward, a little back. And then again. It’s more than fucking her. It’s teaching her.

Showing her the rhythm my cock will use.

I push my thumb farther back, mostly because I want to see her gag. I want to see what happens when she’s pushed beyond her limit. It’s beautiful. And so wrong of me. I’m not a good man. She should not be kneeling in my office, but I’m not going to make her leave. Tears form at the corners of her eyes and dance a path down her cheeks.

“I made you come,” I murmur, my thumb still on her tongue. “I made you feel good that night. Do you want to make me feel good, too?”

She nods, and the sweet sincerity in her eyes almost unmans me. What a delicious little morsel. How she escaped Houston with this much innocence astounds me. It’s not that she hasn’t seen darkness, because I know she has. Her records are proof of that.

It’s that it hasn’t touched her, marked her, changed her.

Part of me is relieved that I might not change her, either. That she will escape this house unscathed by my secrets. But part of me wants to mark her.

I pull my thumb out and tap it against her lips. “My cock will be bigger than this. Are you ready? I want you to say, Yes, Mr. Rochester.”

Her lips move against my thumb in a kiss as she forms the words. “Yes, Mr. Rochester.”

I open my pants. My cock springs out, heavy and thick for her. She lets out this adorable little gasp. No wonder men like virgins. I can’t remember ever admiring a lack of experience. I thought it would be better if a woman knew how to take me deep, if she knew how to work her tongue, but seeing Jane’s eyes wide makes me ten feet tall.

I fist myself and stroke a couple times. I’m giving her time to get used to the idea. That’s what I tell myself, but in reality I’m giving her time to run away.

She’s far too innocent for what I want to do to her. Even if she acts tough, even if she looks seductive as hell on her knees, she’s soft inside.

My hand speeds up. Maybe I can just come on her face. Maybe that will somehow defile her less than making her suck me. Except she leans forward. A swipe of her tongue across my cock makes me suck in a breath. “Jesus.”

She does it again, and my hips buck toward her.

“Is this right?” she asks, and fuck me, her tone is pure feminine wisdom. She may not be experienced, but she knows exactly what she’s doing to me.