The Blind Mistress & Her Mates

Bittersweet Mistakes

His tongue parted her lips, sliding into the warmth of her mouth. They kissed as if starved, her tongue moving against his in desperation as the hunger gnawed inside of her. She tried not to let her thoughts run wild, but all that she could think of was the man who held her in his arms—the same one who'd held her sister. For some reason, she'd always wondered why her sister had left her for a man.

Tonight, she was going to find out.

What positions had he put her sister in? How close to the edge could he take her?

As his right grip tightened around her hips, his left hand briskly moved to tug at her plunging neckline. She gasped when he tore the fabric right off her chest, leaving one of her breasts exposed.

Thank heavens it was dark, unless he would have been able to tell how red her face had turned from embarrassment.

He finally broke their kiss, and she was panting for air as he flipped her over on the bed to lie on her back. Was he always so rough with her sister? She wondered.

"Grace, your body..." She heard him gulp as he stared down at her in the dark. She couldn't tell that the moonlight was casting its silver glow on half of her body, so she could have sworn that he'd begun to suspect that she wasn't Grace.

"Gorgeous," he spoke again, burying his face between her breasts. She was two sizes bigger than her sister, so it was surprising that he could have mistaken her for Grace, but she squirmed slightly under his hot breath as he sucked a n****e into his mouth—his hand kneading the other.

He switched between his teeth and tongue at intervals, and her back arched in submission.

'This man...' the words rang in her head when his knee slid upward, parting her thighs to press against her throbbing core. Her eyes widened at the realization that she was bare down there.

The man on top of her didn't seem to mind as he switched between both her breasts, his hands supporting each as he tried to fit their mass into his mouth—but she was more endowed than that.

Her fingers found his hair, combing through them gently as they brushed across his scalp. His lips softly trailed down her stomach, placing a lingering kiss on her n****e before he finally reached her core.

Her heart raced in her chest at the thought of what might come next, but he didn't let her reverie sink in as he gripped both her thighs, lifting her legs to rest on his shoulder.

A heavy gulp lingered in her throat. Being blind was a two-edged sword; in exchange for her sight, she gained a heightened sense of other feelings.

His nose brushed her knee when he kissed the leg on his shoulder, but nothing braced her for what was about to happen when he leaned closer.

In a breath, his hardness pushed inside her, gaining a muffled whimper from her lips. The pain was shocking as he'd gone in all at once, but it quickly faded as he pressed himself deeper. She bit her lips as a few teardrops rolled down her cheeks—tears of joy. For some reason, she was glad she'd lost herself to the same man who'd taken her sister.

The pain gradually subsided when his hips began to grind slowly against her as if beckoning her insides to adjust to his mass. He was just so big and tight—her muscles ached for release, and her p***y pulsed with desire.

But then, he pushed in deeper, and her back arched in unison.

"Grace...you're so tight..." he groaned with a raspy tone, leaning down further till her knees touched her shoulders. "I'd like to start moving now", he whispered, and a chill ran through her spine when his lips grazed her earlobes.

His hips began to move slowly at first, and her fingers gripped the sheet for support, but gradually, his slow thrusts grew faster until the sounds of their clapping bodies echoed throughout the bedroom.

'Ohh fuck...' her fingers gripped the sheets as uncontrollable sounds escaped her lips. She couldn't even tell if she was moaning the right way, but the feeling of this man inside her was heavenly.

When he let go of her left leg to kiss her—tongue and teeth in the mix as he devoured her lips, her hand instinctively found its way to his hair, gripping and holding on for dear life.

During the kiss, his pace had morphed into a patterned deep thrust, as if counting the seconds inside her while hitting her G-spot on every dive. Her back arched off the bed as they continued their rhythm, her fingers trailed down to his broad shoulders, nails digging into his skin. She kissed back with all her might, it felt so right.

Oh lord, this man was everything she never knew she needed. She could feel her walls clench and spread whenever he moved within her, and her body began to tremble uncontrollably.

"Grace, say my name..." he whispered against her lips, and for a second, she regained part of her senses. Oh, how she wished he could call her name instead of hers; she wanted to correct him—but she wasn't stupid enough to do so.

Instead, she let out a loud moan, sliding her fingers down his chest to plead for more.

He seemed to take the hint as his pace increased. He finally let go of her second leg, pulling her upward without breaking their enjoined body parts. It took a little shuffle to reach the edge of the bed before he spoke again. "You can move now."

She froze momentarily, taken aback by the order. She wasn't sure how to move—she wasn't even sure if she could move from how closely contracted her insides felt. But the situation was too far gone to break her cover now.

Her knees made contact with the mattress as she knelt halfway. But when she tried going back down, it dawned on her. 'I can't move!'

"Grace? Are you alright?" his tone was soft as his hands moved to cup her cheek. She nodded, but he'd already felt the tears on her cheeks. "Maybe we shouldn't—" He trailed off when her lips came down on his. There was no way she was about to let him finish his sentence. She'd promised her sister to endure till he reached his peak.

Ignoring how badly her body was trembling, she began to move slowly. His huge palms found her hips, assisting her feebly teasing motion to something they could both enjoy.

"Nghh~" the sound escaped her lips when he slammed his hardness even deeper while she was still on top. She nipped at his bottom lip to keep herself from speaking, and her hardened n*****s ached, pleading for more attention.

As her supple breasts continued to bounce in rhythm with his c**k, he pulled her against his strong chest as their lips remained connected. She gasped at the feel of his erection growing harder inside her, his hands had moved now; one holding her upper back and the other wrapped firmly around her ass to keep her in place while he rowed his hips.

He was doing most of the work now as her legs had begun to give in to the weakness. She felt her consciousness fade slowly as he continued to ride her throbbing core.

Her eyes fluttered shut as climax threatened to rip her apart when he growled in warning, "I'm coming," as he began to rock his hips into her body even faster. Her insides clenched in release, back arching off the bed as fingernails dug into the skin of his shoulders to keep him from breaking away. "Grace?!" His eyes widened as she refused to allow him to pull out.

Then, with one final thrust, he exploded, spilling himself inside her.

A triumphant smile formed at her lips, and she collapsed onto his shoulder from exhaustion. He was breathing hard, sweat running down his chest and over his abdomen. So was she.

But what she couldn't tell before her consciousness faded was the deep frown across his face and the words he mumbled right after.

***

"Laura!" The door shot open, startling her out of her short-lived sleep. She quickly sat up in bed at the call of her sister, unable to tell apart night from day. A groan escaped her lips as a cold breeze pushed past her n*****s, reminding her that she was half-naked.

"My lady, please don't move so carelessly!" Desmonda scolded her mistress in a whisper.

Laura hastily searched the bed for the sheets until the realization that Logan wasn't in bed with her sank in. "Is it morning already?" She smiled sheepishly, although the heat in her cheeks seemed to give away her guilty conscience. "I must have passed out, sister."

She could feel their silent gazes on her as she struggled to shuffle toward the edge of the bed. Her whole body felt heavy and sore, but not as much as her legs did. There was no way Grace could survive something like that with her fragile little body. "I did it, sister," she spoke again, waiting for a reply to confirm if they'd already left the room. "I did as you asked," she smiled gently, ignoring the throbbing between her legs.

"Laura..." Gracefeel whispered before falling on her knees as her legs gave in.

"My lady!" Desmonda panicked. Normally, the duchess had to move around with a wheelchair as her legs were too weak to carry her body for long periods.

"Is anything wrong, Grace?" She was worried now and swiftly jumped to her feet, wanting to aid her sister. Her legs gave in as well, both her knees buckling as she staggered to fall. Fortunately, her right hand caught a hold of the bedpost, preventing her from hitting the floor.

Her face turned toward the door where she could hear her sister sobbing. Was she regretting her plan? Did she not want her husband to have made love to her? Had her husband discovered the truth and stormed out angrily?

Did he hate her?

Her grip on the bedpost tightened as many thoughts swirled through her mind. It was only the sound of her sister's voice that snapped her out of her thoughts.

"Oh Laura, I'm sorry. It's all my fault, I should have been more careful..."

"What happened? Did I do something wrong?" Her heart was racing now, wondering if she was going to be beheaded for deceiving the duke.

"Last night...my husband didn't come home..."

Her whole body froze for a moment as her sister's words slowly sank in. "But...but last night...he was here...I..I..." Her speech was a mess. Had she dreamt up all that occurred the night before? No, it was all too real to be a dream.

Gracefeel shook her head with her tear-stained face. "The man you laid with was a messenger from my husband—" her voice broke. "Leonardo. Leonardo Rothschild."

'Rothschild?'. It was the same surname as her husband, which meant...

"It was my husband's nephew; the crowned prince."