An Improper Wife Read Online Free PDF Page B

trembled. “I—” she gasped. “I feel as though I will surely die if I do not have your touch,” she said as she opened her legs wider, “here.”
    Taran trailed a finger through the juices that drenched the thin ribbon of downy hair covering her nether lips. Dragging his tongue along the seam, he teased her, drove her to wriggle against him, but he didn’t part her folds to ease the ache building within her. She was so eager for pleasure, yet he paused at an unwanted thought forming in his mind. What if he were not the first? Jealousy coiled in his gut.
    “Have you been touched before?” he whispered.
    She gasped and her thighs tightened around his head. “I have told you that I am yet to wed. I am a virgin.”
    “Aye, a virgin who thrusts against my mouth like a woman accustomed to having a man between her legs.”
    She seized his hair and yanked—hard.
    He growled. The she-devil had returned. “Have I angered you, my lady?”
    “You have. Remove yourself from between my legs and return my dress.”
    Even in the dark, he sensed the daggers aimed from her eyes at his skull. “Nay. You wanted a night of pleasure.”
    “Brute.” She squirmed.
    Taran held fast to her hips and once again sank his mouth into her heated mound, sliding his tongue between her folds. She stiffened and cried out. Taran released her and carefully spread the engorged petals of her pussy. He curled his tongue around her erect nub, sucked it between his lips, then lapped the length of her fast and furiously.
    She trembled against his mouth. He thrust his tongue into her channel. His nostrils flared and his throat tightened. Aphrodite spread her legs wider. He angled his head, devouring her.
    “My lord,” she gasped, and pumped her hips against his mouth.
    He understood the silent demand, but dared not penetrate her with a finger for fear of breaking the maidenhead. In the confined space of the carriage, he couldn’t stretch her opening, worship her body in the manner she deserved. But, by God, he would show her passion. When this night was finished, she would know that she was more than a simple conquest.
    Taran licked, nibbled, and sucked her folds until she screamed. Her body jerked and her legs locked to the side of his head. And still she bucked, a wild bird released to soar higher and higher until her body trembled and sweet cream gushed from her channel.
    “More.” She clutched at his shoulders. “My God, more.”
    She panted, thrusting against his mouth.
    “Please.”
    The lady wanted cock and he couldn’t give it to her. Nor could he deny her. Taran circled her opening with his finger, then turned his hand palm up and slid his middle finger into her hot, tight passage. She moaned as he pulled out and eased in again.
    “Yes. Yes.” She clutched his wrist and forced him deep.
    She was hot, slick and tight. Slipping into her heat, he curled his finger, rubbing against the secret, sensitive part of her channel wall.
    She wildly pumped her hips against his hand as he plunged his finger in and out of her. With his other hand, he reached beneath his kilt and grasped his cock. In a matching rhythm, he worked them both into a frenzy. Taran withdrew his finger from her passage, then slid two fingers inside, slowly stretching the opening. Muscles in his arms bunched as he fucked her with his hand. She seized his cock. He jerked his fingers from inside her. She sat up and slid forward on the seat.
    “Fuck,” he ground out.
    She rubbed her heated flesh against his length. The hairs on her pussy tickled his shaft in agonising delight. Muscles in his arse clenched with each thrust along her drenched folds. Gripping her hips, he lifted her and sat on the seat with her straddling him. He supported her hips, sliding her along his cock as she rode him without penetration.
    “Yes,” she cried, and clutched his shoulders, grinding her hips up and down in exquisite torture against him.
    “There must be a way,” she gasped.
    Taran froze.