Black Silk Read Online Free PDF

dizzily. She must escape.

    But the circle was too tight. There was no way out.

    A low, dangerous laugh sent a prickle down her spine. She gaped at the men facing her.

    They were unfastening their trousers!

    Her feet felt as if she stood on a roiling sea.

    Each and every man reached his hand in his trousers and drew out his cock. She almost gagged on the smell of masculine sweat, the intimate aroma of their privates. They began touching themselves, stroking their lengths, squeezing and caressing the heads until each rod became stiff and fat and shocking.

    “How dare you!” The high-pitched feminine shriek exploded from the beyond the circle. “Fancy! Snaring eight delicious gentlemen. How selfish!”

    A blowsy, drunken woman shoved two of the men aside and stormed into the circle. Before Maryanne could move, the blond woman’s hand hit her shoulders and sent her stumbling back.

    “A woman requires abundant…skill…to please so many men.” With that, the woman pulled off her chemise, revealing large breasts and plump hips. The men began pulling harder on their members at the sight of the nude woman, who lifted her nipples to her own mouth. Her tongue snaked out and touched the very tip of the erect, long, dark brown length.

    For a moment, Maryanne was dumbstruck.

    But there, between two dark tailcoats, was a glimmer of light.

    She ran.

    She ducked under arms and slithered around bodies, artfully dodging through the crowded corridor. At least she was small and slim.

    Georgiana…

    Maryanne stumbled over someone’s boot and almost fell into a half-naked footman. She glimpsed the young man’s face, beautiful with full lips and startled eyes. Behind her a woman laughed and then squealed.

    Two people were copulating in the corridor. The man’s bared buttocks were pumping, and plump white legs jiggled around his. He was grunting, the woman screaming.

    If this was Georgiana’s idea of a joke—for Georgiana had often said it would be amusing to take her secretly into the demimonde world—if her partner had lured her into this nightmare for a diversion, she would…would…

    Throw ink on Georgiana’s gowns. Toss her jewels in the Thames. Put a bag of flour over her bedchamber door. Pour treacle in her shoes—

    A male hand snatched at her breast.

    She bared her teeth, pushed a drunk, swaying woman at him, and then raced down the corridor. At the end, she left the crowd behind. There was no one but her, which meant there could not be any perverse entertainments here. Her corridor abutted another, and at the junction there was a closed door. No sound came from behind the door.

    Perhaps this was a safe place to hide. To decide what to do.

    Laughter, moans, and screams echoed behind her, pounding in her dizzy head.

    In this case, how could the unknown be any worse than the known?

    The doorknob turned easily in her hand, and the door swung open to darkness.

    She shut the door firmly behind her. Gasping, she braced her hands on it and turned the key in the lock.

    A small snick startled her, along with the quick sulfur smell of a light being struck. Her heart almost extinguished itself. Shaking, Maryanne turned as flame touched wick and a light caught.

    It reflected Lucifer’s dark eyes and wickedly handsome face. “Good evening, angel. Are you the night’s entertainment?”

2
    A t one glance, Maryanne knew he was drunk.
    And knew, of course, he was not Lucifer.

    Lord Swansborough sprawled on a wing chair. His shirt was open at his throat, and curling hair, soft and black as night, peeked out of the black-dyed lawn of his shirt. Cast aside, his elegant coat and his shimmering black waistcoat lay in a jumble on the floor by his feet. The light of the single candle glimmered on his thick blue-black hair.

    Every night when she edited an erotic scene by candlelight, Swansborough became the hero of the scene. He was the man of fantasy who stripped off his clothes and lowered his naked body over hers. He