Cheryl Holt Read Online Free PDF Page A

shin that had him wincing, but, for the most part, her efforts were ineffectual.
    The only true damage was to his abused, overinflated phallus, but it wasn’t physical injury he was suffering. Their awkward position had deposited her shapely ass directly against his groin, and his cock swelled further and cried out for an excuse to finish what they’d started.
    God, but he wanted her!
    The woman possessed no secrets. From the beginning, when she’d entered the dressing room and tested the temperature of the bathwater, he’d been spying on her through the tiny hole affixed to the wall between their rooms.
    The antiquated mansion was notorious in its design, averitable lecher’s treasure trove of concealed rooms, secluded hallways, and peepholes so that when she’d pulled off her chemise, he’d seen all: the graceful legs, the curved hips, the crimson hair shielding her pussy, the pert breasts with their beaded nipples.
    She was a ravishing woman, with that spectacular hair, those cheekbones, that cute nose with its upturned tip. And that mouth! With its wicked tongue! How he longed to learn how adept it could be when she wasn’t busy using it to spew sass and issue orders.
    As she’d deliberately and languidly stripped herself bare then knelt in the tub, seductively scrubbing her private places, she’d seemed an intriguing mix of innocence and experience, wholesome yet tantalizing. Knowing he was watching—or so he’d believed—she’d presented a sensual, galvanizing exhibition that could only have been designed to titillate and inflame. The interlude had been the most erotic he’d ever witnessed in a lifetime that had been filled with naughty sexual activity.
    Remarkably, the most intriguing segment had been when she’d lain back in the water with her head tipped against the rim and her eyelids had fluttered closed.
    While she’d slept, she’d appeared young, ingenuous, and removed from the worries that had marred her face when she’d first arrived. She snored, and he couldn’t help chuckling at the memory, or speculating as to how indiscreet she’d deem him to be if he mentioned it.
    Unwonted emotion had tugged at his heartstrings as she’d slumbered so serenely. What had brought her to Bedford and Pamela’s indecent party? What horrid episode had transpired that would make her presume the gathering would rectify her woes?
    She doesn’t belong here
.
    The conviction had spiraled through his mind over and over again, and he’d been overwhelmed by the perception that he understood more about her than he properly ought, that he could sense things about her he had no reason to distinguish. Absurdly, he was desperate to keep her safefrom harm, and he’d nearly persuaded himself that he’d be doing her an enormous favor if he spirited her away.
    Eventually, he’d shaken off the ludicrous notion. Spurred by unfathomable motives, the woman had summoned him upstairs, which meant she was a pampered, amoral member of the
ton
who had come to Pamela’s abode of sin and vice of her own accord, and who was downright eager to enjoy the licentious amusements the lady rendered to her guests.
    Pamela habitually catered to the male libertines and roués of High Society, as well as to their degenerate women, so he was inordinately familiar with this termagant’s type of debased disposition, and he’d relished the idea of having her.
    There was a deceptive air about her that fascinated him; she was natural yet beguiling, and he’d calculated that copulation with her would be a refreshing development, that she would bring something to his sexual intercourse that had been lacking for a long while. By doing nothing at all, she fomented a diverse jumble of sentiment that had him craving more than a heedless carnal encounter.
    Perhaps his heart had not turned to stone, after all.
    With a great deal of excitement and anticipation, he’d approached her, enthusiastic to dispense the sensual attention she’d requested,