Her Husband's Harlot Read Online Free PDF Page A

gut, he knew this night there was no turning back. His
demons had been roused; they clamored for satisfaction, for the satiation of their
voracious appetites.
    Ah,
my love. Forgive me.
    Nicholas
stroked the woman's lower lip, requesting entrance. His nostrils flared as the
tip of her tongue appeared and flicked against the pad of his finger. Licking
him slowly, delicately, as if he was a sweet. He pushed his finger in deeper.
Again, her eyes widened. Lord, but that act of innocence inflamed him. He
thrust the full length of his finger into her mouth, stifling a groan as her
cheeks hollowed on instinct, sucking him into her moist depths. Nicholas gave
an inward groan, his erection straining painfully against the placket of his
trousers. Would the damned threesome never stop fucking?
    As if
in answer, guttural male groans spilled into the room, followed by high keening
female cries. Moments later, he heard a few giggles, the clink of guineas
exchanging hands, and then—about bloody time—the opening and closing of the
door. Nicholas' eyes roamed over the masked vixen in his arms. She appeared
wantonly oblivious to anything at the moment, her eyes half-closed, her generous
breasts rising and falling in rapid rhythm. Some of the paint had smeared around
the edge of her lips; he found that imperfection strangely erotic.
    Lust
bolted through him. With a swift movement, he jerked her into his arms and
yanked aside the curtain. Before she had time to make a sound, he laid her on
the nearest available surface, the desk. She was spread like a feast, and he
felt like a survivor of an endless famine. She made a movement as if to
protest. He merely ran his hands over the tiny sleeves of her loose white
tunic, pulling them down, imprisoning her shapely arms. Her bodice had no
choice but to follow the sleeves, the edge of satin rubbing over creamy mounds
before exposing plump nipples. Ripe as berries they were, puckered sweetly atop
full flawless tits. He filled his hands with the abundance, and the blood
roared in his head when she moaned.
    His
fingers found her nipples, thrummed the buds until her moans became breathy,
desperate. God, but she was an inferno. He had a mind to taste her fire before
he went up in flames himself. He yanked up her skirt. Arousal blasted through
him to find no impeding undergarments save a thin chemise. He slid the hem of
the chemise up further, past her luscious stocking-clad legs, past the frilled
garters, all the way up. At the top of all that delight, he found even more of
heaven—downy soft curls, a shy pussy. He ran his finger reverently down her
slit, found it plump and moist and slippery with wanting.
    She
gave a muffled shriek.
    He
placed his hand over her mouth, noticing how bronzed his hand appeared against
her lily white softness. For a doxy, she had the skin of a lady. "Shh,
sweet, unless you wish to invite others to our party. You would not want that,
would you?"
    Her
eyes grew huge. She shook her head.
    "Good."
Satisfaction humming in his veins, Nicholas slid his hand lower, holding her
gently at the throat. "I am not a man to share."
    With
his other hand, he unbuttoned his pantaloons. His turgid flesh sprang free,
curving upward in triumphant freedom. He brought the bulging tip to the mouth
of her sex, tormenting them both by rubbing the sensitive head against her damp
curls. Up and down he stroked, nudging her hidden peak with the head of his
cock. She gasped, her eyes closing.
    "Look
at me." Gently, he pressed down on her throat. "Tell me you want me."
    Her
eyes flew open. He nearly spilled his seed at her expression, the oh-so
seemingly innocent sweep of long eyelashes, the surely feigned shock widening
her eyes. One would almost believe that beneath that exotic feathered mask one
would find the blushing fresh cheeks of a debutante.
    Yes,
he had found himself a veritable actress. The perfect harlot, one who could not
only satisfy his rod, but also fulfill his darkest innermost desire: