Her Husband's Harlot Read Online Free PDF

to
transform innocence into wanton passion. To turn a lady—his lady—into a sweet,
uninhibited slut.
    "Tell
me then, my sweet, what is it that you want?"
    His
vixen moaned, arching her hips against his erection, instinctively seeking
hardness to rub against her softness. Her desire left the head of his shaft slippery,
quivering for entry into the moist paradise. Nicholas withdrew, his expression stern.
"A well-bred miss such as yourself surely knows to answer a question when
asked. Answer me, or we shall cease."
    She looked at him, eyes huge. When she spoke, her
words were soft, husky, and wholly unexpected. " Monsieur, s'il vous plaît.
Je ne comprends pas ..."
    She
was French then, likely newly arrived in England. He found her accent
entrancing and oddly familiar, which did not make any sense as he did not know
any French women. Then she shifted against him again, pleading with his cock,
coating it in intoxicating wetness. Though he knew only rudimentary French, the
language of lust was universal. He responded with a deliberate thrust forward, allowing
the distended tip to nudge past her lush lips.
    " Mademoiselle ,
is this what you want?" He moved in a little deeper, feeling her passage
clench before slowly giving way to him. She was surprisingly tight. He could
feel the rim of her stretching to accommodate his erection. He would not be
able to continue with this game much longer.
    To
his relief, she nodded, as if in understanding.
    "'Tis
my cock you're wanting then. My cock in your sweet pussy." He spoke the
words as a tutor would to an apt pupil. He thrust in deeper, slowly stretching
her, feeling his chest swell with her cries of pleasure. He sank himself further
into her molten depths. "Ask for it, sweeting. More of my cock."
    "Cock,"
she echoed in breathy accents, her head moving side to side as he rewarded her
with another inch of his rod. " S'il vous plaît, monsieur ... more
... cock!"
    With
a hoarse groan, he filled his hands with the full curves of her ass,
luxuriating in its womanly softness. He lifted her hips and slammed his length
all the way into her. She was instant fire, pure flame wrapping along his shaft
as he moved within her. She moaned, arching off the table to receive his
thrusts. Seeking leverage, he gripped the edge of the desk as he worked himself
deeper and deeper, fucking to the heart of her pussy. Crazed with lust, he
pounded into her as she chanted wantonly, " J'adore le cock, monsieur ,
ohhhh ... more ..."
    The
overwhelming desire blurred the edges of his vision and tore deep growls from
his throat. Even as he ground into her tight passage, her entire body arched to
receive him, wanting more. Her lips released words in French that he did not
understand, yet the pleading tone of the silky syllables had him thrusting
harder, deeper. As he'd imagined, her full tits swayed gorgeously with each
thrust, her nipples engorged and begging for attention. He leaned down and
captured a tip in his mouth. He suckled in rhythm with his pistoning cock.
    That
was all it took. She shrieked—there was no other word for it—a high, almost
startled sound that poured like a balm over his chafed soul. She came like the
beautiful wanton she was: her pussy gripped him with brazen insistence, milking
him with a cadence of shimmering contractions. His eyes closed as the pressure
expanded in his bollocks, intensifying, and finally bubbling upward along his
shaft. Delving into her folds, he found the center of her pleasure.
    Her
scream sizzled in his ears even as his vision turned to black. With his last
ounce of control, he wrenched himself out. A harsh shout escaped his lips,
disguising a beloved's name, as his pleasure shot in glistening trails across
the desk.

THREE
     
    Seated
in the blue and white drawing room, Helena sipped her tea and avoided Lady Marianne
Draven's eyes. She feared those intelligent emerald eyes held an all too
knowing expression. She had not stopped blushing since last evening, a state