In the Flesh Read Online Free PDF Page B

with the same radical force that lit the glittering mansion around them, its Promethean power channeled into her every nerve and cell. She felt alight, aflame, filled with yearning and longing and an unstoppable compulsion to press her skin against Ritchie’s skin, cleaving to every last square inch of it.
    When she’d had the mad urge to take her clothes off and pose for Eustace’s camera, it’d been nothing more than an anemic whim compared to this. The need to be naked for Ritchie and with Ritchie was a primal drive. An instinct in her blood, pumping and surging.
    Aha, this “female hysteria” they write about so coyly in certain advertisements at the back of the Lady’s Weekly Journal. Why on earth do they imply that it’s unpleasant, and to be avoided? Because they’re wrong, so wrong! Completely wrong!
    Her breasts felt sore and strange, and yet the sensation was delicious somehow, and far more than pleasant. They chafed against her fine chemise and the inside of her corset and she surged against the solid wall of Ritchie’s body, trying to increase the effect and rub her aching nipples against him.
    “Oh, you’re a hot one, Beatrice,” gasped Ritchie as they broke apart to get more breath. Beatrice wasn’t sure she’d taken one for at least two minutes. She was light-headed, but it wasn’t through lack of oxygen…it was Ritchie. “You’re more than I ever dreamed, beautiful girl,” he went on, his mouth against her cheek, then her hair, his jaw brushing the side of her throat. As he spoke, his breath fanned against her, and below his hand pulled deftly at her skirts, with the skill of much practice, no doubt. Up and up they came, and then his fingers slid skillfully amongst the layers, pushing them up so he could clasp the rounded cheek of her bottom through her drawers.
    Beatrice shot up in the air and started to struggle again. But just as before, without effort, Ritchie quelled her with his hands on her body and his mouth possessing hers. Conflicting urges battled. Every tenet of good behavior she’d ever had drilled into her waged war with delicious new desires—the craving to touch, taste, rub against and lay herself open to everything this man had to offer.
    Her struggle died almost before it had begun, and she softened to the kiss like warmed honey. When he clasped her bottom this time, she almost purred into his mouth like a plump and lazy kitten accepting his affection, wickedly pleased that large, elaborate bustles were no longer en vogue and Ritchie could effect a firm hold on her without that extra hindrance to negotiate.
    That’s outrageous! How can I think such things? Her mind raced. How can a kiss affect me this way?
    The thought disappeared, drenched in oceans of sensation.
    * * *
    How can a kiss affect me this way?
    On a wave of shock and desire, Ritchie plunged his tongue into Beatrice Weatherly’s mouth. He’d wanted her, yes, the moment he’d seen the first photograph, but this…this reality exceeded his every fevered fantasy.
    Every part of her stirred him. Her soft mouth he imagined wrapped around his cock. Her delicious body he imagined writhing in uncontrolled ecstasy as he plied her with fingers and tongue, driving her to heights of sensation again and again and again. He imagined fondling the firm, rounded bottom that wriggled so exquisitely against his palm. She was a natural, unstudied sensualist and a little perversity would only spice her ultimate pleasure.
    And oh, he wanted that, her ultimate pleasure. He wanted her orgasms. Her complete surrender. Her nakedness, his to enjoy in all ways, open to hand and mouth and a dozen wicked sexual contrivances. He wanted her secured to a bed so he could plunge into her, lose himself in the scent of lily of the valley and woman’s musk and forget every sad thing that had ever troubled him. In the oblivion of her flesh, there might be peace.
    He had to have her.
    How could he get her?
    What could he offer?
    A quick tumble