Bride of the Revolution by Bethany Amber Page B

Grace noticed, and the square of rag was pushed to the side displaying a cock that speared straight up and was fully turgid.
    Grace shrugged, her wrists were inflamed where the leather bindings scored them and every muscle in her slender body felt strained. Strained or not, the feel of her companion’s arms about her, the warmth of his muscular body and his excitement, increased the yearning between her thighs.
    â€˜They did not try to despoil you?’
    She shook her head, her warm eyes seeking his, which were onyx and glittering with need. He was a handsome man, with sharply honed features. How easy it would be to allow him her body, allow him to break the precious barrier that made her so valuable. Perhaps then madame and her master would leave her alone.
    But she shook her head, thinking more carefully. ‘It would be more than my life was worth,’ she said.
    â€˜We are to be lashed, you and I,’ he told her.
    Grace did not resist this time when the man cupped her sex pouch, his rough fingers caressing the deep valleys where her pouting sex lips met her thighs, held it gently, not trying to invade it further. She felt a warmth there, a pleasure she could not resist and, involuntarily, she bore down upon the touch. But then the full import of the servant’s statement made her shiver.
    â€˜By that… that… creature?’ she murmured. ‘The gaoler?’ She shuddered, seeing in her mind’s eye the leather pouch that scarcely covered his huge cock. And seeing the whip he wielded so enthusiastically. What did it matter, in that case? What did anything matter?
    She felt him place the flat of his palm against the heat of her sex, spreading her silky moisture across the fine raven curls. The caress made her feel pleasantly lethargic, heavy in her limbs, and a heat swirled about her belly. A further bubble of her juices oozed from her cunt and she lifted her head, her lips parted, moist, ready to be kissed.
    â€˜Do you want me to fuck you?’ he breathed.
    The coarse words shocked Grace but excited her at the same time. She felt her clitty jerk under the protective outer folds and a slow trickle of juices wet her curls. Her sex felt hugely swollen, open and more than ready. She glanced warily into the shadows of their prison, looking for the gaoler, and nodded.
    â€˜Oh, my darling girl,’ the man groaned. ‘What an honour you bestow on me. I shall not care if I am executed if my cock has known the beauty of your silken funnel.’
    The man, whose name she did not know, slipped the square of rag to the side and Grace felt the smooth heat of his cock tip nudge between her thighs. She held his broad shoulders, arching back to give his full access to her sex. She parted her shapely thighs yet further and allowed him to saw his thickness back and forth against the silky blackness of her moistened bush. It throbbed against the wet heat of her swollen sex lips. It touched the very tip of her clitty, petting it as it jerked up his length.
    Grace, becoming bolder, insinuated her slender fingers between their embracing bodies. She cupped the heaviness of his sperm sac, feeling the firmness of his balls beneath the skin. He groaned, and Grace thought the gaoler would appear at any moment, stopping their forbidden pleasure. Although fearful and terrified of the pain she might feel she urged the man to penetrate her. At last she felt it! The dewy moistness of his grossly swollen tip stroked against her entrance.
    â€˜Now,’ she whispered, and she felt a slick of her own juices bathe him in readiness.
    His lips sought hers, hard and punishing, full of passion and, so engrossed were they in the joy of their bodies that they did not hear the sound of footsteps upon the mossy stone steps.
    â€˜Stop that!’ It was madame’s voice, shrill with fury. ‘Philipe! You must stop them, this instant!’
    The sound flung the lovers apart like a shot from a cannon. Grace