actual valuables had been sold and substituted with fakes.
After a painstaking inspection, she lay down on the bed, staring up at the canopy, listening as a servant tried the knob, then moved on. She relished being on the other side of the door, knowing that she was inside when she wasn’t supposed to be.
Flipping onto her stomach, she pressed her body into the mattress, and her breasts rubbed across the covers. She pushed with her hips, mimicking the thrusting motion that the stable lads had shown her when she’d still been able to sneak off.
On a particularly naughty afternoon, she’d permitted the best-looking boy, Jeremy, to lower the bodice of her dress and peer at her breasts. They’d been full and round, her nipples sticking out. He’d been excited, enthralled, and she’d liked how it had felt to have him so awestruck. She hadn’t let him touch her, but she’d promised she would on the next visit, then there hadn’t been a
next
.
She rotated onto her back, so that she could fondle her breasts. The boys had done the same, through the fabric of her gown, and she’d been thrilled by their groping and pawing. But now that Margaret was continually hovering about, she couldn’t slip away, and she regretted that she hadn’t let Jeremy do more during that conclusive, torrid rendezvous.
He’d wanted to kiss and suck on them, but she’d said no, and oh, how she rued that she had. She closed her eyes and envisioned that it was Jeremy’s coarse, work-hewnfingers manipulating her, and the stimulation had her wet and tingling down below.
Thoroughly aroused, she returned to her stomach, and burrowed her nose into the pillows. While stretching her arms, she banged them against a solid object, and she recognized its shape. Olivia’s portfolio! She pulled it out and lifted the flap, surprised by the number of pictures.
As she tugged them out and arranged them in a neat pile, astonishment gripped her. She’d expected the usual array of boring sketches—of Helen, of Winnie, of the town house, of a street vendor—but this was something else entirely, so unanticipated and sensational that she scarcely knew what to make of it.
“Nudes!” she murmured. “How absolutely grand!”
Olivia had drawn herself over and over, her bust bared, her breasts naked and depicted from every angle. With her, in the center of every page, was Lord Salisbury’s stablemaster!
In the week they’d been at the estate, Penny had caught several glimpses of him. Once, he’d had his shirt off, his hairy chest and muscled shoulders visible from the secluded walkway where she’d spied on him. He was the most gorgeous creature she’d ever witnessed. Plainly, Olivia thought so, too.
In every scene, he was simpering toward her exposed bosom, and in the last one in the stack, she was on his lap, and he was caressing her with his large hands. She was in ecstasy, his stroke electrifying and exhilarating her.
Penny looked and looked, so wound up that she could hardly breathe.
Why had Olivia done this? What did it portend? Was she having an affair with the stablemaster? She was too much of a stick-in-the-mud to commit so wicked anexploit. How had she had the opportunity or the inclination?
“Oh, God!” She squealed, teetering over and clutching the pictures to her chest, while she chortled with delight.
This was too delicious to be true!
Olivia and the stablemaster!
What a luscious secret to possess! How could she use the information to the greatest advantage?
Carefully, she replaced the illustrations in the portfolio, and buried them under the pillows, adjusting the bedcovers so that there was no hint that they’d been ruffled. With a hasty glance around, she made certain there was no sign she’d been snooping.
Then she crept into the hall. Finding it empty, she tiptoed out and shut the door.
Jane stood in the matron’s office, the deadly quiet of the orphanage resonating behind her. The children were working, so no chattering
After a painstaking inspection, she lay down on the bed, staring up at the canopy, listening as a servant tried the knob, then moved on. She relished being on the other side of the door, knowing that she was inside when she wasn’t supposed to be.
Flipping onto her stomach, she pressed her body into the mattress, and her breasts rubbed across the covers. She pushed with her hips, mimicking the thrusting motion that the stable lads had shown her when she’d still been able to sneak off.
On a particularly naughty afternoon, she’d permitted the best-looking boy, Jeremy, to lower the bodice of her dress and peer at her breasts. They’d been full and round, her nipples sticking out. He’d been excited, enthralled, and she’d liked how it had felt to have him so awestruck. She hadn’t let him touch her, but she’d promised she would on the next visit, then there hadn’t been a
next
.
She rotated onto her back, so that she could fondle her breasts. The boys had done the same, through the fabric of her gown, and she’d been thrilled by their groping and pawing. But now that Margaret was continually hovering about, she couldn’t slip away, and she regretted that she hadn’t let Jeremy do more during that conclusive, torrid rendezvous.
He’d wanted to kiss and suck on them, but she’d said no, and oh, how she rued that she had. She closed her eyes and envisioned that it was Jeremy’s coarse, work-hewnfingers manipulating her, and the stimulation had her wet and tingling down below.
Thoroughly aroused, she returned to her stomach, and burrowed her nose into the pillows. While stretching her arms, she banged them against a solid object, and she recognized its shape. Olivia’s portfolio! She pulled it out and lifted the flap, surprised by the number of pictures.
As she tugged them out and arranged them in a neat pile, astonishment gripped her. She’d expected the usual array of boring sketches—of Helen, of Winnie, of the town house, of a street vendor—but this was something else entirely, so unanticipated and sensational that she scarcely knew what to make of it.
“Nudes!” she murmured. “How absolutely grand!”
Olivia had drawn herself over and over, her bust bared, her breasts naked and depicted from every angle. With her, in the center of every page, was Lord Salisbury’s stablemaster!
In the week they’d been at the estate, Penny had caught several glimpses of him. Once, he’d had his shirt off, his hairy chest and muscled shoulders visible from the secluded walkway where she’d spied on him. He was the most gorgeous creature she’d ever witnessed. Plainly, Olivia thought so, too.
In every scene, he was simpering toward her exposed bosom, and in the last one in the stack, she was on his lap, and he was caressing her with his large hands. She was in ecstasy, his stroke electrifying and exhilarating her.
Penny looked and looked, so wound up that she could hardly breathe.
Why had Olivia done this? What did it portend? Was she having an affair with the stablemaster? She was too much of a stick-in-the-mud to commit so wicked anexploit. How had she had the opportunity or the inclination?
“Oh, God!” She squealed, teetering over and clutching the pictures to her chest, while she chortled with delight.
This was too delicious to be true!
Olivia and the stablemaster!
What a luscious secret to possess! How could she use the information to the greatest advantage?
Carefully, she replaced the illustrations in the portfolio, and buried them under the pillows, adjusting the bedcovers so that there was no hint that they’d been ruffled. With a hasty glance around, she made certain there was no sign she’d been snooping.
Then she crept into the hall. Finding it empty, she tiptoed out and shut the door.
Jane stood in the matron’s office, the deadly quiet of the orphanage resonating behind her. The children were working, so no chattering
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