Perilous Pleasures by Jenny Brown

from the tuft of fur from which his rod projected, teetering on the brink of a decision.
    Should she grasp his organ now, and make it do its duty? Surely it was stiff enough to get the job done. She need only guide it to her con and in a matter of moments she would have achieved her goal. But she couldn’t do it. Not yet. Perhaps in just a moment, when she calmed herself, and got control of her breathing, she could return to it. But for now, she could barely think straight. Her pulse was pounding, and the strangest thoughts were going through her mind.
    She withdrew her hand and turned to something safer, stroking his muscled chest, marveling as she did how taut and unyielding his flesh was there, and how different from her own. Her breathing calmed, but not enough. He wanted her now, and she must take what he offered while she could. She ran her hand down his flank, forcing her fingers down to where they must go.
    He groaned in his sleep, and as he clenched his jaw, his arms came up as if to push her away. In another moment he would waken. Would he be furious? With her free hand she reached into the pocket where she’d slipped her knife to make sure it was still within reach should she need it.
    But Ramsay didn’t waken, nor did he push her away. Instead, he pulled her closer. Her small breasts flattened against the hard muscles that rippled across his chest as he engulfed her. His breathing grew more ragged than her own. She could no longer delay. Steeling herself, she reached down and circled his organ with her hand, shocked by how large it had become.
    She hadn’t expected it to be this easy. She’d heard so much from her mother’s friends about how hard it was to get their lovers’ unreliable members to stand up. But this one needed no coaxing. It was hard and thick, and it swelled against her hand where she grasped it, so strongly she could barely encompass it. She squeezed it with her widespread fingers, in rhythm with the blood that pounded in her ears, sliding her hand up and down its length, amazed at how thin and flexible the skin was that covered it. Her mind began to fill with a strange madness, as pulsing waves of energy rose from his organ and made her fingers tremble.
    He moaned and embraced her more tightly, nuzzling her ear with his lips and whispering something incomprehensible. His pelvis thrust against her abdomen, his organ a battering ram now, hard and demanding, and shockingly slick.
    â€œYes,” he murmured. “Oh yes!”
    She was seized with terror. This wasn’t what she’d imagined. He was too strong. She’d expected to be able to control him. After a lifetime of listening to the courtesans trade tales, she’d assumed the culminating act would be just another of the subtle negotiations she’d seen her mother engage in with the men who filled her life.
    But there was nothing subtle here. She couldn’t control it. She was enveloped in the smell of Ramsay’s arousal and helpless before the power of what she’d unleashed in him. He pulled her closer, overwhelming her, and kissed her neck and her shoulders, even as his throbbing pole pushed insistently against her body, seeking to thrust home.
    There was no room for negotiation here. He was mad for her. He ground his hips so her sex rubbed against his swelling tool until, to her shock, she felt herself swelling, too, and a burst of wetness gushed out of her most private part.
    How could this be? She was as wild as he was and as hungry, possessed by animal passions she hadn’t ever known she could feel. In another moment she’d no longer be a virgin. She’d have done what she’d set out to do, and found her freedom. But she wasn’t free now, no, not with what he’d called out in her body. She wanted him. Desire flooded through her. She forced back the cry that rose to her lips, unbidden.
    Then something changed. His grip on her relaxed and his hand began to