Star Slave by Nicole Dere Page B

plunged deeply to show the pale contours of the upper halves of the gorgeous mounds. The long expanse of midriff led to a small triangle of black briefs which hugged the promising swell of a generous mound.
    â€˜I want you, sugar,’ Magda breathed, the smoky voice thrumming with powerful emotion. Then the figure swooped and smothered Felicity, who surrendered her mouth to the searing kiss that claimed her. A hand delved and pushed up the flimsy cotton shirt, baring the breasts that had no other cover. The large warm palm cupped them. The thumb and forefinger plucked and rolled at the throbbing nipple, while another hand slid between their warm bellies and embraced the whole curve of her vulva. The heel of the palm pressed against the moaning girl, deliciously thrilling her with its pressure, so that her thighs parted in blind obedience to the needs of her flesh.
    The rich dark hair fell over Felicity’s belly and thighs as Magda bent, lowered her head in triumph and in homage to the fluid centre of Felicity’s blazing hunger, where, timeless ages later, the lapping tongue, the nipping teeth, and those conquering fingers, brought her to a climax that made her body stiffen, then thresh, her heels hammering on the floor in an ecstasy which engulfed her.
Chapter Six
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    John Keynes eyed the privileged gathering expectantly. There was a hidden tension, despite the relaxed appearance of those around the long dining table littered with the remnants of the excellent meal. On the surface it was simply an assemblage of rich and interesting people, a modem day equivalent of the country house parties of long ago. Their host was charming, the surroundings the height of luxury, the urbane conversation sparkling, the girls lovely.
    The girls. That was enough to arouse his suspicion. They were all prick-raisingly beautiful. And all so unlike the thrusting girl power aggressive types which abounded these days. They did nothing, except to exhibit their beauty. They were watchful, as he was, knowing when to smile and when to murmur a suitable rejoinder. And that was it. If they hadn’t been so restrained he would have guessed they were high class tarts or girls from some exclusive escort agency, ready to go along with, and as far as, this bunch of influential rich dogs wanted them to go.
    There must be something in the atmosphere. Even his coz had been transformed; as quiet as any of them now, sitting there showing off those sexy little tits of hers through that muslin-like dress, and looking as though butter wouldn’t melt in that mouth which she knew how to put to such deadly uses. Clearly, she had gone overboard on this lesbian kick of hers. She had been gone so long with that giant Magda bird - the most fascinating female of all, he acknowledged - that everyone had noticed.
    Ever since then she’d been as quiet as a mouse. And he could guess why. He could recognise that slightly bemused air, since they’d so spectacularly been getting it together. The vaguely unfocused quality of those dark eyes. Yes, he’d be prepared to bet that, in some secluded comer of this venerable pile, she’d had a good seeing to at the hands and other things of the exotic Magda.
    Lucky little her, he thought with a voluptuous quiver as his imagination worked feverishly. The mystical figure was certainly something to get worked up about, on a literally monumental scale. She was not butch; the vulgarity of that word had nothing to do with her unique brand of sexuality. Yet he could not envisage her in any other role than that of dom. And how he would love to play sub to her, he acknowledged, his senses running riot He couldn’t wait for the orgy to begin, if that’s what they were there for. But was it? Or were they presently undergoing some kind of test, to see if they were fit for the fleshly delights which might await them? He had a feeling that his coz had already passed hers, whether the sweet thing realised it or