loosened its hold of her chest.
Josephine leaned in. “Now tell me everything about
the Château Follet…”
Chapter Five
Closing his eyes, Sebastian imagined the plush lips of
Heloise Merrill wrapped about his cock, the look of lust shimmering in her eyes
as he pushed his erection deeper into her mouth.
He had bound her arms behind her to call more attention to
her breasts. Naked and upon her knees, she was far too delectable a vision not
to fuck. The only dilemma was which orifice to take first. But he had taken
notice of her mouth ever since their encounter at the theater, when her bottom
lip had dropped in astonishment over something he had said. He had been tempted
then to run his thumb over her succulent lips.
Her mouth, a rose to be plundered, willingly took in his
thickness. He sawed his cock in and out of her, felt the velvet of her tongue
grazing his length, throbbed when she sucked the crown of his penis. Was there
a heaven greater than that of her moist warmth encasing him?
Wrapping a hand behind her head, he pushed her farther on to
his cock until his tip brushed the back of her throat. She gagged at first but
relaxed when he rubbed the base of her head. Soon her lips were touching the
hairs of his pelvis, her chin pressed against his scrotum. A few more thrusts
and the fire in his blood, the roiling in his sac could not be contained.
The stream of his desire shot from his cock as the screams
of the woman beneath him jolted him from his reverie.
He climbed off her before the last of his seed had emptied.
Stumbling, he leaned against the wall for support and took in a deep breath. He
was not in the Empress Room of Château Follet but the boudoir of an opera
dancer, and the woman sprawled upon the bed with her skirts thrown above her
waist was not Miss Merrill but a woman whose name he could barely recall. Three
days had passed since he had left the château and still he could not quiet the
humming in his body whenever he thought of Miss Merrill. Perhaps he should not
have dismissed her quite so soon from Château Follet. There was much he wanted
to show her, much he wanted to do with her body. Would she enjoy being bent
over the back of a chair, tied to the posts of the bed, or suspended in
bondage? He wondered which position he would most favor with her—throwing her
legs over his shoulders, pressing her against the wall, or taking her from
behind as she knelt on all fours?
The answer would surely prove to be all of them .
Despite having just spent, he felt desire welling once more
in his groin. He glanced at the woman, now asleep, in the bed before him. For a
moment he considered climbing back onto her, but she looked far too tranquil in
her slumber, and he suspected that pounding himself senselessly into her would
not dispel his thoughts of Miss Merrill.
An hour later he found himself at Brooks’s, but neither
cards nor drink proved an effective distraction. He longed not only for her
body but her company. There was so little he knew of her, save that Jonathan
Merrill had become her guardian upon the death of her parents. He wanted to
know what she thought of Château Follet after her experience with him? He would
like to believe that he had surpassed the depths of any encounters she had had
with previous lovers.
“Go to her ,” Marguerite had urged.
He imagined the possibilities of a second encounter with
Miss Merrill. The grounds of the château possessed a bucolic charm, and he
would have liked to take her on a stroll and engage her in a less
confrontational situation. He sensed that he could speak to her as a peer and
on a world of topics. Some women had a most annoying practice of feigning
ignorance or appearing stupid to please the vanity of the men in their company,
but Heloise was as likely to challenge him. Of course he could always silence
any argument from her by smothering her mouth with his own.
A second assignation would provide him an opportunity to
make amends for his
Josephine leaned in. “Now tell me everything about
the Château Follet…”
Chapter Five
Closing his eyes, Sebastian imagined the plush lips of
Heloise Merrill wrapped about his cock, the look of lust shimmering in her eyes
as he pushed his erection deeper into her mouth.
He had bound her arms behind her to call more attention to
her breasts. Naked and upon her knees, she was far too delectable a vision not
to fuck. The only dilemma was which orifice to take first. But he had taken
notice of her mouth ever since their encounter at the theater, when her bottom
lip had dropped in astonishment over something he had said. He had been tempted
then to run his thumb over her succulent lips.
Her mouth, a rose to be plundered, willingly took in his
thickness. He sawed his cock in and out of her, felt the velvet of her tongue
grazing his length, throbbed when she sucked the crown of his penis. Was there
a heaven greater than that of her moist warmth encasing him?
Wrapping a hand behind her head, he pushed her farther on to
his cock until his tip brushed the back of her throat. She gagged at first but
relaxed when he rubbed the base of her head. Soon her lips were touching the
hairs of his pelvis, her chin pressed against his scrotum. A few more thrusts
and the fire in his blood, the roiling in his sac could not be contained.
The stream of his desire shot from his cock as the screams
of the woman beneath him jolted him from his reverie.
He climbed off her before the last of his seed had emptied.
Stumbling, he leaned against the wall for support and took in a deep breath. He
was not in the Empress Room of Château Follet but the boudoir of an opera
dancer, and the woman sprawled upon the bed with her skirts thrown above her
waist was not Miss Merrill but a woman whose name he could barely recall. Three
days had passed since he had left the château and still he could not quiet the
humming in his body whenever he thought of Miss Merrill. Perhaps he should not
have dismissed her quite so soon from Château Follet. There was much he wanted
to show her, much he wanted to do with her body. Would she enjoy being bent
over the back of a chair, tied to the posts of the bed, or suspended in
bondage? He wondered which position he would most favor with her—throwing her
legs over his shoulders, pressing her against the wall, or taking her from
behind as she knelt on all fours?
The answer would surely prove to be all of them .
Despite having just spent, he felt desire welling once more
in his groin. He glanced at the woman, now asleep, in the bed before him. For a
moment he considered climbing back onto her, but she looked far too tranquil in
her slumber, and he suspected that pounding himself senselessly into her would
not dispel his thoughts of Miss Merrill.
An hour later he found himself at Brooks’s, but neither
cards nor drink proved an effective distraction. He longed not only for her
body but her company. There was so little he knew of her, save that Jonathan
Merrill had become her guardian upon the death of her parents. He wanted to
know what she thought of Château Follet after her experience with him? He would
like to believe that he had surpassed the depths of any encounters she had had
with previous lovers.
“Go to her ,” Marguerite had urged.
He imagined the possibilities of a second encounter with
Miss Merrill. The grounds of the château possessed a bucolic charm, and he
would have liked to take her on a stroll and engage her in a less
confrontational situation. He sensed that he could speak to her as a peer and
on a world of topics. Some women had a most annoying practice of feigning
ignorance or appearing stupid to please the vanity of the men in their company,
but Heloise was as likely to challenge him. Of course he could always silence
any argument from her by smothering her mouth with his own.
A second assignation would provide him an opportunity to
make amends for his
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