The Moonswept Alpha (Paranormal Werewolf Shifter Romance) by Emily Stone Page B

pleased when he gave a short heated pant against her ear.  “I am going to take you upstairs to the parlour and fuck you hard, Cassandra,” he breathed hotly into the hair above her ear.
    “But first,” his hand retreated from her buttock as the music rose to a loud crescendo of strings signalling the end of the tune.  “I am going to paint these beautiful tits of yours with my cream and watch you rub it into your skin.”  His voice stayed low as the music finished and couples clapped in exuberance around them.  Reluctantly Cassandra found her hand leaving the bulge that she had been caressing and joined with her other in clapping the musicians.
    “Fourth door on your right up the stairs.  I shall see you there in a few minutes,” he whispered as he bowed low over her until his mouth was just above her shoulder.  Cassandra found herself nodding and smiling as he escorted her back to her seat.  Watching as he turned and moved back across the room acknowledging some greetings from others as he went.
    Cassandra’s heart thumped in her chest and she looked around for the stairs.  People were moving up and down it as she watched and pondered whether she would obey the lord’s directions.  A small lurch in her stomach decided her as his blazing brown eyes briefly caught and held hers from across the room where he sipped from his wine glass in company with one of the widows he so disparagingly told her about.
    ***
    Cassandra waited in the darkened parlour with a beating heart and extremely sweaty hands.  She had never done anything like this in all of her twenty-two years.  Her virgin sex however, was awash with her fluids and she could even smell her arousal.
    A sweet smell that had only assailed her nostrils in the past few months as she ran her hands over her light covering of dark curls between her legs and found the large nubbin of her clitoris as she lay in her bed at home.
    It was an accidental discovery as she had lain on her cotton sheets last summer feeling extremely aroused by the stories she had overhead from her uncle and father in the den as they sat smoking their pipes and reliving their naval exploits.  The two men had been discussing the women they had met in France during the war and how they had no doubt left illegitimate children in the wombs of women that seemed to delight in sucking and fondling the men’s heavy cocks.
    The young woman’s face had burned when she had delivered more port to them at her mother’s insistence and had come to the doorway just as her father finished describing a particularly absorbing encounter with a woman whom it seemed enjoyed frigging herself for a roomful of men.  His description of her fingers rubbing her clitoris and opening her cunny had created strange images and desires within Cassandra.  Fearing discovery she had coughed to alert the men that she was approaching and the two had switched topic to fishing for the ears of the young woman who deposited her tray in front of them and bid them goodnight.
    Rushing back to her room she had locked the door and quickly stripped off her garments.  By the light of her bedside candle she had placed her hand mirror between her widespread thighs and examined herself.  A small moan escaped her mouth as she parted the heavy folds of her sex and found the swelling just above the opening of her vagina.  The flesh was quite sensitive and she repeated the words her father used.  “Clittie, cunt, flaps, cunny,” she whispered to herself as she touched each of the named parts and allowed her small index finger to rub into the opening that seemed to be getting wetter as she watched.
    Returning to the swollen flesh that was now fully exposed as she played, she gently rubbed it in the manner in which her father described the woman doing.  Her gasps and moans were uncontrolled as she found herself pressing harder and faster on the swollen flesh.  “Oh my God,” she groaned as the sensations between her legs