A Gentlewoman's Dalliance Read Free Page A

commanding hers, Benedict reached into her garments boldly, cupped his fingers under her breasts and lifted their weight to bring them into the light. As he bared her nipples, he flicked them with his thumbs, back and forth.
    â€œNo…no…” keened Mary. Not that she meant it. Far from it. Wild passion surged in her blood, an intense thrill that made her want to shift her thighs to ease the ache gathering between them. It didn’t seem to matter that it wasn’t her beloved Leonard touching her. The caress of her husband’s eyes was as real to her as that of Benedict’s fingertips, the heat in their beloved gray depths so intense she had to look away. Her gaze skittered about, but came to rest on her own exposed curves, and her thick, roseate nipples, so firm and puckered and eager.
    The tips of her breasts throbbed so hard that she almost imagined them visibly pulsating, their beat keeping pace with other rhythms: that of her heart and the low heavy thud at the apex of her thighs. Mary bit her lips, containing a moan. She would have given anything to touch herself now, regardless of the eyes of a stranger upon her. The call of her puss, and of the very seat of her pleasure, the little bud of her clitoris, was almost agonizing. Her fingertips fluttered, ready to dive into the split of her open-vented drawers and find the prize with which they longed to make free.
    â€œShe’s lusty, isn’t she?” remarked Benedict, his pale eyes apparently seeing her thoughts, perhaps her soul. “A woman of intense appetites… Quite a handful, I’ll be bound.” His fingers plagued her nipples again, flicking and tickling.
    â€œOh, absolutely,” confirmed Leonard, thrusting his hands into his pockets as if content to observe her response to the other man. Through the veil of her lashes Mary could see that there was something of a disturbance in her husband’s trousers. Benedict’s dalliance with her was firing Leonard’s passions as much as her own. “She takes a lot of satisfying, does my dear wife, either in the normal fashion or by the efforts of her own hand.”
    Mary gasped, feeling her blushing face turn pinker than ever.
    A smile played around Benedict’s lips as he seemed to consider this. “Well, in that case, perhaps you would care to see me demonstrate a few techniques you could use to master her and bend her lewd desires to your preference? There are always new refinements to be tried.”
    â€œSplendid…do proceed. You have a free hand with her, old man.”
    Mary was about ready to swoon. Her head felt as light as thistledown and her body almost sang with anticipation. She was at the mercy of two of the most virile and handsome men in London, enveloped in her own fantasy come true. Images danced in her mind of what they might do to her, and of what delicious new outrages they might perpetrate on her body.
    â€œCome along, Mrs. Brigstock. I think it’s time I smacked your bottom now.” Benedict’s voice was quiet and conversational, as if his words were perfectly commonplace and he’d merely suggested that they share a song at the piano or a game of whist. As he took her hand and led her across the room toward her husband’s venerable old mahogany desk, she heard Leonard moving about behind her. Perhaps deciding which seat would give him the most commanding view. Then came the clink of glass, which told her he was helping himself to a brandy from the tantalus. A small snifter to accompany the show.
    Standing by the desk where Leonard wrote his letters and perused his business documents, Mary trembled, every nerve tuned in readiness for the sensations that lay ahead. She’d wanted to be spanked. She did still want to be spanked. But natural apprehension made her heart leap and skitter.
    â€œNo need to be afraid, Mrs. Brigstock,” said the specialist, his light blue eyes almost hypnotic and impossible to