At Her Service (Swords of Passion) Read Free Page B

arms at his stroke. But he gentled her and, with a splayed hand, pressed her body once more to the mattress. His fingers spread into her cunny hair, combed it and tangled it, tugging it and leaving her panting for more.
    He did not disappoint her but sent one blunt finger down along the seam of her labia. In one swift move, he pierced her with two fingers high up into her wet and wilful channel. She arched. Her hands clutched for him, and with a wordless muttering, he shifted his body, grabbed her hips, tilted her body up and rammed himself inside her.
    A mute O of pleasure formed on her lips as she stilled and felt Simon de la Poer possess every iota of her being. She paused there on the edge of her ageless dream and knew that no night-time fantasy had ever compared to the reality of Simon in the flesh. He filled her totally, his thick rod stretching her to generous proportions, pressing his long, hot member deep into her womb where the pleasure of his presence made her whimper. And gasp. And clasp him closer until the pounding of his manhood inside her and the friction of his length against her brought her to a good, hot place that made her groan and throb in completion. But in one glide he slid out of her, his eyes averted. He had left her, and once more, she questioned if the mindless passion her mother had told her might occur with a lover was a tale of her mother’s experience, a morsel of that lady’s imagination or a troubadour’s fiction.
    Bereft that she’d experienced little more than the same completion she’d known with Alphonse, Elise felt cheated of what she might have had with Simon. Bewildered at the lack of some expected glory, she lay, panting, watching Simon rise to walk to the sideboard, bend and splash water to his face.
    She knew he had not given her his seed, and she yearned to see if he was still up and full. She had learned from Alphonse how to pull a man’s rod and give him relief. God help her, she wished to handle Simon, wanted to feel his giant member fill her palm again. Her own hands lay atop her wanton bush, and she fought the wicked urge to let them do something she had never done and wander to her juicy lips and bring herself a small, quick delight. Aye, she wanted more of him. What folly had it been for her husband to believe that Simon would do as he commanded and give her one lay and his seed? What folly to ever assume one claiming could make a child? What folly had it ever been for her to think that after once abed with Simon she could ever let him go?
    Her husband struggled up on one elbow. “I did not see you taste her, de la Poer!” he sputtered as if he were a child denied a treat. “You were too fast. I tell you, I need to hear her scream.”
    Wanting that, too, Elise covered her face with two hands. “Alphonse, stop this.”
    “Nay!” her husband croaked and fought a spasm. “Nay! You want my wife, de la Poer, you do as I tell you!”
    She heard Simon curse as he whirled from his task and strode towards them and bent over her. With two hands that felt like iron grips on her waist, Simon hauled her up and flung her over his shoulder, her bare ass in the air. Her breath fled as her heart pounded in anticipation of new delights with him. He strode towards her alcove, one hot hand around a thigh then whirled to growl at her husband, “You’ve had what I promised you, old man. One time with her in your bed—and now it’s done. She did what she did, scream or no. Now in her own bed, without command from you, she will do as she wishes.”
    Simon turned and strode towards her alcove, secluded from Alphonse’s sight and nearly private, save for the lack of a door. Once at the edge of her own mattress, Simon paused. Despair loomed as she feared he would put her to her bed and leave her there alone. She groaned, wild that she had to endure such a huge loss now after her conflicted emotions about their reunion.
    Then in one swirling motion, he laid her gently to the softness