Lessons and Lovers Read Free Page A

deep, deep inside her, sliding easily into her buttery flesh and curving deftly to press against her G-spot.
    One firm touch there and she was screaming and kicking her legs, her bottom bouncing high off the sweat-soaked sheet.
    But Starr would not be shaken from his target. Or his infernal internal stroking.
    “Please,” she begged hoarsely, not even knowing whether it was for less contact, or for more. Her fingers flew to her jumping clitoris. To meet his caressing finger at her body’s most exquisite nexus.
    She was still rubbing when she felt his hand withdraw and his mouth leave her breast. She whimpered with loss, but the cries were wildly premature. Within moments, his cock filled the void inside her and his firm lips were covering her mouth.
    She sobbed silently as their breaths mingled. A kiss was somehow closer, more joined even, than the sex. If he could kiss her so sweetly, it must mean that he cared for her in some deeper way? As he began to fuck her, she worked her clitoris greedily in time to his thrusts. The combined stimuli were deliciously wicked. Each time he plunged deep, her fingers were jammed against her flesh. It was a double pleasure. A double fuck. And in moments she was coming again, the orgasm doubly strong.
    “Starr!” she keened as her body seemed to dissolve and reform, her complicated emotions calmed, for the moment, by simple uncomplicated pleasure. Grief for her late husband, confused guilt, frustrated longing to touch the heart of the man inside her…all were soothed by the power of magnificently satisfying sex. “Starr!” she sobbed, smiling beneath his lips as a warm flow bathed her pussy, his thick rush of semen a balm for all her ills.
    His own orgasm was intense, staccato, almost animalistic, and on the last thrust, he collapsed and sighed heavily into her neck. It was just a long exhausted exhalation, but at the very limits of her hearing, Hettie knew she’d heard her own name.
    “Oh, Starr, that was beautiful!” she murmured, winding her arms around him, trying to crush every inch of herself against his damp, hard, muscle-packed form.
    But he gently pried her off again.
    “Let me up, Ma’am. I’m too heavy. I don’t want to squash you,” he whispered, shaking himself free and lying down—long, golden and magnificent—beside her.
    “What if I want to be squashed?” she replied, drowsily resigning herself to being “Ma’am” once more.
    It was no use taking him to task about that again. She couldn’t be upset or angry with him after the beauty he’d just made for her. The way he’d lifted her from the pit and made life bright again. Badgering him about what he called her—either while they fucked, or at all other times—made not one iota of difference. He was as intransigent about her name as he was about his. Starr was always, always “Starr”, and Hettie was only “Hettie” when he had his cock lodged deep inside her.
    Which it wasn’t now, so she was “Milady” as she curled up alongside him and got the warmth of his strong arm around her shoulders, drawing him against her. She was tired now, really tired, but as she started to drift, stray thoughts popped into her head.
    What was she going to do about Darryl? She’d agreed to take him in, and yet the presence of another man in the house would only make the task of understanding her relationship with Starr more complicated.
    Without thinking, she sighed, and as she did so, she felt Starr’s grip on her tighten infinitesimally, as he sensed her tension.
    Why now? She knew even as she thought it that there really was no other choice. Heaven knows, I know enough about grief and confusion and loneliness… How can I deny the poor man a refuge?
    We’ll just have to go on as we are a bit longer, Starr , she told her servant silently, instinctively pressing her cheek to the warm cushion of his muscular chest. She’d so longed to breach this beautiful man’s barrier of formality, and find out if the