I just spent a crazy six weeks revising a book and writing a new novella. What a way to enter Spring. There’ll be much more about them in the coming months. This month, I thought I’d treat you to an X-rated excerpt from one of my older books, The Sixth Lover
Images of Pete’s rigid member haunted Carole’s dream. He was so huge, and her body craved him. No matter how hard she tried to take him inside her, his cock eluded her—always moving away at the last moment. She woke up in a state of excitement too powerful to ignore. So, as Thomas had instructed in his letter from months ago, she slipped her hand under the covers and pulled the hem of her nightgown up so that she could touch her mound. She gasped at the contact. Not what she’d sought in her dream, but the best she could do until one of the men could relieve the ache—assuming she found the audacity to ask one of them outright to fuck her. She had only met them the day before, after all.
As she let her mind drift back into the dream, a small sound penetrated the fog of arousal. Someone walking on the terrace just below her open window. Someone close enough to be listening to what went on in her room.
She walked to the window and looked out. Sure enough, Jean-Paul was standing on the terrace, staring over the wall at the garden and the vineyards in the distance. The moon shone brightly enough to show the black of his hair and the rigid set of his back. As she watched, he turned slowly and gazed up at her. Somehow, he’d known about her restlessness. Somehow, he’d guessed that she’d look out and find him. He wore the same half-amused expression on his face—as if he could read inside her and realize the height of her need for a lover.
No, not a lover with him. Something more complex. And yet, he was a man and had a cock. He’d watched her fellate his friend to orgasm. He had to have become aroused himself, no matter how much he’d try to hide it. Unless he’d had some relief since dinner, he’d fell the need for coupling as bad as she did. He did nothing to beckon her, though, but simply turned and gave her his back
Not bothering with a robe or slippers, she let herself out of her room and padded down the stairs. She had to go down a series of unfamiliar hallways, using her best sense of direction to find her way to the spot below her bedroom. A tall door stood ajar at a promising spot, so she let herself out through it. Yes, the terrace. Jean-Paul leaned against the stone wall a few yards away, so she went to him and took a spot beside him.
“You should sleep in the nude while you’re here,” he said without moving his stare from the distance. “We might want to visit you.”
“Isn’t this a visit?”
“I couldn’t sleep,” he answered.
“I couldn’t, either.” She moved closer to him so that her shoulder nearly met his. “I imagine we’re both restless for the same reason.”
He shrugged. “Pete’s probably sleeping soundly. He always does.”
“And the staff?”
“Safe in their own quarters.” He moved finally, stepping behind her. Still not touching her, he reached around and rested his hands on the wall. Until then, the night air had felt warm enough, but now his body heat seeped into her skin. Denied until now, her poor sex moistened in anticipation. He breathed deeply as if he could smell her musk, the evidence that she wanted him.
“Have you ever watched cats mate?” he asked.
“I never kept pets.”
“They don’t look as if they’re enjoying it,” he said. “You’d think they were fighting except for the way the female lifts her ass into the air to tempt him.”
Finally, he did touch her, putting his palms on her buttocks. Not unlike the way he’d touched her when she’d come down for dinner, but now he kneaded the flesh. “You’ve been tempting me with this since you came into the house.”
“You’re the one who left that dress on the bed.”
His hands went lower, still squeezing. His fingers slipped between her thighs. Even from behind like this, they neared her sex enough to squeeze the lips and put pressure on her clitoris. More wetness seeped from her, dampening the cloth of her gown enough that he’d have to feel it.
“Damned clothing,” he muttered. He fumbled with the tie of his robe and then gathered up the skirt of her gown in his fists.
Yes. Now, he’d do something. He’d either touch her or fuck her. She’d come either way. Finally, his cock pressed against her bare skin. Not as large as Pete’s, but rock hard and hot enough to sear its imprint into her flesh. She whimpered with need. Just like in her dream—the hardness so close but not inside her.
“The male cat holds his female down, covering her with his body. She accepts his roughness. It excites her.” He parted her legs, stepped between them, and drove his rod up into her. No tenderness. No caresses. No soft words. Just what she wanted. She didn’t even have to look at him. She could just take and take and take.
Without breaking their union, he pressed her hands against the rocks of the wall and covered them with his own. His cock went right on moving inside her. Harder and deeper. Like the cat, she arched her back to offer him maximum penetration. He whispered a string of French as he kept shoving himself inside her. No translation necessary, the meaning came through. Soft, sweet, and nasty, the words told the story of males and females in heat. Coming together in the most primitive way possible.
As his thrusts grew more savage, he pushed on her hands so hard that the stones pressed into the flesh of her palms. She wouldn’t complain, though. She wouldn’t do anything to slow him. The climax was too close—coiling deep in her belly. She clenched her sex down on him, seeking more friction. In response, he grunted and ground himself against her with each thrust.
“Don’t stop,” she whispered. “Please, don’t stop.”
He bit her shoulder, right through her gown. Truly animal now. Both of them.
“Come,” he whispered.
He let out a growl and continued thrusting. To steady herself, she kept her palm firm against the stones of the wall. “Fuck me.”
“Like this?” he said as he drove himself deeper inside her.
“Yes, damn it. More.” Just a little more. Close, so close. She tensed as every nerve caught fire. She would come now. “Keep fucking me.”
He did. Hard. Her sex exploded in violent orgasm, clamping down on him in waves. She screamed as the power of it stole her consciousness of anything but her pussy and the hard male flesh that plunged into it. He roared as he came with her and thrust so hard he nearly pounded her into the wall. Savage and sublime at the same time.
It left her aching when it ended—physically and mentally. Her palms hurt from scraping against stone. Her shoulder stung from Jean-Paul’s bite. Her pussy felt sore even as it continued sending aftershocks around his softening cock. Most of all, her mind screamed that she shouldn’t have enjoyed that.
Jean-Paul had shown her no tenderness. He still didn’t. He slumped against her, breathing hard. Not a sweet word or a gentle touch. He’d truly fucked her the way animals rutted, and yet, he’d given her the most powerful orgasm of her life. How could she not want more of the same? Sex like that could become an opiate.
After a bit, he sighed and pulled out of her, leaving her sex empty and wet with juices from both of them. He didn’t move away but stood with his hands on her shoulders. Now, they both looked out over the land that had been in his family for generations. The dark garden and the rows of grape vines that had heard their cries of release.
“Ah, bien,” he whispered. “You did well, cherie.”
“Yes.” He kissed the spot he’d bitten. “The mousse au chocolat. Very creative.”
“You mean with Pete.” She looked over her shoulder, but his face lay in darkness too deep for her to read his expression.
“I could tell he enjoyed it tremendously.”
She turned her face away from him. He might as well have just slapped her with that “compliment.” Only a moment ago, he’d climaxed inside her, and he only praised her performance with his friend.
Bastard. He had climaxed, and he’d shouted loudly enough to wake up the dead. Maybe Pete had heard. Maybe the servants had. He could give her the back of his hand with his words, but his animal roar told the truth. He’d come as hard as she had. He only wanted to deny it for some reason.
She smoothed her hair and walked away from him without a word.
By the way, I’ll be having a new release out next month, EarthCon: Hooked Up from Changeling Press. That means, someone on my mailing list will win my latest knitting project.
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