Wicked Deeds on a Winter Night

“Great,” he murmured, pressing a brief kiss to her lips.

When he tried to withdraw, she captured his mouth with hers in a more sensual kiss, sliding her tongue against his.

“You greedy minx,” he said with a teasing kiss. “How with so little effort you captivate me.”

“Magic perhaps,” she said with a light laugh, loving his playful nature.

“Must be, for I’m bewitched.”

“Tomorrow I’ll be Mrs. Northcote,” she whispered shyly.

Pleasure lit in his eyes. “That you’ll be, and I’ll be the most fortunate man this side of England.”

“Only this side?” she teased.

He smacked a loud kiss on her lips. “What did you think of the rest of the story?”

“Oh Gabriel, it is truly brilliant. I would, however, suggest not allowing Peter to believe even for a second that his Henrietta perished in the fire at the abbey. Surely that it is too heartbreaking."

“They’ll once again find each other, my love.”

"But how? He's caught up in the war, and he'd been stationed in India, and she is a nurse in Edinburgh. Their journey is so exciting, but it feels impossible."

“They’ll meet up again at the Dover’s Inn in Tunbridge Wells, where they first met, and all will be well."

A happy sigh slipped from her. “I do like happy endings,” she murmured, kissing his chin.

He kissed the soft hollow between her shoulder blades and caressed the fullness of her rounded bottom through her day gown. As was their way as lovers, they kissed endlessly as if they could not get enough of each other. His erection rose hard and sure beneath her bottom, and she purred her approval against his lips.

Grabbing her hips, he lifted and positioned her on his lap so that she straddled him, her thighs bracketing the outside of his. He hiked her day gown with one hand, pushing them up to her legs and reaching beneath to find the heart of her through the slit of her drawers. He tapped a finger on her clitoris, those small tender strikes burning her with wanton cravings.

“Has your sweet cunt been missing me?”

A dark thrill skated down her spine and anticipation heated her blood. “Desperately, my insatiable stallion,” she purred. Since their night of untamed loving back at Sancrest Manor, he had been quite gentlemanly with his passions. Tender, sweet, rocking into her with lazy strokes each night which still had the power to sweep her to agonizing pleasure but lacking the dark wickedness which had flowed between them that first night. “I miss your filthy mouth,” she confessed softly.

She felt the pulse of his cock as it jerked in his pants. With surprising swiftness he had her from his lap, standing, her back to his. There he kissed her neck, tenderly.

“How do you want me to love you tonight?” his voice was a low murmur of need, and a thrill went through her.

The blush rising through her body surprised her, and she bit her lips. She felt the curve of his mouth against her neck.

"Shall I pummel your pussy with my cock and fuck you until sitting would be a delicate exercise for you, is that what you want, my darling?"

Primrose trembled, a wanton heat flaring through her entire body.

He turned her to face him, his gaze kissing over her face with possessive intensity. “I can see that sweet, perfect harlot staring at me through these beautiful eyes.” He dragged his thumb over her lips roughly, his voice a gravelly rasp of lust. "You're in a mood for your pussy to be broken, aren't you…and I'm in the mood to give it to you."

His words were wicked and sensual, yet his touch was so tender.

He challenged her to understand his desires and to explore those awakening in her wanton heart. Primrose tipped on her toes, leaned in, and licked along the seam of his lips. “Tonight I want it all,” she whispered achingly. “Love me sweetly, ravish me, break me, fuck me and let me feel the tender hurt in my cunt days after you’ve had me. ”

His groan of approval and want whispered through the air. With shaking fingers, her lover started to undo the devilish rows of buttons on her day dress. Impatient arousal bit at her, but her lover was enticingly slow, peppering kisses over her lips with each button undone. Parting her gown, he lowered his lips and licked along the plump flesh of her breast, right above the top bone of her corset. He unlaced her, tugging at each string sensually slow, kissing her deeply the entire time.

Primrose was a quiver of sensation by the time her lover had finished undressing her. Leaving her only in her white stockings, he lowered himself back in the chair and tugged her into his lap, adjusting her legs over the wide wooden arms of the chair. Her cunny was open and vulnerable to his hungry gaze.

With deliberate movements, he unpinned her hair so that the curtain of her hair fell around them in cascading waves. He flicked a finger over her nipple, and she gasped, arching into the touch. His wicked fingers delved lower, finding the hot, wet heart of her. Three fingers suddenly speared inside of her, deep and hard. A cry tore from her throat as pleasure swept through Primrose.

He groaned, and placed a wet kiss on her neck, and then a nip. “You like when I stretch you, don’t you, my wicked, delightful harlot?”