Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 78100 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78100 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
“I’ll give you more than that.”
He led her to the back corner, past roses and lilies and, oh dear, a patch of ginger. “I wanted to show you this.” He pointed triumphantly to a lemon hanging from the small tree he’d imported in the fall.
“Oh, look at it. Our lemon tree is bearing fruit,” she said, clapping her hands.
He took those hands and clasped them between his, and kissed her hard. It seemed an age ago that he’d kissed her beneath the lemon tree in Townsend’s greenhouse, just after a rabbit’s funeral. That tree had been larger, more established. Full and fruit-laden enough to hide them from the world, but they didn’t have to hide now.
His lips captured hers, reminding her how strong he was, how wonderfully intense he could be. When he let her hands go, she used them to outline the width of his shoulders and breadth of his muscular chest. She wanted to take off his coat and waistcoat and slip her hands up underneath his shirt, but the greenhouse didn’t afford them much privacy. Instead, they used these moments of solitude to embrace and whisper naughty things to one another.
“You’re mine. All of you is mine,” he said, rubbing his palm against her pussy, right through her layers of skirts.
“I want you so badly right now.” She squirmed, whimpering. With a house full of guests, they didn’t have as much time for erotic activities as they were accustomed to. “I wish you could fuck me right here.”
It had taken time for her to get used to using coarse language, but it excited Marlow, so she’d learned not to be coy. He called it love talk and said there was nothing coarse about desiring one’s partner. She became bolder, running her hand up and down his stiff pole, which seemed barely contained by his light trousers. His kiss deepened, became nearly violent. Their tongues pushed and dipped together. “When can I have you?” she pleaded, her quim aching.
“By God, you shall have me now.”
“Now? Here?”
“When you are so wantonly appealing, you give me little choice.”
He was undoing his falls, releasing his thick member. She gripped it, looking about. “What if someone comes?”
“No one is coming but you, darling.”
He braced her back against the tree’s sturdy planter—the leaves rustled slightly—and lifted her skirts just enough to find his way to her wet, slick center. She clung to him as he impaled her, his length sliding deep. She was panicked about being caught, yes, but she also felt delirious with pleasure. He was so large, so satisfying. Her walls gripped him, white-hot sensation flying from her middle out to the rest of her body. Her nipples had gone hard beneath her stays, rubbing against the material as he thrust in her.
“I want you deeper. Faster,” she murmured. “Yes, fuck me.”
With a groan he lifted her right from the ground, one of her legs draped over his arm. She circled him with the other leg and whimpered from the sheer depth of his fucking. He drove hard, so deep inside her she lost all control. She was being too noisy, she knew. He shushed her but she couldn’t help the groaning sounds coming from her mouth. He was right, no one would probably come at this time of day and find them here. The servants worked the greenhouse in the mornings and wouldn’t normally return until evening to select flowers for the dinner table.
God help any servant who entered right now, with them in such carnal and lecherous activity.
“Oh, it feels too good,” she said, hanging onto his shoulders. The singular yellow lemon bobbed in her periphery as she rode his cock. “It feels so full and hot and wonderful.”
“Is this what you wanted?” he asked, egging her on. “What you needed?”
“Yes! Oh, oh. Please!”
He was careful not to disarrange her hair as he grasped her neck, holding her closer, but she made a mess of his, pulling it from its leather tie to fall about his shoulders. Their eyes locked. His were savage with passion. Her pussy clenched from the heat of his regard, and she could feel herself a hair’s breadth from annihilation.
What if someone sees? What if someone comes?
She could not care. Her husband whispered roughly, “Yes. Now. Yes, my wanton.” She reached that apex of feeling, that moment when her body seemed to fall apart into a thousand blissful pieces, all of them shuddering and clenching. The glorious climax lasted long moments while she gripped and milked his thrusting shaft. It was fortunate he had the presence of mind to hold onto her. She’d have fallen otherwise, right back into the massive planter containing their lemon tree.
As for her, she could not be contained. She gasped and contracted upon him again as he surged within her, finding his own completion. Still, he didn’t drop her. Such a wondrous level of erotic skill.