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“For one, mad instant, she thought he planned to kiss her, but instead, he ducked under her chin and nuzzled against her shoulder at the site where her pulse pounded so furiously. A shiver of excitement tore through her, and she swallowed a baffled squeal that could have been either delight or indignation. His lips were heated and soft, and he tenderly kissed against her nape then, to her astonishment, he licked across her skin. She jumped then twirled away, only to end up facing the mirror, with him behind her, and she assessed the two of them, evaluating the differences: his tall to her short, bronzed to fair, brawn to lean. Boldly, he settled his hands on her hips and snuggled her backside against him, and she was assailed by an array of unique anatomical impressions. As though she'd been searching for this man all her life and had finally found him, she ignited with sensation, every pore alert and animated, and her nipples tightened painfully, poking at the towel. The knave immediately noticed how they'd peaked. "I can't wait to have my mouth on you." The declaration kindled cryptic messages, and restlessly, she scrambled to flee---from the unusual fleshly perturbation and from him---but because of their positions, he merely nestled her close and flexed against her. His groin stroked across her bottom in a manner she'd never presumed a man might attempt with a woman. There was a solid ridge along his abdomen that dug into her buttocks, and her traitorous body reacted by squirming to get nearer to it. He appreciated her participation and gripped her firmly, flexing again.”

“Their encounter had been amazing, breathtaking. He'd touched her in ways she'd never imagined a man might touch a woman and...it had been wonderful. Shocking, too, but wonderful was the only accurate method of describing it. All these hours later, her body was alive and thrumming with an unfamiliar, exotic energy, as though it had been in hibernation and had just been awakened. Her nipples were alert and aroused from how he'd pinched them. Whenever she shifted about on the bed, the fabric of her nightdress irritatingly rubbed against them and made her wish he was present to fondle them again. He'd suckled against her! With his dark hair splayed across her chest, and his lips wrapped around her breast, he'd looked so beautiful. The episode had been brief and abrupt, but the agitation he'd inflicted with his atrocious teeth and tongue still tormented. Her womanly cleft was overly aggravated, as well, and when he'd caressed her there, she'd been outraged by the intimate penetration of his conniving hand, but not now as she reflected upon it cooly and analytically. His shrewd finger had fit exactly right, had stroked across an itch she hadn't realized needed scratching. Retrospection about him and his indecent gestures caused her to press her thighs together, but the movement inundated her with searing sensation, and she groaned in frustration. Her tender, feminine flesh was moist and swollen, and to her consternation, she wished he was available to continue his maneuvers. Without a doubt, he would be competent to ease her physical woes.”

“She was plainly not prone to sentimental outbursts; one impeccable tear tracked a charming trail down her cheek, and she glanced away. Flustered, she battled to stabilize her breathing and regain control, and he heaved a resigned sigh. The ice around his heart began to melt. Incapable of sustaining his upset, he swiped his hand across her silky skin, capturing the warm moisture on his thumb, then he stuck it in his mouth and sucked at the salty drop. She was out of her league in this residence and with these people; a lamb led to the slaughter.”

“Your skin is so smooth. Like silk." The simple statement disconcerted her. She'd never before received a flattering compliment from a man, especially not an attractive, virile, mostly naked one, and as she stumbled for a response, he advanced like a large cat, a graceful, predatory beast like those from the jungles of Africa that she'd seen at an exhibition in London. He was so near that the fist she'd valiantly anchored to her bosom to hold the towel was pressed against his ribs. His skin was warm, and his matting of chest hair tickled the heel of her hand. She tilted away, but the mirror prevented evasion. Though she fought to appear staunch and in control, her dilemma had quickly spiraled beyond her ability to navigate. Anxiously, she licked her bottom lip, which instantly had him studying her mouth as though intent on devouring her. "Sir, you're scaring me." "How?" "I'm not certain why you're here---" "Aren't you?" His words were husky with a dangerous lust that even she, in her sheltered, virginal state, couldn't misconstrue. "---or what you propose..." "You know what I propose. I'll be very gentle if that's how you like it." With a sure finger, he traced down her cheek and across her neck, and his touch was so blistering that she felt as if she'd been burned. She flinched, and he soothed, "You don't need to be afraid.”

“She couldn't tear herself away from his beautiful face, his furred chest, his tight trousers. As usual, the top buttons were unfastened, and her gaze was held captive by the male mysteries buried below. How she craved to see him in the altogether! To run her hands across that marvelous torso! To massage and caress as he permitted his other paramours to indulge themselves on a regular basis!”

“Lovely..." he murmured in an enticing baritone that skittered across her nerve endings and induced her abdomen to clench in response. The peculiar salutation snapped her into action, and she whirled to face him. Nervously, she clutched at the towel, desperately striving to shield herself, but his probing examination slithered over her like a tangible caress, lingering on her lips, her breasts, the juncture between her thighs.”

“His lips grazed her earlobe---deliberately, she was sure---his hand rested on the small of her back, and she was overwhelmed by having him so near. With all the attention leveled their way, they were awkwardly conspicuous in a fashion she hated, so she deigned to act as normally as possible. She gripped the mallet, but just when she would have attempted her initial swing, Mr. Stevens reached around her, effectively trapping her in the circle of his arms. "Permit me to instruct you," he said, and chills sped down her spine. "The game goes like this." Warm and magnetic, the entire front of his body was flattened against the back of hers, and she could feel the solid plane of his chest, the curve of his abdomen as he arched over her, the strength of his legs as he balanced her between them. His groin was directly against her posterior, and the sensation produced an exhilarating swirl of butterflies that cascaded through her stomach. Wrapping her small hands in his large ones, he controlled the arc of the stick as it landed with a firm thump, and their ball careened down the hillside. "Very nice," he murmured, though she was quite sure he wasn't referring to the ball or the swing at all.”

“Pamela, I'm sure you didn't mean any harm, but I intend to keep my husband. If I catch you sniffing around him again, I'll break both your legs. I swear it!" "Oh, God..." Pamela blushed furiously. "Even if he begs, don't meet with him ever again. Don't make this any worse than it already is." "No, I won't, Sarah. I promise you!" "And do me a favor?" "Anything." "Spread the word to his other paramours: I won't have him philandering. He's mine. And I'm not sharing!”

“His cock was throbbing, the crown oozing with his sexual juice. He stabilized her and partook of an unhurried flex against her cleft. As though she'd been poked with a pin, she jerked upright. "Why do you keep doing that?" "Doing what?" He pretended innocence, flattening her against his erection, and feasting with another leisurely flex. "That thrusting motion. It just feels so... so..." "Extraordinary?" "Yes. But naughty, too. And forbidden." She wedged herself more fully along the crest of his phallus. "My body seems to fathom what you propose, when I've no notion myself." "Absolutely." His wanton fingers slipped under the hem of her chemise and petted the smooth skin of her thighs.”

“Looking angry and alive, the attachment was red and distended, with a bulbous head and purple, ropy veins. It protruded from a nest of his dark hair, two sacs dangling beneath, and her visual assessment made it extend out toward her in entreaty. She hazarded a glance at him, and he lay silent and still, studying her with an impersonal, glacial intensity. Had he planned to shock her? To have her tearful and swooning? To send her stumbling from the room in offense and alarm? He was motivated by deep, unfathomable issues that she couldn't hope to understand. The chances were great that he'd merely instigated this as a bizarre diversion in order to gain a response from her, but if the man thought she was some prim, squeamish miss, he obviously didn't know her very well. She was fascinated, enthralled, and ardent to explore. "It's larger than I supposed." "I'm aroused." "It changes size?" Her eyes widened with astonishment, and he chuckled at her naïveté. "Usually, it's flaccid and harmless." Tensing his stomach muscles, the extraordinary appendage inflated even more. "But not when I'm here with you like this. I'm so hard for you. I ache with my desire." There was a husky tone in his voice, a desperation that plucked at her common sense, leaving her reckless and rash, and just then, she'd have performed any impulsive feat he requested.”

“Witch," he grumbled as the woman committed an exploit that caused them both to gasp with a sort of reciprocal anguish. Then... they were moving conjointly, much as one would when riding a horse. The motion went on and on, the lovers more involved, more intense in their enterprise. The woman adjusted herself so that her breasts dangled over Michael's zealous mouth. He pressured, milked, and suckled. Sarah watched to the end, repelled, captivated, discomfited, wanting them to cease immediately, while at the same juncture, never wanting the torrid exhibition to conclude. They reached a mutual goal, a pinnacle, both crying out with a strangled elation, and she felt ashamed and sickened to have witnessed the intense emotion that flared between them, yet she was glad she had. Their pace slackened, the tension abated, the pair relaxed, and Michael rubbed the woman's back. Arrogant and satisfied with himself, he murmured, "Feeling better?" "Oh, Lord... but you utterly kill me when you do that.”