Lady Alexandra's Lover (Sex and the Season #3) - Helen Hardt Page 0,12
I wanted that thick cock inside me.
“Sir,” I gasped, letting his cock fall from my mouth, “I must have your cock in my cunt. Please!”
“You got yours last time, my lady,” said he. “Today I want that lovely mouth around me.”
How could I say no? He had given me such pleasure during our previous engagement. I continued my assault on him, laving the underside of his swollen cock and kissing and licking the knobby head before I took him deeply once more.
“My lady,” he said, breathless, “I fear I’m going to come!”
I nodded, unable to speak with my lips around his thickness. He plunged and grasped the sides of my head, spurting his cream into the back of my throat. I feared I might gag, but held strong, and when he withdrew, I smiled.
He pulled me to my feet and kissed me thoroughly, and Amelia, as our tongues mingled together and I tasted his essence, I could no longer bear it. My quim ached for his tongue, his fingers, his cock…but I was still fully clothed! I couldn’t even reach between my legs to sooth my ache.
Christophe finally broke the kiss, and I took a much-needed breath.
“That was wonderful.” He smiled. “And now, my lady, you shall have your reward.”
Chapter 4
Though Evan’s light touch made her nerves sizzle, Ally drew her hand away. “Show me whatever you have under your toga, then. I’ll not answer your question.”
“I’m sorry,” he said softly.
“Sorry about what? About what you’ve got under your toga? I doubt that’s anything to be sorry about.”
“Stop joking, Alexandra.”
“Who is joking?”
“I’m sorry,” he said again, “that your father struck you.”
So much for keeping her little secret. She was probably an open book. She’d gotten used to the beatings long ago, and now, over two years had passed without any. It had been a wonderful respite. Never again would a man strike her. She’d kill anyone who tried. She’d kill anyone who touched her mother or sister as well. The situation had been rougher on both of them, especially Mama. She’d tried to hide it, but Ally always knew. Sophie, who was two years older, took the brunt of the earl’s anger that wasn’t heaped on their mother until Alexandra put a stop to it. Larger and less fearful, Alexandra began provoking her father on purpose so he steered away from Sophie. Timid, shy little Sophie, who was still sweet and good despite the experience. Not Ally. She’d toughened up. To hell with love. She was marrying Mr. Landon. He was nice enough. He wouldn’t beat her, and if he ever tried… Well, he would wish he hadn’t.
She had no desire to relive any of her experiences with her father. But dratted Evan couldn’t let it go. “Why do you care?” she asked.
“Because I care about you. You’re mine to protect now—”
“Hold on one minute!” Her ire rose. “I’m no one’s to protect, least of all yours. I can take care of myself.”
“You can, can you? What if I’d allowed you to travel to London alone? Where would you be now?”
“I would have taken the rail, like I’d planned.”
“And you’d have been derailed in this storm. You’d most likely be severely injured or worse, dead, right now.”
Ally bit her lip. He was no doubt right. It irked her, but she needed him. And she was glad he was here. “I guess it’s my turn.”
“All right. What is your question?”
“Have you ever been to a brothel?”
Evan stood. “Pardon?”
“You heard me.”
“I’m not answering that. Men and women of our station don’t discuss such things.”
“Bloody hell, we’re dressed in bed linens, Evan. Why stand on ceremony now?”
“I’m not answering.” He fidgeted with his toga.
“No, no!” Ally looked away. She wanted to see it, but the thought scared her senseless. Evan was so handsome, and so well put together… “I’ll ask another question.”
“Fine.” He sat, his lips curving into a saucy grin. “Ask your question.”
“Just so you know, I’ve inferred by your reluctance to answer my previous question that the correct response is affirmative.”
He said nothing, but his nostrils flared. Just a touch, but she noticed. And then the perfect question came to her, darted into her mind as if someone had flipped a switch. She’d take care of that saucy grin with seven little harmless words.
* * *
“Did you see my breasts this morning?”
“I beg your pardon, my lady?”
Sophie looked up from her novel. “Yes, Graves?” she said to the Brighton butler.
“I’m sorry to disturb you, but a wire just came in from