Read Online A Midsummer's Sin by Natasha Blackthorne - Free Book Online
Authors: Natasha Blackthorne
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her.
The sound of the barn door coming open startled her awake.
Thomas stood there, holding a lantern. He was clad in his nightshirt.
She pulled the edges of her wrapper tightly together. “Can’t you give me any peace?”
He walked over and picked up her discarded cup. He sniffed. “Up late, drinking. Is this what you do at Goody Wilson’s whilst she sleeps?”
She frowned at him. “You shameless lecher, who are you to criticise me?”
He dropped the cup. It landed with a dull thud on the packed dirt floor. “You think because I’ve fucked you that you can disrespect me?”
She stuck her tongue out at him.
“By God, I have had enough of your sauciness and your sharp tongue,” he growled the words.
A strange mix of fear and excitement brewed in her belly. He took a step towards her and emotions tingled through her, to the very ends of her fingers and toes. She turned and began to ran.
He wrapped his arm about her waist, stopping her, and pulled her back. He bent and brought his face so close to hers his stumble scraped her cheek. “Oh no, you’re not going anywhere. You temptress. You witch.”
His breath wafted over her, an ethereal kiss. Cider-scented.
“You’ve been drinking yourself!”
“You would lead any man to drunkenness.” He pulled her along. The movement seemed exaggerated. The barn swept dizzily by. He fell back and took her with him, leaving her stomach behind.
Her hands spread over the straw as she lay across him, waiting for the world to stop spinning.
“You crimson-haired witch. They burn witches but I know a better way to tame a witch.”
“Let me go, you bastard.” She gathered her wits enough to push against his arms as he still held her. “I’ve had scores of others, all better men than you.”
She blurted the last words in a heated rush. She’d said it to hurt him. However, it was nothing more than he’d suspected, she was sure.
Something flashed in his eyes and he tightened his grip. Then he laughed down at her, the sound cold and empty. “Truth at last. I knew you for a shameless harlot when I first set eyes on you. In that garish green gown with all your flaming locks clashing against it.”
He rose to a sitting position, quickly rolling and turning her. Once again, the barn spun by until she lay face down over his knees, staring at the dirt floor, her heart pounding.
She tingled all over and her breath began to come harder and faster. He caressed her buttocks through the thinness of her nightwear. Her cunt clenched and wetness seeped from her.
This was…carnal. Sinfully so.
He stopped caressing her and a wave of loss swept over her. She almost cried aloud. His hand made contact with her arse. The smack echoed in the barn. One of the horses nickered in answer. A stinging blossomed on her buttock, an almost pleasant sensation.
Thwack.
Thwack.
Thwack.
His hand landed repeatedly.
Each time, the blows grew a little sharper, stronger. The tingling, stinging sensation changed to outright burning.
He stopped. She wasn’t sure if she were glad or sorry. He pulled her clothing up. Cool air rushed over her burning flesh. His hand came down on her bare flesh again. Fire consumed her. Her blood turned to pure honey and gushed out of her cunt in a torrent of pure aching hunger.
After several more smacks, he ceased and caressed her stinging flesh. “Are you going to behave now like a gentlewoman ought?”
His voice was hoarse, hungry sounding. His desire throbbed like steel beneath her.
He slid his hand between her buttocks, lightly touching her swollen, aching cunt.
Her hips arched of their own volition to make greater contact with his hand. He rubbed her and she found herself jogging her hips to increase the friction. Equal parts pleasure and shame at being bested washed over her. She sobbed with the conflicting feelings. His fingers slid along her wetness until they reached her straining, erect nub. He flicked it and she cried out.
“God, but you are a
The sound of the barn door coming open startled her awake.
Thomas stood there, holding a lantern. He was clad in his nightshirt.
She pulled the edges of her wrapper tightly together. “Can’t you give me any peace?”
He walked over and picked up her discarded cup. He sniffed. “Up late, drinking. Is this what you do at Goody Wilson’s whilst she sleeps?”
She frowned at him. “You shameless lecher, who are you to criticise me?”
He dropped the cup. It landed with a dull thud on the packed dirt floor. “You think because I’ve fucked you that you can disrespect me?”
She stuck her tongue out at him.
“By God, I have had enough of your sauciness and your sharp tongue,” he growled the words.
A strange mix of fear and excitement brewed in her belly. He took a step towards her and emotions tingled through her, to the very ends of her fingers and toes. She turned and began to ran.
He wrapped his arm about her waist, stopping her, and pulled her back. He bent and brought his face so close to hers his stumble scraped her cheek. “Oh no, you’re not going anywhere. You temptress. You witch.”
His breath wafted over her, an ethereal kiss. Cider-scented.
“You’ve been drinking yourself!”
“You would lead any man to drunkenness.” He pulled her along. The movement seemed exaggerated. The barn swept dizzily by. He fell back and took her with him, leaving her stomach behind.
Her hands spread over the straw as she lay across him, waiting for the world to stop spinning.
“You crimson-haired witch. They burn witches but I know a better way to tame a witch.”
“Let me go, you bastard.” She gathered her wits enough to push against his arms as he still held her. “I’ve had scores of others, all better men than you.”
She blurted the last words in a heated rush. She’d said it to hurt him. However, it was nothing more than he’d suspected, she was sure.
Something flashed in his eyes and he tightened his grip. Then he laughed down at her, the sound cold and empty. “Truth at last. I knew you for a shameless harlot when I first set eyes on you. In that garish green gown with all your flaming locks clashing against it.”
He rose to a sitting position, quickly rolling and turning her. Once again, the barn spun by until she lay face down over his knees, staring at the dirt floor, her heart pounding.
She tingled all over and her breath began to come harder and faster. He caressed her buttocks through the thinness of her nightwear. Her cunt clenched and wetness seeped from her.
This was…carnal. Sinfully so.
He stopped caressing her and a wave of loss swept over her. She almost cried aloud. His hand made contact with her arse. The smack echoed in the barn. One of the horses nickered in answer. A stinging blossomed on her buttock, an almost pleasant sensation.
Thwack.
Thwack.
Thwack.
His hand landed repeatedly.
Each time, the blows grew a little sharper, stronger. The tingling, stinging sensation changed to outright burning.
He stopped. She wasn’t sure if she were glad or sorry. He pulled her clothing up. Cool air rushed over her burning flesh. His hand came down on her bare flesh again. Fire consumed her. Her blood turned to pure honey and gushed out of her cunt in a torrent of pure aching hunger.
After several more smacks, he ceased and caressed her stinging flesh. “Are you going to behave now like a gentlewoman ought?”
His voice was hoarse, hungry sounding. His desire throbbed like steel beneath her.
He slid his hand between her buttocks, lightly touching her swollen, aching cunt.
Her hips arched of their own volition to make greater contact with his hand. He rubbed her and she found herself jogging her hips to increase the friction. Equal parts pleasure and shame at being bested washed over her. She sobbed with the conflicting feelings. His fingers slid along her wetness until they reached her straining, erect nub. He flicked it and she cried out.
“God, but you are a
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