Read Online Corbin's Fancy by Linda Lael Miller - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Linda Lael Miller
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still she didn’t struggle. “What about you? How would you benefit?”
Jeff laughed and Fancy felt his fingers at the buttons of her bodice. A delicious tremor of terror and need went through her. “How indeed?” he taunted, reaching beneath her dress and camisole to cup one straining breast in his palm.
Fancy groaned as he stroked the nipple, causing it to stand erect. “You don’t have to marry anyone to get that!” she protested.
“I do if I want it all to myself,” he replied. “Marry me, Fancy. Do all your magic in my bed.”
“But you’re not—we’re not in love!”
“True enough. But I can’t have the woman I love, ever. You’ve already worked miracles—maybe you could even make me forget Banner.”
Fancy had never been more wounded. She closed her eyes and wished that she could die. “You let me up, Jeff Corbin. Right now!”
His hand, sweetly tormenting her right breast only a moment before, was now dragging her skirts upward, now sliding intimately along her inner thigh, now undoing the ties that held her drawers in place. He still gripped Fancy’s wrists firmly, though there was no pain, and his mouth was at the breast he had so skillfully prepared for conquering. He circled the taut nipple with the tip of his tongue and simultaneously slid his hand inside her pantaloons to her abdomen.
Fancy arched her back in unwilling response as his fingers found the nest of curls at the junction of her thighs and passed beyond to caress the tiny, swelling treasure hidden there. “You said—ooooh—you said I would b–be too tender—”
He chuckled at her breast, flogged the pulsing nipple with a gifted tongue. “Not for this,” he rasped, and then his fingers were plucking at the moist morsel that guarded her womanhood, causing Fancy to anguish and yet to thrust her legs wide apart so that he could have fuller access. Her reward was a steady, circling caress that made her breath come fast and sent her hips into a frantic dance all their own.
“Jeff—oh, God—Jeff, Jeff!”
Fancy’s soft whimpering drew a groan from him; he bared her other breast and roused its nipple to saucy impertinence with his teeth. But instead of suckling, he talked to her, in low, gruff tones, promising her the most outrageous of erotic pleasures, describing them in detail.
Fancy was overwhelmed by needs he seemed determined to spawn but not grant. Somehow, she got her hands free and they came unerringly to the front of his trousers, making short work of the belt buckle and buttons there. Feverish, she clasped the bared, heated length of his shaft in her hands.
Jeff gasped and then trembled, now her prisoner as she was his. A low moan grated past his lips as she plied his magnificence to an even grander state.
Aware of a new and undreamed-of power, Fancy shifted to her knees, facing him, stroking him in a hand-over-hand motion that made him shudder in a splendid sort of surrender. He bore the pleasure as long as he dared, then thrust Fancy backward, onto the soft orchard grass, hiking up her skirts and disposing of her drawers with a desperate swiftness. Cupping her firm bottom in both hands, he lifted her up and entered her in one searing thrust.
Fancy uttered a gasping whimper, for he had built her to such a pitch of need that her body immediately convulsed in brutal release. This early triumph permitted her yet another new joy—watching the wild passion in Jeff’s face, feeling it play in his body like a symphony.
She slid her hands underneath his shirt, glorying in the warm power of the muscles in his back. Softly, wickedly, she urged him on and on until he cried out in desolation and victory, lunging deep within her andshuddering as she received the fruit of his passion and cradled it within her.
* * *
It was late and the road was dark. The moon, riding high in the sky, was waning, part of it smudged away as if by some celestial finger. At the sound of an approaching wagon, Fancy leaped off to
Jeff laughed and Fancy felt his fingers at the buttons of her bodice. A delicious tremor of terror and need went through her. “How indeed?” he taunted, reaching beneath her dress and camisole to cup one straining breast in his palm.
Fancy groaned as he stroked the nipple, causing it to stand erect. “You don’t have to marry anyone to get that!” she protested.
“I do if I want it all to myself,” he replied. “Marry me, Fancy. Do all your magic in my bed.”
“But you’re not—we’re not in love!”
“True enough. But I can’t have the woman I love, ever. You’ve already worked miracles—maybe you could even make me forget Banner.”
Fancy had never been more wounded. She closed her eyes and wished that she could die. “You let me up, Jeff Corbin. Right now!”
His hand, sweetly tormenting her right breast only a moment before, was now dragging her skirts upward, now sliding intimately along her inner thigh, now undoing the ties that held her drawers in place. He still gripped Fancy’s wrists firmly, though there was no pain, and his mouth was at the breast he had so skillfully prepared for conquering. He circled the taut nipple with the tip of his tongue and simultaneously slid his hand inside her pantaloons to her abdomen.
Fancy arched her back in unwilling response as his fingers found the nest of curls at the junction of her thighs and passed beyond to caress the tiny, swelling treasure hidden there. “You said—ooooh—you said I would b–be too tender—”
He chuckled at her breast, flogged the pulsing nipple with a gifted tongue. “Not for this,” he rasped, and then his fingers were plucking at the moist morsel that guarded her womanhood, causing Fancy to anguish and yet to thrust her legs wide apart so that he could have fuller access. Her reward was a steady, circling caress that made her breath come fast and sent her hips into a frantic dance all their own.
“Jeff—oh, God—Jeff, Jeff!”
Fancy’s soft whimpering drew a groan from him; he bared her other breast and roused its nipple to saucy impertinence with his teeth. But instead of suckling, he talked to her, in low, gruff tones, promising her the most outrageous of erotic pleasures, describing them in detail.
Fancy was overwhelmed by needs he seemed determined to spawn but not grant. Somehow, she got her hands free and they came unerringly to the front of his trousers, making short work of the belt buckle and buttons there. Feverish, she clasped the bared, heated length of his shaft in her hands.
Jeff gasped and then trembled, now her prisoner as she was his. A low moan grated past his lips as she plied his magnificence to an even grander state.
Aware of a new and undreamed-of power, Fancy shifted to her knees, facing him, stroking him in a hand-over-hand motion that made him shudder in a splendid sort of surrender. He bore the pleasure as long as he dared, then thrust Fancy backward, onto the soft orchard grass, hiking up her skirts and disposing of her drawers with a desperate swiftness. Cupping her firm bottom in both hands, he lifted her up and entered her in one searing thrust.
Fancy uttered a gasping whimper, for he had built her to such a pitch of need that her body immediately convulsed in brutal release. This early triumph permitted her yet another new joy—watching the wild passion in Jeff’s face, feeling it play in his body like a symphony.
She slid her hands underneath his shirt, glorying in the warm power of the muscles in his back. Softly, wickedly, she urged him on and on until he cried out in desolation and victory, lunging deep within her andshuddering as she received the fruit of his passion and cradled it within her.
* * *
It was late and the road was dark. The moon, riding high in the sky, was waning, part of it smudged away as if by some celestial finger. At the sound of an approaching wagon, Fancy leaped off to
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