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Authors: Georgia Fox
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something else. Not that his son needed lessons in that , he was quite sure.
He looked at the boy again. "Heels— off the furniture."
Nick frowned. Slowly he took his booted foot off the table.
"And slow down with the drinking," he added.
"Damn it, father. I didn't expect to be lectured by you ."
Cheeky brat. Brandon raised his eyebrows. "That's what fathers are for. That's what they do."
"Yes, but you're not a normal one."
He sighed. "I fear you'll have to take what you've got in this case." Setting his glass on the sideboard, he motioned toward the bedroom. "Excuse me, I need to dress."
The boy stared morosely at his brandy. "I wonder where she disappeared to. Mrs. Kent."
"Perhaps something... came up." He coughed and strode quickly into the bedroom. Rather than close the door all the way, and risk rousing the boy's suspicion, he left it ajar to continue their conversation.
Nick shouted from the couch, "She'd better have a bloody good explanation for the mix-up. Grandfather's paying her a pretty penny."
"I have no doubt she'll come up with something," he called back, slipping off his bathrobe and walking behind the dressing screen.
Drusilla Kent stood there, clutching her clothes and looking cross. Also looking extremely beautiful in her state of dishabille. He tugged the pile of clothing out of her arms and dropped it to the floor.
"Women always have excuses," he shouted louder.
She backed up to the wall and he followed, eyeing her naked body from her tumbled dark hair to her mysteriously knowing eyes and tense mouth, to her cherry nipples, full globes, softly rounded stomach and shaven mound. His hands around her face, he lifted it for another kiss. She could make no sound, no complaint, for fear of his son hearing in the adjoining room. But her mouth was soft and yielding; there was no attempt to stop him. She raised one arm around his neck and kissed him back, her lips opening wider, her tongue caressing his.
"She's a very interesting woman," Nick called out. "I can't quite make her out."
"Hmm." He slid his hands down and lifted her against the wall until she curled her legs around his waist. "Tricky things, women." At this angle her cunt was spread for him, the petals open, exposing her pollen for harvesting by his eager stinger. What a luscious treat this surprising afternoon had turned out to be. He slapped his cockhead against her opened labia and she gasped softly, moving her hips, her legs climbing up his back. The woman was a powder keg and he, apparently, had been the spark she needed after sitting unused for too long. He nudged upward until his crest filled her entrance.
"She's got a beautiful pair of titties," Nick shouted from the other room.
In the process of lowering her onto his erect phallus, Brandon paused. "She's got what?" He stared at the subjects of their discussion, which were, at that moment, directly in his face.
"Titties," Nick hollered back, his voice getting louder as if he approached the room.
Easing her all the way down, prying her smooth cleft open with his cock, he grunted. "I see." Eyes narrowed he glared at her. She put both her arms around his neck now and fluttered her long lashes. "And how would you know about that woman's titties? I thought you'd never met her yet."
"Oh," Nicky laughed lazily, "I met her alright. How do you suppose I came to recommend her services to grandpapa? Have you never heard of Madame Pantoufle and her House of Correction?"
* * * *
Drusilla felt the muscles in his shoulders stiffen. She saw the fire in his eyes. His hands grabbed her bottom and he began moving her up and down on his rod, impaling her over and over, merciless. His body beside hers was so darkly tanned it made her skin look like ivory. She couldn't catch her breath, but hung on with her legs and arms as he angrily ravished her up against the wall of his bedchamber.
He was right about the shaved pudenda, she mused; it did heighten the sensations, made her feel even
He looked at the boy again. "Heels— off the furniture."
Nick frowned. Slowly he took his booted foot off the table.
"And slow down with the drinking," he added.
"Damn it, father. I didn't expect to be lectured by you ."
Cheeky brat. Brandon raised his eyebrows. "That's what fathers are for. That's what they do."
"Yes, but you're not a normal one."
He sighed. "I fear you'll have to take what you've got in this case." Setting his glass on the sideboard, he motioned toward the bedroom. "Excuse me, I need to dress."
The boy stared morosely at his brandy. "I wonder where she disappeared to. Mrs. Kent."
"Perhaps something... came up." He coughed and strode quickly into the bedroom. Rather than close the door all the way, and risk rousing the boy's suspicion, he left it ajar to continue their conversation.
Nick shouted from the couch, "She'd better have a bloody good explanation for the mix-up. Grandfather's paying her a pretty penny."
"I have no doubt she'll come up with something," he called back, slipping off his bathrobe and walking behind the dressing screen.
Drusilla Kent stood there, clutching her clothes and looking cross. Also looking extremely beautiful in her state of dishabille. He tugged the pile of clothing out of her arms and dropped it to the floor.
"Women always have excuses," he shouted louder.
She backed up to the wall and he followed, eyeing her naked body from her tumbled dark hair to her mysteriously knowing eyes and tense mouth, to her cherry nipples, full globes, softly rounded stomach and shaven mound. His hands around her face, he lifted it for another kiss. She could make no sound, no complaint, for fear of his son hearing in the adjoining room. But her mouth was soft and yielding; there was no attempt to stop him. She raised one arm around his neck and kissed him back, her lips opening wider, her tongue caressing his.
"She's a very interesting woman," Nick called out. "I can't quite make her out."
"Hmm." He slid his hands down and lifted her against the wall until she curled her legs around his waist. "Tricky things, women." At this angle her cunt was spread for him, the petals open, exposing her pollen for harvesting by his eager stinger. What a luscious treat this surprising afternoon had turned out to be. He slapped his cockhead against her opened labia and she gasped softly, moving her hips, her legs climbing up his back. The woman was a powder keg and he, apparently, had been the spark she needed after sitting unused for too long. He nudged upward until his crest filled her entrance.
"She's got a beautiful pair of titties," Nick shouted from the other room.
In the process of lowering her onto his erect phallus, Brandon paused. "She's got what?" He stared at the subjects of their discussion, which were, at that moment, directly in his face.
"Titties," Nick hollered back, his voice getting louder as if he approached the room.
Easing her all the way down, prying her smooth cleft open with his cock, he grunted. "I see." Eyes narrowed he glared at her. She put both her arms around his neck now and fluttered her long lashes. "And how would you know about that woman's titties? I thought you'd never met her yet."
"Oh," Nicky laughed lazily, "I met her alright. How do you suppose I came to recommend her services to grandpapa? Have you never heard of Madame Pantoufle and her House of Correction?"
* * * *
Drusilla felt the muscles in his shoulders stiffen. She saw the fire in his eyes. His hands grabbed her bottom and he began moving her up and down on his rod, impaling her over and over, merciless. His body beside hers was so darkly tanned it made her skin look like ivory. She couldn't catch her breath, but hung on with her legs and arms as he angrily ravished her up against the wall of his bedchamber.
He was right about the shaved pudenda, she mused; it did heighten the sensations, made her feel even
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