Read Online The Art of Seduction by Katherine O'Neal - Free Book Online
Authors: Katherine O'Neal
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one savage jerk, yanked them down. The air was cool on her exposed sex as he swiftly removed her undergarments and sent them flying to land on her forgotten hat.
Her legs moved to close automatically, but he shot up and stepped between them, arresting her progress. He stood over her and began with calculated motions to undo his trousers.
She watched, transfixed. He pushed aside the expensive material and took himself in hand. Her breath stopped completely. He was magnificent. Revealed this way from the confines of refined clothing and sophisticated bearing, he stood like some primitive beast of pleasure, hard, colossal, divinely shaped. It wasnât the cock of a gentleman. He looked rugged and all man.
âSpread your legs for me,â he instructed, the words sounding exquisite in the richly rolling vowels that seemed to taste every syllable.
She did so unhurriedly, making him wait, feeling utterly exposed as his eyes took in every detail of her, sprawled before him like a Palais Royal whore. She caught the light of appreciation and wanted more. So she drew her legs up so the heels of her boots were on the seat at either side of her, and put her hand where his eyes were avidly feasting.
She was so wet that it startled her. Her fingers grew slippery as she played with the folds, opening them to his view. And now it was his eyes that grew glazed, making her feel depraved and beautiful all at the same time.
He was on her in a single pounce, thrusting her legs back so she was propelled wide open. He lowered himself to her, rubbing the bare clit with the velvety head of his erection, replacing her hands. She cried out in an agony of urgency, ready to explode, curling into him, coaxing him to come inside.
Itâs been so long. Too long.
But, no. It was never like this!
He kept his hands on her legs, holding them widespread. But he eased himself into her slowly, so slowly, one excruciating inch at a time, so she could feel each successive motion, the deliberate easing of himself into her snug warmth, tantalizing, teasing, and yet driving himself in with a resoluteness that said, This is where I belong. As if he wanted her to know, with his measured invasion of her, that this was where he was meant to be.
Sheâd never felt so possessed, so taken, so claimed in all her life. It seemed to her that all the world was suspended in ravishing anticipation.
Needing to hold on to something, she reached her arms back and grabbed on to the top of the seat cushion behind her with both hands, stretching herself before him, shifting her hips up to meet him, to try and take control. To hurry his penetration.
But he felt her designs. As if to show her who was really in command, he drew out until the supple head was teasing her slick opening. Then, with one single ram, he plunged inside.
She cried out and felt his hand clamp itself over her mouth. And then he was plundering her with vigorous thrusts, again and again and again, filling her so completely, so sublimely, that she felt sheâd go insane. He leaned into her, his mouth at her ear, his breath hot and luscious, and said, âGo ahead and scream. You need to scream, donât you? When was the last time a man made you scream?â
She surrendered unequivocally and screamed into his hand. Outside the rumbling coach, Paris passed by. Ladies strolled the streets with parasols perched, and children frolicked with puppies in the parks. But in here, in this lavish, sheltered haven, she was screaming out loud because this manâthis unbelievable manâwas slamming into her like a battering ram and driving her wild.
She came on his cock, spasming on him, around him, consumed by him, engulfing him deeper and deeper, as deeply as it was possible to take him, feeling shivery and glorious, swimming with pleasure, with joy, with life-affirming bliss.
Then she was being moved. Her head was spinning so that she didnât know where he was taking her, and didnât
Her legs moved to close automatically, but he shot up and stepped between them, arresting her progress. He stood over her and began with calculated motions to undo his trousers.
She watched, transfixed. He pushed aside the expensive material and took himself in hand. Her breath stopped completely. He was magnificent. Revealed this way from the confines of refined clothing and sophisticated bearing, he stood like some primitive beast of pleasure, hard, colossal, divinely shaped. It wasnât the cock of a gentleman. He looked rugged and all man.
âSpread your legs for me,â he instructed, the words sounding exquisite in the richly rolling vowels that seemed to taste every syllable.
She did so unhurriedly, making him wait, feeling utterly exposed as his eyes took in every detail of her, sprawled before him like a Palais Royal whore. She caught the light of appreciation and wanted more. So she drew her legs up so the heels of her boots were on the seat at either side of her, and put her hand where his eyes were avidly feasting.
She was so wet that it startled her. Her fingers grew slippery as she played with the folds, opening them to his view. And now it was his eyes that grew glazed, making her feel depraved and beautiful all at the same time.
He was on her in a single pounce, thrusting her legs back so she was propelled wide open. He lowered himself to her, rubbing the bare clit with the velvety head of his erection, replacing her hands. She cried out in an agony of urgency, ready to explode, curling into him, coaxing him to come inside.
Itâs been so long. Too long.
But, no. It was never like this!
He kept his hands on her legs, holding them widespread. But he eased himself into her slowly, so slowly, one excruciating inch at a time, so she could feel each successive motion, the deliberate easing of himself into her snug warmth, tantalizing, teasing, and yet driving himself in with a resoluteness that said, This is where I belong. As if he wanted her to know, with his measured invasion of her, that this was where he was meant to be.
Sheâd never felt so possessed, so taken, so claimed in all her life. It seemed to her that all the world was suspended in ravishing anticipation.
Needing to hold on to something, she reached her arms back and grabbed on to the top of the seat cushion behind her with both hands, stretching herself before him, shifting her hips up to meet him, to try and take control. To hurry his penetration.
But he felt her designs. As if to show her who was really in command, he drew out until the supple head was teasing her slick opening. Then, with one single ram, he plunged inside.
She cried out and felt his hand clamp itself over her mouth. And then he was plundering her with vigorous thrusts, again and again and again, filling her so completely, so sublimely, that she felt sheâd go insane. He leaned into her, his mouth at her ear, his breath hot and luscious, and said, âGo ahead and scream. You need to scream, donât you? When was the last time a man made you scream?â
She surrendered unequivocally and screamed into his hand. Outside the rumbling coach, Paris passed by. Ladies strolled the streets with parasols perched, and children frolicked with puppies in the parks. But in here, in this lavish, sheltered haven, she was screaming out loud because this manâthis unbelievable manâwas slamming into her like a battering ram and driving her wild.
She came on his cock, spasming on him, around him, consumed by him, engulfing him deeper and deeper, as deeply as it was possible to take him, feeling shivery and glorious, swimming with pleasure, with joy, with life-affirming bliss.
Then she was being moved. Her head was spinning so that she didnât know where he was taking her, and didnât
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