Besotted by Georgia le Carre Read Free Book Online Page A

him. What I see in his eyes electrifies me.
    ‘Yeah?’
    He smiles slowly. ‘Yeah.’
    I nod and he swipes the pad of his thumb along my bottom lip. Suddenly he is on my mouth, rough, rough… The bottle goes away from my cheek. I part my thighs and gasp into his mouth when he inserts it into me. Fuck me! Cold and hard and erotic. Very, very erotic. I gape at him.
    He lifts his head and watches me as he puts his hand under my buttocks and lifts me off the bed so I feel the liquid gurgling into me. I want to cover my mouth. ‘Oh!’
    ‘Yes, “Oh”,’ he murmurs, but his breathing is ragged, his eyes liquid and locked on mine. I am riveted by the fiercely masculine flare in his eyes. The light of ownership. He knows that there is nothing he cannot do to me.
    When the bottle is empty he tosses it away.
    ‘What does it feel like?’
    ‘It’s sexy.’ My voice is a hoarse whisper. 
    He laughs wickedly. ‘All illicit trespasses are.’
    Gloriously naked, he reaches for a handful of ice cubes. He runs them over the heated flesh of my sex and inserts them one by one into me, while I squirm helplessly. All of a sudden I feel shy and close my eyes.
    ‘Open your eyes,’ he orders.
    I snap them open and he trains his stare on me.
    ‘This is my cunt,’ he states, his features harsh with lust.
    I swallow and nod, my hands fisting the bed covering.
    ‘I love watching your face when you are like this: helpless, open, bare…mine.’
    He possesses me with his eyes while he continues to stuff me full of ice cubes.
    ‘I want you everyway I can.’ Then he kneels between my legs and begins to drink from my pussy.
    ‘The process is a slow sensual assault. Lick, lick, suck, lick, lick, suck, suck as the cold liquid dribbles out of me. I arch my back.
    ‘Yes, right there… Yes.’
    The sensations are so foreign, the numbing effect of the cubes, his searing tongue, sometimes teeth, the sloshing of the alcohol. It is tireless. It is decadent. It turns me boneless with blind need. I am so caught up in the intense sensations I hardly recognize the high-pitched animal sounds coming out of my mouth.
    ‘We’re going to take it one level higher.’ He lays down beside me. ‘Clench your muscles and come sit on my mouth.’
    Very carefully I sit up and clenching hard I move over to his face and position myself over his mouth. Having to clench my muscles while he is slowly drinking the dribble is strangely unnerving, and filthy, but exquisite. As if there are no barriers between us. He wants everything I’ve got. Even my juices. Suddenly he swoops upwards and catching my sex in a hard suction pulls me down on top of him. He grinds my sex over his mouth.
    I tense so all the liquid does not gush out, but it is impossible to keep control of my body—it starts contracting and spiraling out of control. I come in a gush. I look down and he is greedily gobbling all the liquids that are pouring out of me. I lift my sex away from his mouth and look at him: smeared with alcohol and all my juices. Then he pulls me back down and licks me clean.
    ‘My Lana,’ he says, his eyes glowing possessively.
     
     

Eight
    I return to England inspired by Carbone and decide to cook a feast of senses for Blake. He is given strict instructions to come home early. Two hours ago I fried some rabbit, pancetta, onions, garlic, sage in a pan and tipped a bottle of Sangiovese into it. Once the mixture was simmering I added rosemary, thyme, some sticks of cinnamon, and cloves.
    Now the hare has started to collapse into the sauce, which has become as sticky as runny honey and will nicely coat the handmade rigatoni that Francesca brought in today. I plan to serve this rich, pungent dish with a whole artichoke, slathered in warm olive oil and lemon juice and sprinkled with chopped mint.
    In the oven I have a fresh peach tart to be served with Italian gelato.
    I glance over at Sorab. He is rubbing his eyes. We were down in the park all afternoon and he looks as if he