In the Flesh by Portia Da Costa Read Free Book Online Page A

against the door. It was hard and uncomfortable against her upper spine, but she barely felt it.
    All she could think about, all she could feel, every last thought and notion in her head—all were subsumed to the demands of her aching sex. She moaned out loud when Ritchie found her with his fingertips, effortlessly parting the silky curls and reaching the heart of the matter. Her hips churned when he settled on the little button of flesh there and began to manipulate it in a slow, lazy rhythm.
    Her petticoats fell over his arm as he touched her. Beatrice could no longer hold on to them, only on to him. She flung her arms around his neck, gripping hard, as if he were her rock in a wild sea and she would drown if she didn’t maintain her purchase. Her legs worked and kicked, her hips rocked and jerked and circled. But still Ritchie fondled her, not missing a single beat.
    One long groan issued from her throat, the sound so bizarre and unusual to her own ears that it could have been the cry of a ghoul or some other phantom.
    “Do you touch yourself often, Beatrice?”
    No! No gently bred woman should admit to that!
    But she did do it—yes, she did—in her quiet, lonely bed.
    “Answer me! If you admit to stroking your own clitoris, I’ll double that annuity.”
    Beatrice bit her lips, trying to stifle the uncouth sounds she couldn’t stop making. He might command her flesh, but he couldn’t make her utter such personal revelations. Not even for ten times the allowance!
    “Don’t fight me, my sweet girl. Don’t fight me. I only want to pleasure you and to hear you describe your private games.” He kissed her neck again, his hot tongue gliding over her skin as his finger slid around and around below.
    Beatrice started to whimper again, tossing her head. She might cry and shriek and wail like an animal, but she would not speak the revealing words he wanted.
    “So that’s how it is, eh?” He laughed, his husky voice seeming to dance where his fingers flicked and played. “Perhaps another time then? For the moment, I’ll simply make you spend.”
    He circled faster. And as she latched on harder to him, with both arms clasped around his neck, he burrowed beneath her skirts with his other hand, sneaking it into her drawers at the back.
    Oh no! Oh no! Please, no!
    The thoughts were nonsense. Her whole mind was nonsense. But her body knew what it wanted, what it enjoyed.
    When he stroked the rounds of her bottom, and the tender groove between them, she arched like a steel bow and reached her pinnacle. Waves of pleasure pulsed through her belly, and her clitoris beat like a little heart, jumping and throbbing beneath Ritchie’s clever fingertip.
    Half out of her senses, Beatrice thrashed and jerked about, holding on hard, and when the pleasure crested again, she buried her face in Ritchie’s neck, her mouth against his collar, her teeth closing and nipping at his skin. He let out a curse, but he laughed, still working on her.
    “Enough, oh, I beg you…please, enough,” gasped Beatrice. Perspiration was soaking her chemise, her skin felt like fire, and she was sure that any moment she was going to faint clean away. Her own cautious experimental touches had yielded some delicious little flurries of fulfillment, but nothing like this, oh no, nothing like this. And exquisite as it was, she wasn’t sure if she could survive much more right now.
    “Are you sure? Are you really sure?” Ritchie was gasping too, his voice broken as if he’d run a dozen miles without breaking his stride, “A woman like you must be capable of infinite sensuality.”
    A woman like you?
    As his hands withdrew with a last affectionate pat or two, Beatrice was deposited rudely back into the world of actions and their consequences with a ringing thud. She was angry with Ritchie, but angrier by far with both Eustace and herself.
    Mostly with herself. For her own gullibility, and her incautious pursuit of a little affection. If she’d been more