Lady Varney's Risqué Business by Cerise Deland Read Free Book Online Page A

before a circular table laden with dishes and platters piled high with offerings. He fed her sugared strawberries and candied walnuts. Slices of cold roast beef, the juices dripping over his fingers, a silent invitation to lick him clean one she did not overlook. He dipped tiny tartlets into chocolate sauce and kissed the excess from her lips. He poured rich red Spanish wine from a jug into one large silver goblet and let her drink from it, then drained it himself. By the time the repast was gone, she was stuffed, and he, hungry still for items not on the table, cleared it with one swipe of his arm. Then he set her on it.
    “My dessert,” he proclaimed then nibbled on her breasts and toyed with her clitoris. “Open wide, my pussy, I need to feast on you again.”
    She let him. Reclining, reveling, moaning at his tender touch, his sweet caring mouth and tongue and teeth over her most sensitive cunny, she sighed and screamed and came once again.
    This time, when he took her in his arms, he took her back to bed and there they slept.
    She awoke, tangled in the sheets and his arms.
    When she blinked, she noticed why she had awakened. The insatiable man was sucking delicately, devilishly on one of her nipples.
    “I cannot resist these,” he declared, his voice rough with sleep. “I had to have a taste before breakfast.”
    Emboldened by all they had shared last night, she ran her hand down his torso to stroke his shaft and roll his balls. She lifted her brows at him. “What’s good for the cock is good for the gander.”
    With narrowing gaze, he asked her mutely if she really meant to emulate his own act.
    She pushed him to his back and with a reverent touch, examined how readily he responded to her offer. His rod grew taller, prouder, fuller even as she watched. The head became purple, a drop of fluid forming at the slit. She never considered this for Henry, but her pussy pulsed and her nipples beaded at the very idea of taking Justin in her mouth. She sank over him, his taste an aphrodisiac to her, making her moan and want and suck him harder. His cock was a luscious piece with soft skin and rigid power.
    He gasped, then pushed her to her back, and in one long drive, he claimed her. Fucked her. Made her his own. Once more in a pounding ecstasy that took her breath away.
    Hours later when she opened her eyes, the sun streamed in the tiny windows of the cottage. Was it afternoon, perhaps?
    She rose from their bed and silently crept out to the larger room. The remnants of their early morning repast stood as a reminder of how he had made love to her there. In haste. And joy. Passionately upon the tiny table.
    And without protection from ruin.
    She pushed that reminder aside. In months to come, there would be enough time to consider her folly here. And deal with it.
    She sought the warmth of the sunshine and opened the door. Naked still, she somehow felt secure from prying eyes. Another measure of how she trusted Justin to have prepared for this tryst so well that no one, not even servants, would intrude.
    She stepped out onto the path and the fragrance of roses surrounded her. At once, she saw why. Here before her stood a dozen or more cuttings of rose bushes. Each was planted in good loam, secured with posts and held to the rods toward the warmth of the sun by tiny ribbons of good hemp.
    She’d not been so dazed by lust last night when Justin brought her here that she was dreaming when she smelled the musk of roses.
    “They will bloom next year I am told,” Justin’s voice reached out to her.
    “Your gardener has done a very good job,” she said as she walked forward to examine the expert cuttings. “What colors will they be, do you know?”
    “I do. Ruby red and virgin white.” He came to stand behind her as she bent to smile at the plants and touch a fingertip to two in turn. “I understand you love those colors best.”
    She tipped up her head, shielded her eyes, trying to see him but failing because his form was