Memoirs of Lady Montrose by Virginnia DeParte Read Free Book Online Page B

thighs.
    “Let’s try some fairy dust,” he said. “You’ll enjoy this, I promise.” He stroked her clit with a quick slide of his finger, then dipped it into her cunt. His fingertips rested on her anus and one slid in, deeper, gently, to a place never touched, its path eased by the rose oil. She stiffened. It hadn’t hurt at all, in fact the fullness rather appealed. He withdrew his finger and left behind a soft thrum of sensation that puzzled her.
    Had he spread something on her? While she wondered what he could have done, an unbelievable sensation overwhelmed her with the force of a train crash. Her clit rose in delight. Her labia thrummed and her sphincter tightened and clamped with a prickly thrill that travelled up her spine. She became consumed with the wonders of fairy dust and barely registered it when he swung her down to stand on the floor. Wrapped in her rainbow climax, she leant forward to rest her breasts on the bed and reached back to grab him, any part of him she could find. Demanding he fill her need she grasped his thighs and clenched her hands on his muscles.
    A rattle of paper once more then his cock slid into her cunt and caused her heat to spasm. Each push of his hard shaft gave her great pleasure. Her eyes were open but she registered only red and purple floral bursts. Her spine quivered with delicious spasms and trails of tickling ran up and down her limbs.
    And her clit, dear God, her clit! She moved her arms down between his legs and grasped his balls. “Suck me,” she begged. He dropped to his knees and the soft laps of his tongue drove her to another height. She lost herself in the shimmering climax that went on and on. Her bones melted. Her voice erupted from her throat in shouts of delight. She had no strength to move and lived in the moment, shuddering with joyous uttering. He obliged her until she stopped quivering minutes later absolutely sated.
    Exhausted, they lay spread-eagled on the bed until he covered her with the top sheet then left.
    For an hour or so, she slept. Never had she experienced such sensations. She relived her shouts of joy, the exquisite tingling, the rollercoaster of climax after climax and indescribable pleasure.
     She couldn’t wait to try it again. While bathing, she hoped he would return at any moment and begin once more. He didn’t. It seemed even Mortlock had a physical limit.
     

Chapter Eight
     
     
     
    “What did he call it?” Henry’s voice had a hard edge.
    “Fairy dust.”
    “Fairy dust be damned. More like cocaine.” Henry rose from his chair and paced the room. “I’ll ruin the bastard. How dare he try and get my wife addicted to cocaine.” He stopped and wheeled to look at her. His reaction, so unexpected, stunned her.
    She realised her jaw hung open and closed her mouth. How could she have been so naïve?
    “Darling”—he came to her—“I’m not angry with you.” He cradled her in his arms, sitting beside her on the sofa. “Mortlock wants to get you addicted so he’ll have a greater hold over both of us. You would only be able to get it through him and he could then make you do anything.”
    Mortlock’s betrayal of her trust caused a wave of rage to rise in her chest and tears welled in her eyes. A sob of anger escaped her throat. Shame swamped her like a black tide. She should have asked? Instead she’d listened to his honeyed assurance that she’d like it. Well she had. She’d loved it. No wonder people got addicted.
    “Don’t cry, darling. I’ll fix the little shit.” Henry stroked her hair, his gentle touch curved down to cup her chin, his gaze locked on hers. “You’re not to see him again. Ever.” She closed her eyes.
    “Until I get this sorted I want you to go to Scotland with Charlotte, perhaps tomorrow, or if not then, as soon as you can.”
     She nodded. “Anything you say, Henry, anything.” She clasped his hand and kissed his fingers. “How will you fix this, Henry? What can you do?”
    “I’ll