Naughty Bits 2 by Megan Hart, Saskia Walker, Charlotte Featherstone, Portia Da Costa, Cathryn Fox, Lilli Feisty, Elliot Mabeuse, Jenesi Ash Read Free Book Online

a rather saggy armchair in the corner, a bottle of gin and a glass on the sideboard and a heap of books beside the bed, all with old, well-worn bindings.
    It’s like the cell of some rather libertine type of monk.
    But he won’t be particularly monkish for much longer, if I get my way.
    Christian carries me to the bed, sets me down on it and sits down beside me.
    His face is still a picture of enigmatic emotions, as if there’sa war going on inside him. But at least one part of the battle is quickly resolved, because drawing in a deep breath, he sweeps his hair back to one side and then leans down to kiss me.
    It starts gently, but quickly takes fire, his tongue possessing me face-to-face in a way his cock never has. Adjusting his position without breaking lip contact, he stretches out alongside me, then half over me, reaching for my hand and a lacing his fingers tightly with mine.
    For a long time he just kisses me as if he were fucking me, his tongue diving in, exploring and imprinting its heat on the soft interior of my mouth. I can’t believe how exciting it is, as stirring in its own way as any of the naughty sex games we’ve played. And yet, for all its power, it’s a simple kiss.
    When my jaw is aching and my lips feel full and red and thoroughly marauded, he sits up again, and mutters, “Oh, God, I shouldn’t do this….”
    â€œYes, you should!” I insist, not sure what it is he shouldn’t be doing, but every instinct screaming that if I don’t get it now, I’ll just go mad.
    For a moment, he tips back his head and looks to the somewhat discolored ceiling moldings for inspiration. His sublime hair slides back, accentuating his profile, and giving him the look of a fallen archangel contemplating his sins. And then he swoops back down again and starts undressing me, his hands working deftly at first, and then more frantically. I swear if I didn’t help him, he’d probably have tornmy flimsy knickers to get them off.
    Thunder peals again, and though I don’t cry out, I still can’t help but flinch. Instantly, he’s holding me to him, stroking and cherishing and protecting, his still fully clothed body creating a piquant sensation against my bareness.
    But when the noise from the heavens ebbs, I spring intoaction. I don’t want to be just held. I want to be fucked! I want him inside me, face-to-face, possessing every bit of me.
    And now it’s my turn to tear at clothes, wrenching open his shirt as he first heels off his boots and kicks them away, then fumbling with his belt and his jeans button and struggling to free him from his jeans. Between us we achieve our objective and he sinuously wriggles clear of the restriction of the denim.
    He’s glorious naked. Utter perfection. Long and lean, yet powerful, his enticingly defined chest dusted with a scattering of dark hair. And there’s more of that dark hair clustered below, adorning the base of his belly and the root of his eager, jutting cock.
    He’s everything I’ve ever wanted in a man, and I want to be worthy of him, a graceful, dexterous, intelligent lover.
    But instead, I squeal like a scared kid and hurl myself at him for protection when thunder roars again, right overhead. The crack is so loud I’m convinced the manor has been struck, but it seems not to have been when all Christian does is gather me into his arms and hold me tight against his warm, hard body, stroking my back and murmuring sweet, reassuring bits of nothing.
    The heavens rage and bellow, lightning illuminating the room, even though the obviously ancient and rather shabby curtains are quite thick. One powerful arm still wrapped around me, Christian tugs at the bedclothes—old-fashioned linen sheets, woolen blankets and a quilt on top—and pulls them right up and over our heads, sealing out the light show and some, if not all, of the noise.
    â€œBetter?” he whispers, his voice