Retreat From Love by Samantha Kane Read Free Book Online

wasn’t enough anymore. She tried to control her panicked breathing as she thought about the consequences of pursuing a liaison with these two men. Could she risk her heart again?
    She knew that any relationship she had with them was doomed to end sooner rather than later. If she did risk her heart, would she regret it as much as she’d regret letting them go? With equal parts joy and trepidation she realized the answer was no. She could never regret reaching for what she wanted, no matter the consequences.

    What the hell was Brett doing with that glove? Freddy was trying to hide his agitation.
    He knew his cock was hard. He was the Duke of Ashland walking down the bloody road with a hard prick. Come one, come all, and see the desperate duke! He nearly snorted at his predicament. But then Brett pressed another finger into the glove and it turned to an inward groan.
    Freddy had always admired Brett’s hands. Hell, Freddy admired everything about Brett. He wanted everything about Brett. Brett was on a horse every day, in addition to a regimen of various exercises to strengthen his legs and arms, and the calluses on his palms were a result. He didn’t like to wear gloves often. Brett liked to touch things. He liked to explore texture and density and heat with his hands and fingers. Freddy had been tormented untold times by Brett’s hands as they ran over ordinary objects, learning them. Freddy wanted Brett to know him with those hands, to feel him, to learn him.
    He realized his breathing was erratic and he glanced at Anne to see if she’d noticed.
    The only thing Anne was noticing was Brett’s hand in her glove. And to judge by the pebbled nipples jutting out the tight bodice of her dress she was as aroused by it as 27
    Samantha Kane
    Freddy was. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, the tops of her creamy breasts rising above the décolletage of her dress. Freddy had noticed the dress was several seasons out of date, and tight, as if it didn’t fit anymore. Another piece of the puzzle. What was going on in the Goode household? If they had hit hard times, why had they not applied to Freddy for aid?
    Freddy’s thoughts scattered as Brett worked another finger into the glove. He had his thumb and two fingers in it already. Freddy’s cock jumped as he imagined those fingers working their way into him. Anne’s hand fluttered involuntarily at her side and suddenly Freddy had a picture of Brett working his fingers inside Anne while Freddy watched. Then Brett would turn to him, pull his hand away from Anne, wet with her cream, and he’d reach for Freddy… Freddy shivered in spite of the sun’s warmth on his back. God, he could imagine how that would feel, Brett’s fingers inside him wet with Anne’s desire. His cock jumped and he forced the image away. This was not the time or place. He was here to bring Brett and Anne together. He would have no place in their bedroom. The thought was enough to dampen his arousal.
    Suddenly Anne’s hand reached out and touched Brett’s. They all froze, stopping there in the middle of the road. Freddy felt as if he were watching her touch Brett’s cock, the move seemed so intimate. Brett had all but his smallest finger in the glove. It was obvious the leather would never be the same. It was stretched beyond repair.
    Brett’s realization of what he’d been doing brought a blush to his cheeks. “Perhaps I should give this back,” he muttered, trying to peel the too-small glove off his hand.
    Freddy nearly groaned. He imagined Brett sliding his cock out of Anne’s sex as it held him as tightly as her glove. He clamped a lid on his imagination before he could fully visualize Brett’s cock sliding out of Freddy in the same fashion.
    Anne swallowed audibly. Had her imagination led her down the same path? “Yes, perhaps you should,” she said breathlessly. Then her hands joined Brett’s as they began to pull the glove off. Her hands were small and white, delicate. She had long, thin