You Belong to My Heart by Nan Ryan Read Free Book Online Page A

reward him properly.
    Now she was seated on her bare heels between his spread legs, teasing at the thrusting, jerking male flesh with her talented tongue. As though he were a stalk of delicious human sugar cane, she licked her languid way from base to tip.
    Over and over again.
    Pausing occasionally to murmur, “You like that, darling? Feel good?”
    “Y-yes…I…I…but…please…”
    “Oh, 1 know,” she whispered, sensing exactly what he wanted her to do next. “Soon, you wicked boy…Very soon now…”
    Finally, when she’d tortured him enough, when she had him so hot and excited he could hardly stand it, she allowed his strong fingers to guide her open mouth down over the bursting head of his blood-filled tumescence. His eyes immediately closed in ecstasy. The rapture was fleeting. After only a few brief seconds of incredible pleasure—not enough to bring him to orgasm—she took her mouth away, lifted her head, tossed her hair back out of her eyes, and smiled evilly at him.
    He couldn’t speak, he was so undone; he moaned and quivered, helpless, in agony, physically hurting.
    “Love me?” she asked, rising onto her knees, raking her nails down his naked chest.
    “Yes, God, yes,” he gasped. “I love you…Pleeeease…”
    Satisfied she had him so aroused he’d never forget her or this night, she quickly lifted her voluminous skirts and petticoats, beneath which she was naked to the waist. She climbed astride him agilely and, looking directly into his eyes, eased herself slowly down on his gleaming, tongue-wet erection.
    “Ahhhhh,” he groaned, grabbed handfuls of her bare buttocks, and went to town.
    In minutes he was climaxing. She swiftly covered his mouth with her own to stifle his deep groans of ecstasy. The tempest finally passed, and she sagged against him tiredly, her head on his shoulder, a tiny little smile of triumph on her lips.
    “Jesus Christ, what are we doing?” He came suddenly to his senses, anxiously urged her up off him. “Someone could walk down here and catch us.”
    She laughed softly, unfazed. “You didn’t seem to mind the danger a minute ago.”
    He pushed her from him, rose his to feet, looked anxiously about, and grabbed his discarded trousers. “Get dressed, Brandy. We have to get back to the party before we’re missed.”
    “Why? So you can dance with that silly child?” She tickled his chest playfully. “You’re wasting your time, Daniel. Mary Ellen Preble has eyes only for Clayton Knight.”
    Daniel Lawton irritably shoved Brandy Templeton’s hand away. Cruelly he said, “Before the summer’s over, she’ll forget that sullen seamstress’s son exists.”
    “Perhaps,” said Brandy, carefully folding her lace-trimmed pantalets into a small, neat square. She reached out, pulled one side of Daniel’s dark evening jacket away from his body, and stuffed the underwear into an inside breast pocket. And she said, “Before this night is over, you’ll forget that spoiled Mary Ellen Preble exists.”
    His trousers back on, his hands at his belt buckle, Daniel Lawton started to smile again. He liked Brandy. He liked her a lot. She was daring and wild and did things to him no other girl would consider. After what they’d just done, it would be fun to go back to the party and dance amid the crowd, knowing she was naked beneath her petticoats, that the insides of her bare thighs were sticky with the residue of their hot loving.
    Brandy was right.
    She probably could make him forget he’d like to get his hands on the beautiful golden-haired Mary Ellen Preble. Chances were Mary Ellen was such a baby, she’d cry and run to Papa if he so much as kissed her.
    Daniel raised his hand, cupped Brandy’s chin in his thumb and forefinger. “You know you’re the only woman for me, Brandy.”
    “You know you’re only the girl for me, Mary.”
    “Well, I can’t help it. I was so worried and jealous when I saw you with her.”
    Clay and Mary Ellen danced together to the