Read A Gentlewoman's Dalliance for Free Online Page B

mercilessly.
    â€œMore…more…more,” she chanted, taking all they could give, squirming and bucking and striving toward the magnificent pinnacle, a creature fashioned from love and from pleasure.
    Love and pleasure. Pleasure and love.
    The love for her dear husband, deep and abiding, forged by their life together and a new understanding of each other’s needs, desires and foibles.
    And for their clever new friend?
    Well, not love perhaps, but a strange affection. A regard almost maternal and fond, despite the extreme voluptuousness and perversity of their encounters.
    â€œAh…ah…my dear!”
    Leonard was close, his hips pumping, giving his all. Mary was close, too, and hungry to share his moment of fulfillment. Her fingers clawed again at the edge of the desk and her hips lifted yet higher to meet her husband’s plunges.
    So close. Almost there. Hovering on the very brink.
    Then, oh, oh, wonderful… Even as he dove into ecstasy, losing his control, Leonard shifted his grip on her, freeing a hand. An instant later, Mary felt fingers pressing into her cleft to find the heart of her sensations.
    Her husband shouted, growling out a rough oath as he spent, but still the miraculous fingertip rubbed and circled. Mary kicked her heels and bucked and shouted, howling like a she-cat as she matched her husband’s joy.
    Lost in a white haze of delight, her eyes tight shut, she was aware of nothing but pleasure, her husband’s cock and those gracious male fingers still at work, lifting her higher, higher, yet higher.
    And then, in a moment of revelation that almost made her laugh out loud, she realized that she wasn’t even precisely certain whose fingertip it was that was working between her thighs…but shimmering with bliss, she knew she really didn’t care.
    Â 
    Mary ran her fingers over the newly replenished blotter, aware that her companion was watching her closely. Taking her turn to host the Ladies’ Sewing Circle, it had amused her no end to offer the library as the venue.
    â€œSo, Mary my dear, how have your fared with our friend Benedict the specialist?” inquired Sofia Chamfleur.
    Her innards a-flutter, Mary straightened the leather-backed rectangle for the third or fourth time, unable to contain the images and sensations it evoked.
    The taste of brandy on her tongue, after the maelstrom of ecstasy had finally run its course. Silk against her hot skin, her kimono resumed, covering a body sore yet pulsating with life and well-being.
    In her mind, she saw Leonard’s eyes, filled with hazy repletion and with pride in her and her performance. And Benedict, his serene demeanor shattering as he undid his buttons and pleasured himself in her honor while she and Leonard were still gasping for breath.
    â€œOh, very well indeed, Sofia. I can’t thank you enough for making the introduction.” Snatching her fingers from the blotter, afraid that she’d already piqued her friend’s vivid imagination by touching it at all, she smoothed at her gown instead. It was turning out to be impossible to keep a silly, girlish, self-satisfied grin off her face in this room, and she knew a more sensible person than herself would have chosen to welcome her guests in the parlor instead.
    â€œBoth Mr. Brigstock and I are most impressed with his accomplishments,” she went on, not looking Sofia in the eye, and knowing that her days as a sensible person were long, long gone now, never to return.
    The notorious Madame Chamfleur’s well-shaped brows quirked. There was no hiding anything from her, no prevarication. “Mr. Holcombe speaks highly of his time spent in your company, too. In fact, he remarked that he finds you intriguing, and that you and your dear husband are among the most…shall we say…imaginative and open-minded of all the clients he’s encountered so far. High praise coming from a man of his experience.”
    It was pure