Read Engaged in Sin for Free Online

shaft was engulfed in warm heat. In her mouth.
    He closed his eyes. He did it so he wouldn’t remember he could see nothing but a blue-gray nothingness, but instantly he had a vision of the wild black eyes of a terrified boy soldier and a rifle aimed to blow a man’s head off—
    She suckled, and the suction of her hot lips jerked him off the battlefield, back into the present. Back to his study, where he was sprawled on the daybed and she was lavishing her tongue all over his rigid cock. She was remarkable. Of their own accord, his hips began to rock up, seeking to push him deeper into the welcoming wet heat of her mouth and her delectable sucking.
    “God, angel,” he groaned. “It’s good.”
    “Thank mmm.” Her words came out muffled and he had to laugh—a raw bite of a laugh. She had him smoldering, close to bursting into flame.
    Tentatively, he reached down until his hand collided with silky softness. The long mass of her hair. It spilled over his abdomen. With so much pleasure coming from a few inches below, he hadn’t noticed the sweet, tickling sensation.
    He ran his hand lower, until he found a silken curve that had to be her cheek. Gently, he eased her away, and the sensation of sliding past her velvety lips almost made him explode. “Ride me,” he growled. “Ride me hard and fast until you pound everything out of my head.”
    She giggled. He was straining to hear everything, so he detected the demure notes in her light, lovely laugh. The way it was shy rather than bold. She was such an unusual prostitute, with her pretty voice, her proper speech, and her uncertainty.
    Then she wrapped her hand around his shaft and he couldn’t think about anything but the way she held him, the tug as she lifted him upright, the first touch to her silky heat.
    He arched his hips up, needing to thrust deep. Her bottom smacked his thighs as she came down, and he rocked up into her, lifting her high, joining them as tightly as he could.
    He’d begged Cerise to ride him, but he didn’t give her a chance. He did the work. Lifting her to bury his cock to the hilt worked his muscles to the limit. Thrusting made sweat roll down his forehead and coat his chest. He had to do this. Had to thrust like a madman. And know only the sheer delight of sliding his erection deep inside her, of feeling her walls hug him tight, the delicious friction as he withdrew.
    It was heaven. Heaven for a man who’d earned a place in hell for what he’d done.
    Devon laughed as the weight of her bottom jiggled up and down on his spread legs, as she gasped and moaned and cried out. Cerise was a noisy lover. Her shrieks and squeals must be echoing all over the house.
    He loved hearing them. He couldn’t remember the bursts of cannon fire and rifle shot when she squealed and wailed and shouted, “Oh, goodness!”
    Her hands smacked against his chest as she braced herself. Sweet as her voice might be, she rode him with hard, punishing strokes as though she knew, without words, exactly what he needed.
    But he wanted to watch her bosom bounce and her hips move as he rocked her. He hungered to see her face contort with agony as he thrust. Wanted to know the color of her beautifully soft hair. See her eyes as she found pleasure too.
    He yearned to see her, damn it. Hell, how he did.
    Frustration boiled in him. He shut his eyes and made love to her even harder than before. He should be gentler; he should slow down, yet she gripped his shoulders and pounded on him.
    “Yes, Your Grace,” she cried. “I like it hard.”
    Then her hands—it had to be her hands—ran down his thighs and she gripped his bottom. His John Thomas swelled and grew bigger, stiffer, ready to burst. Devon tipped back his head and howled to the heavens above. He wished he could make love to her for the rest of his life. So he never had to think or remember again.
    He wanted to please her. He had to hold on. Fight to last, fight for control so he could make her scream for him in