Martinique (The Acolyte Book 1)

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Book: Read Martinique (The Acolyte Book 1) for Free Online
Authors: Stevie Prescott
go on cajoling and whining, in a way that began to cause me distaste.
    Still, I let him lead me to the cove, where in the dusk that was falling, within one of the maze-like passages, we would be seen by no one.
    Eagerly he stripped off his breeches, and propelled me to the ground in a fashion that was just short of being pushed. I did glimpse his erection, hardly impressive compared to my father's, but then again, I thought, perhaps all for the best, this being my first time. Before I could say anything he was on top of me. He began to kiss me, grinding his mouth against mine, while I waited for him to calm himself a little, praying it would be better then.
    My wrap was still between us, covered in sand and water, and he dragged it away, until I felt only his body over mine. It was the first time anyone's nakedness had ever met my own, and I couldn't help but be excited by it, as he went on kissing me, which was not so pleasant. It surprised me that, being a Frenchman, his kiss was so awkward, and though he tried to put his tongue in my mouth, in truth what he managed far better was to slobber all over me. His lips were terribly chapped, and this, too, made the sensation less than agreeable.
    In the end it didn't matter, for he grew bored with my mouth fairly quickly, falling instead on my breasts, as I'd fully expected, licking and sucking and squeezing. This, too, excited me a little, but only a little, and I felt the slickness rising from inside me, far thicker than the beads of water between my legs. I'd seen the expert way my father had lowered himself over his witch, touching her with driving passion, but with a certain expert skill. Compared to it, Eugène seemed like a greedy child, trying to stuff as much flesh in his hands and mouth as he could.
    Soon, far too soon, he was foraging between my legs, even though I wasn't ready for it. Still, each time he brushed over the crown I drew in an excited breath that he didn't seem to hear. I actually lifted my hips, trying to call his hand back to the place that gave me such pleasure. Instead he was rooting, like a pig in truffles, everywhere but the place I was begging without words for him to touch.
    Breathless, he croaked, "Let me now , Létice," as he continued his quest. There was a rage growing inside me then, an ugly aversion. Remembering what Solange had said to my father, I suppose I thought I might touch some chord of manhood within him by demanding, "Then do it, Eugène! Fuck me!"
    My incendiary words startled him. I heard his indrawn, feverish breath, and he did, indeed, race to obey, increasing his speed, but not his skill. Instead, my words so overheated him that he seemed to grow even clumsier, and more determined, his eager fingers groping me in spasms. But when I opened my legs farther, it must have stretched the passage wide enough for him to find it at last. With a little cry of victory he shoved himself inside me, and to my shock I nearly screamed, the sound only muted by the fact that I choked, as well. I'd known it would hurt. But after all Nana had said about the natural inevitability of it, I hadn't expected that much pain, especially considering the size of the cod doing the ravishing.
    He must have heard me scream, it couldn't have been otherwise, but he behaved as if he hadn't, pumping away madly once he'd found what he sought, until I thought his eyes might roll back in his head. Unlike my father and his whore, he said no word to me, nor did he look at me, as if too overwhelmed by his own sensations to realize someone was lying beneath him, someone still suffering with every thrust, a thing I made clear as my cries continued in time with his hips, all to no avail.
    After a lesser number of strokes than my father had laid on me with the switch, his eyes glazed over, his body stiffening, and I felt the cock inside me begin to throb, until soon a heat spread out in me, one I barely felt through the burning pain. He ground on, slower now but deeper,

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