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climbed the stairs while kissing her, his boots echoing through the wide foray.
                  “Left or right?” he asked as he reached the landing.
                  “Left,” she responded breathless.
                  “Here?”
                  “No, two doors down.”
                  Bruce let out an exasperated sigh. Wren watched his face as sexual frustration set in. She could see it in the lines on his forehead and the beads of sweat that snaked through his light brown sideburns. The door was open a crack. Bruce kicked it in with a heavy boot, shutting it behind him with no measure of delicacy. He carried her to the bed, depositing her softly, kissing her once and then rolling her over, onto her belly. Wren giggled as he unleashed a growl.  He stood just long enough to unlace his riding breeches. Looking over her shoulder, she smiled at him. Bruce bent down to kiss the mole on the back of her left shoulder. She blinked as a lock of hair fell over one blue eye. She watched him expectantly, lying there with her fluffy skirts scattered about the coverlet. With both hands he raised her petticoat and pulled her to the edge of the bed. She hadn’t bothered with undergarments. Her tanned bottom was nestled beneath folds and folds of ruffles and lace. His prize lay in waiting, packaged and on display, ready for him to pluck up and take into his possession. He entered her from behind, swiftly. She gasped and clawed at the bed, burying her face in the plush quilts. He groaned as he dove into her again and again and then she began to make a noise akin to purring. She looked over her shoulder, her eyes smoldering with wanton desire.
                  “Oh, Bruce!”
                  “Wren!  My love!” he grumbled between grunts.
                  Wren closed her eyes, loving the way he said her name, the way the ‘n’ lingered on his lips. She was now dripping with desire. Bruce slowed down. She reveled in the excruciatingly beautiful time he took with each thrust, making it worth the beautiful ache that went along with holding back. He reached beneath her, finding her breasts, freeing them. Wren gasped as he palmed them. Her ass rose in answer, giving him full access to her aching nipples. The bed squeaked like a giant mouse with each thrust. Wren was completely lost, mesmerized by the luxurious cadence of their lovemaking. Her fear of waking the servants was soon forgotten.
                  Bruce gripped the sides of her hips and pulled her onto her knees. She clawed at the quilt as he stopped to spank her and palm both cheeks, rubbing and stroking. Wren cried out in pleasure, begging for more. “Oh, please Bruce!”
                  “Tell me how much you like it, my love.”
                  Wren moaned, turning her face into the quilt, raising her ass higher, wanting more of this delicious play. Never had a man spanked her and made her feel so loved, so wanted, so desired. She rather liked this type of punishment. Bruce persisted. “Tell me, Wren. Tell me to spank you,” he whispered into her bent head.
                  Wren lifted her head from the bed, panting with desire, moaning with need. “I love it Bruce! Please, spank me.”
                  “You like it, don’t you?”
                  “Mmm,” she purred.
                  Bruce spanked her harder, leaving a pink palm print on her tanned flesh. The love lashing tingled, making her wetter. She was hot for him. Damp with desire, she throbbed and dripped against his swollen cock. She bucked, begging him to thrust into her again. Bruce chuckled, growing inside of her as she clenched around his erection. He groaned, tossing his head back, squeezing his eyes shut. Wren teased him, clenching, letting go and then bucking her ass back onto his cock, driving him further into her. She pushed