Page 101 of Kathryn

She hesitated a moment, as if she wanted to deny him. But his little sensualist wanted a good fucking just as badly as Gerrit wanted to give her one. And so she raised the gown and petticoats all the way up to the base of her spine.

Gerrit nudged the heel of her emerald-green ankle boot. “Spread your legs.”

Her back stiffened at his abrupt command, and she parted her thighs a miserly few inches.

He shoved a foot between hers, his black leather top boot grotesquely large next to her dainty little ankle boots. “Wider,” he growled, sliding his hand from her bare buttock up over the bunched skirt to her slender shoulders. “And lean forward.” He pressed down. “Yes, like that,” he praised when she immediately bowed over the cabinet.

He fumbled with his buckskins with one hand, freeing his prick while sliding the fingers of his other hand between her spread thighs. “Good God,” he muttered when he encountered her slippery pussy. “You’re soaking wet.”

She made a muffled sound in the back of her throat and began to push up.

“Do you want me to stop?” he asked, his fingers stilling in her slit, the pad of his middle digit just shy of her clitoris. “This is the third and last time I will ask, Kathryn.”

She turned her head and glared at him from the corner of one eye, anger—as well as something else, lust, perhaps?—radiating off her like heat from a bonfire.

“Well?” he demanded, giving her slick bud a tauntingly light caress.

She snarled like a feral cat. “Just get on with it, you—you lout!”

A startled snort slipped out of him, and she twisted around more to get a better look at him. “Are you laughing at me?”

Gerrit bit back his smirk and dredged up the most loutish words he could think of. “Hush, woman!”

Kathryn opened her mouth, no doubt to deliver a proper raking, but Gerrit distracted her by thrusting a finger inside her. She made a most unladylike sound and squeezed him like a vise.

“God, you’re tight,” he groaned, earning another squeeze. Gerrit stroked her slowly, reveling in the hot satiny feel of her before easing in a second digit.

She lifted her hips and spread her thighs to take his fingers deeper, all but begging to be mounted.

Gerrit was so lust-maddened that it took all his self-control not to dispense with readying her and simply bury himself inside her and pump her full of seed to wipe the stench of Ampthill off her, even though he knew the smell was only in his head.

Instead of mounting her like a selfish beast, he worked her carefully and rigorously, until her desire coated his hand. When he could bear it no longer, he leaned low and covered her back with his chest. “Are you ready to take me?”

She pushed her bottom against him, which he decided was a good enough answer, even though the temptation to make her beg for it was strong.

Gerrit withdrew his fingers and rubbed the head of his cock through her drenched sex, stroking her with his crown until she was writhing beneath him.

“Gerrit, please.”

“Please what?”

“I need you ins—”

He entered her in one long slide, not stopping until he was hilted. She squirmed when he kept her fully impaled, and Gerrit snaked a hand beneath her hips and lightly stroked a finger where they were joined. He kept her tightly pinned as he caressed her slick flesh, touching her everywhere but where she needed it most.

She bucked beneath him, or tried to, but she couldn’t move an inch between the weight of his body and the wooden cabinet.

“Please,” she whispered so softly he could barely hear it, her body clenched with need.

“I enjoy hearing you beg, Kathryn,” he said, leaning lower to kiss the back of her slender neck while his slick finger worked the sensitive bundle of nerves. “Is this what you need?”

“Yes,” she sighed, her hips moving in counterpoint to his increasingly hard thrusts.

Gerrit felt the telltale tightening of her sheath right before she exploded. As much as he wanted to make it last and last, he could not entirely forget he was balls deep in his wife in a public inn and so he found his own release a scant moment later. He gave in to sensation and briefly lost track of time, reveling in his orgasm.

When he finally found enough strength to lift his head, he saw he’d fucked the cabinet halfway across the small room. He was also still pressed against his wife, likely crushing her.

Gerrit straightened up before reluctantly withdrawing from her body, tucking himself away as he admired the sight of her reddened, spread buttocks and the slickness coating her thighs. It was a view he could have enjoyed for hours. Instead, he pulled his handkerchief from his pocket and gently cleaned between her thighs.