Author: | Valentine Tyron | ISBN: | 9781498965507 |
Publisher: | Valentine Tyron | Publication: | May 1, 2014 |
Imprint: | Language: | English |
Author: | Valentine Tyron |
ISBN: | 9781498965507 |
Publisher: | Valentine Tyron |
Publication: | May 1, 2014 |
Imprint: | |
Language: | English |
A masquerade is the perfect place for a lady to let down her hair a little - but Jane gets more than she bargains for, as a night of harmless pleasure becomes a night of lost virtue and delicious ecstasy...
EXPLICIT: this short erotic story contains explicit heterosexual sex, with a virgin being treated like a whore by a stranger.
Excerpt: This was exactly why young ladies did not go unchaperoned, she realised through the mist of sensation. At any moment, some man might spring upon one, and ignite one's baser urges, leaving a young lady abandoned, helpless, in the arms of a rogue.
He released her wrists to wrap his arms around her waist, and she decided she should slap him, but somehow her hand only rose to clutch at his sleeve. He was very strong; she was barely supporting her own weight, her knees were so weak. He held her as if she weighed no more than air.
"Stop," she murmured, and when she lifted her hand again it settled on his neck, the strip of skin between his collar and his short-cropped hair.
"Nonsense," he muttered, and bit her shoulder as if in punishment, the sharp sting of pain making her shudder. She was all heat, now, aching for more of his strong hands and insistent mouth.
A masquerade is the perfect place for a lady to let down her hair a little - but Jane gets more than she bargains for, as a night of harmless pleasure becomes a night of lost virtue and delicious ecstasy...
EXPLICIT: this short erotic story contains explicit heterosexual sex, with a virgin being treated like a whore by a stranger.
Excerpt: This was exactly why young ladies did not go unchaperoned, she realised through the mist of sensation. At any moment, some man might spring upon one, and ignite one's baser urges, leaving a young lady abandoned, helpless, in the arms of a rogue.
He released her wrists to wrap his arms around her waist, and she decided she should slap him, but somehow her hand only rose to clutch at his sleeve. He was very strong; she was barely supporting her own weight, her knees were so weak. He held her as if she weighed no more than air.
"Stop," she murmured, and when she lifted her hand again it settled on his neck, the strip of skin between his collar and his short-cropped hair.
"Nonsense," he muttered, and bit her shoulder as if in punishment, the sharp sting of pain making her shudder. She was all heat, now, aching for more of his strong hands and insistent mouth.