Beyond Temptation by Lisette Ashton Page A

from the tortured grimace on his face that he thought his cock was acting like a traitor.
    ‘We so seldom get to play,’ Amelia murmured. ‘Perhaps we ought to do something that would rectify that?’
    Not waiting for his reply, she led him by his cock to the back of the motor home. The door was ajar and from inside she could hear the gentle whisper of Bernice’s sleeping breath.
    The sound reminded her how isolated they were. There was so little background noise that she could hear someone breathing inside a motor home. It was not a phenomenon she had ever encountered in an urban situation.
    Amelia took a moment to enjoy the remoteness of their surroundings.
    Feeling Christian’s cock pulse in her hand, she remembered that there were things for her to do before Yale returned and stopped her tormenting his models. She needed to satisfy her desire to punish Christian.
    ‘Bernice is asleep and we wouldn’t want to wake her,’ Amelia observed. ‘So you will remain quiet for me, won’t you?’
    He nodded, unable to mask his suspicious frown.
    ‘Then bend over and show me your arse,’ she demanded.
    He acted instantaneously. Her fingers slid from his cock and she watched as he bent over, like a naughty schoolboy preparing for the cane. Her smile widened as she glanced along the edge of the gravel-strewn path. For the first time since they arrived at Holbert Manor, Amelia felt her spirits rising.
    She pushed his shirt away from his backside, stroking her fingers uncaringly against the rounded swell of his cheeks. She teased the tip of one finger against the rim of his anus and smiled as he muttered a word of protest.
    ‘I think you preferred
her
,’ Amelia told him.
    ‘No. I never liked her.’
    ‘I think Yale preferred
her
too.’
    Christian shook his head. The gesture was lost on Amelia as she contemplated his backside. But, from the way his shoulders swayed, she guessed he was trying to tell her she was wrong.
    ‘Yale used to fuck her more,’ Amelia reminded him. ‘He used to make her pose as a principal model. I was always his second choice when it came to modelling. She was always his first choice. Doesn’t that tell you which of us was his favourite?’
    ‘He asked you to stay,’ Christian observed. ‘I think that speaks volumes.’
    Amelia sniffed. ‘I think he’d tired of her desire to be dominant. Do you think he’ll get rid of me when I prove too dominant for him?’
    Christian remained tactfully silent.
    Amelia glared at his backside, despising his knack for self-preservation and annoyed by the fact that he was not letting her properly vent her rage. She glanced at the side of the path and wrapped her hand inside the sleeve of her leather jacket.
    She reached down and plucked a flower from the edge of the roadside.
    She knew that Christian had seen what she was doing because she heard him moan. The sound brought the warm thrill of arousal back between her legs.
    It was like the flutter of an angel’s tongue dancing against her clit.
    ‘Bizarre, isn’t it?’ she began, speaking wistfully to herself. ‘The Welsh have their leeks, the Irish have their shamrocks, the English have …’ Her voice trailed off as she realised she had exhausted her knowledge of national symbols. ‘The English have something or other,’ she said quickly, ‘and the Scots have the thistle.’
    Again, Christian moaned.
    Amelia wasn’t listening. ‘They’re quite a pretty flower when you look at them closely,’ she observed. ‘This purple head looks so delicate and feather-like. But you only have to look at the leaves to know how dangerous it can be.’
    Christian shivered.
    His response could have been partly due to the cold. The weather wasn’t the most clement Amelia had ever experienced and the chill had seeped through the denim of her jeans. Christian wore only a shirt and shivered in the frigid breeze. But she doubted it was the weather that caused him to tremble.
    ‘Do you know what I’m going to do