them, her knees drawn together. her toes under his buttocks. It was a small tub, not made for more than one person and Thierry's size filled most of it.
Bishop Ravillard's son. She was still trying to accept what he'd told her. She searched his face for similarities. Perhaps there, in the arch of his proud nose. Other than that there was nothing to remind her of the monster who ruled her life for seven years. Fortunately. Thierry was Thierry. There was no one else like him in the world.
The Bishop would think her drowned at sea. She was free at last. The thought made her afraid suddenly. All this time she'd longed for freedom and now she had it, what would she do with it?
Thierry slid his arms under her knees and drew her closer, water sloshing over the sides of the tub.
"You're making a mess, Bonnenfant."
He smiled, lifting her knees higher, carefully placing a leg over each shoulder.
"What are you...?"
His hands cupped her bottom, lifted her forward and then she felt his cock, erect and waiting for her. The lukewarm water made everything slick and supple already and the penetration was easy. From that angle, with her feet dangling over his shoulders, her pussy primed and positioned directly over his manhood, it was also deeper than ever, a thorough possession. She wrapped her arms around his neck and left him take control as he lifted and lowered her on his shaft.
His soft moans bit into her shoulder and she kissed his neck, his ear.
"Just what I needed," he joked gently, "after the day I've had."
She knew the wreck and the loss of his men had shattered him. Vivienne wanted to bring comfort in any way she could. Let the mourning come later; he needed her to take care of him now. He lifted her higher against his body and leaned back. Now her pussy rested on his belly and she felt the broad head of his phallus bobbing against her buttocks, while his hands kneaded her cheeks and his breathing changed to that heady rasp. Her legs slid from his shoulders, down over his arms. She sat straighter and offered her breasts to his mouth. He briefly buried his face between them, kissing and nibbling at her dewy skin. Then he took her right nipple between his lips and suckled, a low purr of delight squeezing out of him. She knew what he really wanted, of course. Her virgin entrance. But for that she'd make him wait until tonight when they would sleep together in the hayloft, masquerading as man and wife. For now she moved her hips, rubbing her pussy over the hard ridges of his stomach.
His sucking became frenzied, his hands trembling around her buttocks. Finally he lowered her again onto his rod. Her nipple slipped from his mouth and he whispered her name as she sank onto him.
* * * *
Looking down into the water, he watched his cock disappear into her cunt, inch by slow inch. Savoring the pleasure, he kept her poised a moment then drew her back up as she was half way down his staff. She tensed, mewling with need, making him smile at her eagerness to be filled and mounted. Once again he proceed to lower her onto his dick, only to pause and raise her, enjoying the tease, suddenly finding his arms were not nearly so tired as he'd thought. The undulating water intensified all sensation, every kiss, every lick seemed repeated all over his body. Time to lower her again a little way. First her pussy lips, spread around his cock, touched the surface on re-entry, then the tiny silken curls of her pubic hair. Again he stopped, raised her a half inch. Then another. Her eyes were wild now, the look in them such as he would see in his horse when he let it out to run in the paddock after the training field. She arched forward. He thought she meant to kiss him and he opened his lips for it, but instead she lowered her head further and bit his nipple. Lightening shot through his body to his cock. That did it. He grunted, pushing his hips upward to meet her, ready to lose himself in that stupendous carnal delight.
Whatever was in
Bishop Ravillard's son. She was still trying to accept what he'd told her. She searched his face for similarities. Perhaps there, in the arch of his proud nose. Other than that there was nothing to remind her of the monster who ruled her life for seven years. Fortunately. Thierry was Thierry. There was no one else like him in the world.
The Bishop would think her drowned at sea. She was free at last. The thought made her afraid suddenly. All this time she'd longed for freedom and now she had it, what would she do with it?
Thierry slid his arms under her knees and drew her closer, water sloshing over the sides of the tub.
"You're making a mess, Bonnenfant."
He smiled, lifting her knees higher, carefully placing a leg over each shoulder.
"What are you...?"
His hands cupped her bottom, lifted her forward and then she felt his cock, erect and waiting for her. The lukewarm water made everything slick and supple already and the penetration was easy. From that angle, with her feet dangling over his shoulders, her pussy primed and positioned directly over his manhood, it was also deeper than ever, a thorough possession. She wrapped her arms around his neck and left him take control as he lifted and lowered her on his shaft.
His soft moans bit into her shoulder and she kissed his neck, his ear.
"Just what I needed," he joked gently, "after the day I've had."
She knew the wreck and the loss of his men had shattered him. Vivienne wanted to bring comfort in any way she could. Let the mourning come later; he needed her to take care of him now. He lifted her higher against his body and leaned back. Now her pussy rested on his belly and she felt the broad head of his phallus bobbing against her buttocks, while his hands kneaded her cheeks and his breathing changed to that heady rasp. Her legs slid from his shoulders, down over his arms. She sat straighter and offered her breasts to his mouth. He briefly buried his face between them, kissing and nibbling at her dewy skin. Then he took her right nipple between his lips and suckled, a low purr of delight squeezing out of him. She knew what he really wanted, of course. Her virgin entrance. But for that she'd make him wait until tonight when they would sleep together in the hayloft, masquerading as man and wife. For now she moved her hips, rubbing her pussy over the hard ridges of his stomach.
His sucking became frenzied, his hands trembling around her buttocks. Finally he lowered her again onto his rod. Her nipple slipped from his mouth and he whispered her name as she sank onto him.
* * * *
Looking down into the water, he watched his cock disappear into her cunt, inch by slow inch. Savoring the pleasure, he kept her poised a moment then drew her back up as she was half way down his staff. She tensed, mewling with need, making him smile at her eagerness to be filled and mounted. Once again he proceed to lower her onto his dick, only to pause and raise her, enjoying the tease, suddenly finding his arms were not nearly so tired as he'd thought. The undulating water intensified all sensation, every kiss, every lick seemed repeated all over his body. Time to lower her again a little way. First her pussy lips, spread around his cock, touched the surface on re-entry, then the tiny silken curls of her pubic hair. Again he stopped, raised her a half inch. Then another. Her eyes were wild now, the look in them such as he would see in his horse when he let it out to run in the paddock after the training field. She arched forward. He thought she meant to kiss him and he opened his lips for it, but instead she lowered her head further and bit his nipple. Lightening shot through his body to his cock. That did it. He grunted, pushing his hips upward to meet her, ready to lose himself in that stupendous carnal delight.
Whatever was in
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