The Matchmaker by Kay Hooper

and petticoats were rucked up around her waist, her stockinged legs wrapped about his hips, and the fingers of one hand were clenched in his thick hair while her other hand was pressed to her mouth to muffle the sounds she made.
    He had pulled the top of her chemise down to bare her breasts, and the rough cloth of his vest rubbed her tight nipples rhythmically as he heaved on top of her. She hadn't worn her corset; the last time he'd taken her, the unnatural constriction of the garment, combined with his forceful passion, had caused her to faint dead away and left her feeling she'd been nearly broken in half.
    Now, stifling her moans and whimpers, she moved with him the way he'd taught her, lifting and undulating her hips wildly as the unbearable pleasure carried her along on a rising wave. She squealed when the wave peaked, her body stiffening for a long moment and then going limp. Trembling and panting, she dazedly ac cepted his quickening thrusts until, silent as always, he went briefly rigid and then collapsed on her.
    She wrapped her arms around as much of him as she could with a blissful feeling of satisfaction and delicious wickedness as he breathed heavily into her neck. He was so much larger. She scarcely could breathe under his weight, but she loved the sensation of being pinned in place by his body. She loved the way he made her feel.
    It never occurred to her to think there was anything ugly or distasteful about being taken in a smelly stable with her clothing half off and her lover's trousers down around his knees. Months before, she wouldn't have been able to imagine such a thing without a shudder of horrified repugnance, but now it not only seemed perfectly natural, it seemed delightful.
    He lifted his head and then raised himself on his elbows, smiling down at her. "Good?" he murmured.
    "Ummm." She sighed happily, her flushed and sweat ing breasts glistening as they lifted and fell.
    He put his hands on them, kneading slowly, and pressed his loins into hers in tiny, subtle movements. "I'll have you in a bed soon. You'll like that, won't you, honey?"
    "Oh, yes," she said throatily, her eyes drifting half shut as her body responded to his skilled touch. She forced herself to think. "You said it wouldn't be long. You'll divorce your wife, and speak—speak to my par ents. "
    "Soon," he said, lowering his head briefly to tease her stiff nipples with his tongue. "Then we'll be together all the time." His movements against her and inside her became more deliberate.
    She moaned, tension filling her, and her thighs tightened around him convulsively. Rational thought scat tered like leaves in the wind. "I love you," she whispered, arching to thrust her breasts harder into his pleasure-giving hands.
    "I love you too," he murmured, his narrowed gaze intent on her face as he built her arousal slowly and expertly, until she was writhing beneath him and utter ing desperate little pleas. Then he went still, holding himself deep inside her tense, quivering body. "I need you to do something for me. Something important. Will you, honey?"
    "Yes," she gasped, her eyes glazed and wild. "Yes, anything. .. oh, please!"
    "I'll tell you what I want you to do before you leave," he said in his soft, seductive voice. "And you'll do exactly what I say, without questions, and without telling any one. Won't you, baby?"
    "Yes! I will, I promise. Please. .."
    He broke the grip of her legs and withdrew from her, ignoring her whimper of protest. Before she knew what was happening, he had lifted and turned her, his im mense strength handling her slight body easily.
    "Oh! What are you— "
    "You'll like this, honey," he promised softly, pushing her skirt and petticoat up over her back.
    She might have protested again because this, at least, was deeply shocking to her young mind, but his hard flesh sank into her feverish body and his hands were on her aching breasts—and she did like it.
    On her hands and knees with the hay caught in her tangled