Enemy Mine by Nia Farrell

Author:Nia Farrell [Farrell, Nia]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Long Branch Books
Published: 2020-06-03T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Five

The lieutenant held himself motionless, save for the lift of his chest with each heaving breath and the throbbing erection that threatened to split her asunder.

“Why?” he demanded to know, sounding more curious than upset that she had led him on. She’d let him think that she knew what she was doing when she had no experience at all.

She looked at him, searching his eyes in the lamplight. “What would you have me say, Sir? I was afraid that you might leave if I told you. The truth of the matter is that things cannot go on as they are. We take in laundry and do mending and I look for work daily, but there is no honest labor to be had. None. I had heard that Madame Beauvais was in need of a cook. The position was filled but she offered me other employment—one that requires wearing a wig and being called Pearl. She expects an answer tomorrow. If I don’t take it, we’ll be begging in the streets to keep from starving. If I do take it, I’ll have no say in who shares my bed. Tonight, I have a choice. I’m choosing to give something precious to the one man who has proven himself worthy of it. Well, I’m not really giving it to you since you have paid good money for it. Please, Sir. For the love of God, have mercy on my soul. Use my body as you will but let me keep my pride. Do not make me beg you to finish what we have started.”

He listened, gave it serious consideration, and nodded almost imperceptibly. Pulling himself up, he fisted her hair and bit her ear, driving in deep and obliterating her maidenhead.

Ophelia was a virgin no more.

She clamped her mouth and tried not to cry. Tears fell anyway and whimpers escaped, forced from her lips by the pain of his possession. To his credit, he held himself suspended above her, giving her body time to adjust. He waited until he heard the telltale release of her pent-up breath before he started to move again.

He kept his strokes short, small nudges in and out until she had stopped crying. He began moving more, slowly at first, building in strength and depth until he was filling her with every stroke, burying himself to the root in her warmth.

Changing position, he came to his knees and lifted her hips to rest on his thighs. Hooking his forearms under her legs, he leaned forward, rolling her into a ball that he could fuck and kiss and suckle. Hips churning, he fastened his mouth on her breast and latched on like a starving man, tormenting her nipple with his teeth and his tongue.

He changed his angle. Her eyes went wide when she felt him hit the “sweet spot” that he’d alluded to earlier. It was sweet. Decidedly, decadently so. He made it his target. Thrusting into her, he aimed for that center of sensation and hit it with a sharpshooter’s precision.

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