The Call of Her Coochie by Amanda Clover

Author:Amanda Clover [Clover, Amanda]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2023-08-11T16:00:00+00:00

6

The Viscount’s Bed

They passed leaded windows hung with heavy curtains, thick but not quite thick enough to hide the light of dawn breaking. But Sophie’s hope that daybreak might save her was badly disappointed when they arrived at the dark, windowless prison of the viscount’s bedchamber. The flames of a hundred candles hardly quivered in the airless room. A cloying perfume hung in the air as the viscount led Sophie towards the four-poster bed carved of ebony wood.

“Perhaps, um, perhaps I should bathe first, my lord,” said Sophie, feeling unnerved by the smiling mask and the windowless chamber.

The voice that answered her was whisper soft and almost girlishly high.

“No. You have been baptized in the throes of pleasure. Given the sacrament for your sustenance. Come now, my dear. Show me what you have learned from this,” he tittered, “holy revelation.”

The viscount drew back the curtain and revealed an overstuffed terrain of red cushions edged with golden thread and a thick down comforter thrown back to expose silken sheets.

The viscount’s long, gloved fingers trembled as they peeled away the sheet that Sophie had wrapped around her body. He stood nearly a head taller than her and though quite lean she could feel the strength in him as he pried the sheet from her hand and exposed her naked, cum-stained flesh. Her creamy skin marred in a dozen places by scratches and the red splotches of soon-to-be bruises.

The viscount traced her minor injuries with the cool, silky caress of his gloved hands.

“Your flesh is a tapestry of sin,” he whispered, his leering mask brushing against her cheek. “Your body so impure that it almost seems suitable for… Him.”

“Suitable for who?” asked Sophie, daring to turn her face towards the viscount.

“Ah, but you are lost, child,” he said, cradling her cheek and gazing down into her eyes. “Let me show you the way to him.”

The viscount peeled back the mask and revealed a face that was momentarily so hideous that it nearly made Sophie scream. A wet, black, lipless, skeletal thing glistening in the candlelight. But then that image was gone, and she saw that he was handsome beneath his mask. With an arrogant face marked with a dueling scar and a thin mustache on his curling upper lip. His dark eyes seemed somehow crueler without the mask as he wrapped both hands around Sophie’s throat and began to squeeze.

She cried out, striking the iron hardness of his forearms as he pushed her back onto the bed. Choking her, but not strangulating the air from her. His kiss fell upon her lips. His slender body pushed apart Sophie’s sinful thighs. She moaned and struggled beneath him, his tongue long and deft as it plunged into her mouth and danced beyond her lips.

Against all instinct, she relaxed beneath him. She stopped struggling and let him have his desire. He released her throat as he kissed her. His long-fingered hands trailed down her body, gathering her breasts and thumbing the stiff buds of her nipples. She cried out against his lips before his kiss roamed lower.

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