Happy Wednesday, and thanks again to Angelica Dawson for organizing the MidWeekTeases!
This week’s tease comes from my ménage erotica HIGH-RISK FEVER, which I recently re-released with an additional chapter ❤
In this scene, we’re continuing where we left off last week. Anne’s husband questions her in the cellar, about the other guys…
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“Do you know what would happen to me if I lost you?” His voice cracked.
For a second, a cruel rush of sorrow filled her chest.
Yes, I know what that would feel like. I love you, too, Brian.
He released her hair. His strong hands moved to her ass cheeks, cupped them, and with perfect ease, lifted her.
She squealed, helpless to the shelf scraping her spine. Unbalanced, blind, she flapped her arms in the dark before leaning forward and clutching Brian’s shoulders.
With a few adjustments, he positioned the hard bulge in his pants into the crevice of her inner thighs, pressing it against her panties. So ready.
Oh God. The intimate touch made her inner muscles clench with lust.
Did he want to fuck her here? Standing?
“I’ll do anything to keep you.” He buried his face in her cleavage with a choked, guttural sound, his moustache prickling the skin between her breasts.
She didn’t know what to say, could only fight back the warm tears threatening to fill her eyes.
He moved his face in front of hers, quick breaths brushing her lips.
Thank God I can’t see your eyes and what they’re telling me.
“You want to be fucked hard and fast, Anne,” he muttered through gritted teeth, “I’ll fuck you hard and fast.” With no further warning, he dropped her to the floor.
She welcomed the cement underneath her feet and let her hands slide down from his shoulders, grazing the metal buttons of his shirt pockets.
He grabbed her arms, spun her around, and pushed her against the wooden shelves. One met the front of her thighs, another dug into her lower ribs, and the third—on which sat the cartons she brought earlier—provided support for her head.
Tiny, sour-smelling dust particles snuck into her nostrils as she rested her chin atop the solid wood, and she barely held back a sneeze. Fumbling with her hands, she found two vertical pillars on both sides of the shelf and clutched them for balance.
Relentless, Brian brought his hands to her hips, stroking her feminine curves, then lifted her skirt to her waist. He pulled at the lace band of her panties until the fabric slid down her legs. He groaned as he moved a couple of cold, meaty fingers into her wetness and probed around, nails scratching her inner walls.
She gasped from the sudden violation, her cunt gripping his fingers as if welcoming his cock.
“This is what you want, isn’t it?” His face pressed into her back. “You slut.”
Oh, it was the first time he’d said that word.
He removed the fingers, stepped back a little, and the zzzzip of his pants sounded behind her. “My own slut.”
Raw excitement caused her to leak desire for him.
Strong hands grabbed her hips, forcing her back to arch and her ass to point backward. “My own beautiful sweetie.”
He grunted and held her in position while poking his hard cock against her entrance. The tip felt wet, his seminal fluid mixing with her juices. He moved a hand to her abdomen and pulled her closer with quick thrusts of his hips until the large erection, little by little, inched inside her.
She closed her eyes in surrender and rested on the shelf. The rough wood was the only secure, stable thing in her life at this moment, the only thing she could trust would stay.
With small grunts, he pulled out, and in again, each time slamming her ribs against the second shelf. She wanted to build her release together with him, but her arousal contrasted with growing sadness. “I love you, Anne.” His fast, gliding movements made her tunnel walls heat. Ragged breaths and wet, sucking sounds filled the small cellar. “Don’t you see? Don’t you know?”
Yes, I do. She wanted to cry, wanted to apologize, but found no words. Instead, she clutched the wood pillars so tightly, she imagined her knuckles turning white and ground her teeth. Tears snuck out between her closed lids.
Brian’s groans increased with the speed of his thrusts then he seized up behind her with a cry. Hips jerking, he emptied his seed and dug his fingers into her stomach.
“My beautiful!” He buried his face into her back again and sobbed. “My own beautiful baby!”
Copyright @ 2018 Lea Bronsen
Two young and indecently handsome bicyclists visit a village in the French Alps during the summer holidays. Forced by a raging storm to spend the night at the local bed & breakfast, they invade the quiet lives of hostess Anne and her husband, Brian.
A power outage plunges the foursome into darkness, encouraging new liaisons to form, life-long secrets to be unveiled, and steamy lessons to be learned. But once the storm moves on, can the four find a balance and resume their normal lives?
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