Captivated

He pulled her across the bed and up to her feet.

'Go stand by the window No, the other window.'

Abigail skirted the cupboard and stood uncertainly in front of the surviving window on the opposite side of the door. The open curtains offered neither warmth nor concealment.

Robert deposited a chair in front of the window. 'Sit down.'

Abigail primly sat down with her back toward the light. The wood was cold and hard against skin that was flaming hot and achingly sensitive.

Robert dropped a pillow onto the floor, then dropped down on his knees in front of the chair. He held out the journal.

'Turn to the page you were reading when I walked in on you last night.'

She flipped through the pages. The murky light penetrating the window blurred the print, as if the only thing real in the room was her… and him.

'Have you found it?'

'Yes.'

'Start reading exactly where you left off. But first tell me what happened before, so I can follow the story.'

She cleared her throat. 'The story is called 'La Rose D'Amour; Or the Adventures of a Gentleman in search of Pleasure. Translated from the French.' The man, Louis, is forming aa harem of women, and he has kidnapped Laura, a virgin. When I stopped reading, he was in the process of persuading Laura of the pleasures to be had if she travels with him and allows him to deflower her.'

Robert leaned closer, cocooning her in his body heat. A single drop of desire bridged her knee and his manhood. 'How was Louis persuading Laura?'

Abigail inhaledsmelling him, smelling her. And stared into his stark gray eyes mere inches away from her own. 'He had his finger in her cream jug.'

The expected laughter did not appear, only a blazing heat that took her breath away. Holding her gaze, he grabbed her hips and pulled her forward in the chair until her buttocks were draped over the edge of the seat.

Gasping in surprise, she dropped the journal and grabbed the sides of the wooden seat.

He promptly picked up the journal. Prying her right hand free of the chair, he clasped her fingers around it. 'Read, Abigail.'

It was one thing for Robert to be aware of her collection of erotica; it was an entirely different thing to read it aloud.

'Robert. I really think I would preferyou to read.'

'Not part of the bargain, Abigail.' His voice was as intractable as his expression. 'I want to hearyou.'

'Is that all you want?' she asked tartly.

'No, Abigail, I want far more than thatI want you to share your secret life with me. Tell me when you end a paragraph.'

Licking lips that were suddenly as dry as the paper she was holding, she found the appropriate page and raised the journal to best catch the light. Her breasts bobbed up and down on her stomach with each breath she took. She had a curious feeling of d e j a vu, looking at the black print.

'My desires were excited to the highest pitch. I depicted to her the pleasure she would experience when, after arriving at the chateau, I should deflower her of her virginity, and triumphantly carry off her maidenhead on the head of this, 'dear Laura,' I said, as I took one of her hands and clasped it round my'Abigail took a deep breath, uttered the forbidden word'prick. 'Then,' said I, 'you will know all the joys and pleasures of a real,' ' she took another deep breath, ' 'fuck.' '

Hard, hot, calloused thumbs dug into the tops of her thighs.

Abigail peered over the top of the journal. He was waiting for her.

'I finished the paragraph.'

'Read on.' His voice was dark and low and gravelly.

The fluttering inside her stomach traveled to her heart.

' 'You will then,' I continued,' Abigail read on in a ragged voice that bore little resemblance to her own, ' 'experience all the sweet confusion, far different from what you now feel, of stretching wide apart your thighs to receive man between them, to feel his warm, naked body joined to yours, the delicious preparatory toying with your breasts, the hot kisses lavished on them and on your lips, his roving tongue to force its way between your rosy lips in search of yours, the delicious meeting of them, their rolling about and tickling each other as mine now does yours,' at the same time thrusting my tongue to meet hers.'

Abigail's voice died away on a moan of wind. Heat flooded her body: A mingling of embarrassment and desire.

Without warning, Robert stretched wide her thighs. Cold air invaded her most private parts. It was immediately replaced by heatthe touch of a finger.

'You're wet, Abigail. Is this what happens when you read to yourself?'

She shivered, feeling more exposed than she ever had in her life. 'Yes.'

The hard, naked strength of his body pressed into the vee of her thighs. 'Move the journal.'

She loweredThePearl.

His mouth swooped down on her right breast, scorching hot and wet. It felt as though he was trying to swallow her whole. Hard, hot fingers closed around the soft mound, squeezed it to fit more deeply inside his mouth, while his other hand found her left nipple, a raspy touch of pure fire.

Pain was a sharp intrusion.

Even as Abigail opened her mouth to protest the not quite gentle biting of her nipple, the teeth were gone and his mouth covered hers, still scorching hot, flavored with strawberry jam, brandy, and her.

She inhaled sharply, in response to the gentle twisting of her nipples; in response to the stroke of his tongue against the roof of her mouth.

She forgot aboutThePearl. She forgot about shame. She wrapped her arms around Robert's neck and pulled him closer,closer…

He kissed her and pinched her nipples until she panted and squirmed, on fire for more. When she reached between their bodies to take more, he pulled back.

His lips were shiny wet. 'Read.'

Abigail suddenly realized that whatever Louis said or did to Laura, Robert was going to do to Abigail.

She rapidly scanned the page, found where she had left off.

' 'And then to feel him take his prick, and with the tips of his fingers part the lips of the flesh sheath into which he intends to shove it, putting the head of it between the lips, and gently shoving it in at first, stretching the poor little thing to its utmost extent, till, not without some pain to you, the head is effectually lodged in it. Then, after laying a kiss on your lips, he commences the attack by gently but firmly and steadily shoving into you, increasing his shoves harder and harder, till he thrusts with all his force, causing you to sigh and cry out, he thrusts hard, he gains a little at every move, he forces the barriers, he tears and roots up all your virginal defenses, you cry out for mercy but receive none. His passions are aroused into madness, fire flashes from his eyes, concentrating all his energies for one tremendous thrust, he lunges forward, carries everything before him, and enters the fort by storm, reeking with the blood of his fair enemy, who with a scream of agony yields up her maidenhead to the conqueror, who, having put his victimhor de combat, proceeds to reap the reward of his hard fought and bloody battle.' '

The journal was plucked out of Abigail's nerveless fingers. Eyes wide, she stared down between their bodies.

Robert held his swollen manhood in his right hand. He leaned forward, until she couldn't see it at all, could only feel his calloused fingertips delicately parting her nether lips. Then it was there, the bulbous head, as smooth as a plum and burning hot. Slowly, gently, he rocked forward, prodding her, stretching her, drawing back just before he breached the opening and gained admission. Again. And again. He teased and taunted, prodded and retreated until Abigail could feel her wetness leaking out of her body onto the wooden seat beneath her.

Just when she decided that the game had gone far enough, that he was not Louis and she most decidedly was not Laura, there was a popping sensation and he was inside her, just the head. It felt as big as the fist she had