Shifter Romance: BODHI (LOST CREEK SHIFTERS NOVELLAS Book 4) Page 13

  “You didn’t answer my question. Was his kiss better?”

  Jennifer stepped back as he approached her, the same determined look that he had had before. Her mouth was dry, as were her lips.

  “We shouldn’t be doing this. It just isn’t right,” she said, trying her best to believe it herself.

  “That’s ridiculous; if our parents had never met no one would think twice about us being together. I think maybe it’s my turn to give you a kiss again.”

  He said nothing else about her being his stepsister. He seemed as eager to forget that fact as she was. His lips came in contact with hers and there was that instant spark again. Her body remembered him and happily melded against his hard chest.

  Their tongues twisted around each other and his hands explored her body once again. In their heat, he pushed her towards the bed in the middle of the guest room. Jennifer felt the back of her knees hit the mattress. His weight pushed her over and Charles fell down on top of her, his hardness instantly pressing against her mound. His mouth left hers as he started to kiss her neck. Jennifer moaned and wiggled her body underneath him, enticing him to continue his descent.

  “So?” he said, pausing in his ministrations.

  Jennifer looked up at the man over her body and sighed. She felt shy for a second, the intensity of his eyes overwhelming.

  “I have been thinking about you since the day at the wedding. Why did you just take off like that?”

  To be honest, Jennifer didn’t really know why she had run off. She certainly wasn’t going to tell him her best guess though, which was that she thought she had just felt too out of control when she was around him. She had been afraid of what she might do while under his spell. In this moment now though, she found that feeling exhilarating, rather than threatening. She was ready to let go of that control and give in to her body’s yearnings. She would be whatever he needed her to be. Moreover, she would be whatever she wanted to be herself. Screw convention. In that moment, all she wanted was Charles.

  His body and mouth moved lower, nipping at the hardened nipples that poked against the thin material of her dress. His nibbling and sucking tongue, teeth, and lips went from one breast to the other and then slowly moved down her stomach. Her lower abdomen trembled as his hot breathe steamed through the thin fabric of her dress.

  “I love this dress and the color on you, but at this moment I really just want it off,” he said, almost apologetically.

  Jennifer squealed as he pulled the hem up and exposed her from the waist down. She looked past her heaving chest and saw his face start to lower to her sex. All that stood between them was a rather frilly pair of lace panties that almost matched her dress. The red made her feel sexy and the man’s mouth on her nether-lips proved that he seemed to agree.

  Jennifer’s painted nails delved into his hair and scraped along his scalp as he pulled her panties to the side. His breath became hotter and she whimpered when she felt the tip of his tongue lightly pressing against her wet button. His fingers held her open while he pressed harder and made her moan louder. Her hips came up to search for his mouth and when he locked on her engorged nub and started to suck, she bucked underneath him.

  “Yes Charles, oh God.”

  Jennifer was at the precipice and then flying over the edge entirely into oblivion before she knew it. Charles slid a finger inside of her and started to finger-fuck her quickly as her fluid squirted out around his thrusting digit. His name was on her lips, over and over again as he pushed her past pleasure. Her body heaved and contracted until it hurt. Her core was sensitive and even with a finger inside, she wanted more. He relented and pulled back to leave her. Her thighs pulled together as she closed her eyes tightly in her enjoyment of the moment.

  “How do you get this thing off?”

  The man’s voice was strained and Jennifer smiled. Her eyes opened to find him tugging his own shirt off. That, he could accomplish. She sat up and started to pull down her own zipper as best she could. She turned her back to him and he yanked it down the rest of the way. She heard it rip and protested.

  “I’ll buy you ten more, just please get it off!” he laughed.

  She looked back at his desirous eyes and muscled chest. Jennifer felt the same overwhelming need and she quickly pulled the straps off her shoulders. She pushed it down to her waist and looked back at him, giving him an eyeful of her perky young breasts. Charles let out what sounded almost like an animal’s growl as his hands went for his pants. A long thick cock popped out as he pulled them down with a jerk.

  Climbing back on the bed, Charles pushed her over onto her stomach and hands. He grabbed the rest of the dress and pulled it down her thighs, letting it bunch at her knees. He rubbed his hard aching cock several times across her ass and then her soaked pussy before suddenly squeezing it through her spread lips and inside. Charles groaned deep and Jennifer cried out. She was suddenly filled to the brim just as he was engulfed as he planted himself deep inside her hole.

  “Oh, that feels amazing. You feel amazing,” she half moaned and half sang out.

  He pulled out slowly and then pushed forward quickly again, bottoming out inside of her. The dress held her legs together and with her thighs shut, his cock pushed in to new depths she had not felt before. Her thighs pushed together with each stroke and stimulated her inflamed clit. He moved faster inside of her, rutting in and out of her body as he held her hips steady with his powerful hands. Each thrust pushed her face further into the mattress. Her mouth was agape as she moaned into the comforter beneath her prone body. He had to pull her back up several times, as he was literally driving her into and across the bed.

  Charles withdrew his meat from her for a moment and turned her over onto her back. He pulled the dress the rest of the way off of her long legs and then opened her wide. Her little pink pussy taunted him and he bent down to taste her juices once more, before pushing back in with his rod, her calves pinned against his broad shoulders. She let out an involuntary moan with each hard plunge in and then squealed with pleasure as his hand went to the top of her slit to rub.

  “Oh my God, Charles, I’m coming.”

  He didn’t need her warning, as he could feel her hole flooding around his throbbing shaft. Her walls crushed him as he gritted his teeth, trying to draw out their pleasure just a little longer. Watching her face change and feeling her body writhing underneath him was more than he could handle. He bellowed over her high-pitched shrieks, filling her with his seed. Each hot blast made her insides convulse, making him groan and his cock twitch. Thank God they were at the far end of the east wing, she thought absently.

  When it was over, the two laid next to each other in the bed, both covered with a thin sheen of sweat and gasping in large breaths of air. It took Jennifer several minutes to unclench her legs and to open her eyes to her stepbrother. Now he was her lover.

  “Wow,” Jennifer giggled, her hands running over his sweaty chest.

  “Wow is right.”

  He moved down the bed and kissed her bruised lower lips, his hands caressing her belly. His eyes held mischief as he took her rosy tip into his mouth once more.

  “I wish you could always stay here. We could be one big happy family. I could come visit you at night and we could do all sorts of naughty things. Your school is only fifty miles away,” he said with a mischievous smile.

  Jennifer grinned back at him and was about to speak until his mouth moved lower again and she temporarily lost that ability. She said nothing. She didn’t know what to say. This trip was not exactly what she had expected. That was an understatement. She just kept reminding herself that had their parents never met this relationship would be no different than any other. Maybe our parents will get divorced she half hoped. Well, she could dream, but for the time being he was still her stepbrother and she guessed she would just have to take the future one day at a time.

  THE END

  A Twist of Secrets

  A Victorian Mystery Romance

  Jessica S
avage

  Copyright ©2016 by Jessica Savage. All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic of mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Chapter One

  The grey clouds gathered over Highgate cemetery. Even the white stone angels looked forlorn against the thundery skies. It was a day of endings and beginnings. Lady Christabel Montgomery paused for a moment to look at her reflection in the dressing table mirror. A young, white face stared back at her - wide eyed and innocent. The black looked well against her pale skin; a widow’s weeds suited her. Only for a moment did she feel guilty.

  A widow after only two months of marriage - they had been scarcely out of their honeymoon period before the unexpected death of her husband, the late Lord Charles Montgomery. He had been involved in an accident whilst traveling away on business and by the time she had been notified, it was too late even to say goodbye.

  She could not say that her marriage had been built on love; maybe that would have happened eventually. It had, after all, only been early days and she was young. It had been a marriage of convenience and unexpected lust. Christabel had been a naive virgin on her wedding night but had learned quickly. Charles had been a skilled and energetic lover and she had been eager to please her generous benefactor. She had been an orphan with neither prospects nor money of her own; her natural beauty being her only saving grace. The middle aged Charles had been more than happy to take the lovely young woman under his wing and had ached to feel her firm young flesh beneath him. Even without love, they had made the ideal couple. And so, after their first introductions, the unlikely couple were married within two months of meeting, much to the alarm of the rest of the Montgomery family.

  Christabel moved to the window and looked down from the window and onto the small park below. A few black-clothed nannies had ventured forth with their charges, wrapped snugly inside their iron wheeled perambulators; blissfully unaware of the weather outside or of life's constant cares. Black. The color of mourning, the color of nannies, the color of crows and the color of the chimney sweeps she occasionally saw rushing through the smoggy London air.

  Several smart carriages waited outside the house, including the elaborately adorned funeral hearse. Four large black plumed horses wearing full funeral regalia snorted their steamy breath into the bitter morning air. They were all waiting downstairs for her – Charles’ family; impatient for the dreariness to be over so they could get on with their own lives once again.

  She hardly knew them; they were strangers to her. Most of them had been against the marriage in the first place. Lord Charles Montgomery was a wealthy man, everyone knew that, and his family had presumed that they would eventually inherit all of the lands and fine houses he owned with no heir to speak of. Why he had suddenly decided to marry a young woman just old enough to be his daughter they could only guess, but many of the family members felt bitter towards the young interloper. At least now he was dead they could all breathe a sigh of relief – at least there would be no son and heir!

  There was a firm knock and the door opened gently. It was Hannah, her maid. Hannah had been in Christabel’s family since she was just a baby and had looked after her for most of her young life. Christabel noticed that the hair around her old companion’s temple was now greying, but the eyes were still youthful and the face still attractive. She often wondered why the woman had never married.

  She had asked her once, one evening just before she was due to be married to Charles. Returning from a local ball, Hannah had stood behind her, brushing the long black hair that fell luxuriously down to her waist. Hannah had laughed and said that she could never leave Christabel, and if she did who would brush the young girl’s hair each evening? Yet Christabel had noticed a sorrow in the woman’s eyes as she spoke and had never mentioned the subject again.

  “They’re waiting downstairs for you Chrissy.”

  The older woman walked up to Christabel and placed her arms around her young charge for comfort. Her dear mother had died when she was five years old, and ever since then Hannah had acted more as a surrogate mother than a maid, and the two women were close.

  “How are you feeling?”

  “I will be alright Hannah, but I will be glad when this day is over.”

  “You better go down; I will be following on with the rest of the household to the church.”

  Reaching for the hat that sat idly upon the bed, Hannah placed it on top of her mistress’s hair, pinning it in place with a jet encrusted pin, before pulling down the dark veil to hide the pretty features beneath. Two years of wearing black; it seemed a pity for one so young, but that was the requirements for a woman in her position according to Cassel’s manual, the last word on funeral and mourning etiquette.

  Opening the door, Christabel inhaled deeply before walking across the landing and down the grand staircase to the awaiting group in the library. Glad for the veil to hide her emotions, or perhaps more importantly lack of them, she stepped slowly down towards the hall. Stephens, the butler was posted on duty, standing like a sentry against the front door, and as she approached he nodded his head gravely. He wore a black armband as a sign of respect. He had been with Charles for at least forty years and had been extremely loyal.

  Christabel had the feeling he did not approve of her, a young chit of a girl playing at being mistress in the grand house, but if he had felt it, he had not shown it outwardly in any of his actions or words. Occasionally, she had caught him staring at her during dinner and the look had disturbed her, leaving her cold.

  Opening the door to the library, Stephens led her into the room, the babble of voices almost ceasing as the group within stopped their conversations and turned to look at the young widow. Although it was only ten in the morning, the lamps in the room had been lit and the curtains closed, as was the custom. The dim light seemed appropriate. The silence seemed absolute, even the ticking clock had been stopped as a mark of respect for the late master of the house.

  The casket containing his body was now closed and nailed down and lay on a table in the center of the room. She had been expecting to sit with the body, watching over him day and night until the burial, but it hadn’t seemed a fitting duty for such a young widow. The wake had been carried out by members of the household staff, all of whom had reveled in its morbid curiosity.

  At first Christabel didn’t recognize anyone in the room and felt almost a stranger in her own home. The men in their mourning coats and hats, the woman in their crepe and silk, all stood like crows with their beady eyes shining; ready to devour the poor creature.

  “My dear.”

  A tall figure with a long, bushy beard stepped forward to take her hand. It was Edward Montgomery, Charles’ twin and younger brother by a matter of minutes. It was as if those few minutes had always come between them and caused a rift between the two siblings; vital minutes that had left Charles to inherit his father’s estate and leaving Edward with very little. Although identical in looks, Hannah could always tell the two men apart. She couldn't put her finger on it, but it was something in the eyes; a certain coldness in Edward that offset his brother’s warmth and generosity.

  He and his wife Anne were the first to greet her. Like Stephens, they had never approved of her and she had only met them once, briefly at her wedding. Edward was a cold fish with beady, mud-colored eyes that reminded her of the sea at Brighton where she used to holiday with her father. The thought of her dear departed Papa brought a sudden tear to her eye. He had been dead for almost four years, but suddenly her grief seemed raw and recent. Perhaps the sight of the men and women in black had brought back the memory of her father’s funeral? She had been only fourteen-years-old at the time and had worn a plain white dress; a strange contrast to the blackened figures around her. At the funeral tea, served in his large study after the burial, she had felt like
a spectra.

  His palm was clammy as he held her black-gloved hand, the stickiness perceptible through the lace. Charles could be stern on occasion, but his eyes were warm, reflecting his generous spirit; nothing like his cold brother. Anne, in turn, grasped Christabel sharply by the arms in the pretence of a warm embrace, the effect convincing to no one. Christabel had the feeling that she had been the subject of the conversation before entering the room and a conversation that had not been very complimentary. The woman smiled with her mouth, yet her eyes, like her husband’s, remained cold.

  She couldn’t blame them too much. They would have inherited everything if it had not been for her. The will was due to be read the following day and was the main topic of debate amongst the family. Not that she expected much; the lands and the country estate would fall to Edward, but the couple were avaricious and wanted it all

  Arthur Chadwick was the next in line; a cousin of Charles and now serving in the army. He had seemed the most welcoming of the family at first, but had also been the most lascivious. On both of the occasions they had met, he had been drunk and suggestive; even on her wedding day. With his dark eyes and ruffled dark hair he was handsome enough, but too much of a rake; the wild card of the pack. He probably had a wife in every county. His breath was hot on the back of her hand as he pressed it to his lips and kissed it greedily. Hardly the etiquette for a funeral, but no one else seemed to notice or care.

  Suddenly she felt vulnerable, a deer amongst a pack of wolves. Charles had made her aware of her own sexual attractions and now she seemed to see the same look in the eyes of every man she met.