Free Passionate Pleasures by Bertrice Small Page B

deeply, “you are so deliciously tight, my love.”
    “Go deep, and fuck me hard, my prince,” she told him. “That is what I want of you tonight. Good sex. Nothing more.”
    He obliged her and she was shortly weak with her delight as the large and long cock probed her, teased her, brought her to climax. The prince, however, true to his name, remained ever hard. He took her leaning over the sill. On the floor before the blazing hearth. On her back on her bed. He was tireless and masterful. He kissed her lips, her breasts, and every inch of bared skin on her body. He licked and sucked on her various parts until she squealed and begged for mercy.
    Instead he spanked her until she was again begging for mercy. Setting her upright he lowered her onto his massive cock as he sat in a wing-backed chair. She gasped with the delicious sensation and for the first time that night she actually looked into the face of the man who was so magnificently servicing her. Her eyes grew wide with shock and surprise.
    “No!” she said. “You cannot look like this, my prince.”
    “I look the way you want me to look,” he replied. “Now ride me, Rapunzel, so we may both climax this time. Then you must sleep.”
    She felt the thick, long cock throbbing within her. She wanted to climax with him this one final time. She couldn’t help it if he looked like someone she knew. She began to ride him, and very quickly, without warning they both reached a screaming climax.
    “Good night, Rapunzel,” Prince Everhard said.
    Kathryn St. John felt her pleasure washing over her like a warm blanket as she fell into a deep sleep. Her last conscious thought was that she didn’t understand why Prince Everhard had looked like Timothy Blair. Certainly she hadn’t done that deliberately.
    And when she awoke in the morning she was still questioning herself. The prince in her Rapunzel fantasy had always just been a handsome generic man with large genitals. He had never before had the face of anyone she knew, and she didn’t understand it at all.
    She didn’t put the faces of men she knew on her fantasy lovers. For one thing there were no men she desired enough to do so; and for another all the men she knew were taken. Besides, how the hell could she look any man in Egret Pointe in the eye under such circumstances? Well, the Rapunzel fantasy was out for the interim.
    And to add to her discomfort Timothy Blair came to the library that day to borrow a few books. He popped his head into her office to say hello. “You’ve got a terrific popular commercial fiction section,” he said, complimenting her.
    “Best in the state,” Mavis, who had tagged along behind him, said. “Kathy says all fiction has its uses even if it isn’t a classic.”
    “You never know who’ll be considered a classic one day,” Timothy Blair agreed. “Why, Charles Dickens was considered a yellow journalist in his day, and not particularly respected.”
    “I didn’t know that,” Mavis said. “Did you know that, Kathy?”
    There was nothing for it. She was going to have to look up. She felt her cheeks growing warm as she did. “Yes, I did know that, Mavis,” she said in what she hoped passed for a cool and impartial voice. She tried very hard not to look directly at Timothy Blair as she spoke, but to her horror her eyes stared briefly at his crotch before she forced them away. Oh my God! Had he noticed?
    “We have a bestselling romance author here in Egret Pointe. Emilie Shann,” Mavis nattered on. “She’s such a doll. She married her editor a few years ago. They have a cute little boy, and she’s expecting again, twins!”
    “I don’t read romance,” Timothy Blair said.
    “Most men don’t, although there are a few who do,” Mavis told him chattily.
    “Mavis, I have to get this budget straightened out,” Kathryn St. John said. “I don’t mean to be rude, Mr. Blair, but keeping us within our budget is important.”
    “Of course, Miss Kathy,” he responded