Free Spring Wind [Seasonal Winds Book 1] by Charlotte Boyett-Compo Page A

Class Nathan Striker, Milord," Striker replied.
    "A coroner," the Modartha said with a snort. "Not a typical
    feminine occupation."
    Bailey said nothing for she'd not been asked a direct
    question.
    "Do you enjoy playing with dead things, wench?" he
    queried.
    "It is my job, Milord," she answered.
    "Assigned?"
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    Spring Wind [Seasonal Winds Book 1]
    by Charlotte Boyett-Compo
    "Yes, Milord." She drew in a breath for he was so close to
    her she could feel his breath on the nape of her neck and his
    body warmth radiating toward hers.
    "Don't you like playing with live men?"
    She didn't know how to answer that. Her knees felt as
    though they would give out beneath her at any moment and
    she was trembling violently beneath his scrutiny.
    "Do you prefer playing with live women, then?"
    Bailey closed her eyes. "No, Milord. I am not of that bent."
    His voice was low, a sultry caress but steel-hard as she felt
    his lips against the column of her neck. His body made
    contact with hers. "Step into the alley, wench," he ordered
    her. He gave Striker a nasty look. "You stay right where you
    are, diener."
    Striker was trembling too, but he managed to bob his
    head. "Yes, M ... milord," he stammered. He was breathing
    heavily and perspiring copiously with sweat glistening on his
    pale face. He kept his eyes squeezed tightly shut as he
    sensed Bailey moving away from him.
    Terrified of the man behind her, Bailey walked the few feet
    into the shadowy alleyway that ran between two tall
    buildings. She stopped.
    "I didn't tell you to stop, wench. Keep walking," he told her
    in a gruff voice.
    Her mouth dry and her palms slick, she continued deeper
    into the alleyway until he bid her stop.
    "Turn and face the wall," he said.
    Bailey faced the wall.
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    Spring Wind [Seasonal Winds Book 1]
    by Charlotte Boyett-Compo
    "Put your hands above your head—palms flat to the stone,
    fingers spread—then lean into the wall."
    She obeyed him, wincing at the cold and slimy feel of the
    wall.
    "Spread your legs."
    Her bottom lip trembling, she did as he ordered and when
    she felt his hands on her hips she flinched. He used his foot to
    move her legs further apart, his fingers tightening on her hips
    then put his right foot in front of hers making ankle-to-ankle
    contact.
    Standing so his chest touched her back, he put his hands
    over her hands and ran his fingers between hers. His palms
    were dry and warm as they slowly moved down the backs of
    her hands and onto her wrists. He encircled those wrists for a
    moment then released them, dragging his palms down her
    forearms, over the insides of her elbows, along her upper
    arms then turned his hands so his fingers dipped into her
    armpits. He did not just pat the material covering her, he
    crushed it so she felt his fingers exploring under her arm.
    "You're sweating," he said quietly. "I wonder why?"
    His hands slid slowly down her sides then moved toward
    one another at her waist. The sides of his thumbs grazed the
    undersides of her breasts with just enough force to draw the
    globes together and lift them. When the base of each of his
    hands pivoted on her lower chest and his hands turned, she
    knew he was about to cup her. She bit her lip to keep from
    making a sound. With his palms hefting her flesh, he moved
    his hands back and forth under her breasts several times—his
    thumbs not touching her. He squeezed her breasts together—
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    Spring Wind [Seasonal Winds Book 1]
    by Charlotte Boyett-Compo
    held them that way for a moment or two—then ran his
    thumbs down her nipples.
    "Oh," Bailey said, unable to keep the groan from escaping.
    "You like that, wench?" he whispered, his lips at her ear.
    He pushed against her and she felt the hard bulge at the front
    of his uniform trousers.
    "Milord, please," she said, tears forming.
    Through the thin material of her red government-issued
    thigh-high gown, he rolled her nipples between his thumbs
    and index fingers, grinding his erection across her buttocks.
    "Do