Free Pure Lust Vol. 2 by M. S. Parker, Cassie Wild

move my feet. Or my eyes. They were locked on the two forms in front of me, mostly hidden by the greenery surrounding them.
    “Flynn, dammit, please!” Those low moans were coming from some unknown brunette and as I licked my lips, she squealed and twisted her hips. I found myself echoing her movements and wishing I was the one over there, bent forward with my weight braced on my hands, with Flynn McCreary driving into me, his gaze locked on my ass as he fucked me hard and fast.
    The woman’s pretty pink dress—and the petticoat—were shoved up over her hips and back. From my position, I had a better view of him than her and it was a lovely view.
    His shirt hung open, pants pushed low, revealing those sexy v-grooves, his flat abdomen, his thick cock…when it wasn’t buried inside whoever the nameless woman was.
    Guilt twisted my gut, because I was torn up inside with envy. I wanted it to be me standing there, bent over and open for his invasion. I wanted to be the one on the receiving end of that intensity, feeling his hands hold me steady as he slowly filled me, then withdrew, only to surge deep inside all over again. Heat pulsed and throbbed inside me and I thought if I reached down and touched myself, I’d come in no time. No time at all.
    She moaned and twisted and writhed.
    He made no sound at all.
    He hadn’t been like that with me.
    He muttered and talked to me, said all sorts of dirty things to me, both praising and damning. His voice had been half the reason I'd come as hard as I had.
    “Flynn, please!”
    Her voice cracked and I felt something twist inside me as he started to drive into her harder and faster. My breathing sped up in response and I bit my lip, sliding my hand down my thigh Then I realized I was toying with the hem of my skirt, drawing it up. No , I told myself. No .
    “Yes…yes…”
    Her raw, low moans followed me as I forced myself to back away.
    If I stayed there watching them, I just might find myself doing something awful, something I’d never forgive myself for. So I left. I needed to find my way to the front of the house and call Paul. He could give my regrets to Edward. Not that I really regretted leaving. I just—
    “There you are.”
    I froze.
    That cold voice was like a slap against my overly heated cheeks and I slowly turned to find Claire Bouvier standing in the hall. She had a look on her face that could have been summed up in two syllables. Ah-ha . It was a triumphant sort of gleam, the kind that a cat might have in its eyes when it finally caught a mouse.
    I was no damn mouse.
    Drawing my chin up, I met her stare. “Did you need something, Mrs. Bouvier?” I asked quietly.
    Her brow arched. “I was just wondering where my dear daughter-in-law-to-be had disappeared to. Cody was looking for you. Edward is still talking with a group from the European division. Who knows what Flynn is doing.”
    I managed not to toss out, don’t you mean who ? There was no way she didn't know about her son's...tendencies.
    “I’m right here,” I said, shrugging. “I was trying to find the front of the house. I was going to call Paul.” I shrugged and glanced past her to the windows that faced out over the grand lawn of the backyard. “I’m not feeling well.”
    “I wouldn’t think so,” she said, her smile seeming to be pleased. “Coming face to face with everything you’re not? How could you feel well?”
    Shocked at the fact she'd actually come out and say such a thing, I stared at her. The heat of my humiliation, when my pride was already shredded, was so immense, I felt sick to my stomach. I couldn't find the words. “I…you don’t—”
    “I don’t what?” She cut me off and crossed her arms. “I don’t understand? Let me guess.” She lifted a hand, tapping her finger with her lips. “You love Edward…” She arched her brows. “I imagine you think you do. Any number of girls have loved him. But that doesn’t mean they’d make him a good wife,