Free Young, Allyson - Absolute Perfection [Aspire 3] (Siren Publishing Classic) by Allyson Young

reaching to put an arm around her belly to support her back. As his spine heated and his balls boiled, he found her little clit and rubbed hard. She climaxed and raised high on her toes, forcing his cock to drag forward and give up its seed as her snug pussy milked him hard.
    He relished the sensation before pulling out. He stepped back and saw her shoulders heaving. His gut clenched. He’d hurt her! “God, sweet one. I’m sorry. I just needed you. Again. I didn’t mean to hurt you!”
    She turned into his arms, and behind the droplets of water on her face, he saw unbridled glee. “You didn’t hurt me, Georgios. But enough already.” She laughed again, this time not silently. “You’re like a randy teenager.”
    George puffed out his chest and glared at her before giving in and smiling back. “Only with you, sweet one.”
    They took turns washing one another once he removed the condom, and he decided to tell her of the failure of the other one at breakfast rather than spoil the moment. He loved the feel of her silky skin under his callused hands as he soaped and rinsed every inch of her, as well as the way her long tresses slipped between his fingers like pulled taffy. She moaned when he rubbed her scalp with his fingertips, and the sound reminded him of how she responded to discipline. When she tenderly cleansed him, his cock made a valiant attempt to rise to the occasion, and they both chuckled at the failed effort. George had never felt so content or secure in his manhood.

Chapter Six

    Iris pulled her silk dress over her head and smoothed it down over her hips. Her panties were on the dresser, and she yanked them on in relief. She didn’t feel secure without underwear and was relieved George understood and accepted that particular limit. She stepped into her shoes and gathered up her little bag and her wrap, heading down the hall toward the unmistakable sounds of George working in the kitchen. He might expect her submission sexually, but there was no indication he wanted her to serve him in all aspects. The wonderful smell of bacon permeated the air, and she could hear dishes clattering. She hoped he had coffee ready. The sight of a grand piano had her steps slowing, and she veered in that direction. She hadn’t taken note of the house’s contents the night before, being in some kind of exhausted stupor brought on by more orgasms that any one woman should entertain in an evening.
    The piano was tucked in an alcove of the large living room, or tucked as much as such a large, imposing instrument could be. This part of the room was likely a dining area but had been pressed into service as a music room. Iris used to play piano, but her constant traveling didn’t lend itself to having one, and she was instantly intrigued. She crossed to the keyboard, setting her purse and shawl on the bench, and was reaching to drift her fingers over the ivories when she saw it, lying flat on the polished surface. It was a wedding picture. She swivelled her head to scan the room and realized the space was austere. There were no pictures anywhere, no knickknacks, nothing to soften the place and make it a home. George’s bedroom was similar when she thought about it. His bed was huge and comfortable and the bathroom well appointed, but again there were no pictures or ornaments. Iris might have noticed more if she hadn’t been either asleep or being screwed senseless. She supposed his wife had taken everything like that with her, although she’d found the big walk-in closet first while looking for the bathroom earlier. A corner of it was jammed full of boxes and women’s clothing, piled willy-nilly and obviously forgotten if one considered the disregard for the high-end items. She had carefully closed the door on the sight. Nothing would possess her to borrow even a nightgown from that stash. She wondered why Georgios hadn’t bothered to get rid of them and hoped it wasn’t that he couldn’t bear to handle the items because