Free Lessons and Lovers by Portia Da Costa Page B

seemed to go on and on, his semen flying out into the empty air. Hettie panted, pulsing with him, her pussy a mass of quivering fire yet desperate for full penetration.
    With a long moan, she detached her consciousness from his, closing her eyes tightly and slumping back into her chair, her bottom still wriggling convulsively against the plush upholstery beneath her. She was still coming slightly, her own body amazing her with both its power and its insatiable need and hunger.
    But suddenly and incredibly, a facet of that hunger was satisfied. Two fingers slid into her empty channel. Two solid male fingers that filled her aching void and made a firm, sure foundation for the strong flat thumb that nudged her hovering fingers aside and settled fairly and squarely on her clitoris.
    Hettie howled like an animal as her orgasm flared anew, then soared to an almost unbearable peak of sensation. Rapture consumed her, ecstasy drained her and there was no strength left to either lift her heavy eyelids or frame her brain around the words of a question.
    As her belly beat and fluttered she felt a warm mouth settle there and kiss her, the touch of it so tender that her heart almost broke in gratitude. Then the fingers were plunging deeper into her, matching the rhythm of her flesh, their motion smooth in her wet silkiness as the thumb remained steady on her clitoris. Hettie’s legs flailed helplessly, her bare feet striking her caresser’s body again and again as she jerked and cried out in her climax.
    It seemed a long, long time before her pussy stilled and her limbs lay loose and at rest. Splayed and bared, with her sex still glowing, she felt the one who’d pleasured her rise from between her legs, then heard a tiny click as the monitor was turned off and the post-orgasmic Darryl was consigned to privacy and presumably his sleep.
    Hettie’s own limbs felt like lead and her body devoid of all energy. All she could manage was a sigh of contentment when she was picked up in a pair of powerful arms and carried from the room like a feather-light doll.
    It was only when she was laid gently on her own bed and the strong hands that had held and caressed her started exploring her body again, that she finally came back to her senses. Thrills shot along her nerves as her robe and nightgown were quickly and efficiently stripped off and her thighs were taken hold of and eased apart.
    And as she felt the hard, warm head of a penis against her wetness, and the beginnings of a slow, determined push, Hettie finally managed to open her eyes. Open them and look straight up into Starr’s calm, blue and unswerving gaze.
    “My lady,” he whispered, but before she could form an answer, his mouth plunged down on hers and his cock slid home.
    Whatever she might have said to him was forgotten.

Chapter Four
    “Why not ask Doctor Madrigan?”
    Like everything Starr suggested, it was sensible, rational and probably the right thing to do. But sitting here in a chic Harley Street waiting room, Hettie wasn’t even sure quite what she wanted to ask. Precise questions hadn’t been an issue in the still, sweaty hours of the previous night.
    After they’d made love—or she’d been “made love to”—she’d felt relaxed enough to air some of her general concerns over Darryl to Starr. In the cold light of day, she probably wouldn’t have voiced them but at night, feeling warm and loose in Starr’s arms, it had seemed as natural as breathing to seek his opinion on what to do to help her amnesiac guest.
    The fact that he’d discovered her watching Darryl masturbate was not mentioned. Just like the fact that she and Starr had begun having sex again, it was clearly a nonissue and not to be discussed. At least not if Starr had his way.
    But she was going to have to discuss it with Stevie. Which was why she’d come to Harley Street.
    Stephanie Madrigan was a medical doctor turned counselor who Hettie had consulted in the confused days of Piers’ illness