Free Cheryl Holt by Complete Abandon

out and flowing down, and he’d—
    “Wakefield, you’re drinking!”
    “Yes, I am, Miss Fitzgerald.” Rudely, he tipped his whisky at her, then imbibed in a deep swig.
    “Your companions are still on the premises, too! Your mistress is here! I saw her coming down the stairs.”
    “Is she up and about already?” he flippantly inquired.
    “You’ve violated every term of our agreement—and we haven’t even commenced!”
    “There is no agreement.”
    “Oh, yes there is!” She stomped over to him and snatched his glass, tossing the contents into the hearth. He was so astonished that he didn’t even object. Furious, she hovered over him, hands on hips, ferocious as any put-upon governess he’d annoyed as a lad. “I’m not about to let you worm your way out of it!”
    “Miss Fitzgerald, I know I have a miserable reputation, but you can’t realistically presume that I would permit you to disgrace yourself into being seduced by me! Despite how noble your cause!” He strove to look conciliatory. “I was jesting.”
    “I wasn’t! Your promises may not hold any value to you, but mine are sincere and earnestly made!” Flabbergasting him, she went to the door and turned the key in the lock. “We’re proceeding! Whether you want to or not!”
    What on earth did she propose?
    He actually suffered a frenetic moment when he worried that she was going to force herself on him. The notion was so absurd that he laughed aloud, a robust, hearty belly laugh such as he hadn’t enjoyed in ages, but his mirth faded when she sauntered to the windows and closed the drapes, tightening them so that no one outside on the path could see in.
    With a smile as old as Eve’s, she advanced on the couch, and before he could register a protest, she climbed on top of him and straddled his lap. Her knees were balanced on the cushions, her thighs cradling his own. She rucked up her skirt and lowered herself so that her privates were in contact with his phallus, and his cock jumped to attention, swelling his trousers, as she temptingly shifted across it, then she leaned forward, breasts to chest, her lips inches from his own.
    “I can stay for two hours, Wakefield, and we have so much to do.” She threaded her fingers through his hair, sifting through the curly locks at the back, then she bent down and initiated a kiss, her delectable mouth uniting with his, the impact electrifying and magnificent.
    The woman was an absolute mystery, and he was stumped as to how he should carry on. He’d tried to humor her, he’d tried to warn her, he’d tried to frighten her, but nothing had succeeded, and he couldn’t fathom how to make her desist and depart.
    As it was, her fabulous anatomy was pressed to his, setting off sparks in numerous erotic spots. His erection was so hard it was painful. Those marvelously enticinglips of hers were molded to his own, yet he was sitting like a nitwit, inert as a marble statue, hands at his sides, and declining to participate as was imperative.
    For once in his despicable life, he’d resolved to act the gentleman that birth and breeding said he was. He had no intention of encouraging her, or of progressing down the road she seemed determined to travel.
    He would save her from her folly!
    She licked across his bottom lip. “Kiss me back, Wakefield.”
    “I can’t.”
    “Yes you can.”
    “This is wrong.” Had those words come from him? What was happening? In her presence, he was becoming a certifiable prude!
    “You’re right, but we’re going to do it anyway.” She caressed his shoulders, his chest, massaging in languid circles.
    “Don’t do that,” he ordered, but without any punch behind the command.
    He took hold of her hands, halting the circular motions, but she linked their fingers together, in a dear manner, much as if they were adolescent sweethearts. Like a contented cat, she arched, thrusting out her breasts and rubbing them up and down, her aroused nipples poking at him in a way that