Free Beguiled by Catherine Lloyd

Clara tried to squirm away at the last instant. He
gripped her buttocks tighter and thrust with all his force into her vagina.

Chapter Seven

 
    CLARA CRIED out. Tears stood in her eyes.
He bent over her, his cock thick and hard inside her quivering, wet sex.
    “There is no going back for us now,” he groaned. “I want you
to know me just once as your husband. No one else’s. Just yours, Clara.”
    Branson smoothed her hair out of her eyes, kissed her face
and then her mouth. He parted her lips with his tongue and burrowed inside. His
weight pinned her down but she fought his lovemaking until she began to feel
aroused again.
    And then Clara was transformed, seemingly amazed at what he
was doing inside her. Her eyes fluttered open and they met Branson’s,
bewildered and curious at first, and then they darkened with arousal. She was so innocent , he thought. His
cousin did not even know she was aroused or how desirable she was.
    He controlled his lust, waiting until her hips moved under
his, responding to his thrusts, following a secret river to climax. Her firm
breasts were squashed against his chest.
    “I am yours now, cousin,” she breathed and dug her nails
into his back.
    He drove his cock deeper inside her, pumping her young
womanhood as slowly as he could bear. “Damn you, Clara. You make me forget
everything I’ve ever wanted,” Branson whispered in his cousin’s ear. “How am I
ever going to let you go?”
    He slipped his hand between their writhing bodies to finger
her and she whimpered and thrust harder and faster. The orgasm built and
tightened in his testicles.
    “Clara—oh God— Clara .”
    Branson ground his teeth against the climax.
He had wanted to take his time fucking her; he wanted this hour in the field to
last until eternity. A day when the air was clean, the birds sang and the sun
shone on them both. The earth smelled of cut hay and dew.
    “Love me, love me,” she cried. “I love you,
Branson. I love you.”
    Her words were like rain on his parched
being, so long alone and empty. His manhood was full of sperm and near to
splitting open. He roared like an animal off his leash and pounded Clara’s
vagina; a wild man with his mate—unbound, unstoppable.
    Clara made a high keening sound as she
reached orgasm. That he could bring her such pleasure filled him with pride and
possession. She was his and she always would be. The truth of their union was
that she was his woman, his other self, created for him.
    As he was created for her.
    Branson’s body jerked spasmodically with the
sweet torture of climax as her pussy tightened around his cock, joining him in
ecstasy. He shouted at the crest, startling the birds in the trees. He
plummeted into a pleasure that took him out of himself, howling a long haunting
cry of release.
    The climax shattered his consciousness—he had never
experienced that before—he didn’t know it was possible for a mortal man to know
such pleasure on earth.
    Branson ejaculated inside her, pulling out a hair too late for
safety. A stream of semen landed on her breasts and belly and streaked down her
leg. His seed was mingled with her juices and he was furious with his lack of
self-control. She was only nineteen—he might’ve got her pregnant and what
future would she have then? Hired rooms and a monthly allowance such as
Strachan would have offered? Clara would never ransom her life to such terms.
With Edgar’s help, she would cope on her own.
    Branson flung him self to the gras s,
panting and dripping sweat, reeling from the intensity of their mutual climax. He could no t do anything —not even
think— for a moment but lay there and try to recover. Clara was quiet beside him.
    “We must go,” he said. But he could not find
the will to move.
    “There must be a way for us to be together,”
she said piteously and drew under his arm.
    “I have a wife. You know there is not.”
    “And I had a father and a home and my
reputation, yet here I am with you. I have