Wild (Regency Scandal 2) by Carole Mortimer (the best books of all time .txt) 📕

aroused cock as it jutted upward, pre-cum glistening on its tip. “Place your legs either side of my thighs,” he instructed.

She rested her hand on his shoulder for balance, using the other to hold up her gown as she straddled him.

Andrew’s fingers caressed lower, to where he could feel the juices already slicking her pussy lips. He parted and held open those swollen petals. “Lower yourself onto my cock now.” His other hand moved to grasp the base and hold it steady as Cat lifted up high enough above his cock before she slowly lowered again.

They both groaned long and loud as Cat impaled herself, engulfing Andrew’s cock in the hot tightness of her channel.

“I will pull out before I come,” Andrew promised.

He knew it wasn’t a guaranteed method of avoiding pregnancy, but right now, he was only interested in prolonging their pleasure.

To that end, he began to spank Cat’s arse as she used the leverage of gripping his shoulders to lift herself up and down the length of his cock.

“Is this what you wanted?” Andrew pressed, raising her gown so that he might watch his glistening cock sliding in and out of her hot pussy.

“Oh God, yes!” Cat gasped, her body jolting with pleasure and her channel becoming even hotter as Andrew spanked her arse, over and over again, until she was a shaking and mewling creature in his arms, begging for release.

A release Andrew gave her by stroking and pressing her clit with his fingers until he felt her body convulse and her channel contract hotly.

He waited until he was sure her release was fully over before withdrawing his cock and grasping and masturbating it in his hand until his release spurted over her pussy and thighs.

Chapter Twelve

Cat was feeling out of sorts as the three of them traveled on horseback along the rough and rutted tracks leading to the busy city of Inverness. To attempt it by carriage would have taken twice as long.

Andrew rode his black hunter, Malcolm the pony Hugh and Elena had bought him for his fourth birthday, and Cat on the reliable mare she’d owned for the past five years.

Even so, she felt every step and jolt on the soreness of her spanked bottom.

She had slept alone but not well the night before, after she and Andrew had parted ways at the top of the stairs following their time together in Hugh’s study.

It had been Cat’s decision they sleep alone, and Andrew, after looking at her searchingly for several long moments, had finally agreed to her request.

A request Cat had made because she had no idea what she was doing or how this sexual madness with Andrew could possibly end in anything other than disaster. She had never felt such wantonness as she did in Andrew’s arms, and yet she knew that it couldn’t last.

Fiona Munro had been correct in her warning that Andrew would eventually go back to London and forget about them, his duty to Malcolm fulfilled by having assured himself his nephew was being well taken care of and Andrew need stir himself no longer in that regard.

If anything, Malcolm was more out of sorts than Cat, having been cross and truculent as he dressed and when they all ate breakfast together this morning. No doubt his bad mood was because of a lingering tiredness from his busy and emotional day yesterday and his lateness in going to bed the previous night.

Andrew was as silent, his attention focused in narrow-eyed awareness of their surroundings, rather than troubling himself overmuch with talking to the two disgruntled people he was traveling with.

They stopped to eat a packed luncheon halfway to Inverness before continuing on as silently as before.

By the time they rode up to her Uncle Simon’s house late that afternoon, they had all been in the saddle for hours, and, to add insult to misery, it had, as so often happened in the Highlands, begun to rain.

Malcolm, with the resilience of youth, rallied the moment his Great-aunt Morag offered to take him to the kitchen where he might have a glass of milk and some of the cakes their cook had baked fresh that morning.

As Andrew had asked for a private conversation with Simon McGregor, Cat was left with no choice but to join Morag and Malcolm in the parlor.

“I need your assistance in bringing to justice the people responsible for murdering my sister and her husband, and also for the attack on yourself two months ago.” Once he and Simon McGregor were alone in the older man’s study, Andrew wasted no time in voicing the knowledge which had been eating away at him since overhearing that damning conversation yesterday.

Half a dozen times since, he had almost shared those suspicions with Cat, but those same half a dozen times, he had stopped himself. There was no reason to disturb her with that knowledge until he was in a position to be able to do something about it.

This distraction of his thoughts was the only reason Andrew had agreed to Cat sleeping alone the night before. He had known that spending the night in such close proximity to her might loosen his tongue, and he saw no reason why both of them should bear the burden of this information until Andrew was able to do something about it.

It was his hope that Simon McGregor, as the sheriff principal for the area, would be able to provide the solution.

“Please sit, Your Grace,” the older man instructed before pouring some of Dougal McGregor’s whisky into two glasses, Cat having brought several jars with her as a gift for her uncle. He handed one of those glasses to Andrew before seating himself behind his desk.

Tall and gray-haired, and spare of build, Simon McGregor’s intelligence gleamed brightly in pale blue eyes.

“Please call me Essex, or Andrew, if you prefer,” he invited dismissively. The stuffy man who had arrived in the Highlands only two days ago had been replaced with one who freely admitted to