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Seducing the Chaperone

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23 pages19 minutes

Summary

The curvaceous young widow Annabelle is resigned to a life of duty and virtue. But when she searches out the handsome Mr Sinclair, she finds that virtue is a poor defence against a determined seduction, and her body cries out for the ecstasy he offers her...

Explict: this short erotic story contains explicit heterosexual sex, with a plus-size beauty being seduced by a handsome stranger.

Excerpt: She raised her other hand to push him away, but it came to rest on his chest and she could not force herself further. It was so long since she had been kissed; she had not thought to ever be kissed again after her husband had passed on. And even he had never kissed her like this, slow and tender, working her lips apart and sliding in his tongue as if she were a delicious morsel to be enjoyed.

It was highly improper; it would be nothing but awkward, as she was companion and chaperone to his sister; but she could not resist tipping her head up and moving even closer. She kissed him back, all her loneliness rising up in her so she clung to him.

"You have such kissable lips," he murmured, cupping her cheek in his hand. "I thought so from the first moment I saw you; Bellingham pointed you out to me."

"Bellingham?" she said absently, hoping he would kiss her again. He laughed softly and obliged her, a light kiss on the corner of her mouth, another and another trailing along the curve of her jawline.

"Such a short memory you have," he said caressingly. "I hope I may last a little longer!"

"Of course you will," she said, and he hummed and lifted her chin, so he could better kiss her neck. "Oh, no - but we should go back into the ballroom - "
"That's cruel of you," he nipped her earlobe, and she shivered. "Don't I please you?"

"Oh yes," she sighed, such a wistful passion in her voice she flushed at it. "But we'll be missed - "

"Not in that crowd," he said, and she should tell him Rose was waiting, she should - his mouth was so sweet, though, and it was on hers again, stifling all the words she could have offered. He kissed her more forcefully this time, so she swayed against him and he slipped his arm about her waist to clasp her tight. She was too warm, even in the cooler air of the library; her head spun as if she were packed in shoulder-to-shoulder with the baying crowd. His tongue slid against hers, and the slow obscene glide of it made her think of other places he might put it, of all the places on her body that longed for kisses and touches, that were so neglected.

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