Coming Home (The Surrender Trilogy 3) - Page 19

the man leered at the mistress. Her gown was dragged to the underside of her pert little breasts. The man approached, scooping up a feathered fan and dragging it over the mistress’s throat, slowly

undoing the hook fastenings of her corset.

Lucian’s heated flesh brought Evelyn back to her own circumstances. He was really going to fuck

her! Here!

“Shh, shh, shh. Look around. We’re not the only ones.”

Evelyn’s gaze covertly scanned the room. Bodies arched and couples leaned close. She could almost

smell the carnality of the space. Church indeed!

He lifted her limbs, and her panties were jerked to the side once more. Fitting himself at the mouth of her sex, he slowly slid her down, forcing her to take all of him or risk exposure. Not that anyone seemed to care what they were doing.

She moaned at the sense of fullness. His fingers dug into her hips, through the fabric of her bunched skirt, as he lifted her and brought her down hard on his cock.

He grunted. The fingers of his other hand gathered her clothing and found her clit. Evelyn’s flesh

was still sensitive from her recent climax. Her body jerked reflexively in his grip and his hold

tightened.

“I’ll never forget how you disarmed me that day I found you in my suite, dressed so properly in your little housekeeping uniform. When I thought you were nosing through my belongings I wanted to

throttle you, but not nearly as much as I wanted to fuck you. The moment you looked at me with those crystalline blue eyes I was hard. I’ve never wanted a woman the way I want you, Evelyn.”

She was beyond speech. The actors were past performing. A full out sexcapade was taking place on

the stage. Hands groped and toes curled. Evelyn was stuffed full of Lucian’s big cock as he continued to direct her motions, making her ride him hard as he whispered into her ear.

His fingers pinched down on her clit, and her sex convulsed. He groaned and moved her faster. His

hands slid under her blouse and dragged the lace cups of her bra down. He found her hard nipples and pinched the little tips. His hips rocked into her. Her leg muscles worked to keep her body moving with his.

The actors onstage screamed and grunted with pleasure. It was a fantasy of the flesh. Peeks of pink folds and blushing breasts swirled before her. Dainty hands caressed lush thighs and painted lips

curled in expressions of raw pleasure.

“You’re going to come for me one last time, Evelyn. With me. Are you ready?”

He thrust into her, hard. His fingers curved over her breasts in a bruising grip. She moaned long

and loud and . . . something hard suddenly crashed into her.

Scout shouted. The fuzzy sense of falling lingered in her sleep-addled mind as she pressed up on her

hands and knees. What the hell?

She was on the floor, blankets twisted around her feet. Disoriented, she looked around. It was dawn.

She was in her new apartment. Her earlier erotic memory must have carried over to her sleep.

Sitting back on her heels, she rubbed her forehead. Visions of the night Lucian had taken her to the

burlesque show dancing in her head. God, that was an incredible night.

Defeated, she sighed and moaned. The sun wasn’t even up and she’d already broken her vow not to

think about him. Throwing her head back on her mattress, she drew up her knees where she sat on the

floor, and groaned. The problem with having a lover like Lucian Patras was, once he got inside of you,

it was impossible to get him out.

Chapter 5

Snap

Work was work. Fridays were always a bit more hectic than other days. Wednesdays were big with

the seniors, she’d learned, but on Fridays customers slammed the store with orders for the weekend.

Scout barely had a chance to pee all day.

Around one o’clock they had their first lull since morning. She straightened up her register and

tidied her drawer. She was just about to tell Nick she was going to take her lunch, when the back of her neck prickled. Turning, she spotted Mr. Gerhard coming down her aisle.

“Evelyn, I’d like to speak to you in my office, please.”

Her stomach knotted. Her manager, who wasn’t much older than her, carried himself as though he

were in his fifties. For some reason this guy gave her an oozy feeling—not in a good way.

She nodded and shut her drawer, flicking off her light. Mr. Gerhard had a neatly trimmed mustache

and thin lips under there somewhere. His glasses were dated and so thick they made his eyes huge. He

always smelled of peppermint and coffee and looked as if he were made of wax.

They entered the glorified storage room that was his office and he gestured for her to take a seat in

the metal folding chair. She waited for him to talk.

Sighing, he steepled his fingers and studied her for a long moment. “Ms. Keats, there seems to be a

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