Prisoner of Love

by Beverly Jenkins

Elizabeth was a product of her times. She could do needle-point, play a passable piano and set a proper table. She knew never to venture out without the requisite undergarments, let a man see her ankles and had endured the marriage bed because it was a woman’s duty to do so.

“Yes, it has been, but I couldn’t wish for a more beautiful woman to break my fast with.” His voice was as intense as his eyes, and Elizabeth’s was suddenly shaking like a leaf in the wind. “Will you do your duty for me right now, Elizabeth?” “Now?” she croaked. “Now, darlin’. Nothing I want more than to take you in the house and please you a hundred times, catch our breath and start all over again.”

“I want to love your breasts, and your thighs, and the nook of your navel. I want to fill my hands with your hips and explore you like a man blind...”

“Shall I lick you again? Suck you again? Would you like that?” She dearly wanted him to, but she was too scandalized by her own needs to voice the desire. He toured his palm over the tight buds and murmured against the silence, “You have to tell me, darlin’.” He plied her nipples with a heated series of plucks and pulls that made her hips rise up from his lap and increased the tumult between her thighs. “Say, suck me, Jordan.” Elizabeth was on fire. “Say, lick me, Jordan.” “Ohhhh.”