When you're done with my kiss, head over to Victoria's for more sensational snogs.
So it was that Caroline found herself alone with Pete, the last of the guests to leave. She would have been angry at her father for sacrificing her virtue (as he imagined) to political expediency had this not coincided so completely with her own desires.
"I regret that your father became indisposed," said Pete, pouring her another glass of excellent French wine.
"Spicy food frequently disagrees with him." Caroline settled back into the cushions, closer to Pete. To her disappointment, he sighed and sat up straight.
"It's well past midnight. I suppose that I should call for the carriage."
She laid a hand on his shoulder. "That's not really necessary, is it?"
He started, then allowed her to pull him down to her level. "Caroline? What...?"
She removed his spectacles, stowing them on a convenient shelf behind them, and gazed into his eyes. She watched the emotions chase each other through those velvet depths: surprise, disbelief, and finally understanding. Still, he hesitated. Tired of being patient, Caroline leaned forward and kissed him.
As though the touch of her lips had freed him from constraints, he grew suddenly bold, pulling her to his chest and thrusting his tongue into her half-open mouth. He tasted spicy and unfamiliar, utterly delicious. Although she had begun the kiss, he soon assumed control. Freddy had been annoyingly tentative, but Pete clearly knew what he was doing. His hands engaged in wanton exploration, molding her silk-sheathed breast, thumbing the nipple, then slipping under her skirts. She gasped when he brushed the bare skin on the inside of her thigh. Sparks flared wherever his fingers traveled. Her quim felt soaked and swollen, aching for his attention. Her many-layered garments were a sweltering prison.
She stroked his lean thigh through his trousers, then allowed her hand to creep upward. Pete groaned into her mouth as she cupped the substantial bulge she discovered in his groin. He wore no undergarments. The bulb nestled in her palm, quivering and damp, while she ran her thumb around the ridge. He tensed, thrusting into her fist. Under the fabric, his prick felt hard and smooth as polished river stones. It was long and slender, as exotic as the rest of him.
His lips slid away from hers to nuzzle the sensitive skin below her ear. Her heart fluttered against her stays. Her cunny throbbed, wet and hungry. His cat tongue swirled across her throat. while underneath his hand groped blindly, seeking a way into her knickers.
"Oh, Caroline," he breathed, rocking against her hand while fumbling with her petticoats. "That's marvelous! But these bloody skirts..."
"Shall we retire to your room, then? I should very much like to remove them."
Want to read the rest of the story? All you have to do is ask! Email me at lisabet -- at -- lisabetsarai -- dot -- com with the subject line "Green Cheese", and I'll email you back a PDF copy, complete with my self-designed cover.