Forty Three

She clenched in crazed warning, and he shuddered against her. "Seb—" Fabric tore and long fingers shoved something, some wad of cloth into her mouth.

Then he was thrusting into her again, clearly not caring that there were people on the other side of the door and they were in imminent fear of discovery.

He pulled almost all the way out and slid back inside her in such a long, smooth motion that she bucked over the knob and it slowly slid against her in a manner that made her shudder harder and her fingers scrape furrows in the desktop. She bit into the material as hard as she could. He slid into her again, pushing all the way up, and her breasts spilled from her dress as they moved forward, dragging across the patterned leather, tracing every valley. She sobbed from the overstimulation.

"Sounds like a cat. Probably in heat. Maybe that ghost the women keep bantering about is true. Come on, you owe me that billiards game before dinner."