"Joanna Wylde - The Price of Freedom" - читать интересную книгу автора (Wylde Joanna)

under enough pressure will do desperate things, even if it leads to their own death. The women had to
know thatтАж
He had been at the far end of the barracks when she entered, but there was something about her
that drew him to her. Maybe it was the way she carried herself; she was surrounded by a hundred men
starved for a woman's touch, yet she remained calm and poised. Distant. As if she were walking through
a world of her own. He had moved through the ranks of waiting slaves until he was in front of her, taking
the cart and pulling it away gently. She looked up at him, startled by his action. The guards watched in
silence, hands on their weapons, but he did nothing threatening. He simply eased the cart out of her
hands.
Her eyes had been wide with surprise when they met his. They were a brilliant green and
almond-shaped; feline, like a cat. He had felt like he was falling into them. Her face was pale, slightly
dirty, as if she had been working all day. Perhaps cleaning. There was exhaustion there, and a bit of
defiance. She hadnтАЩt ducked his gaze, but met it head on. She might have been afraid of him, but she
wasnтАЩt going to show it.
In that moment, heтАЩd known she should be his. Of course, he had no idea how heтАЩd ever get her.
She was probably marriedтАФall Pilgrim women married young. She had to be in her mid-twenties, so she
might even have several children, and a husband who had a right to touch her body whenever he wanted.
JessтАЩ fists clenched at the thought, and he pushed it from his mind, frowning into the darkness. He didnтАЩt
want to think about another man with his woman. Instead, he imagined what she looked like under her
robes. Her hair was dark brown, he knew that much. Her face was pretty, pale skin, luscious ripe lips.
She was thin, her hands roughened from hard work.
What would her hair look like, loose and hanging around her naked body? He formed a mental
image of her standing before him. Her breasts, high and pert, would peek out between the long locks.
She would smile up at him, those green cat-eyes filled with secrets. She would lick her lips and they
would shine with her moisture. Then she would run her eyes up and down his own powerful, naked form,
smiling at him with a sultry question written on her face. How did he want her? On her knees before
himтАжunder himтАжriding him?
Unable to help himself, Jess slipped one hand under his ragged blanket in the darkness of the
barracks. Reaching into his pants, he found the long, smooth length of his cock. His eyes closed as his
fingers grazed the head, a tingle of sensation stabbing through his groin. He touched the groove on the
under side, rubbing one fingertip across it. His muscles clenched; he stiffened. The delicate touch was
almost painful in its intensity.
He turned his thoughts to her again. She would kneel before him, and smile up at him with that
peculiar look only a woman could give. As if she existed to rule and serve him at the same time. Then she
would lift one hand and take his cock into her grasp, running her fingers over him. He moved his own
hand against his skin, pretending he wasnтАЩt in a dark barrack, filled with a hundred slaves. Instead he was
with her, and they had all the time in the worldтАж
She gently touched her lips to the end of his cock, running her tongue around the head. He fought to
control a gasp as she sucked his length into her hot, wet mouth. Then she started working her head back
and forth. She raised one hand, firmly gripping the based of his erection and squeezing him in time with
her movements. Her cheeks hollowed with each stroke, the suction of her mouth tugging on him in a
slow, steady rhythm that was mesmerizing.
In the darkness of the barracks, it was easy to imagine that it wasnтАЩt his own hand stroking his hard
length. Instead, she was with him, sucking him, pulling him. Each time her lips slid down the length of him,
the pressure in his balls built a little higher. In his mind, he imagined what it would feel like to pull her up
until she stood before him. He would kiss her mouth with strong, penetrating strokes of his tongue. Then
he would raise her in his arms and thrust his length into the hot, wet opening between her legs. Hard.
He could feel her wet lips, feel himself sinking into her again and again. His hand moved faster,
roughly stroking up and down the length of his cock. He squeezed his fingers, imagining it was the
pressure of her body around him. She would pulse under him, and when her own pleasure overtook her