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Category: Erotica/Erotic Romance/Romance
Description: Gloria Morrison marries rich, kills her husband, runs from a brutal bounty hunter and escapes into the arms of the man she can't allow herself to love.
eBook Publisher: eXtasy eBooks, 2007 extasybooks.com
eBookwise Release Date: December 2007

2 Reader Ratings:

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Available eBook Formats: OEBFF Format (IMP) [148 KB]
Words: 34536
Reading time: 98-138 min.

"Oh, oh," she gasped, her breasts rising and falling faster now. She had pleasured herself so many times before Ethan had come into her life.

"Oh, Ethan," she said, closing her eyes as her finger slid into her pussy. A second finger joined the first as her inner oils began to build. She started finger fucking herself until her knees went weak. She sat on the dressing table bench and rocked back, her knees rising and the shift pulling away from her body. She watched herself as she drove her fingers in and out of her wet slit.

Her finger sped up as it slipped in and out. The inner heat spread and turned into a warm sun glowing in her loins. Gasping, moaning, thinking of Ethan, she kept her finger fucking hard as she reached out with her other hand to tweak a nipple.

The sensations spread through her body like melted butter. When the two merged, Gloria let out a cry of release. It was not much of an orgasm, but it was enough to take her mind off what had to follow.

A little. She was able to forget for a few seconds.

She dropped her feet to the carpeted floor and rocked forward. The shift bunched around her waist so her pussy was still exposed. She stroked over the tangled raven-dark mat of fleece there and finally knew she was not going to enjoy her self-stimulation anymore. With body and soul dipped in lead, she went to the wardrobe and took the nightgown from the hanger. She shucked off the linen shift she had worn under her wedding gown and donned the nightgown. It took her a few minutes to figure how to tie it just right. She had never worn anything as expensive as this, other than her the wedding gown that lay discarded in a sad pile on the floor.

Somehow, that dress matched her fortunes. Lovely but discarded and in disarray.

A million ideas raced through her mind on how to avoid going into Mr. Turnbull's bedroom--her bedroom--but nothing useful came to her. If she put off going to her wedding bed too long, she would anger her new husband.

Steps slow and hesitant, she left her dressing room and the safety of solitude it offered and went to the bedroom. She knocked tentatively, hoping against hope that Mr. Turnbull had already gone to bed and fallen asleep.

"Come in, my dear. Come in and be quick about it!"

Gloria opened the door and went in. The gaslights were turned low, but she saw Abraham Turnbull as if he was bathed in dazzling sunlight. He was entirely naked, but her eyes refused to leave the man's boner. He had a hard-on as large as Ethan's.

Ethan's, she thought. She could keep her eyes closed and pretend that it was Ethan fucking her and not this withered old man.

"Come to me and suck on my cock. I want to feel the warmth of your lips as you suck on me. Suck hard and then we will fuck!"

Gloria herself to cross the room. Surprisingly strong hands rested on her shoulders and forced her to her knees. His erection bobbed inches in front of her lips.

"Go on, wife. Suck my dick."

Gloria reached out and fumbled about, keeping her eyes tightly closed. Then resolve caused her to hurry along. The sooner she got him off the sooner she could simply lie in the bed and sleep, as if sleep would ever come to her this night. She took his cock into her hands and stroked up and down. He moaned softly and stepped a little closer. She worked her hand up and down faster. Then she put her lips to the very tip of his cock.

He let out a huge gasp. She thought he had cum, but there was no gush of white goo from the end of his prick. Gloria tumbled backward when his weight crashed down atop her.

"Mr. Turnbull, please," she said, thinking he had become so excited he could not wait to get inside her. But he lay atop her, unmoving. Gloria pushed at him and finally rolled away to stare at him.

He lay stretched out on the floor. She saw no rise and fall of his chest, although his boner was as hard as ever.

"Mr. Turnbull? Abe?" She shook him. He did not move. Gloria knelt beside him and pressed her fingertips into his throat hunting for a pulse. There was no telltale throbbing, even in the bulging veins.

She rocked back on her heels, confused by the flood of emotions that assailed her. Relief and guilt and then fear.

Real fear. She had killed her husband on their wedding night. For this she would hang.