Defiant Angel – Stephanie Stevens

His parted lips closed over hers, drawing her tongue into his mouth. She timidly parried with his tongue, bringing a groan of satisfaction from Clinton, who deepened the kiss and brought her up against his chest, feeling the twin buds of desire quiver against him. With her surrender, he gathered her in his arms, bringing them to the carpeted floor of the carriage. Rising above her, leaning on his forearms, he gazed down at the bounty she offered him.

Her breasts, full, pink, with their peaks hard and tight in desire, rose up in offering. He lowered his mouth, paying homage to one, then the other. Tiffany arched her back, offering the fullness of her breast to his mouth. An uncoiling began in the pit of her stomach, a wetness between her thighs as his tongue stroked her nipples. With each stoke a current shot from her nipple to the aching place between her legs and she moaned, “Please . . . oh.”

Each moan undid Clinton. His breathing was harsh and rapid. Fire burned within him and he whispered hoarsely, “I want you, Princess.” She whimpered at his words, feeling his raw, potent sexuality against her thigh. His hands charted a course over her breasts to her belly. She groaned. He nearly undid his breeches save for the sound of a bell which pealed, bringing him out of his own flame.

He lifted himself up to his forearms. Tiffany moaned in distress when she felt him rise. Looking up at him with passion-dazed eyes, she ran her hands up his exposed chest, running her nails through the crisp mat of black hair. Hearing her moan, he gazed down at her. The need for fulfillment, for release, filled her eyes. She arched upward, wrapping her arms about his neck, bringing her bared breast against his naked chest.

He cupped the fullness of her breasts and was awarded with a delightful moan. He lifted them and lowered his hair-roughened chest, pressing her down beneath him. As he rubbed his chest against her taut nipples, she cried out in longing for more, of what she did not know. Clinton knew, feeling her quiver beneath him and writhing against his manhood, which was close to bursting. He nudged her legs apart with his own.

When she felt his knee against her hot, throbbing womanhood, she felt sensation after sensation rivet through her. She whimpered.

The pink dust of dawn stole across the sleepy meadows. High in the sky, the fading silhouette of a crescent moon disappeared as the shades of twilight gave way to morn. The sharp, blustery wind whipped through the boughs of stalwart oaks, their bare limbs beginning to show the promise of green buds. Tiffany crawled from her warm bed to venture forth on this unusually cold March morning to view the new foal Moria had delivered the night before.

She quickly donned her clothing and ran from her bedroom. She eyed the newly polished banister that ran the length of the broad, curving staircase. A twinkle gleamed in her brilliant sapphire eyes as she looked over the railing below, finding no one about. Raising her leg over the banister, she straddled it and slid backward down its length, pushing herself off as she reached the end.

She turned and headed toward the double oaken front doors. “And where ye be goin’, child, not properly dressed and without a proper breakfast?” Tiffany turned, her unbound raven tresses cascading about her face. She looked at the old woman, the only female she had known since her mother’s death. “Oh, Clarissa, Moria delivered a foal! I must see it before I do anything.” Clarissa was unable to resist the pleading look reflected in the eight- year-old’s eyes, and with a shake of her head, she said, “Ye know how yer father is about ye bein’ at the stables, lamb.”

She waddled.over to her charge, pushing errant curls from Tiffany’s face. “And look at yer hair; now, ye know yer father is finicky about it not bein’ combed and bound, lamb.” “Oh, Clarissa, I’ll let you fix it later–I promise. I’ll only stay a moment, that’s all, I swear.”

She raised her hand to emphasize her promise. “Ye just stay out of yer father’s way, ye hear me?” “Oh yes, I will be as quiet as a mouse, I’ll not be a nuisance. I’ll be as Papa says, ‘seen but not heard.’ Thank you, Clarissa.”

She threw her arms about the nurse and hugged her. Then she pulled open the doors and began to leave but was stopped once again by Clarissa. “And, lamb, ye stop shinnin’ down the railing. We don’t want another broken wrist.” Tiffany smiled at Clarissa, nodding her head. Closing the door behind her, she bounded down the stone steps two at a time.

Lifting up her skirt to her knees, she ran down the crushed stone drive. The wind whipped her hair about and pinkened her cheeks with its bite. Reaching the stables, she paused at its threshold. She dropped her skirts, patted her hair in place, and took a deep, calming breath. She hoped her appearance would pass her father, the earl’s, muster.

This is a short excerpt from the opening of “” by Unknown, quoted for review and introduction purposes. All rights belong to the copyright holders.

Book Information

• Unique ID: dc8d57c8b4c572f9
• File Extension: .pdf
• File Size: 2,413,787 bytes (2.302 MB)
• Title: –
• Author: Unknown
• Pages: 367
• Language: English (en)

Reading & Word Statistics

• Estimated Reading Time: 598.59 minutes
• Total Words: 119,718
• Total Characters: 682,258
• Average Words per Page: 326.21
• Average Characters per Page: 1859.01

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