Flamingo Park – Margaret Way

For a few frightening seconds she thought she would faint dead away, and maybe she did faint, for when she came to her senses she was lying in his arms on the high-backed chesterfield sofa and the cruel pressure of his mouth had given way to a deep, penetrating exploration. It wasn’t even surrender, but a merciless subjugation. She wanted to cry rape and what’s the penalty, but there was no way she could free herself of this ravishing violation.

Dazedly she wondered how, hating him, she could love him at the same time. Her heart was beating tumultuously against her ribs and she didn’t know that the shawled collar of the jade robe had come apart and the light gleamed on her small, golden breasts, the rosy tips standing erect in arousal. A stirring was in her now that couldn’t be denied. She shuddered in a kind of anguished acceptance and Nick held her more closely while the stirring moved relentlessly all over her body, wave after wave of it, storming her defenses and dragging her under.

She couldn’t even think of the light and meaningless caresses she had received in the past. This was destruction, and it had been waiting for her for a long time. She must have been muttering incoherent little incantations, for he lifted his head in an attempt to hear her. “Kendall?” His voice, normally so dark and decisive, was very faintly slurred. She couldn’t answer him or even open her eyes.

She was reeling in mind and body with only the strength to twist her head away, but Nick put his hand under the side of her face and forced her head back to him. “I can hear your heart beating. You haven’t died.” The last vestige of pride remained to her. She realised then what he was offering her: physical ecstasy, but nothing of himself. It was like a stab wound to the heart. Her eyes flew open, but she was so dizzy she could hardly see.

“I hate you!” she whispered passionately. “Well, it’s surely not love. Maybe a virus.

All right, Kendall thought crossly, so Nick Langford had known her for years and was older and more experienced than she was – but did that give him the right to try and run her life for her? The trouble was, Nick practically was Flamingo Park, the up-and-coming town in Queensland where they both lived, and it was an unfortunate fact that he did seem to be continually getting her out of scrapes – but she was really capable of looking after herself, wasn’t she?

Or was Kendall’s feeling for Nick not dislike at all, but love? And why was she so afraid of falling in love with him? OceanofPDF.com His grip hurt as she began to struggle… “What a little coward you are, he said harshly. “You can’t act the hysterical little virgin forever. Get to know about life instead of running away from it.” “That’s what all seducers say,” she hurled at him.

“I’m telling you, Nick Langford, touch me and scream! “Of course, you could, but you won’t.” He pinned her glistening head with his hand. “The truth is, you little witch, you’ve been trying to bring me around to kissing you for some time.” “You crazy man!” Sheer rage overcame Kendall’s fear and she threw back her head. “Oh, you—damned men! Listen here, you conceited oaf…. ” His mouth covered hers completely, stilling her protest and stealing away her quaking breath.

OceanofPDF.com Table of Contents Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten OceanofPDF.com Chapter One OH, it was hot! A scorcher. She would wait another ten minutes, then take the beetle down to the beach. The afternoon had been a spectacular success. She had sold every last hand of lady finger bananas, most of the pineapples, pawpaws and watermelons, all of the avocados and a wide selection of her little potted plants.

It was amazing, her green finger, and in her family, rare. Many times her father said to her, “You amaze me, darling, the way you understand plants. What is it you do, speak to them?” She did. Sometimes she whistled or sang. The plants seemed to like it. Her father didn’t understand plants. He was a painter, a good one, who had bought the farm with the quaint notion that he only had to sit there for everything to grow.

Poor Harry! This week he was in Sydney trying to drum up another agent.

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: fe63f7a8e28703f3
• File Extension: .pdf
• File Size: 565,968 bytes (0.54 MB)
• Title: –
• Author: Unknown
• Pages: 291
• Language: English (en)

Reading & Word Statistics

• Estimated Reading Time: 261.09 minutes
• Total Words: 52,218
• Total Characters: 297,208
• Average Words per Page: 179.44
• Average Characters per Page: 1021.33

Most Frequent Words

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