A Growing Passion Read Online Free Page A

crest, she felt as if the world rushed in and collapsed on top of her. Vivid sensation spiked straight to the throbbing junction between her legs and she climaxed again with a small cry.
    In that blissful post-orgasmic world, she didn’t even realize he had adjusted himself over her again. “I’m twenty-six, not sixteen,” he whispered in her ear, kissing the side of her neck, “but apparently I can rise to the occasion faster than I thought. Can you feel it?”
    She could, her passage pliant, his staff swelling inside her, hard and extravagantly male.
    In disbelief her body could crave more so soon, she moaned as he lengthened and stretched her. He began to move again, his rhythm slower this time, her body excruciatingly sensitive to the friction of flesh against flesh, of hardness against softness, of male possessing female. It was too much, she thought wildly, this pleasure, this carnal joining.
    Leaning forward, he kissed her, whispering urgently, “One more time, Tori love, come for me one more time.”
    She did, crying out without thought, convulsing around his inexorable sexual invasion of her body, aware when he stiffened and pushed in deep, his eyes drifting shut, the pulse of his release something she could feel even through her own peaking pleasure.
    This time, when he gently withdrew a few minutes later, she didn’t object. The last thing she remembered, her body pleasantly exhausted, was his arms safely around her as they lay by the fire.
    She felt wonderful, she thought drowsily.
    But now nothing was going to be the same.
     
    “You did it, didn’t you?”
    “Did what?” Reaching for her glass of sherry, Victoria innocently lifted her brows.
    Across the small tea table, her friend, Elaine Rice, Lady Wharton, exclaimed vehemently, “You finally bedded him; the delectable young Mr. Forsythe! By heavens, you are practically glowing, child.”
    She blushed, but one of the things Victoria liked best about Elaine was that she was unconventional. “I could hardly walk the whole next day,” she confessed, lowering her voice.
    With her glass dangling in her long fingers, Lady Wharton leaned back and said wickedly, “Then perhaps you didn’t bed him, it sounds like he fucked you. I’m deeply jealous.”
    Outrageous terminology aside, what they had done had certainly not been tender romantic lovemaking, that was sure.
    Well, maybe not that first time, but she’d never forget how he’d kissed her afterwards, and then what came after. . . .
    “I used the seeds.” Victoria glanced at the doorway, keeping her tone low. “It was rather beyond sensational.”
    “I believe I shall have to go to America now and bestir myself to see the West,” Elaine murmured. “Anyway, it’s about time you did something about that delicious young man. What happens next?”
    “I have no idea. I haven’t even seen him since and it has been nearly three days.”
    “Well, I do know.” Her companion, tall, elegantly dressed, and despite the fact she was a decade older, still beautiful in a full-figured way, said plainly, “Stephen Forsythe is a gentleman, despite his . . . uhm . . . rumored prowess in the bedroom, and he has been in love with you for years. I predict a letter is on its way to your father already, clearly stating his honorable intentions.”
    Startled, Victoria choked on a sip of sherry. “Do you think so?”
    “Indeed.”
    “He’s been in love with me?”
    “Everyone knew but you, darling.”
    “But I don’t know if I want to get married.”
    “Then you should have kept your legs together and those seeds in that jar.”
    Frowning, Victoria stared at the ruby liquid in her glass. “Despite what happened, Stephen is rather a settled, traditional sort of person. I would guess he would want his wife to stay at home and bear his children rather than wander the globe in search of new species of plants.”
    “At least he isn’t the sort of husband to forbid his wife to have any interest in new species