![]() ![]() The jaded and discriminating viscount preferred a different sort of woman altogether, one who took no one’s shilling but his and slaked no one’s need but his. Initially, he’d not been at all sure that he wanted to take a tumble inside a dusty horse stall with a local strumpet, especially not one of another man’s choosing. Rather shocking, that-both his lust and old Wally Waldron’s taste in women. Bathed in gold and brushed with pink by a shaft of late-day sun which streamed almost celestially through the open barn loft, her high, perfectly sculpted orbs bounced and glimmered as she moved, tempting a man’s mouth to unrepentant sin.Īs he leaned precariously forward to better peer over the door, the peaches bounced yet again, and Delacourt found himself unexpectedly eager to be led astray. And she had breasts like plump summer peaches. Lord Delacourt thought he’d finally found her. ![]()
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