by Jorja Lovett
“John . . . .” She practically begged him to end her torture and slide into her.
Instead of complying, he kissed the skin at her neck and across her collarbone, leaving her so sensitive she thought she might come again if he so much as looked at her. She writhed and moaned beneath him in some frustration until he entered her in one sleek, satisfying thrust.
As they moved together, neither the time nor the place mattered. Madeleine knew they were meant to be together forever.
About the Author
Jorja is a British author, with both Irish and Scottish roots, which makes for a very dry sense of humor; a necessity when living in a country where the climate is more suitable for ducks than humans. By day, Jorja is a mild-mannered pillar of virtue. By night, she is a purveyor of smut and a writer of filth. Well, that’s how her other half describes her, with his tongue firmly in cheek, and who is she to argue?
http://jorjalovettauthor.weebly.com
