Through the Wildwood

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Vanx Malic swallowed the last bit of mulled wine from the goblet the duchess handed him. He was as hard as Wildermont steel and she was purring loudly. Her hands were roaming his tan, shirtless chest with increasing desperation. Her lithe body was barely covered by a sheer gown that was stretched so tightly around her that her huge, dark nipples threatened to burst through the fabric. Vanx wiped the grease from the hearty slab of roast boar he’d just eaten on his sleeve, and then he clamped his hand on the curve of her ass. Even with only a trio of lavender-scented candles burning in the small but opulent chamber, the air had grown hot and steamy. The sweet, musky smell of her sex permeated the room. He was eager to taste her. Vanx hoped the innkeeper could hold his lips shut as tightly as he held his purse. His fleeting concern over the duke’s wrath was quickly wiped away as the hot, tickling breath of the man’s wife found his ear.

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