Wild Desire
’ she asked, and shivered with desire and anticipation, skin prickling, that persistent, unsatisfied ache gnawing at the pit of her stomach, the unfamiliar feel of the open-crotched thong pressing against her sex lips.
‘It is. D’you like it?’ He watched her closely, eyes narrowed as he ran an impudent forefinger across the tips of her breasts. 'The bed belonged to the first marquis. Rumour has it that Queen Elizabeth slept in it, but isn’t that what they all say?’
It was a truly spectacular couch, more like something from a Hollywood movie set, ornamented with beaten gold and hung with embossed velvet drapes, four bunches of plaster ostrich plumes decorating its foot and head posts.