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Page 362
"Are you willing?" Geoffrey whispered.
It seemed to Joanna a very strange question to ask. She had forgotten he had promised not to take her again if she did not wish to risk a second hurt. In any case, she had no desire to speak and merely lifted a hand to pull Geoffrey's head toward her.
Geoffrey accepted the gesture as it was meant, but this time he took no chances. He kissed her and fondled her; he sucked her lips, her breasts, the little tongue between her nether lips. Joanna's passive pleasure changed to active desire. She whimpered and wriggled and uttered little cries. Twice she tried to slip her body under his, but Geoffrey was enjoying the drawn-out titillation of his senses which was impossible with the whores he had been using. With them he lacked the inclination for foreplay beyond the necessary stimulation of his own desire; he was too aware that the response was merely a bored simulation to encourage his generosity in payment.
Joanna was real. Every sigh and cry she uttered sent a pulse of pleasure through him. The salt taste of blood and woman made his shaft move as if it had a life of its own. Joanna was nearly weeping with frustration and excitement. She clutched at Geoffrey frantically, unaware that her long nails were scoring his body. She kissed every part of him she could reach until, when he twisted completely around to give his mouth a better purchase, his shaft touched her cheek. Beside herself with passion, Joanna kissed that too, sought to swallow it whole. Geoffrey stiffened and groaned, then hurriedly reversed his position.
The second time was easy. Whatever pain of unaccustomed stretching Joanna endured merely added to the exquisite pleasure. Fortunately, she took no long time to come to climax. With her first cry, in which surprise mingled with thrilled release, Geoffrey yielded to his own need. They subsided together, gasping and sighing.
"My, my," Joanna murmured, "oh, my, that was delightful."

 
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