Complete Abandon

Emma, the impoverished daughter of a deceased vicar, storms into the home of the new Viscount Wakefield, John Clayton (after first spying on one of this well-endowed gentleman's sexual interludes with a bored, if voluptuous, mistress), to protest the eviction notices his estate manager has sent to villagers formerly supported at Wakefield. John has spent years being a rich, spoiled ne'er-do-well to annoy his father, and nobody has ever taken him to task before. Not only does Emma shape him up, but he finds her irresistible, and they become lovers after she offers herself to him in exchange for retraction of the evictions. She intended just to toy with him, but finds him equally irresistible. Ultimately, they do get together, but not before navigating complications from a jealous mistress, Emma's mother and sister, a perverted replacement vicar, angry bastard brother, and an unintended pregnancy.


"I want to make love to you..."

"Here in the forest." John's voice was tempting, seductive, urging her to do what she oughtn't.

"No, someone might come by. Someone might see us."

These woods are deserted. It will be fine."

She glanced around. They were so isolated. They could...

No! What was she contemplating? They couldn't!

He let go of her, guiding her so that she slid down his front, every titillated inch taking a leisurely trip across his anatomy. He unfastened her cloak and spread it on the grass. Pensively, she watched, not assisting or hindering him, not running off as she knew she should. He knelt and brushed the cloak flat, a smooth, inviting bed where they could romp and rollick. Then, he sat and held out his hand to her. She was so apprehensive, yet so excited, that she was paralyzed. If she joined him, she wouldn't be able to contain her baser impulses.

"Come to me, Emma." His ravishing eyes were beseeching, his smile beguiling her, luring her to her doom. He clasped her hand in his, his thumb tracing captivating circles in the center of her palm. "I won't hurt you."

Gently, he tugged on her wrist, and her knees buckling, she collapsed down. He reached out and petted her hair, her shoulder, his hand descending to her breast. He seized her nipple, squeezing the raised peak.

"What do you want from me, Em?"

There were dozens of potential answers she could give, from simple to difficult, from cheap to expensive. But what she said was, "I want you to touch me. All over. With your hands and your mouth..."