Chapter Seven
“Ah! You are a randy wench!” the horny rascal declared as he slapped Rebecca’s ass. The crack smart.
“Ooo, my,” she coyly replied, plopping into his lap and embracing his neck. He was a little drunk, but then, she was too.
By candlelight the world was a different place. This may be a new prison, but Jessica’s house was the most unfettered place she’d ever been. She and rest of Jessica’s brood wore teasing garments: see-through silk and dainty corsets, ribbons, perfume, musk and a bit of red wine dripping down their chests, staining elegant brothel finery with the fire of passion. Laughter like another intoxicating brew adorned the room with light—like the candelabras—a dancing kind of light.
Rebecca had this handsome rake totally in her charms, his hands moving their way
