Jenny said as she always did afterwards, never meaning it. She got up from her knees and turned to face Patrick. “I can’t do this anymore. It’s wrong, and should Ian ever find out…” Patrick tightened his belt into place before raising his eyes to her. She flushed at the look he gave her, all too aware of how she must look, her bodice gaping open over breasts he had recently fondled, her skirts still rumpled, straining over her large belly. His child, she moaned inside, this was Patrick’s child. At times, all she wanted to do was to run away with him, sacrificing everything she had just to be with him, a bond servant with nothing to his name. Patrick pouted. “I like my little wanton,” he said, sticking his hand up under her skirts. “So does my cock. Where would we go, he and I, for sport?” “I’m not wanton!” Oh yes, she was, a little voice told her, because all this man had to do was jerk his head and she came running, so eager to please, so eager for him to use her as he just had.
