Shared by the Coachmen

"You were thinking of them naked, weren't you, my lady? How they would look without those fine clothes. Perhaps you would run your hands over their bare chests and down, down their tight waists, then further until you had your hands around their rock-hard..."

My new coachmen drive me to distraction. I can think of nothing but what they might look like, feel like, smell like, under their smart livery.

Now we’ve been held up by a handsome highwayman who promises to rob me of my inhibitions and make my fantasies come true—if I choose to travel home without a guard.

As I drink tea and discuss turbans with the ladies of the ton, I have two options: choose to continue life as a decent, respectable widow, or give in to my shameful urges and allow the coachmen and the highwayman to give me the ride of my life.

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