There’s nothing quite like a night at the opera.

Philadelphia, 1859: Caro’s unhappy life as a kept woman changes irrevocably when she meets a rough-and-tumble stagehand in this erotic short story…


A burst of air chilled her overheated skin, and she shivered.

“Caroline,” he murmured, blatant appreciation coloring his voice.

“Caro,” she corrected with a mumble. She refused to acknowledge the disadvantage at which he had her, clothed modesty to stark nudity. “I—”

But she didn’t have to the chance to say anything more, because his mouth covered hers. Every hint of gentleness was gone as he crushed her to him. She reveled at the steely strength of his arms as they banded around her, one hand cupping the back of her head, the other sliding sinuously down her spine until he reached her buttocks. His fingers delved the cleft until he found her slick entrance. Without warning, he shoved two fingers into her tight channel.

She writhed.

“Caro,” he groaned against her mouth. “You’re so wet.”

His fingers thrust in and out, twining together inside her with each decisive jerk of his wrist. her sex throbbed around him; she’d never been so close to orgasm with so little effort from her partner. “Mr. Vaughn…Thomas…” She didn’t know what to call him.


2011 © by Edie Harris