Glory, Glory

  Jesse was waiting at the foot of the aisle, his arm out for Glory, and she went into its curve willingly. “I’ll drive you over to the reception,” he whispered into her ear, managing to trace it once with the tip of his tongue, “but I can’t promise to take the most direct route.”

  Glory was grateful that everyone was looking at Delphine, who made a lovely bride in her pale rose dress and big picture hat, because she herself was blushing. “Jesse Bainbridge,” she scolded. But she let him put her into his grandfather’s fancy car, and she didn’t say a single word when he turned off down a sideroad and headed for the rest area overlooking the river.

  Her protests were cut off with a kiss that made her go damp all over, and when Jesse made the seat go back, she just went with it, already too weak to sit up without support.

  “Jesse, they’ll miss us—my mother’s wedding—”

  “We’ll be back in plenty of time for the pictures and the cake,” Jesse said, raising her billowy skirt to find her with his hand and caress her.

  Instinctively, Glory raised her knees up, then let them fall wide apart. Her hands gripped the tufted seats as Jesse ducked under her skirt and petticoats to tease her through the thin, tautly drawn panty hose. When he peeled them down, there were no protests from Glory, because he’d already created a need that made it hard for her to lie still.

  He parted her, and she heard his muffled chuckle under all those ruffles. She would have sworn he said, “Glory, Glory, Hallelujah!”

  ISBN: 978-1-4268-1636-9

  GLORY, GLORY

  Copyright © 1990 by Linda Lael Miller

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  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

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