discovered that she was missing, one of the guests suggested using the hounds on her, which Hugo quickly acted on. When the guests realized what was happening, thirteen of them rode off on their horses to stop Hugo and the hounds. Before they reach him, a frightened shepherd tells them he saw the chase, but that there was also a hound of hell close behind Hugo. His horse soon passes them, riderless and on its way back. Even the hounds that were in pursuit of the maiden are now just whimpering about. Three of the riders continue on, down into a clearing where they find the girl dead and a giant black hound tearing out the throat of Hugo Baskerville. Holmes does not find the legend to be of particular interest, until Mortimer shows him a recent newspaper article. It describes Sir Charles as well liked and charitable, reflecting sadly that the recently deceased was only an inhabitant of Baskerville Hall for two years. His death was discovered when he failed to
" Sliding down into a prone position, he settled his shoulders beneath my thighs and rimmed the quivering entrance to my body with the tip of his tongue. Around and around. Ignoring my clit and refraining from fucking me even when I begged. "Gideon, please." "Shh. I have to get you ready first." "I'm ready. I was ready before you woke up." "Then you should've woken me earlier. I'll always take care of you, Eva. I live for it." Whimpering in distress, I rocked my hips into that teasing tongue. Only when I was soaked with my own arousal, creaming desperately for the feel of any part of him I could get inside me, did he crawl over me and settle between my spread thighs, placing his forearms flat on the bed. He held my gaze. His cock, feverishly hot and hard as stone, lay against the lips of my sex. I wanted it inside me more than I wanted to breathe. "Now," I gasped. "Now."
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