Read an Excerpt
What She Craves
By LACY DANES
Kensington BooksCopyright © 2007 Lacy Danes
All right reserved.
Surrey, England, 1815
"Come on, Emma, hit him harder."
"Oh ... God ... good girl, Emma, good girl. Again."
She shouldn't listen to this. Hannah's brows drew together as she strained to hear the voices coming from Lord Brummelton's secluded summerhouse.
What were they up to?
The tone of their voices intrigued her. She stepped forward to continue on her daily ritual to the mill-blast, she couldn't get her feet to move. She needed to know what mischief was about.
Her maid, Gertie, said Mr. Roland arrived back from the war with friends but-
Another pleasure-filled groan floated on the fall breeze.
She stared at the octagon-shaped structure. Floor-to-ceiling windows that faced the river reflected the dappled light of the late-afternoon sun, marring the view within. Nothing. She couldn't see a thing.
"Oh God, Emma, his arse is so red. Reach around and touch his prick."
Hannah's eyes widened. Oh my. They were engaged in a sexual act.
"He's not ready, Rupert," Emma said in an exasperated voice. "Even though you could spend, I want this to last." Emma's squeaky voice paused. "Isn't Kenneth supposed to join us?"
"Who cares about Kenneth? Get on with it, woman!"
Biting her lip, Hannah hesitated. Maybe at a different angle she could see ... something. Her heart pounded in her chest as she stepped forward.
She stopped. Blast. Fallen leaves. The sound was so loud to her ears in the silence of the woods. They would surely hear.
The leaves scattered in a thick carpet all around the structure. She frowned. There was no way she could approach silently, but if they were engrossed in the love act, they might not notice.
A groan came from a man with a baritone voice, and shivers cascaded down her arms. Hannah closed her eyes. Good Lord, she longed for that sensation.
She didn't care if they heard. She needed to learn how to pleasure a man. At least two men were in that summerhouse engaged in wicked futter and were thoroughly enjoying it. Enjoying the act as her husband never had with her. Surely she would learn to pleasure a man if she could see them, and if by chance they saw her ... Well, she didn't give a damn.
Hairs on her arms and neck stood in anticipation as she determinedly crept forward, shuffling her feet so as not to make a sound. She would finally understand what made Simon leave her bed.
The path that followed the river went directly in front of the summerhouse. Please let there be no reflection on the glass at a different angle. Her heart sped in her chest as another groan filtered through the trees.
Once in front of the structure, she scooted behind a birch tree. The width was a bit narrow, but she could hide her face if she needed to. She inhaled the crisp fall air and closed her eyes. Please let me learn. Then she peeked through the windows of the cottage. Oh my. Her eyes bulged in shock.
A man with pale skin knelt on the floor, his breeches pushed down past his knees. A blond woman, younger than herself, stood behind him, a long thin switch in hand. She held the birch out to the side, and swoosh, the twig hit his bottom with a loud crack. Ouch. That's not what she expected.
The kneeling man flinched from the impact and groaned. Another deep groan came from a man who stood farther back in the structure.
He watched them as she did.
While giving orders to Emma, his penis jutted out of his pants. His long fingers stroked the length, settled at the tip, and then rolled. Hannah bit her lip. His well-proportioned hands stroked in a musical rhythm. Beautiful. His hands held an artistic quality.
In her mind, those big graceful hands slid down her body; working their magic on her bare skin. She trembled and her eyelids fluttered. Oh my! His fingers caressed her breasts, tapping as if playing a fine instrument. Then circled her nipples and he scraped his nail over the hard peak. Her nipples budded into the confines of her corset and she sucked in a tight breath with longing for his touch.
His hands slid up her inner thighs. The heat of him seeped through her dress as he jerked her legs apart, lifting her skirt so he could access every part of her.
She groaned and remembered the pictures from the books she read. Engravings of a man placing his tongue where his phallus normally fit. How she desired to experience a touch like such.
If this man lifted her skirts just like so, and kneeled between her legs he could give her that experience and more. His hair would tickle her inner thighs. His hands would burn marks into her bottom as he lifted her sex opening to his mouth. Her heart pounded against her ribs. Oh, how she wanted to feel a man's tongue tasting her inner core.
Her insides quivered. What would lying with this man be like? His hand slid over his prick again in a controlled move. Amazing. His expertise in this act shone in every motion. She licked her lips, wanting him to touch her, and create that wonderful tingling sensation in her body with his hands. What a shocking, yet delightful thought.
The man on the floor did not cry out in pain as the switch hit him again, but moaned in pleasure.
How could anyone find pleasure from a spank? Her eyes narrowed, and she tilted her head to the side. Surely she missed something. She blinked again. Yes, he found pleasure. His breath puffed in and out, and his bluish-red penis stood stiff as whalebone between his legs. Amazing. Strangely the sight aroused her. Her eyes widened. How could she like watching such an act?
She tried to take in the whole scene, but she couldn't stop staring at both men's sex. The man who knelt possessed a long narrow phallus, much narrower than the two of her experience, but a good thumb longer than Simon's.
The other of her comparison was a vague memory of beauty and satiny skin, to which neither of these could compare. Her heart sped and her skin heated as she remembered her youthful hand trembling, rubbing down the hot skin and plum-shaped head. She shook herself and pushed the pleasant memory from her mind.
Hannah flinched. She couldn't imagine Simon finding plea- sure from a spank, but then again nothing she did pleased him, so maybe she was wrong. He only found excitement in his whores and at his clubs.
The man moved from the back of the cottage into a better view. Hannah ducked behind the old birch tree and closed her eyes.
God, she was mad. She gasped for air.
The five lonely years since Simon's death had made her crazy with the urge to learn to please a man. First she had lowered herself to purchasing all sorts of bawdy books, books that talked of things such as this. And now ... Now she ogled Mr. Roland and invaded his privacy.
Her chest tightened. The reality was she would never hold the skill to master such pleasure. God, this was agony. She needed to leave before one of them noticed her. Indeed ... Her shoulders slumped. Oh poppiedust. She turned and stepped in the direction of Huntington cottage.
"Emma, dear, I want to feel your hot cunt while you frig Kit with your mouth."
Hannah flung around. This she couldn't resist. She read about kissing a man's sex in the Perfumed Garden and wondered if men and women truly found pleasure that way.
Emma knelt on cushions on the floor. Kit lay in front of her, his phallus standing straight as the trees that surrounded her.
Hannah's hands brushed the smooth trunk of the large birch tree. Imagining the hotness of smooth male flesh as her hands ran across rough cool bark, she slid her hands out to the edges, then up and down. In her mind her hands explored every ridge and vein of his sex. Her pulse increased, and her chest tightened. God, she needed to feel a man again. Her hands trembled. With all the books she'd read, the next time a man joined her in bed she hoped she would have an idea what to do.
Emma leaned down and her tongue traced the head of the man's penis. Kit groaned.
"Umm ..." Hannah's tongue slid out and traced her lips. She imagined the salty flavor of skin and the tapered shape of prick head as an erection pressed into her mouth. Her nipples peaked hard beneath her corset.
The other man, Rupert, knelt behind Emma. Flipping her skirt and petticoat up onto her back, he ran his hands down the swell of her creamy bottom. "Good girl, Emma. Take Kit in," he murmured, then slid his hand between her spheres. Hannah whimpered. Oh how she wanted rough male hands on her bum again.
"No, Emma. Pleasure Kit. Concentrate on nothing but him."
Kit groaned and thrust his hips up as Emma lowered her head down. Half his shaft slid into her mouth. As she pulled her head up to the tip, his shaft shimmered with her saliva.
Hannah's mouth watered. She wanted this, wanted to be Emma as she slid hot male flesh into her mouth and another man caressed her. She swallowed hard. How scandalous.
Emma's tongue slid out and traced the ridge; she puckered her lips, and slid back down the length.
Hannah could feel the pressure of a phallus as the head slid into her mouth. Saliva pooled and dribbled down the length of the prick as it throbbed and twitched. Her lips caressed the ridge and popped to the tip. Wetness dewed her skin, and her sex pulsed as a moan caught in her throat. She crossed her legs in an attempt to control the building desire and slickness slid down her leg.
Good Lord, she should tear her gaze away. Her chest tightened and her skin tingled. Too many years ... how she needed a man's touch. She had no prospects, no admirers. This was madness. Her lip trembled.
Kit groaned, and tears sprang to her eyes. She would never, could never, possess the ability to pleasure a man this way, but still she stood and watched. She was a fool.
Tingles slid across her body with every caress the threesome made. Her nipples strained against her corset as Rupert grasped his large stiff prick. He ran his hand along the length, then laid his prick in the crack of Emma's bum. Not between her legs, but in the crevice. He rocked his staff back and forth, sliding the head up and down the valley. His gaze fixed on the sight.
"Oh, Em, you have the most glorious arse." Gripping the base of his shaft, he slid his hand forward and back in the same motion as he rocked.
Simon had never done such a thing to her. In the short month he shared her bed, he always joined her in the same position. Him on top, with her legs spread wide.
Viewing such an animalistic position caused a hunger to seep through her. She could almost feel the hot skin as the head of a penis slid between the spheres of her bum, stretching her sex, spearing her womb. A man's muscles shaking against her bottom as he pumped into her like an animal in the fields.
Her sex spasmed and she arched her back in search of the imaginary prick. She wanted Rupert's penis to fill her, to bring her the blissful release she only created with her fingers on her own, but there was nothing there. She gritted her teeth.
Oh how she wanted to diddle a man in that position. This man. Shifting her stance, she gasped, and her nubbin throbbed.
His hands flexed, gripping Emma's bum and she imagined his fingers on the soft flesh of her bottom, gripping her hard. His arms jerking her back into his hips with controlled precise moves as his penis pushed into her sex again and again.
The delightful friction of her flesh stretching to fit him as he mated with her made her knees weak. One of his hands slowly trailed her hip to her stomach and then dipped to the curls at the peak of her thighs. Forging through the coarseness he fingered her dripping flesh and touched where they joined.
Her entire body trembled at the thought of touching the spot where they fused together. Slick and wet as he thrust into her, she would drag her fingers across his smooth burning skin and caress his sack as it hit her bottom on each thrust.
She clamped her leg muscles tighter trying to capture the sensation in her mind, and the delicious ache between her legs spiraled. Good Lord.
Emma continued to devour Kit's penis. She licked and sucked until on a groan Kit thrust his hips with abandon. Her mouth slid farther down his length, and he cried out in pleasure. His hands gripped Emma's curly hair as his face contorted in ecstasy.
Pain ripped at her heart and she closed her eyes. Please let me have the chance to make a man cry out in pleasure the way this woman did.
Her eyes fluttered open. Oh! Juices slid down Hannah's leg as Rupert slid his prick into Emma from behind. Blast it. She wanted to feel the delight they shared, but the only way to do that would be to touch herself. Trembling, she tried to restrain her hands as they slid down her dress. Her sex pounded with the beat of her heart as her face flamed with heat. What if someone saw?
Rupert pumped and flexed his ass as his penis speared into Emma between her bum cheeks. She could hear the wetness as he slid in again and again. Her fingers found the place between her thighs and pressed her skirts between them.
The fabric of her shift dampened and clung to the lips of her sex. She wanted to feel their slickness with her bare touch, but she didn't dare lift her skirts in the open and touch herself.
Imagining her fingers were Rupert's, she caressed the swollen folds through the muslin and brushed over the hard bud between. Lightning shot through her body and a groan bubbled up her throat. Every muscle in her body strained for release.
Rupert's breath labored and Emma whimpered with each stroke. His phallus shimmered with wetness and the head and skin shone an intense red each time his penis pulled out.
Hannah pressed the fabric into her opening, mimicking Rupert's stroke, and rubbed hard against her blissful nubbin. Her eyes barely slit open, she watched as Rupert grew closer to spending in Emma.
Rupert grunted, then cried out a deep thrilling sound that was music to Hannah's ears and body. Splendid contractions wracked her, starting from womb and spreading through her entire being. Her knees weakened and she braced herself with her shoulder against the tree. How she wished this magic coursing through her was created from his prick.
Kenneth Walker plodded down the path toward the river. He refused to stall any longer. They needed to be ready for the members when they arrived for the masque. The masters would be excited about the event and ready for bawdy play. If they weren't there to greet them when they arrived, things would get out of control.
Damn Rupert for not restraining himself until the festivities for a bit of nifty. Last night finally proved to Kenneth that he preferred his loving one-on-one. Emma had favored him, much to Rupert's annoyance, then all but wrapped her legs around him this morning before the group could rise.
He refused to be any woman's plaything. Just the idea that Emma was Rupert's and preferred other men made his skin crawl. Out of respect for Rupert, he let this morning's flirtation pass without comment.
Memories of his father's sobs in his aunt's library as his mother coldly told him she would not give up her lover chilled his spine. His jaw clenched and his cheek twitched. How she reduced the powerful Duke of Deventon to a slobbering lump still puzzled him. He shook himself to rid the thought.
Never, never would he let himself fall prey to that kind of humiliation or, more precisely, to that kind of woman for more than one night.
He rounded the turn in the path, and the summerhouse lay ahead.
"Emma, dear, I want to feel your hot cunt while you frig Kit with your mouth."
Shit. He stopped in his tracks. So much for his dallying. Turning toward the river, he beheld black hair and a deep blue dress peeking out from behind a white birch tree.
Well, well. His lips curved up. Someone peeped on Rupert and his games. He held in a chuckle. If Rupert knew, he would perform to the fullest and probably spill his seed within a second.
The woman's face slid out from behind the tree and gazed into the summerhouse. Her hands slid up and down the rough bark as if she stroked a large cock.
Damn, what a pretty thing. And oddly familiar. He glanced at her hands again as they clenched the edges of the bark. His chest tightened. Could it be? He stared back at her, black hair and a round face with pale clear skin.
God, that tiny nose and those lush lips occasioned his dreams. A groan caught in this throat as he stiffened. What stood behind that tree would be just as magnificent as it had been twelve years ago. Even better, she would have matured into a woman, soft, with flesh in all the right places.
Excerpted from What She Craves by LACY DANES Copyright © 2007 by Lacy Danes. Excerpted by permission.
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