The Dashwood sisters love too passionately…and, it seems, without reciprocal feelings from the men they choose. But lust can change a man…and a woman.
If love is never sane, then lust certainly is all passion.
Elinor Dashwood cannot explain her affection for polite, reserved Edward Ferrars. In contrast, her younger sister Marianne endlessly extols the visage and virtues of dashing John Willoughby. Frustrated and lonely, Elinor yearns for Edward's touch and some declaration of his regard. Yet she loves him.
Marianne eagerly surrenders to rapture in Willoughby's arms—and cannot even consider the constancy of quiet, compassionate Colonel Brandon. Neither sister can escape the draw of lust. But as they learn more about those men they adore, they learn that love can be both sensible and sensational.
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About the Author
She becomes an author who can write about those romantic places. With a passion for cowboys, spies, rakes, knights in shining armor and their gutsy women, Cerise DeLand is an author who adores an alpha male with a tender heart and a need for a smoldering erotic love affair with the right woman!
Cerise is a Top 20 Best Selling author on Amazon with more than three dozen works published in erotic romance, and she is also an award-winning author of mystery, mainstream and romance with St. Martin's Press, Pocket Books and Kensington. Her books are on numerous book clubs, including Featured Selections of The Mystery Guild, Doubleday and Rhapsody. And when she isn't dreaming up fiction or traveling? Cerise is a fabulous cook and an avid history buff.
Busy lady. Happy writer.
Read an Excerpt
The carriages were then ordered. Willoughby's was first, and Marianne never looked happier than when she got into it. He drove through the park very fast, and they were soon out of sight, the entire party, save Elinor, laughing at their departure.
Marianne exulted in Willoughby's dashing act. Curling her arm through his as he drove, she settled against him.
"I daresay, my dear girl, I feel your body purring like a cat's."
Gazing up at his striking face, she admired his roguish beauty and the fact that he was hers. "When I am with you, I am a cat."
He reined the horses to a halt and caught her against him. "I like you wild and clawing at me. Shall I encourage you to do that?"
She tossed him a saucy glance, her shoulder up, her chin to one side. "Do as you will, Willoughby. I am yours."
Capturing her hand, he pressed it to his chest. But she was not satisfied with so staid a sample of his charms. She trailed her hand downward to his flies where her fingers cupped his swollen flesh and kneaded his manly attributes.
"I say," he gasped, his hand covering hers. "You are a minx. I lose my breath, my mind."
She arched a brow. "But not your erection."
"Never. Not with you in my reach."
"I pray you, show me this proud declaration of your regard for me."
"No. You are but a girl."
"Your girl, you rogue." She massaged his cock and balls. "This package must be unwrapped." She worked at his buttons and soon his red warrior stood straight up, the helmet bold and proud, droplets of delights oozing from his slit. "Oh, this is quite perfect, Willoughby. I have never seen anything so tall and thick. Oh. And he moves! He jerks for me. Shall I reward him?"
"Do, do," Willoughby encouraged her, sighing and biting his lower lip. "He awaits your fine touch."
She rubbed her thumb over the pearls dribbling from his seam. "He gives more and more. I am enchanted, Willoughby. What more can I do to show him my enthusiasm?"
"Oh," she enthused and bent to the act. "He is luscious. Hot and hard, the skin soft and yet so malleable. How do you do this, Willoughby?"
Laughing, he collapsed backward to the seat and let her have her way. "It is natural, my pet. I give all to you. That is my fondest pleasure."
"Do you, dear sir?" Teasing him, she kissed his cock once more, licking her lips between her blessings to his member. "Show me your aunt's house then." She took all of his fine manhood down her throat, hearing him groan his approval of her act.
"Shall I?" he seemed to ask himself more than her.
"Of course. We need more…room for our pleasures, would you not say?" She let her eyes dance at him. The merry idea of a couch, a bed, a carpeted floor to lay him down and suck on his marvellous member filled her heart with rapture.
"I do, I do." He pushed her up from him, fumbling to button his flies. "I need to have your mouth on me until completion."
"Completion?" She sat back, allowing him his haste and preening that she had led him to it, even though her breasts ached and her lower body pulsed with need of him. "What is that?"
He caught her chin. "Heaven."
"Take me there," she entreatied him. "Now."
With a shout of joy, he seized the reins and off they went through the woods, down a lane, round a bend to turn at last into a drive fit to hold three carriages abreast. Marianne opened her mouth, the taste of his musky member still on her tongue, and gasped her delight.
"Built when George the Second sat the throne," Willoughby said as he whipped the horses faster down the lane. "Two parlours, two dining rooms, a grand ballroom, ten bedrooms. At last count, eight staff."
"Oh, marvellous," she praised the sight of the divine little house as she grasped his arm, noting his strong resilient erection. "But will they intrude on us? I hope not. I wish to have you to myself, dear Willoughby."
"I shall instruct them to stay well away." He gathered her close and set the whip across the horses' backs once more. "Total and utter abandon, we shall have."
"As we always do," she encouraged him in their mutual agreement to enjoy all to the last degree.
He urged the horses to a halt before the main door, but when he helped her down, he led her toward a side door so that the servants might not note where they went inside the house. Then up the back stairs, he led her to a charming yellow sitting room where the sun shone invitingly upon all the furnishings, the linens and the carpet.
Marianne stood at the opened doorway, delighted with the view. Willoughby drew her inside and shut the door softly, the latch clicking quietly in the lock. He turned her to him, his hands shaking as he unbuttoned her bodice.
"Let me see my two beauties. How I have hungered to taste them today." He took her heavy breasts from her chemise, her nipples, she proudly noted, hard as diamonds from the expectation of his tongue and teeth upon them. "Oh, how luscious your sweet strawberries, my pet."
"Nibble on them, Willoughby." She thrust her darlings forward, the better for him to suckle and bite.
He did her the honours lavishly, making such ravenous lewd noises as he feasted that she arched backward, mewling, lost in his touches.
"Shall I offer you my cock now, dearest? Are you ready to have me to completion?"
She swayed, rubbing her hips against his and feeling the power of his attraction to her. "Let me have you. I will do you proud, good sir."
On a shout, he tugged her to the thick Turkish carpet. There, rolling on his back, he undid his own flies so quickly and efficiently that his member shot out from his breeches, tall and red and ready for her.
She giggled, palming him. "How long he is. Drooling in anticipation of me."
"I beg you," he growled, thrusting his hand into her hair and scattering her pins to the rug as he pulled her face to his cock, "do this now before I die for want of you."
She surveyed his impressive cock and his very heavy balls. He smelled of musk and his own good self. She could eat him alive and still not get enough of him, he was so dear, so fiercely dear to her. Yet, to honour him and ensure he never forgot this fine hour when she serviced him, she took her time. She licked his tip. She savored his pearls. She dropped again to surround him with the pleasure of her delicate lips. She held him at his thick root and laved his entire length. At this, he thrust up a hand to his forehead and begged for more of her care. Smiling, she lapped at his cock, beneath, around, swirling, taking, giving, pulling at him gently until he gasped and held her head to his member. Instinctively understanding that somehow this was that mysterious completion he discussed, she let him lead her now and she sucked him, all of him, all the way down and up, quickly, more quickly, until he bucked his hips at her and into her mouth, she felt the gush of hot thick seed. And she milked him, sucked him, drained him dry with such gusto and aplomb that he groaned and rolled back and forth, his beautiful cock slick and glistening from her ministrations.
At once, he grabbed her, kissing her furiously on the forehead and cheeks. Why did he not kiss her on the mouth, she wondered as she tried to influence him to do that. But he won and then pushed her to the carpet herself.
"Your reward, my pretty pet, is the same delight."
"Completion for you? Of course," he said chuckling. "Come, do not be shy now as I have wanted to see all your flowery folds. I have felt their dew. Now I wish to be the honey bee and drink as I should directly from the petals. Lie back. That's right. Let me lift your skirts. Oh, my pet. No drawers today? How prescient of you to be naked. What a jewel you are. There, how does that feel?"
She let her thighs splay open wider, the touch of his fingers to her chat so comforting, so natural, so romantic and right.
"Tell me, dear girl. You must encourage me."
She arched a brow at him. "I think you know what you are about, Willoughby. You have stroked my cunny so often these past weeks. You know what I like."
"Ah, yes," he crooned and threw up her skirts higher so that she could not see his face as he looked at her female flesh. "I do like your labia." He squeezed one. "Fat and coated with juice to welcome me. I like your hair, too." He combed it and she sighed, drifting, dreaming and swelling at his touch.
"What do you like about it, sire?"
"How thick it is. I wish to shave it one day soon."
"Shave it. Really? But why?"
"The better to suck your petals into my mouth.""Try now anyway." She encouraged him, her hand going to his hair and her fingers sinking in the soft wealth of it. "I want your lips on me."