What She Craves. Lacy DanesЧитать онлайн книгу.

      KENSINGTON PUBLISHING CORP.

       http://www.kensingtonbooks.com

      Acknowledgments

      Thank you Bri, Debbra, Linda, Ria, Sasha, Shelli, Steph, and Steve! Without you I would never have learned how to write a good story.

      Huge hugs to Eva Gale who pushed me to write Night of the Taking, the story that sold this book for me and to Sasha White for teaching me to write hot!

      Thank you Karen Hopkins and Pattie Steele-Perkins for guiding me to my fabulous agent Roberta Brown.

      Thank you Roberta for having faith that I write a good story and it wasn’t just a fluke. You truly are the best agent! I am extremely lucky to have you!

      Thank you John Scognamiglio for taking a chance on me off a ten thousand word short. Your guidance has been wonderful and my stories are stronger because of it.

      Thank you Mom for being understanding about what I write and supporting me when I needed it.

      My life changed drastically because of this book. I am truly grateful for the support and education given by my friends and family during this emotional time of change.

      Lacy

      Contents

       Lust’s Vow

       Checkmate

       Night of the Taking

      1

      Longing

      Surrey, England, 1815

      “Come on, Emma, hit him harder.”

      WAACK.

      “Uhhh.”

      “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—

      WHACK!

      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.

      CRUNCH.

      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