What She Craves. Lacy DanesЧитать онлайн книгу.
recoil from this illicit act, but her body wouldn’t let her. Never in her life had she acted such.
“He is so right to have craved you for as long as he has.”
“Craved me?” she whispered. Another finger slid into her wetness, circled her weeping flesh, then pulled back out to tap her blissful spot. What was she thinking? Oh yes…He could have anything, anything he wanted.
“Indeed. As I do now.”
His hand left her breast and circled her wrist. Her eyes fluttered open, and she watched his hand pull her touch to his firm, hard phallus. Gliding her fingers along the solid flesh just beneath the thin robe, her touch traced the width, the length, then circled the head. If she straddled him and rode down on his prick, would he growl in pleasure?
“Ah.” His finger circled that spot between her legs, and her eyes shut. Every muscle wound tight as her need built to have him between her thighs.
Warm breath spread across her ear. “She is pretty, isn’ she?” a feminine voice purred. “A fine choice for him.”
Hannah’s eyes shot open.
Emma stared at her with a wicked smile, then glanced at Rupert. “I need you, master. There is a problem only you can solve.”
Rupert stared at Emma and blew his breath out.
“You are ready, Mrs. Rosworth. Pardon me.” Rupert’s fingers slid from her sex, leaving a blazing ache. He turned and left with Emma.
She wanted to drop down on her knees, as Timothy had, and crawl behind him, to please him in any way she could, to beg him to touch her again. Hannah shook herself and breathed in raggedly. How odd. She always wanted to learn to please a man but not like this. The pressure building within her made her feel as if her body would burst if she didn’t please.
Glancing around the room, Timothy stood gazing at her with heavy-lidded eyes. A smile touched his lips as he pushed from the wall and strode toward her.
“Artemis.” He offered his arm.
“Timothy.”
Good Lord, what did she just do? Heat washed her cheeks. She shook her head, mortified and demeaned by her urge to please. Her legs shook as she stepped with Timothy into the crowd.
Rupert could have made her do anything. Timothy steered her to the edge of the room. The urge to please Rupert still pulsed through her. This madness had to be the brew, but shouldn’t the urge to mate be greater than the urge to please?
Kenneth left his room, his head spinning. Damn. What the hell did he ingest? Wheezing, he tried to pull air into his lungs and clear his head. He would go outside and enter the ballroom on the far end. The crisp air might help shake loose the cobwebs.
Striding across the lawn, the cold night air pricked his skin, and he shook his shoulders. Come on, old boy. Clear your head.
If he wasn’t there to protect Hannah, anything could happen to her. He hastened his pace, and his heart pounded; he hoped the selection had not begun yet. Bloody hell, he would kill whoever did this to him. He had planned to meet Hannah at the door and keep her in his sight as she was awed and fascinated by what went on around her. Then he would have eased the brew’s effects by teasing her and fucking her all night. He blew out through clenched teeth.
Hopefully Emma gave her one of the seasoned hosts. Cool sweat touched his brow. Every woman reacted differently to Emma’s brew. One woman had spend after spend just by having him blow on her sex, but other times the women became so aroused they actually experienced pain with the need for release. He didn’t know how the brew worked, but if eased properly, the effect always resulted in a more sensual experience for both man and woman. The brew pushed their innermost desires to the extreme.
Whatever trait the brew heightened, he hoped Hannah’s host had experience and could ease her before pain arose. If he used the wrong ease or did nothing, things would slowly get worse. Shit. The idea of Hannah in pain because of him…He closed his eyes. He couldn’t handle that. Piercing pain sliced through his temple.
He needed to see Guss. The old gardener would know an antidote to whatever the hell he ingested. He was no good to anyone in this state. He clenched his fists. He was going to kill whoever did this to him.
Glancing into the ballroom through the sea of bodies, his body heated. In the midst of all that debauchery stood a slice of angel he intended to savor.
Red cloaks bobbed among the field of naked flesh. They were readying for the theatrics the selection would follow.
Half an hour, no more, and the ceremony would begin. That wasn’t a lot of time. Guss would be in the kitchen on the opposite end of the house. Shit.
He reached down, rubbed his hand along his cock, and called to mind Hannah’s deep crimson cunt with black lace. His tongue ran along her flesh as he lapped her juices, her sweet aroma filling his nose. His mouth watered. He needed that smell on him again. On his cock, on his hands, on his mouth. Damn, he even wanted the scent on his toes. He squeezed his crotch and gritted his teeth. Come on, damn it. All he needed was a slight rise.
Stroking firmer, he recalled her sweet exquisite scream, her body quivering, as she locked her knees to his head and spent. Bloody hell. Not a damn thing. If he entered the ballroom now, he would be no use to her. His cock would not stand. He turned on his heel and ran for the kitchen.
“Wantons and Wickeds, the festivities are to start with an instructional theatric of Aretinian postures of pleasure.”
The first of the entertainers—a young couple—wandered out onto the stage. Timothy stood beside Hannah and watched her intently. The woman, dressed in a long white silk robe with black hair that hung loose down her back, smiled at her partner. The man, one of the striking hosts who escorted women into the masked event, flexed his arms and shook out his legs.
Before tonight, Hannah never knew sexual events like this existed, and now she and fifty or so other guests would watch instruction on how to mate. How to pleasure. She shook her head and blinked. She really was here watching this. Heat seeped through her body as the man turned, and the woman untied the feather covering his sex.
His short phallus, covered with thick veins, jumped as she stroked the length with her hand. Then the woman placed a skin on the tip of the man’s sex and rolled the letter down. So that was what a sheath looked like. How strange. Would a man’s heat penetrate that skin? The man then helped the woman disrobe.
“Position fourteen,” Rupert called out.
The man lay down on his back, then pushed up onto his hands and feet. Hannah could see under his back and bum as he created an arch.
His ass clenched in the most fascinating way, like what she imagined it looked like during futter. Hannah’s hands fisted, as she squeezed his bum in her mind. Her nectar dewed her sex and her flesh throbbed. She gasped as the woman straddled the man facing away from him, then slid her fingers around the man’s hard phallus and pulled his prick toward her bum.
“Don’t pull the cart, dickhead of Cupid.”
Hannah jumped and sighted a second man speaking on stage. He read the Italian text from the I Modi.
“Because I want to enter by way of the pussy, not in the rear,” continued the man onstage.
The woman placed the phallus between her engorged red nether lips and sank down on the man. Everyone moaned. Applause rang through the room, snapping Hannah’s attention to the others in the room. This couple on stage pleased the entire crowd. She closed her eyes as her chest tightened, the ache within her homing in on her blissful place. Her hands slid down her body to between her thighs. She needed to ease the ache. Her finger slid easily into wet and engorged lips.
Hannah’s body tingled painfully. The words combined with the sight caressed her. She longed for Kenny’s phallus to spread her sex as slickness slid down the hard shaft and he filled her, pressing deep. Like the woman onstage, she would ride him until they both