What She Craves. Lacy Danes

      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.

      Hannah Hay, the Marquess of Wolverland’s eldest daughter and the first woman to touch his cock, stood watching his friends as she stroked a tree-sized prick in her mind. Only her imagination could make such a leap. His smile grew bigger and his cock throbbed. Lulling his head back, his fingers found the ridge that pressed against his buckskins and he stroked.

      Hannah’s hands had been so small and soft against the tender flesh of his youthful prick. His body shook. He had longed to touch her for weeks. When she finally consented, he had been so aroused that he spent after one stroke of her silky hand.

      His fingers tightened upon the ridge of his straining shaft, and he forced his eyes open to watch her as she spied on Rupert in awe and fascination. Her face was still so easy to read: curiosity, pleasure, and arousal showed clear as day on her chinadoll features.

      Her pink tongue slid out and traced her lips, then her mouth opened as if taking a prick between their fullness. Damn, those lush lips would feel amazing on his cock. Wetness seeped into his pants and his prick strained. Closing her eyes, she sucked in the sides of her cheeks.

      Good God! Without a doubt Emma sucked Kit right now, and Hannah wanted to suck someone too. Raw need flooded his body, and he stepped forward. He would walk to her and offer his body like he did all those years ago.

      His boyish voice came back to him. “Come now, Hannah. Let me tickle you.”

      She had been awkward then, just as he had. His mouth watered as he touched his boyhood tongue to the crevice at the base of her throat and tasted her skin. She would taste the same. He knew it.

      The smell of her perfume and the sound of her laughter. Shaking hands, trembling bodies, and sloppy, urgent kisses. His throat constricted. God, the way she had looked at him and gently touched his face. No woman since had been able to measure to her genuine kindness when his world shattered. This time what they shared would be different; no one would force him to leave. This time he would bed her and bed her well.

      “Ahhhha!”

      The cry of passion snapped him back to the sight at hand. Emma moaned and whimpered. Kit surely spent and now stroked her as Rupert had his way. They would be done soon, and he wanted Hannah to know he watched her watching them.

      He cleared his throat loud enough for Rupert to hear in the cottage.

      Hannah did not budge, but her hands slid down the front of her dress.

      He shook his head and smiled. Just like her to be so absorbed. She probably wouldn’t notice if a herd of sheep wandered through. Bending down, he picked up a stick and tossed the twig at the tree she stood behind. The foot-long branch hit square against the trunk and she jumped. Her gaze flew to him as he stood in the path to the summerhouse. He grinned. Yes, dear, someone is watching you.

      The trail was the only way she could go. If she went past the summerhouse, Rupert would see. She glanced at the house, then at the path. Her face flamed crimson.

      Ah, Hannah, how you flatter me. He did not know there were still people around who blushed at such things. With her head lowered, she turned on her heel and cut through the trees to the riverbank.

      Oh no, you don’t, my sweet Hannah. In five long strides, he came up behind her and clasped her arm.

      She pulled, but his grasp held firm. “Let go of me, you beast!”

      “Sweet, sweet Hannah…”