What She Craves. Lacy Danes
hear laughter and groaning through the window. The party was already under way. Hannah. Shit.
The sound of her scream of rapture this afternoon rang in his head and eased a bit of the pain. He would bed her this night. His blood heated remembering the taste of her sweet cream on his tongue. But nothing swelled. He let out a long breath through his teeth and glanced down at his flaccid member. The devil, the drug did more than make his head split.
Emma did this with one of her brews. When he asked for Hannah to be invited, she certainly saw the desire, the pure elation in his face when Rupert said she was widowed.
He closed his eyes and pushed himself back to standing. The world spun, and he forced himself to stay still.
They both would find this situation incredibly funny and too irresistible to pass up. Walker succumbs to a female, a widow. A femme fatale. One of them gave him herb, he knew it. He stepped forward on wobbly legs.
Where the hell was Jerome? His valet always woke him. He staggered to the dressing room that joined his room and flung the door open. Light flooded him. Damn. Pain sliced through his head. Knees wobbling, he squinted and leaned against the doorjamb.
“Jerome?” he bellowed, then winced at the pain throbbing in his head. The door that led to the hall flung open.
“Yes, sir. Sorry, sir. I … I’m not well, sir.”
“What the hell is going on?”
Forcing his eyes open, Jerome stood in the same state.
“Bloody hell. Give me my tan robe and black mask.”
“Yes, sir.”
“How much of the party have I missed? Has selection begun?” His fists clenched. Bloody hell, if he missed the chance to bed Hannah tonight, he would go mad. No, he would kill Rupert.
“I don’t know, sir.”
“Hurry, man, we have no time to lose.”
His valet came toward him and pulled his shirt over his head with a wince. “The woman you asked about is here. I checked with Guss on the way up.”
Ah, sweet Hannah. He closed his eyes as Jerome held up his robe, and he slid his arms in. She came. Of course she did. He smiled. She couldn’t resist.
Good God, he was going to enjoy watching her as she awakened to what the underworld of society did with their free time. He had to see. Her curiosity, so great, so genuine, amazed him. He wanted to teach her everything he knew.
Now, if he could only get himself to the ballroom before selection and get his prick fit enough to serve her. He looked down. Grr. He may need help with that.
4
Priming
They turned into the hallway, and a tall man dressed in a red robe stepped in front of Hannah.
“Mrs. Rosworth, enjoying yourself?” Rupert’s baritone voice skittered down her spine.
“Yes, thank you for your kind invitation.” His emerald eyes stared down at her. He smiled wickedly, and her cheeks grew toasty warm. This man saw Kenny between her legs that afternoon. Good Lord. She lowered her head and tried to feign indifference she didn’t feel.
“You may leave, Timothy. Meet her at the stage in quarter an hour.”
Timothy bowed down deep, knelt, and placed his lips to the bare flesh of Rupert’s knee. Hannah gaped. A somewhat odd display for a man to give another man, but Rupert’s hand slid into his hair. A gesture that showed he didn’t mind.
Timothy stood. His warm fingers touched her arm, and gooseflesh washed across her neck.
He bowed his head. “Artemis.”
“Timothy.” She inclined her head.
He turned and his beautiful dimpled ass disappeared into the crowd.
“Take a turn with me.” Rupert offered his arm.
His long olive-skinned legs stood wide, partly covered in a dark red robe. A red robe that bulged at the apex of his thighs. The image of his prick sinking into Emma from behind flashed through her mind, and her heart sped. He found pleasure in watching a man receive a spank. Did he also enjoy receiving one?
His emerald eyes continued to stare at her, and a flush heated her skin. You ninny, speak to him. “I would be delighted.” Her breath hitched as she placed her hand on the back of his.
He walked with catlike grace, padding through the crowded room, head held high. An amazing man. His assurance, his presence, made people move out of his way without even noticing.
She stared down at those beautiful artistic hands she had wanted on her body so badly that day by the river, her hand so small next to his. His raw virility coursed through each motion he made. She was small and piffling in comparison.
When he reached the side of the stage, he stopped. Turning her, he backed her against the hard wood.
“May I touch you?” Though phrased like a question, the words were a demand.
Her body trembled, as his thumb drew circles in the back of her hand. Breath hitching, she stared at that spot.
“You already are.” Heat spread in a slow wash up her arm, and her breasts peaked.
“Indeed I am. Would you like more?”
God, yes. The urge to please him sparked strong and blazed, pulsing through her from the inside out. She was losing her mind. It was scandalous to accept advances from two different men in one day; it was wrong. She came here tonight to plea sure Kenny. For some reason she didn’t care. She wanted Rupert’s touch. Wanted to please him, and to please him, he needed to touch her.
She stared at his graceful hands and nodded.
“Ah.” He dropped her hand, and his touches traveled slowly up her arm. Sensation shot straight to the flesh between her thighs.
“Oh!” She closed her eyes. This was so wrong, but oh so good.
“Mmm.” His finger brushed the side of her breast, trailed to the already hard peak, and pinched. Her back arched, filling his hand with her breast as he squeezed.
“He has excellent taste. Always has.”
Her eyes shot open and settled on his chin. He kneaded again. “W-what?”
“No wonder he was in a panic to find out if you were wed.”
“Kenny?”
“Kenneth. Yes.”
Kenny wanted to know if she was married. Her heart sped. Everyone in this vicinity knew of her scandal. The widowed Mrs. Rosworth, suspect in her husband’s death. He wanted her and she allowed his friend to take liberties. What was she doing? She shouldn’t be doing this, but something in her couldn’t make Rupert stop.
The brew. Panic possessed her and her throat constricted as sweat slid down her back. The brew was affecting her mind, her desires, her actions.
Her body trembled, and pain throbbed in her temple. She needed to stop him, to tell him enough. Raising her hands to his chest, she pushed and jerked away as he pinched and massaged her nipple. Pulsing pressure slid through her womb with a need for release. She shook her head as her vision grew soft. Oh, all she wanted was his touch.
Rupert’s hand slowly trailed up the hem of her robe. How sinful. Just as she thought his caress would be. Her skin heated with dew.
“May I?” he said in that deep voice that made her tremble. Yes, indeed he could have anything.
“Umm-hmm.” She nodded and closed her eyes. His hand slid to the curls of her mound. Lightly flicking, he slid one long finger into her slick folds.
“Oh.” The most exquisite sensation. Her hips pressed forward into his hand. Two different men had had their