Читать книгу What She Craves - Lacy Danes - Страница 7

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 than the two of her experience, but a good thumb longer than Simon’s.

The other of her comparison was a vague memory of beauty and satiny skin, to which neither of these could compare. Her heart sped and her skin heated as she remembered her youthful hand trembling, rubbing down the hot skin and plum-shaped head. She shook herself and pushed the pleasant memory from her mind.

WHACK!

Hannah flinched. She couldn’t imagine Simon finding pleasure from a spank, but then again nothing she did pleased him, so maybe she was wrong. He only found excitement in his whores and at his clubs.

The man moved from the back of the cottage into a better view. Hannah ducked behind the old birch tree and closed her eyes.

God, she was mad. She gasped for air.

The five lonely years since Simon’s death had made her crazy with the urge to learn to please a man. First she had lowered herself to purchasing all sorts of bawdy books, books that talked of things such as this. And now…Now she ogled Mr. Roland and invaded his privacy.

Her chest tightened. The reality was she would never hold the skill to master such pleasure. God, this was agony. She needed to leave before one of them noticed her. Indeed…Her shoulders slumped. Oh poppiedust. She turned and stepped in the direction of Huntington cottage.

“Emma, dear, I want to feel your hot cunt while you frig Kit with your mouth.”

Hannah flung around. This she couldn’t resist. She read about kissing a man’s sex in the Perfumed Garden and wondered if men and women truly found pleasure that way.

Emma knelt on cushions on the floor. Kit lay in front of her, his phallus standing straight as the trees that surrounded her.

Hannah’s hands brushed the smooth trunk of the large birch tree. Imagining the hotness of smooth male flesh as her hands ran across rough cool bark, she slid her hands out to the edges, then up and down. In her mind her hands explored every ridge and vein of his sex. Her pulse increased, and her chest tightened. God, she needed to feel a man again. Her hands trembled. With all the books she’d read, the next time a man joined her in bed she hoped she would have an idea what to do.

Emma leaned down and her tongue traced the head of the man’s penis. Kit groaned.

“Umm…” Hannah’s tongue slid out and traced her lips. She imagined the salty flavor of skin and the tapered shape of prick head as an erection pressed into her mouth. Her nipples peaked hard beneath her corset.

The other man, Rupert, knelt behind Emma. Flipping her skirt and petticoat up onto her back, he ran his hands down the swell of her creamy bottom. “Good girl, Emma. Take Kit in,” he murmured, then slid his hand between her spheres. Hannah whimpered. Oh how she wanted rough male hands on her bum again.

“No, Emma. Pleasure Kit. Concentrate on nothing but him.”

Kit groaned and thrust his hips up as Emma lowered her head down. Half his shaft slid into her mouth. As she pulled her head up to the tip, his shaft shimmered with her saliva.

Hannah’s mouth watered. She wanted this, wanted to be Emma as she slid hot male flesh into her mouth and another man caressed her. She swallowed hard. How scandalous.

Emma’s tongue slid out and traced the ridge; she puckered her lips, and slid back down the length.

Hannah could feel the pressure of a phallus as the head slid into her mouth. Saliva pooled and dribbled down the length of the prick as it throbbed and twitched. Her lips caressed the ridge and popped to the tip. Wetness dewed her skin, and her sex pulsed as a moan caught in her throat. She crossed her legs in an attempt to control the building desire and slickness slid down her leg.

Good Lord, she should tear her gaze away. Her chest tightened and her skin tingled. Too many years…how she needed a man’s touch. She had no prospects, no admirers. This was madness. Her lip trembled.

Kit groaned, and tears sprang to her eyes. She would never, could never, possess the ability to pleasure a man this way, but still she stood and watched. She was a fool.

Tingles slid across her body with every caress the threesome made. Her nipples strained against her corset as Rupert grasped his large stiff prick. He ran his hand along the length, then laid his prick in the crack of Emma’s bum. Not between her legs, but in the crevice. He rocked his staff back and forth, sliding the head up and down the valley. His gaze fixed on the sight.

“Oh, Em, you have the most glorious arse.” Gripping the base of his shaft, he slid his hand forward and back in the same motion as he rocked.

Simon had never done such a thing to her. In the short month he shared her bed, he always joined her in the same position. Him on top, with her legs spread wide.

Viewing such an animalistic position caused a hunger to seep through her. She could almost feel the hot skin as the head of a penis slid between the spheres of her bum, stretching her sex, spearing her womb. A man’s muscles shaking against her bottom as he pumped into her like an animal in the fields.

Her sex spasmed and she arched her back in search of the imaginary prick. She wanted Rupert’s penis to fill her, to bring her the blissful release she only created with her fingers on her own, but there was nothing there. She gritted her teeth.

Oh how she wanted to diddle a man in that position. This man. Shifting her stance, she gasped, and her nubbin throbbed.

His hands flexed, gripping Emma’s bum and she imagined his fingers on the soft flesh of her bottom, gripping her hard. His arms jerking her back into his hips with controlled precise moves as his penis pushed into her sex again and again.

The delightful friction of her flesh stretching to fit him as he mated with her made her knees weak. One of his hands slowly trailed her hip to her stomach and then dipped to the curls at the peak of her thighs. Forging through the coarseness he fingered her dripping flesh and touched where they joined.

Her entire body trembled at the thought of touching the spot where they fused together. Slick and wet as he thrust into her, she would drag her fingers across his smooth burning skin and caress his sack as it hit her bottom on each thrust.

She clamped her leg muscles tighter trying to capture the sensation in her mind, and the delicious ache between her legs spiraled. Good Lord.

Emma continued to devour Kit’s penis. She licked and sucked until on a groan Kit thrust his hips with abandon. Her mouth slid farther down his length, and he cried out in pleasure. His hands gripped Emma’s curly hair as his face contorted in ecstasy.

Pain ripped at her heart and she closed her eyes. Please let me have the chance to make a man cry out in pleasure the way this woman did.

Her eyes fluttered open. Oh! Juices slid down Hannah’s leg as Rupert slid his prick into Emma from behind. Blast it. She wanted to feel the delight they shared, but the only way to do that would be to touch herself. Trembling, she tried to restrain her hands as they slid down her dress. Her sex pounded with the beat of her heart as her face flamed with heat. What if someone saw?

Rupert pumped and flexed his ass as his penis speared into Emma between her bum cheeks. She could hear the wetness as he slid in again and again. Her fingers found the place between her thighs and pressed her skirts between them.

The fabric of her shift dampened and clung to the lips of her sex. She wanted to feel their slickness with her bare touch, but she didn’t dare lift her skirts in the open and touch herself.

Imagining her fingers were Rupert’s, she caressed the swollen folds through the muslin and brushed over the hard bud between. Lightning shot through her body and a groan bubbled up her throat. Every muscle in her body strained for release.

Rupert’s breath labored and Emma whimpered with each stroke. His phallus shimmered with wetness and the head and skin shone an intense red each time his penis pulled out.

Hannah pressed the fabric into her opening, mimicking Rupert’s stroke, and rubbed hard against her blissful nubbin. Her eyes barely slit open, she watched as Rupert grew closer to spending in Emma.

Rupert grunted, then cried out a deep thrilling sound that was music to Hannah’s ears and body. Splendid contractions wracked her, starting from womb and spreading through her entire being. Her knees weakened and she braced herself with her shoulder against the tree. How she wished this magic coursing through her was created from his prick.

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…”

Hannah’s eyes widened. “Do I know you, sir? Please unhand me.” Yanking her arm again, his grip eased but did not fall from her body.

Her heart pounded so hard the beat made her hands shake. How could someone have seen her? Good Lord. This was the man Emma mentioned when Hannah first spied on them. He knew what she watched. Her cheeks grew hotter. She averted her gaze to the riverbed and stepped away from him.

“Not so quickly, sweet.” His hand stroked her arm, and lightning slid through her veins straight to the place between her thighs. Not now, blast you, damn body. She closed her eyes and tried to quell the shiver his caress caused, but failed. His muscles stiffened in return.

“Don’t say you don’t remember me.” The man shook his head at her as she tried once again to yank her arm free.

“Damn you, sir, let go of—”

“I believe I was the first man to ever touch you.”

“P-pardon?”

He inclined his head and raised his eyebrows.

Her mouth dropped open. “Kenny…Kenny Walker?”

He smiled. Then laughed. “Haven’t been called Kenny in ages, but, yes.”

Was this truly him? The young man with whom twelve years ago she had spent her most memorable summer. They had run through the woods, played hide-and-seek, and swum in the lake with her sisters and his brother. Her first infatuation, her first kiss. Good Lord. The young man who by just saying “Hannah” had made her heart pound and heat grace her cheeks with wicked thoughts.

She searched his face. His strong straight nose, angled cheeks, and dimpled chin were the same. His eyes, the same smoky brown that you could get lost in, stared back at her with intense heat. Her body dewed, remembering all that that hungry stare promised.

She studied his body. Oh my! His shoulders had broadened, and his chest, encased in a tight-fitting coat, left little to the imagination. Her breath hitched at sculpted thighs encased in tight buckskin breeches. A lump formed in her throat, and she swallowed hard, envisioning those legs tangled in hers.

A very fit, attractive, and well-muscled man stood before her. God, he was much taller than she remembered. Her memories…oh. Her eyes closed. His fingers as they slid up her skirts and into her wet folds, making her tremble in such a way she thought she would die.

Kenny gently stroked her arm and with his thumb traced circles in the fabric of her sleeve. Her nipples ached, pebbled hard, wanting the circular motion.

His hasty departure from his aunt’s after a summer of friendship and flirtation and his last words “I will bed you one day, dear sweet Hannah” slid through her mind.

She stared at his breeches where his erection bulged. He didn’t even try to conceal his arousal. He journeyed to the summerhouse today to have relations with his friends. He, like her husband, was a rake, with a bad enough reputation that she had heard of his adventures.

A deep rumble of a laugh came from him, and his erection twitched beneath the leather of his pants. Her cheeks grew warm, but she was unable to pull her stare from the bulge. All she wanted was to touch that ridge. God, she was mad.

“Let me tickle you, my sweet,” he said as he slid his finger beneath her chin and raised her eyes.

Eyes blazing with need met hers. Her sex clenched and she groaned. His words, the same he used all those years ago. She bit her lip. Her body knew the promise in those words. But what if she was as bad as her husband claimed? Kenny had been with many women since their encounter…

“Hannah? Please…” His voice, filled with raspy desire, caressed her nerves. She needed to be touched, and who better to touch her than the man who initiated her to the act of coitus?

“Yes, Kenny, touch me. Touch me.”