What She Craves

by Lacy Danes

Her hair fell loose down her back, tickling the sensitized skin. Fingers laced through and lightly tugged her tresses.

  Yes. She closed her eyes. She could do this. She needed this; anyone could touch any part of her, and she could not object. Her throat tightened.

  Only her voice could protest.

  No matter what happened, she would not talk back. Well, she would try not to. This night, strapped to this wall, she would overcome her past. Tremors shook her body.

  She would give control to take back the type of man she desired.

  The three men receded from her, and she leaned against the rough stone wall, head spinning lightly. Every move of her body rubbed the flesh of her tingling nipples into the sandy stone wall.

  The door to the street opened. A blast of frigid winter air sent shivers along her skin as the temperature changed from steamy to cold and back to hot again.

  “Good evening,” the man at the door boomed.

  “Well, well. You have snagged a prim pretty for your entrance decoration this night.” Was he referring to her? He obviously could not see her age. She held still, listening to the rustle of cloth.

  Warm hands spread over the small of her back to her hips. Her muscles tensed and jumped, pulling her body away from the startling caress.

  Blast. What was she about?

  “Tsk, tsk. There, pretty. Don’t you know not to move?” His hands left her body.

  The blow was coming; she tensed, waiting for the crack of flesh on flesh. To feel the sting of his hard hand against her tender skin, to know if she didn’t move, he would touch her kindly. Nothing happened. Her breath came out in a whoosh of disappointment. Maybe she was wrong about—

  WHACK!

  A large male hand hit her backside hard, sending pins and heat through her. Clenching her teeth, she forced herself not to make a sound.

  Warm air caressed her ear. “There, pretty, let’s try again.”

  His touch rubbed the burning brand his hand left, and wet warmth traced the heated flesh, soothing the redness. Lips kissed the mark as another gush of crisp air washed over her.

  “Good evening, my lord,” came the greeter’s voice.

  Another man. Her heart sped to a gallop as she imagined the feel of two pairs of male hands caressing her skin. She tried not to respond in any way to indicate her desire, but a small moan crept past her lips.

  More cloth rustled and then male murmurs. The man who kissed her flesh with lust trailed his hands up and around to her sides. As he gently caressed her breasts, tingles circled her flesh and peaked her nipples hard against the stone.

  “Till later, pretty.” Warm lips pressed the side of her cheek, then disappeared.

  Where was the other man? No one approached her and the room stood silent. She pulled on her arms and tried to shift, but the straps prevented her the slightest turn. But she could move her feet and her legs.

  Frigid air again caressed her.

  “Good evening.”

  The door closed and the warmth seeped back in.

  “Do you think Lord Brummelton will be attending this night?” a woman’s small voice asked with excitement.

  “I’m not sure, but we know his brother Rupert will be. He always attends and they do like to share so…” The woman’s deep sultry voice faded.

  Blast…damn…Her eyes squeezed shut. That voice. Maybe she wouldn’t notice. Every muscle in her body tensed.

  “Look what we have here, Janice. And the first one to show, no less.” Rustling cloth indicated clothing stripping away.

  “Holy crow. It couldn’t be, could it, Mary?”

  “Ah, Janice, I do believe it is. My question is, what would cause Lady Strike to lower herself to such a wanton display?”

  Cora went rigid. Just her luck her former teacher would attend. Biting her lip, she held back her typical stinging retort.

  Small dainty hands ran up the inside of her thighs.

  Damn. Straining, her muscles jumped and heated. She would have to touch her, wouldn’t she?

  Light touches smoothed the swell of her bottom, sending gooseflesh in its wake. The small feathery fondle slid to the red mark on her bum, then traced. Cool fingers pressed the heated tissue, arousing and taunting her to respond.

  “It seems someone has already tried to put her in her place.”

  Trembling, Cora’s arms shook against the restraints as Mary’s fingers pinched the red welt and held the skin.

  “Well, Cora, how does it feel? Are you aroused by this change of role?” Her teacher’s breath tickled the hair at her ear.

  “Ah, holding your tongue, are you? Very well, I can find out on my own.”

  Mary’s delicate hand traveled to Cora’s spine and into the crack of her bottom. Her sagging breasts pressed against Cora’s back as her nimble fingers slid into the all too telling slick folds.

  “Umm.” Mary licked Cora’s shoulder and wiggled her fingers.

  “Well, how is she?” Janice’s voice grew nearer.

  “Wet as the rain, dear Janice, wet as the rain.”

  Mary’s fingers slid into Cora’s pussy, and she tightened the walls around them.

  “Good girl,” Mary soothed as her other hand wrapped around Cora’s hips. With a jerk, she pulled Cora’s lower half from the wall, pressing into her for better exploration.

  Years had passed since a woman had caressed her body, the gentleness foreign, yet exciting. Dew sprang across her skin, heart pounding, her hips pushed back into Mary’s probing hand.

  “Yes, she does like it, does she not?” Janice’s voice squealed by her ear.

  Her hands, smaller than Mary’s, slid to her breast; fingers slipping between the wall, one on top of her nipple and the other below, Janice pinched. Mary’s expert fingers slid from her flesh and circled her button with moisture. Sensation seeped like a slow breeze through her muscles. She had missed this.

  Mary slid back into her sheath and Cora’s hips jerked. Muscles tight and trembling, she tried to hold back a scream of delight.

  “Well, well, dear. It is good to see you have put the past behind you,” Mary whispered in her ear. “Lord Dranger was a rascal not worthy of your fast.”

  No! Cora’s eyes squeezed shut, her whole body tensing at the mention of Matthew. The scar on her belly prickled beneath Mary’s arm and she wiggled. The wound always did that when she thought of him.

  She hoped to get through this night without the reminder, or worse, actually seeing him. Though, that was a bit of a dream now that Mary was here. Mary would not let her hide from or forget her past.

  Mary’s fingers slid from her wanton flesh and back up the crack of her bum, spreading her cream about her skin. With a quick harsh pinch to her nipple, Janice turned away. Mary’s hand caressed her bottom, then with a deep throaty chuckle, left her. “Good to see you again, dear. About bloody time.”

  Rupert’s body hummed as he watched the new lovely writhe beneath the ministrations of the two women. Her hair, a mass of tumbled dark corn, crashed in a storm of waves on her shoulders as she tried to contain her scream.

  He craved these moments when no one knew he watched. When people did what their bodies and instincts wanted, to hell with the consequences. If she would only give in and scream. He was sure it would be the desperate sound to send his vigor soaring.

  His face pressed harder to the two slits in the wall. He inhaled, trying to smell her arousal, but nothing reached his nose.

  The older woman, Mary, rubbed her hand over the spherical surface of the blonde’s arse, then laughed and left the entry.

  The woman, who stood strapped to the wall for all to touch and see, sagged against the leather restraints. Her back expanded as she inhaled a deep shuddering breath. Did she weep? No. His eyes narrowed. She tried to contain some emotion. But what? Desire. Fear. Or sadness. Maybe a mixture of all three.

  The door opened again, and a woman and man stepped into the entrance. As the woman slid back her hood, Rupert cringed. Emma.

  The damn wo
man tried to cuckold him with an attachment to Kit. How could she choose a scrawny man when she admitted Rupert was the better lover time and time again. Sure Kit’s hands knew how to rouse pleasure and pain, but…

  He is accessible. His heart is not tainted. Emma’s heated words filled his mind as he remembered shoving her out of bed for once again favoring Kit.

  Blister it. He had a heart, even if he hid it away beneath his fiery skin, kept only for himself to see.

  Jealousy wasn’t an emotion he possessed.

  How could one be the jealous sort when his deepest pleasure came from watching others, friends he cared about, pleasuring each other?

  Emma had wanted proof he cared. He shrugged. He couldn’t give it, not the way she craved. Their connection he had severed over best of a year now.

  No pain came from seeing her. He still watched her, watched her pleasure Kit as he always had. The only change was he no longer had the right to sink into her wet warmth once aroused. It didn’t bother him. Someone else was always willing to oblige.

  Emma approached the woman stretched on the wall, her fair curly hair shining in the candlelight.

  Holy hell. He blinked and blinked again. How did he misjudge that hair?

  Hair washed in a bath of raspberries that stained her very core. He had thought the strands as blond as Emma’s but, no, her locks held a touch of fire.

  Only one woman had hair her color. He groaned as his body tensed and his groin grew heavy.

  The woman tormented him in years past by turning down every advance he made. Cora Durand. Why was she here? Had she changed her mind?

  No, she would still find him repulsive. All of her protectors were the opposite of him, of everyone he knew. But then…Good God, woman, what have you come here to find?

  2

  The straps about Cora’s hands loosened, and strong warm touches squeezed and rubbed the muscles of her shoulders as her arms lowered. Prickles of blood flooded her veins. A delicious arousal seeped through her sore muscles as the large, long male fingers continued to massage and comfort her kindly.

  She rolled her shoulders and staggered back from the wall, slamming into a broad, heated chest. Strong arms wrapped about her waist and steadied her. The smell of leather and sweet smoky honey radiated from him, calming and arousing her like nothing she had ever experienced.

  “Come with me.” His voice, deep with a slight growl, skittered across her skin, bringing the image of a large ape to mind.

  His fingers lightly gripped the sensitive skin just above her hip, twinging her. Would her fading looks hold any sway with this man? Her body hummed at his touch. She wanted him to want her. How strange to desire something, someone, she couldn’t see.

  “Where are you taking me?” She stepped forward to see if he would guide her. His feet stayed rooted to the stone floor.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” he breathed in a deep raspy choke.

  “What?” Do I know him? Her muscles tensed. It was possible. She had deliberately erased every introduction to a powerful man from her mind. “Why I’m here is obvious. I want to experience all this house has to offer.” His fingers drew small circles around her hip bone. She did arouse him. His raspy choke played in her mind.

  “Not so obvious, considering your clientele.”

  His fingers stopped and gripped her hip as he dragged his tongue over her right shoulder.

  Delicious. Her body trembled, nipples hardening further to painful peaks.

  “You have me at an advantage, sir.” Thank goodness her voice held firm and hard; only her body betrayed his effect on her. His size, his smell, quaked her to the soul. She needed to know who the man was who pulled at her. “Tell me your name, sir, or remove my veil.”

  A deep resonating chuckle burst from his chest. His breath, warm and moist, caressed her neck. The walls of her pussy swelled with moisture, longing for him to touch her delicate flesh.

  “Someone you do not wish to know. Now, tell me what you desire here.”

  Damn and blast. Who did this man think he was? She reached for the ties of her hood. She had every right to know who handled her with such expertise, whose touch stirred her like nonesuch in her life.

  “Not so quick, woman.” His hands possessed her wrists before she could reach the hood, and she squirmed. How dare he. Her heart pounded, and her teeth clenched tight.

  Well, if she couldn’t find his identity that way…She arched her spine and rocked her bottom into his hips. Her hands, held firm in his grasp, lowered and brushed his thighs. He wore clothing. The smooth fabric of his trousers brushed her bottom and her fingertips.

  His breath grew ragged, and he released her hands. Wrapping an arm about her belly and snagging a fistful of her hair, he yanked her head back to place hot wet kisses along her jaw and neck, fluttering his tongue over her pulse in the column of flesh.

  By God, he was good. A tremor wracked her body, and her knees weakened. The fact she could barely stand spoke of years of wanting just this, of denying herself the pleasure of a physically powerful man.

  “Don’t toy with me, woman. Don’t play games. I’m not your kind.” Sultry breath rasped across her ear. His tongue circled into her ear’s crevice, and her legs parted involuntarily.

  Oh, how he was wrong. He was exactly the type of man she craved.

  A restrained tremble ran through the muscles of his arm about her belly. He was not immune to her. She was certain.

  His tongue swirled just below her earlobe, and shivers slid from that spot to her pussy, wetness slicking the folds. The aroma of her arousal was so strong in the room she could fairly taste the heady scent.

  “How can I know if you are my kind if you won’t acquaint us?” She wanted to introduce his prick to her dripping flesh, to writhe against him as he fucked her none too lightly.

  His breathing deepened and he growled, pulling harder on her hair and nipping the flesh of her neck. The hand about her stomach trailed fire to the curls at the apex of her thighs. She stilled, heart pounding, as a long finger slid into her and tapped her wet flesh.

  “Oh.” Her hips arched into his hand. With each tap, her pussy reached for the contact, spending more and more fluid on his fingers.

  His strong muscled arm anchored her to his body. He pulled her head back, arching her to him like a bow. His steamy mouth and tongue kissed and sucked the flesh of her neck.

  She was helpless to this man’s strength and will. Yet, he did not frighten her. If he would only tell her his name. Her body shuddered, wanting any part of him to bring her release.

  “Hmmm. Your body responds to my touch.” His finger tapped into her flooded flesh with different degrees of force. Each stroke was audible, and the air dripped with the scent of her.

  “Quite,” she rasped. She wanted to beg him to enter her, to fill her wanton body with his and diddle her until their bodies spent in exhaustion. But she couldn’t, not until she knew his name.

  “What do you want here, Cora?” The tip of his finger slid into the opening of her pussy.

  She bit her lip, whimpering as if she’d never been touched.

  His teeth scraped her neck. “Answer me.”

  “I…I…” His fingers left her pussy. “No.” Oh, he possessed her. She tried to pull her mind from the sexual web he had created. To stand on her own.

  “What do you want here, Cora?”

  “I…I want to experience what this house has to offer,” she blurted.

  “Which is? There are many things here, dear. Do you know what you have ventured into?”

  No, she didn’t, not entirely. She only knew what Matthew and Mary had hinted at before she left them and what her clients confessed when they squirmed.

  The members of this hell used her protectors as playthings. When one of the men wanted a taste of a male, one of her clients would be invited. She knew that. But she never got out of them what exactly went on with them or what this place was.

  “As I thought. Shall I enlighten you?�
� His tongue slid once again into the cup of her ear. “Any form of stimulation you might crave exists here. Any form.” His hand returned to between her thighs and tapped her already-sodden flesh. An unrestrained moan burst from her lips.

  His breath caught and he shifted his stance. He was just as affected by her. The idea that a woman as old as she could create this intense passion in this powerful man overwhelmed her. Her body shook. They were a burning flame flickering. All he needed to do was take her and their fire would engulf them both.

  “What you do—your flogging and making men squirm—only begins to touch what happens in this house.”

  She no longer cared what happened in this hell. She wanted to know what he fancied. Why he was a member.

  “And what excites you, sir?” she asked in puffed breaths, trembling, unable to control her body and the emotions this man created in her.

  He didn’t answer, and all his movement stopped.

  “Sir?”

  “I watch,” he whispered, deep and sultry, as he wiggled his fingers between her legs.

  “Watch?” The words barely passed her lips when his muscles shook with restrained force. “Y-you mean you don’t participate in any extreme wickedness?”

  “I do,” he said gruffly.

  Ah, he liked to watch others in wicked acts until he was aroused. Then he would take his pleasure.

  “Do you watch all forms of wickedness?”

  “No.”

  “What, then?”

  The thickness of his erection grew larger beneath the fabric of his trousers.

  “Nothing you need to know.” His body hardened and doused his flame. “Are you sure you wish to enter the remainder of this house?”

  “Nothing can sway me.”

  His arm loosened in her hair and about her stomach.

  “No, don’t!” Don’t leave me. The need to feel this incredible connection for a bit longer shocked her.

  “Don’t what, Cora? You don’t give orders here. If you came to try to order one of us about, you had best leave before someone takes you for jest and forces you.”

  “No, that is not why I am here. Tell me, sir, what do you watch?”