Desire

Passages

Every passage tagged with this emotion in the Vela corpus. Search the body text, narrow by source or register, click through to a book’s profile to see how the passage sits with the rest of the work.

Page 102 of 344 · 20 per page

• From Scandalous Liaisons (2007)

  The heavy weight of him moving so feverishly between her thighs renewed the ache within her. Wanting to experience the pleasure again, Olivia writhed beneath him, clawing at his back, as her body rushed for the precipice. She sobbed when the rapture hit her, and then Phoenix tensed, rock hard, against her. Burning dampness flooded across her stomach in pulsing jets. He cried out her name as he shuddered in her arms. [image file=image_rsrc3ZG.jpg] Sebastian buried his face in the fragrant curve of Olivia’s neck and damned himself for being a heartless cad. His control was a source of pride to him, but he’d had none of it today. From the moment he’d seen her on the deck of the Seawitch with her chin tilted defiantly and a far too heavy sword in her hand, he’d been captivated. As the day had progressed, he’d become more and more enamored with her. Her beauty alone was impossible to resist, but the fire, the passion . . . He could no more have resisted touching her than he could have chosen to stop breathing. She’d been trying to assist him, to tend to his wounds, as no one ever had. And he’d repaid her by staring lustily at her exposed breasts and stripping her of his shirt when she’d wished to cover herself. Olivia had been willing, eager, but he should have walked away for her own good. He could never be the husband she deserved. Despite this, he’d spread her out, a feast for a starving man, and debased her with his ravenous touch. And damned if he didn’t want to do it again. Immediately. Sebastian rose onto his elbows and gazed down at Olivia’s beautiful face, flushed with his passion. He almost inquired if she was well, but the dazed look in her eyes answered the unspoken question. His expression most likely mirrored hers. Placing a swift, hard kiss against her parted lips, he untangled his limbs from hers. Olivia was all heat and desire, a fiercely passionate woman who, even in her innocence, had pleasured him almost beyond bearing. Untried and unschooled, she hadn’t the guile to hide her response or to play any games. He’d felt wanted, needed, in a way no one had ever made him feel before. Staring at her taut belly, shiny with his seed, Sebastian was swept with an overwhelming wave of possessiveness. He wanted to mark her like this everywhere, brand her completely, so that no other man would ever touch her. Her drowsy eyes followed him with such warmth it took his breath away. The way she looked at him, her palpable panic when he’d slipped on the rigging—how long had it been since anyone had cared for his welfare? So long ago he could scarcely remember it. Only his gratefulness for her tender regard had prevented her complete ruination.

• From Scandalous Liaisons (2007)

  He’d been watching her all evening. She bore his mark, although only he knew it. There was a new knowledge in her dark eyes, a subtle swing to her hips, a deeper color to her lips, that said she’d experienced passion. Julienne had always been alluring, but now . . . now he could hardly restrain himself from sweeping her into his arms, carrying her away, and fucking her until neither one of them could move. He’d heard her defend his honor to Fontaine when they passed by him, and her obvious irritation with the marquess had touched him as few things in his life ever had. Lucien knew he was too bold and aggressive to be accepted in the upper tier of Society, but he was too rich to mingle anywhere else. Men envied his business acumen and enjoyed the comforts of membership in his club. Women liked him for his pretty face and sexual appetite. Somehow between the two genders he was invited everywhere, but fit in nowhere. Except for those all-too-brief hours he’d spent with Julienne. He’d fit then. Perfectly. Lucien had followed her out to the garden, wanting desperately to claim her, and instead had watched her kiss Fontaine. And now she sat dreamy-eyed on the bench, while acidic jealousy ate at him. “Yes,” she admitted. “I kissed him.” “Why?” He had no right to ask, but he was unable to stop himself. She smiled—the same sweet, open smile that said she saw things in him worth seeing. “I wanted to know if it would feel the same as when you kissed me.” He wasn’t certain what he had expected her to say, but it definitely wasn’t that. Satisfaction filled him. She’d been thinking of him, even while kissing another man. His fists unclenched. “And did it?” She shrugged. “Well, I don’t know. It’s been a sennight since you kissed me. My memory may be faulty.” He reached for her hand and pulled her into the shadows. Staring down at her upturned face, his heart ached at her beauty and the trust she gave him so readily. His voice was husky when he whispered, “Allow me to remind you.” Lowering his head, Lucien kissed her deeply, making no attempt to hide his desire, determined to erase from her memory any thought of another man’s lips on hers. Only a week since he’d held her, yet it seemed like an eternity. Julienne returned his kiss with similar passion, her hands slipping inside his jacket and caressing his back. Her tongue brushed across his, and he tasted her sweetness. Nothing in the world quenched his thirst like the taste of her mouth. “Did it feel like this when he kissed you?” he asked. She moaned. “Dear God, no.” He thrust his thigh between her legs and lifted her against it. Her eyes were closed, her head thrown back, her lips wet and swollen from his kiss. Only a kiss, and she was melting in his arms.

• From Scandalous Liaisons (2007)

  “Who cares about proper? We’ve never done anything properly.” Hugh glanced again at the mirror, adjusting his cravat for the hundredth time, before resuming his pacing. What the devil was taking Charlotte so blasted long? He’d give her a few moments more, then he’d track her down. Who knew what had happened to her in this museum of oddities? Why, he shuddered just thinking about it! It was abominable for such a gorgeous creature to be rusticating out here, in the wilds of Derbyshire. It was a travesty he intended to rectify as soon as the cursed weather cooperated. When the long-awaited knock finally came, he threw open the portal with such haste that Charlotte stumbled backward in surprise. He was equally astonished. Dressed in a crimson silk gown of stunning simplicity, she stole his breath and his wits. With off-the-shoulder sleeves, low-cut bodice, and high waist, the dress featured no adornments of any kind. Charlotte herself wore no jewelry or gloves, and her coppery hair was piled atop her head in riotous curls. Her skin was pale as moonlight, and the scent of her, fresh and flowery, was an arousing counterpoint to the seductive look of her. It took all of the self-control Hugh possessed to keep from grabbing her and ravishing her upon his bed. Charlotte appealed to him on so many levels, he found it hard to collect them all. He watched, mesmerized, as her mouth curved in a knowing smile. She was thoroughly aware of the effect the sight of her would have on any man. “Shall we go to supper?” she asked. “Must we?” Her green eyes glowed with warm amusement. “I’m rather starved myself.” So was Hugh, but not for food. However, the thought of her company while eating his meal was somewhat pacifying. He stepped out of his room and offered his arm. The light touch of her bare fingers burned through his coat and shirt to his skin below, making him ache for her. Charlotte was tiny, the top of her head barely reached his shoulder, and from his high vantage, Hugh had an excellent view of the ripe swell of her breasts. He looked away, staring resolutely down the gallery. Unlike the demimondaines with whom he usually associated, it felt wrong to ogle Charlotte as if she were worth nothing more than a good tumble. She was intelligent and kind, as evidenced by her steadfastness in the face of today’s events. Fact was, he rather liked her, what little he knew of her, and since he had a few days to fill, he determined to discover as much about her as he could in that time. As they moved from one hallway to another and prepared to descend the main staircase, Hugh felt as if he were moving through time. The brightly lit and beautifully furnished part of the house faded into the dust-covered and rotting section as easily as they turned the corner.

• From Scandalous Liaisons (2007)

  Alistair walked over to the stool with as much aplomb as he could muster with a raging cockstand. He collected the bottle, then drank straight from it. There was little remaining. And as excellent a vintage as it was, it failed to dull the sharp edge of his hunger, which was aggravated by his new vantage—he could see every inch of the front side of her. Her head tilted back, and she looked up at him with slumberous eyes. “You are notably comfortable witnessing a lady’s toilette.” “You are notably comfortable being witnessed.” “Do you do this sort of thing often?” Discussing past lovers was never wise. He certainly was not going to begin now. “Do you?” “This is a first for me.” “I’m honored.” He moved to one of the chairs at the table and wondered how best to proceed. The territory was unfamiliar to him. Yesterday, he’d pushed too far too soon. He could not afford to make a similar mistake today, and yet he was presented with a naked, inebriated, uninhibited woman he had been lusting after for years. Even a saint would be sorely pressed for restraint, and God knew he was far from saintly. As Alistair sat, he noted the case of claret by the foot of the bed. The quantity spoke of a woman who occasionally sought oblivion. It troubled him to think she’d been so attached to Tarley. How could he compete with a specter? Especially one who had so perfectly suited her in ways Alistair never could. “Are you preparing to join us for supper?” he asked in as casual a tone as he could manage. “I shan’t be joining you.” Jessica leaned her head back against the rim and closed her eyes. “And you should not be joining me in my cabin, Mr. Caulfield.” “Alistair,” he corrected. “So ask me to leave. Although you should have someone here to assist you. Since your maid has been dismissed for the evening, I would be happy to make the substitution.” “You learned of my solitude and pounced straightaway. You are so reckless and impetuous and—” “—apologetic about the upset you experienced yesterday.” She sighed. He waited for her to explain. Instead she said, “My reputation is very important to me.” Although it wasn’t said, he understood the implication that it was not a concern they shared. “Your good name is important to me, as well.” One gray eye opened. “Why?” “Because it matters to you.” That lone, assessing eye might have been disconcerting if he hadn’t been determined to be completely honest with her. With a nod, the eye closed again. “I enjoy the feel of your gaze on me,” she said with surprising candor. “That enjoyment is quite distressing.” He hid a smile behind the rim of the bottle. She was an honest drunk. “I enjoy looking at you. I always have. I doubt I could change that. You are not alone in this attraction between us.”

• From Scandalous Liaisons (2007)

  Olivia undulated around him, over him, against him, her fingertips swirling over his flat nipples. Damn, she’d become so familiar with his body, she played it with the skill of the finest courtesan. She knew just where to touch him, where to stroke him, to turn him to putty in her hands. “I want you to stay with me, just for a short time.” She moved again, slowly, caressing his throbbing cock with silken, drenched heat. Sebastian gritted his teeth, his back arching against his will. “There will be balls and luncheons in our honor, callers to our home. I don’t want to endure it all alone.” She tightened her inner muscles on him and tweaked his nipples. His sac grew tight, his seed rising, heating. Bloody hell, he was ready to spend himself and she had just begun. “Of course, love,” he groaned, willing to give her anything she asked. “There’s no rush . . . for me to depart. I’ll stay . . . as long as you . . . think is best. Just do that again . . . oh, yes . . . again . . .” Olivia’s smile was triumphant as she rested her palms flat on his chest and began to ride him in earnest, lifting and falling in a pounding rhythm, moaning in a way that drove him insane. The part of his brain that still functioned realized she’d managed him to her liking with the use of her body, but the part of him presently being milked inside her didn’t care. She loved his cock—loved to ride it, kiss it, suck on it—and he loved to give it to her. He was mad for her, mad for her pleasure, mad for her touch. As her body spasmed around him and she cried out his name, Sebastian found he didn’t mind being managed at all. He clutched her hips in his hands, holding her still while he thrust upward into her, prolonging her pleasure. Only when her head fell forward in exhaustion did he allow his own release, spurting his seed in endless bursts against her womb, his body wracked with a pleasure so piercing it robbed him of all thoughts but one: she wanted to keep him with her. “What in hell are you doing?” Olivia cried as she stepped into the cabin. The knife in her husband’s hand clattered into the bowl of water on the vanity, creating a fine mess. Sebastian stood in front of her cherry-framed mirror, naked from the waist up and impossibly gorgeous. As always, her heart skipped a beat just looking at him.

• From Bright Lights, Big City (1984)

  I’ve already talked to Clara, and she says as far as the magazine is concerned, the parting was amicable and you’ll get a good recommendation.” You appreciate Megan’s wonderful efficiency, but getting fired really wore you out and you would just as soon put the question of new employment on hold. Right now you would like to drink some more of this wine and sink a little deeper into the upholstery. You would like to show Megan how grateful you are. You reach over and take her hand. “Thanks,” you say. “And don’t be afraid to ask for a loan to tide you over.” “You’re terrific.” “I just want to help you get back on your feet.” Not now, you think. You’d rather lie down. Bury your head in Megan’s lap and stay there for a week or two. The bed is just a few feet away. You lean over and place your free hand on Megan’s shoulder. The silk slides back and forth across her skin as you massage. No bra strap. You look into her eyes. She’s a rare woman. She smiles, reaches out and strokes your hair. “Everything’s going to work out,” she says. You nod. Her face registers a shift of thought, and then she says, “How’s your father doing?” “He’s fine,” you say. “He’s terrific.” You pull her toward you. You slide a hand behind her head and close your eyes as your lips find hers. You press her head against the back of the couch and run your tongue along her teeth. You want to feel her tongue. You want to disappear inside her mouth. She turns her head away and tries to withdraw from your embrace. You reach a hand under her shirt. Gently, she grips your hand and holds it there. “No,” she says. “That’s not what you want.” Her voice is calm and soothing. She is not angry, just determined. When you try to advance your hand she stops it. “Not that,” she says. When you try to kiss her again she holds you off, but she remains on the couch. You feel like water seeking its own level, and Megan is the sea. You put your head in her lap. She strokes your hair. “Calm down,” she says. “Calm down.” “Are you all right now,” Megan asks when you lift your head from her lap. The level of the room keeps changing. All of the surfaces swell and recede with oceanic rhythm. You are not quite all right. You are somewhat wrong. “I think maybe I’ll get up and go to the, uh, bathroom.” This is you speaking. Testing: one, two, three. Megan is helping you to your feet. She holds your elbow as she leads you to the door. “I’ll be right out here if you need me.” The black-and-white tiles on the floor keep moving. You stand in front of the toilet and consider. Do you feel sick? Not exactly. Not yet, anyway.

• From Bright Lights, Big City (1984)

  “Check that out,” Elaine says. “Silicone implants.” “I don’t know. She looks pretty damn flat to me.” “Not the tits—the cheeks. She’s got fucking silicone implants to make it look like she has cheekbones.” Tad comes back, pleased with himself. “Bingo,” he says. It’s somewhere past midnight. Anything that starts now is not going to end at a reasonable hour. You think about slipping out and heading home. All sorts of beneficial effects are rumored to accrue from a good night’s sleep. On the other hand, you wouldn’t mind a taste of that toot. Just enough to boost your morale. In a moment you are all en route to the bathroom downstairs. Tad lays out some fat lines on the toilet seat. Elaine and Theresa take their turns. Finally, Tad hands you the bill. The sweet nasal burn hits like a swallow of cold beer on a hot August day. Tad fixes another round and by the time you all troop out of the bathroom you are feeling omnipotent. You are upwardly mobile. Certainly something excellent is bound to happen. “Let us locomote out of here,” Tad says. “Where to?” Theresa says. “Where the boys are?” “Where the girls are,” Elaine says. You’re not sure if this is just having fun with movie allusions or something more pointed. Your merry band decides that Heartbreak is the destination. A cab is procured for the short hop uptown. Outside the door there is a crowd of would-be Heartbreakers with a uniform outer-borough look. Tad pushes through the supplicants, confers with the bouncer and then waves the three of you in. Elaine and Theresa are chatting away when it comes time to pay, so you cover one and Tad covers the other. Inside, there is still room to move. “It’s early,” Tad says. He is disappointed. He hates to arrive before everyone else is in place. He takes pride in his timing, being on time by being the latest. Elaine and Theresa disappear and you don’t see them for fifteen minutes. Tad discovers some friends, advertising people, at a table. Everyone is discussing the new Vanity Fair . Some are for and some against. “Utter confusion,” says Steve, a copywriter. “It’s the Abstract Expressionist approach to publishing. Throw ink at paper. Hope for pattern to emerge.” You go off to buy a drink, keeping both eyes peeled for lonely women. There don’t seem to be any at the moment. Everyone knows everyone else. You are on the anti-cline of your first rush. You are also experiencing the inevitable disappointment of clubs. You enter with an anticipation that on the basis of past experience is entirely unjustified. You always seem to forget that you don’t really like to dance. Since you are already here, though, you owe it to yourself to make a sustained assault on the citadel of good times. The music pumps you up, makes you want to do something, not necessarily dance.

• From Bright Lights, Big City (1984)

  We’re soliciting donations for children all over the world who have no drugs.” You buzz him up. You’re not sure how you feel about the advent of Tad Allagash. While you could use company, Tad can be too much of a good thing. His brand of R & R is nothing if not strenuous. Nonetheless, by the time he gets to the door, you’re glad to see him. He’s looking très sportif in J. Press torso and punked-out red SoHo trousers. He presents his hand and you shake. “Ready to roll?” “Where are we rolling?” “Into the heart of the night. Wherever there are dances to be danced, drugs to be hoovered, women to be Allagashed. It’s a dirty job but someone’s got to do it. Speaking of drugs, are you in possession?” You shake your head. “Not a single line for young Tad?” “Sorry.” “Not even a mirror I can lick?” “Suit yourself.” Tad goes over to the mahogany-and-gilt-framed mirror that you inherited from your grandmother, the one Amanda was so afraid your cousin was going to nab. He runs his tongue over the glass. “There’s something on here.” “Dust.” Tad smacks his lips. “In this apartment the dust has better coke content than some of the shit we buy by the gram. All us coke fiends sneezing—it adds up.” Tad runs his finger across the length of the coffee table. “It looks like you could teach a course in dust here. Did you know that ninety percent of your average household dust is composed of human epidermal matter? That’s skin, to you.” Perhaps this explains your sense of Amanda’s omnipresence. She has left her skin behind. He walks over to the table and leans over the typewriter. “Doing a little writing, are we? Dead Amanda . That’s the idea. I told you you’d get more nookie than you can shake a stick at if you tell the girls that your wife died. It’s the sympathy vote. More effective than saying she fit you with horns and kited off to Paris. Avoid the awful taint of rejection.” Tad’s first reaction, when you told him about Amanda’s departure, contained a grain of genuine sympathy and regret. His second reaction was to tell you that you could make a fine erotic career for yourself by repeating the story just as you had told it to him, adding touches of pathos and cruel irony. Finally, he advised you to say that Amanda had died in a plane crash on her way home from Paris on the day of your first anniversary. “You’re sure there aren’t any drugs around here?” “Some Robitussin in the bathroom.” “I’m disappointed in you, Coach. I’ve always thought of you as the kind of guy who saves something for a rainy day. The temperate sort.” “I’ve fallen in with bad companions.” “Let’s get on the phone,” Tad says. “We must locate party fuel. Cherchez les grammes. ” All the people who might have drugs aren’t home.

• From Bright Lights, Big City (1984)

  Maybe they know that the juxtaposition of red tomatoes and yellow squash will produce in the consumer an irresistible urge to buy a bag of expensive oranges. Megan buys fresh basil, garlic, romaine lettuce and tomatoes. “Now there’s a tomato,” she says, holding a large red vegetable up for your inspection. Or is it a fruit? Megan lives in a big fifties building on Charlton and Sixth. Two large cats, a Siamese and a calico, are waiting at the door. She introduces them as Rosencrantz and Guildenstern: Rose and Guildy for short, explaining that her first off-off Broadway role was Gertrude in a rock-and-roll version of Hamlet . “I didn’t know you were an actress.” “My first love. But I got tired of waitressing.” The apartment is a studio, not large, but furnished to give the impression of distinct areas. Against one wall is a double bed with patchwork quilt. In the center of the room a floral couch, and matching chairs are grouped in front of the largest window. At the other end of the room a rolltop desk is sheltered behind a row of bookcases. The tidiness of this arrangement is qualified by strident outbursts of plant life. The cats stroke themselves on Megan’s ankles while she hangs her shawl in a closet by the door. “How about a glass of wine?” she says. “Sure. Thanks.” The cats follow her into the kitchen. You read the bookshelves. In the examination of personal libraries is an entire hermeneutics of character analysis. Megan has functional blond maple shelves with a little bit of everything in them. The shelves themselves are just untidy enough to suggest actual use and just neat enough to indicate respect for the equipment. The books are organized according to broad categories: a shelf of poetry, a cluster of oversized art books, a long row of livre de poche French novels, music and opera books, scores of thin Samuel French drama scripts, and half a shelf of memoirs of life at the magazine. The latter is an entire genre. You pull out Franklin Woolcraft’s chatty volume, Man about Town; the flyleaf is signed: “To Meg, who keeps me honest, with Love.” Putting the book back, you catch sight of a spine that reads Exercise for Better Sex . Megan returns with two glasses of red wine. “Give me a minute to change,” she says. “Then I’m going to teach you how to make the world’s easiest meal.” Megan goes over to the freestanding wardrobe beside the bed. Where is she going to change? Just how casual are we here? As she digs through the wardrobe, you can’t help noticing that she has a terrific ass. You have worked with her for almost two years without noticing her ass. How old is she anyway? She removes something from a hanger and tells you she’ll be right back. She goes into the bathroom. The Siamese massages its head on your shin. Exercise for Better Sex .

• From Scandalous Liaisons (2007)

  Sebastian waited for Olivia at the bottom of the gangplank with deplorable impatience. He hadn’t seen her in a sennight, and that was a sennight too long in his estimation. Before moving to the Seawitch, he’d ordered Will to secure lodgings for her at the local inn when they docked, certain she would relish the opportunity to sleep in a bed after spending three nights in his hammock. She had probably been exhausted. He knew he was. Her cabin on the Seawitch had been hell on earth, a decadent room showcasing a massive, velvet-draped four-poster bed. The nights had been torturous, the silk sheets infused with her scent, a lingering redolence that burned through his blood. He’d dreamed of her naked and spread beneath him, his aching cock thrust deep inside her body, a ripe nipple trapped between his tongue and the roof of his mouth. The overwhelming need to fuck had forced him into town to find a lusty wench. He’d found several, fondled a few, kissed a couple, and left them all. Not even the most skilled whore could kiss like Olivia, who kissed him as if she would die if she couldn’t have him. He was quite simply mad for her, thoroughly besotted. Sebastian rolled his shoulders, attempting to ease the tension there. He rubbed the back of his neck and looked toward the inn, immediately grateful for the cane he affected. It supported his buckling knees when his wife came into view. The entire town seemed to freeze, the bustling noises fading into obscurity until only the cry of seagulls remained. The crowd parted, revealing Olivia’s golden beauty as she strolled toward him. Her rich tresses were piled atop her head—careless, artless curls tumbling in studious disarray. Her taupe-colored gown was of the finest silk, shimmering in the island sun like light on rippling water. It showcased her full breasts, tiny waist, and creamy skin to perfection. She wore a broad, feathered hat at a jaunty angle that shielded most of her face from his view, but revealed the full red mouth that had ruined him for any other. He was speechless, breathless, agonizingly aroused at the mere sight of her. Olivia was a diamond of the first water. And for the moment, she was his diamond. For the first time in his life, Sebastian was grateful to his father. During the last several sleepless nights, unable to keep her from his thoughts, he’d contemplated their present circumstances. Olivia wanted to maintain their marriage, if he could prove his identity. He collected that the benefits of such a union would be numerous for both of them. She deserved better than him, of course. He’d tried to tell her. If she insisted on having him, what fool would he be to cast her aside? He was not a foolish man. Reckless and selfish perhaps, but certainly not foolish.

• From Scandalous Liaisons (2007)

  He didn’t relax until the island was a mere dark shape in the vast ocean. It wasn’t finished, he knew. The Robidoux brothers would make trouble, for when Pierre was upset he would not cease his harping until Dominique took action. And Dominique Robidoux was a man to be reckoned with. Sebastian made his way to Olivia’s cabin and undressed silently. He slipped between the silk sheets and curled around her sleeping back. At the first touch of her skin, he became erect and fully aroused, aching for the comfort of her body. He lifted her leg over his hip and she roused, but made no protest. He dipped his hand between her legs, feeling his thick cream coating her sex and inner thighs. Like the beast he was, he found deep satisfaction in the primitive claim. “Do you wish—” she whispered. “No.” He buried his face in her hair, inhaling her scent. “Yes. But you’re sore. I can wait.” “I don’t want you to wait.” “But you will. Soon enough you’ll be begging me to cease my constant demands.” “I’ll never tire of you, my lord,” she assured him in a sleep-heavy murmur that caused him to press against her with a groan. Olivia spooned against him, nuzzling her luscious derriere against his enflamed cock with a trust that left him breathless. His stomach clenched. She’d entrusted him with her life, and he’d endangered it already. He had to put as much distance between them as possible and at the soonest opportunity. “Who is she, Dominique?” Pierre asked, staring after the vanishing ship. “The Countess of Merrick. What would you wager that Phoenix has gone to ransom her for a fortune we won’t get our share of?” “I don’t make bets with you. You always win.” Dominique smiled. “And we’ll win this time too.” “How so?” Pierre asked curiously. “You’ll see, brother. You’ll see.” Chapter Four Sebastian stepped onto the deck and turned completely around before spotting Olivia. Sitting on a barrel at the foredeck, she looked pensively over the water. He deliberately made his steps heard so as not to startle her. He smiled as she lifted a bottle to her lips and drank from it. “Care to share, love?” She passed him the wine. “How was your dinner with the captain?” “I’m not certain. I was distracted.” “Oh? With what, may I ask?” “With visions of you, naked in bed, eating supper without me.” “As if I would ever eat naked,” she scoffed. “And in bed no less. I, for one, do not relish crumbs on my linens.” Her mouth curved in a contented smile. “Do you never think of anything other than sex?” “Certainly. Just this afternoon I wondered what you were doing in the West Indies.” Her smile faded.

• From Scandalous Liaisons (2007)

  “She has no business being here. We had plans.” Julienne rose from the settee with her customary grace, and Lucien’s eyes became riveted to her. The epitome of the ton’s esteemed social perfection, she was nevertheless completely at home in his mother’s parlor, and he adored her for that. Dressed in a scarlet riding habit, she was stunning, with her glorious hair piled atop her head and her lush lips curved in a placating smile. As she stepped closer, her scent enveloped him, and his entire body hardened, as it always did around her. She reached out a hand and stroked his tense upper arm. “I’m sorry I ruined your plans for the day. Perhaps we can still go and take your parents with us.” At the slight touch of her hand, he lost his control and gripped her elbows, pulling her closer. He bent over her, lowering his voice so he wouldn’t be overheard. “I wanted you all to myself. I looked forward to it.” She laughed. “My maid is here. She would have come on the picnic, too.” “I might have been able to tolerate her,” he muttered. “But my mother will hang on every word.” “What could you possibly have to say that would shock your parents?” His mouth dropped to her ear. “How about how ravishing you look in that riding habit? I want to ravish you right out of it. I’m sporting an impressive cockstand, Julienne, just from looking at you. I want to take you somewhere, lift up your skirts, and lick you until you scream. I want to put my fingers inside you and—” “G-good h-heavens,” she sputtered, fanning her face with her hands. “Incorrigible rogue.” Julienne stared at Lucien Remington and saw the wicked glint in his eyes. She narrowed her own. Two could play his game. Her mouth curved in a seductive smile, and she ran her tongue along her bottom lip. “And while your hands are under my skirts, my wicked Lucien, I would have my hands down your trousers stroking that magnificent cock. You would be so enamored with the feel of my hands, you would lie back and allow me to have my way with you. I could take you into my mouth and suck you. Hard, the way you love it. My—” “Damnation!” Lucien backed away from her as if she had burned him, the crest of his cheekbones flushed with desire. Julienne grinned and turned to face his parents. “Would you care to join us for a picnic, Madam Remington? Your Grace?” Amanda smiled. “My goodness, the heat that comes off you two could start a blaze.” She flushed. Lucien was right. She was becoming a wanton. “Don’t be embarrassed, dear,” Amanda said with a grin. “I’m aware Lucien proposed to you. He wouldn’t have done so if you were indifferent to one another.” “Marriage?” barked the duke. “Does no one tell me anything?” “She refused him,” Amanda explained.

• From Scandalous Liaisons (2007)

  “The truth?” He arched a brow. “As you wish, sweeting. The truth is, I want you desperately. I want to take your lush body, spread it beneath me, and ride you until you can’t move. I want to breech your precious maidenhead and ruin you for any other man. I want to hear you moan my name while you come around my cock. I want to fill you with my seed over and over again, until you think of nothing but me and how well I can pleasure you.” Eyes wide, her tongue darted out to wet her bottom lip. “Good heavens.” “Heaven,” he purred. “Yes, I suspect it will be.” “It is your right to . . . to do those things . . . if you truly want to. I am your wife.” Sebastian crossed his arms. “Certain of that, are you?” He bit back a smile. He’d hoped she’d be curious. Her chin lifted. “Yes, I am certain of it.” “You went through my things.” She nodded. “And what do you think of this development?” Olivia clasped her hands, dislodging her lush breasts until they threatened to escape her low bodice. His mouth went dry as the desert, lust and appreciation flaring hot and heavy in his loins. Perhaps when his ardor faded, he would regret claiming his bride, but he couldn’t think of that now. He couldn’t think at all. “I think ’tis a good thing you like my wantonness, because I am about to become decidedly more wanton.” She took a deep breath. “I want you to seduce me now. Make me your wife in truth, so when we return to England you won’t cast me aside.” His heart stopped beating. Or rather it dropped between his legs and throbbed violently. “Why?” he asked, wanting her to admit that she wanted him badly enough to compromise herself. “Are you that determined to please your father? By all accounts you are his pride and joy. You can do no wrong in his eyes.” “I have never done wrong!” she snapped. “In his eyes or otherwise.” Sebastian held his tongue, startled at her vehemence. Her knuckles were white with tension when she spoke. “My mother died giving birth to me. How could I refuse my father anything, when he lost everything that mattered to him for me?” “I see.” It shouldn’t matter why Olivia wanted to remain married to him. He hadn’t wanted a wife to begin with and had no life to offer one in any case. But his stomach clenched into knots, and cold sweat dotted his brow. “So you follow his every dictate, including marriage to a stranger, to keep him happy.” Her gaze burned into his. “Yes, I married you because my father asked, but that is no longer the reason I wish to be wed to you. Now I care only for myself and what I wish to have.”

• From Scandalous Liaisons (2007)

  After a time, Olivia relaxed, somewhat deflated that he had given up so easily. With a sigh, she stood, tossed the pillow aside, and began to undress herself, no easy task with the row of tiny buttons running down the back of her gown. She was doing a fine imitation of a contortionist when impatient fingers brushed hers away. Startled, she screamed and spun to face her husband, who gazed at her with ravenous hunger and barely tempered frustration. “How did you—” She glanced around his large form, spying the very top of a ladder resting against her balcony railing. “Dear heaven. The audacity.” Arching a brow, Sebastian tugged at his cravat. “I am a pirate by trade, wife. A barred door is no deterrent to me.” “Wh-what are you doing?” she cried as he deftly removed his waistcoat, tossing it over his discarded jacket. “I’ve conquered. Now it is time to claim my booty. In this case, you.” He yanked off his shirt, revealing his powerful torso and rippling abdomen. He had become darker in the weeks they’d been apart, his skin was now a beautiful mahogany. Her mouth flooded. Good grief, she was going to drool. “Put your clothes back on!” she snapped, clutching her loosened bodice to her breasts. “I’m furious with you!” He grunted. “I’ve gathered that.” He tore open the placket of his breeches and shoved them to the floor. “Oh hell . . .” she muttered as his raging cock sprang free, hard as steel and massively engorged. Her nipples hardened instantly. Olivia forced herself to meet his gaze and saw the masculine satisfaction there. He knew damn well the effect his bare body had on her. “Ah, see how much I’ve missed you, sweet,” he purred in his luscious voice. “It’s been too long since I was last inside you.” She swallowed hard. “I don’t want you.” “Liar.” “I’m angry,” she complained, her resistance melting as Sebastian took his cock in hand and began to stroke the silken length. “This is how I’ve spent my nights, Olivia.” His fingers curled around his shaft and pumped hard. “Visions of you had me begging for a release that was denied to me. Sleeping in that bed where we’d spent so many pleasurable hours making love was torture.” His eyelids grew heavy as he pleasured himself. “Every night I would bring myself relief with pictures of you in my mind. Didn’t you miss me as well?” Olivia licked her lips, her gaze riveted to the dark hand that stroked his cock. She wanted him so badly she ached. She loved him. Despite everything, she still loved him. “This changes nothing,” she whispered. “It is only sex.” His grin was triumphant, and it pricked her pride. Sebastian might think he’d won this encounter, but she would prove differently.

• From Scandalous Liaisons (2007)

  Her breasts, so full and soft, were against his chest with only her transparent shift between them. Her legs, lithe and obviously powerful, were tangled with his. Gripping her waist with one hand, he watched her lips part and her pupils dilate. His cock swelled against her thigh. Her hair surrounded them in fragrant silk and he wrapped his fist into it, pulling her closer. Moistening his lips, Wulf longed for her to kiss him, his gaze riveted to her lush mouth. Every nerve ending in his body was alert, every muscle tense. Every breath pushed his chest into those beautiful tits. “Kiss me,” he ordered. The knife at his neck wavered. “I won’t.” “Why?” “You know why,” she whispered. “I know I almost died a few days ago and woke instead to the sight of you.” Wulfric lifted his head and nuzzled his nose against hers. “Kindness, a gentle soul—none of that would have revived me the way your desire did. You’ve no notion of what I owe you for that.” Sapphire sighed, her free hand brushing briefly across his cheek. “Then don’t ask this of me.” It was the regret in her tone and that fleeting caress that moved him. He didn’t have time to woo her properly, but he knew when it was wiser to retreat than press a shaky advantage. It took tremendous willpower to release her, but Wulf managed it. When Sapphire slid off him and returned to her seat behind the desk, his disappointment was acute. He sprang from the floor and landed on the pads of his feet with the grace of a cat. His stay with the lovely Sapphire was limited by necessity. Fortunately, the desire he felt was mutual. With that on his side, his rushed seduction just might succeed. Needing a distraction from his erection, Wulf asked, “How did I end up here?” “You were a gift.” Her low voice betrayed her response to him. “A gift?” He scowled. He was not an object to be passed around. A laugh escaped before she covered her mouth. Heat coiled inside him at the seductive sound. He almost didn’t care why he was here. It was worth it to experience the things she made him feel. “I believe you’re to be my punishment, Your Highness.” “Punishment? For what?” She gave an offhand shrug. “It was another time. Another life. It’s of no consequence now. The fact remains that you’ve been given to me, and we must make the best of the situation.” [image file=image_rsrc3ZR.jpg] Photo by David LaPorte ABOUT THE AUTHOR

• From Scandalous Liaisons (2007)

  He stroked the burning skin of his wife’s bottom. Pressing a hard kiss to her cheek, Sebastian pulled back when she turned her head to capture his mouth. “I won’t be gentle,” he warned. “I’m not capable of it now. Tell me to stop if this is not what you want.” He slid halfway inside her dripping channel, shuddering as he fought to walk away if she asked. She writhed beneath him, her long nails leaving scratch trails in the velvet counterpane. “Hurry, damn you!” “Don’t swear,” he growled, then rammed his cock balls-deep into her. Olivia cried out in agonized pleasure as Sebastian buried himself to the hilt within her, the force of his thrust shoving her hips hard into the edge of the mattress. He withdrew immediately and plunged again, stretching her almost beyond bearing. She felt a complete wanton, with her feet resting on the floor, her legs spread wide to better accommodate his frenzied thrusting. She was helpless, a stationary vessel for his lust. He reached down and wrapped his fist in her hair to hold her still while he fucked her. The hard tugging on her scalp as she moved under his fierce pounding only goaded her excitement. “I love you,” she gasped. “God . . . Olivia . . .” His rhythm faltered, his cock burning hot as it stilled within her. “I love you,” she repeated, shuddering beneath him as he swelled until it was almost painful. Lord above, he was massively built. She was so aroused, cream leaked from her body, causing a sweet sucking sound as he pulled out of her. She thrust her hips back, sliding her body back onto his shaft. “This is what you wanted, isn’t it?” he groaned, his thighs quivering against hers. “You like me at your mercy and desperate for you.” Sebastian pulled out and then pumped back into her again, his fingers digging with bruising force into her hips. “Yes, my love,” she moaned. “Be wild for me.” And he was. Pleasure built impossibly fast, the tight, heavy weight of his balls slapping repeatedly against her, until Olivia thought she would go mad with it. Her eyes slid closed as her entire body began to tremble. Sebastian growled, and she felt the hard jerking of his cock as he began to come in scorching bursts against her womb. The hand at her hip moved between her legs and began a frantic rubbing against the hard nub that ached for his touch. She groaned at the wracking pleasure, face buried in the counterpane, spurred by the feel of his hot semen flooding her womb and the skilled swirling of his fingers against her. Incredibly his pace increased, and she flowed without pause from one orgasm into another. When he finally collapsed against her back, Olivia was certain she would be unable to move for days, just as he had threatened.

• From Scandalous Liaisons (2007)

  “Olivia.” His kiss lost its faint trace of gentleness. He devoured her, his tongue thrusting rhythmically into her mouth, his fingers plucking and twisting, pulling on her nipple, until she wept from her core. Olivia ached all over. Her skin was too tight, too hot. She wanted to rip her clothes from her body and press her nakedness to his. Instead she caressed his skin, squeezing the bone and sinew beneath, relishing the way his body shuddered against hers. Lord, he smelled heavenly, like the wind and the sea, passion and pure male. When the knock came at the door, she didn’t even register it until Phoenix pulled away. “What is it?” he called hoarsely, one hand still working at her breast while the other pressed her heated face into his throat. “Captain, we’re ’aving problems wiv the other crew,” Will bellowed through the closed portal. Phoenix growled his frustration. “I’ll be on deck in a moment.” Heavy footsteps moved away from the door. “No . . .” she protested, lost in the scent of his skin, the warmth of his touch, the taste of his mouth. She would give anything for a respite from the madness that claimed her and knew instinctively that he was the cure. He pressed a quick, hard kiss to her lips. “I must go, sweeting, while I’m still able.” “No.” She tugged his neck toward her open mouth, and at first he resisted, then he crushed her against him, tight enough to feel the heat and hardness of his desire through her skirts. Olivia kissed him desperately, wantonly, hoping to make him as mindless with need as she was. Phoenix thrust her away with a curse. “You’re flirting with the devil,” he bit out. “Cease, before you get burned.” She winced as the door slammed shut behind him. Olivia wasn’t certain how much time had passed, but the sun had moved steadily across the sky and she knew the day was close to ending. The wind had picked up, pushing a welcome breeze into the cabin, cooling the air and her blood. Mortified by remembrances of her earlier behavior, her face heated and she squirmed in her seat. What in God’s name was the matter with her? She’d never in her life kissed a man, let alone touched him or begged him to touch her. And Captain Phoenix of all people! A man reputed to be as dangerous and deadly as a viper. Why didn’t she fear him? Why did she wish to bare herself to his gaze and open her body to whatever he desired? A knock sounded, and she moved quickly to the desk, collecting the pistol. “Yes?” she shouted, her heart racing. Had Phoenix returned? The door opened. “’Tis Maggie, milady,” her abigail called.

• From Scandalous Liaisons (2007)

  He bent over and pressed his damp cheek to hers, his erection resting in the valley of her buttocks. “I want you more than any woman I can recall, Charlotte. Your scent intoxicates me, the feel of your skin drives me to madness, and your mouth . . . I want to do obscene things to your mouth.” He kissed her cheek so gently, her heart clenched. “But I need answers, and I expect you to give them to me. Will you do that when I’ve finished?” At the moment, she felt like doing anything he asked. Hugh’s hands stroked down her back, soothing, caressing. “Are you in danger, sweet? Perhaps you hide here to escape something unpleasant?” Charlotte’s hands closed into fists. Seduction was one thing, as long as it was honest and without guile. “Don’t pretend to care, Montrose, when I hold no illusions that you do or will. You want sex. Fuck me, and be done with it.” He straightened abruptly, his voice tightening. “I’m not lacking in sex. It’s you I want.” She took a breath, then released it, sensing she’d pricked him and wondering why that mattered to her. “I swore not to tell anyone, Montrose. Can you collect that? I don’t know you. In a day or two you’ll leave and—” She gasped as he thrust his cock into her with no further preliminaries. Her fingers clawed at the desk and her back arched as pleasure seared her senses. He was large, so unbelievably built, and hard as steel, throbbing within her, until she felt nothing else. Hugh leaned over her, lacing his fingers with hers. “I’m inside you, Charlotte.” He nudged deeper, reminding her of that fact. As if she could forget. “I intend to remain inside you for the next few days. There are things I can do, ways I can take you, that will prompt you to tell me what I want to know just so I’ll allow you to come. Or you can be a good girl and just tell me now. Then we can spend the next few days enjoyably discussing ways to alleviate your problems.” Arrogant men were one of her deep irritations. “I am not without skills of my own,” she bit out, clenching deliberately around him, pushing herself into orgasm. He growled, his hands tightening brutally on hers, as she came around his cock. She threw her hips back to take him completely inside her, biting her lip to hold back her cries. It was a breathless, burning release, searing her senses, but it was only a tease, a brief respite, and as he swelled in response, she writhed in torment, needing more. Hugh withdrew from her, then slid forward again, making her feel every thick, silken inch, stretching her deliciously, until she thought she would die of it.

• From Scandalous Liaisons (2007)

  With one hand under her thigh, Lucien lifted her leg, opening her wider. The head of his shaft found her, and bending his knees, he pressed for entry. She was so tight, but so hot and wet. She felt wonderful, and her helpless moan as he slid deeper into her made him mindless. His entire body was wracked with shudders as he forced himself to press slowly, carefully. He was generously sized, and Julienne was so small. He couldn’t bear to hurt her. He watched her face as he took her, her features pale in the moonlight, like the statue behind her. Her eyes gazed luminously into his, their depths burning with desire and undeserved affection. She should be frightened, but instead she trusted him implicitly. The way she looked at him made it impossible to breathe. He stilled, held rigid by the moment. Julienne was correct. He couldn’t take her like this, like a whore in someone’s garden. And he couldn’t make her hate him. It ripped at him to even think of it. With a tortured curse, Lucien pulled away, the heavy weight of his erection slipping from her body. She sobbed in protest, and the sound broke the heart he’d forgotten he had. With his eyes squeezed shut, blocking out the sight of her, Lucien turned blindly away. His chest heaved with his breathing, his body hard, his blood hot. His cock ached with the pressure of unspent desire, every muscle burning with tension. Damn her! He cursed the day he’d set eyes on Julienne La Coeur. His hands clenched into fists as he struggled to control the shaking of his body and the torment in his mind. And then suddenly his cock was drenched in moist heat. Instinctively he tried to back away, but Julienne’s hands gripped the cheeks of his ass and kept him still. He looked down, his eyes wide with stunned amazement, as she took more of his shaft into her delectable mouth. In all of his life, with all of the women he’d been with, in all of the positions and places he’d been, Lucien had never seen anything as erotic as Julienne sucking his cock on her knees in the grass, her breasts spilling over the top of her gown, her lush form turned to silver in the moonlight. Her attentions were unschooled, innocent, and all the more effective because of it. Her tongue swirled around the head, her mouth pulsing with a gentle suction, her fingertips kneading the clenching cheeks of his buttocks. She pulled her head back and then pushed forward again, her mouth stretched wide to accommodate his size.

• From Scandalous Liaisons (2007)

  She twisted at the waist as he approached, hiding her bare back. “Both,” she admitted. She raised a finely arched brow. “I did not take you to be a man of vanity, Mr. Remington, but if you are, and you require confirmation of your attractiveness, I would be more than happy to oblige you . . . in the morning. At the present time, I would appreciate—” “I’m curious, my lady,” he interrupted, his mouth curving intimately. “How would you confirm my attractiveness?” Julienne grew wary at the hot flicker she saw in his eyes, the same look he’d given her in his office. She liked it, but Lord above, she was naked! The whole situation was . . . thrilling . . . but far beyond her experience. Clutching the sheet firmly with one hand, she held out the other to halt his advance. He stopped immediately. “What do you want?” “To ravish you.” He said it so simply, his expression so earnest, that she was momentarily rendered speechless. Oh, he was wicked. And far more interesting than the other men of her acquaintance. “You can have any woman you want.” “No.” His smile was wistful. “I can’t have you.” Her breath caught. “You’re very good,” she said finally, honestly awestruck. She’d never seen such a talented rogue. “Charming, seemingly sincere. I can see how you’ve managed so many conquests. But really, I am not worth the effort, I assure you, although I am flattered.” Remington laughed. “Sweetheart, you’re amazing. You dress as a man to sneak into my club, tolerate my extorting you into spending the night, and then feel flattered when I barge into your room and tell you I want to ravish you.” His voice softened when he said, “I wish I could keep you.” The expression on his face made her heart race. Julienne felt light-headed and dizzy all over again. Then she was struck with a thought that made sense, unlike all the others that swirled in her head. “Have you been drinking?” He moved casually to the chair and sat. “Tell me why you want to find your brother, and I’ll tell you why I came in here.” “If you’re interested in conversing with me, can you at least allow me to dress?” His blue eyes glittered with eagerness. “In the negligee or the trousers?” Her mouth fell open. This really had to be a dream. An odd, wonderful, bizarre dream. “I don’t know how to deal with a man like you, Mr. Remington.” She was out of her depth. “You can start by calling me Lucien,” he suggested. “Then you should probably begin screaming. Most debutantes would have run from the room in terror by now. I’m a stranger to you except for my scandalous reputation, which decries me as a hedonistic seducer of women.” She smiled. “I’m not afraid of you. You’ve no need to force yourself on a woman.” “Who said I would have to force you?” he purred seductively.