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.

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• From Scandalous Liaisons (2007)

  He rolled her over, capturing her other nipple with his mouth while his hand caressed the length of her body and dipped between her thighs. To his delight, she opened her legs eagerly, and he caressed her lips with soft, gentle swirls, pinching them together, then moving his fingers across the hard, swollen nub in matching cadence to his suction on her breast. Her lithe body began to undulate next to his, and he threw a leg across her hips, grinding his erection into her thigh, his body seeking a relief that would be denied to him. It was a hell of a time to find his conscience. Impatient, Julienne arched into his hand. Lucien obliged by venturing a finger inside her again, softly stroking. He pulled out with exquisite slowness, then pressed forward again. With a patience that surprised him, he took his time, loving her gently until her body welcomed his touch with a rush of moisture. She breathed his name, and he was nearly lost. Lucien released her breast, afraid of hurting her as his jaw clenched with the effort to retain his control. His finger, slick with her cream, slipped out, and then he entered her with two fingers. He fucked her faster now, pulling back to watch her face as she struggled against her approaching orgasm, her skin flushed, her nipples tight and hard. Despite her virginal state, she was so aroused that he had no trouble pleasing her, his fingers twisting and rubbing, constantly changing tempo and direction, to keep her on the edge. Julienne writhed, her fingernails digging into his arm, marking him on the outside as she’d marked him on the inside. Her knees fell outward, opening her cunt completely, and then her hips began to move with him, rising and falling to meet his thrusts. “Don’t fight it, sweet,” he coaxed softly as her head began to thrash, her skin so hot it burned his. “Just allow it to happen.” The room was quiet except for the harsh sounds of their breathing and the slick sucking noises that accompanied the pumping of his fingers. Julienne turned blindly toward him, her lips parted with panting breaths, and he thrust his tongue between them, loving the taste of her. When she stiffened beneath him, he pulled away, pinning her down with his leg as she arched and cried out his name, shivering beneath him. She held his fingers so tightly in her orgasm, he could barely move them, but he managed it anyway, drawing out her pleasure. He was stunned watching her, never having seen anything so beautiful in his life. And he would never be allowed to see it again. Lucien was torn between masculine satisfaction and utter, wrenching despair.

• From The Art of Seduction (2001)

  Cleopatra provided constant variety—tributes, mock battles, expedi- appearance. The eyes that tions, costumed orgies. Everything had a touch of drama and was accom- seduce have no meaning, plished with great energy. By the time your head lay on the pillow beside they end in the gaze, as the face with makeup her, your mind was spinning with images and dreams. And just when you ends in only pure thought you had this fluid, larger-than-life woman, she would turn distant appearance. . . . The scent or angry, making it clear that everything was on her terms. You never pos- of the panther is also a meaningless message— and sessed Cleopatra, you worshiped her. In this way a woman who had been behind the message the exiled and destined for an early death managed to turn it all around and panther is invisible, as is rule Egypt for close to twenty years. the woman beneath her makeup. The Sirens too From Cleopatra we learn that it is not beauty that makes a Siren but remained unseen. The rather a theatrical streak that allows a woman to embody a man's fantasies. enchantment lies in what A man grows bored with a woman, no matter how beautiful; he yearns for is hidden. different pleasures, and for adventure. All a woman needs to turn this —JEAN BAUDRILLARD, DE LA around is to create the illusion that she offers such variety and adventure. A SÉDUCTION man is easily deceived by appearances; he has a weakness for the visual. Create the physical presence of a Siren (heightened sexual allure mixed with a regal and theatrical manner) and he is trapped. He cannot grow bored with you yet he cannot discard you. Keep up the distractions, and We're dazzled by feminine adornment, by the surface, never let him see who you really are. He will follow you until he drowns. \ All gold and jewels: so little of what we observe \ Is the girl herself And The Sex Siren where (you may ask) amid such plenty \ Can our object of passion be found? Norma Jean Mortensen, the future Marilyn Monroe, spent part of her The eye's deceived \ By childhood in Los Angeles orphanages. Her days were filled with Love's smart camouflage. chores and no play. At school, she kept to herself, smiled rarely, and — O V I D , CURES FOR LOVE, TRANSLATED BY PETER GREEN dreamed a lot. One day when she was thirteen, as she was dressing for school, she noticed that the white blouse the orphanage provided for her was torn, so she had to borrow a sweater from a younger girl in the house. The sweater was several sizes too small. That day, suddenly, boys seemed to He was herding his cattle gather around her wherever she went (she was extremely well-developed on Mount Gargarus, the highest peak of Ida, when

• From The Art of Seduction (2001)

  Once your targets are drawn by the lure of the forbidden, dare them to match you in transgressive behavior. Any kind of challenge is seductive. Take it slowly heightening the challenge only after they show signs of yielding to you. Once they are under your spell, they may not even notice how far out on a limb you have taken them. The great eighteenth-century rake Duc de Richelieu had a prediliction for young girls and he would often heighten the seduction by enveloping them in transgressive behavior, to which the young are particularly susceptible. For instance, he would find a way into the young girl's house and lure her into her bed; the parents would be just down the hall, adding the proper spice. Sometimes he would act as if they were about to be discovered, the momentary fright sharpening the overall thrill. In all cases, he would try to turn the young girl against her parents, ridiculing their religious zeal or prudery or pious behavior. The duke's stategy was to attack the values that his targets held dearest—precisely the values that represent a limit. In a young person, family ties, religious ties, and the like are useful to the seducer; young people barely need a reason to rebel against them. The strategy, though, can be applied to a person of any age: for every deeply held value there is a shadow side, a doubt, a desire to explore what those values forbid. In Renaissance Italy, a prostitute would dress as a lady and go to church. Nothing was more exciting to a man than to exchange glances with a woman whom he knew to be a whore as he was surrounded by his wife, family, peers, and church officials. Every religion or value system creates a dark side, the shadow realm of everything it prohibits. Tease your targets, get them to flirt with whatever transgresses their family values, which are often emotional yet superficial, since they are imposed from the outside. One of the most seductive men of the twentieth century, Rudolph Valentino, was known as the Sex Menace. His appeal for women was twofold: he could be tender and attentive, but he also hinted of cruelty. At any moment he could become dangerously bold, perhaps even a little violent. The studios played up this double image as much as possible—when it was reported that he had been abusive to his wife, for example, they ex- Stir Up the Transgressive and Taboo • 357

• From Scandalous Liaisons (2007)

  He buried his face in her neck. “Say my name again.” “Sebastian . . . help me . . . I burn . . .” “Yes, love,” he encouraged, his fingers sliding faster. “Burn for me.” Her back arched, her eyes flew open, she hung on the edge . . . so close . . . so close . . . Olivia cursed him when his hand left her sex and moved to her knee. “Patience,” he murmured hoarsely. “I will take you there.” He pulled her legs to his waist, and the heavy heat of his erection prodded her dripping opening. His gaze locked with hers, his forehead beaded with sweat. He lowered his head and mumbled, “Sorry, my love,” just before he thrust hard and deep within her. Olivia bit back a cry, startled at the pain that obliterated her pleasure. She held still beneath him, tears filling her eyes and spilling over. Sebastian’s tongue lapped up the wetness with the long, slow drags of a cat, soothing her even as he pressed inexorably inside. “If I’d gone slowly,” he explained, “the pain would have been worse.” He cradled her head in his hands, his eyes soft and tender with regret. “There is some good to this discomfort you feel.” “What is it?” she gasped. She could see his concern, felt it in the reverence of his touch. “I am well and truly compromised. You shall have to marry me, or I will be ruined.” Unable to help it, Olivia laughed, even though it hurt. “Lucky for you, my lord, that we are already wed.” “Ah.” He withdrew and then slid forward again, frowning when she winced. “I am a lucky man. My reputation is saved.” The pain began to lessen even as he finally buried his cock to the hilt. His ragged groan made her shiver. Dropping his head to her breast, he suckled her. His big body strained and flexed as he started a rhythm and maintained it, pumping deep within her, his raven hair a curtain around them. His mouth was magic, his tongue swirling around the erect crest of her nipple. The steel of Sebastian’s cock began to burn, a wondrous sensation that intensified with the erotic sounds he made. “Spread your legs,” he begged, gasping with obvious pleasure when she opened, giving greater access to his thrusts. “Press your body against me. God, yes . . . Livia . . .” The fierce Captain Phoenix was clay in her hands. Olivia arched upward, feeling his skin cling to hers with his sweat. She gripped his contracting buttocks, amazed at their feel, hard as stone. He swirled his hips, grinding into the source of her pleasure, and tingles spread outward, flushing her skin. He pressed into her again, repeating the movement, drenching her body in sensation.

• From Scandalous Liaisons (2007)

  And this was the result, of course. Julienne would point out all the ways he’d handled the journey irresponsibly: He should have written to accept her invitation so she could expect him. He should never have waited so long to leave. He should have stopped at an inn when the weather took a turn for the worse. He should have commissioned a sturdier equipage, instead of one built to impress. And she would be correct on all counts, as usual. One of these days, he’d like to prove her wrong. He’d like to prove to them both that he was capable of managing his own affairs. That he was a man one could trust to lean upon. Hugh lifted his head and watched the two young men approach him, carrying blankets and flagons of spirits to warm his servants. They were strapping lads, as he’d requested, although one of them stuttered terribly and the other had a lazy eye. Regardless, they would serve his purpose, and they seemed eager enough. Not that he blamed them. If he were in their place, he’d wish for any fortuitous circumstance to leave this forgotten estate. The soft nicker of a horse behind him urged him to turn around. His gaze moved upward from the snow-covered ground, following the lines of a massive horse. His mouth fell open as he perused long, shapely legs encased in breeches, a slim torso framed by a spread cloak, stunning green eyes, and rich crimson hair. He gaped, at a loss for words, deciding he would’ve been better off avoiding the blasted tea, because it certainly couldn’t be a woman who sat astride the hulking beast. And wearing breeches no less! “My lord,” the fantastic vision murmured from her high perch. And it was a her. No man could bear that beautiful face or stunning, feminine bedroom voice. A voice that curled around him in the deepening dusk and heated his blood. He snapped his mouth shut. “You are . . . ?” he growled rudely. Hugh knew he was suffering from a deplorable lack of social grace, but truly, there were only so many bizarre things a person should be expected to tolerate in one day, and since this afternoon, he’d had more than his share. “Charlotte,” she replied as if that were explanation enough. “Right.” He frowned, his gaze narrowing as it raked her lithe form for the second time. Her manly attire delineated every soft curve of her legs. The cropped, form-fitting riding jacket, though somewhat out of date, showcased firm, high breasts and a trim waist. Impossibly he felt overheated again, although just moments before he’d been shivering. He studied her intently, noting her perfect posture and uplifted chin. “What are you attempting to do out here in this miserable weather?” “I’m here to assist you, my lord.”

• From Scandalous Liaisons (2007)

  “The men have begun the necessary repairs to your ship. It should be seaworthy again within a sennight, at which time we’ll head to the nearest port. I will leave my ship and travel with you to England. We shall arrive on British soil, seek out our parents, and unravel this debacle. Then we can obtain an annulment and part ways.” “Oh . . . I see.” Olivia looked out the window again. Sebastian sat tensely at her silence. “What if I don’t wish to have the marriage annulled?” she queried finally. His eyebrows shot up. “You wish to be married to a wanted criminal?” Her brief side-glance was intriguing and arousing, showing a surprising lack of fear. By all rights she should be terrified, yet she appeared completely at ease. She swirled the rest of the brandy in the snifter, watching the play of light with undue attention. “Lord Merrick is not a wanted man.” “Do you believe I am Merrick?” Olivia shrugged. “I’m reserving judgment at the moment.” He downed his brandy and then moved to the hammock that hung across the corner. Hopping in, Sebastian settled his hands behind his head. “You appear quite comfortable for a woman in the bedchamber of a pirate.” She blew a loose lock of hair off her face. When it fell right back into its previous annoying place, she reached up and freed the entire glorious mass. His body hardened instantly. Olivia Merrick was stunning, a siren. “I don’t appear to have much choice in the matter, and so far you have deported yourself much better than the men under your charge.” “I apologize for your mistreatment,” he said, watching her plait her waist-length hair. He’d never observed the act before and was startled to realize he enjoyed the intimacy of it. “It will never happen again.” Tossing the finished braid over her shoulder, Olivia downed the rest of her brandy in one gulp. Her eyes watered, and she waved at them with her hands. Sebastian couldn’t contain the obvious question. “Why would you wish to maintain the marriage?” A moment passed before she found her voice, and when she spoke, it was husky from the fiery abrasion of the potent liquor. The thrill elicited by the throaty sound made his cock strain against his breeches. He imagined for a moment that she was hoarse from passionate cries of his name, pleasured sounds he’d call forth with deep, drugging thrusts of his cock into her lush body. Sebastian knew already she’d be hot and wet. Olivia was a passionate woman in ordinary matters. In the bedroom, she would most likely burn a man alive.

• From Bright Lights, Big City (1984)

  Doubtless this should not make you think of panties , but it does. Lubriderm Lotion . You pick up a luffa and rub it against your cheek, then return it to the shelf. A pink disposable razor is cradled in the soap dish. You open the medicine cabinet over the sink: cosmetics, the usual assortment of noneuphoric home medicines. A tube of Gynol II Contraceptive Jelly. Odorless, Colorless, Flavorless . This is good news. On the top shelf there is a cache of prescription bottles. You remove one: “Megan Avery; Lithium Carbonate; four tablets daily.” The second bottle is tetracycline. So far as you know you are not suffering from bacterial infection. You replace it. You score on the third try: “Valium, as directed, for tension.” Tension you’ve got. You hold the bottle up to the light. Nearly full. After a brief struggle you master the childproof cap. You shake a blue tab onto your palm and swallow it. You consider. The last time you dropped a Valium you didn’t even feel it. You take another. Of course, the last time you took a V, you were wired on C. Anyway. You replace the bottle, take an L and flush. Megan is making noises with the dishes in the kitchen when you return. “Be right out,” she says. You sit on the couch and pour another glass from the bottle on the coffee table. A bouquet with a hint of migrant-worker sweat. “Just thought I’d get the dishes out of the way,” Megan says when she returns. “A good policy,” you say. “Want some more wine?” She shakes her head. “I’m not much of a drinker anymore.” “That’s a good policy, too.” You are feeling magnanimous. “Are you doing any writing,” Megan asks. You shrug your shoulders. “I’ve been working on some ideas.” “Do it,” Megan says. “I want to see you walk back into that place someday to pick up a check in Fiction. I want to see you walk past Clara’s office into the Department. I’ll have a bottle of champagne waiting.” You don’t know how Megan has come to believe in you, since you don’t even believe in yourself. But you’re grateful. You try to picture the scene of your triumphal return to the magazine, but instead you find yourself admiring Megan’s bare feet drawn up beside her thighs on the couch. “What will you do in the meantime? Any job prospects?” “I’ve got some leads,” you say. “I could put you in touch with a few people,” she says. “What you’ve got to do is make up a good résumé—wide enough for journalism and publishing. I know an editor at Harper & Row who’d be happy to talk to you.

• From Bright Lights, Big City (1984)

  How about some dinner?” You would rather fill in the gaps of the story, hear all the details, the shrieks and moans of Bellevue, but Megan is up and she is holding out her hand. In the kitchen she passes you a paring knife and three cloves of garlic which you are supposed to peel. The skin is hard to remove. She explains that it’s easier if you whack them a few times with the blunt edge of the knife. Then she notices the bandage. “What happened to your hand?” “Got caught in a door. No big deal.” Megan goes behind you to wash lettuce in the sink. When you step back to get a better angle on the cutting board your buttocks meet. She laughs. Megan moves around to the stove. She reaches up to an open shelf and pulls down a bottle. “Olive oil,” she says. She pours some in a saucepan and turns on the burner. You pour yourself another glass of wine. “Is the garlic ready,” Meg asks. You have succeeded in peeling two cloves. They look nude. “Not too efficient, are we?” Megan says. She relieves you of the knife and strips the third clove, then chops it all up. “Now we dump the garlic in the pan and let it fry. Meanwhile, I’ll chop the basil while you open the clams. You know how to operate a can opener?” You mostly stand and watch as Meg flashes around the kitchen. She moves you occasionally, whenever you’re in the way. You like the feel of her hands on your shoulders. “Tell me about Amanda,” Megan says over salad. You are sitting at the table in the dining alcove in candlelight. “I get the feeling that something bad happened.” “Amanda is a fictional character,” you say. “I made her up. I didn’t realize this until recently, when another woman, also named Amanda, shed me with a collect phone call from Paris. Do you mind if I open another bottle of wine?” You eventually give Megan the gist of it. She says that Amanda must be enormously confused. You will drink to that. “You’ve had a terrible time, haven’t you?” she says. You shrug. You are looking at her breasts, trying to determine whether or not she is wearing a bra. “I’ve been worried about you,” Megan says. You move from the table to the couch. Megan says that we all project our needs onto others, and that others aren’t always capable of fulfilling them. No bra, you decide. You excuse yourself to go to the bathroom. You switch on the light and close the door behind you. The bathroom has a cluttered, homey look. Dried flowers on the toilet tank, white sheepskin on the seat. You pull back the shower curtain. Inside the shower is a shelf loaded with bottles. Vitabath, Bath & Shower Gelée . You like the sound of that. Pantene Shampoo. Pantene Conditioner .

• From Scandalous Liaisons (2007)

  She crossed the short distance between them and dropped to her knees. Grasping his straining erection, she pulled it down to her mouth and sucked it inside, swirling her tongue around the plum-sized head. His hiss of pleasure followed by the convulsive grip of his fingers in her hair betrayed her power. A few quick thrusts of his hips, and his thighs were straining with the effort to remain standing. “Poor, sweet,” she murmured against the wet head of his cock. “Perhaps you should lie on the bed before you collapse.” Pulling her upright, Sebastian possessed her mouth, thrusting his tongue inside just as he had thrust his cock. His skilled hands caressed her curves with disarming familiarity. Within moments, she was clinging to his powerful body, gasping with pleasure. He ripped her gown open, sending scores of tiny cloth-covered buttons flying in every direction. Excitement coursed through her blood, even as her mind still waged its protest. “This changes nothing,” she repeated. “Remind yourself of that when I’m done,” he growled arrogantly, shoving her dress to the floor. He spun her around and tore at her tapes, quickly divesting her of her petticoats and corset without care for the costly garments. “Sebastian—” “Umm . . . say my name again, sweeting. I love the way you say it.” She melted. “Sebastian.” He pulled her chemise over her head and tossed it aside before lifting her and carrying her to the bed, his mouth pressed firmly against her forehead. “I’ve missed you terribly.” Olivia shook her head, her eyes burning with unshed tears. She tugged the ribbon from his queue, freeing his silky raven locks. “I should be stronger. I should resist you. You’ve hurt me terribly. Perhaps if I had a blade or a pistol—” “Neither one could keep me from you.” Then why had he left? More important, she needed to know why he’d returned. “I love you, Olivia.” Stiffening against him, she leaned back to search his face. Sebastian stared back with tender blue eyes, and Olivia bit back a sob. She’d longed for his love, and she longed to believe it was real. But she couldn’t trust him, and because of that lack, instead of joy, his words brought only pain. “Why do you look so shocked, sweet? Surely you must have suspected how I felt.” He laid her on the bed as if she were the most priceless of treasures. “You came back because you love me?” she queried bitterly. “Only a besotted fool would believe that.” “I didn’t come back because I love you.” She frowned, confused. “I left because I love you.”

• From Scandalous Liaisons (2007)

  Phoenix brought both hands between her legs—one spreading the sheltering lips while the other slipped the long, calloused finger back inside her. He began to pump in and out, his gaze arrested by the sight. Her hands gripped the rounded edges of the table, her lower lip caught in her teeth, as she struggled to remain silent. She wanted to cry out, to scream. It felt so wonderful she could hardly bear it. Tension built, coiling in her stomach and shooting outward in hot waves. She didn’t understand it, but her body knew, her hips lifting in counterpoint to his movements. She was so wet, so wild, for him, Olivia could hear the sucking sounds of her body as it tried to hold the plunging finger within her. And then there was more of him inside her—two fingers, drenched in her cream, thrusting in and out. She released her lip and cried out, her body shuddering. “Please . . .” she begged, but she didn’t know for what. “Feels good, doesn’t it?” he growled. “The feel of me inside you. You’d like my cock, wouldn’t you, sweet? Stretching you, filling the emptiness that my fingers cannot.” His intense blue eyes remained locked on the place where he claimed her, as he slowly slid down her body, his skilled fingers never ceasing their torment. He licked his lips, and his scandalous intent became apparent. “No,” she whispered in protest. “You will not deny me this,” he bit out. “A small taste of heaven before I return you.” Olivia knew propriety dictated she stop him, push him away, but she couldn’t, not when Phoenix looked at her the way he was doing now. She rose onto her elbows and watched his mouth descend, his tongue slipping like fire through the petals of her sex. She ground her hips restlessly into the table. It was horrible and wonderful and wicked. And she loved it, loved how he made her feel, loved to watch him so totally focused on her. His expert tongue lapped her aching sex in a way that soothed and excited at the same time. Olivia spread her legs wider, arching up into his mouth, feeling empty just as he said she would, despite his rapidly stroking fingers. With frightening understanding, he seemed to know exactly what she needed, his tongue held rigid as it flicked against the source of her torment, the source of her pleasure. Phoenix dropped to his knees, concentrating the full extent of his skill on pleasuring her mindless. Higher and higher he pressed her, making erotic sounds of enjoyment against her flesh, until she couldn’t bear it any longer. His fingers moved faster, his tongue lapped harder, his growls grew louder— Her orgasm made her scream, her entire body stretching taut across the table and shaking with sensation as she convulsed in ecstasy against his mouth.

• From Scandalous Liaisons (2007)

  He gripped the torn edges of her gown, and with a harsh, impatient tug, he ripped the garment and the chemise below it to the waist. His hands went immediately to her aching breasts, plucking the tips, twisting them, the way he must have sensed she desired. Her sex flooded with moisture. He was ravishing her, pillaging and plundering, and it was just what she wanted him to do, what she’d wanted him to do since he’d first come onto her ship. Olivia moaned into his mouth. “What are you doing to me?” “What are you doing to me?” he retorted harshly. “Only hours I’ve known you, and already you drive me to madness.” He nuzzled her throat, then blazed a burning trail of open mouthed kisses to her breasts. “I want to devour you, fill you with my cock, ruin you.” “Phoenix . . . ” She shied away from the tumultuous sensations that were entirely new to her, but she could not escape him. The pirate held her pinned, his hard body pressed between her spread legs. He sucked a straining nipple into his hungry mouth, the combined effect of his tongue strokes and the rhythmic pulling causing her to grip his hair convulsively. Unable to help herself, Olivia arched upward and rubbed herself against the straining length of his erection. Pleasure speared through her, hot and searing. Stunned, she sank back onto the table. “No,” he ordered around her breast. “Don’t stop . . .” He ground his cock into her, moving his attentions to her other breast, and Olivia moaned loudly, her body on fire. Phoenix pulled back far enough to push the volume of her skirts out of the way. His hand brushed the damp curls of her sex, and he stilled. His gaze moved to hers as he slid a long finger through the slickness of her desire and parted the soft folds. He circled and rubbed the tiny spot where she ached, causing her back to arch on a startled cry and moisture to flood his hand. Groaning, he eased inside her. She murmured a faint protest, but her hips lifted of their own accord, pushing into the wicked invasion. “You’re so hot, so tight.” His finger slid in to the base. With his free hand, he lifted her leg until her slippered foot rested on the surface of the table. Then he pushed her knee outward, completely opening her to his gaze. He stared at her sex and withdrew his finger. Olivia watched, fascinated, as he brought his hand to his mouth and sucked his finger inside. “Ummm,” he purred, the sound deeply sexual. He lifted and spread her other leg as he had the first. She flushed, knowing she looked wanton, her gown ruined, her breasts exposed and damp from his mouth, her sex open and glistening with her lust for him.

• From Scandalous Liaisons (2007)

  “With pleasure. Since you are so determined to have me.” His gaze softened. “Do not concern yourself with the fit,” he soothed. “I’ll make you wet and hungry for me, sweet. So dripping and ravenous that my cock will slide deep within you like a hot knife in butter, and you will melt just the same.” Dampness flooded her thighs. “Your voice is amazing,” she murmured. “My brain simply ceases to function when you speak.” “Olivia—” “Release your hair,” she interrupted. “I like it better loose.” Sebastian walked toward her, tugging out his queue as he came. Truly his hair was not nearly as long as hers, but it did reach the bottom of his shoulder blades, and when he walked the inky black silk flowed over his broad shoulders. He looked like a pagan god, tanned to the waist and built for pleasure. Her pleasure. “I am no marital prize,” he warned. “I am not any kind of prize.” “You are a treasure.” Olivia took a hesitant step toward him. “Just the way you are.” Sebastian held out his hand, and she flew to him, throwing herself into his warm embrace. She gripped the back of his neck and pulled his smiling lips down to hers. Warm and sweet, his voluptuary’s mouth brushed featherlight across hers. She tried to draw him closer to taste him more fully, but he easily held back, his strength so much greater than hers. “We have weeks to travel, love,” he reminded her gently. “All the time in the world to compromise me completely. No need to devour me whole.” Experiencing the novel sensation of feminine power over a stunning man, Olivia experimented with wielding it. “You are mine, my lord. I can do as I please with you.” Sebastian’s arms tightened around her, his breath hissing through his teeth as if she’d burned him. She cupped his cheek with her hand, studying him. “No one has ever claimed you before,” she murmured perceptively, wondering what had happened in his life to mold him into the man he was today—a wanted man. She should be terrified to link her fate with his, but all she felt was wonder. “I do so with pride.” Her husband rewarded her with a searing kiss, his hands cupping her buttocks and pressing her into his steely erection. He released her too quickly, circling her, making her ache simply from the heat of his gaze. And then he stilled behind her, silent, the rapid rush of their breathing the only sound in the room.

• From Scandalous Liaisons (2007)

  “That is how I feel, as if I must have my fill before it’s too late.” Hugh lifted her hair to his face and breathed deeply. “This is such a beautiful color. It’s the most glorious shade of red I’ve ever seen.” Charlotte attempted to roll over so she could savor him as he was savoring her, but he held her still with a firm grip. He slid her gown up slowly, using the soft material to caress her skin. She shivered as his hand dipped between her legs, tangling in the damp curls. “And this red—darker, more passionate. From the moment I saw you on that massive horse, I wanted to know what color the hair here would be.” His finger circled her engorged clit with a featherlight touch, while his other hand reached around and cupped her breast. “When you lie naked in the bed, your hair spilled across the pillows, your skin so pale, your nipples and lips so dark . . . I can hardly bear it.” He kissed the curve of her derriere. “But it is the things you say and the sound of your laughter that move me most.” She closed her eyes, awash in feeling and emotion. Charlotte looked at life pragmatically, and she felt no shame for her past. The need to survive had long ago overridden her pride. But in all of her experience, she’d never had a man take such time with her, stoking her arousal, making her liquid with desire, as Hugh had done from the very beginning. The sexual act shouldn’t feel this intimate, not when the situation was so temporary. But then he slipped a finger inside her, and she lost her trepidation. He entered a little more, and she tensed, sore from his earlier amorous attentions. Hugh hummed a coaxing sound, and then his mouth was there, his tongue moving in deep licks, just the way he kissed. He parted her with his fingers, his other hand kneading her breast, rolling her nipple. “Please,” she whispered, circling her hips into his thrusting tongue, wanting him . . . desperately. He straightened, and a moment later she felt the hard heat of him, pressing slowly into her, filling the empty ache she hadn’t known was there until he’d arrived. Patient and tender, he stroked her spine, soothing her, as his cock stretched swollen tissues unaccustomed to such constant use. “Yes . . .” she sighed, when his thighs touched hers, her body stretched to the limit to accommodate him. She arched her hips upward in silent invitation, and he slipped deeper inside with a soft curse. “This feeling,” he grunted, hunching over her and cupping her silk-covered breasts with his hands. “I cannot imagine ever having enough of this.” He slid out slowly and then pressed forward again, starting a leisurely rhythm and maintaining it, the steady in and out inundating her with pleasure. She whimpered and began to writhe, begging him to end her torment.

• From Story of the Eye (1928)

  I began to realize that she shared my anxiety at seeing her, and I felt even more anxious that day because I hoped she would be stark naked under the pinafore. She had black silk stockings on covering her knees, but I was unable to see as far up as the cunt (this name, which I always used with Simone, is, I think, by far the loveliest of the names for the vagina). It merely struck me that by slightly lifting the pinafore from behind, I might see her private parts unveiled. Now in the corner of a hallway there was a saucer of milk for the cat. “Milk is for the pussy, isn’t it?” said Simone. “Do you dare me to sit in the saucer?” “I dare you,” I answered, almost breathless. The day was extremely hot. Simone put the saucer on a small bench, planted herself before me, and, with her eyes fixed on me, she sat down without my being able to see her burning buttocks under the skirt, dipping into the cool milk. The blood shot to my head, and I stood before her awhile, immobile and trembling, as she eyed my stiff cock bulging in my trousers. Then I lay down at her feet without her stirring, and for the first time, I saw her “pink and dark” flesh cooling in the white milk. We remained motionless, both of us equally overwhelmed…. Suddenly, she got up, and I saw the milk dripping down her thighs to the stockings. She wiped herself evenly with a handkerchief as she stood over my head with one foot on the small bench, and I vigorously rubbed my cock through the trousers while writhing amorously on the floor. We reached orgasm at almost the same instant without even touching one another. But when her mother came home, I was sitting in a low armchair, and I took advantage of the moment when the girl tenderly snuggled in her mother’s arms: I lifted the back of her pinafore, unseen, and thrust my hand under her cunt between her two burning legs. I dashed home, eager to masturbate again. The next day there were such dark rings around my eyes that Simone, after peering at me for a while, buried her head in my shoulder and said earnestly: “I don’t want you to toss off any more without me.” Thus a love life started between the girl and myself, and it was so intimate and so intense that we could hardly let a week go by without meeting. And yet we virtually never talked about it. I realized that her feelings at seeing me were the same as mine at seeing her, but I found it difficult to have things out. I remember that one day, when we were in a car tooling along at top speed, we crashed into a cyclist, an apparently very young and very pretty girl. Her head was almost totally ripped off by the wheels.

• From Scandalous Liaisons (2007)

  She’d never seen a bare-chested man. Even on her father’s plantation, the workers were required to remain clothed, her doting father’s way of shielding her maidenly sensibilities. Despite this lack of knowledge, she was certain no other male could claim Phoenix’s magnificent form. Olivia snapped her mouth shut and waited until he was close enough so she could feel the heat radiating from his skin. It took everything she had to resist touching him, to resist burying her face in his chest and breathing him in. He smelled wonderful, a sun-warmed and salted male in his prime. His hands came toward her, his hot gaze dropping to the exposed curve of her breast. “Hell’s teeth!” he growled as the edge of his blade met his aroused cock. Incredulous, Phoenix looked down at her hand, then again at her face. He released a slow, wary breath. “I wouldn’t recommend castrating me, sweetheart. One of your duties, after all, is to bear my heirs.” She inhaled a shuddering breath. “I do not believe for even a moment, Captain, that you are Lord Merrick.” But the idea was not distasteful. Romantic notions and girlish fantasies— Phoenix met both of those and so much more. Her father would never have approved of this man, a pirate worlds apart from the carefully selected earl she’d been told to expect. The pirate would not be to any father’s taste, but he suited her secret desire perfectly. Phoenix’s brow arched in sardonic amusement. “But you cannot be certain. Have you ever met your husband?” Her hand shook nervously, and he winced. “Steady, love,” he cautioned. “You may one day desire the appendage you are so grievously threatening.” “The only appendage of that nature I’ll be desiring is my husband’s,” she retorted. She watched his grin come back in full force, revealing a dimple on the left side of his lush mouth. How could a pirate have a dimple? “I’m relieved to hear that.” His voice was deep and seductive, purring like a predatory cat. “I wouldn’t be agreeable to an adulterous wife.” “I am not your wife!” she snapped, flustered by his charm and her response to it. “If what you say is true, then you are indeed my countess. And despite—,” he shot a pointed glance at his blade, “—your charming introduction, you are not displeased with me as a spouse.” “How can you say that?” “I didn’t. Your nipples did. They are hard and aching for my touch, pressing so delightfully against the bodice of your gown.” With a horrified gasp, Olivia covered her breasts, and he easily plucked the wicked knife from her fingers. He handed her his shirt. “Here. Cover yourself until I can locate your trunks. I have no wish to display your bountiful charms to my men. We’ve been at sea for months, and their control is stretched.” He eyed her appraisingly for a long moment and then chuckled. “Bold as you please,” he murmured.

• From Scandalous Liaisons (2007)

  “Naughty Charlotte,” he murmured. He stroked her again with expert awareness. “We can stay here for hours.” Again he withdrew, again he thrust. “Or we can retire to my bed, and you can lay on your back. I could suck your nipples then, sweet. Lick them, bite them, while I fuck you. Wouldn’t you like that?” She ground her teeth together and shuddered all over as he pumped into her again. “Bastard.” “No, I’m quite legitimate. And wealthy. I could help you, sweet.” Out. In. “Why seek treasure when you have me?” His fingertips stroked the straining length of her spine. “I don’t have you.” He stilled his movements. “You could.” She lay prone upon the massive mahogany desk, spread and helpless, filled with Montrose’s wondrous cock, her heart racing so fast she could hear nothing over the rushing of blood in her ears. What was he saying? What was he offering? And why, when she’d given him what he desired without a fight? Hugh didn’t move, he simply waited, and she knew without him saying so that he wouldn’t continue until she replied one way or the other. She didn’t understand what he was offering, but whatever it was, she wanted it, she wanted him. Desperately. She’d spent her entire life caring for herself because there was no one else to do it. She found it difficult to trust others, and she was a pragmatist at heart who believed in keeping her emotions far removed from her sexual liaisons. And yet she found herself wanting to believe a silver-tongued rogue. Knowing she shouldn’t, Charlotte nodded her head. “Thank God,” he muttered, his mouth pressing feverish kisses against her skin, belying the control he’d exhibited only a moment ago. Hands on her hips, Hugh pinned her down. Releasing his desire, he began to fuck her with greedy abandon. Hard and deep, his driving rhythm unfaltering, he brought her to orgasm and then continued to take her, plunging through the grasping depths of her body. He came, she was certain of it. She heard his deep groan, felt his seed pulse and then spill out, but he didn’t cease, didn’t grow softer. He slid her knee forward, opening her further, so that nothing impeded his cock from her depths. His sac, tight and hard, slapped against her clit, making her beg. Hugh swore and cursed, and came again. Charlotte could only grasp the edge of the desk and allow the pleasure to take her, to fill her, to sweep away her reservations, until all she felt was Hugh La Coeur and a tentative dream that would never come to fruition. Chapter Four Hugh stared at the map and wished he’d paid more attention to the Earl of Merrick’s discussions of trade routes in the West Indies.

• From Scandalous Liaisons (2007)

  “Right.” He should argue further, and would, as soon as his brain was working again. At the moment it was completely occupied with the stunning redhead in breeches, leaving not one thought process free to refuse her. Charlotte was not young, nor was she old. Five and twenty would be his guess. She was a classic beauty, with skin as clear as the finest porcelain. Her mouth was wide—too wide, some would say—and her lips full and carnal in their plumpness. She had lovely clear green eyes, and they met his with an easy forthrightness he admired. “Who are you?” he asked. The infinitely kissable mouth curled in a smile, and his gut tightened. A few moments ago he would have been alarmed. Now he was merely resigned. Apparently, he was getting aroused by all of the female inhabitants of the area. “I thought we resolved that already,” she murmured, her throaty voice threatening to shove him over the precipice of aroused into thoroughly erected. “A servant?” “Hmm . . . More of a companion. I’ve been asked to accompany you.” “For what purpose?” he scoffed. “I must make haste if I’ve any hope of reaching the next posting inn.” “It’s already too late for that, my lord. You’ll have to remain here for tonight at least, perhaps even until the storm blows over, if it’s as wicked as the skies herald.” She chuckled, and his cock twitched. “Hell and damnation!” It had been years since he’d been troubled by an unwanted cockstand, yet this unusual female had him throbbing in his trousers with a simple bout of amusement. Her eyes widened at his curse. “My apologies,” he corrected quickly. “My manners seem to have flown.” Along with the common sense of every individual he’d had the misfortune of meeting today. “I cannot possibly remain here overnight.” “Why not?” “Why not?” he repeated. “That is what I inquired,” she said dryly. “Why can you not stay?” “There’s no room, for one,” he pointed out. “There’s plenty of room. The manse is quite vast.” He scowled. “How much of it is inhabitable?” Charlotte laughed. And Hugh was captivated. He decided in that moment he would have her, and suddenly the storm he had cursed mere moments before became a blessing. It would trap them together, giving him the opportunity to seduce her into his bed. His mood brightened. Unlike the rest of his life, he made no stumbles in the bedroom. “Oh, my lord. Don’t be fooled by the apparent neglect. There are several available rooms, all clean and ready for guests.” He arched a brow. “Truly.” She flicked the reins with casual ease, and the huge brute of an animal moved toward the lopsided gate. “We should make haste.” “What exactly can you offer in the way of assistance?” he asked, vaulting onto the driver’s seat of the cart, while the two young men jumped into the back.

• From Scandalous Liaisons (2007)

  She patted the bulging saddlebag he’d been too distracted to notice before. “I heard your footman has a broken arm. I can set it and tend to him, while you attend to your carriage.” Hugh nodded, resigned. It would save time, and if she couldn’t help John, at least she’d be pleasing to the eye in the meantime. Damned if the sight of her in those breeches didn’t make every thought leave a man’s head. He urged the horses forward, and she moved aside to allow him to lead. Charlotte’s hands were quite literally shaking on the reins. She’d never been studied in such a manner in her life, in a way that made her skin hot and her palms itch. She was no ingenue—her attractiveness had been the backbone of her existence for many years. But it had been a novel experience to be raked by Montrose’s warm brown eyes. She felt looked at, truly seen, for the first time in years. At first glance he appeared nonchalant, but she wasn’t fooled. He’d perused her in detail, and liked what he saw. It had been thrilling. Arousing. And she wanted the handsome earl, who was an obvious libertine, to strip her with his eyes again. Charlotte had hoped he would be fine of face, but the reality was far more devastating than she had imagined. He exhibited none of the signs of ennui and dissolution common to men with a marked predilection to excess. Montrose was, in fact, youthful and quite fit. More than fit. Vigorous, actually, and virile. Potently virile. His mode of dress was understated, almost reserved, which suited him because his physical beauty alone was attractive enough. Any further adornment would simply be too much. There were varying forms of male arrogance: the arrogance of wealth and privilege, the arrogance of intelligence, and the arrogance of attractiveness. The Earl of Montrose bore all of those traits, and a little bit more. The intensity of his stare, the way his hands had tightened the harnesses, the leisurely, seductive grace with which he moved—it all betrayed him. A man that comfortable in his own skin would know all about sexual pleasure and wouldn’t doubt his ability to bestow it. He was a man who fucked often and well. A man few women could resist. Charlotte watched him closely as they left the grounds and moved onto the snow-covered lane, noting the easy expertise with which he held the ribbons. She was a woman who appreciated men who had a way with horses, because she liked them so well herself. Quite frankly, she respected men who took the time to become experts in the things that interested them. And Montrose was just such a man.

• From Scandalous Liaisons (2007)

  There was no more gentleness after that; Lucien simply wasn’t capable of it. As he pounded into her, pinning her hips when she struggled beneath him, Julienne realized why he’d taken such care to arouse her. He’d known, as only an expert lover could, that he would not be able to coddle her through this. He needed her too desperately, had reined in his appetites for too long. Moaning, sobbing, she could only follow his lead, holding still for his pleasure as he stroked his cock deeply within her, almost animalistic in his frenzy. And it felt so good, she thought she would die of it. “You’re mine,” Lucien growled, and he gloried in the knowledge. From the moment he’d first seen her, he’d wanted her just like this. Beneath him, filled with him, completely his in every way. He plunged into her, gritting his teeth at the overwhelming pleasure of it. She was so hot, so tight, writhing beneath him, mewling, and sobbing his name in a way that made it impossible to slow down or show her a moment’s consideration. But she wasn’t frightened or timid. Not his sweet Julienne. Her hips met him thrust for thrust, her cream so plentiful his cock was bathed in it, scalded by it. “That’s it,” he encouraged, in a voice he barely recognized as his own. He thrust faster, harder, until he was pistoning into her, shoving her up the bed. And then she tensed, her back bowing beneath him, her cunt gripping him so tightly it slowed his fevered pace. Her eyes flew open and locked with his. “I love you!” she gasped, and then she came, her orgasm milking his cock, luring his seed, until he spilled into her, flooding her, branding her in a way far more primitive than the ring she wore. He threw back his head and growled her name, certain he had never felt such joy in his life. When he could move again, Lucien rolled, taking his wife with him, draping her limp, sated form over his body. His hands stroked her back, stilling her trembling. He murmured his love, his longing, told her all the things he’d never thought he’d have the opportunity to say. How he loved the smell of her hair and the beauty of her smiles. How he’d dreamed of her and wanted her with a soul-deep desire. How he’d give her the world, because she gave up the one she knew to be with him . . . “Darling?” Her voice was a breathless whisper that made his cock swell, the sound of a woman well-pleasured. Lucien smiled at her endearment, pure contentment pumping through his veins. Had he almost given this up? He thought of the infernal list of marriage prospects and acknowledged what a fool he was. Thank God, Julienne had never given up on him. “Yes, my love?”

• From Scandalous Liaisons (2007)

  Olivia gasped as he filled her completely, infusing her with drugging pleasure. “The rug . . .” “We’ll buy another.” He withdrew and then thrust again. Hard. She writhed beneath him. “The servants . . .” “They’ll wait.” Pulling her legs around his waist, he settled into a fierce, almost brutal rhythm. “God . . . Olivia . . . I love you . . .” “Sebastian, you—” “Hang it, woman! Cease talking.” He took her mouth with desperate kisses, his hard body straining over and inside of her. Her hands cupped his flexing buttocks, and she moaned, relishing the feel of his body working its way into hers. Deep inside, she could feel him, stretching, prodding, stroking her deeply with unfailing skill. Tucking his arms under her knees, he held her wide as he pumped inside her, driving her quickly to the edge and then shoving her over. She was crying out her pleasure when the knock came to the door. Olivia shoved at his sweat-slick shoulders, mortified. “Wait!” he growled, his pace quickening until he was pistoning into her without mercy. “Sebastian!” she choked out. “They’ll hear us!” “Yes,” he gasped. “Come for me again, and let the whole house hear you.” She moaned, arching beneath him, dissolving in voluptuous bliss. When the orgasm swept over her, she cried out again, unable to contain it. Sebastian cursed when he came, his entire body stiffening before melting into powerful shudders. Sated, he pressed kisses against her throat. “I love you,” he whispered. And though her lips said nothing, her heart replied in kind. Sebastian watched his wife over his newspaper at the breakfast table and made a concerted effort not to smile. Olivia refused to look any of the servants in the eye, blushing to the tips of her ears when any of them spoke to her. He found it fascinating. After all, the woman had nearly unmanned him with his own blade and threatened seasoned pirates with a pistol. But apparently those were deeds she was comfortable with. Having two footmen and a slip-of-a-girl chambermaid hear their abandoned fucking was more than she could bear with dignity. He licked a dab of honey from his lip and felt contented. No woman could respond to a man the way Olivia had and remain unaffected. Not that he discounted her fury. He deserved it, after all. And he would pay whatever penance was required. She was his better half, adept at all of the things he tripped over, and yet a match for the untamed and uncivilized man within him. She was his counterpart, his soul mate, and he’d hurt her terribly, an offense he considered unforgivable. But he would correct his mistake. He had to. “What are our plans for the day, love?” She glanced up sharply. “I . . . I have a meeting this afternoon. And then a fitting at the dressmaker’s.” “Excellent. I have an appointment as well. What time is your fitting? I’ll escort you.”