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 Saint Thomas Aquinas Collection (22 Books) (2016)

  CHRYSOSTOM. By what He had said, He brought His disciples to have a desire towards Him, shewing them His unspeakable excellence; and now He invites them to Him, saying, Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden. AUGUSTINE. (Serm. 69. 1.) Whence do we all thus labour, but that we are mortal men, bearing vessels of clay which cause us much difficulty. But if the vessels of flesh are straitened, the regions of love will be enlarged. To what end then does He say, Come unto me, all ye that labour, but that ye should not labour? HILARY. He calls to Him those that were labouring under the hardships of the Law, and those who are burdened with the sins of this world. JEROME. That the burden of sin is heavy the Prophet Zachariah bears witness, saying, that wickedness sitteth upon a talent of lead. (Zech. 5:7.) And the Psalmist fills it up, Thy iniquities are grown heavy upon me. (Ps. 38:4) GREGORY. (Mor. xxx. 15.) For a cruel yoke and hard weight of servitude it is to be subject to the things of time, to be ambitious of the things of earth, to cling to falling things, to seek to stand in things that stand not, to desire things that pass away, but to be unwilling to pass away with them. For while all things fly away against our wish, those things which had first harassed the mind in desire of gaining them, now oppress it with fear of losing them. CHRYSOSTOM. He said not, Come ye, this man and that man, but All whosoever are in trouble, in sorrow, or in sin, not that I may exact punishment of you, but that I may remit your sins. Come ye, not that I have need of your glory, but that I seek your salvation. And I will refresh you; not, I will save you, only; but that is much greater, I will refresh you, that is, I will set you in all quietness. RABANUS. (non occ.) I will not only take from you your burden, but will satisfy you with inward refreshment. REMIGIUS. Come, He says, not with the feet, but with the life, not in the body, but in faith. For that is a spiritual approach by which any man approaches God; and therefore it follows, Take my yoke upon you. RABANUS. The yoke of Christ is Christ’s Gospel, which joins and yokes together Jews and Gentiles in the unity of the faith. This we are commanded to take upon us, that is, to have in honour; lest perchance setting it beneath us, that is wrongly despising it, we should trample upon it with the miry feet of unholiness; wherefore He adds, Learn of me.

• From Comrade Loves of the Samurai (1972)

  A young man Stood watching these two graceful silhouettes. He could not see their faces, and was curious to know what beautiful boys they might be. He had great longing to see their delightful faces. Then an old servant woman came out of the tent, and called to them: 'Dear maidens, dear Ofuji and Oyoshi.'The young man was disappointed to find that the two graceful persons were women and not young men. He went swiftly to the town of Sendai, the capital of that Province. At the end of one of the Streets of this town, called Bashyoja Fsuojji, there was a druggist's shop, the owner of which was a certain Hiusuke Ronishi. As our young man passed the shop, a delicious scent of incense escaped from the black curtains at the back of it, separating the commercial part from the living-rooms. The perfume was sweeter than that famous White Chrysanthemum incense which only the Lord of the Province possessed. The young man had a keen taste in incense, and was attracted by the perfume. So he entered the shop and, after buying some common perfumes, said to the proprietor: 'I should like to buy that incense which you are now burning behind the shop. Its perfume is exquisite. Will you give me a little? 'But the proprietor answered: 'That incense is my son's favourite, and we cannot sell it.' The young man was cast down, and lingered for a moment in the shop; for he could not tear himself from the delicious odour; and it was with regret that he withdrew. His name was Itjikuro Ban, and he was a Guard of the Province of Tsugaru, and immensely rich. He was passionately addicted to pederasty and did not waste a thought on women. He was at that particular time going to Yedo to see a celebrated young actor named Dekijima, whose beauty was attracting many men's admiration. His servant had received a letter from a friend at Yedo, praising Dekijima's beauty, and Itjikuro had at once set out to see him. He was a person of great refinement and dignity, of a rank which is seldom met with in so distant a country.

• From What Do Women Want?: Adventures in the Science of Female Desire (2013)

  At last, with Deidrah tapping her crazed Morse code on the dirt, Oppenheimer reached out. Standing behind her, he set his hands on her hips. And suddenly she had what she sought, his swift thrusts. He pumped back and forth in a flurry. Then he paused, pulled out briefly, touched her flanks, and slid inside her again for another bout of thrusting. He humped and pulled out repeatedly. When he came, thighs quivering and eyes going fuzzy, she twisted, turned her face to his, smacked her lips at high speed, reached back to seize him, and yanked him violently forward. Her fulfillment was short-lived. Within minutes, she was hounding him again. At other moments, she might have moved on to the other male. “She has sex,” Wallen said, about rhesus females on the whole, “and when he goes into his post-ejaculatory snooze, what does she do? She immediately gets up and goes off and finds another.” Tracking the action of the compound, he asked himself, as he had so many times, whether the libido in women has similar drive, and whether “because of social conventions and imperatives, women frequently don’t act on or even recognize the intensity of motivation that monkeys obey.” He answered, “I feel confident that this is true.” Wallen didn’t mean to imply perfect correspondence between Deidrah and the average human female. The distinctions included the impact of ovulation, so much more subtle in women. He and his former doctoral student Heather Rupp had been trying to grasp the ways that women’s monthly hormones spur the neurotransmitters of desire. In one study, they had taken three groups of straight females and showed them hundreds of similar pornographic pictures—all featuring women with men—in three rounds, at different points in the women’s cycles. Again, Wallen and Rupp used viewing time as a measure of the subjects’ interest in the porn. One result was predictable: in the first round, the women who were near ovulation stared longer than the other subjects. But something else caught them by surprise. These same women, whose first round of porn came at mid-cycle, when testosterone and estrogen peaked, stayed riveted when they returned to the lab for their second and third rounds, as the month wore on and these hormones faded. The women whose initial viewing came during lower hormonal stretches didn’t become transfixed when they ovulated. They continued to be less moved. Maybe, Wallen thought, some kind of conditioned arousal or indifference took hold. In later rounds, he guessed, the subjects still unconsciously linked the surroundings of the lab, the equipment, the porn to their reaction to their first viewing. “One lesson,” he said, “is that you don’t want a woman to form her first impression of you when she’s in the wrong menstrual phase. You’ll never recover.” He laughed.

• From The City of God

  What angels, then, are we to believe in this matter of blessed and eternal life?--those who wish to be worshipped with religious rites and observances, and require that men sacrifice to them; or those who say that all this worship is due to one God, the Creator, and teach us to render it with true piety to Him, by the vision of whom they are themselves already blessed, and in whom they promise that we shall be so? For that vision of God is the beauty of a vision so great, and is so infinitely desirable, that Plotinus does not hesitate to say that he who enjoys all other blessings in abundance, and has not this, is supremely miserable.[405] Since, therefore, miracles are wrought by some angels to induce us to worship this God, by others, to induce us to worship themselves; and since the former forbid us to worship these, while the latter dare not forbid us to worship God, which are we to listen to? Let the Platonists reply, or any philosophers, or the theurgists, or rather, _periurgists_,[406]--for this name is good enough for those who practise such arts. In short, let all men answer,--if, at least, there survives in them any spark of that natural perception which, as rational beings, they possess when created,--let them, I say, tell us whether we should sacrifice to the gods or angels who order us to sacrifice to them, or to that One to whom we are ordered to sacrifice by those who forbid us to worship either themselves or these others. If neither the one party nor the other had wrought miracles, but had merely uttered commands, the one to sacrifice to themselves, the other forbidding that, and ordering us to sacrifice to God, a godly mind would have been at no loss to discern which command proceeded from proud arrogance, and which from true religion. I will say more. If miracles had been wrought only by those who demand sacrifice for themselves, while those who forbade this, and enjoined sacrificing to the one God only, thought fit entirely to forego the use of visible miracles, the authority of the latter was to be preferred by all who would use, not their eyes only, but their reason. But since God, for the sake of commending to us the oracles of His truth, has, by means of these immortal messengers, who proclaim His majesty and not their own pride, wrought miracles of surpassing grandeur, certainty, and distinctness, in order that the weak among the godly might not be drawn away to false religion by those who require us to sacrifice to them and endeavour to convince us by stupendous appeals to our senses, who is so utterly unreasonable as not to choose and follow the truth, when he finds that it is heralded by even more striking evidences than falsehood?

• From The City of God

  It is the decided opinion of all who use their brains, that all men desire to be happy. But who are happy, or how they become so, these are questions about which the weakness of human understanding stirs endless and angry controversies, in which philosophers have wasted their strength and expended their leisure. To adduce and discuss their various opinions would be tedious, and is unnecessary. The reader may remember what we said in the eighth book, while making a selection of the philosophers with whom we might discuss the question regarding the future life of happiness, whether we can reach it by paying divine honours to the one true God, the Creator of all gods, or by worshipping many gods, and he will not expect us to repeat here the same argument, especially as, even if he has forgotten it, he may refresh his memory by reperusal. For we made selection of the Platonists, justly esteemed the noblest of the philosophers, because they had the wit to perceive that the human soul, immortal and rational, or intellectual, as it is, cannot be happy except by partaking of the light of that God by whom both itself and the world were made; and also that the happy life which all men desire cannot be reached by any who does not cleave with a pure and holy love to that one supreme good, the unchangeable God. But as even these philosophers, whether accommodating to the folly and ignorance of the people, or, as the apostle says, "becoming vain in their imaginations,"[364] supposed or allowed others to suppose that many gods should be worshipped, so that some of them considered that divine honour by worship and sacrifice should be rendered even to the demons (an error I have already exploded), we must now, by God's help, ascertain what is thought about our religious worship and piety by those immortal and blessed spirits, who dwell in the heavenly places among dominations, principalities, powers, whom the Platonists call gods, and some either good demons, or, like us, angels,--that is to say, to put it more plainly, whether the angels desire us to offer sacrifice and worship, and to consecrate our possessions and ourselves, to them, or only to God, theirs and ours.

• From Introduction to the Hebrew Bible and Deutero-Canonical Books (2018)

  24:19-22.) When she comes to the field of Boaz, he notices her and protects her because of her fidelity to her mother-in-law. He allows her to eat at his table and instructs the reapers to let her glean even among the standing sheaves. Only at the end of the day does Naomi tell Ruth of her relationship to Boaz and suggest that her meeting Boaz is a sign of the Lord’s providential care. Ruth and Naomi are now secure until the end of the barley and wheat harvests, but their long-term future is still precarious. Chapter 3 brings the drama of the story to a climax. Naomi realizes that the best hope for long-term security is to have Boaz marry Ruth. Her plan for bringing this about, however, is remarkable. She does not instruct Ruth to ask Boaz to marry her, but rather to seduce him. The scene is the threshing floor, where Boaz is winnowing barley. The threshing floor was not only a workplace but also a place of celebration, where men relaxed at the end of the work of harvest. The prophet Hosea accuses Israel of acting like a prostitute on all the threshing floors (Hos 9:1). These were apparently places where prostitutes might expect to find customers. Ruth is told to wash and anoint herself and to put on her best clothes. We may compare the more elaborate preparations of the girls from the king’s harem in Esth 2:12, or Judith’s preparation for seducing Holofernes in Jdt 10:3. Already in Mesopotamian mythology, the goddess Inanna washes and perfumes herself before she meets Dumuzi ( ANET, 639). Ruth waits until Boaz has eaten and drunk and lies down in contentment. There is perhaps an implication that he is slightly drunk. In Gen 19:30-38 the daughters of Lot get their father drunk and then sleep with him. The eldest becomes the mother of Moab. Holofernes becomes drunk in his attempt to seduce Judith. Unlike these figures, however, Boaz is not drunk to the point of unconsciousness. He is merely in a receptive mood. When the time was right, Ruth “came stealthily and uncovered his feet and lay down” (Ruth 3:7). The reference to feet is a euphemism. Ruth initiates a sexual encounter. It has been objected that nowhere else in the Hebrew Bible does a woman uncover a man, but herein lies precisely the boldness of Ruth’s action. Boaz, naturally, is somewhat startled to find a woman at his “feet,” but he is pleased to discover her identity. It is not clear, however, whether the sexual

• From What Do Women Want?: Adventures in the Science of Female Desire (2013)

  Bulky and torpid, Oppenheimer and the habitat’s other adult male didn’t fully take part in the life of the compound. They didn’t belong to any particular family. They were merely breeders—and their peripheral status mimicked the male role in the wild. There, in Asian mountains or lowland forests, adult males lurked at the edges of female-run domains. The females invited them in to serve sexually. The males remained—desirable, dispensable—until the females lost interest in them. Then they were dismissed, replaced. In his compounds, Wallen removed the breeders and introduced new males about every three years, the time it took for them to become irrelevant, for their charms to wane, for the frequency of their copulations—almost always female-initiated—to fade. In the wild they seemed to stay attractive only slightly longer. “Rhesus females are very xenophobic when it comes to other females,” Wallen said. “Introduce a new female into the compound and she’ll be hounded until she dies. But when it comes to males, females have a bias toward novelty.” With his pale muzzle and russet back, Oppenheimer loped off once more and Deidrah trailed him. A child of hers, less than a year old, hurried behind her. Wallen’s assistants adored Deidrah. They loved her sprigs of out-of-control hair; they loved her personality, the quiet dignity she emanated most of the time, if not at the moment; and they loved the devotion of her mothering. Last year, upheaval in the compound had left her and her children vulnerable. Horribly frightened, they latched on to her and wouldn’t let go. “Literally, she could barely get up and walk without being dragged down by her kids,” Amy Henry, an assistant, said. “One held on to her tail. They wouldn’t let her go. She accepted it all with grace. She knew it was her responsibility to reassure them that it was okay. She’s always been a low-key monkey. But she gets very excited when she gives birth. And she gets very attached. I watched her carry her daughter on her back for a long time, right up to when she had a new baby. Not all moms will do that.” With hustling after Oppenheimer on her mind, though, maternal instinct was gone. She didn’t seem to see let alone know her baby; she kept leaving it alone, and it kept having to scoot after her. She positioned herself in front of Oppenheimer, crouched, and tapped a hand on the ground in a staccato rhythm. She tapped like this persistently, the rhesus equivalent of unbuckling a man’s belt. Yet her gesture contained a touch of hesitance. “She’s being careful, because all the females around her are higher ranked,” Wallen said. If they decided, for any reason, that they didn’t want her having sex with him, they and their families might tear and bite her to death.

• From Scandalous Liaisons (2007)

  “You are a pirate,” she murmured. “Yes.” “You have taken my father’s ship and all of its cargo.” “I have.” Her head tilted backward on the slender neck, and she gazed up at him with melting chocolate eyes. “Why, then, are you being so kind to me, if you intend to rape me?” He caught her fingers and placed them on his signet ring. “Most would say a man cannot rape his own wife.” She glanced down and gasped at the heavy crest that mirrored the one on her own band. Her eyes flew up to his. “Where did you get this? You can’t possibly . . .” He smiled. “According to you, I am.” Olivia stared up into intense blue eyes and felt certain her heart would burst from her chest. Her mind faltered, stumbling over the shocking revelation that the notorious Captain Phoenix was claiming to be her husband. She backed away from him in a rush, and he reached to steady her when she started to fall. A whimper escaped as his touch burned her skin. The day’s events had shaken her, but it was the gorgeous face of the infamous pirate that made her legs feel weak. He was tall and broad-shouldered, and his presence sucked all of the air from the tight confines of the cabin. His black hair was unfashionably long, and the darkness of his skin betrayed how much time he spent outdoors. He was wild, untamed—a man of the elements. She’d watched, fascinated, as he’d swept onto her ship and took command of it within moments. Phoenix had executed the attack with brilliant precision—not one man was seriously injured, and no one had been killed. Having spent most of her childhood on her father’s ships, Olivia recognized skill when she saw it. The way he’d used his sword and barked commands, the way loose tendrils of his hair had blown across his face, the way his breeches had delineated every stretch of his muscular thighs—she’d never experienced anything so thrilling. So exciting. Until he’d touched her. Then she’d discovered what excitement truly was. Now she watched, mouth agape, as his long, elegant fingers went to the open collar of his shirt and plucked at the laces. Phoenix tugged the billowing linen from his breeches and drew it over his head. “Good grief,” she gasped, startled by the heat that tore through her veins and flushed her skin as his chest was revealed to her. Her breasts grew heavy, the tips aching. Phoenix smiled, well aware of the effect he was having on her. His body moved with arrogant grace, powerful muscles rippling beneath tautly stretched skin. Dark hair spread lightly over his chest, tapering to a fine line that traveled down his stomach to disappear beneath his waistband. His arms bulged as he shook out his shirt and stepped closer.

• From Scandalous Liaisons (2007)

  She stiffened, wondering if Phoenix found her deportment unappealing, and was disturbed to realize that she cared if he did. All of her life, she had accompanied her father on his frequent trips to London. With a child’s awareness, she’d quickly discerned that Polite Society disparaged them because of their common background and her father’s work in trade. To protect her feelings, Olivia had learned to disregard the opinions of others. But the pirate’s opinion mattered. More than it should. “I’ve learned to care for myself,” she said defensively. His dimple flashed again, momentarily stunning her wits. “I’m not complaining,” he assured her. “Your father is well-known to me, sweet. I am aware that he is a busy man. I’m pleased you acquired some independent thought and intrepid-ness.” He moved toward the door, apparently unaffected by the attraction that seared her senses. “Wait!” she cried. Unreasonably, she didn’t want to be left alone. His crew was a coarse lot. They’d pinched and groped her, tugged at her hair, and ruined her gown. Intrepid she might be, but a glutton for punishment she was not. “You cannot leave me here alone!” Phoenix paused on the threshold, his features softening. “No one will come into this cabin without my permission. You’ll be safe here.” She shook her head in denial. Her hands began to shake as they clutched his shirt against her chest, the garment still warm from his body and scented of his skin. “Don’t leave me.” “I must go,” he replied gently. “I have to give orders to my crew, secure your ship, and locate your belongings.” He frowned. “Where is the proxy?” “It was returned to England with the solicitor immediately after the signing.” “Who signed for me?” Olivia started at his angry tone, and the first seeds of doubt entered her mind. “Lord Dunsmore,” she answered softly. His eyes narrowed. “And you didn’t find it odd that your husband didn’t come for you himself? You never wondered why he was unable, or unwilling, to at least sign the proxy even if he couldn’t be bothered to marry you properly?” Her bottom lip quivered at his sudden vehemence, and she bit it to hide the betraying movement. But Phoenix was too perceptive. With a muttered oath, he came back to her. His thumb brushed across her mouth, freeing her lip from her teeth. His gaze remained anchored to the spot where he had touched her. Olivia couldn’t breathe. Her lip burned. “You are a beautiful and desirable woman,” he murmured. “Why settle for marriage with a man sight unseen?” “I’d hardly call marrying a marquess ‘settling,’ ” she whispered against his thumb. He stiffened, and dropped his hand from her. “For the title, then.” Olivia shook her head. The title was important to her father. All she’d ever wanted in a marriage was passion, like her parents were reputed to have had. “It was my father’s wish that I marry Lord Merrick. I could not defy him.”

• 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 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)

  She threw open the door and rushed to the smallest of her trunks, all the while agonizingly aware of his presence behind her. Delving around, Olivia found the small jar of medicinal salve and straightened, turning to face her pirate captor. He stood just inside the closed doorway, watching her intently, his hands fisted at his sides. The room drew in, shrinking, until there was nothing but Phoenix and her and the powerful attraction between them. “Come closer,” she urged. His brows drew together as his gaze dropped. Olivia followed it, catching sight of her gaping bodice offering him an unhindered view of her breasts. She hastily covered herself, embarrassment heating her cheeks. His face was hard, his body as still as stone, a statue of a god rendered in flesh and bone. Turning her back to him, she set the salve jar atop her trunk and retrieved the shirt he had given her earlier. “If you rub that into your—” She stumbled into silence when he appeared at her side. How a man as large as Phoenix could move with such stealth she couldn’t fathom. He stood behind her, so close she could feel the heat of his skin and the warmth of his breath as it gusted across her shoulder in unsteady measure. He tugged the shirt from her hands and tossed it away. Wordlessly, he reached for the jar and opened it, scooping up a small amount of the salve. Olivia watched unmoving, arrested by his proximity, as he set the jar aside and picked up her hands. He began to rub the salve into her chafed wrists, his touch strong yet gentle and soothing. The moan that rose in her throat escaped without thought. “You like my touch,” he whispered hoarsely, “don’t you?” Helplessly, she lifted her face and stared into his eyes. She swallowed hard. “It burns.” Phoenix nodded, his gaze knowing. “Offer me your mouth.” Although his voice was soft, there was no mistaking the command. Caught in his spell, Olivia’s lips parted as his head dropped to hers. At the first contact, her knees went weak. She would have fallen if he hadn’t drawn her close. Her senses flooded with his taste, her body softening instinctively for his. His head slanted, finding the perfect fit, and his tortured groan made her dizzy. Arms around her waist, Phoenix lifted her feet from the floor and carried her to the small corner table. He kicked the chair aside and laid her on the polished surface. Following her down, his mouth never left hers, his tongue sweeping inside with caressing licks.

• 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)

  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)

  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)

  She whimpered suddenly, and the sound galvanized him into action. Hugh closed the space between them, plucked the service from her hands, and set it down. Turning to face the maid, he saw that her entire body shook as if she stood in the back of a cart traveling a very bumpy lane. Pretty, in a plain sort of way, with flyaway brown hair and pale blue eyes, she offered a smile as shaky as the rest of her. Hiding his reaction with practiced ease, Hugh realized the young woman suffered from a pitiable nervous affliction of some sort, not surprising considering the residence in which she lived and made her livelihood. She stammered something unintelligible, dipped an odd, crooked curtsy, and fled the room, as if he posed some grave threat to her person. Hugh shook his head in wonder. Were all the servants plagued with some ailment or another? Glancing at the service, he was relieved to see the tea had already been prepared. He poured and drank, appreciating the warmth, which chased away his chill. So much time passed while he waited, he nearly finished the pot before the door creaked open again. Hugh turned to face the newest arrival. He was so amazed at the graceful glide with which the figure entered, he forgot to set his cup and saucer down and merely stared. Black-clad from head to toe, her face veiled with lace, the duchess swept in with haste and halted just as quickly. She stood a few feet away, her figure short and petite. Because the darkness of her gown blended with the shadows, he could see very little of her, but something about her gave him pause. His body tensed, turning hard all over, and his fingers held the delicate china saucer far too tightly. Sweat misted his brow despite the cold. It wasn’t nerves or apprehension that held his attention so completely. No, it was far worse than that . . . Good God, he was becoming aroused! Shooting a horrified glance at the tea in his hand, he quickly deduced that the infamous madness must spread through the water. Hugh dropped the cup and saucer on the table with such haste, the remaining liquid splashed over the rim and stained the dusty cloth below. “Is there something wrong with the tea?” the duchess queried, her voice muffled by the thick veil. He shook his head. “No. I apologize for the—” “What do you want?” she snapped suddenly. “Beg your pardon?” He, of the dry wit and ready retort, could think of nothing more clever to say, his brain feverishly trying to comprehend why his body was ready to mate with an elderly duchess suffering a mental malady. “Why are you here?” she repeated slowly as if it were he that suffered the brain affliction. “What have you come for?” Hugh gathered his wits. “My carriage wheel was damaged in a rut. I require the use of—”

• 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)

  “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)

  Glancing up, she noted the rapidly darkening sky. Yes, he would definitely be spending the evening with them, and if the turbulent wind was any indication, he might be staying much longer than that. Blizzards could sometimes last for days, with the roads being impassable for weeks after they passed. She would have to be careful or he could learn more about them than she wanted him to. She would have to keep him occupied so he wouldn’t sneak around in his boredom. And she liked that idea far more than she should. Chapter Two “Will he recover?” Hugh glanced over his shoulder and found the lovely Charlotte lounging against the stall door. “I expect so. A minor sprain, I think.” Returning his attention to the task at hand, he continued to apply salve to the scraped and swollen front legs of one of his carriage bays. Unlike the main house, the stable was warm, well tended, and in excellent shape, a fact that didn’t surprise him at all. “Allow me to have a look,” she murmured, coming toward him. In the tight confines of the stable stall, there was no room to avoid her. She squeezed in between where he knelt and the front of his horse, her breeches stretching deliciously over a lush derriere. Hugh’s mouth dried at the sight, his entire body hardening as her scent, a soft mix of flowers, enveloped his senses. “I agree.” Her tiny hands soothed over the raw scrapes, and the animal breathed a soft whinny. Watching the caressing strokes of Charlotte’s hands, Hugh swallowed hard. It was a common enough task she was performing, and yet his interest in her was so unusually strong, it made the everyday action startlingly erotic. Earlier, while struggling to remove his trunks from the disabled carriage, Hugh’s gaze had continuously strayed to the beautiful redhead as she set his footman’s broken arm and tended to his abrasions. There was a quiet confidence to her deportment and an unflappable air of control that he admired. He’d struggled most of his life to find that sort of confidence in himself, but to Charlotte it seemed innate. Most women of his acquaintance would have been no assistance at all, but Charlotte had been invaluable. With her help they’d finished quickly and returned to the Kent estate with barely a moment to spare. Outside the wind howled and blew around with such force it was hard to see. Even now, her gorgeous red locks were dampening, the snow in them melting in the warmth of the stable. “You shouldn’t have ventured out here,” he said. “I wanted to be certain you found the salve.” Still crouched, she turned to face him, bringing her ripe mouth within inches of his own. Across her nose was a light dusting of freckles, the bane of most women’s existence, but a trait he’d always found charming.

• From Scandalous Liaisons (2007)

  Hugh studied her with a frown, trying to reason out why he found her so desirable. Charlotte was beautiful, yes, but no more so than he was accustomed to. The revealing breeches could have much to do with his constant state of arousal, although he’d never before considered men’s clothing particularly enticing. Of course his brother-in-law would beg to differ. “What are you doing out here?” he asked. She arched a brow. “I told you—” “No. Not here in the stables, here in Derbyshire.” Charlotte sat and crossed her legs. Hugh did the same. “I grew up here. I left for a while and then returned.” “Your family is here?” Hugh reached for a nearby towel and rubbed the salve from his palms. Then he picked up her hands and cleaned them as well, taking note of the calluses and ink stains that marred her fingers. The nails were trimmed to the quick, neat and without vanity, similar to the way she comported herself. “No,” she murmured, a bit breathless. “I have no family.” Finished with the cloth, he set it aside, but kept her hands within his. She didn’t protest, for which he was grateful. He enjoyed touching her, relishing the way it made his entire body prickle with a singular sensual awareness. “Tell me about the duchess.” If he hadn’t been holding her hand, he wouldn’t have known she tensed at his query. Her adeptness at hiding her feelings intrigued him. She was too young to be so expert at evasiveness. “What would you like to know?” she asked, looking away. He snorted. “What wouldn’t I like to know? Is she mad, like they say? Does she mistreat you? Why does she live like this? The horses live better than you. Why—” Charlotte covered his mouth with her hand. “No, no, and she doesn’t have any other choice.” She stood and tugged at their joined hands. He rose to his feet. “Allow me to show you to your rooms, my lord. You’ll see things are not so dreary as they appear at first glance.” “You’re avoiding my questions.” She smiled, a potent mixture of sweetness and allure, and his stomach clenched in response. “Not so,” she assured him, releasing his hand. “I simply want to answer some of your questions without words.” There was a bit of promise in the sparkle of her eyes, a hint that told Hugh she found him attractive. He was glad of that, for it made his goal much easier to attain. It was bloody freezing outside, and he’d be trapped here for days. The time would best be spent in bed with a lovely companion, and he wanted Charlotte with a sharpness he’d not experienced in a very long time, if ever. Hugh stepped closer, gauging her reaction, and smiled when she stood her ground, her emerald gaze neither frightened nor wary. “I thank you for your help today,” he murmured, reaching for her hand.