What She Craves by Lacy Danes

staff, milking his very essence. With each caress, his prick never leaving her hot hold. His hips thrust up hard, body shuddering as his sack contracted. “Ooh…damn…” Burst after burst, his seed spilled into her womb.
    â€œKenny!” She rubbed frantically along him as the walls of her womb clamped tight about his spent prick in wave after wave. Her arms collapsed. Her head plunked on his chest. They panted as one.
    Her lips curved against his skin.
    â€œSweet.” He ran his hand through her dark hair. “There is no better way to wake up.”
    â€œI know. You called out my name several times this morning and were stiff, so I…” She raised her eyebrows, staring down at him.
    â€œScandalous.”
    â€œI guess I did take advantage. I couldn’t resist.”
    He sat up and pulled her with him.
    â€œIt is all like a dream.” Shaking his head, he pushed her thick black hair over her shoulder to nibble her neck. He kept thinking she would disappear just as he put his arms around her.
    â€œThis is real.” She placed her hand on his chest. “I love you, Kenny. I have since the summer we spent together.”
    He flipped her, wedging himself between her legs.
    â€œDo you? Hannah…I am not who you think. You deserve so much more than a man whose mother does not know who fathered him.”
    Her blue eyes, filled with compassion and heat, stared at him. “Kenny, I have no doubt who your father is. You are the mirror image of the lord Duke of Deventon. Either way, it does not matter. Not to me. I love you.”
    He smiled. “Love.” Such a strange all-encompassing passion. She had held his heart since boyhood, and now that he had hers, he would never let it go.
    Shifting his hands, he cupped her bottom and lifted her to gaze at her beautiful full nether lips, swollen from fucking. There was nothing more beautiful. He wanted to massage them with his tongue. His cock stiffened; he would never get enough of her.
    He leaned in to worship his love as she deserved.

Checkmate

1
    Mayfair, London, England 1818
    R AP…RAP…
    RAP…
    The hard wood stung through Cora’s gloved hand as the door to the large servant’s entrance jerked open, revealing Lord Nottingland’s cook, Jan. The woman’s churlish eyes narrowed upon seeing her and scrutinized Cora’s cloaked body.
    â€œYes, dear Jan, I still look as handsome as ever.” She pushed past Jan and into the kitchen. What a jest.
    Cora slid her hood back from her face; Jan still frowned at her. She no doubt noticed her jest in the wrinkles at the corner of her eyes that increased in length and width at each visit. No amount of cream could conceal them or the beginnings of gray that tinged her hair.
    Jan’s master would soon tire of her fading looks, as would all her protectors, and loneliness would be her fate.
    The frown that graced Jan’s face showed no compassion.
    Disgust radiated from the plump woman’s body as fevered as any lover’s passion. Jan despised her and the men she still attracted.
    â€œI believe your randy master is expecting me.” Cora raised her eyebrows. Jan’s eyes widened in shock, and a grin tugged Cora’s lips. She couldn’t resist flustering her.
    Allen’s valet entered to escort her to his chambers. Smiling once more at Jan, she winked, clutched her satchel to her body, and followed him to his master’s suites.
    She entered the dim, royal-blue bedroom to find Allen stretched out on his ornately carved dressing couch. His robe lay open, displaying naked hairy legs, a typical scotch in hand. To think his title made him a catch on the marriage mart. If the ton could only see him now. She stifled a chuckle.
    â€œMy dearest.” He inclined his head. “I beg your pardon, but I am not up for our appointment this night.” Dark black bags hung beneath his eyes, his complexion sullen as he gulped a mouthful of