What She Craves by Lacy Danes Page A

the amber liquid.
    She sauntered to him without saying a word, straightened her shoulders, and dropped her valise to the Oriental carpet. “Ah, but, Allen, I am the one who decides what we do.”
    Inside, a smile lifted her heart at the thought of lounging by his side. It would be nice for a change to break from crops and whips, the tools Allen so craved.
    â€œIndeed, that is true, but I am the one who pays for your service. I have no vigor after last night’s debauchery. You would squander your fortitude this night, and you deserve the pleasure of making me squirm.”
    If only he knew she didn’t enjoy it. Well that was not entirely true. She did, just not the way he thought.
    Her protectors were, well, not men she naturally found attractive. She chose them with the strictest of care, ensuring not one of them could overpower her.
    â€œVery well, Allen. Tell me of your fun and share your scotch.”
    She forced her lip to protrude out into the pout he liked, and inwardly sighed. This aspect of Allen she enjoyed; he truly knew how to relax after an intense night.
    He slid his legs to the side and she sat, grasping the glass from his hands.
    â€œâ€™Twas the most amazing night, my dear. To say I saw and did things I only dreamed of would not boast enough. The Hell Knights—”
    The Hell Knights. She closed her eyes. Yet another of her clients that couldn’t keep up with the infamous club’s antics.
    The Knights were everything she avoided in her career. Powerful, handsome, and ruthless in the carnal desires. The kind of men who made her blood heat simply by standing in the same room with them. A tremor raced through her muscles as she imagined a large powerful man licking his way across her dewed skin. Oh how delightful.
    Several members approached her over the years, but she always turned them down. The risk of letting her emotions, her desires, get in the way of her profession was too great.
    She’d made the leap once—her heart constricted at the memory—to catastrophic consequences and still had the scars to show for it. Her fingers slid over her stomach and the prominent line of flesh beneath the cloth. Though—she scrutinized Allen’s slight form and crooked smile as he spouted on and on about his follies—it would be nice to do the act of shame with a man she fancied. She bit her lip. Perhaps one night she should indulge herself. Pins pricked up her neck. For just one night.
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    The carriage swayed and rocked as her stomach rolled. Bile rose in her throat, and her hand shot to her mouth. She wished the carriage caused her stomach’s unease. She swallowed hard.
    She swore she would never do this.
    Her hands trembled, nerves raw. As she closed her eyes, the carriage rolled to a stop.
    It was one night. One night she hoped would change her life forever.
    Heart in her throat, she grasped the bottle of bourbon that sat on the brown velvet seat next to her. Raising the decanter to her lips, she gulped one last long swallow. Yes. The liquid smooth and strong scorched her throat and burned through her limbs.
    Much, much better.
    Her hand shook as she placed the decanter back on the seat.
    This night was the thirty-sixth anniversary of her birth. Tonight she would indulge her desires and experience all she wished before her beauty faded and the world shunned her.
    The door to the carriage opened. The misty weather beyond the coach didn’t invite her out into the night. She bit her lip, her skin turning clammy. She needed to do this.
    Her footman held out his hand, and she alighted on wobbly legs. The plain brick terrace house and warm candle glow cast from the windows did not intimidate her, but the members within the walls quaked her to the quick.
    It was late evening and the street stood quiet. How foolish she acted. Once she had decided to attend, she washed and dressed in half the time she normally required but couldn’t sit still and wait for