Free Blood Rose by Sharon Page Page A

as the vampires played, but she was no match for Miss Lark.
    Hell, he was no gentleman, and Drake admitted it freely. When he’d burst into the billiard room where Miss Lark was a prisoner, he taken a long look at her naked form while battling her captors, and he’d savored the sight.
    Miss Lark’s pulse fluttered in her throat, and Drake angled to get a better view of the scene before them. The vampires bent to their lover’s breasts, and two tongues flicked the hard nipples.
    Miss Lark gave a startled cry, then a moan—a husky moan that spoke to Drake’s soul.
    He cradled her breasts, knowing he’d gone too far. Her sweet nipples rose at once at the scrape of his fingertip. Drake’s voice was a rasp from his dry throat. “Do you desire me as much as I want you, little lark?”

    Blood Rose ©Sharon Page 2007 Email: [email protected] 32

    Serena knew she must stop. Lord Sommersby must have noticed they hadn’t followed—he would return any moment. She had to regain control of herself. Vlad Dracul’s journal—she needed the journal. And this was not a dream! What was to happen tomorrow, in daylight, after she’d let these two hunters touch her?
    She had to concentrate on her goal—but Drake Swift’s body, lean and powerful and solid, pressed against her. She should push his hands from her breasts. But she couldn’t. She wanted them there. It thrilled to look down, to see him cupping and fondling.
    “Of course, I desire you—” His thumbs strummed her nipples through silk, and she lost her voice. She struggled to speak. “Don’t all women?”
    He chuckled. “Putting me in my place, little lark?”
    She couldn’t answer his question. To her shock, she saw the vampires part the courtesan’s robe. Their hands disappeared inside, and the woman’s moan was pleading, agonized. Serena could imagine the way his fingers—in black gloves—would look as they played within glistening pink lips—
    “The vampires want to perform for us,” Mr. Swift murmured. “If we leave, they might grow suspicious.” His voice sounded like Lucifer, urging the innocent to offer their souls. As dangerously seductive as a drug. She knew now why the other hunters called Drake Swift a madman.
    He squeezed her bosom, his tongue slid up to her earlobe, and her legs became melted butter.
    “But Lord Somm—”
    “Do not think about Lord Sommersby, sweeting. Think about me.”
    Both vampires played between the woman’s full, nude thighs—so many fingers. The woman moaned at the invasion, and as they withdrew, Serena could smell the woman’s desire. Their gloves would be soaked and sticky with the woman’s juices.
    “I would like to touch you that way, Serena.”
    Her Christian name. Spoken with a softness, a vulnerability, in his voice that Serena had never heard before. “Mr—”
    “You can’t shock me by enjoying my touches. It pleases me to know you do. Life is short—a shame to endure it in frustrated piety.”
    “Yes, touch me,” she invited, and wondered if she’d plunged into madness.
    The nose of Mr. Swift’s mask ran teasingly along her neck. Shivers tumbled. Her cunny throbbed. “Do you know what the nose of the mask is used for, love?” Swift asked.
    Had she thrown herself off the cliff into wanton insanity? She knew, she knew, she could never tame a rogue like Drake Swift.
    She gave one brief shake of her head.
    “The nose of the mask would tease your clit while I licked your sweet quim. Do you know about your clit, Miss Lark? How touches there can make you explode?”
    She froze. Yes, she knew about pleasure, about a man’s touch between her thighs, but she had never revealed her sin to anyone.
    It had been a mistake. A foolish mistake. Too often girls made mistakes, and she’d been a very foolhardy girl, with a foolhardy heart.
    “I could slide the nose inside you, filling you, while my tongue circles around your bum—”
    Serena moaned. Pleasure, demanding and intense, built in her. Her hips