Dark and Stormy Knight by Nina Mason Read Free Book Online Page B

delectably dirty. He pulled the pages out and read the title. Shock struck his heart with the force of a battering ram. Bloody hell. It was a screen adaptation of his book!
    Sitting cross-legged on the bed, he set the manuscript in front of him. As he moved the pages from one pile to the other, his emotions zigzagged from shock to outrage to admiration to glee.
    He was saved. The sale of the film rights would provide the money to restore Glenarvon and clear his debts. A sly smile played on his lips as he considered how much Gwyneth Morland, aspiring screenwriter, might be willing to give of herself to achieve her ends.
    Her response to the erotic trilogy had raised his hopes. The flush of her cheeks, the way she twirled her hair, the unmistakable tang of female arousal. Oh, aye. She’d been turned on by what she’d read all right.
    A scene took shape inside his mind. She was the lady of the manor’s abigail; he, the laird who’d returned from a ride to find her in a compromising position with one of the grooms. No, wait. Make that two of the grooms. She was on her knees in the hay sucking the cock of one while the other fucked her from behind. As he entered the barn, the threesome broke apart, though not before his own cock throbbed with need. He grabbed the buggy whip off a peg on the wall and flailed it at the grooms as they jumped about, hobbled by their dropped breeks.
    After he’d driven them off, he confronted the maid. “You’ve been a very naughty lassie,” he told her, snapping the whip against his boot, “and must pay for your transgressions.”
    The power he felt was intoxicating. He struck his boot again, dispatching a white-hot bolt of lust to the engorgement straining against his form-fitting breeches. Thrills swam through his blood as her gaze shifted to the evidence of his intentions. He sauntered over, took her by the wrist, and led her into the tack room. A biting mixture of leather and saddle soap invaded his nostrils. Parking himself on a wooden bench, he pulled her across his lap. He slipped a hand under her skirts, savoring the velvety smoothness of her thighs.
    “What are you going to do to?”
    “No more than the grooms have already done,” he said, “and no less than you deserve.”
    At that, he flung her heavy skirts over her back, baring her beautiful backside. Goose pimples pebbled the lily-white mounds of her bum. He raised his hand and brought it down hard. The snap of the impact further heated his blood. He spanked her again on the other cheek, leaving a matching set of rosy handprints.
    One for each groom.
    She raised no protest. Good. The wicked wench knew what she had coming. Burying his hand between her legs, he fingered her intimate folds. They were slick with the juices of sexual excitement. Homing in on her swollen bud, he made slow circles with his fingertip as he pressed the hard evidence of his own arousal against her ribcage.
    A knock at the door shattered the fantasy. God’s teeth. He’d completely forgotten he’d summoned the butler and could hardly answer the door in his present condition.
    “Give me a minute, eh?”
    He stuffed the screenplay into the backpack and climbed off the bed. Grabbing his robe off a nearby chair, he pulled it on and tied the belt. Damn, his cockstand made an obvious tent.
    He’d not been with a woman in far too long. Lack of funds made it impossible to hire someone willing to sign a confidentiality agreement and pulling a lass from the local pub was too indiscreet. How he thwarted his curse was nobody’s business save his own. However desperate he might be for sex, he couldn’t bear the invasion of privacy wagging tongues would surely bring.
    Taking a deep breath, he called to mind the unanswered letter from his accountant asking for more money to pay the mounting bills. Almost at once, his erection withered.
    Hurrying over, he pulled open the door. On the other side, as expected, stood Gavin.
    “You rang, my lord?”
    “Aye, Gavin.