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Hush by Lizbeth Dusseau
He quickens her heart, awakens her passion, and drives her deep into the enigma of his mysterious past. Photojournalist, Dana Padget, enters the lush world of Lucien Broussard, unsuspecting of his charms and his power to woo her. Engaging her in a gentle but thorough seduction, he fulfills a sexual need in her she long ago dismissed. Even as the romantic passion builds, Dana knows there’s danger lurking beneath the surface of the tempestuous affair – in the secrets of Lucien’s perplexing house and in the ghost of his murdered wife, Ariel, who haunts its corridors night and day.
In a war of reality versus the supernatual, Dana questions her own sanity, as her love for the enchanting Lucien becomes something that she knows she cannot live without. This romantic novel is brimming with suspense, sumptuous sexual escapades, and a romance that blooms out of nightmares, and fantasy and curious mystical twists.

Additional information

Weight 0.99 lbs
Artist Credit

Cover Art Dmitriy Raykin –

Publish Date

Revised Edition 2014

Page Count


Word Count



In the Attic . . .

“It is dusty.  I’m glad you wore rough clothes.”  He stared at her jeans and the old sweatshirt, his eyes resting on her breasts.  With just this slight inspection, Dana felt a surge of sexual excitement – what had been passing back and forth between them all day long.  Could he tell she wore no bra?  Likely, considering the way her nipples poked through the fabric, and the way he couldn’t take his eyes from them.  “You’ll be okay to work here by yourself?” he asked, suddenly looking up at her face.

“You’re planning to leave me here?” Dana asked.

“Does that bothers you?”

“I don’t know.  It feels a little creepy?”

“Does it?”  Lucien looked around the room as if it had an answer.  “Maybe your apprehensions are more about me than his room,” he suggested.

Dana looked up at him, feeling his presence envelope her as if his aura was a cocoon to wrap around her shivering shoulders.  He moved closer and then leaning in, he kissed her, letting his lips linger.

“You’re nervous,” he said.

“A little.  I feel so much when I’m in this house, or anywhere near you.”  The confession made her cheeks grow hot.

“Then perhaps we should take care of the lust first,” he suggested.

“The lust?” she whispered.

“What’s here,” he said with his hand going to her crotch, pressing against it so they both could feel the pulsing there.  A stream of energy was released just by his touch.

“I… I don’t know.”

“Of course you do,” he said.  He backed her to the wall, his hand fondling her crotch until she was moving with it.  All from outside the jeans, she was shivering to think that they’d disrobe, that she’d see his nakedness, that she would feel his skin against her own.  Glancing to a corner of the room, her eyes rested on a cot she hadn’t seen before.

“It’s what you wanted.  To take me here, isn’t it?” she asked.

“Only if it’s your desire,” he said.  Both his hands actively caressed her.  The kneading fingers drew from her body more sensation.  One hand going up under the sweatshirt found her breasts naked and that seemed to inspire him more.  He tore the garment off over her head and tossed it away.  Bending down to her chest his mouth covered her nipples and sucked them hard, then with two hands squeezing them like baker’s dough, he pressed his kisses into the soft skin.  Standing upright again, he undid the snap on her jeans, drew the zipper down and pushed them away.  With her pants as easily discarded as her sweatshirt, she was left with just her panties, tiny black ones with lacy trim that defined the pleasurable erotic triangle of her sexual home.  His hand diving beyond the flimsy fabric like it was a layer of dust, he pushed aside her pubic hair to find the wetness of her center.  Strange that he didn’t move her to the cot, didn’t remove a stitch of his own clothes – and even discouraged her when her hands coursed his torso to disrobe him.

“I want to be with you like this,” he murmured.  “I want you in my power, like a sculpture I can mold.”  He played with her that way, almost like he was rearranging the basic elements of her body to reshape them.

She was gasping for air, feeling smothered and loved in the same instant.  His mouth as demanding as his hands, covered her mouth with endless, devouring kisses.  And still, when she tried to caress him back, with even half the passion that he inflicted on her, he denied her that, at one point removing her hands from his chest and placing them at her side.  “Let me love you,” he said softly, and he dove into her again with another fierce blast.  At last, he picked her up and carried her to the bed and laid her down.  Purposefully designing the tender rape, Lucien turned her about so that she was on hands and knees, her ass end high.  She might have felt disconnected, used like a whore in that position, but Lucien’s hands were everywhere, their anxious torment on every inch of skin, making her so wet and clamoring for his penis inside her that she wiggled her fanny for him as a flagrant seduction.

“You want me here?” he whispered, leaning down towards her ear.  She felt his lips touching her there lightly, felt his breath float inside.  She jerked, realizing that one hand was playing avidly with her whole behind, first kneading her rear cheeks, then dropping between them to invade the private spaces there.

“Oh, my god, yes –” she hissed for him

She felt him behind her, pressing himself.  His erection dislodged from his pants, it thrust its way to the hilt of her vagina, making her gasp hard, feeling as if she wanted to cry from the vehemence, from the beauty, from the thrill of releasing herself into Lucien’s power.

“More, more more–” she gasped to him loudly.

“Hush, hush, hush, my sweet,” he purred in her ear.  He drew her body upright into his strong arms and held her tightly to him, while his penis remained securely lodged inside.  With one hand playing with her gasping mouth, the other with her jiggling breasts, he pounded her hard, and then harder still.  When a hand dropped from her mouth to her pubic mound, he held her crotch in his grasp, and drove the shaft of his erection deeper still.

“Good god!” she blared, wiggling herself as best she could on his fingers.  They’d found her clitoris, hard and waiting to be manipulated.  She groaned from a place so deep, she’d never knew it existed within her trite form.  Climaxing in seconds, her pulsing inner muscles brought his finale briskly, and the two dropped down to the cot in exhaustion.


“Why don’t you remove your clothes with me?” Dana asked as her lover lay sleepily at her side.

“Does it bother you?” he asked.

“I’ve been imagining your naked body,” she admitted.

“Then you’ll see it soon,” he said dreamily, as if he was falling off to sleep.

Resting in his comforting arms, she didn’t need her clothes to feel warm, or his nakedness to feel close to him.  She felt as close to him as she’d ever felt to any man.  The way he’d known the path to her satisfaction was an instinctive intimacy she could easily call real love.  She drifted a little herself in the tingling erotic afterglow, before she suddenly awoke with a cry on her lips and a look of terror in her eye.


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