A Most Demanding Mistress (Fashionably Impure Book 2)

by Natasha Blackthorne

  Of course, despite her wayward dreams, she didn’t really want to do something like that.

  Couldn’t possibly.

  She barely knew Ruel. Yet there was that innate sense that she could trust him. That she could give in to his whims and it would be safe. A secret shared between them. Temptation tingled through her, increasing with every beat of her heart.

  Reckless.

  She had never been reckless in her life. A trembling began in her legs.

  She turned back to him. His features were tight with desire, his stare commanding and compelling. She wanted to be reckless with this man.

  “The door is locked. The others aren’t going to come in here—the gentlemen are all occupied with fencing and the ladies are busy with their watercolours.”

  She’d never allow herself the luxury of surrendering to this. For this was pure emotion and it would be giving him too much of herself.

  “I won’t do it.” She had intended to make her tone resolute. That thready, pleading voice couldn’t possibly be hers.

  “It would please me.” His firm tone sent a new wave of lassitude through her limbs.

  Need twisted in her lower stomach and a fresh cascade of wetness slicked her intimate folds. It slid down her inner thighs.

  Wait—How had they come to this moment? Where the devil was the reserve and sexual coolness that had driven William into other arms? This virtual stranger held some kind of special power over her. God. It was unthinkable. It was terrifying.

  “No.” Her strident denial echoed jarringly in her ears.

  He released her wrists.

  She pulled the gown up high and clutched it tight. She wanted to run. She should run. But his large, strong body still stood between her and the exit. Would he really attempt to stop her if she tried to flee? Her heart pounded at the thought. Because she knew that if he put his hands on her and stopped her, especially if he did it as forcefully and firmly as he’d behaved thus far, she’d melt for him.

  What a revelation! She’d never suspected such a creature existed in her secret heart, waiting for someone to come along and draw her out.

  “You’d better leave now.” She pushed the words past her shaking lips.

  Also from Natasha Blackthorne

  The Delicate Matter of Lady Blayne

  Intimate Secrets (Book One)

  Catriona, Lady Blayne is recovering from a most delicate situation. Driven to the brink of madness by love for her late husband, a young man too ill to meet the demands of the marriage bed, she teeters on the brink of scandal. Now she must face the carnal temptation personified by her husband’s cousin and heir, James, the new Lord Blayne. His sensual appeal, contrasted with his iron will and stern self-mastery fascinates her. She can’t help but ask: what if sensual indulgence is the only way out of her darkness? However, she is not free to explore the idea. There are those who seek to control the young widow, keeping her imprisoned through emotional manipulation and physical coercion. With her growing restlessness, the very people she loves and trusts the most are becoming an increasing danger to her sanity and safety.

  James is determined to protect Catriona—but he will not soften to her again. She rejected him once and James can’t risk losing his heart a second time. As heir to the Blayne baronetcy, he must marry a woman socially and politically appropriate. Such a scandalously self-indulgent lady as Catriona won’t do. Yet the pretty girl he once knew has grown into a beautiful, curvaceous woman that is every man’s dream.

  Especially his.

  Erotic Romance; Regency Historical; Elements of Sensual Domination, Spanking and Light Bondage; Rubenesque Heroine; Character-Driven Story with Angst and Strong Internal Conflicts; Standalone Long Novel.

  Reader Advisory: The characters discuss issues of abuse which took place in the heroine’s backstory. Frank sexual language & period appropriate sexual slang and general bedchamber naughtiness.

  She had escaped her captors. Those who watched her.

  Now Sunny stood by James’ bed, listening to the distant chime of the clock in the vestibule.

  One single chime.

  Soft snores issued from between his parted, sensual lips. Despite the late hour, he still wore a shirt and trousers. His collar lay open.

  She picked up the hem of her nightdress and pulled it up, over her head, then tossed it aside. Cool air made gooseflesh erupt all over her. Tightened her nipples. She shivered then noticed a bottle on the night table. She picked it up and sniffed it. Whisky.

  She hated whisky. But her mouth and throat were so hellishly dry. She put the bottle to her lips and took a tentative swig, coughing and sputtering then shuddering as the burn of liquor spread through her. The fire was thrilling. Stimulating. Forbidden to her. She took another drink. And another. When the bottle was drained, she replaced it on the night table. The bottle teetered and she caught it. The chamber seemed to tilt and turn.

  She closed her eyes and licked her lips, waiting for the giddiness to ease. But it wasn’t passing too quickly, so she sat on his bed. Though the bed rocked, he made no sign that he’d noticed.

  She considered the way he lay in the bed, as though he had flung himself there. She frowned. What cause had he to drink himself to sleep? Was he troubled by something?

  What could possibly affect a Rock of Gibraltar that much?

  He groaned softly in his sleep.

  She smoothed the hair off his forehead, lingering a moment over the surprisingly silky texture of the inky black strands.

  She slid her hand down the crisp linen shirt, down to the bare, hard flatness of his abdomen.

  Once again, James moaned in his sleep. Sunny lay beside him and leaned close to his face. He snored softly between slightly parted lips and the scent of whisky and musky male sweat overwhelmed her.

  She placed her mouth on his. His lips were soft yet firm. She pressed her lips to his more passionately. The lack of response sent a wave of frustration through her. She slid her hand down the cool linen of his shirt, down to where the shirt ended. The warmth of his flesh, the hardness of his muscled stomach, the line of coarse hair, it all set her pulses pounding.

  She slid her hand further down, down, down, edging beneath the waistband of his trousers, searching until her fingers met the coarser, prickling hair and then the smooth warmth of his cock.

  She caught her breath.

  His erection swelled against her hand, making things very confined beneath his fall.

  He groaned.

  She did her best to stroke him in the limited space.

  He groaned louder, harsher, rolling towards her. He grasped her hair, and the brush of his fingers sent tingling chills down the back of her neck. His hold tightened and he held her head in his grip.

  Dull pain spread over her scalp and gooseflesh erupted along her nape, down her back. The sensation made her nipples harden and ache. She arched her back, pressing against his chest. The crisp linen of his shirt abraded her tight peaks. He pressed his lips to hers more firmly, definitely changing the balance of power between them.

  She was no longer kissing him; he was kissing her.

  Intense, delicious pressure.

  He slid his hands down her back.

  His touch sent waves of shivering pleasure through her. She writhed and the crisp linen of his shirt stimulated her nipples, sending sparks of fire shooting down deep into her belly. He slid his hands down to cup her buttocks, holding her writhing body still. Pressing her to his erection.

  He was huge and so hard.

  “Wench,” he muttered.

  Did he think she was a tavern wench? Is that what pleased him?

  He thrust his hips, grinding his throbbing heat against her aching nub. She was growing wetter and wetter, dampening the skin between her thighs.

  He kissed her more intensely, the taste of whisky and carnal fire on his tongue as he stroked it against hers, sweeps of wet, sensual velvet. The stubble on his cheek scraped hers. She thrust her tongue back against his. He gripped h
er hair harder and deepened the kiss, in his ardor sucking away her breath.

  She put her hands to his chest and pushed.

  He lifted his mouth.

  “James…,” she said breathlessly. Inside she was tingling, her blood thrumming. She gulped for air, still tasting the exquisite, fiery elixir of his kiss and wanting more. His whole body went stiff.

  “Sunny?” His voice rang with disbelief.

  He pulled away.

  “No, no…” She grasped his shoulders and tugged with all her might to bring him back.

  He propelled her from his body and spun her to face away from him so fast that her stomach lurched and the chamber seemed to spin. She gasped, trying to catch her breath, to regain her bearings. His cock pressed against the softness of her buttocks, rock hard and pulsing heat. She arched backwards, pressing herself against that glorious erection.

  He shoved her further away from him…

  His hands were like bands of iron, holding her wrists.

  She tried to turn in his arms but he held her fast.

  “Hold…still.” His words came between heavy pants.

  She struggled all the harder but, truth told, she relished in his restraint.

  It made her feel safe.

  Odd, the restraints Dr. Meeker used when administering treatments never made her feel safe. They were a torment to her.

  Confusion made her feel dizzy once more, and dry-mouthed fear tingled to life within her. The urge to flee sent her into an erratic beat and she wrenched her arms, trying now with desperation to free herself. She kicked backwards and shrieked a curse at him.

  He seemed to freeze for a moment. Had she shocked him?

  She kicked and pulled harder. One of her wrists came free, her arm flying free. She turned, halfway, and on instinct, let her hand continue flying. It made sharp stinging contact with his chest where his shirt gaped open.

  His grip tightened on her remaining arm. Fear-fueled rage energized her. She reached for his face, clawing him.

  His curse burnt her ears.

  Something made contact with her buttock. The sound echoed sharply in the room. Shock hit her, made her freeze. In the next moment, a fiery sting spread over her bottom.

  Rage overtook her fear, so strong, she screamed with it and kicked her legs and beat at his chest with her fists.

  She cursed him roundly, demanding that he let her leave. Now.

  He laid several more spanks on her posterior. Several very sharp spanks. Stinging pain spread over her buttocks.

  She whimpered, stunned into stillness for the moment.

  Still holding one wrist, he rolled her onto her back and flung a leg over hers, locking her into place.

  She tried to resist him again but she was growing tired, her struggling becoming more like flailing.

  And the maddening thing was, he simply watched her.

  Watched her fight, watched her grow weaker.

  Eventually, she went limp in his arms. Exhausted.

  “What the devil, Sunny?”

  “Let me go!”

  “You want to go?” he asked, as though she hadn’t just spoken clear English.

  “Yes, you-you-you…coxcomb!”

  He regarded her seriously. “I don’t think I should let you go. At least not quite yet.”

  She swallowed hard, trying to think of what to do or say.

  “What are you about here, Sunny?”

  He spoke in that same calm, serious tone he always did. Yet, now there was a hard edge beneath the calm.

  Her mouth went even drier and she swallowed once more, delaying her response. Her racing heart was slowing.

  Well, what the devil had just happened? Dizziness overcame her as she frowned, confused.

  She’d come here to do what?

  Seduce him.

  Right.

  She hadn’t expected his resistance. She certainly hadn’t expected his aggressive response. She had become frightened.

  No, she had become frightened of her feelings towards him.

  Just as when she’d been a girl. She ought not to have run away from him that night in the garden, so long ago. She ought to have allowed James to seduce her. They would have had to get married then, wouldn’t they? It wouldn’t have been her fault?

  No, Freddy needed me.

  And you let him down.

  She frowned. That was the past and the past was set in stone. All her sins and failures were set in stone.

  But the lesson is don’t be a ninny! Don’t run, seduce him!

  How did women tempt gentlemen? Surely gentlemen had more refined tastes than commoners did.

  Certainly kissing him and thrusting her hand down his trews and stroking his manly parts hadn’t worked. Yes, it had given him an erection—and what an erection! But it hadn’t placed her any closer to attaining her goal, either.

  What else should she do? How did one seduce a Rock of Gibraltar?

  “You’re drunk,” he said.

  “No, no, I am not.”

  “Just how much did you have to drink?”

  Again, she heard the incredulousness in his voice.

  She reached up with her free hand, intending to stroke the side of his face. To make an appeal.

  He seized her wrist. “There’ll be no more of that.”

  Hurt blossomed in her chest. Did he not trust her? “No, do no’ deny me. Take me. Make me yours.”

  He was giving her the oddest look. “I think you said you’d like me to take you?” His frown deepened. “Bed you?”

  She nodded avidly. “Yes, yes…oh, please, yes.”

  He stared at her. Oh, his expression! As though she’d suddenly sprouted horns. Did she repulse him that much?

  She wriggled against the coverlet, the contact making her aware of the lingering sting on her buttocks.

  He had actually spanked her!

  Why had he been so intent on detaining her if he hadn’t wanted what she had offered him?

  He laughed softly

  .

  “You think it is amusing?” she asked. Shame burnt into her.

  He brushed the hair off the side of her neck then and traced a fingertip along the cord down to her collarbone. “I didn’t think I needed to lock my door against you, Sunny.”

  How cruel and mocking he was! She had never known this cruel side to him.

  He leaned forward and pressed his lips to her neck. The soft-firm touch of his mouth sent shivers through her. Making her nipples tighten.

  Making her more confused than ever.

  “You don’t really want this,” he said.

  His assured tone puzzled her. Hadn’t she come here naked to his bed? What man would ask himself aught beyond that? “I do, I do,” she said.

  “Much as I’d love to oblige you, my lady, you’re too foxed to know what you are doing.” He kissed her nape again, this time opening his mouth. Heated breath blew on her flesh, and then the slight bite of teeth.

  Wild shivers of pleasure chased down to her belly, tightening her nipples all the more and sending gooseflesh all over her body.

  Despite the kindness in his voice, he had been teasing her. Mocking her. How foolish of her to have come here.

  To have thought he might still want her.

  To Purchase The Delicate Matter of Lady Blayne, or to read free via Kindle Unlimited, please click here: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00XILLMDW

  Also from Natasha Blackthorne

  HER MYSTERY DUKE

  Erotica Romance Light BDSM Rubenesque / BBW ~ Regency

  Historical ~ May-Dec Non-virginal Heroine Kept Woman / Courtesan ~ Novel Length, approx. 85,000 words.

  Is he insane? Or is he the answer to all her naughty dreams?

  Jeanne Darling spent her adolescence coping with her father’s increasing illness and insanity. Left alone by his death and plunged into poverty, she did what she had to do to survive. Now still reeling from the overwhelming physical and emotional demands her father’s care required, she values her peace above a
ll. She doesn’t need anyone or anything except her writing and the safety of her rented garret chamber. She’s about to rise above her past and create financial independence for herself. What she absolutely does not need is the mysterious and possibly insane stranger who walks into the coffee shop and into her life.

  David Somerville, the Duke of Hartley, has known pain and betrayal from the people closest to him. Born to privilege, power and wealth, and filled with idealistic vision for humane change, he gives all of himself to his political career. He keeps his life circumspectly under control. But one day, all the carefully arranged threads of his life unravel and his life intersects with Jeanne’s in a way that challenges his view of everything he thinks he knows.

  Leagues apart in society, they can have only one possible future, that of protector and mistress. And neither wants to risk deeper connection. However, their overwhelming attraction and resulting sexual games provide them with pleasures neither of them has ever known. Will their sensual journey lead them to discover a more emotionally profound side to domination and submission? Or will their seemingly insurmountable differences and passionate personal goals drive them apart?

  HER MYSTERY DUKE is a work of historical erotic romance. Though it contains elements of light BDSM, it is not meant to be a guide to or an accurate portrayal of modern BDSM lifestyles or practices. This story contains graphic descriptions of sexual acts and frank sexual language. It also contains light bondage, anal play, sexual toys, cunnilingus, fellatio, masturbation, voyeurism and spanking.

  “Tender moments, HOT BONDAGE, feisty heroine…Everything a good erotic historical novel should have.” A review for HER MYSTERY DUKE ~ An Amazon Review

  “Smokin’ Hot Regency…Seriously Erotic…I want a man like that for my own!” ~ An Amazon Review

  “Classy, very well written tale brings you back in time…sexy, sensual and erotic…light BDSM that makes you burn…you’ll be fanning yourself while you melt in your seat.” ~ Five Stars From Let’s Get Romantical

  “The erotic elements in this book are off the charts! I cannot give you the words of how sexy and hot it was. There are light BDSM tones to the scenes and let me tell you, mmmmm…mmmmm! I read a couple of scenes twice….Her Mystery Duke is a well executed and thought provoking read. If you have a love of Historical Romances with an erotic twist to the tale…then ladies!…ladies, you have to read Natasha’s work. You will become a fan…I guarantee it.” ~ Salacious Reads