His head snapped up, looking into Sarah's eyes for the first time. Despite her current low opinion of him, she felt a little flutter take root deep in her belly. He might have a few things to learn about gentlemanly behavior, but Grant LaCroix certainly wasn’t hard to look at.
“I can’t stay.” His voice was hard, but shaky.
“I’m going to have to pull the foal out, and I can’t do that with her kicking at me. You seem to be the only one that can settle her down.”
Sarah uttered a silent prayer as Grant drew in a deep breath and slowly let it out. His hands trembled a little against the mare's sable hair as he petted her.
Was he squeamish? Was that what all of this was about? He sure didn’t look the type. Tall and broad in the shoulders, he looked like he could take on anything that life threw at him. Then again, she knew better than to judge nerves by appearance. She’d seen more than one arrogant frat boy pass out at the first sight of blood. Of course, Grant LaCroix could never be confused for a kid.
“You have me until the sun reaches the horizon.” He whispered the words gently to the mare. Then he looked up at Sarah. “I can’t promise you any more.”
“We’ll just have to see if it’s enough.”
He stared at her, a strange intensity building in his eyes. At first Sarah thought that she might have offended him, but the look wasn’t it. There wasn’t any hurt or anger in his gaze, just something that bordered on hunger.
It looked like a barely contained craving that was focused solely on her.
The mare screamed again, and Sarah snapped back to herself in a hurry. She was here to help an animal in danger, not indulge in whatever wild fantasies her sex-starved libido had decided to invent.
Enjoy Bound By Desire now.
EXCERPT: A Lady Bound
By Delilah Clare
Lord Dowerdon spoke softly. “There is a vignette inside the wood for those who tread off the beaten path. It is quiet there. There is a bench where you may sit unobserved while you recover your sensibilities.”
“What is the vignette?” she asked breathlessly, whether from dread or anticipation she could not quite tell.
“It is a scene of punishment. A woman stands there alone. Bound. Blindfolded. Waiting.”
They stepped beneath the canopy of oaks, still in full leaf and rustling lightly in the breeze high up in their branches. “Waiting for what?”
He brushed aside a withy and led her forward along a narrow path. “Whatever comes.”
A shiver rippled down Hettie’s spine. “Why is she punished?”
“I do not know the particulars in this case. Perhaps she displeased her lord somehow. Though it is possible that he simply felt her to be in want of greater humility.”
“A man punishes her? Her husband?”
He paused. “It is a vignette. No more.”
“Is she a widow then?”
“I don’t know.”
“But this is something she chose. The woman being punished?”
“None at Barrowton Hall are ever coerced. Unless that is what they wish.”
“What does that mean?”
“It’s not my place to say. All will become clear, my lady. Do not fret. Please. I should not have spoken. Ah, here is the bench we seek.” He led her into a small glade where a sturdy oaken seat was tucked up against the trunk of a stout tree. “If you sit here, as your eyes adjust to the darkness, you will be able to discern the woman of whom I spoke across that blackberry bramble. The canes will keep any other visitors away from you. Aside from the lady, who may hear us speaking now, none will know you are here.”
Hettie quickly disengaged her hand from his arm and sat. He placed the cup and water jug beside her, then stood back. “Do you wish for me to stay for a time?”
To watch a bound woman raped by any who happened upon her? Well, not raped, she supposed, if the lady had willingly placed herself here. But used. Possibly harshly. Without knowing who used her. Such a . . . disturbing idea.
Hettie shook her head, then realized he might not have been able to see her in the dark shadows beneath the oak. “No, my lord. I believe I need a few minutes alone. Thank you for showing me here. I am quite sure I can find my way back along the path when I am ready.”
“You will be completely safe, my lady. In this you may trust.” He bowed, and then melted into the night.
Hettie closed her eyes, but that did not stop the parade of images she had seen that night from flashing through her mind. So she opened them instead, and tried to focus in the quiet night sounds to calm her. It wasn’t at all cold, fortunately, especially not in the protection of the wood. On the whole, it was very quiet and peaceful. When the light wind stirred the high branches, she could see the stars peeking at her from the heavens. Crickets chirped, and she heard the soft crackle of mouse feet racing over fallen leaves.
As her heartbeat slowed and her breath relaxed, Hettie was uncomfortably aware of how wet she was inside her drawers. Well, it was no wonder with all she’d seen. And Lord Dowerdon’s imposing presence had not helped. The combination made her wish fervently that she weren’t laced so tightly into her stays as to make it impossible to give herself relief in a quick and efficient manner. Anthony had liked to watch her touch herself. But despite Lord Dowerdon’s assurance that she would be left entirely alone, she could not relax long enough to bring herself to climax. That would have to wait until later when she was snug in her bed and in no danger of being discovered by unknown persons tramping through the woods in search of carnal enticements. She was not putting herself on the menu of Sin Fair vignettes.
Finally, in a desperate bid to take her thoughts off her growing need, she glanced over the bramble and saw at once the woman kneeling on the ground at the base of a thick pole to which her hands were chained. Her naked skin glowed pale against the dark foliage of the forest, and she was, as Lord Dowerdon had said, blindfolded. She sat still as glass, head bowed, bound hands resting on her thighs. Hettie decided this was pretty tame stuff compared to what all else she’d seen that night.
As she watched the woman, she wondered what the night air felt like against her bare breasts. It must be interesting to be undressed outdoors. Surely at one time, people would have cavorted naked in the woods instead of being trussed into stays and layers of heavy clothes. Hettie thought it must be very freeing to sit naked in the woods. She might not mind that.
Then she got to wondering what it would feel like to have chains bind her wrists. Unconsciously, she crossed her wrists in her lap, mimicking the naked woman’s pose. Did she have shackles on? It was difficult to tell at the distance of some thirty feet or so that separated Hettie from the woman. Surely shackles would bite into tender flesh and rub against delicate bones. Yet the woman did not look uncomfortable. She appeared composed. Tranquil even.
Just then a twig snapped beneath a heavy foot, and both Hettie and the woman she watched straightened their shoulders. Hettie looked wildly around for the source of the noise, but the woman kept her head bent submissively. There was tension in her back though, where there had been none.
A faint and wavering light moved toward the woman from opposite Hettie’s hiding place. A few heartbeats later a torch, held aloft, threw leaping shadows into the clearing where the woman was chained. The sudden light blinded Hettie, but when her eyes adjusted, she saw it was borne by a heavy-set bearded man. He came to a sudden halt when he caught sight of the helpless captive.
Without a word, he rammed the torch into the ground so that it illuminated the woman. From the ground, he raised two more unlit torches, touched them to the first, and staked them where they threw light on her from three sides. Then he circled her slowly, his eyes gleaming in the torchlight, his gaze hungry. He stopped in front of her, looking her up and down, and then very slowly pulled off his gloves, one finger at a time.
Hettie was mesmerized by his desire. It gave him a dangerous, predatory air that thrilled her as much as anything she had seen that night. It made h
er want to be looked at that way.
It made her want Lord Dowerdon to look at her that way.
She wondered if the chained woman could feel the man’s eyes upon her. Surely she must. Hettie could practically feel it, and he wasn’t even aware she was present. What did it feel like to be the recipient of the full focus of an unknown man’s lust? He might be anyone. Friend. Lover. Foe. Stranger.
Heat flooded Hettie from head to toe with particular intensity in her middle regions. Any measure of composure she had regained vanished. Utterly.
The man took the lady’s chains in hand and drew her hands up. Holding them at shoulder height, he touched one finger to her bonds, then drew it up the inside of her wrist to her elbow. A shudder rocked her shoulders, whether from fear or passion Hettie could not tell. Then he reached for a breast and grabbed it like a piece of fruit, squeezing and hefting its weight in his palm before he closed his hand over her like a man milking a cow’s teat. He pulled hard enough to make her gasp. Hettie saw his teeth glint white in the firelight when he smiled. Then he did the same to her other breast, handling her very roughly indeed. And all the while, the woman kept her head bowed and made not one sound after that first gasp.
He touched her everywhere, measuring, weighing the charms of her body like so much produce in the marketplace, his eyes judging her worth. He filled his hands with her buttocks, jiggling and squeezing, and finally giving her a sound swat on the rump. Then he prodded her to her feet whereupon he took up a bar resting at the base of the pole, kicked her feet apart, and clamped it to the shackles on her ankles, now clearly visible in the torchlight, as were those on her wrists. Then he stood behind her and bent her over at the waist, leaving her to hang with her arms supported by the chains, and with her sex tipped back for his delectation. Tilting his head this way and that, he admired her submissive pose from every angle.
More than she had ever wanted anything in her life, Hettie wanted to be looked at like that. Naked. Completely exposed. Offering herself to be used. Though she sat absolutely still, her womb ached with longing, and her sex wept for the opportunity to be in that woman’s place.
Enjoy A Lady Bound now.
EXCERPT: The Demon’s Deception
By Lisa Alder
“He's dead.” Barbas, the Demon of Healing, leaned wearily against the frigid stone of the dungeon wall. The last prisoner with a known tie to the Fae had succumbed to the effects of their torture, even with Barbas's constant monitoring. For the Gods' sake, their goal had not been to kill him. They'd tried repeatedly to get him to reveal his knowledge, his contact within the Fae, and his contact within the Castle. Anything. But in truth, he probably had been bespelled. Damned, fucking Fae.
“This is not good.” Prince Gaap frowned at the body. The prisoner had been their final link to discovering the traitor who lived amongst the Demons in the castle.
Both Barbas and Gaap held still in stunned disbelief.
Barbas wanted to kill the prisoner all over again for dying.
The stupid sod had been their last hope. With the final prisoner gone there was only one action left. And Barbas knew what he had to do. But he'd been hoping that his final solution wouldn't be necessary.
Tasked with finding the traitor amongst the Demons, he had skulked, lingered, and listened to the gossip in the village. Mined whispers for leads. He had had sex with humans from farms, taverns, all walks of life. He'd questioned those who had been closest to the Fae--minions, humans bespelled by the Fae magick--and he was no closer to identifying the traitor than he had been a month ago.
He did not like failure.
His stomach roiled. As far as he could determine, there was only one option left. “We need to approach this from another angle,” Barbas declared. Reluctantly. Dammit, he did not want to do this, but he could not fathom any other way.
“You have been unable to identify the traitor.” Prince Gaap flicked a hand at the guards and they carried the human's remains away.
Neither spoke as they contemplated what to do next. A muffled giggle penetrated the somber silence. A heated growl and the clank of shackles as they hit the wall echoed in the dark chamber. The grunts and slap of energetic sex between three people bounced around what should have been a dank, dark place. Moans, low and heated, permeated even the thick stone walls. Low feminine sighs and deep masculine groans filled the silent air. Zepar, Thalia, and Leraye were at it again.
Gaap placed a finger over his lips and they tiptoed past the three lovers, each restrained in some way. Not one single inhabitant of the Demon Castle had missed the trio frolicking and sexing in some out of the way or very surprising location. And this was not the first occasion that Barbas had caught them in the dungeons, shackled and blindfolded. He couldn't imagine allowing anyone to restrain him in such a manner.
Once they reached the Prince Gaap's chamber, Barbas said baldly, “I want to infiltrate the Fae.”
Prince Gaap started to argue and Barbas squelched the wish to acceed to the Prince. He didn't want to get anywhere near the Fae. But it was unavoidable.
“How?” Prince Gaap bit out.
“I don't know yet.” A lie. He could conceal his Demon side. Even if the thought of doing so made him break into a sweat and long for the glow of the moon.
“But you believe you are capable of infiltrating our enemy?” Gaap asked slowly and assessed Barbas with a speculative look.
Gaap couldn't possibly know his secret. He'd never told a single soul, Demon or otherwise, the truth. His deception was absolute.
Masters of Mercy Vol. 1 - 4 (BDSM erotica) Page 13
