Caresses flowed from her naturally. The soft stroke of his cheek with the back of her hand, his lower lip with the pad of her thumb, were as inevitable as sunlight, or rain. The passage of her hands down his neck to his chest left a river of heat in their wake. Sensitized to the lightest contact, even her easing of the evening coat and waistcoat off his shoulders and releasing his suspenders caused spasms of desire. When she found his nipples through the thin lawn shirt, made a sound of pleasure at the back of her throat as they hardened beneath her fingers, it was as intimate as a kiss.
Pushing him back against the wall, her fingers cupped the length of his erection. The heat of her palm penetrated through the fabric. Arching into her hand, desperate for more, he moaned.
Claire laughed then. A sultry, siren’s laugh, filled with joy, captivating. He reached for her, wanting to touch her as intimately as she touched him, but she grasped his hands, raising them to place a soft kiss on each before tugging them down to his sides.
“Tonight, just let me touch you, Xavier.”
The muscles in his legs quivered, threatening to give way, forcing him to brace against the wall, fingers convulsively curled for purchase.
She pulled his shirt free and pushed it up, bending to place a swirling, open-mouthed kiss on the shuddering skin of his stomach. Sublime sensation, almost painful in its intensity, had him arcing away from her lips. The motion served only to draw her closer. Holding his shirt above her head, she plunged the wet heat of her tongue into his navel, trailed down to outline the top of his breeches. And her hand, oh God, her hand, measured and pressed and squeezed his prick, taking him to the edge of sanity.
He wanted her hands on his naked flesh, the craving for it pulsing through every vein. Pushing away from the wall, he pulled off both his cravat and shirt, tearing the latter’s cuff in his haste.
Claire stood, her face flushed and intent and, as though hearing his desire, used both hands to open his breeches. Teasingly, slowly, she pushed them down his hips, hesitating for an eon, until finally, with a sudden rapid motion of her wrists, they fell to the floor.
For a moment, she just looked at his straining erection, and he began to tremble, a pulse travelling the length of his engorged flesh. Claire made a soft sound in the back of her throat and licked her lips. His trembles turned to shudders, and Xavier thought he would explode right then and there.
A wicked little smile playing about her lips, she whispered, “How long has it been, since you have been with a woman?”
“Almost two years.”
The smile widened into a grin. “Ah, Xavier, I will make it up to you for the lack.” She grew serious for a moment, her gaze locking with his as she asked, “Will you trust me? Let me show you prolonging the pleasure can only make it better?” She rested her hands on his stomach, fingers lightly stroking, down and around, making his skin shiver as though each separate inch had developed a thousand more nerve endings. “There may come a moment when you want me to stop what I am doing, when all you want is for me to let you have your climax, but bear it, just this once. If it is not to your taste, we will never do it again. But tonight…” she rested her head on his chest, fitting into his arms as though made just for them, “…tonight I want to have you, in my mouth, for as long as possible.”
Those softly spoken words drove a shock of desire through every vein and sinew in his body.
“Do what you will, Claire.” He could hardly speak through the need clawing at his chest. “I surrender to your desires.”
The shudder wracking her at his words took Claire by surprise. Power, potent and sweet, leapt in her belly and increased her own arousal. All she had learned, all she had experienced, seemed suddenly to have meaning. If for this one night she could give this one man pleasure, everything, everything, would be worthwhile.
Sinking to her knees, Claire reached for Xavier’s straining cock, marvelling at its perfection, lightly skimming her fingers over the velvet hardness. It pointed straight up towards his belly, the veins standing out in bold relief, the end mushroomed into a darker knob, and the sensitive little tendon just below the slit begged for special attention. His ballocks, already tight, waited to pump his release.
It had been a long time since she had felt like this, eager and needy, yet also wanting to give. For two years she had been without a man, two years during which fantasies had sustained her. But dreams, no matter how graphic they might be, could not compare with reality.
She lowered her head, hands caressing up and down his thighs, savouring the sensation of firm musculature, hair-roughened skin so completely different from her own. He was trembling, and the sensation seemed to travel through his flesh and into hers, until they were joined by the same aching desire.
Lowering her head further, she touched his testicles lightly, using just the tip of her tongue, running it from side to side, barely letting him feel the contact. Gently she increasing the pressure until, suddenly, she curled her entire tongue under the sac to explore the soft, firm skin behind. As he gasped, she withdrew slowly, letting his flesh slide off her tongue.
Looking up, she shuddered at the raw passion on his face. His eyes were closed and his neck arched back. Strong hands clutched the wall as though for support. Her heart ached for him, this passionate man whose passion had been squelched until he doubted its veracity. She bent back to her task, determined to make this a night he would remember until his dying day.
Sucking slowly on one side of his sac brought a heartfelt groan, and the sound drove her on. She let it almost slip free before increasing the pressure and drawing it back in, swirling her tongue over the tight flesh constantly. An abrupt switch to the other side, and he jerked in reaction. Reaching up to take his cock in her right hand, she found the tip wet, moaned into his flesh as she spread the moisture and used it to lubricate a slow, steady pumping. His ballocks contracted even more and she raised herself up onto her toes, releasing him from her hand, from her mouth, waiting without touching.
Secrets can destroy you—and the one you love most.
Hareton Hall
© 2010 Lynne Connolly
Richard and Rose, Book 6
As Richard returns with Rose to her childhood home of Darkwater for two weddings, romance is in the air—but so is trouble. It begins with Rose’s stolen watch. Tensions rise when they learn their old adversaries, the Drurys, have taken a house nearby. A series of attacks on those they love, plus a rise in smuggling activity, only add to the threat of violence.
Then illness strikes at the worst possible time, threatening everyone in the district—especially the children. Questions abound: Was the infection deliberate? Is someone striking at Richard through Rose, or are their enemies targeting Rose for information she possesses?
Richard calls on his resources, public and private, to counter an enemy that threatens to destroy his beloved Rose. Rose is no helpless victim, however, and refuses to let anyone—even Richard—take away her independence. She finds ways to fight that aren’t in his armoury. Whether he likes it or not…
Warning: When Richard uses a topaz necklace to give Rose hot shivers, it might give you ideas, so keep a man handy to experiment on. But you can’t have Richard.
Enjoy the following excerpt for Hareton Hall:
“Would you like me to get Nichols back for you?” he murmured. “Or will you accept me as your lady’s maid?”
“Do you need to ask?”
He laughed and kissed me, his tongue caressing my mouth with a gentle insistence I could never tire of.
He unhooked my gown at the front, pushed it off my shoulders and let the garment fall to the ground, leaving me in my stomacher, stays and petticoats. The stomacher was easily got rid of, being attached to the stays by a few pins only. It fell to the floor with a heavy thump, as the topaz brooches were still fastened to it. He reached round to the back and began to loosen my stay laces, taking the opportunity of our proximity to kiss me again, sweet kisses over my cheeks and throat, pausing to
nip at my earlobe. While he was performing these actions for me, I wasn’t idle.
I undid the buttons on his waistcoat, feeling the hard, nubby surface of its heavy embroidery, then I slid my hands under it and felt his body beneath the fine linen of his shirt. He chuckled softly, and I felt my stays give way. The drawstring of my outer petticoat proved no obstacle to his questing, skilled fingers and my under petticoat and side hoops swiftly followed.
“Why do you like to undress me? I could come to you in my night rail.” I ran my hands up his back, feeling the hard, lean muscle respond to my touch.
“Because, my sweet delight, it’s unwrapping the best gift in the world. Because it prolongs the moment in a delicious way. I love to touch you, to hold you, and this way I can touch every part of you.” He kissed me and then bent his head to kiss my throat, and to push away the loosened drawstring of my shift, exposing my breasts to his caresses. I pressed myself against him, felt the buckles holding his stock at the back of his neck and unfastened them.
Then I put my hand up to undo the topaz necklace I still wore, but he lifted his hand and put it over mine. “Leave it. It looks lovely against your skin. Let me look.”
I let it be, instead pulling at the drawstring of my remaining petticoat and my pockets until they fell away. He removed his shirt in one smooth movement, so I could see and touch his chest and his back. The touch of my bare skin against his made me tingle, drew my nipples into peaks. The drawstring at the neck of my shift was now fully open, so I let it go all the way down my body to pool at my feet.
I was naked now, except for my stockings, and I knelt to help him with his breeches, unfastening the glittering buckles at his knee, the buttons at the sides, and the buttons holding the garment up at his waist, beginning to understand his meaning about unwrapping.
I touched, caressed, kissed him, and heard his sigh and murmur when I stroked the swollen, silken flesh before me. I bent my head, took him into my mouth, and ran my tongue around the tip.
He gasped and murmured, “Oh Rose, oh sweetheart,” and he touched me, digging his fingers into my hair when I deepened the caress. I loved the feeling of control doing this gave to me and I felt him moisten, tasted the pearl of liquid he granted me and knew he wouldn’t last too long if I did this. I wanted him inside me so I released him with some reluctance, watching the glistening member strain as I drew back.
I sat on the floor, on top of the discarded heap of clothes, and slowly removed my shoes and stockings, drawing out the moment, displaying myself to him. He watched me, before he put his hands under my armpits and pulled me to my feet.
His eyes, usually such a gemlike sapphire, had softened to the blue of the sky just after dawn, and the smile playing about his mouth was the one only I ever saw. “You’re a witch,” he whispered, as he sought my mouth with his. He thrust his tongue into my mouth, sensuously exploring, sending flutters of sensation through my whole body.
Then he took my hand and led me to the bed. I lay down and held out my arms to him. He hardly paused, only looking at me, with that smile curving his lips. “The best gift in the world.”
He kissed me, touched me, took my nipples into his mouth and teased them into pinpoint hardness with his tongue.
I caressed him, his firm, satiny skin heating under my hands, and kissed him again as he found his way home, sliding his shaft along my innermost folds, then deep inside my body. I’d never yet been disappointed by Richard’s lovemaking, never been less than drowsily blissful when we had done. His long years of practice must have helped, but now that he was all mine he honed his skills, tailoring them to my pleasure, for my delight.
He kissed me, then drove in, to withdraw and plunge again, moving a little to find the most sensitive parts of me, then lifted his head and gazed down at me, pausing in his rhythmic movements. “How lucky can one man be?”
I smiled up at him. He moved again and laughed softly when I caught my lower lip between my teeth and made a small, wordless sound. “Oh, my love, that’s it, that’s it.”
The Courtesan’s Bed
Sandrine O’Shea
She vows to protect her heart…until love burns away her resistance.
Régine Laflamme rules as the Queen of Fire, the Paris demimonde’s most notorious and accomplished courtesan. Wealthy men shower her with riches and vie to become her next conquest. Respectable women shun her. Other courtesans envy her.
No one knows she was once an innocent young governess, ruined and turned out by a cruel lord. And now, years later, she spies her seducer’s son—a man who never answered her frantic pleas for help.
Darius, Earl of Clarridge, has never stopped searching for the woman who haunts him. He doesn’t expect her to believe that her letters never reached him. No, he will regain her trust in a way she understands—by promising to give her more pleasure than she’s ever known.
In spite of her misgivings, Régine is intrigued and takes Darius up on his boast. To her surprise, he conquers not only her body, but captures her very heart.
Yet beyond the haven of her boudoir, two men scheme to possess her for their own. When one of them kidnaps and enslaves her, she clings desperately to a new hope—that this time Darius will find her before it’s too late.
Warning: This novel contains scenes of graphic sex, bondage, S/M, anal pleasuring of the hero, and a two-women-one-man threesome in a brothel.
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This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Samhain Publishing, Ltd.
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The Courtesan’s Bed
Copyright © 2010 by Sandrine O’Shea
ISBN: 978-1-60928-197-7
Edited by Sasha Knight
Cover by Natalie Winters
All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
First Samhain Publishing, Ltd. electronic publication: September 2010
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