Waltz of Seduction: A Steamy Regency Novella

by Natasha Blackthorne

  “You do?” She sounded so shocked that he winced. Had his love really been so elusive to her?

  “Yes, I am utterly besotted. I always have been. You are my own beautiful Sara.”

  “You aren’t just being kind?”

  “No, I am not just being kind.” He pulled away enough to look at her. “For God’s sake, my love, have I ever been capable of that kind of polite dishonesty?”

  “I suppose not.”

  “Then believe me.” He kissed her forehead, finding a place somewhere in between the welts.

  She relaxed against him. He caressed her back, shoulders and neck for long moments. Gradually the hives began to fade.

  * * * * *

  The ball had been a sad crush, a smashing success. And their waltz had been perfect. Her eyes glued to his, she hadn’t missed one step. Now they were alone in the sitting room between their chambers. Sara was exhausted but in the delicious kind of way one is after such an enjoyable evening.

  Colin embraced her. “I dismissed Flora.”

  “But I have to undress.” She giggled. Whether from fatigue or too many cups of champagne punch, she wasn’t sure.

  “I shall undress you and tuck you in bed.”

  “Will you stay with me?”

  He kissed the top of her head. “All night. Tonight and every night hereafter.”

  She turned in his arms and waited while he unfastened the long row of buttons. Before long, all her clothes were folded over a wingback chair and she stood naked before him. It was still a little hard to be so bold but she was gradually becoming accustomed.

  He pulled her close. He was clad in only a dark blue silk banyan and she could feel his erection pressing her belly.

  He caressed her neck. “You must be very tired. Let’s find you a nightdress and go to sleep.”

  But she wasn’t ready for sleep. First, there was something she wanted to do. Something special that she’d been saving for tonight. For him. Priscilla and Fran had described what to do. Her heart pounded in fear she’d muck it up and make a fool of herself. Like everything, there was always a first time. She took a deep breath then sank to her knees.

  “Sara?”

  She looked up at him. “Let me please you.”

  He touched her face. “You don’t have to do this.”

  She turned, took his hand and kissed the broad palm. “I want to.”

  “But you are my wife.”

  “In our chambers, never again treat me as a wife.” She leaned up slightly, untied his belt then pushed his banyan aside, uncovering his nakedness. She splayed her hand over the fine, dark hair that covered his hard, flat stomach. His muscles tensed under her touch. She pressed her cheek to his stomach and closed her eyes. “Treat me only as a lover.”

  His hand caressed her hair. “My God, I love so you much.”

  “I love you too.” She moved away and reached for his cock. It was erect, huge and throbbing, velvet over steel in her hand. She took it into her hands and it pulsed. A thrill chased through her. This handsome man, this man who was her husband, wanted her, truly wanted her and no one else. It gave her a heady sense of power. She stroked her hand up and down on the shaft. He jerked in her hand.

  She glanced up, questioning.

  He nodded. “That’s good.”

  She stroked him again and he groaned. “Really good.”

  A drop of creamy fluid beaded on the head and she bent to lick it off, delighting in the salty tanginess. He caught his breath and his obvious pleasure gave her courage. She took the head into her mouth, moving her tongue and sucking slightly.

  His hands threaded into her hair. “Yes, like that, just like that.”

  She took him a bit deeper, his every throb and pulse telling her how much he enjoyed her attentions. Growing more confident, she took him deeper, making sure to swallow.

  “Christ, Sara.” His hands twisted in her hair. His hips rocked slightly.

  She pressed her cheek to his stomach and closed her eyes

  She sensed him holding back and she was thankful for it. Later, when she was more accomplished, they could negotiate something wilder than this. For now, the novelty, the newness was excitement enough. For them both. Surges quaked through his cock. Her heartbeat sped up. It was going to happen. She was making him come. A fierce sense of pride welled up in her.

  He touched her face.

  “Here, darling, stop.” At his urgent command, she stopped her back-and-forth motions and he pulled out.

  She cried out in surprise. Warm wetness jetted against her breast. Her eyes popped open and she looked down to see his cock near her breasts, releasing his come all over her breasts.

  He dropped to his knees beside her, panting. He seemed transfixed by the sight of his semen glistening on her. “God, Sara, you’re beautiful like that.” He groaned softly. “You can never know how badly I’ve wanted to see you like that.”

  Pure happiness stilled her tongue. She could only giggle.

  “I love you so much.” He kissed her lightly. “My wife, my friend and my lover.

  The End

  Dear Readers:

  Thank you for your purchase of this ebook. You are my greatest source of support and encouragement. You make it all worthwhile.

  If you would like to give me further support, I am always grateful for word of mouth recommendations and reviews. Reviews need not be overly detailed; one or two lines can be wonderful.

  About the Author

  I have always been a daydreamer who told myself stories of love and romance set in other times and places for my own pleasure. Eventually my story worlds became so real, they demanded to be brought out of my imagination and onto the page. It gives me great joy to finally share them with you. I hope you enjoy my story worlds.

  I am married to my own hero. I have a B.A. in History and I love to read both romance and scholarly history, and I listen to a variety of music from classical to reggae. But mostly I am hard at work writing my next story.

  I welcome comments from readers. You can find me online on:

  Facebook

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  Email: N.blackthorne@yahoo.com

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  Would you like to read more of my stories? Please enjoy the following excerpt:

  A Measured Risk

  Copyright © 2013 by Natasha Blackthorne

  She backed all the way into the bookcase.

  “Why did you run away?” His deep voice settled in her belly, rich and warm, like crème brûlée on a cold winter’s night.

  “Because I wanted you to follow.” She tried to sound sophisticated and seductive, but her voice choked off on the last word.

  Ruel placed his hand on the shelf above her head and blocked her path to the door. His tall, solidly muscled body leaned over her, surrounding her with the sumptuous, sinful scents of tobacco, Scotch whisky and something masculine and undeniably dangerous. A slow, sensual smile stretched his hard mouth.

  He appeared different. Softer. More approachable.

  At the change, her insides seemed to flip over.

  “Well, sweeting, getting us off alone was a very inspired idea.” He touched one of her fallen ringlets. “I am bored to distraction with endless talk of hunting and fencing.”

  As he slowly wrapped the curl around two fingers, he brushed her collarbone. Fiery sparks tingled down her spine, so intense that she shivered and her nipples beaded, pressing against her stays. By some instinct she hadn’t even known she possessed, she arched her back, presenting herself for his assessment.

  His eyes shone so vividly blue against his bronzed face that they resembled cornflowers. She swallowed tightly and wished for a long drink of claret. This more personal side of him suddenly seemed far more hazardous than his usually fierce exterior.

  Well, no matter. There was nothing to fear. She would allow only as much contact as need be to get to know him a little. Since being torn from her lonely yet secure life in Ireland and thrust into Society at age sixteen, she’d spen
t her time allowing people only as near as was comfortable. She was an expert at emotional evasion.

  It should be easy to regain her control.

  But now, as rays of the late-afternoon sun played over his pale hair, turning it the colour of winter wheat, all her carefully rehearsed words flew from her mind.

  Say something—anything—else he will think you’re a bird-wit.

  An intimate smile, one that invited her to play, tugged at his mouth.

  “In a situation like this, alone with a gentleman, it’s perfectly normal for a lady to feel some apprehension.” His hushed voice, barely audible above the piano and boisterous singing from down the corridor, accentuated their isolation. His gaze became so piercing that she had to lower her eyes.

  He brushed his fingertips over her cheek. “She will invariably ask herself if he will try to kiss her.”

  She jerked her eyes back to his face. God, he couldn’t mean to—not yet, surely… Peculiar, heated chills swept over her. She tried to take a step back, but found her bottom flush against the bookshelf.

  He leaned closer; so close that his Scotch-scented breath tickled her face. “And just in case you are wondering, Lady Cranfield—the answer is most assuredly yes.”

  She should demand that he put his arm down so she could pass by and leave. She really should. But she couldn’t stop looking at his hard mouth and wondering what it would feel like upon hers. He was so close to her that his breath blew on her lips. If she moved but a fraction, she’d be kissing him.

  Kissing him.

  Dear God. Her breaths began to come very fast and short. Her throat went tight with a suppressed moan.

  His eyes burnt as brightly as aquamarines. He looked so fierce. If he kissed her, if he dared… Oh God, it would be so harsh. That cruel-looking mouth could express itself no other way.

  Excitement rushed through her, sending tingles to every point of her body, even her toes.

  But no, he wouldn’t. Not yet.

  He kept leaning closer. He didn’t close his eyes. Instead, he seemed to focus all the harder upon her.

  Her heart pounding, unable to move away, she braced herself for his assault.

  His lips brushed hers, barely. A gossamer caress.

  He lifted his head.

  It was done.

  Ended.

  And it hadn’t even begun.

  He held her chin, appearing so cool, so unaffected. His kiss had seemed to sear her. An urge to put her fingers to her lips arose in her. She resisted it, for it would give away too much of how she was affected.

  Never show your feelings.

  He traced his thumb along her lower lip, slowly, deliberately, as he studied her with eyes that now glittered with something powerful and predatory. Heat pooled in her pelvis, low and spreading even lower.

  She went weak all over, as if she’d lain in a sunny window seat for too long. Her knees almost buckled. She forced them to lock. To be strong.

  It should not have affected her so profoundly. It had been just a peck—not a true kiss at all. William had poured out all of his skill upon her and hadn’t garnered even a tenth of the reaction in her that this man’s peck had.

  Ruel traced her jaw line with his fingertips. Unthinkingly, she leaned in to his touch.

  “Of course, once he has kissed her, then it’s his turn to wonder…” His voice sounded unnaturally loud in her ears. “How will she respond? Will she withdraw, or can he ignite some hidden fire?”

  She sensed that he was toying with her. She didn’t understand flirtation—why had she imagined she could carry off this ruse? Was he making advances in order to have a laugh with Francesca and her simpering friends later? Hurt blossomed in her chest. She resented him for that. She ought to feel indignant, superior, uncaring—anything but hurt.

  “Please don’t make sport of me.”

  She cringed. Was that quavering, pleading voice really hers?

  An infinitesimal pause. “Now, why on earth would I do such a thing?” His voice was as smooth as velvet.

  “To please your vanity,” she replied, trying to regain her wits.

  “Here.” He placed her hand to his chest. The contours of his muscles were hard, powerfully developed. Even more so than she’d expected. His body heat radiated through the satin and, beneath her hand, his heart’s beat was rapid and strong.

  “Is that vanity?” He put a finger under her chin, giving her no choice but to face him. “Is it?” He gentled his grip.

  The warmth in his voice settled over her like luscious hot chocolate. Melting her insides to quivering burgoo, rendering her speechless, unable to move.

  “My dear, lovely Lady Cranfield, I am going kiss you again.”