Duty Bound: Bound and Tied, Book 2 Page 11

As Jake’s fingers closed around his cock, Zach shut his eyes. “We really need to get to Idaho Springs and find us some women.”

  “We will. Soon enough. But for now…” Jake smoothed his hand over the length of Zach’s shaft.

  She vows to protect her heart…until love burns away her resistance.

  The Courtesan’s Bed

  © 2010 Sandrine O’Shea

  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.

  Enjoy the following excerpt for The Courtesan’s Bed:

  “What would be your terms?”

  He threw out a monthly stipend that made her swallow hard, added a generous clothing allowance that surpassed that of a certain profligate duchess of his acquaintance, and assured her he was known to most of the jewelers in London.

  She smiled seductively. “And what are your requirements in the boudoir, monsieur?”

  He returned her smile. “As often as you like, and I promise you will want me often. But if there are days you wish a respite, that will be fine too.”

  A faint flush warmed her cheeks. “You’re very confident.”

  “It’s one of my finer attributes.”

  She smiled, obviously amused.

  “So,” he said, staring deeply into those expressive eyes, “do we have an agreement?”

  “There is much to consider.”

  He let his gaze rove over her face like a slow, soft caress, settling on her delectable mouth. “Perhaps a kiss would convince you of the seriousness of my intentions.”

  She stared boldly at his lips and patted the place next to her on the settee. “By all means, monsieur.”

  He sat down, angling his body so he faced her, and draped one arm across the back of the settee just behind her shoulders. She leaned toward him, willingly turning her head. He raised his hand and gently traced the line of her jaw with his fingertips. Her skin was as dewy and silken as a rose petal in the morning. When he reached her chin, he tilted her head and leaned over to reach her voluptuous, inviting mouth with his own.

  He kissed her lightly at first, a mere pressing of the lips to both soothe and arouse her.

  She responded with a sigh and the parting of her soft, sweet lips for an open-mouthed kiss that tasted faintly of brandy. Then he deepened his kiss, sliding his tongue into her mouth. She moaned softly and stroked his tongue with her own, sending a tremor of desire rocking through his body, straight to his prick.

  She raised her hand to his cheek, and he thought he’d melt at her tender touch. He slipped his hand around her waist and drew her even closer, needing to feel her warmth, pleased that he’d caused such a response.

  When they parted, breathless and panting, Regina purred, “You kiss very well, Clarridge.”

  Then she undid the top three buttons of her gown in blatant invitation.

  He stayed her hand. “That’s not necessary.” At least, not yet.

  Her expression turned perplexed. “But I thought you wished to please me.”

  “I do.”

  “Well, it would please me if you’d touch my breasts.”

  Ah, so she was testing him to see how far he’d go. He hadn’t expected her to move so fast, or talk so frankly, but she was experienced and accustomed to being intimate with strangers without preamble or coyness.

  He grinned. “Touching your beautiful breasts would certainly please me.”

  He caressed the long column of her ivory neck, causing her to tremble beneath his fingers. But rather than undoing the rest of the buttons, parting the fine silk fabric and burrowing for the Promised Land of her bare breasts, he practiced the art of gradual arousal, which he knew from long experience that most women appreciated. He placed his hand on her left breast, feeling its soft fullness beneath the layer of cloth.

  Regina closed her eyes with a gentle sigh, and her head fell back against his arm.

  Darius squeezed gently, and her nipple hardened provocatively. Regina’s lips parted. He teased the rigid nubbin with his thumb, and then moved to the other breast for the same tender ministrations.

  “Do you like the way I touch you?” He certainly relished his own reaction to touching her, the warm fullness that swelled his cock and made his heart race with dizzying speed.

  She caught her breath and murmured a ragged, “Oh, yes,” when he raked her tender earlobe with his teeth.

  He worked her nipple harder with his thumb, and when she made a satisfied whimper at the abrading fabric, he swiftly undid the buttons so he could slip his hand beneath the silk and touch her warm, bare flesh, which overflowed his hand as he cupped it possessively.

  Her sharp intake of breath at his intimate touch heightened his own arousal.

  She was like absinthe, one color until another ingredient transformed it. And he just wanted to drink and drink and drink until he went mad.

  He caught the straining bud between his thumb and forefinger, and squeezed gently. She cried out. He smiled, pleased that he could coax such a reaction out of her.

  He increased the intensity of his caresses while trying to maintain his own fragile self-control, moving from one tempting breast to the other. He felt a heady sense of triumph and power when her groans grew louder.

  For one second he wondered if her response was genuine or the pretense of a calculating courtesan seeking to give her protector his money’s worth.

  Her eyes flew open. They were drowsy with passion and delight that couldn’t be faked. She pouted prettily. “You are cruel to torment me so.”

  “How ungentlemanly of me. I shall have to remedy that failure.”

  He opened the bodice to bare her breasts. They were perfect, round and heavy, full enough for him to bury his face in their ivory softness and lose himself in their sweet scent. He thought both his cock and his head would explode.

  “Your beauty leaves me breathless.” His exhaling breath warmed her large, rosy nipples. He teased them with the tip of his tongue, wetting first one, and then the other. He lifted his gaze to Regina’s face, pleased to see her closed eyes, an expression of transported bliss giving her ivory complexion a luminous glow. He had demolished her reservations and her misgivings with his persistence.

  He waited until her breathing grew more uneven and impatient before he grasped the breast to steady it, took the inviting puckered tip into his mouth and sucked, gently at first, then harder, with the eagerness of a starving man too long denied.

  Régine’s high-pitched cry filled the drawing room, and she arched her back, offering herself to him in an ageless gesture of female surrender.

  She tangled her fingers in his hair and held him in place, demanding his touch.

  Now he pleasured her right breast with his eager mouth and the other moist nipple with his fingers, driving her wild with abandon. If she reacted so strongly to just having her breasts caressed, he was willing to bet the earth would shud
der and shake when he brought her to orgasm.

  He reluctantly raised his head, gently stroking her to ease the abruptness of his withdrawal.

  Regina’s eyes flew open. “Why did you stop?”

  He drew the bodice together to cover her. “Because if I keep going, I’ll make love to you right here, right now.”

  She looked confused. “But I thought that’s what you wanted.”

  “Not for our first time.”

  She raised her brows. “You surprise me. You are so different from the other men I’ve known.”

  He smiled and drew her hand to his lips, lightly brushing her knuckles. “You’ll find me to be a very surprising fellow.”

  She buttoned her bodice with crisp efficiency. “I’m looking forward to discovering all your secrets.”

  Love lifted her heart to the skies. The rest of her needed a little more help.

  Flavia’s Flying Corset

  © 2010 Sahara Kelly

  A Silk, Steel and Steam Story

  When Flavia Winters enters the aerial carriage that will convey her across churning waters to the magnificent, isolated castle of Dr. Harland Gennaro, it’s not a polite social call. Nor does she hope to re-ignite their former passion. Oh, no. She’s convinced the renowned scientist stole something of value from her lab, and she plans to get it back by whatever means necessary.

  Once Harland blinks away the temporary blindness caused by Flavia’s clever magnesium beads, he finds himself tied to a chair as she insists he return a vital ingredient for some impossibility called “Icarus”. Then she demonstrates with the last of her compound, and all he can think about is convincing her he’s not the guilty party—and getting into the lab with her to recreate her gravity-defying wonder.

  Side by side, they burn the midnight oil making new discoveries, and re-learning old ones about each other. As an ocean storm rises with their desire, though, skullduggery is afoot. A thief watches and waits for the moment they make a discovery that could be their last.

  Warning: Reading this book may stimulate an interest in the principles of physics, aerodynamics and the science of sexual arousal. The author is not responsible for any injury incurred while investigating all three topics simultaneously.

  Enjoy the following excerpt for Flavia’s Flying Corset:

  Harland prided himself on the efficiency of his unique home, in fact he’d put several years worth of thought into the additional design elements. Thus he was able to provide a suitable meal to start the day. At least he thought it was suitable. Tea, of course. Toast, not too badly burned. Some marmalade Mountjoy had recommended and he’d approved. Of course, he had a suspicion that Mountjoy was walking out with the marmalade maker, but that was his business, not Harland’s.

  The butter was cool, as was the milk for tea. Harland’s icebox system was one of his many accomplishments. The use of the largest local resource—the ocean and its salty water—combined with an ingenious extraction and circulation pump, well it worked quite well. He was proud of it.

  Setting the dishes on the table in front of the windows, he wondered what Flavia would think about it. Then she walked in and he forgot everything he’d planned on asking her.

  Glowing skin, hair soft and falling down a little here and there—she was a vision from his dreams. Her smile lit a fire in his breeches, an occurrence that seemed to be part of his every waking minute since she’d stepped onto Roman Rock and back into his life. Even in the more casual attire she’d chosen, she was the answer to his every sensual dream.

  He had a very difficult time not going to her, stripping her free of those clothes and taking her all over again on the Axminster rug. Perhaps from behind again, her buttocks white and round, begging for the touch of his hand, his mouth, his teeth—

  “Oh, lovely. Tea. Just what I need.”

  Well, it wasn’t exactly a rousing endorsement for sex on the carpet. He gave himself a mental smack and just smiled. “I’m glad. We need to discuss some matters.”

  “Yes. The plan.” She seated herself and glanced out of the window. “It’s very thick, isn’t it? The fog?”

  He didn’t even bother looking, just set the toast rack near enough for her to reach and popped a small spoon into the marmalade jar. “Not unusual for this time of year. It may clear later, if the wind picks up a bit.”

  Such mundane conversation, he mused. As if they hadn’t been naked and intimate such a short time ago.

  “So tell me.” She bit down on a slice of toast. “You want to recreate Icarus.”

  He nodded. “I do. That’s the first part of the plan. Simultaneously, I want to spread the word of what we’re doing.”

  She tilted her head and watched him as he poured the tea. “How? Why?”

  “The how is easy.” He gestured to the communications machine. “I’ll simply send a message to a few friends that you’ve honored me with your presence and that we’re working together on an exciting project you’ve developed.”

  “And rumors will spread.”

  “I hope so.” He nodded again. “The only person whose attention will be thoroughly intrigued should be the person who knows what you’ve been creating. Anybody else will simply think it’s just another scientific collaboration and not devote much interest to it.”

  “It’s bait, isn’t it? Designed to lure the thief here perhaps?”

  Approvingly, Harland smiled. “Yes. You’re quick to grasp the implications. Whoever stole your Icarus sample will wonder if we’re making more.”

  She held up a hand. “There’s more to it than that. Whoever stole it has a piece roughly an ounce or so in size. He’ll try and duplicate it, of course. And that will be a futile endeavor.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I can’t remember the exact measurements. My discovery of Icarus was—how can I put this—serendipitous?”

  “You mean it was an accident?”

  She sighed deeply. “Yes. Completely by accident. I wasn’t paying much attention since my attempts to create a wax additive weren’t paying off. I recall stirring in a little cedarwood essence to add a fragrance. Then I wiped off my worktable and probably got a little more dust and scrapings into it than I’d originally planned. I did sneeze too.”

  “Oh good God. Don’t tell me that nasal effluvia is essential.”

  She grinned. “No. But my sneeze lifted some vaporous dust, drifted it around and into the mixing dish I was using at the time. All these circumstances combined together and when I looked back at my compound, it was congealing into the form you saw.” She rubbed a hand over her nose in frustration at the memories. “Even then, it wasn’t until I had it in my hand…I was staring at it and wondering what on earth had gone wrong. I sighed and—”

  “It elevated.”

  “It did.” She shrugged. “I can’t begin to describe my surprise.”

  “The exhalations. The contents of your breath. Gases caused a reaction.”

  “That was my assumption, yes.”

  “Good. I probably have the ingredients we’ll need.” He nearly rubbed his hands together in enthusiasm, but managed to restrain the impulse.

  “Don’t get too excited. I’ve tried for so long to duplicate it. I’ve had no success whatsoever.” Her mouth turned down.

  “Never underestimate the power of two heads, which is, as they like to say, sometimes better than one.”

  She flicked him a mildly irritated glance over the rim of her teacup. “I made the damn stuff. If I can’t do it again, I’m not sure how having you hovering over me is going to help matters.”

  “Testy.” He grinned.

  “Sorry, didn’t mean to be. But you’ve arrived at the point where my frustration knows no bounds.”

  “We’ll take it step by step. I’ll sneeze if I have to.”

  “Gracious. Why didn’t I think of that?” She raised an eyebrow dryly.

  “Trust me, Flavia. Between the two of us, we should be able to succeed.”

  “And if we do, then what?�
��

  “Then…then we hope the lure of more Icarus, or perhaps the idea of a written formula, will be sufficient to entice your thief.”