New Release!

Sunday, September 9, 2012

A Two Part Kiss Scene ~ Erotic Romance, BDSM, Rubenesque BBW for 18+ Only

 
 
A Two Part Snog
This Week Part One, Next Week Part Two.
 
 
 
 
By reading any further, you are stating that you are 18 years of age, or over.
If you are under the age of 18, it is necessary to exit this site.
Copyright © Natasha Blackthorne, 2012
All Rights Reserved, Total-E-Ntwined Limited, T/A Total-E-Bound.
 
 
Book one in the Regency Risks Series

He is her most dangerous temptation, the only man she has ever trusted and now he is demanding her submission. Dare she take the risk?

Emotionally scarred in the horrific accident that took her husband’s life, Lady Cranfield is imprisoned by her lingering terror of horses and carriages. Lady Cranfield longed to be closer to the fascinating Earl of Ruel. She sensed intuitively that he could teach her how to overcome the terrors that held her in bondage.

And now she’s willing to risk almost anything-her reputation, even her virtue-to find out. But what he proposes startles her.

When the shy, studious and socially awkward young widow approached him, Ruel instantly sensed she would be the sweetest, most submissive experience of a lifetime-if only he can gain her total and complete trust. He makes her a non-negotiable offer. His help in return for her submission and obedience.

But Lady Cranfield grew up neglected by her ducal parents, raised by servants and then later ignored by her handsome, charming husband. She’s learnt to protect her heart at all costs and she trusts no one but herself.

How can the jaded Earl of Ruel break through her self-protective defences and show her how to love when he has spent his lifetime avoiding that tender trap?


Reader Advisory: This is a work of historical fiction, it is not meant to be an accurate portrayal of or guide to how people recover from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. It is also not meant to be an accurate portrayal of modern BDSM or D/s lifestyles.

This is a work of Erotic Historical Romance and it uses the graphic language and situations of Erotic Romance.
 




Excerpt From: A Measured Risk

At the evening meal, she picked at her food and dared occasional glances at Ruel. Well, she certainly wasn’t going to find her answers in a man like him. To think she might have made the most mistaken judgement of her life. She could only pray now that he wouldn’t share her secrets. She’d die if smug Francesca and her snickering, simpleton friends knew.

She retreated into the only defence she knew—the dignified withdrawal behind an icy façade that had sustained her through her two Seasons in Mayfair.

She refused to even so much as look directly at Ruel, pretending he did not exist for her.

But avoiding him completely proved impossible. Over the next few days, fat raindrops steadily pelted the windows of Whitecross Hall while lightning flashed and thunder rumbled intermittently. Prevented from hunting, the gentlemen lazed about, filling the interminable hours with their pent-up petulance.

Ruel seemed to be everywhere she went. On the afternoon of the third day, in the study, she came upon him with Lady Scott—or Cherry, if one preferred that vulgar nickname. Yet how apt an epithet it was for the inane woman.

They were seated on the plush crimson divan where Anne liked to read. Cherry bore a very fetching rose-pink bow on the neckline of her bodice and his lordship was bent, in the act of untying it with his strong, white teeth.

Anne dropped the book she was returning. It hit the wooden floor with a thump, so hard that she was sure the spine must have broken.

The couple looked up at her. Cherry’s eyes were witless—and wide pools of watery blue, her insipid pink mouth formed in a silly O, her dark chestnut ringlets quivered. Not a very mature reaction, for Lady Scott had to be forty if she was a day—and not wearing those years all that gracefully if truth were told.

Anne couldn’t be less than honest.

She flashed her gaze to the lady’s erstwhile lover. Ruel’s large, long fingered hands still touched the lady’s half-bare, creamy shoulders. He returned Anne’s gaze calmly, his fierce visage closed and cold.

The heat of raw anger unfroze Anne’s mind. Of course it was anger. It certainly wasn’t anything as unworthy as jealousy. She didn’t care how many silly women he took to his bed, just so long as he didn’t foul her favourite crimson divan in the process!

She clamped her gaping mouth shut; shot him a glare. His jaw tightened almost imperceptibly and something flared in his eyes. Vexation? Yes, it must be. Vexation at her, because she’d intruded on his afternoon tryst. Goodness, he looked so intimidating. Her insides quaked and she wanted to turn and run.

But Whitecross Hall had been her home. She’d been its countess and cared for the needs of its people. Now she was made to feel like an interloper. And she had accepted it all as fate…up until now. This was intolerable.

Ruel would not chase her out of her favourite haunt.

She stiffened her spine and walked calmly to the bookshelves; took her time surveying the books, making a new selection. All the while she felt his gaze burning into her.

Swiftly rustling muslin crackled in the chamber. Then the door closed, quite loudly. Lady Scott had left. Anne still sensed Ruel’s presence. She grasped the first book her hand fell on, pulled it from the shelf, then walked towards the wingchair by the window.

Before she reached her destination, he came to her side, placed his hand on her arm. She jerked her head over her shoulder to face him. His eyes were open and warm, bluer than early evening.

“Your ladybird has flown.” She forced the words past the constriction in her throat.

He loosened his hold, caressing her arm below her small, puffed sleeve, his fingers tracing the bare flesh. Little shocks of fire licked up her arm.

She wouldn’t weaken to him this time. She made her voice hard and cold. “Hadn’t you better go and catch her?”

“Forget her.” His smooth voice lulled her as he cupped her cheek with one hand. His eyes, burning with desire, ignited flames deep inside her. Her limbs went weak.

He bent close.

Did he actually intend to kiss her? After that disgusting little scene?

Indignation burned through her. Yet her body thrummed with awareness of him—his scent, his strength. Her body wanted to let him take whatever he willed. Her throat went dry and her legs shook from pure fear. Not fear of him but fear of herself and what she would allow—what she would do—if something didn’t happen to break this spell.

Her heart hammered against her chest wall. God, she must do something. Anything—

She drew back her hand and arced it forward and up with all her might. She made sharp, stinging, shocking contact with his cheek. It was with enough force that his head reeled a bit. Not much, though.

The crack echoed around the chamber.

She cried out in disbelief and dismay at her thoughtless action and took several steps back. Her hand stung as if pierced by a hundred nettles and she pressed it to her skirt, seeking the coolness of the dark plum silk.

She felt very lost and confused with herself. She just didn’t go around acting on impulse and emotion. She’d never struck anyone in her whole life.

This was what he did to her. He turned her into a stranger to herself—a passionate, violent stranger. He filled her with madness. But what price would she pay for such madness?

Trembling in the wake of her emotions, she dared to look at him.

A vicious red mark rose on his cheek. He touched it.

She held her breath, waiting for what he would do now.
 
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6 comments:

  1. :D Hello Victoria, thank you for visiting. :)

    ReplyDelete
  2. sounds really great!! It is in my TBR!

    ReplyDelete
  3. You're drawing in the net, girl... Love the set up for all kinds of sexy stuff..

    ReplyDelete
  4. I will definitely be picking this up. I found this excerpt from a guest post you did on another site. It looks great.

    ReplyDelete

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