The Accidental Mistress - new snippet

Lizzie Aitchison's lover, multimillionaire John Smith, has decided to buy a house in the area. He takes her along to view a likely property... and as usual, John being John, matters take a sensual turn...

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Unedited excerpt...

Dalethwaite was just as magical as it had been at the time of the garden party. It might be Victorian, but there was nothing dark or oppressively cluttered about it. She remembered it as being surprisingly light and airy, and redecoration in the interim had only increased that effect. The décor was contemporary, but it didn’t argue with the Nineteenth Century structure; the two had a harmonious conversation across the years, and the estate agent’s online brochure hadn’t done the renovations justice, by a long shot. Sunshine poured in through windows wherever she turned, and the ambience had a soft quality too, a liveable, easy warmth, despite the luxurious elegance of many of the rooms.

‘I’ve been here before,’ Lizzie finally told John as they entered the gorgeous orangery, a giant conservatory space that was at least as big as the entire ground floor of the house at St Patrick’s Road, ‘There was a big garden party, and I was doing a bit of on and off waitressing for a catering company at the time. It was like being in fairyland, and the guests were so glam in full evening wear and everything.’

‘Now you’re the one who’s glamorous,’ said John, flinging himself down on one of two low cream-coloured settees that were set facing each other, ‘you look amazingly at home in this room. Like a film star. To the manor born.’

‘Not really…’

‘Yes, really. Don’t be stubborn. False modesty doesn’t become you, Lizzie.’ The words were stern, but his expression was sultry and indulgent. ‘Now come over here and stop drifting around like a supermodel. I had a hellish time in New York, and all I really want to do is touch you.’ He paused, his brilliant blue eyes taking her in from top to toe, making her feel as if she’d been swept by a ray of heat. ‘And to fuck you in every goddam room in this place. And believe me, there are a lot of rooms.’ He held out his hand, palm up, but it was more a gesture of command than supplication.

Her feet frozen to the spot, Lizzie said, ‘But we’re only viewing the house, John. Someone could come at any minute.’ Her heart raced.

‘I certainly hope so,’ he replied, with a soft, fruity laugh, ‘that’s my intention at the very least. And as I’m feeling generous, I don’t mind if it’s you. Despite the fact I’ve got the most savage hard-on.’

Oh, he certainly had!

Even though she probably looked at John’s groin far more often than was decent, Lizzie hadn’t ogled his crotch for at least several minutes. Surely he hadn’t had that enormous erection a few minutes ago? Although maybe he had, and his jacket had hidden it?

Either way, he was sporting the most sumptuous bulge now.

‘Lizzie.’ Her name was softly spoken; a tantalising warning.

She walked towards him, helpless to resist. He really was the most crazy man. They were only viewing the house, and anyone really could arrive at any moment. Yet still she knew she’d let him do anything to her, anything at all.

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The Accidental Mistress will be published by Black Lace in August 2013

More information here

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Meet the Marquis...

CHANCE OF A LIFETIME - Portia Da Costa

When Rose takes a temporary job at a dilapidated stately home, while waiting to pursue her dream career in the Caribbean, she doesn't expect to get involved with her mysterious, attractive and rather kinky boss... The Marquis.

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At seven o’clock, I’m staring at the door to the little sitting room. It was half in my mind not to turn up. To try and pretend that what happened beyond that slab of oak never happened. But doing that would be to miss… well… miss the chance of a lifetime. I might never meet a man again who’s into the things that the Marquis is, and I might go through life having perfectly ordinary, perfectly satisfactory sex, but still wondering what it would have been like to try the extraordinary kind with spanking and strange mind-games.

I knock as firmly as I can on the door, and immediately that deep, clear voice calls out “Enter!” from within. Crikey, he already sounds like a stern schoolmaster summoning his tardy pupil.

I tremble.

But there’s nothing fearsome or intimidating when I step into the room and close the door behind me. It’s cozy and welcoming, with a nice little fire burning in the grate to ward off the unseasonal damp chill. The thick curtains are drawn, and soft lamps emit a friendly golden glow that flatters the fine old furniture and makes it gleam.

It flatters the Marquis too, not that he needs it. He looks stunning.

He’s in all in black again, as ever. Tight black jeans embrace his long legs, and the splendid lean musculature of his thighs and his backside. As he rises to his feet from the depths of one of the armchairs, I imagine, for a fleeting second, spanking him!

Blood fills my cheeks in a raging blush, and I falter and hang back. A huge waft of guilt rushes through me at even thinking that. I open my mouth, but I can’t speak, and he smiles at me.

“Come on in, Rose. Would you like a drink?” I notice that he has a glass with something clear and icy set on a little table beside his chair. Vodka? Water? Gin? Who knows...

“Um... er... yes.” I flick my glance to the sideboard and a few bottles, but I can’t seem to compute what’s there so I just say, “Whatever you’re having... please.

“Good choice... and do sit down.” He gesture like Renaissance courtier towards a free chair by the fire, and watches me as I make my way there, terrified I’ll trip or something, despite the fact my heels aren’t high or spindly.

I take my seat, and watch him mix my drink, swiftly combining clear spirit, ice, mixer and a sliver of lemon. He prepares the concoction perfectly, despite the fact that he’s studying me intently almost all the time.

I’ve dressed carefully.

Jeans are awkward to wriggle out of, especially if you’ve got a curvy bottom like mine, so I’ve chosen a soft, full summer skirt that almost sweeps the floor. A mini skirt would be too obvious, not lady-like and as I’m here with an aristocrat, I’m compelled to make an effort to be worthy of him.

On my top half I’ve got a little buttoned camisole, pink to match the skirt, and a light cotton cardigan over that, to keep out the chills. My shoes are low-heeled and quite pretty, and underneath I’m wearing my best and sexiest underwear.

I aim to please...

The Marquis comes across and hands me my drink, then retreats to his own chair. There’s a moment of silence, tense for me, but apparently totally relaxed for him, and I snatch the opportunity to feast my eyes on his gorgeousness.

He sits so elegantly, even though he’s totally at ease. Long legs out in front of him, booted feet crossed.

Boots?

Hell, yes! They do something visceral inside me. They make me shudder and my sex clench and seem to twist and flutter with their connotations of masterfulness. They’re old and soft and well polished and not all that tall, but all the same, I almost feel faint just looking at them.

And I get mostly the same feeling from the rest of him.

He’s got the most exquisite black silk shirt on, full of sleeve and so fluid it seems to float on his body. The collar’s fastened up for the moment, but I have the most intense urge to crawl on my hands and knees across the room and rip it open so I can kiss his throat and his chest and suck his nipples.

And not just his nipples.

His thick black hair is shiny with a fresh washed satin-sheen and his fine boned face has the delicious gleam of a recent shave.

Bless him, he’s made as much of an effort for me as I have for him. Another reason to worship and adore him.

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CHANCE OF A LIFETIME is part of the 12 Shades of Surrender promotion by Mills and Boon.

Available from eHarlequin, Mills & Boon, Books on Board,Fictionwise, All Romance eBooks, Diesel eBook Store, Amazon Kindle UK, Amazon Kindle and Sony Ebook Store.

FORBIDDEN TREASURES - excerpt

Blurb:

When Alice Porter finds a chest full of vintage curiosa at an antique market, she little realizes how her discovery of the forgotten treasures of an Edwardian disciplinarian will change her life. The sexy hoard includes a punishment ledger and a well used rattan cane, and the bygone items intrigue her husband Julian too.

Sharing and experimenting with the writings and the wicked implement, the lovers begin a voyage of forbidden sensuality that shocks and thrills them both, revealing dark secrets from Julian's past and bringing the two of them closer together than they've ever been before.



Excerpt:

You have done this before, haven't you?

For a moment, Alice was distracted, unfocused. Who was the woman? Who had he punished?

Then Julian stroked the inside of her wrist with a fingertip, making everything right again, with a secret touch hidden in the game. He was with her now. He'd always be with her. This was what mattered, not the past.

Feeling as ungainly and gangling as a naughty, coltish girl, Alice did her best to obey him, almost tripping over the tangled clothing around her ankles. When she did get settled, she had the most precarious fear that she was going to topple head first off her husband's lap and onto the carpet. But instead, he held her firmly with a securing hand on her back, whilst presumably he studied the contours of her bottom.

"Ready then?" Both voice and fingertips were gentle as they cruised her bare skin. His exploration made her quiver again. "Do you understand why I have to do this?"

It was as if they were performing a ritual, each in their role, each serious, but also humming with desire. Alice nodded, and muttered a "yes", while her heart pounded and her mind filling with a very complex understanding indeed, a comprehension that went far beyond the simple shadow-play of punishment for misbehavior.

"Ouch!" she yelped as the first smack fell on her right buttock, and all her preconceptions about what it might have felt like came crashing down with Julian's hand.

Bloody hell, it hurts. It really hurts. I thought it was just going to feel like a gentle tap.

Moisture filled her eyes as a second, even crisper blow landed. Involuntarily, she groaned, squirming and shuffling on Julian's lap.

Dear God, how it smarted. How it stung. As more smacks descended in a fast and steady rhythm, it didn't take long before all of Alice's cheeks were flaming. Her dangling face was pink as a peony with a blend of embarrassment and excitement, and her bottom was so hot and throbbing that she was sure its entire surface was red and blotchy.

How have you learnt to do this? You must have picked it up somewhere. Don't tell me it's pure instinct. You know this.

The thoughts bobbed in her brain as her husband belabored her with skill and vigor. He was patterning the spanks around her cheeks, forming meticulous, overlapping circles and leaving no inch of flesh free of their fiery coverage. It was a master class and when her buttocks were pink and roasted, he tipped her body further forward and then aimed a volley of intensive wallops at the delicate under-hang; a zone so tender and thin‑skinned that it made her squeal in a way that she would have found hilarious in some other circumstance.

"Now, now, my dearest," Julian said, his voice sounding like the very essence of Edwardian authority as he continued to spank and spank and spank, "Don't make such a fuss. This is good for you, you know."


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