It’s WIP Wednesday once again. Recently, you’ve seen snippets from my second western historical, my upcoming Iliad Lane novel (LOVE UNTAMED), and the fun bondage-y erom novella based off the Mad Hatter character from “Once Upon A Time.” But while I’d be happy to post more from any of those works…
I want to change it up a bit.
This is from a historical erom novel entitled THE CORRUPT COMTE. If you ask Ruthie Knox, she will tell you I’ve been denying her for foreverzomgwhydoyouhateme — or something to that effect. The thing is, she’s only read the first 60% or so: I lost the back half of the novel when I moved in December (different from this current move last month…methinks I need to stop moving) and ended up almost entirely rewriting the whole thing, and have only just finished tweaking and revising. But now it’s done, and I have a working Internet connection, and I can send it to her…just as soon as I’m not at work. And maybe as soon as I’m certain it doesn’t completely blow (I’m weirdly self-conscious about this book). Hrrrm.
Speaking of blowing — heh. Today’s excerpt is dirty. NSFW dirty. So NSFW dirty that it should probably bear the acronym PMBIFISNSFW (Panties May Burst Into Flame It’s So Not Safe For Work). Click below to read. And if you hate it…don’t tell me.
Tell Ruthie Knox.
He needed her to keep up the pretense of pursuing Sabien, she realized. She didn’t know why, and at this very moment didn’t care. Adrenaline coursed through her veins as she studied his handsome face and cruel mouth, and she felt the press of his aura surround her where she perched at his feet on the stool—domineering, possessive, the promise of good things to come. She would let him have this small victory, even as her heart and mind shifted in tandem and set a course toward the comte.
He might be titled, and a liar, and there was so much about him that remained a mystery, but he wanted her. Stutter and all. That was more than any man had done in the past, and goodness knows the slick heat gathering between her bare thighs told her how much she desired him, too.
“T-tell me, then. If I were not innocent, what would I d-do?”
His answer was immediate. “Suck me.”
She frowned, confused. “What?”
He gestured toward his lap, all insolent grace. “Take out my cock and put it in your mouth.” His hips lifted slightly, as if restless, and that was when she saw the significant bulge disturbing the flat front of his pale gray trousers.
Her jaw slackened, and her eyes widened in shock. He couldn’t possibly mean… But his unyielding features told her that yes, he expected her to do exactly as he said. As much as the idea perturbed her, excited heat gathered low in her abdomen, and her mouth watered. She squirmed uncomfortably on the stool, not daring enough to actually reach out and touch him, though she wanted to.
He saw her hesitation, and she saw that he enjoyed it. His blue-green gaze warmed considerably, and his hips shifted again, subtly. “Remember what I told you—cede your control to me, and you will be rewarded.”
For the life of her, Claudia couldn’t even begin to comprehend how taking the comte’s most private parts in her mouth would reward her, but cede she would. With a nod, she settled her palms atop his thighs and leaned forward.
The muscles beneath her hands tensed. A quick peek at his face revealed that his mouth had fallen open, his breathing hastening between his parted lips, and a faint flush colored his prominent cheekbones. She was not powerless in this, she realized: He wanted her to do this for him, badly.
She slid her hands up the lengths of his thighs, slowly, not wanting to miss a single sensation. The fine weave of his trousers decreed his obvious wealth, but it was the muscles beneath that stirred her greed. When her fingers fell into the dips between hipbone and groin, she curled her fingers into the loosened fabric. Her thumbs began to move inward, toward that rude bulge, pulling the placket taut around it.
She leaned forward, wanting a better look at him as she tentatively plucked open his trouser fall. The winter wool fell away with a careful tug, revealing the tented linen smallclothes beneath. She heard the comte suck in a harsh breath as she stroked a fingertip down the still-hidden hardness of him.
That hardness jumped, pulsing.
Instead of startling her, the sight made her smile, and she scooted closer on the stool. The front slit in his smallclothes intrigued her, and the last of her hesitation disappeared as she reached a hand inside and grasped him, firmly.
He shifted in his seat.
As she leaned forward again, she lost her balance, toppling off her stool and onto her knees. More importantly, her face fell squarely into his lap.
His cock scalded her cheek and mouth where she landed.
She attempted to mumble an apology at the same time he fisted a hand in her loosened hair and tilted her head to the side. Her lower lip caught on the silky flesh, hot and smooth, but she didn’t relinquish her grip on him.
She glanced up at him questioningly. His fingers clenched tighter. “Go on, kitten. Suck me.” The words came out low and gravelly.
Her breath caught in her chest, but her tongue darted out, dragged along his length. He smelled musky but clean, as if he’d bathed tonight, and she settled closer. Her free hand rested atop one of his strong thighs, while the hand holding him so intimately drew his erection away from his abdomen and nearer to her open lips. Her grip lowered, pulling back the thin skin covering the head of his cock.
When her nose nuzzled the satiny, reddened head, he used his hold on her hair to lift her mouth. His eyes gleamed gold in the firelight, and she shivered in response. He was like a tiger, she thought, magical and cunning and utterly exotic.
And just as much a king. “Suck it,” he commanded, and her lips surrounded him.