Kate Pearce Bundle: Simply Sexual, Simply Sinful & Simply Shameless

Book 0: House of Pleasure

by Kate Pearce

Genres: Erotic & Steamy Romance

Synopsis

Kate Pearce Bundle: Simply Sexual, Simply Sinful & Simply Shameless Simply Sexual Sexual Satisfaction Ten years as a sex slave in a Turkish brothel left Lord Valentin Sokorvsky with an insatiable appetite for sex. Now the time has come for him to marry, but finding a woman who can satisfy his lustful desires proves a challenge. . .until he meets Sara and all he can think about is having her lie under his rock-hard body, begging him to taste and touch her. . . Sensual Seduction Sara Harrison knows she should be shocked and scandalized by Lord Sokorvsky's bold advances, but instead she is secretly aroused by this sensual, seductive man. For beneath her calm and composed manner is a wanton woman who longs for a man's intimate caress. She is most willing to be educated in the art of sensuality, to receive and give pleasure and to succumb to the wild desire that knows no limits. . . Simply Sinful A Wicked Proposition. . . Forced to wed at a young age, Abigail Beecham is tired of living in a sexless marriage. She longs to succumb to the delicious pleasures of pure carnal lust that she has only read about. And if her husband can't satisfy her erotic needs, she's ready to find a man who can. . . A Wild Past. . . Peter Howard is accustomed to unusual sexual requests. His ten years as a slave in a Turkish brothel left him skilled in sensual delights. But there is little that actually arouses him--until he meets Abigail. Now he longs to tease and torment her until she cries out with pleasure. Maybe then he'll finally experience that exquisite feeling of bliss he so desperately desires. . . Simply Shameless Every Desire Explored One forbidden weekend years ago, Helene Delornay found herself stranded with a total stranger. Bold, virile, and well-schooled in the erotic arts, Philip Ross opened Helene's eyes to a world of sexual delight she never knew existed. Now proprietress of London's most exclusive house of pleasure, Helene never forgot the carnal bliss she shared with Philip--and she never found another man who could satisfy the insatiable cravings he awakened within her. . . Every Fantasy Fulfilled When Philip suddenly returns to Helene's life, the physical attraction they share is far too strong for either to deny. Now as they explore their fantasies and take them beyond the limit, Helene discovers that her feelings for Philip run far deeper than that of just a lover. . .

Release date: February 1, 2012

Publisher: Kensington

Print pages: 256

Sample

Southampton, England 1815

Sara pressed her fingers to her mouth to stop from gasping as she watched the man and woman writhe together on the tangled bedsheets. Daisy’s plump thighs were locked around the hips of the man who pushed relentlessly inside her. The violent rhythm of his thrusts made the iron bedstead creak as Daisy moaned and cried out his name.

Sara knew she should move away from the half-opened door. But she couldn’t take her gaze away from the frenzied activity on the bed. Her skin prickled, and her heart thumped hard against her breasts.

When Daisy screeched and convulsed as if she were suffering a fit, a small sound escaped Sara’s lips. To her horror, the man on top of Daisy reared back as though he’d heard something. He turned his head, and his eyes locked with hers. Sara spun away, gathered her shawl around her shoulders, and stumbled back along the corridor. She had her hand on the landing door when footsteps behind her made her pause.

“Did you enjoy that?”

Lord Valentin Sokorvsky’s amused voice halted Sara’s hurried retreat. Reluctantly she turned to face him. He strolled toward her, tucking his white shirt into his unfastened breeches. His discarded coat, waistcoat, and cravat hung over his arm. A thin glow of perspiration covered his tanned skin, a testament to his recent exertions.

Sara drew herself up to her full height. “The question of enjoyment did not arise, my lord. I merely confirmed my suspicions that you are not a fit mate for my youngest sister.”

Lord Valentin was close enough now for Sara to stare into his violet eyes. He was the most beautiful man she had ever seen. His body was as graceful as a Greek sculpture, and he moved like a trained dancer. Although she mistrusted him, she yearned to reach out and stroke his lush lower lip just to see if he was real. His hair was a rich chestnut brown, held back from his face with a black silk ribbon. An unfashionable style, but it suited him.

He arched one eyebrow. Every movement he made was so polished, she suspected he practiced each one in the mirror until he perfected it. His open-necked shirt revealed half a bronzed coin strung on a strand of leather and hinted at the thickness of the hair on his chest.

“Men have…needs, Miss Harrison. I’m sure your sister is aware of that.”

As he moved closer, Sara tried to take shallow breaths. His citrus scent was underscored by another more powerful and elusive smell that she realized must be sex. She’d never imagined lovemaking had a particular scent. She’d always thought procreation would be a quiet orderly affair in the privacy of a marriage bed, not the primitive, noisy, exuberant mating she’d just witnessed.

“My sister is a lady, Lord Sokorvsky. What would she know of men’s desires?”

“Enough to know that a man looks for heirs and obedience from his wife and pleasure from his mistress.”

She felt a rush of anger on her sister’s behalf. “Perhaps she deserves more. Personally, I cannot think of anything worse than being trapped in a marriage like that.”

His extraordinary eyes sparked with interest as he appeared to notice her nightclothes and bare feet for the first time. Sara edged back toward the door. He angled his body to block her exit.

“Is that why you frequent the servants’ wing in the dead of night? Have you decided to risk all for the love of a common man?”

Sara blushed and clutched her shawl tightly to her breasts. “I came to see if what my maid told me was true.”

“Ah.” He glanced back down the corridor. “Daisy is your maid?” He swept her an elegant bow. “Consider me well and truly compromised. What do you intend to do? Insist I marry her? Go and tell tales to your father?”

She glared at him. How could she tell her father that the man he regarded as a protégé was a licentious rake? And then there was the matter of Lord Sokorvsky’s immense wealth. Her father’s seafaring enterprises had not faired well in recent years.

She licked her lips. His interested gaze followed the movement of her tongue. “My father thinks very highly of you. He was delighted when you offered to marry one of his daughters.”

He leaned his shoulder against the wall and considered her, his expression serious. “I owe your father my life. I would marry all three of you if such a thing were allowed in this country.”

“Fortunately for you, it is not,” Sara snapped. His face resumed the lazy, taunting expression she had come to dread. “As to my purpose, I thought to appeal to your better nature. I wanted to ask you not to dishonor my sister by taking a mistress after you wed and to remain true to your vows.”

He stared at her for a long moment and then began to laugh. “You expect me to remain faithful to your sister forever?” His eyes darkened to reveal a hint of steel. “In return for what?”

“I won’t tell my father about your dishonorable behavior tonight. He would be so disappointed in you.”

His smile disappeared. He stepped so close his booted feet nudged Sara’s bare toes. “That’s blackmail. And there’s no way in hell you would ever know whether I kept my word or not.”

Sara managed a small triumphant smile. “You do not keep your promises then? You are a man without honor?”

He put his fingers under her chin and jerked her head up to meet his gaze. She found it difficult to breathe as she gazed into his amazing eyes. Why hadn’t she realized that beneath his exquisite exterior lay a deadly iron will?

“I can assure you, I keep my promises.”

Sara found her voice. “Charlotte is only seventeen. She knows little of the world. I am only trying to protect her.”

He released her chin and slid his fingers down the side of her throat to her shoulder. To her relief, his air of contained violence dissipated.

“Why didn’t your parents put you forward to marry me? You are the oldest, are you not?”

She glanced pointedly at his hand, which still rested on her shoulder. “I’m twenty-six. I had my chance to catch a husband. I had a Season in London and failed to capitalize on it.”

He curled a lock of her black hair around his finger. She shivered. His rapt expression intensified.

“Charlotte is the most beautiful and biddable of my sisters. She deserves a chance to become a rich man’s wife.”

His soft laugh startled her, and his warm breath fanned her neck. “Like me, you mean?”

Sara stared boldly into his eyes. “Yes, although…” She frowned, distracted by his nearness. “Emily might be a better match for you. She is more impressed by wealth and status than Charlotte.”

“You possess something neither of your sisters has.”

Sara bit her lip. “You don’t need to remind me. Apparently I am impulsive and too direct for most men’s taste.”

He tugged lightly on the curl of her hair. “Not all men. I have been known to admire a woman with drive and determination.”

She lifted her gaze and met his eyes. Something urgent sparked between them. She fought a desire to lean closer and rub her cheek against his muscular chest. “I think I will make a far better spinster aunt than a wife. At least I will be able to be myself.”

His lazy smile was as intimate as a caress. “But what about the joys of the marriage bed? Might you not regret sampling those?”

She gave a disdainful sniff. “If what I have just seen is an example of those ‘joys,’ perhaps I am well rid of them.”

His fingers tightened in her hair. “You didn’t enjoy watching me fuck your maid?”

Sara gaped at him.

His smile widened. He extended his index finger and gently closed her mouth. “Not only are you a prude, Miss Harrison, but you are also a liar.”

Heat flooded her cheeks. Sara wanted to cross her arms over her breasts. She trembled when he stepped back and studied her.

“Your skin is flushed, and I can see your nipples through your nightgown. If I slid my hand between your legs, I wager you’d be wet and ready for me.”

Sara’s fingers twitched in an instinctive impulse to slap his handsome face. She waited for a rush of anger to fuel her courage, but nothing happened. Only a strange sense of waiting, of tension, of need—as if her body knew something her mind hadn’t yet understood. She let him look at her, tempted to take his hand and press it to her breast. Somehow she knew he would assuage the pulsing ache that flooded her senses.

As if he’d read her thoughts, he reached out and circled the tight bud of her nipple. Sara closed her eyes as a pang of need shot straight to her womb.

“Sara….”

His low voice broke the spell. She covered herself with her shawl and backed away. As soon as she managed to wrench the door open, she ran. His laughter pursued her down the stairwell.



Valentin stared after Sara Harrison as his shaft thickened and grew against his unbuttoned breeches. He absentmindedly set himself to rights and considered her reaction to him. She needed a man inside her whether she realized it or not. Perhaps he should reconsider his plan to marry the young and oh-so-biddable Charlotte.

His smile faded as he followed Sara down the stairs. John Harrison had a special bond with his eldest daughter. Knowing Valentin’s sordid history, would John allow him to marry his favorite child? It was interesting that she hadn’t been offered to him as a potential bride to begin with.

He strolled down one flight of stairs and made his way back along the darkened corridor to his bedroom. There was no sign of Sara.

Valentin surveyed his empty bed and imagined Sara lying naked in the center, her long black hair spread on the pillows, her arms open wide to welcome him. He frowned as his cock throbbed with need. Sara Harrison would not be a complacent wife. To lay the ghosts of his past, he needed to settle down with a conventional woman who would present him with children and leave him to his own devices.

Before leaving town, he’d spent an uproarious evening with his friends and current mistress, composing a list of the qualities a man required in a society wife. One of her sisters would definitely be a better choice. He suspected Sara would be a challenge.

Her frank curiosity stirred his senses. He’d wanted to part her lips and take her mouth to see how she tasted. He’d forgotten how erotic a first kiss could be, having moved onto more interesting territory a long time ago. Her innocence and underlying sensuality deserved to be explored. Wasn’t that what he truly craved?

He stripped off his clothes and let them drop to the floor. The meager fire had gone out, and coldness crept through the ill-fitting windows and door. At least he had a few days’ grace before he needed to make his decision. John Harrison was not due to return to his family until Friday night. Valentin climbed into bed. His brief, interrupted tryst with the enthusiastic Daisy had done little to slake his desire.

Valentin tried to ignore the unpleasant smell of damp and mildewed sheets as he closed his fist around his erection and stroked himself toward a climax. Imagining it was Sara who touched him made him want to come quickly. He didn’t allow her image to destroy the sensual buildup of sexual anticipation that burned through his aroused body.

He pictured her startled face as she’d watched him fuck Daisy. Had she wanted to touch him herself? The thought made him shudder. His body jerked as he climaxed. He closed his eyes, and a vision of Sara’s passionate face flooded his senses.

His last thought as sleep claimed him was of her coming under him as he took his release deep inside her again and again.

Sara glanced over her shoulder as Charlotte’s girlish giggle rang out again. Whatever Lord Sokorvsky had said was obviously highly amusing. She resisted an urge to frown at the engrossed couple. She’d asked him to pay more attention to Charlotte and had no right to feel disappointed because he’d heeded her words. In truth, she should be delighted. She took a savage swipe at a buttercup in the grass with her parasol and decapitated it.

Daisy, her maid, had been ecstatic about Lord Sokorvsky’s prowess in bed. Apparently he was the best lover Daisy had ever had. She’d gone on and on about the size of his cock and exactly what he could do with it until Sara begged her to stop.

Surely a true gentleman would make love to a woman with more gentleness and civility? Lord Sokorvsky reminded her of a swaggering pirate. Even his skin was tanned like a commoner. And the way he’d rutted with Daisy…She ignored the subtle throb of desire she experienced low in her stomach every time she pictured that rude coupling.

She sighed as she reckoned the distance to the ruins of the medieval castle on the hilltop above them. Her mother had arranged the outing in the hopes of furthering Charlotte’s acquaintance with Lord Sokorvsky. To Sara’s surprise, her plan appeared to have worked.

She lifted the hem of her olive-green calico skirt and set off up the last part of the hill. Someone touched her elbow. She turned to find Lord Sokorvsky at her side.

“Good afternoon, Miss Harrison. Are you enjoying the view?”

Sara favored him with a cool smile, aware of the heat of his gloved fingers on her bare skin. “Good afternoon, my lord. The view was delightful until you obscured it. Please feel free to find another, less able lady to assist up the hill.”

His fingers tightened on her arm. “But I wish to walk with you. You left me in a devil of a quandary last night.”

She shot him a suspicious glance. “I am glad you have reconsidered your options and that I was able to guide you.”

He looked politely confused and then gave her a slow smile that screamed danger. “I’m not talking about your little moral lecture but something far more important that kept me up,” he glanced down at his breeches, “and awake for most of the night.”

Sara kept her gaze on the ragged yellow grass in front of her. Did he think she was naive enough to ask him to explain himself?

“You are far too modest, my dear. Would you not like to know what I am referring to?”

Sara counted each torturous step and tried to control her ragged breathing. Her temper smoldered as the slope grew steeper.

“No.”

“I was thinking about your breasts.” He glanced at her averted profile. “If I might be even more specific, I spent several hours wondering what color your nipples are. Some women’s nipples match the color of their lips, others are a surprise. Now, your lips are a deep rose pink. Are your nipples the same shade?”

To her annoyance, her nipples hardened into two tight buds as if they enjoyed being discussed. She continued to slog up the hill, refusing to join in such an insulting conversation. An urge to shove her outrageous companion in the chest and watch him roll merrily down the hill threatened to overcome her.

Lord Sokorvsky laughed softly as they reached the outer ring of fallen stones. “Silent, my dear Miss Harrison? That seems so unlike you. Perhaps you are breathless after our steep climb.”

She stepped back and planted the tip of her parasol in the center of his chest. She met his amused violet eyes, a challenge in her gaze. Before she could apply any real force, Lord Sokorvsky brought his hand up and yanked the parasol from her grasp.

“Oh, no, you don’t.”

Deprived of her weapon, Sara cried out as she lost her footing and fell forward. He caught her in his arms and deliberately pulled her flush to his chest. The strength of his muscled grip surprised her. His heart thumped against her cheek as she struggled to right herself.

“Are you all right, Sara?”

Charlotte’s anxious question made Sara jerk herself free. Lord Sokorvsky’s triumphant grin disappeared as he turned to speak to her sister.

“All is well, Miss Charlotte. Your dear sister felt unwell after her exertions.” He bowed to Sara, a picture of concern, and placed his hand over his heart. “I am simply glad that I was available to help a beautiful damsel in distress.”

Sara straightened her bonnet. “You, sir, are no knight,” she hissed as soon as her sister’s back was turned.

His eyebrow rose in a slow arc. “I never said I was. And if you choose to challenge me, don’t expect to be treated like a lady.”

She swung on her heel and stomped off across the grassy mound of the ruined bailey to find better company. This was the second time Lord Sokorvsky had bested her in a fight. Should she ignore him for the duration of his visit and hope he made the right decision about Charlotte or continue to try to influence him? She couldn’t decide.

She glanced sideways at him and found he was still watching her. His gaze settled on her breasts. Blast the man, all she could think about was him coupling with Daisy. He winked. Sara resisted an urge to button her pelisse.

A dense heat shuddered through her belly. He unsettled her in ways she didn’t quite understand. Part of her, the wild, dangerous part she tried to suppress, was drawn to him; the rest wanted to run back to the safety of her boring life and hide. With all the determination she could muster, she began to talk to her sister Emily.



Sara spared a smile for her dinner companion as she rose from the table at her mother’s signal. Sir Rodney Foster was an entertaining and clever man. He treated her like an intelligent woman. It was a shame he was already married. She stifled a yawn as her mother shepherded the ladies into the drawing room. Thick red velvet curtains blotted out all the natural light and created shadows in the overfurnished, fussy room.

Tea awaited them, with the prospect of a little musical entertainment and a lot of idle gossip. Sara often wondered what it would be like to stay with the men and discuss matters of real importance over a glass of port. As she matured, she’d begun to understand why men avoided coming in to see the ladies until they were foxed.

Sometimes she felt so trapped she wanted to run out of the stuffy drawing room and never return. She often dreamed that her mother and sisters stood over her, their faces full of love as they slowly suffocated her beneath a growing pile of petticoats. Despite her considerable abilities, she had begun to understand that her choices had narrowed to spinsterhood or marriage.

She glanced across at Charlotte. Her sister had appeared in her room again last night, her face flooded with tears. Charlotte claimed Lord Sokorvsky frightened her and that he made her feel stupid. If it wasn’t for her mother’s objections, Sara knew Charlotte would already be married to her childhood sweetheart, the local curate, rather than chasing a man of Lord Sokorvsky’s exalted rank.

Charlotte gave her a watery smile. Sara felt a familiar surge of exasperated affection. Why couldn’t she simply say no to their mother and do what she wanted instead? Surely Lord Sokorvsky wouldn’t want a wife who’d been forced into marrying him?

After an hour of insufferable boredom, Sara was even glad to see Lord Sokorvsky enter the drawing room. He was dressed in a simple blue coat and white breeches that clung to his muscled thighs. His thick, dark hair was confined at the nape of his neck with a narrow black ribbon.

Exactly how long was his hair? Sara’s fingers twitched to untie the ribbon and touch his luxuriant locks. She imagined it unbound, curling onto those broad shoulders. She folded her hands in her lap and stared down at them as Lord Sokorvsky came closer.

“May I get you some tea, Miss Harrison?”

Sara looked up, which gave her a perfect view of the bulging front panel of Lord Sokorvsky’s tight-fitting pantaloons and his flat stomach above.

“No, thank you, my lord.”

He continued to study her. “You look well in that gown, Miss Harrison. With your strong coloring, you are wise to avoid the pale colors debutantes often prefer.”

She glanced down at her rose-red gown and suddenly felt naked. “I’m no debutante, but thank you, my lord. I didn’t realize you were an expert on fashion, as well.”

Without asking for permission, he sat beside her. “When you’ve helped as many women as I have out of their clothes and back into them, you form some opinions.”

Sarah opened her fan with a snap. She must stop baiting him. Every time she tried, he trumped her efforts with the skill of a professional card shark. The sound of a harp being tuned saved her the necessity of replying.

To her consternation, Lord Sokorvsky continued to sit by her side as several young ladies performed with varying success on the harpsichord and harp. He stretched out his legs, and his long thigh touched hers. There was no space for her to move away, so she suffered the intimacy in silence.

Sara applauded Charlotte’s dutiful if uninspired performance and glanced over at her mother. Surely it was time to end the dreadful evening? Lord Sokorvsky caught her hand as she attempted to rise.

“Miss Harrison, are you going to perform for us? How delightful.” He linked his arm through hers and towed her inexorably toward the harpsichord. Sara’s mother frowned and shook her head.

He sorted through the music and placed a double sheet in front of her. “If you are unsure of the notes, Miss Harrison, I’ll sing along and try to drown you out.”

Her mother sat down again, a false smile pinned to her lips. Sara began to play and immediately lost herself in the music. To her delight, Lord Sokorvsky had a pleasing baritone voice that blended well with her husky contralto.

A smattering of applause brought her back to the present and the realization that Lord Sokorvsky was smiling at her. Well, not exactly at her—his gaze had dropped to the low lace-edged bodice of her gown.

“Damnation,” he murmured, “pink or red? I’m still not sure….”

Sara tried to stand, but he handed her another piece of music. “Play this for me. I’m sure it’s well within your capabilities.”

She glanced at the Mozart concerto and began to play. The storm of applause that greeted her performance made her blush and hurry to her feet. She avoided her mother’s eye as she gathered up the music. The chattering guests drifted out of the drawing room, leaving her alone with Lord Sokorvsky.

He took the pile of music away from her and stacked it neatly on the table. “You play like an angel. Why does your mother disapprove?”

Sara covered the harpsichord and blew out the candles. “Because she believes I play too well, and that is not ladylike.”

“She’s a fool. With your talent you might perform professionally.”

She gave him a guarded smile, aware that they were the last people in the room. “Ladies do not do that. I was quite disappointed when my mother told me I couldn’t continue my studies abroad. Even when I begged my father, he refused to agree with me.”

He laid her hand on his sleeve and led her toward the double doors into the hall. “I should imagine you were more than a little disappointed. You probably made your displeasure known for weeks and drove your father to distraction. You strike me as a little spoiled.”

Sara laughed to disguise her annoyance. “I really can’t remember how I felt, my lord. It seems so long ago.” She attempted to disengage her arm as they approached the doorway.

Before she could manage it, he pulled her behind the door. He pressed her against the wall; his body covered hers completely.

She bit back a scream as he stared down at her, his vibrant eyes full of heat. Every inch of his lithe, hard body was pressed firmly against hers. His mouth feathered her lips, and his tongue sought admittance. He kissed her slowly until she learned to kiss him back. When he drew away, Sara opened her mouth to speak.

“Shhh.” He stroked his index finger across her full lower lip and continued the movement down her throat. She swallowed hard as his finger came to rest on her ruffled bodice.

She closed her eyes as he delved beneath the warm silk and exposed the tip of her breast. The rush of cold air on her heated flesh felt like ice on fire. His finger circled the tight bud of her nipple, and she shivered.

“Ah…deep rose pink. Like raspberries and cream.” His approving murmur made her want to touch him, to beg him to touch her. In the hallway behind them she could hear her mother exchanging pleasantries with one of the departing guests. He leaned closer, and she opened her eyes to find herself viewing the top of his head.

He cupped her breast through her bodice, forcing her rounded flesh to overflow her corset, and licked her exposed nipple. Sara bit down hard on her lip. Who would have known that such a small thing could bring such pleasure? He did it again, more strongly, and then sucked her nipple into his mouth.

Instinctively Sara arched her back and tried to give him more. She kept her hands fisted at her sides in a desperate attempt not to grab hold of his head and hold him there forever. His teeth grazed her, and she couldn’t hold back a whimper of pure need. This wasn’t right, but it felt so good. From the moment she’d watched him with Daisy she’d wanted him like this.

He brought his head up and stared at her. He dragged down the other side of her bodice to reveal her other breast. “Spoiled and possibly shameless. If you were mine, I’d sit you on my lap every morning. I’d fondle and suck your breasts until you begged me to stop, until they were swollen and sensitive with need.”

He returned to torment her until it felt as if she would explode. When he lifted his head, his breathing was ragged.

He studied her taut nipples. “Imagine how they’d feel against the lace of your gown and your corset. All day long, every time you took a breath, you’d remember my mouth on you.” He slid his knee between her legs and pressed against the silk of her dress. “By the time I came to your bed, you’d be desperate for me to finish what I’d started. You’d be begging me to fill you with my cock.”

Sara forgot about her mother and the servants. She could barely remember her own name. She shamelessly rubbed herself against the firm pressure of Lord Sokorvsky’s knee wedged between her thighs. Somehow it seemed to relieve the ache that had built there since she’d caught him with Daisy. As she moved, another, more frantic sensation grew instead. Her body was poised on the edge of something, but she didn’t know what.

Lord Sokorvsky rolled her nipples between his fingers and thumbs. “If you looked at me like that, Miss Harrison, I might have to visit you during the day and fuck you on the dining table. Would you enjoy that? Would you like my cock filling every inch of you?”

His casual crudity made her stare intently at his face. Was he punishing her for interfering in his courtship of her sister? He ground his hips against hers, and she forgot all about her family. Her body warmed to his touch; her nipples ached from his attentions. She wanted to climb inside his clothes and lick his skin.

He dragged her hand down to his groin. “Can you feel what you do to me?”

The thick rod of his erection stirred under her hand. She wanted to unbutton his breeches. She wanted him to stop tormenting her and give her whatever it was she needed. He spread his hand over her buttocks and lifted her until she fitted against him. His mouth returned to plunder hers. Then he abruptly stopped.

Sara pushed him away and scrambled to pull up her bodice. She’d completely forgotten Lord Sokorvsky was expected to propose to her sister tomorrow. How could she have behaved so brazenly? He was her sister’s intended. She still wasn’t even sure if she really liked him!

“My father is due back tonight. Do you intend to inform him of your decision then?”

Lord Sokorvsky helped rearrange her bodice. His knuckles constantly brushed her sensitive flesh. “My decision?”

Considering her tumultuous state, Sara was amazed she sounded so calm. She drew in a deep, steadying breath. Damnit, he was right about the delicious friction of her aroused flesh against the fabric of her gown. “About marrying Charlotte. I’m sure he will be delighted.”

He drew back and offered her his arm as they moved out from behind the door. “As to that, Miss Harrison, I haven’t quite made up my mind about Miss Charlotte.”

A familiar dry voice rang out from the hall and startled Sara. “I’m glad to hear it, Lord Sokorvsky, because if that is the case, you seem to be displaying an interest in the wrong sister.”

She ran forward to hug her father, who waited at the bottom of the stairs in the deserted hall. He looked tired, and his greeting to her was distracted. Sara resisted the temptation to pat her flushed cheeks and check her bodice. Did her father know what she and Lord Sokorvsky had been doing?

“Sir, it is good to see you again.” Lord Sokorvsky strode forward and offered his hand to Sara’s father.

“Valentin, my boy, come into my study and share a glass of brandy with me.” He turned to Sara. “Go to bed, my dear. And a word of advice: try to avoid being left alone with young men until you are suitably married.”

Sara smiled at her father and kissed his cheek. He understood her so much better than her mother did. She curtsied to Lord Sokorvsky, who bowed. Her last sight of them was as her father firmly closed the study door.



Valentin took the glass of brandy from John Harrison and cradled it in his hands. Thank goodness he’d heard the carriage approach or he might have been discovered doing something far too intimate with his host’s eldest daughter. There was no denying that Sara stirred his blood. He glanced down and hoped John hadn’t seen the extent of his arousal as he approached him in the hall.

He waited until John took the chair opposite him. His old friend looked tired and drained. His once abundant hair was thinning, his eyes sunken.

Valentin raised his glass to his host. “Thank you for inviting me to your home.”

John grimaced as if the brandy tasted spoiled. “You know why I asked you here.”

Valentin hid his hurt beneath another smile. He’d never been invited to meet John’s family before. He was considered too dangerous. “Of course. You want me to marry one of your daughters. Preferably the youngest, if I recall.”

“You’ve done well for yourself, Valentin. Your shipping business prospers.”

“With Peter’s help.”

John drained his brandy glass. “You should rid yourself of Peter Howard, my boy. He does nothing to help your reputation.”

Valentin smiled again, although the effort this time was greater. It was an old argument, one he grew weary of discussing. “I owe Peter the same debt of gratitude I owe you. Without him I wouldn’t have survived.” Images of the lush, repellant brothel he and Peter had escaped threatened to flood his mind. With the ease of long practice he pushed them aside.

“I did not offer Sara to you as a bride, yet you seem taken with her.” John hesitated. “Sara is exceptional. Yet I fear she wants too much from the world.”

“Because she is a woman?” It irritated him to hear John belittle his daughter. It was not surprising Sara felt stifled. Needing something to do, Valentin got up and added more brandy to both glasses.

John nodded. “She would’ve made a fine boy. All that intelligence and drive, wasted on a female. I admit I am to blame for her lack of docility. I allowed her too much freedom as a child. I encouraged her to pursue her studies in both music and arithmetic.” He drank from his glass. “My wife insists I have made Sara discontented and unwilling to behave like a proper young lady.”

“She seemed perfectly ladylike to me, sir.”

“Sara will require careful handling. I see her marrying a much older man who is willing to tolerate her eccentricities.”

Valentin drew in a breath. “Am I too young and repulsive for Sara, then? Or do you fear my ‘interesting’ past will taint her innocence and make her worse?”

John flinched and avoided Valentin’s gaze. “You are a good man, Valentin, but…”

“After what you know of me, you don’t want me to marry your favorite daughter.” Valentin shot to his feet. “Well, I regret to inform you that she is the only one who interests me. If I can’t have her, I’ll pay off my debt to you in another way.”

He left the study before he said something he might regret. The brandy burned a hole in his stomach. John Harrison had rescued him and Peter from a life of erotic slavery in a distant barbaric country. To his credit, John had never revealed to another soul exactly where he had found the two young Englishmen. His being enslaved for seven years was enough for most people to consider Valentin an oddity. Twelve years had passed since his rescue, and yet he felt as sick and vulnerable as his eighteen-year-old self.

It was obvious that the man he’d admired for over a decade didn’t consider him fit to mate with his favorite daughter. He knew just how desperate John’s financial state must be if he’d even considered him suitable for the other girls. The man hadn’t quite masked his disgust at the thought of Valentin touching one of his precious children, although, to his credit, he had tried.

Valentin loosened the knot of his cravat. Christ, he wanted a bath, but it was far too late to disturb the servants. He paused at the bottom of the stairs and considered saddling his horse and disappearing into the night forever.

Turning, he walked back through the deserted kitchen and let himself out into the back garden. He fumbled in his pocket for a cigar and lit it. Should he abandon his visit? The cloying scent of honeysuckle invaded his nostrils and clashed with the smell of brandy and cigar smoke on his breath. He’d always hated strong fragrances. They reminded him of the lush perfumed bodies of the customers he’d serviced, willingly and unwillingly.

In the distance, the lap of the sea against the shore stirred his overwrought senses. He moved sharply away from the long brick wall that bordered the garden. Would he ever be able to shrug off the rumors and innuendo about his life with Peter in a Turkish bordello?

For a brief while after his rescue by John Harrison, he and Peter had become reluctant celebrities. The release of two English boys after years of captivity had fascinated the nation. To his annoyance, the newspapers still found it necessary to allude to his scandalous past whenever they mentioned his commercial success. Thank God they didn’t know the full story or he and Peter would be considered social pariahs.

After finishing his cigar, he turned back to the crumbling stone manor house. Perhaps John was right. Sara deserved a better husband. He pictured her slender figure in her rose-pink gown, her black hair braided high on her head in a shining coronet. He’d sensed her frustration, her desire to be free, and had deliberately offered her one way to relieve some of that tension.

Her eager response to his touch had unmanned him. Even now, a wave of lust shuddered through him. She didn’t have the sexual experience to realize how strongly he was attracted to her.

Perhaps it was just as well.

A single tallow candle illuminated the somber grandeur of his bedchamber. Valentin strode to the window and drew the thick brocade curtains. A moth flew out of the fabric, drawn by the flickering candlelight. From the ramshackle state of the house, it was obvious that John needed money. The family lacked sufficient servants, and he’d noticed Sara and her sisters wore unfashionable, well-mended gowns. He was also convinced that Charlotte had no desire to marry him at all. Was she being forced into considering him by her rather overbearing mother?

He frowned. Was it possible that John was in danger of losing everything? If so, his desire to protect Sara from Valentin might cost him dearly.

Valentin caught the circling moth between his finger and thumb and pinched hard. Damnation, he’d leave a draft from his bank that should see John through the worst of his debts. He’d also try and forget his ridiculous notion that he was capable of sustaining a marriage.

As soon as she reappeared downstairs after breakfast, Sara was summoned to her father’s study. Her mother’s anxious air and the nonappearance of Lord Sokorvsky at the breakfast table had made her nervous. Had her father dismissed him after witnessing their far-from-casual embrace on the previous evening?

She smoothed down the skirt of her best blue muslin day dress and patted her braided hair. When her father bade her enter, she half expected to see Lord Sokorvsky, but he was absent. Her smile disappeared. Had he left without saying goodbye? Her mother followed her into the room and shut the door. She nodded at her father, but he didn’t respond.

“Sit down, Sara, there is something we wish to discuss with you.”

After a wary glance at her mother, Sara sat.

“Lord Sokorvsky has asked for your hand in marriage.”

She stared at her father, uncertain she’d heard him correctly. Why did he look so grim, and why did her mother appear triumphant?

“I, of course, declined his offer. I consider him a far more suitable partner for Emily or Charlotte.”

Why? What was wrong with her? Her heart beat an unsteady rhythm. “And did Lord Sokorvsky agree with your decision?” She had to ask. She couldn’t decide whether to feel affronted by his offer or delighted that he’d chosen her over her sisters. At least Charlotte would be pleased.

“No,” her father muttered. “He declined that honor.”

Sara half rose from her chair. “I assume he is leaving us then?”

“Unfortunately, my dear, the situation is not quite that simple.” Her father rubbed his eyes and put on his spectacles. “Your mother has very properly reminded me that I have little choice in this matter.”

Sara glanced at her mother.

“What your father is trying to say, my dear, is that he desperately needs money. He can’t afford to let Lord Sokorvsky walk away.”

Sara didn’t need to ask her father if this was correct; she could see the truth of it in his anguished face. She studied her clasped hands, which had started to tremble. Valentin wanted her? A mixture of joy and trepidation rushed through her veins. She was being asked to ensure her father’s financial survival by marrying a man who both intrigued and excited her. Heat flooded her senses even as she tried to look grave and composed. At last she had the chance to experience life beyond the stifling world defined by her mother.

“Lord Sokorvsky’s family is very well connected.” Sara’s mother was still talking. “He has ties to both the Russian and British nobility. His mother was actually a real princess, can you imagine it! You would be in line for a very exalted position in society. I should hope you wouldn’t forget your sisters when you are in a position to help them marry well….”

Sara shot to her feet. “Of course I’ll marry him, Father. I consider it my duty.”

She wanted to laugh as her body rejoiced at the mere thought of being bedded on a regular basis by Valentin. During his short but exciting visit, he had forced her to see herself as a woman who needed to be touched by a man.

Her father’s shoulders sagged, and he covered his face with his hands. “Perhaps you would like to find Lord Sokorvsky and tell him of your decision. I believe he is breakfasting in his bedchamber.”

In the deserted hallway, Sara picked up her skirts and twirled around until she felt dizzy. When she’d regained some composure she headed up the stairs. At the door to Lord Sokorvsky’s room, she hesitated. She’d never gone into a man’s bedroom before. It was not at all proper. Why had her father sent her up here alone? It was almost as if he were too ashamed to face Lord Sokorvsky himself. Shouldn’t her marriage be a joyous occasion?

She tapped on the door and opened it. Lord Sokorvsky sat on the side of his bed pulling on long black leather boots. His blue waistcoat was unbuttoned and his cravat untied. Her hands curled into fists.

When he saw her, he rose to his feet and bowed.

“Miss Harrison.”

“Lord Sokorvsky.”

Sara advanced into the room. Sunlight patterned the faded carpet and made the dust motes dance. He didn’t seem particularly pleased to see her. In the bright morning light he looked older, harder, and less amenable. Doubt flooded her bright certainty. How could she broach the subject? She opened her mouth to speak.

He turned his back on her and strode to the mirror to tie his cravat. She watched his deft fingers assemble the intricate folds and knots and secure them with a diamond pin. He caught her gaze in the mirror and held it.

“Miss Harrison, if your father sent you here to beg money from me, you can tell him—”

“Sir, he did not!” Sara interrupted him. It was suddenly imperative that she had her say. “He sent me to accept your proposal of marriage.”

His fingers stilled on his cravat, and he turned to face her. “He did what?” His smile returned, the one that always seemed to mock her. “Damnation, he must be more desperate than I thought.”

Sara stiffened. How dare he assume that about her father? “You are mistaken, my lord. He succumbed to my pleas to marry you. I was the one who begged.”

“And what about your loyalty to your sister, Charlotte? Is she laid down weeping on her bed because you have poached her potential husband?”

She found herself glaring at him. “Despite your inflated idea of your own importance, Charlotte is in love with someone else.”

He strode toward her, and she resisted the temptation to step back. He placed his fingers under her chin and tilted her face up until he could see into her eyes.

“You begged for me?”

“Why would I not? You have shown me the delights of being a woman.” Sara stared back at him. Her bold words were not entirely a lie to protect her father’s reputation.

“By God, I’ll make you beg.”

He lowered his mouth to hers. She whimpered as he thrust his tongue inside her mouth. Overwhelmed by the rough texture of his tongue and teeth, she grabbed hold of his shoulders to anchor herself against the raging storm of his assault. He dragged her closer until they touched from mouth to toe. His erection pressed hard against her stomach. She fought a mad impulse to wrap her leg high over his hip, push against him, and echo the pulsing rhythm of his tongue with her entire body.

He drew his mouth away from hers and held her at arm’s length. “Miss Harrison, will you do me the honor of marrying me?”

She gazed at him and imagined spending the rest of her life in his bed.

“Yes, Lord Sokorvsky, I will.”

“Drat this gown!”

Sara reached behind her and attempted to untangle the laces of her wedding dress. Through the bow window that overlooked the tranquil park of the old country house, darkness crept toward her. Her new husband had every right to expect her to be undressed and waiting for him in bed by now. Close to tears, she tugged at the pearl-trimmed bodice and tried to pull her arm clear.

“May I help you?”

She clutched the silk fabric to her breasts. In the mirror she saw Lord Sokorvsky’s reflection. He still wore his navy-blue wedding finery, which deepened his eyes to a darker violet and provided a perfect contrast to his tied-back hair and handsome features.

To her mother’s immense disappointment, and Sara’s relief, the wedding had been a quiet affair at the local church attended only by her family and two of Valentin’s business associates.

Sara attempted a shrug. “I sent my maid away. I wanted to undress myself.”

A frown creased Lord Sokorvsky’s brow and then cleared. “Of course, I should have realized. Your mother must have sent Daisy with you.” He came toward her, his shadow darkening the carpet between them.

“Well, I could hardly ask my mother for a different maid without offering an explanation.” It had been a long day. Her tone was sharper than usual, her patience nonexistent.

“Did you fear Daisy might offer you some unwanted advice?” He stepped closer and studied the back of her lavender silk gown.

Sara shivered as he traced the curve of her bare shoulder with his fingertips. “I have received enough advice from my mother and my aunts to send me screaming from you in horror.”

He caught her tangled laces and tugged hard enough to bring her back against his chest. The lace of his cravat itched between her shoulder blades. His knuckles brushed her skin as he worked to free her. “And what exactly did your mother tell you?”

“That I should lie still, hope you finished quickly, and pray for many children so that you would keep away from me.”

His soft laughter stirred the hair at the exposed nape of her neck. “And is that what you want?”

He turned her to face him, his eyes steady on hers. She felt breathless. “No, it’s not. I have this strange desire to lick your skin and crawl all over you.”

His eyebrow went up as he lowered his gaze to her partially exposed bosom. “That is very enterprising of you. Are you sure you are still a virgin?”

She went to cover herself, but he caught her wrists. “And if I wasn’t? Would I disgust you?” She stared at the front of his tight white satin pantaloons. “I would wager you aren’t a virgin.”

He followed her gaze and lowered her right hand until her palm was flattened against his erection. “That’s the reason I ask, my dear. I am reputed to have a very large cock. You could never disgust me. But if you are a virgin, your sheath will be tight.”

His frankness about carnal matters no longer surprised her. In truth, she found it reassuring and curiously liberating. On the rare occasion she’d seen him in the four weeks since their betrothal, he’d kissed her repeatedly and murmured a litany of the sensual delights that awaited her in his bed.

Even after he let go of her wrist, she kept her hand pressed to his groin. A steady, hot pulse thrummed under her fingers as she caressed the cool satin.

“Surely there are ways…to help my body accept you?” His cock throbbed and grew again. She widened her fingers, desperate to capture every inch of him.

“There are many ways, and I intend to use them all. By the time I enter you properly, you’ll be so desperate to have me inside you you’ll hardly notice any pain.” He stepped back and studied her, his expression intent. “When you play the harpsichord, what do you think about?”

His abrupt change of subject confused her. “I think about the music, the way it flows through me.” She half smiled. “Sometimes I forget who I am.”

He nodded and took her hand. He turned it palm upward and kissed it. “Then do something for me tonight. Forget you are a well-brought-up young lady and pretend you are the instrument I will play upon. Allow me to use your body as a conduit for the beautiful music we shall create together.”

She smiled at his confidence and withdrew her hand. “Show me, then, for I am eager to learn.”

He helped her to step out of her gown and petticoats, leaving her dressed in her loosened corset, thin muslin shift, and gartered stockings. Under his gentle guidance, she seated herself at her vanity table. He removed his coat and waistcoat and stood behind her. She felt his fingers in her hair, gently teasing apart the curled and braided strands of her elaborate hairstyle. She sighed as the last pin was removed and stretched her neck.

He took up her brush and started to comb out her hair. “I didn’t realize your hair was so long. It’s almost to your waist.”

Sara leaned back into the long, steady strokes of the brush. “The hairstylist you sent from London wanted to cut most of it off this morning. He insisted it was most unfashionable.”

“I’m glad you didn’t listen to him. I can’t wait to see it fanned on the pillow beneath you.” He stopped brushing, and his fingers worked on her loosened corset laces. “If you take this off, I’ll be able to continue more easily.”

She let him slip the corset from her body and then resume his brushing. Her eyes threatened to close as she luxuriated in the soft sounds of the bristles moving through her hair. After four frantic weeks dominated with wedding plans, dealing with her mother, and an elusive bridegroom, she was ready to drop with exhaustion. She jerked awake when Valentin drew her hair over her shoulders and passed the brush over her nipples. He continued the stroke from collarbone to hip until she wanted to purr.

Her nipples poked out through the thin muslin like unripe berries. Valentin caught her gaze in the mirror. He circled the tip of her right breast with the handle of the brush, making her shiver.

“Do you like that?”

She nodded as he increased the pressure and then transferred his attentions to her other breast. Her breathing quickened. Valentin put the brush down.

“Then you’ll like this even more.”

Still standing behind her, he slid his hands down from her shoulders and cupped her breasts. Sara licked her lips as he rolled her nipples between his fingers and thumbs. Heat seared straight to her womb. She resisted the urge to squeeze her legs together.

Her head fell back against his torso, and she encountered the thickness of his shaft against her cheek. She turned and nuzzled the satin. His fingers stopped moving over her breasts and then pinched hard. She nudged him again, tried to bite. His whole body shuddered.

“Not yet, my dear.” He stepped away from her. “We’ve a long way to go before you’re ready to take my cock in your mouth.”

She studied him carefully, but he didn’t appear to be joking. Why on earth would any woman agree to do that?

He knelt in front of her and picked up the hairbrush again. She frowned and caught his wrist.

“You have hair here, too, Sara,” he said, smiling. “I need to attend to all of you.”

Cool air glided over her thighs as he inched her shift up to her waist. She locked her knees together in an unconscious barrier.

“Let me in. I swear I will not hurt you. And if I do anything you don’t like, just tell me and I’ll stop.”

She forced her knees to relax, felt the cool linen of his shirt against her inner thighs as he moved between her legs. He touched the brush to the curls covering her mound. Sara closed her eyes and listened to the soft scratch of the bristles. Lord Sokorvsky’s warm scent rose up to engulf her senses.

His finger replaced the brush, flicking lightly at the swollen bud that guarded the entrance to her woman’s secrets. She resisted a sudden urge to grab his hand but whether to stop him or make him to move faster, she didn’t know. When she touched herself like this, it never felt so intense.

As the pad of his thumb continued to circle, his middle finger slipped inside her. She suppressed a gasp as pleasure rolled over her.

“You are wet. Your body is preparing to welcome me despite your fears.”

Sara opened her eyes and looked down. Her mother always said her unladylike curiosity would be the death of her. Lord Sokorvsky’s attention was fixed on the slow inward glide of his finger. A soft sucking sound punctuated the silence as he probed her sheath.

“Is it normal to be so wet down there?”

“Of course. Your pussy wants my cock. Your cream will ease my way and make it more pleasurable for you.”

His frank, matter-of-fact answers about sex made Sara relax. She suspected she could ask him anything and he’d answer her. He eased a second finger alongside the first. She tensed but found her body eager to accept him, willing to stretch.

He knelt up, his fingers still working her, and brought his mouth to her breasts. He licked one nipple through the filmy muslin and then drew it into his mouth, suckling in time to his thrusting fingers.

Sara’s hips pushed up from the chair as she fought to increase the pressure of his hand against her. She knew something dangerously pleasurable awaited her, but she wasn’t sure whether she wanted to embrace it or run from it.

Lord Sokorvsky added a third finger. All sense of selfpreservation fled as Sara’s attention centered on the luscious sensations he provoked. She strained to meet his thrusts, grinding her mound into the welcoming, waiting palm of his hand. Her hands crept up to his broad shoulders, and she dug her nails into his muscled flesh. She gave a frustrated cry as the sensations she could only imagine refused to flower.

He raised his head, his smile teasing. “This isn’t a race, Sara, we have all night.” He rubbed his thumb against her lower lip. “In truth, we have the rest of our lives to learn how to pleasure each other.”

He winced as she dug her nails in harder. “But I want to know, my lord, I want to know why some women fear this and others dream of it.”

He smiled then and looked down to where his fingers disappeared inside her. “My name is Valentin; you of all people have the right to use it. And don’t be so impatient. By the time I’ve finished with you, you’ll not be afraid.” He got to his feet and pulled her up with him. “Help me take off my shirt.”

Sara grasped the heavy linen at his waist. It refused to budge. She considered the fastenings of his pantaloons and tugged at the buttons. He trapped her hand against the bulging front panel.

“Do you feel my cock, Sara? Does it please you?”

She studied the impressive thick rod outlined in his pantaloons. “I’m not sure, my lord, I mean, Valentin.” She bit her lip. “It seems rather large to fit inside me.”

He brought her hand up to his mouth and kissed her fingertips. “I’ll fit. You’ll make room for me.”

His confidence inspired hers. She tackled the buttons of his pantaloons and allowed the front flap to fall. To her disappointment, his full shirt covered his torso. He worked on his diamond cuff links and dropped them onto the dressing table with a careless clatter.

“Come.” He took her hand and led her toward the large canopied four-poster bed that stood in the center of the magnificent room. He bent his head. “Pull my shirt off.”

In the light summer darkness, his skin was bronzed and rippled with muscle. Curling brown hair covered his upper chest and narrowed over his flat stomach. Unable to stop herself, Sara reached forward and traced a small crescent-shaped scar under his right nipple.

He shuddered and leaned forward, trapping her between his hands, the bed, and his large hot body. Sara kept her mouth closed as he kissed her until his teeth nipped at her lower lip. Her palm was pressed to his chest, and she could feel the thump of his heart.

Without speaking, his hands closed around her waist, and he lifted her to sit on the high bed. Sara tried to balance herself as he pushed her thighs wide with his broad shoulders. The feel of his hard, muscled flesh against her inner thighs made her want to groan.

She shivered as his tongue traced her navel and headed south. He spared her an intent glance. “Take off your shift. I want you naked.” She struggled out of the garment and braced her hands on the bed. He made a soft sound of approval against her most intimate flesh.

“You’re very wet now. I like that. I’ll make you wetter, though.”

Sara felt the first gliding pass of his tongue over her sex and almost fell off the bed. Her already aroused flesh felt as hot and vulnerable as an open wound. It was nothing like the fleeting warmth she felt when she touched herself. How could he give such pleasure with just his mouth? She gripped the embroidered bedcover in her fists as he continued to lap at her.

When he sucked her swollen bud into his mouth, she forgot all about being a lady and groaned and thrust her hips forward in time to his urgent pressure. His fingers joined his mouth, pressed upward into her tight sheath, and widened her for his entry, making her wet and ready.

Sara managed to unclench one of her hands from the bedclothes and wrap it in Valentin’s long hair. Her left foot crept up to his shoulder as she strained against him, keeping him close, craving the tight, hard slam of his fingers and mouth.

He moved faster now, the wet sound of his fingers and mouth in rhythm with her moans. He groaned against her clit, sending delicious shivers to her womb, dragged his unshaven chin up and down her pussy.

“Come for me, Sara, take your pleasure.” His voice sounded hoarse as he set his teeth gently on her inner thigh. She could hardly hear him, so intent on gaining her release, so desperate to explode with the unknown feelings he created in her.

“Come for me.” Harsher now, his fingers ramming into her as she strained desperately against him. And then, even his voice faded as a roar of excitement flooded her and sent great pulsing waves of pleasure from her womb to her breasts and back down to her toes in an endless circle of delight.

When she opened her eyes, she lay on the bed. Valentin lounged next to her, his face still wet with her cream. He buried his head between her breasts. She inhaled the scent of her own arousal as it warmed her skin.

He gazed down at her. “I told you you would enjoy it, and we haven’t finished yet.”

Sara sat up, already realizing that he still had more clothes on than she did. “Shall I help you with your pantaloons?”

Valentin’s boots fell to the floor with a thump. “Yes, but be careful. My cock is primed and ready to come.”

She was careful as she pulled his pantaloons down and tossed them onto the carpet. She crawled back up the bed to study Valentin’s monstrous erection. His cock had to be at least eight inches long and was very thick at the base. At the tip, Sara noticed a bubble of clear liquid. She touched it, rubbing the moistness between her fingers.

“You are wet, too. Does this help ease your way?”

He nodded as another pearl of liquid formed and slid down to coat his already glistening cock. “Touch me again.”

Sara gulped and wrapped her fingers around the base of his shaft.



Valentin sucked in a breath and laid his hand over Sara’s. He was both amused and intensely stimulated by her innocent sensuality. Despite her inexperience, she seemed unafraid.

“Have you seen an aroused man before?”

He asked the question before he considered the implications of her answer. The thought of her appreciating another man’s cock was too infuriating to be contemplated.

Sara slowly shook her head. Soft hair trailed across his groin, adding to the urgent thrust of his need.

“Only you with Daisy.” She half smiled at him. “And even then I didn’t see,” she squeezed his shaft, “this.”

Valentin showed her how to slide her fingers up and down his shaft. She pushed herself into a kneeling position. He admired the sway of her breasts and the curve of her narrow waist as she unconsciously rocked against him.

As his excitement built, he took her other hand and cupped it around his balls. She was breathing faster now, her grip on his cock exquisitely tight, almost to the point of pain. The rhythm was irregular, and her nails dug into his most tender flesh. It didn’t matter. He always enjoyed finding the extreme edge of passion.

He disengaged his fingers and allowed her to work his shaft alone. Sliding one arm around her buttocks, he urged her closer until her breast swung against his cheek. He drew her nipple into his mouth and suckled hard.

Sara moaned as he slid two long fingers inside her sheath and thrust in time to his mouth and her pumping fingers. He felt his balls tighten and his come travel up his shaft. With a groan, he managed to release Sara’s nipple before he bit too hard. He came in hard, pulsing waves, his hot, thick seed flooding out over her fingers.

When he sat back on his pillows, Sara still had her hand wrapped around his now flaccid cock. He raised an eyebrow.

“Have I shocked you?”

She released his cock and stared at her soaked fingers. “I didn’t know that would happen.” She brought her index finger to her mouth and gave it a tentative lick. Valentin’s shaft jumped in an instinctive response.

“You taste like the sea.” A smile curved her luscious mouth. “At first I thought I’d done something wrong. Then I realized you were groaning with pleasure, not pain.”

His shaft thickened at the sight of her pointed red tongue licking his seed. He imagined how her mouth would feel sucking his cock.

“You are a very unusual virgin.”

She glanced at him, her expression uncertain. She pressed her hand into the sheets and wiped her fingers.

“Have I displeased you? I forgot, I am supposed to be an innocent maiden who couldn’t possibly be interested in such matters.”

“Why should you think that? Do you imagine I looked forward to bedding a woman who couldn’t understand that sex is enticing and exciting and irresistible?”

He wrapped his hand around her neck and brought her facedown to his level. “I want you to enjoy our marriage bed. I want to know that the thought of it makes you wet and aroused. I want you to want me.”

His newly erect cock jabbed at her stomach. He pulled her down and rolled her onto her back. She stared at him as he fanned her hair on the pillow. When he touched her knees, she obligingly opened her legs. He pushed them wide, eager to see her aroused pussy.

Jesu, he was hard again just looking at her swollen clit and puffed-up labia. She was ready for him. Cream poured from her channel, making him want to rub his face in her juices until she screamed his name. He crawled toward her until his balls pressed against her pussy. The underside of his cock nudged her swollen clit, and she shuddered. Bracing his hands on either side of her head, he looked down at her.

“I’m going to lick your sex now, and you’re going to love it. When you’re screaming and begging to come, I’ll slide my cock inside you and you’ll love that even more.”



Sara couldn’t speak. His words destroyed the last of her resistance. His long hair, barely contained now by the loose blue ribbon, hung over one shoulder. She reached up and pulled the ribbon out. He shook his head, and his hair settled around his shoulders in dark, glorious waves.

He kissed his way down her throat and latched onto one of her breasts. She sighed at the silken feel of his hair against her skin and the insistent tug of his mouth. When both her nipples were hard and wet from his attentions, he moved lower, brushing his lips over her navel before pausing at her mound.

“Raise your hips.”

Sara reacted to his gentle command, and he slid a pillow underneath her buttocks, opening her further to his gaze. The first silken glide of his tongue over her sex made her jump. He curved a firm hand over her hip and kept her pinned to the bed.

She strained against him, ignoring his laughter at her ineffectual attempts to tame his excesses. His tongue probed her sheath, accompanied by four of his long fingers. He worked her toward a climax, his mouth rougher on her soft flesh, his teeth nipping and holding her clit until she writhed with the need to come.

She screamed and tried to pull his hair when he drew back, his pirate face ablaze with lust. He knelt between her thighs, one hand massaging his thick cock.

“You’ll take me now.”

Sara shuddered as he worked the first couple of inches of his shaft inside her. He watched her face, stopping when he met the barrier of her maidenhead. Still holding her gaze, he drew her index finger into his mouth, licked it, and then pressed it against her clit.

She almost bucked off the bed, driving him deeper, and tried to ignore the heavy surge of pain that followed. He grunted and kept up his inexorable slide inward. For the first time, Sara considered the possibility that she might break in two. She glanced down at his groin and stifled a moan. He was only halfway in.

“I don’t think I can take any more.” Her voice sounded highpitched and most unlike herself.

“You will.” Valentin remained braced over her, his expression intent. “You just need to relax.” He bent his head and slowly licked her nipple. “Come now, don’t turn all maidenly on me. Remember, you are my instrument of pleasure. Let me play a while longer.” She watched his tongue flick back and forth over her breast. He moved his hips in the same subtle rhythm; his cock slid deeper inside her with every gentle flex of his pelvis.

Enthralled, she gave herself up to the erotic dance he led her into. The slide and glide of his shaft and the soft lick of his tongue became the focus of her being. She let her pleasure build with his until her fingernails dug into his shoulders and she screamed her release. His body jerked as he released a hot stream of seed deep within her womb. He collapsed over her, his mouth close to her ear.

“You’re mine now. I’m the only man you’ll ever let between your thighs. I’m the only man who will ever bring you pleasure.”



When dawn broke through the still open curtains, Sara turned on her side to observe her sleeping husband. He no longer wore the coin medallion she had glimpsed during his encounter with Daisy. In the soft light, she could see the fine silver lines she’d felt etched on his back during the night. She reached out to touch the nape of his neck. Her fingers brushed a raised patch of skin, and she tried to trace the pattern.

She stifled a shriek as Valentin erupted from the bed and pinned her beneath him.

“What the hell are you doing?” He rolled her onto her back and glared down at her.

Sara swallowed and tried to meet his ferocious gaze.

“I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Valentin ran a hand though his tousled hair. “I’m not used to sleeping with anyone.”

Sarah frowned. “So you fear to be attacked in your own bed?”

After a long moment, Valentin laughed. “In other people’s beds, certainly. Husbands do have a tendency to arrive home unexpectedly.”

She struggled to conceal her hurt. “I touched the scars on your back. That is probably what awakened you.” She took in a breath for courage. “You’ve been beaten, haven’t you? Just before our marriage, my father told me you were a Turkish slave for seven years of your life.”

He moved away and sat on the edge of the bed, presenting her with his scarred back. He smoothed the linen sheets with his long fingers. “And what else did he tell you?”

“Only that he happened upon you and another English boy and insisted on buying you. He brought you both back to England.”

“He saved our lives. I will always be grateful to him.”

She sensed a lack of emotion in his carefully spoken words. Would he have preferred to be left to die?

“I’m glad he saved you, too.”

Valentin swung around to stare at her, one eyebrow raised. “Because of this?” he glanced down at his growing erection. “Any man could give you this.”

Sara smiled. “Actually I was thinking of my father. It makes me proud to be his daughter.”

“Touché, madam.” He crawled toward her, his cock grasped in one hand. “And now since we are both awake, perhaps you’ll let me inside you again?”

So much for the perfect honeymoon. Sara stormed into her bedroom and slammed the door. Valentin’s polite excuses about having to work sounded forced to her ears. She contemplated her disconsolate reflection in the shadowed gilt mirror over her dressing table. He noticed her only when she was in his bed. Was he determined to keep their lives separate? She wasn’t used to being ignored. Her last two days at the secluded Essex manor house had settled into a pattern she could no longer ignore.

Every attempt she made to appear interested in Valentin’s work or to offer her help was politely dismissed or ignored. Even her request to visit the local gentry was put off with a smile. With no one to talk to for most of the day, she’d taken to wandering around the grounds and paddling her feet in the lake.

She expected better of him. He had seemed to like her boldness and curiosity. Had it all been a sham to persuade her to marry him? Was she going to be ignored and patronized by her husband like most of the wives of her acquaintance?

She rang for her new maid to unlace her and then put on her nightgown. The faded elegance of her bedchamber no longer held any appeal. She even missed her mother’s complaints and her sisters arguing. A small china clock on the mantelpiece chimed eleven times, startling her. She threw the brush down and stomped toward the bed. A headache threatened behind her eyes. If Valentin’s work was so important, perhaps he wouldn’t even bother to join her tonight.

Sara scolded herself for being so childish. Maybe Valentin was right to call her spoiled. Marriage wasn’t a game, and she wasn’t one of those women who couldn’t exist without a man to order her world. Her father had often worked long hours to secure his various business interests. Why should she be surprised that Valentin was the same?

And he had given her so much…. Determined to be more charitable, she drew back the bedcovers and found a package on the pillow. She pulled off the gold string and unfolded the crackling brown paper to reveal a silk-covered book. There was no name on the vibrant scarlet cover. Intrigued, she opened the first page and began to read. The flamboyant handwriting was unfamiliar.

This book is for us. Share your dreams and sexual fantasies until you grow bold enough to ask for them out loud. I will endeavor to fulfill any desires you have.

Don’t be afraid to imagine.

Valentin.

Sara ran her fingers over the finely written script. How astute of Valentin to realize that her courage didn’t always live up to her recently discovered needs. She turned the page and found he had written more. Softly she read the words out loud.

“I sit at my desk in the study. It is late and I am thinking of you lying in bed alone. Does my beautiful bride believe I have abandoned her? Perhaps she needs to understand that I am no pampered aristocrat but a man who chooses to work for his living, despite the contempt of his peers.

“I shift in my seat as my cock swells within my breeches, wishing I could be inside you driving you t. . .