Branded a traitor, Sir Giles Moncrieff was disowned by his family and his country. He now makes his fortune out of an exclusive club, where debauched men can live out their sexual fantasies.
Escaping from her brutal owner, Angel Smith finds solace in her skills as a circus acrobat.
Can two tortured souls find happiness together, or will their dark secrets tear them apart?
Giles blew out the lamps, all except one. He could not stand total darkness after the months of blackness when he was a prisoner of the French. Had Jenkins not been incarcerated with him, he would have gone stark, raving mad.
He picked Angel up, it was agony to move such was his state of arousal. Excitement, like nothing he had ever experienced before, surged through him. This was going to be a night to remember. He did not doubt it for a moment. He laid her on the sheet, she tried to roll over, but he stopped her with a hand on her stomach.
She looked pure and unsullied, like a bride waiting for her husband to join her in their marriage bed. A pity she was not a virgin, like most men he was not averse to deflowering young women. Still, her creamy, flawless flesh was a worthy prize. The thought of that gypsy oaf having his way with her was like a red hot poker being driven into his gut.
He was surprised that he could become so aroused after she had so recently milked him. He was a lusty devil at the best of times, but with a beauty like her, he was crazed with need.
Climbing into bed he reached for her immediately. He did not kiss whores but this exquisite wench was different. His mouth covered hers and he could taste his juices on her soft sweet lips.
She lay as stiff as a board and he could hear the frantic pounding of her heart. “Relax, it will be good between us.” He moved his mouth so he could nuzzle her throat. His hand went to her breast and she flinched away. He rolled one nipple between his thumb and forefinger, the other one he drew into his mouth and suckled it hard.
He felt her hands on either side of his head, her fingers pressing into his hair. Oh God, he was so hard he wondered why his cock did not poke a hole in her as it speared into her thigh. His mouth travelled down her body, giving little nibbles until it reached her mound. The lamplight spilled out on to her pussy hair, burnishing it to a deep copper color.
She gave a startled cry when he parted her legs and rested his head on her mound so he could slide his tongue inside her hot moist clit. In and out, faster and faster he worked her and the faster and harder he went, the hotter and wetter she became. Triumph surged through him, his little ice princess was thawing out. Feeling as if he was ready to self-combust he crawled back up her body. His balls throbbed, they were pebble hard now.
She bucked as his cock entered the hot little pleasure cave. She was so tight he tried to control his thrust and ease himself in. The skin would be rubbed off his cock if he was not careful.
“Relax,” he hissed. “You are acting like some outraged virgin.”
Angel tried not to tense up, Giles had freed her from Vince’s evil clutches and he was not a sadistic beast like Lord Benditt. She ran her hand across his perspiration soaked back and her fingers came in contact with lines of roughened skin.
He pushed into her again, gentle thrusts that took him in deep. She felt the warm spurt, it lubricated her vaginal walls, softened them. She suddenly realized he was not trying to hurt her. Instinctively her legs came up around his waist so he could not move away.
Butterflies cavorted deep within her womb, the walls of her vagina convulsed. He started moving again with long powerful thrusts and she tried to raise her hips, but the weight of his body pressed her bum into the mattress. A million stars sparkled inside her head, so bright she had to close her eyes so they would not blind her.
“Yes. Yes. Move with me.” Great tremors shook his body, his breathing became labored. He was thrusting deeper, harder, faster, and her nails dug into the flesh of his back. She did not want him to stop. Lord Bendittt had continually raped her. Savage, uncaring he had slammed her on to the bed, forced her thighs apart and speared into her. She had hated the pain, the sheer agony of the vicious brute as he tore her apart with his monstrous appendage, but Giles was different. A calming warmth spread over her body and she began to want him as much as he wanted her. He rolled away and she whimpered in deprivation until he lifted her onto his still rampant cock.
“Ride me like you do that horse of yours.”
She gladly obliged. His gasps and groans emboldened her, leaning down she placed her palms on his chest and took his nipple into her mouth, sucking and encircling it with her tongue, just as he had done with her. She admired his stamina. Lord Benditt would saturate her with his juices after three or four brutal thrusts.
She rode Giles slowly at first, then faster and faster, rocking from side to side, then she turned a full circle and he gave a guttural growl and shot his seed into her.
Available in print and e-book formats.
KC Vixen is a multi-published Australian author. She loves delving into the pages of history as she carries out research for her erotic romance novellas, which are of the historical variety. She has always loved historical research, so she has combined this with a desire to write steamy sex.
KC is a member of the Melbourne Romance Writers Group (MRWG) She is married with three sons.
Other titles by KC are: Satan's Wench, Becky's Master, Marlow's Revenge.