Writing
about Rajasthani Moon yesterday, I realized I hadn’t done a
Sizzling Sunday post from that novel in a long time. So I thought I’d
remedy that!
Here’s
a spicy bit that’s the prelude to one of the more extreme BDSM
scenes in the book.
Blurb
Neither
kink nor curse can stop a woman with a mission.
Cecily
Harrowsmith, secret agent extraordinaire, is a woman on a mission.
When the remote Indian kingdom of Rajasthan refused to remit its
taxes to the Empire, Her Majesty imposed an embargo. Deprived of the
energy-rich mineral viridium, essential for modern technology and
development, Rajasthan was expected to quickly give in and resume its
payments. Yet after three years, the rebellious principality still
has not knuckled under. Cecily undertakes the difficult journey to
that rugged, arid land in order to determine just how it has managed
to survive, and if possible to convince the country to return to the
Empire’s embrace. Instead, she’s taken captive by a brigand, who
turns out to be the ruler’s half-brother Pratan, and delivered into
the hands of the sexy but sadistic Rajah Amir, who expertly mingles
torture and delight in his interrogation of the voluptuous
interloper.
Cursed
before birth by Amir’s jealous mother, Pratan changes to a ravening
wolf whenever the moon is full. Cecily uncovers the counter-spell
that can reverse the effects of the former queen’s hex and tries to
trade that information for her freedom. Drawn to the fierce wolf-man
and sympathising with his suffering, she volunteers to serve as the
sacrifice required by the ritual—offering her body to the beast. In
return, the Rajah reveal Rajasthan’s amazing secret source of
energy. In the face of almost impossible odds, Cecily has
accomplished the task entrusted to her by the Empire. But can she
really bear to leave the virile half-brothers and their colourful
land behind and return to the constraints of her life in England?
Excerpt
Cecily
swished her hand through the rose-scented water in the fingerbowl,
then scrambled to a standing position. “If you’ll excuse me, Your
Highness, I would like to retire. I am quite exhausted by the day’s
events.”
“Oh
no, Miss Harrowsmith. Your presence is most definitely necessary for
the evening’s entertainment. Pratan, if you’d do the honours…”
The
prince sprang up, seizing her by the wrist before she could flinch
away. “Come along, Cecily.” His strong fingers were as tenacious
as one of his voice-activated shackles. “I haven’t had the
pleasure of reddening your delightful bum in more than twenty-four
hours…”
“No!
Not again!” Her instincts taking over, Cecily spun on the ball of
her right foot, aiming a kick at his groin with her left. Pratan
appeared to anticipate her move. Without releasing his hold on her
wrist, he snatched her flying ankle out of the air, jerked it towards
the ceiling, and toppled her back onto the cushions.
“Don’t
misbehave. You’ll only make things harder on yourself.” Fuming,
Cecily couldn’t help notice that her discomfiture had finally
brought a smile to the man’s previously sombre features. She also
realised, with some annoyance, that his brilliant parry had
engendered a distinct dampness between her thighs.
“I
won’t go willingly,” she insisted, trying to salvage her pride.
“And don’t forget I’m a diplomatic envoy. It’s a serious
breach of international protocol for you to use force.”
“International
protocol be damned.” Without further argument, Pratan grabbed her
around the waist, heaved her substantial bulk over his shoulder and
headed for the interior of the palace, following the Rajah and
Sarita.
His
arm clamped across the back of her legs, holding her fast. Her head
hung down, almost level with his waist, so that her long hair dangled
in her face. The awkward position pressed her pubis against his
shoulder and, with every step he took, his muscles rippled under the
sensitive pad of flesh, teasing and delicious. Arse in the air, she
beat her fists against his powerful back in a futile effort to stop
his progress.
“Let
me go, you brute!”
Her
captor responded by sliding a hand under her skirt and pinching her
butt cheek. Unerringly, he found one of her welts from the previous
night.
“Ow!
Stop that!”
He
ignored her protests. Instead he probed her rear crevice, seeking her
still-stretched pucker. “You don’t have to pretend with me,
lady.” He squirmed a finger inside and for an instant she thought
she might embarrass herself completely by coming in response to that
rude intrusion. Another finger settled into her soaked cleft. “You’re
wetter than a monsoon rain.” He flicked her clit, wringing a groan
from her throat, before disappearing. “You love it rough.”
She
ceased her struggling, realising she should conserve her energy for
more crucial efforts. Pratan hauled her along lavishly decorated
corridors that bustled with palace functionaries, who fell back and
bowed as the ruler and his brother paraded past with their burdens of
female flesh. Then he carried her down two flights of stairs,
handling her ten and a half stone with impressive ease. They paused,
and she heard the metallic click of lock tumblers falling into place.
Pratan stepped through an arched doorway and pulled the wood and iron
door shut behind them. With her hair veiling her eyes, Cecily
couldn’t see their surroundings very well, but the dimly lit
hallway along which they now progressed appeared to have been hewn
from solid rock.
“Where
are we?”
“My
brother’s very private playground. It’s quite a privilege to be
issued an invitation. You should feel honoured.”
“Honoured?
Balderdash.”
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