AS WICKED AS YOU WANT (Forever Ours Book 1)
by Nia Farrell
Length 155,227 words / 609 pages Amazon Kindle https://www.amazon.com/dp/B01ICAW8LI/ or http://mybook.to/FO1
Teasers and excerpt:
https://niafarrell.wordpress.com/as-wicked-as-you-want/ or http://bit.ly/29r2ncu
Elena “Lane” Davenport is a struggling artist who’s been living as a man since the Civil War. Suffering from “soldier’s heart” (PTSD), facing arrest for failing to officially muster out, Lane is about to lose everything when an offer of help comes from the most unexpected of places. Edward Wainwright is a British history professor—and Lane/Elena’s stepbrother. A dominant man with forbidden passions, he comes to America with news of their mother’s death and finds himself twice tempted. There’s instant attraction between Lane and Edward. Reclaiming her true gender to slip past the Pinkertons should make things easier…except Edward wants both Elena and her studio assistant Daniel O'Flaherty. He hopes that Daniel will eventually submit to him, but they’ll need to learn—when it comes to Elena—just how much Daniel is willing to share. Three soulmates are destined to find each other. Chance brings them together. Will Fate tear them apart? Written for ages 18+.
“What was that?” I rasped, my voice an octave lower than normal. I’d been a vocal partner, urging him on, begging him to finish, yelping when he accidentally hit a sore spot, crying his name into the mattress when his curled fingers hit another, sweeter place.
“The French call it la petite morte,” he said. “‘The little death.’”
I arched a brow. “Then they have misnamed it,” I muttered in the same language, earning a smile from the good professor. “Pardon me if I don’t reserve judgment, but there was nothing little about that.”
Edward smiled, indulging me. “You are correct. There was nothing little about that. You were magnificent, my dear. Responsive beyond my expectations.”
I rolled on my side to face him. “Beyond your expectations? You mean to say, it’s not like that every time?”
He arched a curious brow. “Hardly. I take it your other partners have not pleased you equally well.”
“Edward,” I said solemnly, “I’ve had no other partners. Remember, I asked you to teach me?”
He stared at me in disbelief, as if I were some strange creature, never before catalogued, that had wandered into his camp and made myself at home by his fire.
I attempted to lighten the mood. “If you’re going to make free with my body, then I reserve the right to ask questions. It’s only fair.”
He rolled onto his back and buried his face in his hands. “My God. What have I done?”
“Nothing that I did not want, or refuse to stop,” I told him. “I wanted to know what pleased you, and it was my choice to submit. Come, I’m not a child. Disregarding when your fingers fucked me senseless, of course, my eyes have been wide open.”
“That’s no excuse,” he grated. “You…you’re a virgin. You couldn’t know.”
“Edward. Edward. May I remind you that I had a brother with friends until the war divided them? And that I served three years in the company of men who loved to brag of their conquests and adventures? Admittedly, I can still be shocked—I mean, what the New Moneys want still boggles my imagination—but surely by now you’ve realized that I am no fragile Miss. Granted, I shall strive to be proper in company, but when it’s the two of us alone, in private, behind closed doors, well, eventually I hope to be as wicked as you want.”
He remained silent, processing, digesting what I’d said. He reached and brushed a finger against my cheek. “I promise you, I shall only take what you are willing to give.”
“And I shall strive to do the same,” I told him.
He tapped my chin and chuckled. “You shall, shall you?”
I knew, if lines were drawn, I would be compelled to try and cross them, but it was my intention to reciprocate. “Mmm, yes, indeed. Hard though it may be. You see, I’ve much catching up to do.”
“So you say.” Drawing a line down my throat, he kept going until he’d reached the top of my breast. I’d bound them, of course, when I was playing the man. Although there was little to be said for the comfort of corsetry (save for the ease it could bring to one’s aching back), I was pleased by the swell of my bosom, laced-up or not.
So was Edward. He asked no permission beyond the look he flicked my way, from breast, to face, and back again, signaling his intention as clearly as if he’d spoken it. Fingers spread, he cupped, then grasped my breast, pressing his palm against the dark rose of my nipple. The feel of his hand and the sound that came from his throat made my breath catch, escaping as a whimper.
“Ooh. Yes. Oh. Yeeessss.” I hissed, arching into his grasp.
“Do you like that, pet?” he murmured, fingers kneading my mound of flesh. “What about this?”
He ducked his head and opened his mouth to take me in, suckling me. I felt the cord connected to my womb, charged with sexual energy that electrified my core and made me tremble in his embrace. He sucked harder, lathing me with his tongue, catching the tip between his teeth and biting me—an erotic mix of pleasure and pain that made me acutely aware of the emptiness between my legs.
When I reached for his nearly-dry hair, intending to thread my fingers in his curls, he caught my wrist and pinned it to the mattress. “Leave it,” he ordered, “or I shall tie you up.”
The thought of being bound, helpless, at his mercy…well, what else could I do? I thrust ten fingers in his hair.
“Want to play, do you?” Growling, he grabbed my hands and brought my arms over my head, holding my smaller wrists in one large hand.
“I want you,” I said, grinding my hips against him. “Please, Edward.”
“No.” A sibilant whisper, followed by torment. He pinched my nipple and twisted it cruelly. Tears sprung in my eyes but he did not stop, not even when I begged him for mercy.
“No.” He brushed his lips against my cheeks and tasted tears. He bathed my face with his tongue, swallowing my cry when he squeezed my breast hard enough to bruise. He kissed me, then, claiming my mouth, every part of it, with lips and teeth and tangled tongues.
I whimpered in his mouth. It echoed, returning on a moan dredged up from the depths of his being. “Please, I beg you!”
“You beg me, hmm. For what?” he asked, knowing full well what I wanted.
“Your cock,” I gasped. “I want your cock.”
He released one of my hands and brought it down to his front, pressed my palm against his erection, and wrapped my fingers as far as they could reach around his girth.
“There,” he said, thrusting against my hand. “Happy?”
“No, Edward. Please! I want your cock inside me.”
He smiled darkly, his turquoise gaze fastened on my lips.
“Careful what you wish for, pet.”
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