“Wicked Lady”

by

Nia Farrell

WICKED LADY

by Nia Farrell

Copyright 2017 by Nia Farrell

Edited by Anita Quick

Cover Design by Crystal Visions

Stock Photography from pixabay.com

Formatting by Anita Quick

All rights reserved.  No part of this book may be reproduced or used without the written consent of the author, except for brief quotes in reviews.  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, or any other means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the copyright owner of this book. Such action is in violation of the U.S. Copyright Law.

Unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.

Release Date July 1, 2017

Length 5,147 words

ASIN: B072KFNBGD

Long Branch Books

Shattuc, Illinois

Disclaimers

This book is a work of fiction.  While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.  Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

The use of any real company, organization, and/or product names is for literary effect only.  All other trademarks and copyrights are the property of their respective owners.

Titles

by Nia Farrell

SOMETHING ELSE

(The Three Graces Book One)

SOMETHING DIFFERENT

(The Three Graces Book Two)

SOMETHING MORE

(The Three Graces Book Three)

Finalist, Best BDSM Book of the Year, Ménage Category,

2016 Golden Flogger Awards

THE THREE GRACES TRILOGY

SOMETHING SPECIAL

(The Three Graces Book Six—sequel to SOMETHING ELSE)

Nominated for Best Erotica and Best Romance,

2016 Summer Indie Book Awards

Winner, Favorite Audiobook,

EskieMama & Dragon Lady Reads Midyear Awards 2017

DARK MOONS RISING

REPLAY BOOK 1: VIKING RAID

Nominated for Best Erotica,

2016 Summer Indie Book Awards

AS WICKED AS YOU WANT

(FOREVER OURS BOOK 1)

Voted #1 Erotica and #10 overall,

The 50 Best Indie Books of 2016

Nominated for Best Historical, Best Erotica, and Best Romance,

2016 Summer Indie Book Awards

REPLAY BOOK 2: TRIPLE PLAY

REPLAY BOOK 3: HONOUR BOUND

REPLAY BOOK 4: HOOKED

Winner, Favorite Leading Lady,

2017 Our Book Stars Awards

REPLAY BOOK 5: NIGHT MUSIC

REPLAY BOOK 6: HIGHLAND FLING

Keeper—The Avenging Angels MC Introduction

Find Her

(Avenging Angels MC Book 1)

Titles

by Nia Farrell and Jane Austen

PRIDE AND PUNISHMENT

An Erotic Retelling of Jane Austen’s Beloved Classic

Voted Best Historical Romance,

2017 Ménage Romance Readers Favorites

Nominated for Best Historical, Best Erotica, and Best Romance, 2016 Summer Indie Book Awards

and by Nia Farrell writing as Erinn Ellender Quinn

RIDE THE WIND

TOUCH THE WIND

REAP THE WIND

DARE THE WIND

Winners, Favorite Historical Heroine

and Favorite Historical Hero,

EskieMama & Dragon Lady Reads

Midyear Awards 2017

DEDICATION

To my genealogist aunts and great-aunts on both sides of my family who taught me to view history through lenses of personal experience.  Seeing through the eyes of my characters helps to bring the past to life.

~ Nia

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Author Bio and Links

Previous Releases

Chapter One

Hertfordshire, England

Friday May 1, 1676

From behind her mask, Lady Catherine Fanshawe scanned the crowded ballroom, guessing at identities, judging costumes, and—last but far from least—apprizing wealth.  Married at fifteen and widowed soon after, she had a rare independence but had been left without the means to support it.  Driven by desperation and inspired by her namesake, she had decided to emulate the female highwayman that Katherine Ferrers Fanshawe was believed to have been, God rest her troubled soul.

Tonight, the “Wicked Lady” would ride once more.

Catherine had chosen to target the masked Beltane Ball because of one man said to be attending.  Lord Leighton was a scandalous bounder, handsome as sin, and rich as Croesus.  With King Charles’s ear and a similar lack of moral compass, rumors that he had second pick of the willing females—single and married—in the Merry Monarch’s court were very likely true.

He was also bloody late.

Not that he would notice her when he came.  She had purposefully dressed to discourage masculine attention.  Her mannish riding outfit covered those feminine attributes so amply displayed by the other female attendees.  Mistress Beauchamp’s pendulous breasts made her easy to name despite the full mask that she wore.

A half-hour passed, and another, before Lord Leighton deigned to grace the residents of Hertfordshire with his presence.  From the moment he entered the room, sans mask, he commanded it.  A queue formed, comprised of lesser men willing to pay homage and women who were simply willing.  She curled her lip to see what fools Lord Leighton had made of them.  Really, where was their pride?

She could only take so much.  Tired of the groveling, disgusted with watching the women titter and preen, Catherine plucked up a glass of wine and blended into the shadows.

“May I join you?”

The masculine voice made Catherine bolt awake.  “Judas!” she snapped, wondering how it was possible to fall asleep standing.  Evidently she’d been holding up a wall before he came.

Used to the darkness, she had no problem identifying her interloper.  What the devil was Lord Leighton doing here, with her?  “Pardon me, but I would prefer not.  I cherish the quiet, and you, sir, attract chaos.”

He shrugged a shoulder and crooked a smile, white teeth gleaming below his neatly trimmed moustache.  She had thought, from a distance, that he wore a fine wig.  This close, she realized the long, chestnut curls were his own.  His eyes were an unusual shade of blue, pale like a wolf’s.

How fitting.

“That is God’s truth.”  He sighed and leaned his back against the wall anyway.

Damn him.  He’d ruined it.  And if he would not go, she should not stay.  She could not risk recognition, if she were to proceed with her plans.

Catherine pushed off the wall and straightened, intent on escape.  Quick as a snake, he reached out and caught her arm, pulling her back into place.

“Stay,” he whispered, his voice oddly pleading.  If she found it strangely satisfying, how much better would it be to hear him beg?  “Please.  You know not how welcome is the change, having someone who wants nothing from you.”

She nearly smiled.  He had no clue of what she wanted, what she would demand.

Catherine peeled his fingers from her forearm and tossed his hand aside.  “Just keep your distance, and you may stay.  Touch me again, and you shall suffer for it.”

“Oh, ho!”  He chuckled.  “The lady has claws.”

“And teeth and tongue, and a knee that, well-placed, has sent as big a man to the floor.  My brothers made certain I could defend myself, even when the restoration of the king made such attacks unlikely.”

He nodded his approval.  “A Royalist, then.”

“Mayhap.  Perhaps not.”  She’d already said too much with the mention of her brothers.  She refused to say anything more.

Lord Leighton fell blessedly silent.

Eventually he was discovered, of course, and was forced by societal conventions to return to the fold, a wolf amongst sheep.  He danced with some, flirted with countless more, casting an occasional look into the darkness where she stood as witness to his mastery of others.

Let him have them.

He would never master her.

Chapter Two

To James Devereaux, the current Lord Leighton, it seemed as if the evening would never end.  He had dreaded attending the rustic ball—only his King could have made him go—but he’d nearly thought the evening salvageable when he’d spied her.

A woman watching from the shadows, her heart-shaped face obscured by the simplest of masks, her body hidden beneath her clothes.  On closer inspection, he had noted she was dressed to ride.

He had hoped it would be his cock.

But, alas, she would not have him.  Her loss, to be sure.  And his, he suspected.  She had spirit, and bravado, however false it might be.  She’d refused to let him close, and now he could not free himself of her memory.  He was quickly finding himself obsessed, wondering who she was.  What she was.

A lonely wife?  The more fool her husband.

A rare bird who refused to be trapped in a marriage and caged?  Mayhap.

Then again, she could be a widow still grieving…or perhaps she was celebrating his loss?

No matter.  His mystery woman belonged to the wilds of Hertfordshire.  He belonged in the halls of the palace—so much so, he had ordered his coach to drive through the night to get back.

Mellowed by wine, James settled in for the journey.  Finding the pillows that he used for such occasions to lessen the jolt of the wheels, he cushioned his head and shoulder and closed his eyes, drifting into an uneasy slumber, haunted by memories of the one who had slipped away.

As if his dreams were not exasperating enough, his sleep was rudely, abruptly interrupted when the carriage stuttered to a halt.  He reached for the door, only to have it jerked open and flung wide.  Three days past the fullness of the moon, there was more than enough light to see the end of the pistol aimed at his chest, a gloved hand, a dark cape, a highwayman’s mask.

A robbery.

“Do you know who I am?” he demanded.  “How dare you accost an officer of the King!”

A small shoulder shrugged.  “You came from dust. To dust thou shalt return, milord,” rasped the voice, disguised as clearly as the brigand before him.  “Unless you wish it sooner than later, you would do well to stand and deliver.  One way or another, I will have what is yours.”

Impudent slug!  Armed only with pistol holding a single shot.  Odds were in his favor that he could make him miss.  Overpower him.  Rip off that disguise and discover the face of one destined for the hangman’s noose.  But he needed to see if there were others.  Make certain that his driver was unharmed.  For now, he must obey.

James felt the seat across from him, opened the chest, and drew out only the purse, leaving the rest of his treasury untouched.  With luck, the highwayman would assume it held all his monies and be gone.  With better luck, he would find a way to wrest it back.

“Here.”  He tossed it deliberately high, hoping the brigand would attempt to catch it.  But the outlaw saw through his ploy to distract the aim of his pistol and let it fall to the ground.

“Now, now.  I thought you brighter than that.  For underestimating me, I fear that you must pay more, milord.  Driver!  Come down and make yourself useful.”

The highwayman’s steed was at his back, kept close to make a swift escape.  Keeping the pistol trained on his chest, he felt blindly with the other hand, found several coils of rope, and pulled one of them free.  He pointed to a nearby tree.

“Lord Leighton, you shall sit on the ground, with legs straight before you and your back flush against the tree.  Driver, you shall tie him to it.  Do it well, or both of you will suffer the consequences.”

Though it went against his nature, James obeyed, sitting against the tree while Saunders bound him to it.  He puffed his chest, of course, to give the appearance of snugness when tested, hoping it might make the difference and aid in his escape.

The brigand had Saunders hobble the horses, then make a slip knot to bind his wrists, ordering him to thread the rope through the front wheel on the far side of the carriage.  Taking up the slack in the rope, the highwayman had his driver trussed in short order.

The brigand entered the carriage and emerged with a pillow and his chest.  The wooden box and his purse disappeared into a bag hung from the saddle.  The pillow came to where he sat, bound and seething.

Setting his pistol aside, the highwayman pulled James’s feet apart, dropped the pillow between his thighs, and knelt between his knees.

“Wh-What do you think you are doing?” he croaked, unable to accept what was happening.

“I said I would have what is yours.  Time to pay the piper, milord.”

“But—but you cannot force a man!” he cried.  “It is not possible!”

The brigand grabbed his cock through his breeches and ministered to it.  “Then you must want this too,” he murmured, “else why would your rod rise in my hand?  I promise to be gentle.  I take it this is your first time, not having control?  Frightening, is it not?  And yet how many women experience it daily?   Bound by marriage.  Bound by society.  At the mercy of those in power, whether a lawful husband or the confidant of a king.  How many women have you taken, who believed they must perform for you, simply because you wished it?”

The highwayman rose abruptly.  Balancing on one leg, he pulled off a boot, then the other.  His stockings stayed on but beneath the folds of his cape, his breeches fell down.  James sucked in his chest and worked the knot wildly, desperate to deny what the brigand had in mind.

He pulled the pillow to his side and sat himself upon it.  One gloved hand reached over and touched him.  His traitorous cock swelled in response.

Two hands made quick work of his buttons, freeing his length in the cool midnight air.  The leather-clad fingers wrapped around his girth and stroked it, bringing it fully erect.

Dear God.

He prayed as he had not in years.  Prayed for deliverance.  Prayed for escape.  Vowed that he would never again approach a woman unless she was more than willing to submit to him.

And then it happened.  A shift of weight, the cape parting, the unmistakable smell of feminine arousal.

The highwayman was no man at all.

Thank you, Jesus.

Female she may be, but she was still a thief bent on robbing him of his money and his dignity.  Whatever it took, he would not let her go unpunished, even if he took the law into his own hands and exacted retribution.

He continued working on the knot, no longer as concerned about how soon it came undone.  The game had changed, now that he knew.  Yes, he supposed he was that shallow, but coupling with this masked lady would at least assuage the hunger he’d felt since the ball.

She pulled off her gloves, thrust a hand between her legs, wet it with her juices, and smeared them on his cock.  “Are you ready for me, milord?” she rasped.  “I do hope so.”

The next thing he knew, she planted her feet by his hips, bent her knees, and impaled herself on his rod.  No small task, that.  She worked his length inside her, using him like a dildo, a tool for her pleasure, with no thought to his own.

But, dear Lord, she felt like heaven.  Unbelievably tight and incredibly wet.  If she’d been at court, the King would have made her his mistress, and James would never have known the perfection of her form.  He got glimpses of it as the cape parted and closed, shifting with her movements, revealing less, then more in turn.  What he would not give for the tables to be turned, to have her bound and writhing beneath him, her arse red from the heat of his hand, her mouth swollen from his use!

He groaned, thinking about it.

“Yes,” she breathed, raising up and slamming down on him.  “That’s it.  Give it to me.  Give it!”

She took one hand from his shoulder and burrowed it beneath her cape, finding her pearl and cherishing it.  Her breath quickened, deepened.  She panted, fanning her fingers, until she suddenly stiffened and heaved, climaxing, her walls tightening around him, spasms gripping, rippling, milking his length.

And then, nothing.

No no no!

She dismounted and left him with no more thought than she would give a horse gently ridden.  Except there had been nothing gentle about her claiming, and no release had he found.

Of all the things she could have done, that was the worst.  To be teased, stimulated, fully aroused, to be used to her satisfaction and be denied his.  Whatever she stole from him would be would be nothing to the pounds he would take from her flesh, the next time that they met.

And they would meet again.

He would not rest until he found her.

Chapter Three

London, England

Saturday, October 31, 1676

Catherine adjusted her jeweled and feathered mask and waited her turn to be announced at the King’s ball.  She’d been summoned to Court—or rather Lady Donnelly had been ordered to appear before King Charles earlier today and make her obeisance.  Her late cousin William’s allegiance to Cromwell had called the whole family’s loyalty into question.  Now she must appease.

Damn William.

And damn Lord Leighton.

She would see him.  She was certain of it.  He was the King’s confidant, his bosom friend.  The King kept him on a tight leash, allowing him only brief sojourns elsewhere.

Hertfordshire had been one.

Despite herself, she felt her body quicken at the memory of how he had looked, bound and at her mercy.  And how he had felt, when she slid down on that magnificent cock of his, rampant against the hair-dusted plane of his belly.  She’d ached for days.

She still ached for it.  Perhaps they could…?

No!  No!

She must do her best to avoid Lord Leighton.  Her very life might well depend on it.

The thought had scarcely been formed when he came into view, looking resplendent in his pale blue embroidered coat, matching vest, and closed knee breeches.  Stockings hugged the sculpted muscles of his legs, and the heels on his shoes added another two inches to his already formidable height.

She had forgotten how tall he was.

Of course, the last time she had seen him, he’d been tied to a tree with his own wood bobbing in the midnight air.

The announcement of her name snapped her from her reverie back to the present.  She entered the assembly, escorted by her only surviving sibling, her fifteen-year-old half-brother Lawrence. Three years her junior, it was his first time in London.  His first time at Court.  His nerves were enough to set hers on edge.

Like everyone else, they were presented to the King in turn.  Made to stand and wait.  Obliged to dance and drink.  She had no lack of partners.  Neither did Lawrence, wearing a rakish half-mask.  One pretty girl who played the kitten seemed to especially capture his interest.  Catherine did not know whether to be discomfited or amused that Lawrence might well leave here a man.

“He’s in good hands.”

A familiar voice rumbled in her ear, causing a riot of gooseflesh to dimple Catherine’s skin.  She shivered from the chill on her soul, vestiges of the guilt she bore for what she had done that night.  Desperation had driven her, but the cost had been her soul.

“Lord Leighton,” she acknowledged him, then said no more.  Shades of the masked ball where they had met.

“You need not worry about your brother.  He is in good hands.  Mistress Mary is young, experienced, free of pox, and possesses the knowledge to see his time well spent.  Unlike myself on a recent trip to Hertfordshire.  While conducting the King’s business, my coach was stopped.  I was robbed and accosted.  Tied to a tree and left to perish, for all the bandit knew.  It took the better part of an hour to work myself free.”

He leaned to whisper in her ear.  “Tell me.  Was the pistol even loaded?”

Oh, God.

Catherine’s knees threatened to buckle.  A violent tremor shook her frame.

“No,” she croaked.  “I am sorry.”  She did not know what else to say.

One large hand closed over her shoulder and squeezed it menacingly.  “If you are not, you shall be.  Come, Wicked Lady.  It is time to pay the piper.”

Chapter Four

Lady Donnelly did not protest when James took her arm and bade her accompany him to somewhere more private where they could…talk.

Both of them knew there would be little of that—at least in the near future.

Alone in his private chamber, he took an inordinate amount of pleasure in the way she trembled before him.  She should be frightened.  Her fate was in his hands.

“Nice mask,” James remarked.  “Much nicer than the plain one you wore in Hertfordshire.  Purchased with my coin, no doubt.  Take it off.”

Her hands shook as she did so, revealing a pert nose and smooth cheeks.  Her pale complexion contrasted sharply with her ebony hair and emerald eyes.  Framed with a thick brush of absurdly long lashes, they were stunning to behold.

“And the dress.”

She blinked, hard.  “What?”

James’s smile held no humor.  “You heard me.  The dress.  I know damned well it was purchased with my coin, too.  Be glad I do not choose to strip your brother, or make him privy to your shame.  Test me, and you will not be the only one who pays the price for treason.”

“Treason?!  But—”

“When you accost an officer of the King, you attack your sovereign.  Did you think that there would be no repercussion for your crimes against me?  Fortunately for you, Charles has agreed to let me handle this myself.  Now, I can order a hanging, but I have much more appealing uses for rope.  Your choice,” he said simply.  “Be taken, naked, to the Tower or submit freely to me.  Tell me, which is it to be?”

“I have no choice,” she whispered, her voice thick with unshed tears.  He’d remedy that soon enough.

“Nor did I,” he reminded her curtly.  “Your dress is still on.”

“I am sorry.  I need help, Sir.  Without a maid, I am afraid that I must beg your assistance.”

James used his considerable experience to dispense with her dress and underpinnings, leaving her clad only in her shoes and stockings, corset and chemise.  He circled her, judging her attributes with a critical eye and finding himself well pleased.  She was healthy, at least, with a soft curve to her belly, enough hips to hold onto, and creamy breasts that swelled above her stays.  With her height a good foot shorter than his, it would make for some interesting dynamics when he took her to bed.

He went to sit upon it.  “You shall lie across my lap with your head here and your arse here.”  He pointed to each in turn.  “I am going to spank you, blister that bottom of yours. You will keep count, and thank me for each blow.  Lose track, and we begin again.  You are not to speak otherwise.  When you are allowed to do so, in private, you will call me Master.  Nod if you understand.”

Mortification stained her cheeks.  She jerked her head and wrung her hands.

“Good.  You are intelligent, if unwise.  We shall see how biddable you are.  Now come.”

She approached him with as much eagerness as a convict did a hanging tree.  Stopping by his knee, she bent over it, settled herself, and waited for him to begin.

James grabbed a handful of soft, fine linen and pulled up the back of her chemise, not stopping until the fabric was bunched above her waist and her bottom was bared.  And what a lovely bottom it was.  He palmed each cheek in turn, squeezing, molding, warming the tissue, preparing her for what was to come.  She stifled a moan and clenched her thighs.  He could smell her arousal.

His Wicked Lady was proving a lusty wench.

Smack!

“One,” she gasped.  “Thank you, Master.”

Smack!  A matching strike on the other side.

“Two.  Thank you, Master.”

He kept going, alternating sides, keeping his strikes on the fleshy globes of her buttocks.  The flesh pinkened, then reddened, as she counted the cost.  He did not stop until she had dissolved into tears, gulping breaths between her choked responses, and her nether lips were swollen and slick with dew.

James thrust two fingers into her breach, pumped his hand, and pulled it out, licking his fingers and tasting her essence.  Delicious.  She moaned, no doubt feeling the emptiness and aching to be filled.

Not yet.

He pushed her off his lap and let her crumple on the floor.  “Kneel,” he rumbled, reaching to open his breeches.  “I am going to fuck your mouth.  If you know what’s best, you shall keep your teeth away and your claws sheathed—and you shall swallow anything that I choose to give you.  Nod if you understand.”

The dark head bobbed.

“Have you done this before?  Taken a man in your mouth?”  He had discovered too little on her late husband to know his true measure as a man, let alone a sexual partner.  “You may answer me.”

She pushed herself up, keeping her eyes down, never raising her gaze above his chest.  “No, Master.”

For some reason, that pleased him, to learn he would be her first.  “I shall teach you,” he said, taking out his cock and stroking it fully erect.  “Show you how to give the greatest pleasure.  There are sensitive spots here, here, and here.”  He pointed to the base of his shaft, the whole of the crown, and the place underneath that could bring a man to his knees.  “The rim and the first few inches are the most sensitive.  You shall learn to take me down your throat—oh, yes, you shall do that, too.  Use your tongue to tempt and tease, the suction of your mouth to bring me to a satisfying end.  Swallow my seed, and I shall reward you.  Fail in any of this, and you shall suffer the consequences.  Now, begin.”

James fisted her hair and guided her to him, pushing his way between her lips and relishing the feel of her mouth and tongue.  He forged deeper, his glans rubbing against the ridges of her palate, pushing against the back of her throat.  She fought not to gag.

He drew back a little.  “Suck,” he ordered.  She obeyed, cheeks hollowing with her efforts.  He grabbed his sac and squeezed his testes, jacked his hips and deepened his strokes.  He fucked her face, pleased with her first efforts.  Feeling his balls draw up and his cock swell, he growled a warning.  “Get ready.  Here it comes.”

James exploded, pouring himself into the warmth of her mouth as she fought to swallow the volume.  When he had finished using her, he let go of her hair and let her sit back on her heels.  Her green eyes were tear-smacked, her nose red, and her lips swollen.

Beautiful.

Her eyes widened when he grabbed her biceps, hauled her to her feet, and tossed her onto the bed.  He stripped her, bound her, spread her wide and secured her wrists and ankles to the four corners of his world.  Here, in this room, he was king.  He was her sovereign.  Lady Donnelly was here to serve his will and be the receptacle for his lust.  His to do with as he pleased.  To discard or to keep.

Power was intoxicating.  More so, when he could see her fear and smell her arousal.  He thrust two fingers into her slit and pumped until she climaxed.

Shedding his clothes, he climbed onto the end of the bed and crawled up her body, dragging his chest on her front, letting his thatch of hair abrade that incredible skin of hers, sensitizing her breasts, and teasing her nipples into tight, hard buds.  He took one in his teeth and plucked it, making her body arch and writhe beneath him.

Taking himself in hand, he parted her folds and found her opening, notched his head, and thrust inside, a primal claiming that tore a cry from her throat from the sheer force of it.  He pulled back and thrust again, just as hard, just as deep, hips flexing, finding his rhythm and maintaining it.  She was as perfect as he remembered.  Tight.  Wet.  Responsive to his touch and willing to do anything he wished.

Nothing was sacrosanct.  Everything was within his grasp.  The only limits were his imagination and the whim of mercy that would eventually surface, when she reached her breaking point, if not before.

He took her like a beast, driving deep, claiming her body inside and out, marking it with his teeth.  He forced orgasm after orgasm from her, craving the way her body tightened around him, gripping his length and milking it.  Sweat poured from his flesh, dripping onto her and running down her sides.  He was close, so close.

He wrapped his fingers around her throat, smiling darkly when she looked at him, wide eyed and innocent compared to his degenerate self.  “Do you trust me?” he asked, tightening his hold.  Panic flashed, then faded.  A strange calm came over her as she accepted her fate and released the last of her resistance, submitting herself fully to his will.

“Yes, Master.”

Pounding into her, he felt her body’s response and squeezed her throat.  Her body seized beneath him, locked in the throes of ecstasy while he climaxed, pouring himself into her while the waves crashed around him, her orgasm intensified by the lack of air.  As soon as she lost consciousness, he released his hold but continued to fuck her, eventually bringing her back to full awareness with their coupling.

“Ah, pet,” he murmured, raising himself on his fists so that they were joined only at one point.  “You’ve done well.  Just one more place to claim, and then you shall be mine.”

She didn’t understand.  No matter.  She would know soon enough.

Chapter Five

James left her with great reluctance, pulling out and returning with a vial of his favorite oil.  He untied her ankles and scooted her up, until there was enough slack in the rope to turn her onto her stomach.  She was lovely, with her bound wrists crossed above her head and a crimson blush on her bottom. 

James slickened his length, then reached for her star, lubricating the path he would blaze.  He teased her with one finger, stretched her out with two, then three, making certain that she could handle what he was about to give.

She moaned, whimpered, inhaled sharply, then forgot to breathe altogether.  He tapped her anus with his cock, then pressed against it.  “Push back against me to open your door and let me in,” he instructed.  “Whatever you do, do not resist.  Tightening up will make this less than pleasant.  Relax, and you shall find pleasure, I swear it.”

And there it was, Mercy rearing its ugly head.  Ignoring it, he pushed his way inside, making her gasp, then grunt between clenched teeth as he forced his way past the first ring and the second.  Once he’d gained her passage, he was free to dig in deep.

He tunneled into her, warm walls clinging to him like potter’s clay.  Uncertain of her role, she yielded to his mastery and let him use her thusly, the object of his dark passion, feeding his hunger with each muffled cry and panting breath.  He picked up the pace, driving into her, relentless as the storm-driven sea, feeling the tide rise within her, and his body’s answering swell.  He crashed against her like waves against rocks, battering her.  Thrusting one hand beneath her, he shoved two fingers into her cunny and pressed against her clitoris, demanding her response.  She gave it, crying out with the force of her climax, which was almost as intense as when he’d denied her breath.

He freed her wrists and turned with her, still joined, his manhood slow to shrink.  Only when he was flaccid did he pull free of her body.  Even then, he did not let her go.

She fell asleep, poor thing, exhausted from his demands.  The quietude allowed him needed time to think, to review what he had learned, and decide what was to be done with her.  He understood what had driven her to robbery—not that he excused it, but she had used his coin to pay the taxes on the estate that she had inherited, an attempt to save it for generations yet to come…except she had no husband, no suitor, not much of a life, really.  Just a brother and servants who depended upon her to provide for them.  Tenants whose livelihood had suffered with her own.  She was not frivolous.  True, she had parted with some money to come to Court, but had spent no more than was required.

In her dealings with her household and estate, she had demonstrated bravery, loyalty, compassion, and intelligence.  Her wisdom was yet up for debate, but he supposed he could do worse for a wife.

James went still, wondering where the hell that thought came from.  It was insidious, taking hold, making him argue with himself, why it was the worst possible thing he could do.  And yet…

He looked at the raven-haired beauty in his arms.  Noble born with all the passion of a seasoned courtesan and willing to submit to his every dark, decadent desire.  Try as he might, he could not name another who had pleased him so well.

Charles would laugh and try to dissuade.  His friends would claim that he’d gone mad.  But this woman had rejected him, robbed him, ridden him, and driven him to discover who was behind the mask.

Now that he knew Catherine Fanshawe was indeed the Wicked Lady, he planned to give her every opportunity to live up to her name.

Author’s Biography

Nia Farrell is the author of one of The 50 Best Indie Books of 2016, a 2016 Golden Flogger Finalist, and a founding member of the Wicked Pens.  A multi-genre writer published in nonfiction, poetry, music, articles, and children’s books, with one documentary screenplay under her literary belt, she’s an old soul and a period reenactor who’s been into corsets for centuries, although she wears them more to Civil War events these days.

Nia has been involved in the metaphysical community for over twenty-five years.  She is a Reiki Master and crystal healer whose work encompasses this and other lifetimes.  In her book Something More, BDSM and submission are tools for healing post-rape PTSD, earning a nomination for Best BDSM Book of the Year, Ménage Category, in the 2016 Golden Flogger Awards.

Her debut books from The Three Graces series, Something Else, Something Different, and Something More, are kink with a paranormal twist.  Soul mates, reincarnation, karmic fallout, shamanism, and psychic abilities come into play.  Personal experience and extensive research go into crafting her characters, but it’s her sense of whimsy that has made fictional Posey, Minnesota, the ménage capital of the United States, with a Monty-Python-inspired diner that’s central to the plotlines.

Nia was fortunate enough to meet her soul mate early on.  She married her high school sweetheart, raised two children, and began writing at her husband’s suggestion.  She has been published in erotic romance since 2015.

AUTHOR LINKS

Nia Farrell & Erinn Ellender Quinn’s webpage

http://bit.ly/NiaErinnWP

Nia Farrell’s Facebook author page

http://bit.ly/NiaFarrellFB

Farrell’s Foxes, Nia Farrell’s Street Team page

https://www.facebook.com/farrellsfoxes

Nia Farrell’s Amazon author page

http://viewauthor.at/NiaFarrell

Nia Farrell’s Goodreads author page

http://goodreads.com/Nia_Farrell

Nia Farrell’s author page at Kinky Literature

http://bit.ly/NiaFarrellKL

Nia Farrell’s Wicked Pens author page

http://bit.ly/WPenNia

Nia Farrell on Tumblr

http://authorniafarrell.tumblr.com/

Nia Farrell on Twitter

https://twitter.com/AuthrNiaFarrell

Nia Farrell on Pinterest

http://bit.ly/NiaFarrellPins

Nia Farrell on Google+

http://bit.ly/NiaFarrellGplus

Nia Farrell on YouTube

http://bit.ly/NiaFarrellYouTube

WRITING AS ERINN ELLENDER QUINN

Erinn Ellender Quinn’s Amazon author page

http://viewAuthor.at/EEQuinn

Erinn Ellender Quinn’s Goodreads author page

http://bit.ly/EEQuinnGoodreads

Erinn Ellender Quinn’s Facebook author page

http://bit.ly/EEQuinnFacebook

Erinn Ellender Quinn’s Wicked Pens author page

http://bit.ly/WPenEEQ

Erinn Ellender Quinn on Twitter

https://twitter.com/ErinnEQuinn

NIA FARRELL TITLES

Something Else (The Three Graces Book One).  Three soulmates forge a future from the flames of their pasts in an interracial New Age New Adult MMF ménage BDSM erotic romance.  “It’s part paranormal, part BDSM, part love story, but all good.”  Released August 25, 2015.  Length 17,872 words.

Teasers and excerpt at http://bit.ly/SomethingElseWP

Amazon buy link http://mybook.to/TG1

Something Different (The Three Graces Book Two).  Starving artist Anna James has sworn off men.  Rock gods Jackson and Jacob Thomason just promised her the best sex of her life.  Does Anna dare submit to the part-Comanche twins who perform as No Mercy?  Released September 29, 2015.  Length 17,235 words.

Teasers and except at http://bit.ly/SomethingDifferentWP

Amazon buy link http://mybook.to/TG2

Something More (The Three Graces Book Three) Finalist for Best BDSM Book of the Year, Ménage Category, 2016 Golden Flogger Awards.  Rachel Givens is supposed to be dead.  She has post-rape PTSD and a three-year-old autistic daughter, father unknown.  When her former lovers—a biker and a porn star—walk into the restaurant where she works, this single mother learns just how much more she can handle.  Release October 15, 2015.  Length 18,613 words.

Teasers and excerpt http://bit.ly/SomethingMoreWP

Amazon buy link http://mybook.to/TG3

The Three Graces Trilogy (paperback) includes Something Else, Something Different, and Something More.  Welcome to fictional Posey, Minnesota, the ménage capital of the USA and home of the Three Graces—three young women whose names all mean “Grace.”  Three women.  Six men.  Things are about to get interesting.  Released April 2, 2016.  Length 230 6x9 pages.

Amazon buy link http://mybook.to/TGr

Something Special (The Three Graces Book Six—the sequel to Something Else).  When morning sickness hits the house, a Dominant veteran with PTSD and an American Indian musician propose to give their psychic submissive a very special honeymoon.  They’re giving Grace the capture fantasy of her dreams at Replay, a BDSM theme resort where patrons role play in the past.  Released May 5, 2016.  Length 21,578 words/105 5x8 pages. 

Nominated Best Erotica and Best Romance, 2016 Summer Indie Book Awards. Winner, Favorite Audiobook, EskieMama & Dragon Lady Reads Midyear Awards, 2016.

Teasers and excerpt at http://bit.ly/TG6WP

Amazon e-book buy link http://mybook.to/TG6

Amazon paperback buy link http://mybook.to/TG6p

Audiobook buy link http://mybook.to/TG6a

Dark Moons Rising.  On the most dangerous night of the year, a daughter of light finds unexpected sanctuary with two dark lords, handsome as men, stunning as centaurs.  An otherworldly sword-and-sorcery paranormal shifter ménage erotic romance novelette.  Released March 10, 2016.  Length 9,210 words.

Teasers and excerpt http://bit.ly/DMRWP

Amazon e-book buy link http://mybook.to/DMR

Amazon paperback http://mybook.to/DMRp

As Wicked as You Want (Forever Ours Book One).  It’s a past life for The Three Grace’s Nico, J.T., and Grace, a Victorian erotic romance BDSM MMF ménage with a bisexual British history professor, his American stepsister who’s been living as a man since serving in the Civil War, and her Irish messmate who serves as apprentice in her art studio and who has been fighting his attraction to “Lane.”  Released August 1, 2016.  Length 155,467 words / 609 pages.

Voted #1 Erotica and #10 overall, The 50 Best Indie Books of 2016. Nominated Best Erotica, Best Historical, and Best Romance, 2016 Summer Indie Book Awards.

Teasers and excerpt  http://bit.ly/AWAYWWP

Amazon e-book http://mybook.to/FO1

Paperback http://mybook.to/FO1p

Audio excerpt, read by the author

http://bit.ly/WickedAuthorReadsYT

“Pride and Punishment meets 50 Shades of Grey” in Pride and Punishment – An Erotic Retelling of Jane Austen’s Beloved Classic by Nia Farrell and Jane Austen. A Dominant Mr. Darcy must find a way to win the submissive heart of a woman who abhors him.

Released June 1, 2016.  Length 91,133 words/344 pages.

Voted Best Historical Romance, 2017 Ménage Romance Readers Favorites.  Nominated Best Erotica, Best Historical, and Best Romance, 2016 Summer Indie Book awards.

Teasers and excerpt at http://bit.ly/PunishWP

Amazon e-book buy link http://mybook.to/Punish

Amazon paperback buy link http://mybook.to/Punishp

Amazon Large Print buy link http://mybook.to/Punishlg

Gift shop http://www.cafepress.com/prideandpunishment

Replay Book 1: VIKING RAID.  A curious virgin makes Replay resort’s Viking Dom an offer he can’t refuse.  Released July 1, 2016.  Length 20,051 words/99 pages.

Nominated Best Erotica, 2016 Summer Indie Book Awards.

Teasers and excerpt at http://bit.ly/RB1WP

Amazon e-book http://mybook.to/RB1

Paperback http://mybook.to/RB1p

Replay Book 2: TRIPLE PLAY.  A celibate sex addict meets a Scottish Dominant who’s determined to be the exception to her rules.  Released September 1, 2016.  Length 20,232 words / 100 pages.

Teasers and excerpt http://bit.ly/RB2WP

Amazon e-book http://mybook.to/RB2

Paperback http://mybook.to/RB2p

Replay Book 3: HONOUR BOUND.  A psychologist interested in BDSM experiences it first-hand with the owner of Replay resort.  Released November 1, 2016.  Length 19,946 words / 97 pages.

Teasers and excerpt http://bit.ly/Replay3WP

Amazon e-book http://mybook.to/RB3

Paperback http://mybook.to/RB3p

Replay Book 4: HOOKED.  During pirate weekend, a curious librarian explores BDSM with a Dominant veteran amputee.  Released January 1, 2017.  Length 21,950 words/ 121 pages. 

Winner, Favorite Leading Lady, 2017 Our Book Stars Awards

Teasers and Excerpts http://bit.ly/Replay4WP

Amazon e-book http://mybook.to/RB4

Paperback http://mybook.to/RB4p

AUDIOBOOK COMING SOON!

Replay Book 5: NIGHT MUSIC.  In an updated version of Cyrano de Bergerac, bisexual Replay resort psychiatrist Sir Josef plays matchmaker with a blind concert pianist and her mentor and falls for them both.  A MMF ménage.  Released March 1, 2017.  Length 19,438 words / 104 pages

Teasers and Excerpts at http://bit.ly/RB5WP

Amazon e-book http://mybook.to/RB5

Paperback http://mybook.to/RB5p

Replay Book 6: HIGHLAND FLING.  During a special music weekend at Replay resort, a former ballerina must choose between two Dominants.  Released May 1, 2017.  Length 20,081 words.

Teasers and Excerpt http://bit.ly/RB6HighlandFling

Amazon e-book http://mybook.to/RB6

Keeper—The Avenging Angels MC Introduction.  Isabella Castellari is rescued from a roadside breakdown by Luke “Mad Dog” McLanahan, Vice President of the Avenging Angels MC.  He takes her to the clubhouse, but it’s his rules, his way, if she chooses to stay.  Released June 1, 2017.  Length 2,724 words.  Includes a free sneak peak at Find Her—Avenging Angels Book 1.

Trailer http://bit.ly/AAMCKeeperTrailer

Teasers and Excerpt: http://bit.ly/AAMCintroWP

Amazon e-book http://mybook.to/AAMCintro

Find Her (Avenging Angels MC Book 1).  Rose McLanahan is the daughter of the Avenging Angels MC president and younger sister to four of its members. When she’s rescued from a rival gang, her oldest brother’s best friend is entrusted to take her where the Blackwater Demons MC won’t find her.  Michael O’Flaherty has known the Angels’ princess since she was born, but alone in the Angels’ safehouse, Dominant Michael and submissive Rose will finally discover each other.

Teasers and Excerpt http://bit.lu/AAMC1WP

Amazon e-book http://mybook.to/AAMC1

Touch the Wind (Touch the Wind Book One) by Nia Farrell writing as Erinn Ellender Quinn.  Christiana Delacorte has loved Justin Vallé since her misspent youth, sailing disguised as a boy.  When she hires the French privateer to rescue her father, she’s delighted that his price includes her presence in his bed.  The first of a swashbuckling series set in the 1720s Caribbean.  Released December 1, 2016.  Length 91,354 words.

Teasers and excerpt http://bit.ly/TW1WP

Amazon e-book http://mybook.to/TW1

Ride the Wind (Touch the Wind Book Two) by Nia Farrell writing as Erinn Ellender Quinn.  Set in the same year the last witch burned in Scotland, indentured servant and Wiccan healer Beth Gordon risks her life to save her master, Irish sea captain Ian O’Malley, a man with dark secrets of his own.  A paranormal historical erotic romance.  Released October 1, 2016.  Length 70,059 words / 244 pages.

Teasers and excerpt at http://bit.ly/TW2WP

Amazon e-book http://mybook.to/TW2

Paperback http://mybook.to/TW2p

Reap the Wind (Touch the Wind Book 3) by Nia Farrell writing as Erinn Ellender Quinn.  A vicar’s unconventional daughter meets her match in the son of a Spanish spy.  Release Date February 1, 2017.  Length 67,087 words.

Teasers and Excerpt http://bit.ly/TW3ReapWP

Amazon e-book link http://mybook.to/TW3

Dare the Wind (Touch the Wind Book 4) Dare the Wind (Touch the Wind Book 4) by Nia Farrell writing as Erinn Ellender Quinn.  Release Date April 1, 2017.  Length 67,703 words / 245 pages.  Irish Captain Tristan O’Dea finds passion on the high seas with his commander’s widowed half-sister, free-thinking musician and composer Jessenia Bougeureau.

Winners, Favorite Historical Hero (Tristan O’Dea) and Favorite Historical Heroine (Jessenia Bougeureau), EskieMama & Dragon Lady Reads Midyear Awards, 2017.

Teasers and Excerpt at http://bit.ly/TW4WordPress

Amazon e-book http://mybook.to/TW4/