Six SCORCHING stories from USA Today and number 1 bestselling British authors! This is the 100% British historical anthology you’ve been waiting for. So, grab a cup of tea and make sure the smelling salts are to hand, then settle in as our heroines re-write the rules and earn SIX OF THE BEST for their outrageous antics. This dance across history sweeps from the Restoration to Victorian times and will leave you panting almost as much as our naughty ladies.
Publisher’s note: These stories are HOT. Hotter than an oven full of muffins in a well-known British cake show. Domestic discipline and other indoor sports feature heavily in them, so if that’s not your cup of tea, this is probably not the set for you. Don’t say we didn’t warn you!
The King’s Vice by Felicity Brandon
“How utterly beguiling… Yet now we come to the truly tantalizing part. Now we reveal just how much mettle the lady has. Will you yield to me further this night, or will you refuse me?”
“Yield as you have yielded,” he tells me, his brown eyes dancing as he watches my expression. “And then, when you are certain that it is not possible, you will yield to me further.”
He is the devil in disguise, a debauch and beguiling demon, sent forth to worship and corrupt me. The thought makes me smile, in spite of my shame on the subject.
I want him to kiss me, to claim me, to own me. I desire it in a way I have no right to do. I demand it.
This is a perilous game and one which I am almost certain to lose. If I play badly, then I risk upsetting him and my family will bear the brunt of my failure. Yet if I win – ah, if I win – I could lose something far more precious than even wealth or my reputation; I could lose my heart.
The King wants to spank me, and I know it will hurt, but worse still, I find that I wholeheartedly welcome it. I need his touch – I need the sensation – and I need to find that euphoria he had delivered after the pain yesterday.
You are most welcome here in my court, Lady Jane,” he purrs, his eyes devouring the cut of my bodice, and rising north over my throat and mouth.
“Thank you, Your Majesty,” I whisper, my words barely audible over the sound of my racing heart.
He smiles, the sort of expression which could melt through the bitter English snow. “I hope I’ll be seeing a lot more of you in the coming weeks.”
I risk a glance at him, and for just the briefest moment our eyes lock. He smolders at me, those large brown eyes conveying the message he wants to deliver. And I hear it.
Every. Single. Word.
Whew! That is hot, isn’t it?
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