On her cousin’s persuasion, Ava Farnsworth attends a ball where she overhears a group of women talking about Lord Finley who they believe boards carriages, ravishes the women and their steals their jewelry. The man in question is in attendance at the ball and now Ava is intrigued to find out more about him. She’s been widowed for close to a year and looking to find a lover who will satisfy her strong sexual appetite.
She sees Lord Finley as the perfect candidate for the job and lets it be known that she will be traveling by carriage to Bath. When a masked man stops her carriage and boards it, she wonders if this is indeed Lord Finley or perhaps the rumors are false.
Genre: FICTION / Erotica / GeneralThis is part of my Masters of Pleasure series. It was well received and I now intend to add to the series which I feel will help sell previous books and as an added boost, I think it would do well to be translated into other languages.
“Are you Lord Finley?” I asked him.
He put his fingers on my lips and pressed them shut.
“That is for you to find out.” I closed my eyes as he passed his lips over my earlobe. This game we were playing added to the excitement of the scenario I now found myself in.
“What sir, or your lordship, would you like me to call you?”
“Today, I’d like to be James. And as we go about our business we are not to mention Lord Finley at all.”
“And our business will consist of what exactly?” I asked.
Perhaps he would let me in on what thrills lay ahead for me.
“If I tell you then it will spoil the fun.” He kissed my collarbone once again as he ran his hand over my breasts. I can be quite impatient when it comes to matters of the flesh, but I had a feeling James would be making the rules, and I could do nothing besides obey them. A moan escaped from my mouth as two of his fingers dipped inside my bodice and passed over my left nipple. It reacted immediately and turned hard and sensitive.
“Let me take a guess what color this is,” he whispered in my ear while squeezing my nipple between his thumb and index finger.
The pressure he applied to it was perfect. Not too soft that it didn’t send sparks of excitement racing through the nerve endings in my chest.
“Although your skin is pale, with your dark hair and your eyes brown, I would hazard a guess that this nipple is mocha, its aureole beige.” His breath traveled across my cheek. I closed my eyes thinking he was correct on both accounts. Perhaps he had seen so many women’s breasts that he was now an expert on the subject.
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Italian
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Already translated.
Translated by Teresa Sassani
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Author review: I highly recommend Teresa. |
