Love in Venice: an uncensored moment of passion from Seduction of Dynasty

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Taken from Chapter 15 of Seduction of Dynasty by Emma Calin

He led the way to the luxurious executive lounge. She accepted a coffee and a couple of salmon and cucumber blinis. This was not her comfort zone. She watched rich passengers guzzling complimentary champagne and rudely clicking their fingers at waiters for more. Spencer glanced at her, indicating his disgust with a tweak of his brow. The truth was money made things effortless. Poorer people served their needs and desires. Red carpets unrolled in front of each step as queues were pushed aside. Drivers polished cars and waited on the whims of masters. She wanted him as the man he was. But could this ever be her milieu?

Of course they traveled at the front of the cabin on wide leather seats. She relaxed and watched him working seriously on his laptop. This was a business trip after all. The absence of chatter somehow allowed a wordless blanket to wrap around them. As they walked from the plane an Italian official greeted them. They bypassed all customs and immigration checks as he showed the way to a waiting burnished motor launch. A couple of minutes later a bowing porter delivered their luggage and they set out across the still lagoon. The sky was white through to midnight blue and turning to rose. The sun brushed its last kiss before fleeing from the night. The scent was of the sea, summer heat, and humanity. The view ahead was a picture postcard. Slowly the Campanile grew larger as the onion-domed roof of the Cathedral of San Marco formed silhouettes against the hot pink sky.

She realized how little they’d spoken. They’d held hands, smiled, and let the presence of the other speak for itself. It was a quietness that was hard to kick-start into life. It had become a pause that had become a question. There was a depth in their simple presence together which their first new words mustn’t trivialize. Shannon knew that these coming words mustn’t fill their moment with chatter. She saw him look at her seriously several times as they sat in the back of the speeding launch. However they moved on from here would set the agenda of her life. She was sure of that. So far they had run headlong like playing children along a corridor towards a door which would either open, or not. They paused breathless and silent looking at each other. They were about to try the handle.

The launch slowed as they neared land. He stood and drew her up beside him. Now the shapes of the buildings of Venice were overpowering against the twilight. He tilted up her chin and kissed her with a soft urgency that left her breathless.

“Such beauty, and the view’s not bad,” he said.

Her mood lifted a little as they kissed again. Other vessels and gondolas were close by. His words had awoken her but had left a void longing to be filled.

“It doesn’t seem real, this city and being here with you.”

“You’re real enough. I don’t have the talent to dream you up.”

“Spencer….” she began, not knowing how she was going to continue.

“This is Venice, Shannon. I have no obligations or rule book here….”

He was fencing and probing. There was no need to crowd him. She studied his strong, handsome face. He was one man with one woman. The world could make whatever it would of the rest of their story. It would never be more or less than that. They were passing La Piazza San Marco and heading up into the wide mouth of the Grand Canal. Ahead was the fabulous church of Santa Maria Della Salute. They both stared into the dusk. The navigation lights of vessels were bright. A bridge spanned the canal ahead of them. She thought to ask its name but let it slide over their heads into the darkness. His arm was firm around her shoulders. She softened into him, willing him to understand his own strength through this metaphor of body against body. She closed her eyes. His voice came deep from his chest.

“I love you,” he said.

The evening of Venice sighed and surrendered into the arms of night. The weight of all the words unsaid lifted from her heart and she was free.

“I love you,” she answered.

“Do you? Do you really? I’d been so afraid to say—in case you ran from some fool.”

“I’ve loved you since we sat by the lake.”

“Yes, that was it for me too.”

“So we’re both fools not to know that such a thing could happen,” she said. “I’ve been fighting it because I couldn’t believe anyone else was as crazy as me.”

The door had opened and they had charged headlong into a new space. She hugged his waist as his arms folded her in to him. Her mind raced ahead. What was was the destination of this love?

“Before I said it, it was the most difficult thing on earth to say. Now I’ve let it out, it’s the only thing I can say,” he said.

“If I love you then it’s total, my hugga-bear. There’s no way back from love or murder. The jealous beast is out.”

“Jealous of a man like me?” he said smiling.

“Grrrrrr,” she replied.

“I wouldn’t want any other kind of love.”

“There is no other kind of love,” she said.

They were at the Rialto Bridge. They clung together in a kiss, oblivious of its magnificence. The launch had cut its engine and was coasting. There were only their words.

“My man.”

“My woman.”

A building rose above them as the boat nudged the mooring.

“This is the Palazzo Coccolare,” he said.

“Cock-o-lah-ray,” she repeated. “Sono Signora Ag-Where-ee from the Palazzo Cock-o-lah-ray.”

“That’s brilliant, you say it beautifully.”

“I don’t want to get lost and not know the address.”

She stepped out onto a stone platform that led up to a monster iron-grilled door. He steadied her arm as the door opened.

“Eccellenza—e Contessa, buona sera, che piacere,” said a dark-haired woman in a maid’s uniform.

“Antonella, e stato un lungo tempo,” said Spencer in obviously fluent Italian.

Shannon smiled as they entered the magnificent marble-floored hall.

“Dottore Ceccarelli non e qui ma la vostra suite e pronta per voi.”

“Grazie, Antonella,” said Shannon, exhausting her Italian vocabulary in one go.

The maid beamed and spoke to Spencer, squeezing his hand joyfully.

“Eccellenza—che bellezza, che felicita.”

A young man in an elegant gray suit picked up their bags and carried them to a lift. He bowed as the doors closed.

“You speak Italian?” he asked.

“Nah, I had a quick run round Google while I was waiting for the car. Sounds like you’re a pro.”

“Tourist level. We used to come here as children.”

“Whose palace is this?”

“It belongs to Dottore Ceccarelli. He’s my father’s cousin. He’ll be showing you the sights tomorrow.”

The wood paneled art deco lift juddered to a stop. He drew back the lattice gate and pushed open the door. She gasped at the sight before her. The floor was a burnished dark wood. A splendorous chandelier hung from a ceiling painted with cherubs, horses, and people in magnificent robes. She stood staring up. The illusion was of a dome rising almost forever. For her, this was an absolute first.

“Did my jaw drop?” she said.

“It is a show-stopper isn’t it? It’s by Tiepolo. He did it in 1720 for one of my ancestors, La Duchesse Feronese. She was the lover of both Louis XV of France and Cassanova. This is really a sketch. The full work is in the throne room at the royal palace of Madrid.”

Her eyes took in the deep red walls hung with massive gilt-framed mirrors. Crimson velvet buttoned chairs and a sofa formed the seating. In the center of the room was a beautiful wooden antique table, so deeply polished that it appeared to glow. Curtains in red and gold brocade swept down from the ceiling to frame open doors leading to a balcony.

“I’m just overwhelmed,” she said.

“Not by me I hope.”

“You’ll always be Spence the welder in sexy overalls to me, but all this stuff….”

“That’s all it is my love. I was born to stuff and titles. We’re all just mortal flesh and ideas.”

“Stuff is trouble. More stuff is more trouble. That’s what my dad says.”

“Then he’s a wise man.”

“And a poor one,” she said, not looking for an answer.

He had put down the bags and turned to her. Her heart raced as she looked into his eyes. For the first time she was seeing this man whom she loved as the man who loved her and risked that soft underbelly of his love. He pulled her to him and kissed her hungrily, almost masterfully. His strong arms held her to him, his hand behind her pressing her groin to his powerful body. She felt a tingle of pleasure and closed her eyes, feeling his lips and tongue with hers in a fusion of erotic emotion. Her heart sang in her chest. This man she adored had said he loved her. Over and over she let the words play in her mind. If the sun fell from the sky at this moment she would at least have reached the peak of human joy.

“You must see the view,” he said.

He led her to the balcony, his arm possessive around her waist. Below them the dark waters lapped against the steps of the palazzo. Mellow lighting danced in reflections on the Grand Canal. Gondolas and a vaporetto water bus flowed by. He had moved a little behind her, his big hands almost encircling her waist. His lips touched her neck. A sigh of pleasure rustled every leaf of joy in her body. She felt his deep voice in his chest as he spoke.

“I love you.”

He pulled her waist back to press against him. She could feel the strength of his arousal. He wanted her and that wanting thrilled her. She let her soul flow into the lapping water and her heart beat with the oars of the gondoliers. In this place beauty was a lust that could be satisfied. The most beautiful thing was their love and lust was its mortal life. She swiveled round to face him and clasped his cheeks, bringing his lips to hers. She held tightly and looked into his brown eyes.

“I love you so much Spencer. Don’t hurt me,” she said, the final words jumping out uninvited. She had never meant to reveal that fear. No one had ever held such a power over her.

“I’ll never hurt you.”

“I know,” she said.

The apartment was spectacular. A dressing room and genuine marble bathroom led off from the carpeted bedroom. The bed was antique Venetian walnut with covers of a deep cream satin.

“I need to clean up,” she began, staring at the bath. It appeared to be a one-piece bowl of black and gray flecked marble big enough for four people.

“It’s wonderful, isn’t it? They had to put in steel girders to take the weight.” He opened the tap. “Fabio, the owner, wanted something very special for a very special guest.”

“How special can you be?”

“Let’s say for instance, a desperate princess in a loveless life. Maybe she found true love here. I can’t say more because of course no such thing happened,” he said with a tweak of his brow.

She shook her head. These things were hard to take in.

“This is another world to someone like me. This is like being the ink on the page of a celebrity magazine—as if I’m in the story.”

“Shannon, the North Peckham Estate has its stories and secrets too. Royals and aristocrats are no different and certainly no better.

“Thank goodness for that,” she said with a knowing wink. Still watching him she began to undress. She knew she had his attention. She was fit, with a skin of deep olive silk that he longed for. She brushed her hands down over her white bra. He swallowed as his lust rose. She unhooked it and let it fall to reveal her aroused nipples. She was boiling him with desire. How she loved this. How long would he hold back? She could hear his breathing becoming more urgent and irregular. She held his eyes brazenly and slid her hand down to her panties, slipping inside to touch her sex.

“Shannon, for pity’s sake woman, you’ll make me come just looking at you,” he gasped.

“I’m a naughty minx aren’t I? I’m a naughty girl when I think of you,” she said, shamelessly fixing her gaze on his groin.

He swallowed hard and almost desperately undid his belt to free his hard upright cock. She saw at once that the tip was glistening wet with his juice. His seed was bursting to release into the heat of her belly. The sight of his desire shot a thrill through her. She had stopped her own touch but maybe she’d traveled too far. She’d only meant to fire his desire. She closed her eyes. A slight unstoppable tremor had begun. Suddenly he was kneeling in front of her. He pulled her panties aside and kissed a crashing wave of love from her nub and lips. She bent over him as his hot tongue licked her button to pulses of oblivion.”

“My angel, my angel,” he groaned into her flesh.

His lips were on her as if in the most tender searching for her soul, finding her sexual joy answering his gentle love and desire for her. She was helpless as he drew up her pleasure from her well of love for him, her convulsing cries thrilling him as the fruit of his touch. He kissed her stomach and stood, taking her in his arms. She could feel the ruthless steel of his cock pressing against her. She reached down and took it, desperate for him inside her. He sensed her desire as he lifted her, allowing her to wrap her legs around his waist. Then he filled her. She squealed as he entered. Orgasm engulfed her, mastering her will and being. His strength was unwavering. She was a weightless toy in his tireless arms. He kissed her lips as his movements beat in time with the rhythm of her need. He held his control, almost watching her. He was smiling and had still not released. He was showing her the power of his own teasing. She had surrendered to abandoned bliss. Before his own touch of the summit, he was taking in the view. The view was her joy that she helplessly spread before him.

“My turn to make you savor your desire, my beautiful temptress,” he said, lifting her from him and to her feet like a child. “We can’t waste the bath.”

They slipped into the smooth warm water. He was still erect. She moved to hold it. He pulled away with a laugh.

“My turn to tease,” he said.

“Spencer—I want it!’

“You’ll get it my love. But first you get some tender care.”

He picked up a small curved colored glass bottle. He pulled out the stopper and poured some oil into the palm of his hand. A scent of wonderful roses filled her senses. He slid behind her and began to massage the oil into her back and shoulders. His powerful hands slid under her arms to her breasts. The first tickle of no return zizzed in her nub. His cock was hard against her back.

“You feel desire, my lovely woman?”

“Yes,” she said, the deepness of his voice and the command of his hands  taking her over. She tried to say more but she became nothing but a voice groaning in sobs of pleasure. He was holding her as she flew with him.

“You remember when we were by the lake when we exchanged our ages. I fell for you in that very second. You said you wanted to give of yourself whatever I gave of myself. Can you remember the scent of lime and the breeze? Think of that moment of first love now.”

His hand slipped to her groove and moved sensuously to her clitoris. He soothed her lips against the soft woman love of her as he spoke.

“I remember your blue eyes and your smile….”

Her mind filled with the memory and of him, his maleness and deep brown eyes. Irresistible throbs of orgasm blended with the beauty of that day in her mind. A mental link between the abandon of sexual release and the powerlessness of the mind before the beauty of nature formed in her mind. The love from this man brought harmony which allowed her to see into some transcendental void of consciousness.

“I have a little mission,” he said.

He stepped out and held out a gloriously warm luxury towel. He patted her dry, lifted her and carried her to the bed.

“Lie down. Let me see your skin against the cream satin. I want a photo for my soul,” he said.

He toweled himself and looked at her. His eyes were warm with emotion. “I can’t believe you are mine and will be mine.”

He joined her on the bed, reached under the pillow and eased her up to a sitting position.

“Close your eyes.”

His lips kissed her back and neck. Something cold touched her chest.

“Voilà. Eccoci qua,” he said, getting up and standing back to look at her.

Glancing down she could see the unmistakable sparkle of diamonds and some slightly darker stones. She sprang from the bed and went to a mirror.

“My God, my God.” She was staring at the most beautiful piece of jewelry she had ever seen.

“What is it?”

“It’s a necklace.”

“Duh!’

“It’s white gold with pear-shaped rose diamonds.”

“It’s so lovely.”

“It is, now it’s on you.”

She stared at herself naked, the diamonds sparkling against her dusky skin.

“Can I keep it on?”

“Of course,” he said as he led her back to the bed and lay beside her. He raised himself on an elbow and softly kissed her lips. His other hand circled her belly teasing at the top of her groove. Then he touched her more deeply, his kiss drawing up her longing for him. She was already letting go. She pressed her hand over his, urging his hand down to open her. She felt the excited surge of his cock against her side as he explored her wetness. She thrilled him. How she loved his deep groan as he found her entrance. She knew now he couldn’t stop. His broad muscular shoulders were above her. She opened herself to him as he filled her. She could feel the relentless hard heat of his need. Her own tremor began as he quickened. She pulled his flexing buttocks to her, willing him to let go into the depth of her.”

“Come in me—You’re making me come—do it deep in me.”

He moaned a profound voiceless grunt of male release. She felt his spasms as his man cum jetted into her belly. Her own juices squeezed and swirled with his in a hot mix of perfect union. He found her lips as his shock waves shook his powerful body. Each flex of his cock thrust more of his seed into some place of her inner longing.

“I’m coming in you, my darling lover. I’m doing it inside you, my angel.”

His words tipped her over into a cry that merged with his male growl. As they resolved together he kissed her lips and held her eyes.

“No man has ever longed for a woman more or found such a woman,” he said.

“I love you, Spencer. I love you, I love you, I love you.”

A film of hot sweat joined them. She breathed in the scent of their male and female sex lust. Some beast in her gut drank it in. This was the musk of baby-maker man.

“I love you more than there is love in the love bank,” he said, moving to her side and pushing his hand through her hair.

“You’d better get an overdraft. I’m a greedy, exclusive, jealous girl,” she replied.

*******************************

Find out the rest of Shannon and Spencer’s steamy love story and action adventure in ‘Seduction of Dynasty’, available in print and e-book formats for all e-readers http://www.smarturl.it/webdynasty

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My hot luncheon date at Bloxington Manor with the Earl – a character interview from Seduction of Dynasty

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Shannon's Law Post 4 photo Bloxington Manor

A character interview from Seduction of Dynasty.

At last I could get out of central London. I’d had an early meeting with my best ever friend, Anna La Salle, Deputy Chief Commissioner at Scotland Yard. These days we’ve all gotten used to soldiers and cops with machine guns mingling with the tourists in Whitehall. I often stand back and reflect at the madness and sadness of it all. I’m excited to be heading south to interview a true aristocrat and sexy hunk, but I never forget the danger that the police and military face on these magnificent streets, every minute of every day.

As I get nearer to Bloxington Manor I’m feeling quite nervous. I mean this guy is a peer of the realm and hob-nobs with the royal family. I remember going to bed after I’d sent Police Constable Shannon Aguerri to meet him. I just didn’t know what I’d find in the morning. I mean she’s got a heart of gold but also a big mouth and a bit of attitude – well honestly a truck load of attitude. That’s why she’d been kicked out of inner city. It could have been disastrous for all three of us. Shannon’s got so much front she’ll just face up to anything. Spencer Chamberlain Knightsmith, eleventh earl of Bloxington is a refined English gentleman and accustomed to respect. At first I didn’t know him myself, he’s the kind of guy who risks becoming a cut out wealthy aristocrat. I sure didn’t expect Shannon to find him welding up an old racing car with his overalls open to the waist and almost certainly nothing at all underneath. The view wasn’t wasted on Shannon.

I pull up in front of the pillared front entrance. Two long haired retriever dogs scamper towards me across the gravel drive. They look wet from the long damp grass of the meadow that runs down to the lake. A commanding voice booms out.

“Jilly, Bobby. Stop!”

The animals freeze and sit. In the distance I see the six-feet-four bear-like form of Spencer striding along the long drive of horse chestnut trees golden in the autumn sun. He’s wearing a tweed jacket, corduroy trousers and of course green wellies. Now my heart is beating a bit harder. This is the first time I’ve spoken to him since I set Shannon on him and put mayhem into his life.

He takes my hand and kisses me on both cheeks, European style.

“Emma – you’ve not changed a bit and you’re always early for appointments.”

“I like to set the scene before I get into the action,” I say.

“What a good strategy. Top class idea. Look, let’s get inside. I hope you’ve got time for some cold cuts while we talk.”

“Cold cuts?” I’d forgotten this old-style aristo language.

“Luncheon – I’m going up to the City later for a board meeting so it’ll be great to combine question with digestion.”

He chortles at his obviously choreographed expression.

“You’ve turned into a bit of a poet Spencer.”

“Well to be honest I do it just to make Shannon groan. She talks at twice my speed and my old duffer act slows her down a bit.”

I’m beginning to see what I set loose on the poor chap. I wanted him to be happier but I’m still not sure if I did the right thing. I look at his rugged face and brown eyes. His hair is still overlong and a little more grey. He eases a commanding hand into my back and smiles. I love his posh accent.

“It’s truly wonderful to see you again. To be honest I never felt we’d got to know each other before, well you know, before Shannon.”

“I was always watching you from a distance, feeling jealous of her if I’m honest. When you started to do things out of character I just had to let you go.”

“Out of character?”

“Like singing Elvis songs to her and taking her to Venice to propose.”

“All that kind of surprised me. You know a man is like a box of toys or something. A woman can’t control what’s in the box but she can choose what she pulls out and what games she plays.”

I stare at him. This isn’t the man I’d abandoned to the mercy of someone like Shannon.

“You’re deeper Spencer.”

“It’s called happiness. When you’re unhappy in life that’s all you are. Unhappiness is a city state. Happiness is a continent.”

His voice is deep and confident. If he wasn’t married I definitely could you know…….

We walk through the entrance hall with the grand stairway and through the long gallery of paintings. The Orangery is still the same with its view of the chapel and cricket field.

Avington-Park-9164“So this is where King Charles the Second consorted with his mistress Nel Gwynn?” I ask.

“Yes, I love that sense of history. I tell Shannon she should read the story of his father, Charles the First and his wife Maria. Now that was a love story.”

“Does Shannon agree?”

“She says she’d rather write a bloody hot love story with me than read one. She lives very much in the present.”

I watch his face in profile as he gazes out of the window. He nods in acknowledgement of the warmth her words convey. He turns to me and gestures me to sit. A maid wheels in a trolley with plates of sandwiches, sliced meat, salads and a range of beautiful fruit. He sits opposite me, his eyes flick to mine. I want to hold them and he lets me linger just a little longer than he would have allowed before. His sexiness is more obvious, more experienced. I’m showing a generous cleavage with a ruby pendant teasing his focus. He’s ten years younger than me. I smile and enjoy the ping in my belly. His eyes come back up to mine and I can see he knows what I’m feeling. I need to get control here.

“Those guys out there – your fans, they want me to ask you some quite personal things. I’m a bit shy to be honest.”

“Me too, but look, there’s only you and me here and we probably like the same stuff.”

“OK – the first moment you saw Shannon, what did you think?”

“You want me to be honest?”

“Sure.”

“Well, we live in a world of sexy images. You get kind of numb and I’d turned off, shut down. When I saw her, even in that police uniform I had a surge like I was seventeen.”

“Do you think she knew?”

“Shannon knows everything. She just has to angle her hips a little, push out her lips a little. I covered things up by bumbling on about the car I was fixing. She moved half an inch into my personal space and, well I wanted to kiss her then and there. She knew.”

“You’ve got to tell me if you were wearing anything at all under those overalls?”

I’m afraid I’ve gone too far and embarrassed him. He looks down and then sweeps his eyes up my body to my face, as if he’s tracing the path with his finger. Oh no…things are getting, you know – possibly humid.

“No, it was a summer day.”

“You didn’t get to say that much. Did you think about her after she’d left?”

He smiles slowly and brings his hand to his chin. I’d followed Shannon’s actions that night so his answer would be news to me too. His expression is wicked and knowing. He speaks slowly in a slightly husky voice.

“Emma, we’ve not met for a while but there’s no one closer to me. Yes, I thought about her.”

“You…?”

“Yes, I took a shower and I couldn’t hold back.”

“Did you ever tell her?”

“No, I’m a English gentleman. I wanted her to want me as only that at the beginning. It seemed my most favorable angle”

Behind my eyes I roll a fantasy of this gorgeous gentle man letting go in his lonely ecstasy of pure sex, thinking of me. I knew what I’d be thinking of later. I take some food while Spencer stands and pours some mineral water. His groin is level with my eyes. I let myself imagine that shower scene, his groan, his release. Several times.

There is a voice in the kitchen out of sight. It’s a female and I know that south London accent.

We both stand as she almost scampers in, her golden skin and crazy black hair somehow shouting her personality without the need for words. Her blue eyes mixed with her complexion made me crazy with jealousy I admit. She was here now but I’d had Spencer to myself for a precious time. A time that would kindle a little heat in me when I needed some private warmth.

We hug. Her body is young and wiry compared to mine. I’d have no chance against her. She kisses Spencer’s lips and glances at me. A woman like me knows that growl from another woman.

“I hope he hasn’t been a sexy charmer. I don’t allow that sort of stuff in here and don’t forget I’m a cop.”

“He’s been a gentleman.”

“That’s what I feared. That’s what had me fooled. By the time I realized his tactic I had my clothes off and it was too late.”

Spencer has returned to his aristocratic look. Just once I caught his eyes on mine with a look of complicity. For sure this man – my man, made love to her but now I knew something of him she didn’t. You can’t ever explain to men how much things like that matter to a woman.

“When I last saw you here you were a regular cop. You’re a Chief Inspector now at Scotland Yard, ” I say.

“Yeah, bullshit will always baffle brains Emma – I know you’ve always worked on that principle.”

“Whoever told you I had any principles?” I say, wondering if her tone had a bit of edge.

Spencer laughs

“Ha! You walked into that one Shannon.”

“Look, it’s only catty cos you’re here giving Emma smiley eye stuff. Bugger off to work and bring me in some spontaneous red roses.”

Spencer rises, kisses her and walks the door. He glances back but avoids my eyes.

“I leave you girls to chat. Emma and I never got to say much and certainly nothing new.”

Once he was gone Shannon pours some tea and sits opposite to me where Spencer had been sitting.

“So, what did you talk about? If it wasn’t about me then lie – I know you make stuff up at the drop of your knickers.”

“Shannon – are you a bit jealous of women around Spencer?”

“Course not.”

I let it drop and told her the truth.

“We talked about you and what happened when you first met each other…….”

Mid afternoon I drive out through the gates and head back to the crazy sprawl and scramble of London. I still feel turned on and you know, damp and naughty. I push a love song compilation CD into the player. I’d be at my flat in Chelsea alone for at least an hour before my man came home. Maybe I’d scratch my my itch of lust on him when he came through the door. Did I want to share that heat with another man? Maybe I’d take a shower with Spencer. Yeah, it’s a private affair and he’s my man after all.

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Shannon Aguerri at the old New Scotland Yard, before her move to Fleetworth Green.Find out more about Shannon and Spencer in Seduction of Dynasty on Emma Calin’s website

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Passion in Paris – an extract from the romance novel ‘Seduction of Combat’

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A Steamy 'Sexcerpt'for

… with no censorship.

(stop reading now if you are sensitive or under 18!)

A clip from my action adventure romance novel, ‘Seduction of Combat‘.

Setting the scene:

Anna is an Interpol Detective. Freddie is a boxer, gearing up for a world title fight.  They meet, by chance in a shared London cab during a downpour. There’s an undeniable spark and they hook up for a drink. Their relationship begins.  But Anna hasn’t told him the truth about her life, she’s enjoying a flirtation with a stranger, without the stigma of being a cop.  Then, by coincidence, with his forthcoming bout, Freddie is revealed as a possible key to a major investigation into mafia match-fixing. Anna’s bosses encourage her to go undercover and use her relationship with Freddie to find out what’s going on. She’s already fallen for him and hardly needs any encouragement. Can she do her duty and still keep control of her feelings?

Freddie has been doing some business deals in Paris and has invited Anna to join him there. Since Anna has been ordered to stay close and ‘get to know him better’, how could she possibly refuse?

Taken from Chapter 11.

Location: Paris, France, Boulevard St Michel.

“They took the elevator to his fifth-floor penthouse. As the heavy paneled door opened she saw into a huge lounge, one wall of which was filled with leather-bound books. An enormous French window opened out onto a balcony looking out over the rooftops of Paris to the Seine. Freddie faded up the mellow wall lights allowing her to see the sumptuous blue carpet and what looked like an original Renoir hanging over an ornate Louis XV fireplace. Antique chairs, clocks and ornaments were tastefully displayed around the room. A large gilt-framed mirror reflected a magnificent chandelier hanging from the ceiling.

“It’s so, so lovely,” she sighed as he closed the door behind her with a heavy, quality laden click.

She turned to him as he came to her, feeling his strong arms possess and caress her. Her knees physically buckled. She kissed him deeply, her tongue searching shamelessly for his. As he responded she could feel him hardening against her belly. She curled her leg behind his and pressed her longing secret lips against his tight rippled thigh.

He eased his head back and looked at her.

“You are so beautiful Anna – I can’t believe this cruel world has allowed me to find you.”

She lay her head on the contoured bulge of his pecs as he stroked her hair.

“Champagne?” he asked, “this is Paris and it is from my own vineyard… you can’t say no.”

“I’d love it – but can I get out of these old London and airplane clothes?”

He let her go and she dived into the en suite power shower. She was pleased to see that all the materials were absolutely male. The water revived and enlivened her as it cascaded onto her aroused breasts. She reached down, only too aware of the pleasure of her own touch. She stepped out, spotting a white silk dressing gown on the heated towel rail. She put it on, immediately jolted by his scent and presence. Across the back spread the logo ‘Lonsdale’ and the words ‘Le Professeur – Champion du Monde’. She wrapped it around her, thrilling to its aromatic attraction. She pulled up the hood and breathed in his pure clean yet animal scent. Tying it, she walked back into the lounge, making her own show of jabbing and punching like a boxer getting in to the ring.

Freddie was standing at the window. He saw her reflection and turned to her with a broad adoring smile.

“Wow – you look fantastic,” he said, smiling and handing her a crystal fluted glass of champagne from the table.

“I love this gown – it smells of you.”

“Yeah – sweat blood and tears my love… I wore it at my last fight – you keep it, I could never make it look so good.”

“Then you’ve lost it baby,” she squealed, “I’ll never give it back.”

“Perhaps I’ll have to keep you on,” he said with a soft smile, “here’s to everything that lies ahead”.

They touched glasses and drank.

“God! That’s good!” she said.

“Vintage Chateau La Salle – just for the boss and his lady,” he smiled.

The delicious anticipation of his touch sent seismic thrilling waves through her body. She stood by his side at the window, fighting to maintain a veneer of sophistication. She finished her drink and he stepped back to the bottle and poured them both another. She drank quickly – too quickly – she knew, feeling a glow as her inhibitions burned away like mist in the morning sun. He had come to stand behind her. She felt him rock hard and urgent against her lower back. A jolt of pleasure rocked her as his lips and the teasing lick of his tongue found her neck and his teeth nibbled at her skin. One hand cupped her breast and gently brushed her nipple. She groaned and leaned back against him as his other hand ran down across her belly into the furrow of her moist core. Slowly he began to massage her inner lips against her firm little button, circling lightly yet more and more urgently. Still he licked her neck in the same rhythm, as his other hand matched the pulse of her passion and he gently stroked her nipple. The three pulses of lust began to overwhelm her and at first she tried to hold back as she felt her orgasm building and piling like thunder clouds against a pure blue sky on a summer’s day.

“Freddie – what are you doing to me – I can’t hold back.”

“Let go my angel,” he whispered huskily, “be a woman for me – be my woman, ma belle.”

Spasms of joy rushed through her as she let go, sensing his need for her to abandon herself totally to him. Beyond her, the Parisian night blended into her consciousness and her surrender to pleasure. He held her as she tilted up her lips to his and kissed him in shudders of ecstasy.

“My sweet baby, my sweet soft baby,” he murmured as she grunted out his name in a blur of love and animal passion.

As she subsided for a moment she turned to face him, kissing him deeply. His desire for her was by now all consuming and he felt a desperation for his own release. A trace of her woman scent gripped his senses. He lifted her in his steel arms as if she had no weight, finding her lips with his. She felt herself carried to a huge antique four-poster bed. He gasped at her beauty. Her black hair spread carelessly on the cream satin pillow. He feasted his eyes on the supple softness of her body, quickly removing his clothes and lying alongside her, moving his mouth to her breast and his hand to her gorgeous wet soft valley. The feel of her thrilled him as she opened herself to his touch.

She reached out to him. He was hard and massive and twitched as her hand slowly drew him back to reveal his longing flesh. He groaned but fought to hold back. He wanted to plunge into her haven of warm giving love – for his love for her to unite with her body. His finger slipped gently into her as he turned to move above her. She still held him as he found her entrance and felt the parting of her delicious flooding lips. At last he slid into her, pushing to the limit of her soft depths.

She sighed as his power, length and thickness filled and possessed her. He nudged at the roof of her being somewhere deep in her spirit. Some beast had been released from captivity as his movements touched switches of pleasure and lust. She gripped his buttocks, thrilling at their relentless steel tension. She began to buck upwards in ecstasy as waves of uncontrolled shudders swept through her. She let out some animal sound as she saw his broad shoulders above her and gasped in the scent of his male body musk.

He felt the pulsating grip of her joy beneath him as he moved slowly inside her soft soaking body. The awareness of his power over her pumped him harder and harder as he began to climb towards the top of an irresistible slope.

She sensed his growing need and the tension excited her beyond control. As he pressed his lips to her neck groaning “mon amour – mon amour,” she trembled against him as surges of orgasm seemed to drench her into senselessness.

And now he had reached the summit of his climb. He bit tenderly at her neck tasting her flesh and her sweat. He began to let himself go, feeling the longing sweet agony of need to release. He was gripping her and filling her and she was holding him, pulling him in deeply, pulling in the male of him to her sweet female love flower.

She felt the ecstatic squeezing and pumping of his muscles inside and outside of her as his seed flowed and jetted into her hot molten core, mixing with her own pulsing jolts of their shared climax. He heard her helpless cry as he groaned her name and gave up control to the power of love and the passion of beasts.

She felt his weight as he subsided onto her breasts. Still he was inside her with the last aftershocks of his release still shuddering through him, as if he were a great tree crashed across her as the storm finally passed. Their bodies were damp with sweat and lust. Their scent and fluids mixed into mellowness in the pale thin light of the room. He was the first to speak.

“Anna – my love – there is no other woman like you – I just lose myself in you.”

He lay on his back and she turned on her side placing her leg between his.

“You are my man, Freddie. I’m out of control too with all this but I can’t stop,” she said seriously.

“I never want you to stop… but maybe one day you will wake up and see that you don’t know me…”

“I know enough – no one can ever know everything,” she said calmly.

She rested her head on his chest as he stroked her hair. Idly she ran her hand over the ridged iron six pack of his stomach muscles. He was beautiful – more beautiful than anything she could ever have imagined. His olive skin was like silk and smelled of male mixed with summer sun and sex.

With an athletic swivel he lay her over on her side and spooned into her back, whispering butterfly kisses onto her shoulders.

“You are my baby for ever – my angel,” he murmured as they drifted into warm cuddled sleep. ”

END OF EXCERPT.

Grab a copy of the complete book here.

VIDEO TEASER FOR SEDUCTION OF COMBAT

Anna’s time in Paris with Freddie was a pivotal point in their relationship. Many readers have also enjoyed these ‘Parisian moments’ in Seduction of Combat   and highlighted them on their Kindles. I love Paris – it’s my favorite city in the world,  so I used these highlighted phrases  to create a video monologue – as if Anna were reminiscing about their time in Paris.

The video was made when this book was called ‘Knockout!’. You’ll notice the old cover artwork at the end. Gurus advised us that the title didn’t sound like a romance, more like a thriller,  so we  re-marketed it as ‘Seduction of Combat’.  I think romance readers like a bit of action and adventure and could cope quite well with the original book name….

I’d love to know what you think… which title do you think works best?

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Holiday To France Aboard Le Bretagne

gorgeous magician's assistant

I’m the gorgeous blonde in army boots with the handcuffs.

How often do you get to fulfill your fantasies? Well, OK – don’t tell me! (Isn’t life great when you just up and say what you bloody well want). BUT some fantasies just ain’t going to happen – like being a sexy magician’s assistant…….or maybe just a magician’s sexy assistant. The real shame is that my kids were not there to suffer obligatory embarrassment.

So, having traveled from my home in France to England to impart my hard-bitten worldly wisdom to my adult-lite kids in the UK for a couple of weeks, they wiped joyful tears from their eyes as I set sail back to Chateau Calin for Bastille Day on the Brittany ferry Bretagne. There I was, seated in the bar with Oscar, sipping our third or fourth organic vegan diet mineral waters, when Matt Grindley, the famous comedic magician appealed to the audience for a beautiful blonde female assistant to put him in handcuffs. Who else could he have wanted?  He must have read my books. Being a magician he knew I was there!

What a gent he was. He suffered my amateur febrile fumblings to put him in chains, rolled with me on the stage before at last I assisted in his erection – of a tent,  from which he escaped to mass applause. The man is a star and a trouper. I must say also that Brittany Ferries work hard to feature some top acts on their crossings. These guys are true pros who bring  show biz charisma to the journey.  Big Up Matt Grindley

And there’s even more performance to come. From the 18th July for one week all of my Passion Patrol novels are on sale at 99cents/99pence. OK: watch carefully. You take this cloth – you put it over  enough money to buy a cup of Starbucks coffee. You pull away the cloth and Voila – Three whole sexy police suspense action Romance books. Just like that. Magic! http://www.smarturl.it/PPSeriesALL BOOKS 99c-99p.png

 

 

 

 

Queen Launches Love Bleeds Blue

The champagne smashed into the bow. A vessel riveted together with 104,000 words slipped away to begin its life away from me. Even the Queen was in tears but only because of the onion in her after-party Cheddar sandwich. What do you mean Fake News? You just don’t believe I’d give Her Majesty a cheese sandwich do you?

Much of history is the concoction and revelation of fake news. The English Popish Plot of 1678, the arson of the Reichstag in 1933 and the 2011 European Union ruling on straight bananas spring to my mind. Not only was much of these stories untrue, they were also influential. And there my friends is where Love Bleed Blue offers its tiny voice in the debate.  The above video features my police consultant, the English poet Oscar Sparrow. He seems plausible enough to me! He’s what I call a deadpan of mass deception.

kindle fire no backgroundIt’s only going to cost you 99 cents/99p to grab your copy AND until April 24th you can click the link in the back to claim your sweepstake chance to win a 7 inch Kindle Fire tablet. It’s out there guys! Now it’s over to you.PP3 LBB 24 Apr small

Emma Thinx:  Walk towards the light, don’t throw a shadow on the future.

Launch Party: Love bleeds Blue

launch partyIt’s invitations across the nations. The great novel sits on its slipway. I’ve been out greasing the rails. Odd rough looking types are wandering about with sledge hammers – They’re either the guys who knock out the last wedges or Amazon one star trolls. We’ll soon know.

Tomorrow April 3rd at 8 pm London Time I’m exposing myself on Facebook.https://www.facebook.com/events/1398467893530093/

Please please be there to win prizes, hold my digital digits, shore up the crumbling Leggo castle of my ego or even burrow down into the creative process to know why the hell writers put themselves through this angst.

Dear friends, lusty patriots of imagination land, refined intellectuals, decadent lovers of romantic frenzies and lacy suspenders of disbelief – you are welcomed to my hot hearth for this historic moment. The book is an oversexed duck-billed platypus thrashing in a golden Jacuzzi  of satirical minestrone. There’s something for everyone. Well, maybe not quite everyone….I don’t like the look of a couple of those sledge hammer guys.

Emma Thinx:   Be a superstar in your own soup.

 

Brexit Blues and Royals

 

Francois, William and Kate

President and Royals pose with the French Olympic fencing team. Photo credit express.co.uk.

Suddenly everyone is pushing buttons. Theresa May has hit the big Brexit button. World out there – ready or not here we come; or go; or sort of  wander about. So far I’ve not been taken as a hostage by the French government in case we don’t pay the 60 billion euros exit paperwork handling fee. (Pesky lawyers). Not sure who pays my fare if I get deported.

Why worry?  I’m about to press the launch button on Love Bleeds Blue and if everything goes as planned the royalties would soon get me out of jail.

In the meantime I wrote a modest feature for Impkater magazine. I felt rather humbled to be in such a publication. They’ve got some real scholars and experts I can tell you. I don’t know what to think until I’ve read these guys.  Anyway William and Kate – yes the royals – were doing a pre-Brexit Britfest in France. Republican or Royalist you can’t help loving all the glitter and pomp. The French did away with their chance to have shows like this so William and Kate are just showing them what they’ll miss if they’re unfriendly to us. If they don’t give us back our ball they sure won’t be getting any glass slippers from us.  AND we’re perfectly capable of making our own cheese to go with Californian wine so my suffering would be manageable.

331px-Arms_of_the_Kingdom_of_France_(Moderne).svg

French Royal Crest. (Wikimedia)

Very often French people whisper to me that they want to bring back the Royals and do away with politicians all together. Now – remember where you heard it first…….Come on now – you didn’t expect Donald or Brexit did you?

 

Emma Thinx:  Good neighbours make good fences. Bad neighbours make good fencers.

 

Knockout Punch in China

Chinese legs

These legs were made for walking

Who ever would have thought that my legs would get me to China wearing those shoes? This is just so exciting as Knockout – book 1 in the Passion Patrol series goes live in China. Passion Patrol 2 is in the wings getting ready to launch. I was half hoping that I would get a mention at the National People’s Congress which has just been held in Beijing but I guess they had other important stuff to deal with. I’m just hoping those readers will enjoy the Szechuan hot sauce of Anna and Freddie.

Emma Thinx: Love is the original free trade agreement.

Emma Reveals All: But Only Under The Covers.

 

In France we have just emerged from our shelters as Tempete Zeus blows itself off to the east. I knew we would invoke the power of Zeus when we held our prize draw for the naming of characters in the book, since it was he who drew lots with Hades and Poseidon to get the supreme god job. I did notice the wind was getting up as we were selecting the winners. It’s cops, it’s sex, it’s action, it’s more sex, it’s politics,it’s love, it’s comedy, it’s out on April 3rd. I won’t bang on but here’s a short blurb.

Two women, two forbidden loves, one desperate chance. As the old political certainties of  modern life fragment, two fearless women gamble all to re-unite a country and point a way forward to a world in conflict.
pp3-left

Well, tell me what you think of it, please.

Emma Thinx: Falling at the first hurdle means you get to shower in peace.

Ageless Love. Gorgeous Grans.

brigitte

Image Published in Dawn, May 1st, 2016

When is love ever wrong? Maybe never. Maybe what I really mean is sex. Well, generally you know when you’ve had sex with someone or even on your own. But LOVE – that poor horse-whipped thoroughbred is far harder to recognise.

In my latest Passion Patrol novel (out soon folks!) there’s my usual sprinkling of indefensibly gratuitous lust. The setting is contemporary France where such matters are often part of the political mix. Even so, some things raise an un-plucked Gallic eyebrow. A few days ago my neighbour and I were discussing the up coming presidential elections in which a front runner is Emmanuel Macron, millionaire banker and ex socialist minister of finance in the Hollande government. In a whisper she told me “His wife is much older – she was his teacher at school. She was thirty eight and he was fifteen.”

Of course nothing happened until he was eighteen but well – it’s all rather lovely isn’t it? Actually it’s all rather stimulating. By the way – she’s a lovely woman. Not sure about him. Readers can expect some up close exploration of this theme. And that’s before we start talking about the leader of the French National Front Marine Le Pen. A lot of men (and women) find her sexy. Who the hell needs politics if we could just have happy sex and a good sexy political  read? Coming soon guys!

marine

Image courtesy Twitter.

Emma Thinx: Politics – what sexy people know as love and what lovers know as sex.