Even wedded and sharing a bed, no man would touch a woman as he touched her. But she had chosen this. To submit, to prove her innocence this way, for only the witch could not feel…
…yet she felt it all. His every touch… his every breath. “For what do you ache?” His words brushed her ear, warm and moist. “Tell me.”
He guided her hands lower, over her soft belly, her hips, the tops of her thighs. The oils they spread there, glistened upon her flesh as firelight and shadows caroused about his chambers.
And then he grasped her wrists and urged her hands to her back once again. “Clasp them,” he said. And she did.
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“I would compare the story to a particularly rich chocolate cake. Each bite is so wonderfully delicious – to the point where it almost (but never quite) becomes too much to handle. You may find, in fact, that you start with only small bites. But then the author turns on a little bit of peril – just the right amount – and it mixes to a degree where your hunger to learn what happens next becomes insatiable.” – TL
“Arla, I read pretty much only historical erotica. Your books were some of the best I have read. Thank you so much for writing them. Your male characters are everything…Are you writing more? I would love to know. Thank you for your amazing ability to put feeling into words. I felt everything as I read be it pleasure, pain or emotion in each character. I am sad I have no more to read by you right now!!! Keep writing and I will keep reading.” – A
“Fifty Shades-meets-Shakespeare in this eloquent, erotic tale.”
– Debra Druzy, Contemporary Romance Author