Originally a post for the The Big Blisse Kiss, here’s a super secret, extra special look at CodeName: Whiked, a story I’m hoping to get published this year. Still in the developmental phases, here’s a sneak peek as Bella, our intrepid heroine, seeks her own little bit of wicked…
Smiling, her lover leaned back on the bed, the move pulling his coat tight against his shoulders. Lust ran through Bella, and her palms itched to trace the breadth of him. Staring at his mouth, she wet her own. It would only be a kiss.
Seconds ticked by, each heavier than the last. She watched him, watched him watching her, her breath tortured and her skin tight.
His lips parted.
Oh, sod it.
His mouth was firm under hers, but his lips softened as she brushed them. He didn’t touch her, allowing her the lead, and there was something wildly dizzying in that, exciting and powerful and…
Opening her mouth slightly, she flicked at his upper lip with her tongue, pulling back slightly for his reaction. No protest, and so she did it again, and then a third time. The third, though, his tongue followed, flicking at her bottom lip.
She pulled back, startled. From behind his makeshift mask, he regarded her. Studying him back, it took but a moment for her to smile, and then kiss him again.
She coaxed, she teased, and he played the coquette, the shy maiden she’d always pretended during her season. Unlike then, this time she was the aggressor, taking as she’d always wanted to, even during those oh-so-chaste kisses of her youth. Placing her knee beside him, she leant into him and ran her hands over his shoulders, down his biceps, along his forearms. Encountering his hands against the bedding, she spread hers over them.
His hands were clenched.
A strange sense of triumph ran over her. She had done that. She had made it so this man was mad for her, desired her, lusted for her. He was not ignoring her, or being indifferent, or taking another.
Opening his mouth with hers, she slipped her tongue inside.
Grabbing the small of her back, he shoved her onto the bed and loomed over her as his mouth devoured hers. Shocked by the suddenness of his action, she allowed it but a moment before fighting back, wrestling for control. She pushed at him, but he resisted, his hands tangled in her hair, his hips pressing against hers. The mask bit into her face with the force of his kiss, his hands wrecking the hairstyle her maid had spent an hour perfecting.
She felt dominated, small, controlled–but she didn’t want that. Not for this, her first wickedness. A shove was all it took and he moved this time, rolling over so she could crawl over him, could hold his head steady, could devour him. Straddling him, she tightened her fingers against his scalp even as his hands cupped her bottom to pull her into him.
Ending the kiss, her mask having miraculously stayed in place, she sat up. Slowly, she undid the buttons at her back and he watched her, his clothes disordered by her hands. The strange mask lent shadow and mystery to his face, and she was glad of it, glad she didn’t have to see the expression in his eyes during this descent into wickedness.
The bodice of her gown gaped and her breasts were revealed, the oh-so-daring corset she’d purchased baring her almost to the nipple. By the sharp intake of breath and the tightening of his hands, he appreciated the view.
Smoothing her hands over her corset, she said, “Do you like my corset?”
“How can I not?” The rough words made her shudder.
Between her thighs she could feel him, hard and hot, and this proof of how she affected him made her blood race. Arching her back, she swallowed a gasp as the move ground her upon him, intensifying the ache inside.
“It is pretty, is it not? And so effective.” Trailing her hands over her breasts, she wished she possessed the nerve to caress herself as she wanted. The corset made her breasts swell, so much more than usual, and she wanted to explore this new fullness. She wanted to explore it before him.
It seemed he would not object, should she choose to do so. Indeed, from how his gaze remained glued to the motions of her hands, he most like would welcome such an action. Perversely, however, this made her wish the opposite.
Quick, clean, she removed her hands. A noise of protest rose from his throat, but it was quickly stifled.
Exhilaration filled her. He would not object. She could do as she wished.
Clearing his throat, he raised his gaze to hers. “The corset is most effective.”
Happiness bubbling within her, she tugged playfully at the collar of his shirt, already half undone and baring his throat. “I don’t much like this.”
Another quirk of his lips. “Well, by all means, my dear, remove it.”
Pushing his collar from his throat, she also untied his shirt, baring a vee of flesh. Oh Lord, he was golden and smooth and warm. Mouth suddenly dry, she desperately wanted to taste him.
Ripping his waistcoat open, she shoved his shirt up, feeling his flesh beneath her fingers.
“Was my waistcoat not to your liking as well?” The wryness of his tone couldn’t hide the desire behind it.
Straddling him still, she looked down at him. Pretty mouth stretched in a smile, strong chest revealed to her. He was beautiful, this man and, dear Lord, she wanted so much. “I didn’t much like it either.”
His smile widened. “Ah, dastardly material, how dare it-”
Unable to wait any longer, she stopped his words with her mouth.