WHAT YOU WISH FOR a paranormal erotic romance, appears in Secrets Volume 19
ISBN: 0975451693.
Available from:
Amazon
Amazon UK
Lucy Chambers loves life in her historic house on the rugged Cornish coast. The only thing that would make it even better is if the sexy man who walked through her dreams every night was real. Little does Lucy know about Cornish magic...
Under the watchful eye of the local white witch, Lucy is about to find out about the power of wishes and the vagaries of time. Two centuries before, Cullen Thaine wishes for one last night with an English wench before leaving for the colonies to pay a debt of honour, and then Lucy finds herself in his arms.
She has to be dreaming, right? So why not enjoy the experience? And they do, their mutual passion burning fiercely through Cullen’s last hours on English soil. But fate works in mysterious ways and Lucy finds she can no more face his leaving than she can figure out how she got sent back in time. What will transpire when Cullen confesses he longs to stay in his beloved Cornwall, and can Lucy find a way to make all their dreams come true?
"WHAT YOU WISH FOR is a time travel romance that will leave readers breathless in anticipation of what will happen next. Lucy is a real down to earth type of character and I liked her from the beginning of the story. Cullen is strong willed and you find yourself pulled into his indecision. He decides whether to keep his promise and fulfill his debt or stay with the woman he has come to love. Love scenes are chock full of heat and intensity you will need to be cooled off so make sure you have a fan nearby. Saskia Walker has done an excellent job of writing an adventure that draws the reader in." Blue Ribbon Rating: 4.5. Angel Brewer for Romance Junkies.
"This is an eclectic mix of titles with plenty here to entertain all tastes. The heat and chemistry for all the couples is sexy and at time sweet and tender. All four authors provide fine short stories perfect for the quick read. The authors entertain while not making the reader feel as if they’ve been cheated by short word count. Ménage, time travel, historical and contemporary elements are all present." 4 stars. Kristi Ahlers for Romantic Times.
EXCERPT: NB: EXPLICIT ADULT CONTENT!!
When Enid got home from her visits that evening, Wellington, her cat, was waiting expectantly.
"Mrs. Davith rests well," she informed him. "And Lucy dreams of her man every night." She put down her bag of tricks, poured a large sherry and sat down in her rocking chair.
Wellington followed her over and jumped onto her lap with a litheness defying his attitude and size.
"So, what do we think, Wellington, do we think Lucy's ready?"
Wellington blinked at her, his gaze steadfast.
"Yes, I thought so too."
The cat settled into her lap, curling his limbs under him.
She reached for her trinket box and pulled out a handful of beads. "Each bead is a soul in time," she whispered.
The cat looked on judiciously.
She selected two beads — a pearl with a rosy sheen, and a rugged piece of dark jet — and strung them on a thread, knotting them together securely.
Lifting her glass, she curled the tethered beads into the palm of her hand and smiled at Wellington. "Here's to the future," she whispered.
Wellington blinked and purred.
*
That night Lucy's dream was vivid. Even though it was weighted with sleep, her skin hummed with anticipation. She moved beyond it and floated through the ether. She felt as if she were traveling, seeking him again.
Rolling restlessly, she wandered in the mists of her dream world, her body alive with sensation, tossed from need to want and cast up on the shores of desire. Breathless, she sensed his presence move closer through the swirling mists. She clutched at the pillows, desperate for release.
He was tantalizingly near, his handsome face looming over her, his eyes wild as he watched her. His breath moved across her skin, drawing a moan from her lips. A voice murmured her name. She reached for him, but he drew back, as if leading her. She struggled to follow, her will to find him fighting leaden limbs to reach out. She saw him walking ahead of her, reached out and touched his back. He stopped walking, began to turn. Then, through the mists, she heard voices in conversation.
There were voices on the stairs.
She wakened with a start, pushing back the sheet and sitting bolt upright. There was someone in the house. Burglars! Her heart rate shot up instantly, the blood rushing in her ears. She strained to hear, leaning forward on the bed. Sure enough, she heard another floorboard creak. Then, incredibly, a voice boomed out.
“Be on your way, Nathaniel, and thank you for your hospitality. I’ll send you word of my whereabouts when I’m settled.”
What in hell’s name was going on? The back of her neck prickled with tension, the palms of her hands fast growing damp. She pushed back her hair and tried to make sense of what she was hearing. It had to be burglars and there seemed to be at least two men, but they were chuckling and talking to each other in a very strange way.
What the hell were they doing in her house?
She climbed out of bed and crept across the floor so that she could hear more clearly. Moonlight carved a passage across the room and she went to step past it but froze when a board beneath her foot creaked. Dammit. She stopped dead.
“Five years will turn over soon enough and I’ll do all I can to clear your name in preparation for your return. Until then, safe travel aboard the Gloriana. Rest well and take this purse."The sound of disagreement followed. “Take it, please. Take these few small gifts to speed your passage. You’ll be comfortable here, oh and I left you a flask of rum and some food to be sure of it."There was laughter and a mumbled thank you. “Just be clear of the house before mid-morn. The servant girl comes up from the town and I didn’t have time to tell her anyone would be taking rest here.”
“Aye,"came the reply. “I’ll need to be on the look out for the Gloriana by then."
The sound of mutual backslapping reached her, and then one set of footsteps faded away down the stairs. One of them was staying, that much was clear. Silently, with her breath trapped in her lungs, she waited. Downstairs, she heard the front door closing. Then another floorboard on the landing creaked and the door to her bedroom was rattled and pushed wide open.
A figure stepped into the room and into the wedge of moonlight that spilled from the window, revealing the intruder to her startled gaze. It was only the man himself.
The man from her dreams, tall and fierce looking, but this time he looked solid, real, and he appeared to have a weapon hanging from his belt. A sword? Could it be that he had a sword? Burglars didn’t run around chatting at the top of their voices and wearing swords, surely not – not even in eccentric old Cornwall. She had to be dreaming. Yes, she realized with a sudden sense of dizzy relief.
I’m dreaming about him again, right?
Nevertheless, caution had automatically taken hold of her and she stepped back into the darkness against the wall, but not quick enough and not before the intruder caught sight of her. He stared at her and then after a silent moment, he laughed, heartily. He dropped a bundle from his shoulder to the floor by his feet, and then strode past her toward the window, presumably looking for his partner in crime.
“Well, Nathaniel,"he said, as if voicing his thoughts to the darkness below. “Old friend, you are a true gentleman. I didn’t realize that you’d be seeing to my wish for a wench for the night."
“A wench?"Lucy repeated, astonished, then jumped at the sound of her own voice.
He turned back to her and walked over. Snaking his arm around her waist, he pulled her up against him. Lucy swore in disbelief when her feet left the floor. He was well over six feet tall and very strong.
He spun her into the light to look her over, the moonlight flashing on his teeth as he smiled. “Oh yes, and you are a pretty wench aren’t you. You’ll be a fine way to pass my last night on English soil.”
Yup. I’m dreaming. Like last time only…better.
“Well, I guess I should thank you,"she stumbled, feeling rather oddly as if she was in some kind of role-playing game. Was that what dreams were like, when you were actually in them? And since when did she have the power of analysis in the depths of slumber? She pushed the thoughts away and tried to get into her role. Because she didn’t want the dream to escape now did she? If she thought about it too much she might just wake up. And lose the glorious feeling of those powerful arms around her — heaven forbid! “I’ve been called pretty before, but never a wench."
He gave a deep belly laugh. She felt it rumble right through her body, crushed as she was against him. God, he was strong.
“What should I call you then, lass?”
“Lucy,"she managed to mumble, before he buried his face in her hair, breathing deep her scent.
“Mm, you smell good, Lucy, like damsons.”
“It’s probably my shampoo or bubble bath."
“Double what,"he asked as he leaned over, taking her with him, and snatched up a small, leather-covered object from somewhere behind her.
“Bath."
It struck her as odd because, glancing down; she didn’t recognize the small table standing there by the bed. In fact, the bed looked different too. The dream had changed everything in her room. And the conversation seemed odd, surreal. But it would, wouldn’t it? That’s what dreams are like, she kept reminding herself.
The object he had lifted was some kind of bottle, and he uncorked it with his teeth and took a long draft. He stared at her thoughtfully as he swallowed. The heady aroma of potent rum flared through her nostrils. It was so real.
He offered the bottle and she took it tentatively.
The pungent alcohol swirled into her mouth. She swallowed.
Hang on a minute. If he thought the other guy had arranged for her to be there, did that mean she was supposed to be like…like a woman of the night, a prostitute even? Lucy laughed aloud at the idea, nearly choking on her rum.
“Too strong for you?”
“No, I, um, it's fine."
Could she really play the part for him, she wondered? He turned away from her and pulled the curtains wide open, flooding the room with moonlight. When he turned back, he looked her up and down and nodded approvingly. He stroked his hands over her bare shoulders and then weighed her silky covered breasts quite deliberately in strong, warm hands, drawing her breath from her lungs when his thumbs ran over her nipples.
He chuckled and began to unbutton his coat, a thigh-length number made of cloth and leather. The shirt he was wearing clung to the heat of his body. Well cut pants and knee-high boots showed off his long, strong legs. She couldn’t help staring at the strange clothing he was wearing. Especially the pants. Tightly fitting, they revealed every bit of him, including the rather impressive bulge at his groin. The fabric looked like soft suede and they were tucked down into his rough leather boots. In contrast to his heavy jacket, the shirt he wore beneath it was soft cotton and it flowed over his powerful chest, at once hiding yet revealing his physical power.
“You’re like a warrior or something,"she commented, barely realizing that she was speaking her thoughts aloud.
“No warrior no, although I’ve had a few tussles in my time."
He said it quite suggestively, and she smiled, she wouldn’t mind tussling with him, perhaps she could play the woman of the night, the wench. He didn’t seem to mind her eyeing him up while he stripped, and with the Dutch courage from the rum, Lucy began to relax and enjoy the dream. Why the hell not? Maybe it would go all the way, like it had the last time. But she hadn’t remembered any details like this, no, and she prayed she would remember it all when she awoke this time.
As soon as he had taken off his jacket, he pulled the shirt off and dumped them both on the floor. Oh yes, she thought, her eyes growing wide as she watched him strip — please let me remember every detail. He was well built, his shoulders large and powerful, his belly hard with muscle. He strode towards the bed and grabbed her wrist as he passed, pulling her down beside him. He was strong, and he obviously wasn’t used to taking ‘no’ for an answer. He pulled her into his lap.
Lucy was spellbound.
The man grinned again and stroked his hand over her cheek.
This was turning out to be one magic dream.
“Now, what manner of under garments are these?"he asked, staring, quite perturbed, at her shortie PJ’s. “And how does a man get rid of them?"With one finger under the spaghetti strap at her shoulder, he shifted the silk chemise around, watching as it moved over her breasts, still peaked from his earlier touch.
“Up,"she murmured, gesturing toward the hem of the top, breathless with anticipation to see what might happen next.
He didn’t waste a moment. He stripped the chemise over her head and then tugged at the waistband on her shorts while eyeing her bared breasts appreciatively. His eyebrows were up and he had a half smile on his face as if now amused by what she was wearing.
“Gone, and now for the drawers."
Drawers? That tickled her no end and she felt laughter rising inside her.
He tugged her shorts off, jostling her weight easily on his lap, and she wriggled to assist in their removal. The bulge of his cock brushed against her leg. Not only was he as hard as steel and his hands sure and knowing, but his gaze was so hot that she felt restless with tension. He began exploring her more demandingly when she panted against his ear. His hands molded and stroked her breasts, his cock hard against her thigh. The atmosphere between them crackled with anticipation. Her entire body was pounding with desire.
“What should I call you?"she asked, breathlessly.
“Cullen, and if you hear bad things said against me when I’ve gone on the morrow, don’t listen, Lucy, for I am a wrongly dishonored man.”
“Oh, have you been a naughty boy,"she remarked, going with the flow.
His eyebrow quirked and he looked at her, as if he was amused by her remark. “Not as ‘naughty’ as they might have you believe,"he said, looking at her, as he stroked his hand over the soft down of her pubis.
He lifted and rolled her onto her back on the bed with ease, his large hands roving over her with the expertise of a sexual connoisseur, seeking out the most tender and responsive places to touch her. She was helpless under the assault. She’d never met a man as sexually confident and demanding as this. Within moments his hands were inside her thighs and he stroked the length of them, as if admiring the softness of the skin there, before he probed into the hot niche at their juncture. Fire swept through her and down, to meet his fingers where they stroked her intimate places to melting point. He was so blatant and demanding. She hummed her approval. He kept looking at her to observe her reactions, while he stroked her with strong, firm fingers.
“Ah, sweet heaven, you are inviting, and ready for me, I see."
“It’s hardly surprising,"she managed to mumble, incredulously, before she was brought short from further comment when his thumb met the hot kernel of her clit and roved back and forth over it, relentlessly tormenting her. With his free hand he pushed two fingers inside her, where her sex clenched and tightened, aching with need. Oh, but he was torturing her.
He withdrew his hand, strands of liquid warmth from inside her clinging to his fingers. He growled and took them to his mouth to taste her. “Ah, you taste good, wench." His eyes glittered as he looked down at her spread legs.
In ordinary circumstances, she might have had a twinge of embarrassment at such a forthright sexual approach from a stranger delving between her legs. But the combination of extreme sexual arousal and the surreal dream-quality of the whole encounter negated any such misgivings. She was hot for it; she was writhing on the bed, her entire body on fire with sensation. She beckoned him closer still.
"Heh, that’s good,"he said, taking her invitation.
She swore aloud when he bent his head and she felt the warm lap of his tongue stroking firmly over her clit. The inflamed morsel of flesh reared up in demand for contact and then throbbed unbearably. His tongue thrashed against the sensitive ring of flesh that opened into her sex. She moaned and arched and rested her hands around his head, drawing him closer. She could hear his hungry gulps as he devoured her. Then she was gone on it, growing frantic as the sensation built towards its peak. His teeth latched over the stiff little organ, his tongue lapping at it from beneath. The riot of nerves condensed, then peaked and burst. Her hips bucked, a deep long shudder coursing through her body.
“Oh my, you are a lusty sort, Lucy love,"he commented a moment later, while she was still battling to regain her breathing pattern.
She barely registered his remark, because he had knelt on the bed between her legs and she was clearly aware of the very impressive erection he had pulled out of those pants he was wearing. This was crazy. She’d never had a dream this real, well, not that she remembered. My God, if only all her dreams were like this! She felt the smooth, rock-hard head of his cock probing her entrance. He’d already sent her into one red hot orgasm, and she’d barely recovered. She trembled, melting into the pillows, staring at his fabulous body and the cock that was going to feel so, so good.
Her hips arched to take him and she reached up to his shoulders, and yes, when he thrust inside her, it felt like the answer for everything her body craved, his shaft pushing high up inside her and touching her deepest places. A cry of joy and intoxicated, joyful laughter escaped her open mouth. He kissed her, his tongue pushing into her mouth, bringing her the taste of her own desire, and she grabbed at him, her hands alive to the feel of hard muscle under them, her whole self wanting to clutch and cling to his magnificent body.
“Come on my pretty, let me at you."He grappled her buttocks into his hands, lifting her easily from the bed and angling her hips as he lifted her higher still, thrusting hard and fast in a rolling rhythm.
“Let me at you? Christ, aren’t you deep enough?" Again, she laughed, the sound escaping her in an exalted victory cry. She had never been probed so deeply and so thoroughly before, and the man’s stamina truly was the stuff of dreams.
He joined her obvious pleasure. “Oh, yes, I love a wench who can take it, you’re a supple little thing aren’t you, can’t remember the last time I enjoyed riding a woman like this."
Even as he said the words he pulled her roving hands together and latched them over her head in one mighty fist, taking full control of her body. She bit her lip, cursing under her breath, her head rolling as she was thoroughly possessed and submitted to his thorough probing. Her throat was burning, her entire body locked into the experience. He began to buck at the hips, his cock swelling even more as it rode up against her cervix, jamming into her most sensitive places.
Surely, if he came there, it would be too much to bear, too much exquisite agony? But she didn’t have time to contemplate it any further, because he ran his thumb over her swollen clit just as her rammed home again and his cock leapt. Her flesh closed, melting and throbbing in a series of dynamite-fuelled spasms, just as he unloaded himself deep inside her.
He stayed with her for a few moments and they both savored the intense climax, rocking together in the moonlit room. With regret, she felt him pull out. He rolled onto his back.
“Can we do that again before I wake up,"she whispered, her entire body trembling in the aftermath.
“Yes, lass, we’ll do it again, and over again, until the sun rises and I have to leave to board my ship. Suits me fine that does."And with that he began fisting his cock in one strong hand.
She couldn’t believe it. She’d said it jokingly but he was ready to go again. His cock was lifting before her very eyes, although it had hardly subsided since the last round, and then he sat up onto the edge of the bed and lifted her onto his lap, so that her legs splayed open and her glistening sex was thoroughly exposed to him. He murmured admiringly while he touched her there and then he rubbed his cock against her sensitized flesh, sending a hot wave of renewed lust through her.
Dreams were never normally like this, she just about had time to reflect, before he maneuvered her onto his cock and glided inside her, filling her to the hilt.
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