Midsummer Night's Dream-Man Blog Hop

A Midsummer Night's Dream-Man
A JustRomance.me Bloghop

Welcome! I'm Juniper Bell. In my upcoming Regency Erotica release, MY THREE MASTERS, the young nurse Miranda Brown spends her nights in feverish fantasies about her master, the Marquis the Beaumont:

In the dark, my face burned as I recalled some of the Marquise’s stories about her husband. At Eton he’d been caught in bed with three students and a professor—at the same time. He was equally voracious with men and women, and his sexual appetites knew no bounds. I’m ashamed to admit that I lived for those stories. Shocking and titillating though they were, when I crawled into my tiny cot in my mistress’s dressing room, I thought of nothing else. It was as if I were transported into another world. A dungeon, perhaps, where I hung helplessly in chains, my arms stretched overhead, my naked body exposed to the ruthless black gaze of the devil himself. With that sardonic twist of his mouth, he’d come closer, closer, then he’d lift one gloved hand, touch his finger to my nipple and a shivery sensation would sing through me. I’d sag against the chains, panting and begging for… I knew not what.

Exclusive for the Midsummer Night’s Dream-Man Blog Hop, here’s an expanded, “deleted scene” glimpse into Miranda’s forbidden dream world. 

 Miranda's Midsummer Dream

The expensive leather of the Marquis’s glove felt like a tabby cat’s tongue against my tender nipple. No one had ever touched me there before. Only once had I done so myself, when I crept to a mirror late at night and explored myself by the light of a candle. I’d pinched my own nipples between my fingers, shocked by the sweetness that lanced through me. This was different. The Marquis lifted my nipple as if he owned it, as if he knew something about it I did not. And so he did. He knew that if he rubbed it between the thumb and forefinger of his gloved hand, it would answer with a pulsating burn. He knew it would grow plump and swollen under his attentions. He knew that golden fire would streak to my belly and make the hidden place between my legs ache with need.

I couldn’t bear it. I twisted as far as I could to make him stop.

“What do you think you’re doing?” With one firm hand, he gripped my waist, his thumb pressing into the little dip inside my hip bone. I burned, flames licking at my sex.

“Stop. Please stop.”

“Little liar.” Still holding my hip steady, he bunched one of my bosoms high, a ferocious gesture that made my nipple stand out, red and eager, like a saluting soldier. “You want this more than your next breath. Admit it.”

He flicked his thumb against my frantic nipple. Fever flashed through me, a lunatic, wild need I’d never felt before. “No!” I cried. My body contradicted me, swaying toward him with shameless want. My body might be like softened candle wax in his hands, but I’d claim my independence with my words.

He gave a low, amused chuckle, then shifted his hand from my hip to my bottom, where it joined my upper thigh. He squeezed hard, spreading the two globes apart, even as he lowered his mouth to my bosom. My eyes widened at the sight of his black head bent over my chest, and then I felt a warm, wet sucking at the nipple.

A brilliant spasm ripped through me. I arched my entire body toward him. I thought I might die. Of shock? Of pleasure? It was all the same. I moaned something that had no words. Lucky it didn’t, because they would have been embarrassing pleas for more.

“Tell me again that you don’t want me to take you,” growled the Marquis around my nipple. “That your hot little quim isn’t begging me to fuck you hard and long.”

Forbidden words, nasty words, thrilling words that I’d only heard from the Marquise’s stories. I shook my head violently from side to side.

A rough finger entered me, sliding into the slippery cave of my sheltered innocence. Why so slick and liquid? I didn’t know. I knew only a restless craving for something hard, something that would rub the itch I couldn’t reach, the need I didn’t understand. I pushed against the finger, desperate for contact. The palm of his glove deliberately brushed against a spot I knew well from my own nighttime explorations. It flamed into glorious life, more radiant than the solitary candle that lit our dungeon.

He knew it, too. Of course he did. The Marquis knew everything. He pressed against that spot, just so, making subtle circles that made my legs tremble.

“Oh please,” I whispered.

“Please stop?” Oh, that sardonic, mocking tone! I wanted to hit him. I wanted to bite him. I wanted to devour him. The hand between my legs slowed to a crawl, dragging a long, lingering stroke along my soaking wet cleft.

“No,” I whispered. “No!”

“No what?” He dipped his head to my bosom and scraped his teeth along my nipple. “No to this?”

I shook my head wildly. I didn’t know the right answer. I knew only that I’d die if he stopped.

“No to this?” He tightened his possessive grip on my sex, sending shooting stars all the way to my toes, which lifted off the floor. All my weight rested on his hand; as did all my happiness. He gave me a slight shake. I felt my bosom jiggle in the cool dungeon air. Surely steam must be rising off me.

“No!” I wailed the word. “No!”

“Never say no to your master,” growled the Marquis.. “Understand?”

“Yes,” Speared on his gloved hand, I shrieked as he ruthlessly worked his way deeper into my passage. He sucked my nipple into his mouth. “Yes!” And then he rubbed against that magic spot, that engorged and sensitized button, and I shattered. “Ye-eeeess,” I sang as I spiraled into a realm of pure sensation, a world where pleasure echoed through me like the deep tolls of a bell, a world so different from …

A bell. A bell was indeed ringing. My mistress’s bell. I blinked, lying on my narrow cot, my hand between my legs. I snatched it away, my own sharp scent rising to my nostrils.

“Miranda!”

I wiped my hand on my shift and swung my legs over the edge of my cot. My heart skipped and fluttered as I tried to regain my equilibrium. It was time to resume my duties. My dull, dreary days of tending to the Marquise and living for mere glimpses of the Marquis de Beaumont. Time to resume the long wait for the night, when my dreams would reign and the Marquis would come for me once again. 

MY THREE MASTERS will be out on August 2 from Ellora’s Cave. You can add it to your wishlist here, and read the blurb and an excerpt by scrolling down. To celebrate, I’m running a special side contest for all you blog-hoppers. If you leave me a comment, I’ll put you in the running for a copy of the first book in this series, MY THREE LORDS. The two books are both stand-alones, but hey – the more smutty Regency fun, the better, right?

To return to the blog hop, click the banner at the top of this post. Happy midsummer night’s dreamin'!