I adore this cover. I suppose I got lucky with it. The colours and composition of the image actually seem to hint at what you'll find inside - a rather dark story, actually. Phantasmagoria was not an easy book to write, and for an erotic romance, perhaps it's not an easy book to read. Hopefully, it is a story that will leave a lasting impression.
Hey, we writers all have to aspire to something.
Hope you enjoy the teaser, and please do stop by the comments for a chance to win a book from my backlist.
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Vaughan folded his arms. ‘Please. Do I give ecstasy so freely?’ His smile sweetened, instantly lightening the mood. ‘Perhaps I do. Perhaps that’s why you’re here.’ He artlessly stretched behind him and clasped a chair back. The movement thrust his chest into prominence, making her smile in turn. ‘Why have you come, Annabella, my nightingale?’
He touched her face, trailed a finger down to her throat. ‘What’s the draw, the promise of a gothic nightmare or the bitter-sweet terror of my lips?’ His kiss fluttered over her pulse point. Bella closed her eyes and breathed in his scent, rosemary laced with musk. How she’d missed him. How she longed to return his caress. One simple touch and her body was weeping for him, but too often he’d teased her like this and then pushed her away. ‘And why no Lucerne? Were you so sure of a welcome without him?’ He stepped back suddenly, his tone abruptly cold.
Bella’s eyes flickered open. ‘Am I not welcome—’ she began, and then she caught his smile. He was playing with her, always playing with her.
‘But of course. You are most welcome.’ He took her hand and traced a slow circle around the palm. Bella watched his long fingers, imagining their trace against a more intimate area of her anatomy. ‘Let me give you a proper welcome to Pennerley.’ He pulled her, not into his arms for the kiss she longed for, but towards the stairs and down onto all fours.
Bella squealed as her nose pressed to the ancient grain of the wood. It was knotted and splintered in places, worn smooth in the centre where she knelt. Her nose prickled at the smell of dust and linseed. Vaughan threw her skirts over her back. For a moment she felt nothing, then his hand, warm and firm pressed between her legs and found her wet and eager.
‘Why Annabella,’ he drawled, ‘I do believe you’ve missed me.’
‘Damn you,’ she cursed as the familiar dribble of oil slithered between her cheeks. Nothing had changed. He still didn’t care a jot for her feelings or the truth of Lucerne’s absence. He cared only for the instant gratification of his own desires.
She shifted indignantly against the intrusive press of his fingers, but couldn’t stop the anticipatory heat from flaring inside her womb. She’d been waiting for this, longing for him. She knew what was coming, hated it, needed it, this sin. She should have known what to expect.
His fingers stretched her. His cock pushed in, making her empty cunt clench tight. She meant to push back against him, knock him off balance, but instead her bottom rubbed eagerly against his loins. It was so good to feel him inside her again, such welcome relief for the nineteen days of torture she’d spent without him.
‘Easy,’ he whispered, when she twisted her head to look at him. ‘You’ll come too fast.’ Bella didn’t care. She’d been wound too tight and all the emotion and rage she’d felt was spilling out of her. This carnal invasion, this thrusting heat – it was exactly what she wanted. ‘Bella,’ he hissed between his teeth. A sound broke in her throat in response, a hopeless expression of her longing. He was right. She had missed him, and more than he would ever truly understand. She loved him, but she had no idea how to tell him that or whether he wanted to hear it.
Her head was spinning. Her knees ached. His scent surrounded her, musky and animal beneath the hint of cologne. And at the point of their connection, a pulse was raging, driving her movements, dictating everything in simple, so very simple, animalistic terms.
She came hard, with a long rolling shudder, while Vaughan held himself still within her rear. Once the pulses had faded, he began to move again.
‘Again,’ he demanded, forcing her hips down with his palm, while the fingers of his other hand teased her still sensitive bud.
‘No.’ Bella gasped. ‘Vaughan, I can’t.’ She pressed herself to the ancient wood while colour burned her cheeks, feeling both elated and shamed. ‘I’ve been stuck in a coach for days. You could at least offer me a drink before you demand four orgasms in a row.’
‘I’ve only demanded two, and a chance to finish off.’ Chuckling, he patted her bottom. ‘But very well. Foster!’ he bellowed.
Bella’s eyes snapped open. ‘Your servant!’ She scrambled forward, but Vaughan held her tight about her hips. ‘Easy now, what’s the problem? Your drink’s coming.’
Bella hid her head in embarrassment. She’d been here just five minutes and within another five every servant in the place would know their master had swived her in the arse. She heard the screech of a door hinge, and Foster appeared by Vaughan’s side.
‘Bring me the port. My guest’s thirsty.'