When Raven told me we'd been invited here, I was all of a flutter. Because after all, I find it hard to think of people two hundred years in the future wanting to read about my life. Yes, it's not of the norm for my times, but I have no wondrous things such as IPhones and IPads and I all those other things you keep chatting about. I snigger just have my-ISelf.
Life in some way for someone with shall we say a respectable inheritance is a lot easier—well a lot simpler—than for you in the twenty first century. We don't have things like smelly motorcars, and immediate attention —which necessitates immediate action—from anywhere I the world. (In case you're wondering how I know al these things, I read Raven's contemporary books, and ask questions.) But life can be fraught at times. We are the belonging of our parent and then out husband, and are not expected to have a mind of our own.
I don't adhere to that way of thinking, and for a while my life was looking I believe you say…iffy…
Luckily Nash happened along and changed it for the better. How? Ah that would be telling. I can show you the blurb for the book about our story, and give you a wee teaser though…
A chance meeting at a masked ball leads to explosive and unforgettable sex for both Nash and Felicity.
Reunited under dangerous circumstances, they realize they may have to fight for their love, especially when Felicity is promised to Nash's brother.
With the future of the country at stake and unsure who to trust, can their be a future for the star stuck lovers?
And a wee tease
His decision made, Nash lifted her from him. "Stay there whilst I get what we need." He collected cloths and water, scissors and razor, in short shrift. "So where shall we mark? I thought here." He ruffled the curls that covered her quim. "As close to heaven as we can make it."
She nodded and sighed. "How beautiful. Will you mark yourself the same?"
He shook his head and she went ashen. "No, I won't mark myself. You'll do it for me. I will however do the shaving. I'm not sure how well you would operate a cut throat and strop, and I need my cock and balls to fill you again."
Her color returned and she giggled, even though her eyes were still shadowed by some indefinable sorrow. "Then who'll begin?"
"It is usually ladies first. Let me shave us both whilst you decide on the design." He cut her curls as short as he could. Her eyes widened as the cold steel skimmed over her skin. It seemed his lady was oh so receptive to that cold touch. If only he had some ice he could introduce her to many more sensations. Nash let the closed blades stroke her cleft, and laughed softly as she gasped and took a deep shuddering breath. It was with reluctance he put the scissors down and picked up the razor and strop and denuded a small circle of hair just above the entrance to her channel. He wanted to pin her under him, and tease every last inch of her with the chill of anticipation before showing her how heat and cold could work so well together.
She didn't move but watched him with wide eyes. Each scrape of the steel, each tiny piece of skin that showed under his blade, brought more tiny drops of perspiration to her skin. Her body had taken on a soft rosy sheen, her eyes cloudy with desire, and Nash wanted her with a need so fierce it took his breath away. Carefully he set the razor on the table and moved, to thrust his tongue between her lips. She met it with a determination to match his, and then to his delight, pinched one of his nipples. He had to force himself to move back.
"If we carry on no ink will be used, and you will be bare for nothing." Was that thin, reedy voice really his? He needed to get a grip on his emotions.
"Never for nothing, but I do wish to see it finished." She sounded as disturbed as he.
Nash ran his hands over his head. He needed to stop them shaking. Then once more he bent to his task. When he'd finished, she rubbed her hands over the area.
"It feels so different, in a very good way. Now you?"
"Now me." He set the razor to his groin, and looked at his cock. It was once more standing up and pre cum had leaked onto the head. "I may need some help here." He gestured toward his prick, which waved as if in acknowledgement of his interest. "To ensure I don't ah, nick it or any such thing."
Madame Felice rolled her eyes. Even with only tiny holes cut in the mask the gesture was obvious. "Like this do you mean?" She set her mouth to the head and licked the juices there. The delicate scrape of her tongue was spine tingling. Nash could hardly remember what he was supposed to be doing.
"Not if you want me to finish the inking," he managed to say.
She lifted her head, and his cock slipped out of her mouth with a tiny pop. "A pity, I was beginning to enjoy myself. Perhaps we will both be better satisfied if I just hold it," she paused. "For now."
"Perhaps. Please." He couldn't form any more words in a coherent form, as she took hold of his horn, and held it firmly with both hands.
"Concentrate, 'tis your turn to be prepared." She lifted one finger and waggled it at him. "Then we can both be rewarded."
Nash took a deep breath and steadied himself, before he set the razor to his skin once more and made short work of his removing his own hair. Satisfied, he set the cutthroat and strop back onto the table. "So what are we inking?"
"Two hearts entwined." She sniggered. "Ah so trite, but oh so true. You have made me realize I have one, and now I have shared it."
If he hadn't been entranced with her, that sentence would have done it. As it was an inferno of sensations filled him, and he vowed he would find out more about his lady. The words 'his lady' hit him. He knew they were true.
She touched his arm. His cock jerked and protested at the reduction in contact.
So was he and not just for a tattoo.
"Then try to relax." With careful precision he set the needle to her skin. Her fingers tightened on his cock, and she gasped and bit her lip but didn't move.
"It will sting," Nash warned her. "And I will need to break the skin many times." He inserted the ink into the tiny needle prick, and made several more before she had time to voice her thoughts. Her hands were tight, but not uncomfortable on him.
"It is a sweet sting, My Lord. It marks me as proud to be as one with you." Her softly spoken words filled him with a fierce heat. He needed her again. But not, he vowed, until they were both inked. Then to spare their marks he would show her how many other ways there were to make love.
Nash bent his head and applied himself to his task.
Nash's Niche is available from Evernight
Now some nosy links
Raven lives in Scotland, along with her husband and their two cats—their children having flown the nest—surrounded by beautiful scenery, which inspires a lot of the settings in her books.
She is used to sharing her life with the occasional deer, red squirrel, and lost tourist, to say nothing of the scourge of Scotland—the midge.
A lover of reading, she appreciates the history inside a book, and the chance to peek into the lives of those from years ago. Raven admits that she enjoys the research for her books almost as much as the writing; so much so, that sometimes she realizes she's strayed way past the information she needs to know, and not a paragraph has been added to her WIP.
Her lovely long-suffering husband is learning to love the dust bunnies, work the Aga, and be on stand-by with a glass of wine.
You can find out more about Raven here…
https://www.facebook.com/rmcallan (my page)
https://www.facebook.com/ravenmcallan (author page)