It’s my pleasure today to introduce a special guest blogger to Seven Sexy Scribes —the lovely Renee Vincent from Turquoise Morning Press.
Renee has a treat to share and anyone who knows me already knows I love horrible puns so I will just come clean and say Renee’s bathhouse excerpt from her newest book “Raeliksen” is pretty damn steamy… so is the cover see for yourself!
Book One of the
Emerald Isle Trilogy
Available now fromhttp://www.turquoisemorningpress.com/
Mara, the daughter of an Irish clansman, was raised to believe the men of the North are heathens - murderous pagans without a moral bone in their bodies. Despite warnings of the Northmen's raids, and the growing threat of another incursion, Mara is continually drawn to her favorite place - the River Shannon.
Dægan Ræliksen, a wealthy chieftain from Norway's frozen fjords, secretly discovers Mara at the water's edge. He is charmed by her beauty and sensuous grace. As the days pass, his contentment with simply watching her grows thin. He can no longer deny his unabated desire for the young maiden. His search for a wife has ended.
However, Mara and Dægan come face-to-face in a time when Ireland is in turmoil - when every Irishman is being called up to fight against the Nordic foreigners. In these times of upheaval, how can Dægan make peace with Mara's father and acquire the woman he treasures? Furthermore, can Mara move past her fears and find the noble man within the savage?
The door of the bathhouse flung open and the two staggered in from under Dægan’s cloak, locked in each other’s arms. Once inside, Dægan kicked the door closed while still delving into her eager kiss and fumbling to find the cursed lock on the door.
Mara already started feeling the warmth of the wood and stone room soak through her, grateful for the oddity of the Norse’s bathing habits as they had put a stagnant, sweltering atmosphere to good use.
Unable to leave her kiss, Dægan whipped his sodden cloak across the room and removed his boots and kirtle, heavy, too, with rain, dropping them carelessly on the bench behind him. The slapping collapse of his wet garment seemed to slow his wild spontaneity to an attentive act of seduction. The glow of the amber flame, in the corner of the room softened the rigid bones of his face, but it did nothing to ease the callousness of his smile as he circled her.
Her braid, he moved to the side and breathed in carefully the smell of her body, the way the oils from yesterday’s bath harmoniously mixed with the nostalgia of the Erin rain. His breath came soft and hot behind her ear, while his hands snaked tenderly around her throat and down below her chin to undo the two brooches at her chest.
Without her realizing, he had released the jeweled clasp and chain, and let the drenched fine cloak fall heavily to the ground, and then he went to work, undoing the laces of her dress. He was talented with his hands, being able to trace the thin vertical line of her spine that connected her slender neck to her finely widened hips with one, while stripping her from her gown with the other, letting it too, fall to the floor.
He slowly turned her around to face him, not shy in dropping his eyes to her glistening chest. There was another smile on his face, one of kinder birth than before, as he intimately seemed to memorize each curve of her blushing body.
Likewise, Mara let her eyes plummet to his waist, seeing his arousal as visible as a winter moon. But her innocent glance must have become an inseparable stare, for he stepped closer, asking, “Do I frighten you?”
Mara lugged her eyes from his midriff to his face. “Nay, Dægan…”
Her voice trailed as he slowly neared her face, eye to eye, mouth to mouth, until suddenly his lips pressed so gingerly against hers, endearing at first, then greedily as the kiss lengthened. He coiled his arm around her back as his other hand slid over the silken skin of her buttocks, pulling her close enough to nestle his hardened body against the soft of hers.
Dægan fell away from her lips. “May I?”
Mara lifted her brows in wonder. “May you what?”
Without taking his eyes from her, he dragged a bucket of water across the floor with his foot. “May I show you how sufficient a few buckets of water can be?”
Mara hesitated at the thought of him bathing her. It was quite a personal thing to bathe another, more so between lovers, and how difficult it would be to stand there and let it happen. “Dægan…”
He dropped to his knees, sliding his hands down the back of her legs, tarrying around her thighs. “Please?”
A nervous smile crept in slowly. “You make it very hard for me to forbid you of anything.”
Dægan’s reaction to those words nearly sent her heart to slam out of beat as his eyes befit well the scoundrel smile he flashed in response. Before she could even think to change her mind, he dunked the soap into the bucket and lifted her foot to his knee, rubbing her calf and shins with the bubbly lather. After cleaning her entire right leg, he wasted no time in doing the left, and then stood to lather her stomach, breasts and arms, taking great care to be gentle.
And overly thorough.
Nervously, Mara lifted her chin as he crept up her neck and around her shoulders, finding it amazingly difficult to look him in the eye, for having a man actually cleaning and caressing every part of her body without a cause for shame was more than she expected this night. Every sweep and slippery stroke of his hands coerced a desire low in her stomach, an aching that consumed her every thought. She closed her eyes, following the enjoyable play of his hands as he left no part of her untouched.
All too soon, she found him pressed against her soapy body, whisking her near-orgasmic daydream away with one wolfish smile.
Mara couldn’t breathe, but the lack of oxygen hardly inhibited her mind from inventing an excuse. “Have you not already had your bath this evening?”
“Not by the pleasure of your hands.”
Dægan gathered them, along with the soap, and placed them on his chest. “Come now, love. Touch me.”
Eventually, without his coercion, she stroked her thumbs across his nipples, feeling their unexpected tautness, and then back again, creating the start of satisfaction on his face. Mara simpered as well, liking the freedom to touch him wherever she so dared, and the liberty of enjoying every wicked moment of it.
She circled her hands around his chest, slowly at first, taking in every dip and bulge of his torso from navel to neck, then uninhibitedly around his shoulders and arms. Her curious exploration turned into a sensuous display of greed, and, quite honestly, she adored the feel of him.
His skin was smooth, stretched taut against his bulging muscles, and had it not been for the soap that lathered him, she dared to taste it beneath her tongue.
Uninhibitedly, she caressed the flat of his stomach, feeling him tighten with anticipation as she dipped further below his waist, and gripped his erection. She felt him shudder like he was a newly taken adolescent boy.
Mara fancied the sound of his uncontainable groan. Its low and deep hum pulled at the very tiny threads of her unraveling restraint. She liked the feel of him in her hands, the slippery hardness of his body that seemed to change and thrive with every movement of her fist. She watched his breath catch and his eyes close. He was submissive to her every command and yet wildly savage in his naked form.
Suddenly, he slipped from her clenched hand, dropped to pick up a bucket of clean water, and dumped it on the both of them.
Mara gasped at the sudden shock of cool water running down her back, making fast to scream, but as soon as she was able to catch her breath, another bucket descended upon her, washing the last of the lather from their bodies.
Dægan took her in a swift embrace, finding her mouth again, as it was already open, ready to complain. He claimed her lips, taking whatever sounds she had released in surprise, and then her breasts. He brushed his tongue over a hardened nipple with so much fervor that she, herself, felt the very passion upon which his chained desire aggressively tugged.
She was addicted to his touch, his moods of fire and ice, the unpredictable shift of tenderness and greed. She wanted more. So much more, and was not afraid to tell him. She begged him, and he seemed to nearly come out of his skin with excitement.
Dægan carried her to the bench and sat her on his lap. He slid his hand down her stomach and between her legs, gently spreading his fingers within her warmth. He found her to be suitably ready for him, yet she was not prepared for the unexpected finger that entered her.
* * * * *
Wasn’t that Lovely? I feel clean and fresh as an Irish spring. Thank you Renee!
Click on Raeliksen’s book cover to visit Renee’s website.
Amazon (print): http://www.amazon.com/R%C3%A6liksen-Book-Emerald-Isle-Trilogy/dp/1935817019/ref=sr_1_4?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1281933308&sr=8-4
Turquoise Morning Press (print and ebook formats): http://www.turquoisemorningpress.com/2010/08/rliksen-by-renee-vincent.html