Within this frame, his curse is time…
Hannah Keys thinks she’s setting off on the trip of her dreams, but after one mishap after another—beginning with her best friend abandoning her in the airport and ending with the man of her dreams dead—she’s renaming it the vacation from hell.
When Hannah Keys discovers a four-hundred-year-old portrait in
Lockhart Munro has been cursed inside the portrait until he meets Hannah Keys. For four hundred years, no one has heard him or seen him, let alone touched him. The one woman who can do all these things may be the key to his long-awaited freedom.
But if Hannah sets Lockhart free from his prison, will she be cursed to spend the rest of her lifetime without him?
Or perhaps freeing Lockhart will be just the beginning…
Lost Time Excerpt:
He booted the door shut, all but tossed her on the bed and fell on her, taking up right where he’d left off, his face between her legs. But it wasn’t long before that wasn’t enough for him. Hannah anticipated his need, because it was her own as well. There was no reason for the lace to be between them any longer now that they were alone in her room. She lifted her hips and he pulled the fabric away from her vigorously—she thought she heard it tear.
He stilled again as he looked down at her, fully exposed to his view. His breath rushed from his lungs as he groaned, another primitive but titillating sound. His mouth opened as if he were surprised. Hannah watched him, wondering at this reaction.
He then took his hands and all but framed them around her exposed flesh. He ran his fingers over her bare skin, fingering it, trying her out, touching her like a new toy. “You have no hair here,” he said, sounding astounded.
Hannah was taken aback by his reaction. Her face suffused with heat, making her self-conscious. Did he not like that? She didn’t think that European woman were much different from North American women anymore. Canadian boys preferred a bald beaver.
“Do you not like it this way?” she asked, apprehensively, wishing she could cover herself.
His dark eyes shot to hers. “I…I’ve never seen the like,” he breathed. His smouldering gaze warmed her as she saw the raw pleasure return to his gaze. He looked down at her, and his nostrils flared as he groaned in rapture, licking his lips.
He lunged at her, much like he’d done on the kitchen table. He kissed her bare mound slowly and tenderly, as she would expect him to kiss her mouth. It felt strangely intimate and erotic.
“How did ya accomplish this?” he asked, his breath heaving. “’Tis lovely. You are so smooth and soft.” He skimmed his closed lips everywhere, all over her, his unshaven jaw rasping against her bare skin, making her shudder with sensitivity.
She chuckled. “It’s magic.”
He stilled and his gaze shot to hers. “Are ya a witch?”
She laughed uneasily. “No, but I’ve been called something similar a time or two.”
She thrust her hands into his hair and pulled her knees back, opening herself to him, and he continued his exploration.
“By the Christ, lass, ya taste of sweet honey,” he groaned, then finally swept his tongue over the hot, wet opening begging for his attention. He licked through the slickness leading straight to her delicate clit, a deep sound of approval rumbling through his chest. He probed and sucked the sensitive bud almost painfully.
“Not so rough,” she admonished.
“I’m sorry, I can’t help it,” he murmured, taking up a much softer stroke with his tongue.
“Mmm,” she moaned, encouraging this new method. “Ahh, yes!” she purred as she felt the first stirrings of orgasm uncurling deep inside her. “Swirl your tongue clockwise,” she panted, wriggling her backside, straining to increase the pressure now. He hesitated. Again, she wondered if he didn’t appreciate her telling him what she liked, but she was too far gone to give a shit about his delicate ego at the moment. She slid her hand down between them, pausing to slip the tip of her finger between his damp lips, effectively lubricating it. She began to demonstrate for him what she wanted him to do with his tongue.
He watched—stunned, she thought—before being mesmerised by her caressing the engorged bud. Circling fast then slow, one way then the other, creating delicious friction before flicking over her clit quickly, simulating what she wanted him to do to her. She tapped the nub lightly and started again. She trembled at the sensation of not only the raw heat she was producing for herself, but also the almost wicked feeling it gave her to have him watching her do it. She could feel his hot breath escalating as his excitement grew, creating a tantalising sensation fanning across her exposed flesh.
He snarled again, an animalistic primitive sound, knocking her hand away with a swat of his own. He lapped and teased just as she wanted.
Hannah’s muscles bunched and flexed as she strained to drag it out. Now that he’d finally got the rhythm, it felt so incredibly good—she wanted it to last a little longer. Her hands fisted and her toes curled as she tried to prolong the sweet suffering.
©Copyright H K Carlton 2013
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H K is a multi-published author of erotic, historical and contemporary romance.
H K’s Blog http://pickagenrealready.blogspot.ca