I’m back in the less-than-sunny UK, and it’s time for another fabulous visit from the Never Ending blog tour. Today, Jaye Peaches joins us, with her latest hot Victorian spanking romance, A Strict Gentleman.
In the book, twenty-three-year-old Kelly Regan didn’t expect much excitement when she took a job as a curator at a historic estate, but upon encountering a beautiful, mysteriously powerful mirror she suddenly finds herself transported back to the Victorian era.
Kelly is intrigued by the estate’s owner, the handsome bachelor Sir Henry Yarlswood, and in order to learn more about life in his household she impersonates another woman and obtains a position as his maid. But Henry is not a man who tolerates dishonestly from his staff, and after her deception is discovered Kelly’s bottom is bared for a painful, embarrassing spanking.
The stern punishment only increases Kelly’s desire to know more about her handsome employer, but after she is caught snooping through his personal effects she soon finds herself stripped naked for an even more shameful chastisement. Despite her sore bottom, however, she is deeply aroused by Henry’s firm-handed dominance, and when he claims her properly his masterful lovemaking leaves her spent and satisfied. But will their blossoming romance be enough to keep her by his side, even if it means leaving her old life behind forever?
Publisher’s Note: A Strict Gentleman includes spankings and sexual scenes. If such material offends you, please don’t buy this book.
Assume the position and brace yourself… Here comes the sizzling (18+) teaser!
***
Reaching round, he hitched up her skirts, fighting the petticoats until he had hold of her drawers. With a yank, he brought them down past her arse. Spreading his fingers, he clutched at a cheek, and squeezed the warm lobe until it felt like it might melt in his palm.
She gasped, teetering on her tiptoes as he kneaded her naked buttock. The swell of desire extended to the end of his cock, filling it with hot blood and pushing it up. She rocked her hipbone against it, and it was his turn to gasp.
“Why, you vixen,” he charged her.
She giggled.
He still held the duster. “You shall be punished. I’m going to whip you with this,” he murmured, nibbling on her earlobe.
“No!” she squawked. “I’ve not done a thing wrong. It will hurt,” she added indignantly.
“Ha, I decide, do I not? And it won’t hurt, not in the way you think it will.” He pointed at the table. “Bend over and keep your skirts up.”
“Sir, this is most inappropriate. Someone might come—”
“Who? I keep this house quiet of servants for a reason. Now, bend!”
She fumbled with her petticoats and pouted. She frowned so sweetly, it hardened his cock to see her little displays of defiance knowing shortly she would be begging for relief and pleasure.
She folded over the end of the dining table with aplomb, dropping her drawers at the same time. As for the skirts, she hugged them under her hips, protecting her from the rigid edge of the oak.
He lifted the duster—a rod to which the feathers of a goose had been attached—and swept it across her bare arse. She squealed and her face screwed up tight.
“It hurts, it hurts,” she wailed.
However, rather than lift it off, he spread the feathers across her rump and dragged them down the back of her thighs, then reversing direction, up between her legs.
“Ooo!” She knocked her knees together and trapped the duster as it glided up her slit and furrow. The feathers became wet with her nectar.
“Again?” he asked, already knowing the answer.
“Yes, please,” she quipped.
***
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