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© 2009, Bonita Reviews For MORE THAN GOLD by Bonita 4 cherries from Wisteria, Whipped Cream
Reviews Sample Chapter For MORE THAN GOLD by Bonita A beautiful stranger came to me, in
the weary night What was supposed to be a few friendly drinks, turned into a night of drunken debauchery. But that wasn’t what surprised Nash. It was the ravishing female who entered his den and captivated every manly urge he possessed. She swept into the room with authority, her calculating gaze scanning the small crowd, her presence demanding attention. At least, she grabbed his attention as though she wrapped her dainty fist around his crisp cravat and yanked him to his feet. Blood rushed below. A gorgeous, voluptuous puss. No woman had recently beguiled him in such a way. His trousers tightened and his stomach turned in anticipation. It was almost suffocating how she raked her eyes slowly over him, appearing uninterested after a lagging perusal. Women usually sought him out, what was wrong with this girl? However, her lack of interest piqued his. With restrained lust, his gaze roamed over her delicate features, making his gentlemanly control falter. He took a pull of the gin-sling, intent gaze on the woman. Truthfully, it wasn’t the strong drink that he wanted, more like a warm and willing female. If his active imagination should speak freely, he’d much rather spill the intoxicating liquid between her soft bosom and savour the taste from there. Trail his eager tongue over the silky texture of her globes, then press them together with his hands and nibble on her mountainous nipples. What a delectable treat that would be. Drunk, sexual abandon. What more could a man wish for? At odds of how the mysterious woman made him feel; a gnawing urge settled in Nash’s stomach. Maybe too much alcohol was taunting him, making him wish he’d died and gone to heaven, a whimsical place where men and women played a wild, sweaty game of catch with their naked bodies, and she was his prey. He shut his eyes tightly, but when he opened them again, she did not disappear. Nash gazed up to the soiled dove on his lap. “Eloise, you didn’t tell me you had a new girl.” Madame Eloise, known far and wide for the pleasure of her company, glanced at the entrance, and he knew by her startled expression she didn’t recognize the woman. “She isn’t one of mine, Ollie, and besides, she doesn’t look like the pleasuring kind.” Eloise leaned down and flicked the tip of her warm tongue along his neck, up to his earlobe. At any other time, ’twould have caused a heated flush through his body. Hell, he was just a man. Any caress, whether shy and sensual or cheap and wanton, usually forced his manly needs to the forefront. However, this evening it repulsed him, and he knew exactly who to blame. “You’re mine, remember?” Eloise purred. “Eager Eli will take care of you better than any woman in all of England, you wretched tease. We both know how eager you are to own the spread of my thighs and take me where no other man could.” Aware of his sudden interest in the girl, Eloise shifted on his lap, resting her plump bottom on his growing erection. Nash squinted against the sudden pain that shot up to his eyeballs. “Jesus Christ, woman!” He grabbed her hips roughly and removed her from his lap, momentarily regretting his bark; but by God, if Eli had twisted one more time she would have maimed him. A known scoundrel like himself couldn’t possibly go on living with an invalid cock. A chill raced up his spine at the thought. Out of the corner of his ever-watchful eye, he noticed the strange woman being approached by a couple of his chums. The stunning smile she gave them could have melted a frozen lake, and he itched to approach her from behind, to gently skim the nape of her neck with his fingers. Feel her body’s reaction. Watch goose flesh kiss her delicate skin. Her sinful golden complexion made her look like a Spanish flower, ripe and ready to be plucked and thoroughly plundered. Nash closed his eyes, sniffed the air, pretending he could get a whiff of her scent. Somehow he knew it would be delicious. When he opened his eyes again, there was a certain darkness in his thoughts that reflected a room only bathed in moonlight, and her naked body spread upon his bed. And then his breath caught, for she pushed the blood red hood away from her face, and the exquisite shine of her short midnight curls reminded him of black pearls. A bounty worthy of only the most feared and finest pirate. Absorbed in the delicate features of her face, Nash hadn’t realized she passed her cloak to the butler, until he looked down and caught her outrageous ensemble. Surprised, he blinked. For a moment there, he thought she was naked. The pale brown dress she wore closely resembled the color of her flesh, and it hugged her curvy hips like hose. Never in his loose imaginings would he consider brown to be seductive on a gown, but he guessed this fine woman would make any garment erection-inducing. He grinned from the crazy image of her wrapped in a sugar sack, then he thought of disposing it over his bedpost. Oh, yes. If ever he had the chance to help her remove that blasted garment, he’d probably be able to hang the dress and her cloak over his cock. He was harder than stone but he refused to confirm that theory, at least, not at the moment. All he knew for certain was that if he didn’t relieve himself soon, it may happen right there in his undergarments. Nash didn’t bother to concern himself with how high her price would be. She would be his for tonight. It was his home, private party, and alcohol, therefore the woman had to be his. Her sapphire eyes once again locked with his. What a coquettish, inquisitive gaze! An idea sprung to Nash’s mind. Maybe his chums invited her here for the pleasure of their host? Bloody hell, he hadn’t felt this randy for a woman in years. She seemed to watch him with more enthusiasm. If so, his friends deserved to drink his home dry. A hand slammed down on his back just as he took another sip. The crystal clinked on his teeth and the strong liquid forced a searing path all the way down. With watery eyes, he glared up to find Edward, his man of business. The old man’s shoulders were shaking from suppressed laughter. If it were anyone but his most trusted friend, his fist would have cracked the man’s jaw for startling him during such wicked thoughts. “I see you’re ready for dinner,” Edward commented with a wink. Then he looked across the room to the object of Nash’s perusal. “Cock tease, isn’t she? All the lads are taking a fancy to her. Just look at those fat tits crushed inside that paper-thin gown. They need to be freed and fondled, my friend. Come to think of it, I’m surprised your horny arse isn’t there fighting for her attention. Are you ill?” Edward stroked his ridiculously long snow-white mustache, his keen gaze burning into the woman, then back to Nash. The sparkle in his eyes made Nash slightly uneasy, no doubt he was coming up with a new challenge. “Of course not.” Nash avoided Edward’s annoying gaze. “The woman gives me pause is all. I’m hard-pressed to believe she’s a woman of the night. Look at her, I mean, take a long, close look at her. She could be a lady, and there has not been a lady in this home for many years.” Nash raked a hand through his thick dark hair. As usual, his thoughts suddenly turned to the wife he was shackled to ten years past. He often wondered how she spent her days overseas, and if his life would be different if she hadn’t left him. As a husband he had every right to force her to bow to his command but he couldn’t do it. He did not wish to wed her, nor look upon her. It was best she was gone the morning after they married, although it pained his pride she felt the need to run away. It was because of his damn father they had to marry to begin with and now she was in America with her mother. She could damn well stay there. All he wanted for the time being was to find a pleasing mistress and release his stifling stress into the haven of a hot, wet puss. God help him, he was falling into a lonely drunken hell. Nash stood up and moved to the window, trying very hard to ignore the lovely sound of the strange woman’s laughter on the other side of the room. He stared at the reflection of his pale face and dark hair. It blended well with the graying sky, a perfect combination of brooding. Women called him scandalous. A scoundrel. A handsome devil, and he loved the attention. He did not have enough fingers and toes to count the pairs of appreciative eyes following him while he conducted business in town. Yes, he played a role for the ladies. Seduced them to purring kittens, tied them up like thieves and spanked them. Every one of them screamed his name at one point. Polite society would shun him to know of what tricks he mastered in the privacy of a bedroom, or closet, or any corner for that matter. He sipped the gin thoughtfully, secretly wishing he was a different kind of man, at least, the right man with the right woman. Truthfully, madly, and deeply, he wanted a woman to call his own. A warm body to turn to in the night, someone he could trust, with eyes to gaze into and see her reciprocated love while he slipped himself inside her. He even wished just to brush his fingers through her soft hair, allowing the fine strands to cascade like a waterfall of silk against the calluses that scarred his work-roughened hands. Like a little piece of heaven in this reality within hell. Blasted wives! Lady Nash managed to ruin everything for him, even though it really wasn’t her fault. Somehow, someway, life took a wrong turn that he could not spin out of. Vividly, he pictured an afternoon ten years ago when he stood on Abbotsbury Hill by St. Catherine’s Chapel, after the vows were spoken. It had been a beautiful afternoon, but he was foolish to hope for a good marriage. The years following that fateful day were as dark as the English Channel, and the gold ring felt heavy on his finger, like iron around the neck. “Don’t tell me the vixen makes you nervous!” Edward spat, startling him. “By God, Nash, what has gotten into you? Has Lady Nash contacted you?” He placed a comforting hand on Nash’s shoulder. “I have heard from her, but what troubles me is my life and what it’s become. I have enough blunt to last a lifetime, and not enough...lust to fill it.” He almost said love, but Nash would never say that word aloud to anyone. A man admitting he wanted love in his life was like admitting he didn’t have a cock and balls. “Every few months the woman sends a letter describing the details of her life, as if I give a damn. But I’ll tell you something for certain; her frame of mind should be questioned. Maybe it is something in the water that makes one mad, like our twisted King. ’Twould be the only sensible explanation. She had the gall to call her birthplace pompous. How could she write to me of wanting to make love to a man, but that we’re all a cluster of whores? It’s baffling, really. I don’t understand women.” She was right, though. Men were whores, ’twas what made being a man so satisfying, he thought with a wicked grin. Then he realized what he just called himself and his grin faded to a scowl. Women and their blasted mind games. “We’ll never understand the female population. You might as well shut your mouth about it,” Edward stated, chuckling. Nash narrowed his gaze in response. “Remember when Silvia was angered with me for imbibing too much, and demanded I get on my knees and beg her forgiveness? I did that, and much, much more, if you know what I mean. Well, after I delivered her wish, she still made me sleep in the bloody library.” Nash resisted the urge to laugh. “At least you had a choice of what to read, not eight pages of mindless prattle about sexual ideas and feminine power.” They exchanged a look of pained understanding. Nash knew Edward was smitten over his Silvia, but then again, she was a beautiful and very smart woman. She could make a street full of men fall to their knees for one of her disarming smiles, and her laugh was sweet and joyous, her pretty brown eyes twinkled with mischief...not to mention those spectacular-looking ankles. How he wished to find himself a woman with such passion and confidence. Society could be unfair at times, especially to a young lady, so he could understand his own wife’s plight, but life amongst the ton was not his to rule. She was a well-bred lady and must act accordingly. Obviously her proper breeding did not matter across the pond. He tried to imagine his wife’s profile as he downed another healthy dose of liquor, forgetting about Silvia and frowning over Lady Nash. No face came into view. After those fateful words were spoken she did not have the courtesy to remove her veil for a kiss, and after a cold night without his bride, she ran away, sailed for the colonies. A lot changed since then, and now he wouldn’t be able to tell if she passed him by on the street. Ten years felt like a lifetime. Dull black hair, nondescript eyes, and an unattractive dusting of freckles on her cheeks. That much he could remember. She would be twenty-seven now, and probably her mother’s shadow. A woman like that did not interest him. |