The Rose's Bloom

by Danielle Lisle

  A Total-E-Bound Publication

  www.total-e-bound.com

  The Rose’s Bloom

  ISBN # 978-1-78184-058-0

  ©Copyright Danielle Lisle 2012

  Cover Art by Posh Gosh ©Copyright July 2012

  Edited by Amy Parker

  Total-E-Bound Publishing

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher, Total-E-Bound Publishing.

  Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Total-E-Bound Publishing. Unauthorised or restricted acts in relation to this publication may result in civil proceedings and/or criminal prosecution.

  The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the artwork.

  Published in 2012 by Total-E-Bound Publishing, Think Tank, Ruston Way, Lincoln, LN6 7FL, United Kingdom.

  Warning:

  This book contains sexually explicit content which is only suitable for mature readers. This story has a heat rating of Total-e-burning and a sexometer of 2.

  This story contains 47 pages, additionally there is also a free excerpt at the end of the book containing 10 pages.

  Rogues of Deception

  THE ROSE’S BLOOM

  Danielle Lisle

  The allure of a woman pleasuring herself by a riverbank is too far a temptation for any man to witness, let alone this elusive lord, particularly when joining her would be so much sweeter.

  Likened by her family to a carriage horse, Lady Claire knows gentlemen only consider her a possible match due to the rich dowry her father dangles in their faces. She had accepted this, until a mysterious man introduces her to a world of passion and pleasure.

  Damon, a rich and most cantankerous lord, is not known for his sociable persona. While out hunting one day, he encounters a woman seeking fulfilment by the riverbank, her fingers getting her nowhere. He was a gentleman, after all, and it would be ill-mannered of him to allow her to go unaided. What red-blooded male wouldn’t assist a damsel in distress?

  Dedication

  For my dad, who never had the chance to read this.

  Special Thanks

  I would like to send my thanks to the two women who inspired me to write, Sharon Sala and Lacy Danes. Sharon introduced me to a world of wonder, suspense and intrigue with her unique writing style and it was her unknown inspiration that first urged me to put my ‘fingers to the keyboard’ with my own stories, no matter how different. Lacy, on the other hand, introduced me to the world of erotic and historical romance, opening up the door which has now seen me published. Without these two women, I doubt you would be reading this story today.

  Chapter One

  Northern Dorset Forest, England, 1803.

  A clear blue sky was a rarity at this time of year. England had the worst weather, apart from Scotland, perhaps, where it rained no matter what the season.

  Damon knew he shouldn’t complain, especially on a day as grand as this. The birds were singing, the wind whispered softly as it passed him, and the wildlife rustled in the underbrush. He was not after a small creature. No, he had his sights on a mighty stag. His man of business had mentioned seeing one in the area when he had recently journeyed from London. How prized would the animal look hanging on his wall? Of course, his study was already filled with the heads of other beasts, but Damon would make sure his staff found room for this creature’s massive antlers.

  Approaching the large, winding river where he hoped his prey would stop to drink, Damon was surprised to notice a white mare tethered to a fallen tree. The mare raised her head as he approached, though she paid him and his black stallion little mind, finding the greenery below more appealing. He noticed the horse wore a sidesaddle and Damon’s eyebrows drew down as he looked for another steed. The mare was a fine horse, her saddle also of noble quality, yet it was unlikely a lady of nobility would have ridden out alone. A lady would never be found unchaperoned. It could ruin her reputation.

  Scanning the tree line along the wide river, he became more puzzled as time progressed. Had the lady come to some harm? Where was she?

  A sudden ripple in the water caught his attention. A woman rose, gasping for breath, taking the air deep into her lungs before she laughed, flipping onto her back, floating around as she gazed up at the blue sky.

  It took Damon a moment to overcome his shock at the woman’s sudden appearance before he noticed she wore nothing but her slip. A very sheer slip. His eyes moved hungrily over the wet material, which clung to the vibrant curves underneath. The round softness of her breasts and the darker shadow at the apex of her sex intrigued him, as it would any hot-blooded male. His cock hardened as he sat upon his steed, conflicted between twin desires—to watch, or to make the girl aware of his presence? The former won out, and he encouraged his steed backwards, into the thickness of the forest along the river, concealing their presence. He was thankful for the soft splatter of water falling from the small waterfall upstream, masking his steed’s hoof falls.

  Unable to bear not viewing her for long, Damon dismounted and tethered his stallion to a branch before hurrying back towards the river, where he perched himself against a tree like a hunter stalking his prey.

  The girl, who he could now see clearly to be about eight and ten, perhaps, still floated carelessly on top of the water. She kicked her legs gracefully and ever so slightly, to keep herself from drifting downriver. Upon each movement, as a leg bent, the wet material of her slip clung to her sex, teasing him with glimpses of the hidden treasure.

  His cock pulsed in his breeches, reminding Damon it had been too long since he had bedded a woman. Shifting his stance to release the tension behind the fabric, Damon groaned. Instead of easing his discomfort, it seemed to have advanced it. How divine it would feel to sink into the warmth of a woman’s sheath at that moment, pounding into her heavenly softness with the sun’s heat at his back. He shifted his stance again. Blast it!

  His mind then travelled over the possibilities of who this woman could be. Several properties surrounded his own and shared access to the river. Her steed indicated she was a lady of quality—her identity could fall to a number of daughters of lords in the area.

  The soft and carefree humming of the woman focused his attention back to her tempting body as it floated on the water’s surface. This section of the river was calm, the stream flowing little, yet enough to turn her around, exposing her as a delectable feast for his eyes.

  His reverie was cut short as she rolled onto her stomach and leisurely swam towards the bank where her horse waited. Stepping out of the water, she climbed a large, flat boulder, which sat half submerged a few feet from where he stood.

  The fabric clung to her greedily, outlining a detailed view of her body for anyone to see. He was thankful it was a private viewing. Damon had never been a man who liked to share. Her dark hair hung over her shoulders, and as she moved forward wetness, which gripped at her skin and the fabric of her shift, glistened in the sunlight. His cock twitched yet again—the image of her walking out of the water, the sun illuminating her from behind, gave the appearance that she was wearing nothing at all. If he never saw the sun again, he would be forever thankful for it choosing to shine on this grand day. He barely resisted the urge to stroke himself as he watched her sensual movements.

  She was not a small woman, no
r was she a large one, merely voluptuous. Simply delicious. Would a woman who looked as sturdy as she be able to endure his fierce desire? Damon forced himself to hold in his groan of longing.

  She perched herself on the stone slab, looking around, scanning the trees, including the ones which concealed him. Feeling like a coward where he stood hidden, Damon still felt no urge to make his presence known. He was interested to see what the chit was up to. Her blush and excited expression led him to believe she was about to be less than proper. He was not disappointed.

  As she lifted the fabric of her slip to rest on her hips, Damon was graced with an unobstructed view of her cunt. Tight, dark curls shielded her rosy flesh from his eyes, but his mouth watered and his cock jumped in anticipation.

  She settled back, bringing her knees up, laying her head on the stone beneath. Damon crept out from his hiding spot, desperate to be closer, eager to hear any noise she made as he watched her curious fingers wander tentatively down to her box. His cock twitched in wonder.

  Giggling at herself for being foolish enough to listen to her friend’s gossip at Lady Helen’s high tea yesterday, Claire lay on the damp slab. Their host’s daughter and her dear friend, Lady Margaret, had boasted of how a woman need not want or require a husband in life, other than to provide his seed for an heir. A woman could gain pleasure of her own.

  Claire had thought Lady Margaret was speaking only of needlework or shopping, yet after a rather scandalous conversation in the garden as they’d walked arm in arm, Claire had been shocked to hear what her friend had confessed. It seemed she found pleasure in exploring her private woman’s area. Claire had wondered for a moment if her friend was jesting, but it had quickly become clear she was doing nothing of the sort. Quite animatedly, Lady Margaret had informed Claire that touching one’s private area could be a rather joyous undertaking.

  Feeling daft for even attempting something she was sure should fall to the man she would one day marry, Claire still felt the burning urge to research this new theory.

  Reaching down to an area she had never paid much attention to, other than during bathing, Claire began to explore. After casting a guilty look around, she felt confident in the knowledge she and Maise, her mare, were the only ones present to witness her folly.

  Her friend had instructed her to open her woman’s area and find her ‘pleasure button’. Claire tentatively did as instructed, moving her finger between the flesh into the warmth of her folds, feeling for a button. She found none. Frowning, she tried again, yet found nothing remotely resembling the pleasure her friend had promised.

  She sighed loudly. “Maise, I think Lady Margaret truly did jest. I am afraid I cannot find the button of pleasure she spoke of,” she told her horse as she removed her hand, feeling ashamed of her foolishness for believing her friend’s claim.

  “Perhaps I can help,” a deep voice said from behind her. At the same moment, a piece of cloth covered her eyes.

  She screamed and struggled to sit up, only to feel the weight of a strong hand holding her against the stone beneath.

  “Do not fear me, my Lady,” he whispered close to her ear.

  A shiver slid down her body. Oh, dear God! She had been witnessed in her folly! What would her father say if he found out?

  “P-please, sir, let me get up.”

  “Do you not wish to experience the pleasure your friend told you of? It does exist, my rose. Do not doubt it. I can show you.”

  Again, a shiver raced through her body, but not from the chill in the air or the stone beneath her, simply from the warmth this man’s words evoked.

  “I-it w-would not b-be proper,” she stammered.

  He chuckled close to the delicate skin of her neck as his hold on her lessened, his hands moving to secure the fabric behind her head, which simply covered her eyes. Why did he not want her to see?

  “My Lady, nothing about this is proper. I am simply a man offering my services to a beautiful woman,” he said as his hands slowly travelled down her damp hair, stroking the skin of her neck before they wandered down to the moist fabric concealing her breasts.

  Her breathing became laboured—instead of feeling frightened, she suddenly wanted what this man offered. She should fear him, yet she did not. Why was that? She did not know him. What kind of man approached an unaccompanied lady?

  A sudden gasp escaped her lips as he touched her tight nipples through the fabric of her shift. Was this the pleasure of which Lady Margaret had spoken? She gasped again when his touch became firmer, sending a fiery bolt of pleasure through her body in one quick pulse. Amazing!

  “I am a pure woman, sir,” she murmured. Even surrounded by the dark fog of pleasure he was creating, Claire felt the need to assure him she was no doxy.

  “I know that, my rose,” he whispered against her breast, as his lips covered the peak he had touched with his hands moments before.

  She gasped in shock as he pulled her flesh and the fabric deep into his mouth. He suckled her for a moment prior to releasing it, but not before gently nipping the flesh with his teeth. Strangely, it did not hurt; in fact, it was a surprising mixture of pleasure and longing for something more.

  “I plan to save that for my husband,” she managed to add through her deep, frantic breaths.

  She felt moisture form between her thighs. What was happening? Claire was conflicted in her desire now. He no longer held her down, yet she made no effort to rise or remove the fabric he had used to cover her eyes. Her mind wished for her to slap the man for his rakish behaviour, while her body pleaded for him to continue his scandalous exploration of her body.

  “That is admirable, my rose, and I will not take it from the lucky man. Our dalliance today will still leave you pure.”

  She scowled at his husky words as he slid his hands down her body. “How is that possible, sir?”

  “I will give you pleasure without taking my own. Indeed, my pleasure will be from watching your excitement,” he whispered as he moved further down her body to her exposed womanhood.

  She gasped, having forgotten she was bare to his view, but he gave her no time to cover herself as she attempted, in vain, to rise. When he settled between her thighs, the man’s weight suddenly rested against her legs. Fear raked her body before a wet and rough sensation she could not name caressed her secret flesh.

  Gasping in alarm as he guided his hands to the area she had been previously exploring, Claire was shocked to discover he was invoking very different sensations than she had done herself, moments ago.

  The musky smell of the woman whose legs he had settled between, her gasps, moans and shudders of pleasure—all were testing Damon’s promise to leave her innocence intact.

  Sliding his tongue along her slit, from her anus to the entry of her cunt, he allowed it to delve inside her, unsurprised at the tightness surrounding him as he worked it in and out, tasting her honey. She was aroused and becoming more so, her sweet nectar heating and dampening the passage he most wanted to explore. But, alas, he was a man of his word. She would hold onto her virginity, for today, at least.

  She cried out, gasping for air as he moved farther up her slit, flicking his tongue against the area he had known she was in search of as he had observed her from a distance. How delightful it had been to watch her seek fulfilment, but he could hardly have been cruel and let her needs go unfulfilled, could he? Her comments to her horse had only encouraged him more. So, it seemed his fair maiden had some improper friends—not that he minded. He would not be settled there, between her lush thighs, were it not for her curious nature.

  “Oh, sir! I do not want you to stop. Are you sure I will still be pure?” she gasped as he used the flat of his tongue to tease her button of delight.

  Murmuring an affirmative, Damon had no desire to leave the sweetness of this woman, nor any desire to postpone her torture. She was a vixen, unknowingly or not. The mews of pleasure, her gasps of shock followed by her uncontrollable thrashing, made him acutely aroused. His cock strained against the
confinement of his breeches. She threaded her hands in his hair, urging him closer to her, and he almost bade farewell to her innocence, wanting to submit to his cock’s plea and release it, plunging into her snug warmth. But he could not do that to her. He would not. He would gain his pleasure, and suspected torment, only from experiencing her release second-hand.

  Moving his fingers from where they had been wandering over her body, Damon spread one hand over her belly before seeking the softness of her breast. She moaned in approval when he twisted the nipple between his thumb and forefinger, feeling her tiny shudders under his tongue. He wanted more—he needed more.

  Positioning his other hand at her entrance, he pleaded with himself to remain gentle. She was a maiden and he would not breach her maidenhead, but he would be the first man to enter her. He promised himself that.

  Biting down gently on her nub as he slid a single finger inside her, she gasped, no doubt shocked at the feeling. He moved his digit while he teased her clitoris with a determined tongue. How sweet her honey tasted.

  Her body bucked beneath him as he simultaneously caressed her from within and along the swollen lips of her core. He felt her body shake before she screamed, sending the birds scattering from the trees above. He slid another finger inside her, stretching her more, yet his need to fill her mixed with his need to be gentle.

  The first tremor assaulted his fingers with an overwhelming clench, which he suspected could cut off his blood flow, but what followed only made him work harder to make it last longer. She was a vixen indeed! Her body arched and her fingers clenched his scalp as she screamed louder, without restraint.