When you dip your finger in the fire – you get burned!When Darius and his friend Jamie find Gemma, a young scullery maid, peeking through a shaded window at a ménage scene with one of their guests, they have just the right punishment for her.Gemma finds she is unable to tear her eyes from the scandalous scene in front of her. Why didn’t she run from this act of depravity? And why did watching it make her body feel heat in places she’d never felt heat before?Before the hot summer evening is over Gemma finds ...
When you dip your finger in the fire – you get burned!When Darius and his friend Jamie find Gemma, a young scullery maid, peeking through a shaded window at a ménage scene with one of their guests, they have just the right punishment for her.Gemma finds she is unable to tear her eyes from the scandalous scene in front of her. Why didn’t she run from this act of depravity? And why did watching it make her body feel heat in places she’d never felt heat before?Before the hot summer evening is over Gemma finds herself at the mercy of not one, but two very handsome young men who not only want to teach her a lesson, but as she soon finds out – she is the lesson, and this time she is the one with an audience. Reader Advisory: This book contains hot scenes featuring voyeurism and m/f/m sex that some readers may find illuminating.
Living in a fantasy world as a child, Maggie was fascinated with telling stories. Whenever she shared her adventures of imaginary friends and saving the world from the bad guys, her mother called it “Romancing”. Actually it was more likely a really good ploy to get out of doing chores! Little wonder that after a life spent in many different occupations, Maggie has settled in to writing romance fiction. Her stories range from dark erotic thrillers, to fantasy tales of bondage and submission, to romantic suspense and paranormal.
London, 1895 Gemma Hudson felt heat rise from inside her body and spread over her skin. The sight in front of her was so shocking and so unexpected, most definitely something she had never witnessed in all her twenty-one years. When she had stumbled on the hidden doorway into this passage, nothing could have prepared her for what she’d see. The woman lying naked on the bed sighed as she writhed, her white skin a deep contrast against the black silken sheets. Gemma gasped and drew away from the glass that separated her from the scandalous scene. She closed her eyes and crossed herself in the hope that praying to the good Lord and Saint Jerome would save her soul for having witnessed this forbidden sight. Run! Her mind knew what she should do, but her feet stayed planted in place, refusing to cooperate. She had suspected something was different about the entertainment offered to the guests at Maitland House, but she’d never imagined it would be so wicked. In the few weeks since she and her friend Lucy had been employed here, she’d noticed hints of secret goings- on behind closed doors, but she had not thought much of it. All who lived here had always shown kindness towards her and none had made any improper demands, not even the exceedingly handsome duo she saw before her. Not once had Master Darius or Master Jamie ever so much as hinted at any impropriety towards her. Now she knew why. They were finding their pleasure elsewhere. The men in question moved around in the room before her. Fearful lest they’d see her through the darkened glass, she shrank back against the wall in the hidden hallway. She watched, mesmerised, as each of them stood on opposite sides of the narrow cot and lifted the woman’s arms behind her head, fastening them with a length of cloth. The woman writhed on the bed as Darius smoothed her auburn curls from her face and placed a mask over her eyes, but the sound coming from her mouth was not fearful. More a contented sigh of pleasure, thought Gemma as she fidgeted. She fanned her face as unfamiliar sensations stirred her body and she realised there was a dampness between her thighs she could not explain. As a lady’s maid to her best friend Lucy in her former employment, she had lived a very sheltered existence. Her mistress was as innocent as she in the ways of the flesh, and as she had been sent away from her home to work as soon as she was old enough, she had not been blessed with a mother to explain things to her. Lucy’s mother had died in childbirth and that witch of a stepmother was barely older than the two of them. Until this very moment she had not had occasion to want or need an explanation of the more intimate details between a woman and a man…or in this case, two men. She had a feeling, however, that what she witnessed in front of her was not something a mother taught her daughter. Not unless she was a harlot. And Gemma’s mother most definitely had not been a harlot, despite her poverty. Her mouth opened in a gasp. She watched, unable to tear her eyes away as the young men knelt either side of the bed and each claimed a plump breast with his mouth. She bit her lip to stop any sound passing as she felt another intense tingle between her legs. Oh, my Lord. Closing her eyes, she tried desperately to shut out the sinful scene, but failed, instead seeing herself on that bed, naked and restrained, with both men suckling her breasts. Her hands slid over the tight layers of her gown, and she pinched her nipples through the thick fabric. She tweaked them gently at first, imagining Darius’ and Jamie’s mouths touching her, then harder as her body reacted to the intense pain and pleasure that ensued. How could it be that she was here watching this act unfold, touching herself in this way, or that those soft cries of pleasure she heard were this time coming from her lips? It was not what a proper young woman ought to do. Though she was only a scullery maid, she had been a lady’s maid and should know better. But instead of guilt for such perverted behaviour, she felt an incredible pleasure far beyond what she had ever imagined. I am wicked. “Yes, yes. You are a good student, my dear,” said a male voice, startling her. She opened her eyes in shock. She breathed out, relieved to realise that the voice referred to the woman on the bed and not herself. She looked down at her hands, still over her nipples. Oh, God. Dropping her hands, she thanked all that was holy that the men had not heard her soft cries. “Our guest deserves a reward for her studious behaviour. What do you think, Jamie?” said Darius. “Oh yes. I believe you are quite correct, my friend. I have just the thing,” he said, smiling. “By all means. I believe it is your turn to finish off. I cannot wait to see what your wicked brain has in mind.” Darius chuckled as he went to the side of the room. Jamie smiled and sauntered to the end of the cot. He smoothed his large hands along the creamy skin of the woman’s legs, then one by one bent them back, her knees brushing her breasts. He slid his hands under her bare buttocks and tugged her body to the edge of the mattress. Her arms strained against the ties as her body slid downward and her head turned to the side, a hint of a smile on her face. Gemma inched forward, her face so close to the glass it began to mist over while she angled her head to see what Jamie was doing. Her breathing quickened when he knelt down and placed his mouth on the woman’s exposed sex. She trembled, moving her hand over the skirt of her gown, inching it upward before she slipped a shaking hand inside her drawers. What would it feel like to have a man touch her so? “More. I want more, Jamie,” the woman cried.