Christmas is a time for dreams and miracles—or is it kink? Dreams and reality merge for Angie this season, and life may change forever.
When Angie falls in a struggle over her beloved Christmas tree angel, she wakes up in 1818.
The Earl of Camberley’s relief at finding his beloved wife finally awake is only surpassed by his anger at the ruffian who dared to attack her on his doorstep. His lady seems rather confused and he can only hope that she remembers who he is and what they share in private.
Theirs is not a conventional marriage. As they work to piece together the mystery surrounding her angel, passion flares and Angie realizes that she loves this Regency Dom as much her Dom back home. Where is home however, and where will she end up?
Be Warned: BDSM, flogging, knife play
“If you try to make yourself climax, I’ll tie you,” Cam warned her.
Did he really think that was a deterrent? Angie sighed, and he chuckled as he continued his exploration of the contours of her leg.
“Good things come to those who wait.”
“And waiting is not a good thing when you want to come,” Angie said. “Ah, for fuck’s sake, please.” His hand had reached her damp thighs, and she shivered in a good way. Did he realize what he was doing to her? Of course he did. She’d guess this Cam was aware of everything he did, in the same way as the other one was.
“Begging?”
“You bet. Begging, pleading, ah yes, so fucking good.” She writhed on the cover as yet again he used his fingers to bring her to the edge of a climax and then stopped. It was enough to bring tears to her eyes.
“I love to watch you like this,” Cam said and blew on her clit. “Do not come, not yet.” He nipped her thigh and laughed softly as she opened her eyes and stared at him in annoyance. “Oh so wet, oh so aroused and yes, oh so cross with me. Now where were we?”
“You talk too much. I want to come. I bet you do as well.” Angie reached down toward his cock.
Cam moved so fast she had no time to react. Wherever he’d hidden the ties, she had no idea, but before she could say “Regency romance,” or “cock ahoy,” he’d spread her arms and legs wide and fastened them.
She huffed as the bed dipped. Now what?
Here she was, unable to move, her nightie—no night rail—bunched up around her waist, her pussy on show and her boobs covered, horny as hell, and he was sauntering away from her as if she held no interest to him whatsoever.
Bastard. Angie watched as he moved toward a tallboy and opened the top drawer. She couldn’t see what he took out until he turned back and faced her.
Her heart did a weird flip-flop. The dagger he held glinted in the light of the candles on the mantle, and the flames in the fire helped to create strange phallic patterns on the wall behind him. Angie gulped and Cam chuckled.
“And what shall I do with this?” He held the dagger by the handle and slowly lowered it toward her. “Do you trust me, Angelina?”
The tip touched her clit. She froze as the cold steel warmed.
“Do you?”
****
Did she? Cam held his breath as he let his dagger just touch her skin. He knew he would never harm her, and so did she. Or, he amended, she had. Who knew what ideas she had now? His talk with the doctor had resulted in the decision to do as he thought fit. Doctor Taylor had on reflection decided that the adage “nothing ventured, nothing gained” could well be what was needed in this present scenario. Though he doubted the good doctor had knife play in mind when he said it.
“Tell me now, lady-mine, or I stop. Stop everything, and we both know that even if you make yourself cry in pleasure, it never measures up to what we achieve together. So, what is it to be?” He lifted the tip, happy to see the way she gasped and her pupils widened. That was a sign of her disappointment, although she didn’t voice her dismay. Cam lowered the dagger again and ran the flat edge across her tight little nub, and into her wetness. He was careful not to break the skin, just to tease and torture a little. By the way her pulse jumped and her breathing became ever more erratic, it seemed he succeeded.
Up until that point, Cam had never understood what the poets meant by “time stood still,” or even “the air waited to hear the response,” but now he did. Never the most patient of men, he held his tongue and made sure to look her straight in the eyes. They were cloudy with what he hoped was desire.
She tested the restraints on her arms, but kept the lower half of her body still. Cam chuckled. She might not remember their play, but her subconscious seemed to.
He mentally counted twenty seconds in his head and lifted his dagger. Without looking away from her, he lifted the glistening tip to his mouth and licked the feminine juices from it.
“So, it seems we stop.” He put the dagger down on the cabinet top, and shrugged. “Ah well.”
“Bastard, noooo.” Angie tugged at all four restraints. “Shit, Cam, I need to come.”
He shook his head. “You need to have your mouth washed out. That language is not becoming for a lady.” He stood up and walked into the bathing chamber.
“What?” she shouted after him. “You wouldn’t fucking dare.”
Cam grinned to himself, and made a point of noisily swirling the water he poured from the ewer into a goblet. “You know better than that, lady-mine.” He picked up the goblet and walked back into the bedchamber. “Drink this.” He held the glass to her lips.
Angie shut her mouth and shook her head.
Cam pinched her nose hard, and she opened her mouth. He poured the contents of the goblet into it. “Swallow that.” He held her mouth closed and massaged her throat.
She spluttered and swallowed and he released her. “Never, ever dare me. Next time it will be soap.”
Tears streamed down her face. “Sadist.”
He nodded. “If the need arises. Now make yourself come.”
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