Saffina's Season
Saffina’s Season
ISBN # 978-1-78651-013-6
©Copyright Flora Dain 2016
Cover Art by Posh Gosh ©Copyright March 2016
Edited by
Jamie D. Rose
Totally 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, Totally Bound Publishing.
Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Totally Bound Publishing. Unauthorized 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 2016 by Totally Bound Publishing,
Newland House, The Point, Weaver Road, Lincoln, LN6 3QN
Totally Bound Publishing is a subsidiary of Totally Entwined Group Limited.
Warning:
This book contains sexually explicit content which is only suitable for mature readers. This story has a
heat rating
of
Totally Sizzling
and a
Sexometer
of
2.
Suiting Saffina
SAFFINA’S SEASON
Flora Dain
Book three in the Suiting Saffina series
When he treats her to her first London Season, she looks set to shine. But the more she sparkles, the more he despairs.
Now happily married with a baby son, Jacquard treats Saffina to her first London Season. He’s keen to show off his new countess, and she means to enjoy it to the fullest. She flirts outrageously, sees off catty remarks from jealous rivals with smart retorts and generally has a terrific time.
But when she’s waylaid by footpads one night in the backstreets of Chelsea, she’s unexpectedly rescued by a struggling artist. Inspired, she commissions a raunchy portrait for Jacquard’s birthday. As she struggles to keep it a secret, Jacquard grows moody. Soon he suspects an affair and thrillingly, steps up her discipline by giving her a taste of leather.
But at the Carlton House ball, when the prince reveals his new mistress, both she and Jacquard get a shock. He storms out, enraged.
Has she gone too far? Will she lose her husband, her good name and her son?
Chapter One
“You do this on purpose, I swear. Why do you torment me so?” His dark eyes glittered in the cushioned privacy of his carriage. His mouth twisted, sulky as a schoolboy’s.
“You torment
me
all the time.” I pouted. “Now you know how it feels. Just one day more, then I’ll be fresh for you.”
“You’re always fresh for me. You’re irresistible at these times. Your power is at its height. Even the ancients knew that. Please, Saffina, just once.” He growled in my ear, nipping my earlobe. “
Please.
”
I writhed as he slipped his hand up into my skirts, his touch light as a feather on my inner leg, his fingertips trailing tiny shivers over my soft skin.
“Tomorrow,” I giggled. “I’ll make it up to you. I promise.”
He slumped back in the corner with a groan. “
Now.
And make it quick. We’re almost there.”
With a wry grin, he freed himself and sprawled back, pushing gently on my shoulders to get me in position. With a coy glance, I slipped down between his thighs then leaned up to kiss his hot, glossy cock.
“Like this, sir?” I folded my hand around it, fondling its silky stiffness for a moment, then dipped my head to taste, licking the crown with the tip of my tongue.
I glanced up to check his response. Thrilling to the heat in his look, I grew bold.
“Or like
this
?” I surged forward, driving my eager mouth along the hot manhood, arousal pooling between my legs as it filled my mouth and nudged mercilessly at the back of my throat.
Jacquard Forsley, the great Earl of Endale, stunning, distinguished and rich beyond reason, was now my husband. As his new countess, I belonged to him, body and soul, both in law and in my heart. Pleasing him was all my joy.
I had few powers over him, but this was one. I vowed to make it last.
Like all women, I cursed my time of the month. However gently I denied him, refusing him full access drove him wild. But teasing him with my mouth like this was a constant delight and drove him even wilder, it seemed, especially when I timed my caresses to match our arrival at some ball or other, when—surprise, surprise—we had to break off just before he came. It meant an evening of anguish for him and plenty of fun for me—and high risk of a severe and truly satisfying spanking when we finally met up again.
In truth, my worst had passed. Only traces remained. But for the fun of it, I’d deny him a few more hours.
Now, just to tease, I pulled away at his peak. “So shall I pick you up after the club, my lord?” My mouth was all moist softness, my look all innocence.
His flash of irritation betrayed his need. “I can walk, damn it. Finish me, for pity’s sake.”
He was en route to his club, I to an exclusive soirée. We rarely split up for the evening, but tonight we had to. Jacquard had promised to show me a Season. Our arrival had caused quite a stir.
I was a great curiosity, partly because my dashing husband had evaded marriage so long, partly because so many mamas longed for a glimpse of me, the hoyden who had finally snapped him up from under the very noses of their daughters. Jacquard was one of the richest men in Europe.
They could carp all they liked. I meant to have fun.
Now I leaned back on my heels, mock stern. “You can do many things, my lord. But walking alone in the capital at two in the morning? Far too risky.” I gave him a lofty smile. “Some poor footpad will accost you, and you’ll run him through. Then I’ll lose you to the gallows. Let me collect you in the carriage. Then we can arrive together.”
His eyes gleamed. “
Arrive
together? Surely you mean
come
together, ma’am? And did I not warn you that I require payment for lending you my carriage in the first place? You have your own phaeton. You could have
come
in that.”
I leaned up to kiss his cheek. “You know I’d far sooner come in private, sir.”
With a grin, he hoisted me onto his lap and edged my flounces up my thigh.
I drew in a sharp breath as he began to explore, quickly searching out my pleasure spots with his fingers, his persistent touch so exciting that it made me writhe.
“Are you going to lower the blinds, at least?” I sounded husky over the clatter of the carriage wheels. At this hour, the streets were busy. Any minute someone might look in and see me clasped in my husband’s arms, with his hand buried in my skirts.
“Hush, my sweet. Your lace hides all. You think I want people to see me make love to my wife? Spread your legs.”
Almost at once the carriage juddered to a halt. Outside, his coachman was about to open the door.
Jacquard ran his hand down my cheek, his eyes dark with lust.
“Later, my own,” he murmured. “You’ll fetch me when?”
“Around two, sir? To finish our
tête-à-tête
?”
I saw his fine mouth twitch at the corner.
“See that you’re on time. I ache for you already, my sweet.
Au revoir.
” He kissed me lightly on the forehead then paused, his hand resting on the door.
Surprised, I glanced up with a fond smile. His thirst for pleasure, like his range of torments, seemed boundless. My least mistake earned far more than simple reproofs. It could ensure several nights of exquisite, pleasurable torture and leave me shaky for days at a time.
I hoped I tormented him too, just a little. He played me like an instrument. My sole revenge was to toy with his affections, easily done here in the capital. The London Season offered so many distractions, what with routs, balls, receptions and parties. And, amazingly…admirers.
It seemed marriage and a title were no bar to ardent followers. To my surprise, being new to smart society, flirting seemed quite the thing here—expected, even. And
not
much to my surprise, since I knew him so well, my flirting drove Jacquard to fury, even while he laughed it off in company and urged me on. It was entirely possible he found it flattering, but I took care not to ask.
Afterward, I would return home with pleasurable dread. How would he take it? With a laugh or a scowl? A kiss or a whipping? And if he laughed, how long before he whipped me anyway? And after that, what other trials lay in wait?
He could tease me for days, if he felt like it. And I vowed to endure it even longer. The need for secrecy, by contrast, was as vital as ever. Intense passion—and our particular path to it—could easily cause offense. We took care to arrive at a ball in the same carriage, leave with a wave and a fond glance—but the hours in between were to be filled with other people, other dancing partners, light flirtations.
No wonder he found my present indisposition a strain.
As the coachman reached for the door, Jacquard spoke to him through the window. “Her Ladyship needs a moment.” With a cruel smile, he turned back, shielding me from view. Once more he freed himself.
I swallowed. “The blinds, sir?”
He eyed me sternly. “We’re already in shadow, ma’am. If I draw them now, we’ll also draw attention. Finish me. And take your time.”
With hot arousal rippling through my belly, I slipped once more to the floor and leaned between his thighs to see his swelling cock before me, shiny and hot. I fell on it with a will, taking it as deeply as I dared, then setting up a lusty rhythm.
Now fear and lust spurred me on. This was risky indeed.
Suppose someone should see?
At this hour the streets were crowded. Standing carriages lured the curious. Any minute some passerby might peer in and see us…
“Slower, my sweet. Your mouth is all heaven.”
His low groan pierced my heart, while dread of discovery laced my excitement with raw fear. I felt a throb down below, where I’d been neglected for days while my cycle ran its course.
I should be fresh and eager again by the morrow. But oh, how I missed him there. Despite the exotic and delightful uses he made of my other places, that one was ever my favorite.
“Slower. Make it last. You should work your tongue harder.”
His soft growl made me throb again, as I realized his hungry gaze drank in every move of my straining mouth and my tight, stretched lips. I tried to slow down, mindful of his command, but with him at his full size, I found it difficult.