3/15/12. Yes, there's sex in this book . . .
Julissa woke to find Gaspar tracing her nipples with his forefinger. His feather touch circled each taut areola, circumscribing its shape and teasing it awake. Still half-sleeping, she sighed and rolled onto her back, pleasure pooling in her belly as well and tempting her to open her legs. She reached for him and the feel of his thick muscles beneath her hands, his body shifting above hers, brought her fully awake.
“Sneak attack,” he murmured in her ear. His morning beard rasped the skin of her neck and she yelped. “I strike at dawn.”
Giggling, she twisted under him, seeking escape. His arms prevented her, and then his knees were between hers and she was quite hopelessly vulnerable. His cock pushed hard and hot against her sex, poised to enter. Gaspar was good at invasions.
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2/29/12. Making good progress and had a blast writing about Gaspar and Julissa's disastrous wedding. Her family causes no end of problems, of course, but Adora provides her share of excitement and Vallmer ends up taking some heat. Fun stuff.
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Snippet just for fun:
“How dare you question my hospitality in front of my guests?” Now that she and Hersilia were in her private suite of rooms and out of hearing, Adora felt free to fume. “I extended them welcome and you come in to suggest I have no more wit than a child!”
“A question that will occur to others, you can be sure, as soon as they learn you are entertaining a close friend of Sebboy’s.” Hersilia made her way to the broad opening leading to a fine loggia overlooking the hillside and, below it, a pretty expanse of harbor. “This room has a pleasant view.”
“Prince Vallmer has proven himself honorable. I need say no more than that.” It would be dangerous to say more. Gaspar had enemies who would love to learn who had truly financed the pirate raid that had liberated Lorant and resulted in the bloodshed at Iniga. Battus Kepe, among others, was clamoring for Uttor to push its border westward and would seize the slimmest of excuses to call for sending Arrento’s army into Benarri.
“He’s exceptionally good-looking. But then again, so was the other one. Volsung’s lusty tribe settled the lands of Sebboy and Benarri, and they’ve been breeding beautiful men ever since.”
“I didn’t invite him here for his looks.”
“Truly? I would have.” Hersilia slid a wicked glance her way. “I am also satisfied with his character. Did you see how he leaped to your defense at seeing you in distress? Had he a sword to draw, I think he would have looked quite magnificent.”
“Yes, about that. Bringing up . . . that name . . . was cruel. Reminding me, everyone—”
The old woman waved a hand, dismissing the thought. “Of what? That you have steel in your spine? A moment of pain well worth the result. I knew you could take it. You are made of stronger stuff than the rest of us. Chasca’s blood! It comes through, you know, when Uttor needs it.” She turned away from the view and faced Adora. The sun was sinking low, gilding the marble at her back. “You favor a certain type of man, it seems. So do I. I once had a big, golden man like that Benarri prince, and I daresay I would like another! I would marry him on the spot.”
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1/19/12. About halfway through the novel after being distracted by nasal surgery, the holidays, and a story for publication.
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Snippets of the story so far, one for each main POV character:
First, Vallmer.
His father scowled. "I'm not weak yet, son. I'm strong enough to hold this kingdom. But things happen, and your brothers are just boys. You aren't. You're a man and it's time you fulfill the greatest duty of a prince of Volsung's line: sire children of your own. For that, you need a woman. For heirs, you need a wife. And for a wife—"
"I know. I need a woman of royal birth who will bring as many advantages to the union as possible."
"Don't sound so dismissive. Dynasties don't preclude love. I didn't marry either of my queens for love and we found love enough in our unions."
True, his parents had seemed loving, and his stepmother of twelve years appeared to love his father. Vallmer walked to the window overlooking the city of Tevolg. Benarri was small but industrious and its capital was a burgeoning collection of workshops, guild houses and earnest, smoke-hung temples. The main reason he had not yet found a woman to wed was that he spent his time in foundries and forges instead of parlors and other places where females—or their noble sires—congregated.
"Love isn't something I require," he said with a frown. "If I wait for love, I might never marry. A state marriage is a calculated partnership in any event."
"You make it sound so joyless." His father's voice had turned wistful.
"I have yet to meet the woman who could make marriage otherwise."
Selbben rose and approached, clapping him on the shoulder. "And with that attitude, you never will. Will you be joining us for dinner or prayers?"
"Prayers for certain. I have business in town this evening."
"Very well. And deal with your melancholy while you're at it. Every woman's an adventure, son, remember that. One day you'll find one who will change your mind."
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And now Adora.
Adora bit back a whimper as her fingers worked at her wet and throbbing clit. She imagined the man above her and carefully nudged the vague image toward something solid—broad-shouldered, thick muscled, powerful thighs spreading her legs wide as he penetrated her. Was there anything as glorious as a hard, eager cock? Goddess! She wanted to feel that again, the way she remembered it now . . . a hard male body under her hands and between her knees . . . deep, plunging strokes pushing her over that edge. She gasped aloud when her tension crested, pleasure exploding between her legs and expanding in deep, melting waves through her body. Yes! Gods above, she wanted this!
Biting back a moan, she shuddered as orgasm claimed her heated flesh. Her hips lifted and bucked and she conceded with a bitter laugh that pregnancy had taken away none of her capacity to experience pleasure. None. She still yearned for a man's touch and smell, the feel of a cock inside her.
Her womb responded to her orgasm by tightening, rolling with a slow contraction beneath the taut skin of her belly and her free hand fled involuntarily to the round mass, cradling it.
No! Her mind recoiled as other memories pushed into her reverie. She banished the imagined man before he acquired a face but she could not quite block the hated hiss of Lorant's voice.
You're just another Uttoran cock slut, aren't you? Well, here it is, princess, all the cock you ever dreamed of. Are you enjoying it, Adora? Tell me. Tell me!
You'll obey me, bitch, when you have my baby inside you.
With every word, Lorant had thrust his body into hers. With every . . . hate-filled . . . word.
Two months ago she had watched him die, gasping his life out on a barren beach. Two months and he haunted her still.
