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Sinful Sirens Blog Stop

Welcome to the Sinful Sirens blog hop.

It's a beautiful spring morning in Utah. And I'm so glad you decided to stop by and spend a moment with me. I'd like to tell you about my new book An Improper Wife with my Sinful Siren Caroline


A proper young lady should never attend a Masque...Aphrodite is no lady.

Betrothal to the callous Lord Blackhall painted a future devoid of love. Upon his death, Lady Caroline Wilmont is promised to the younger brother. Caroline refuses to allow her first taste of desire to be at the hands of a man who would rather have any woman but her. This, her last night of freedom, is to be a memory of lust that she can take with her throughout her loveless marriage. As Aphrodite, Caroline attends a masque determined to find a man to initiate her into the intimacies of erotic love.

Taran Robertson, Viscount of Blackhall, makes no secret that he despises his obligation to marry the Sassenach heiress chosen for him by his father. As a last foray before his wedding, he attends a masque. However, the spirited vixen he meets and seduces has secrets...secrets that just may reveal he’s to have an improper wife.


Excerpt From: An Improper Wife

Newcastle, England, December 1798

Despite the crush of people that pressed into the intimate corner of the crowded ballroom, the din faded into the background when Lady Caroline Wilmont allowed the hooded blue domino to draw his cape close around them. She leant against the stone pillar and he rested a muscular arm above her head.

His costume wasn’t original-few at such masques were—but the piercing blue eyes staring back at her from behind the mask offered the hope she could forget the prison that awaited her tomorrow.

Guilt niggled. If her presence at the soiree was discovered...she commanded her nerves into submission. Responsibility be damned. She would leave before the assigned hour of two a.m. when the masks were to be removed. No one would know the future Viscountess of Blackhall had attended a masque. Tonight, she was simply one of the many masked women bent on seduction-and being seduced.

Caroline ducked her head, allowing the locks of her long blonde wig to fall to the sides of her face. A crescendo of violins rose from the orchestra. The beat of her heart matched the trilling vibrato. She turned her face just enough to be able to study her admirer through her lashes. His gaze boldly met hers, then dropped to the draped bodice of her Aphrodite costume. Warmth spread through her limbs and brought a flush to her cheeks.

The rich purple of the long sash around her neck contrasted with the stark white of the plunging décolletage designed to accentuate full breasts, bared to a hint of nipple pink. Her pulse skipped a beat. If she leant forward a hair’s breadth...

The crowd pressed closer, up the two steps that separated them from the dance floor. The masked gentleman’s leg brushed her thigh, revealed by the slit in the costume’s long skirt. She could scarcely believe her luck. A second move, and one so bold this early in the evening. The hour was just before midnight and the more prominent guests had yet to appear. If she had captured his imagination to the extent he would forsake other possibilities, this last night of freedom might cost less than the allotted two hours.

"Your beauty makes me forget my manners," the domino murmured.

She gave a low laugh. "I daresay your manners are impeccable-outside of this room."

His gaze locked onto her mouth. "Do you prefer impeccable manners?"

She drew her bottom lip between her teeth. His eyes darkened, and her heart skittered as he leant into her. Caroline slid around the pillar towards the wall, intending to draw him into a more intimate semblance of privacy. Her hip collided with rounded buttocks. She twisted to the right. A masked joker grinned at her over the head of the lady she had bumped into. He reached out with the hand that was wrapped around the woman’s waist and nipped at the skin just below Caroline’s breast.

She turned back around and got a mouthful of her domino’s hard chest. She snapped her head up, and blue eyes stared down at her in a blaze of desire. She froze as his mouth descended. Soft as velvet, his lips slid languidly over hers. He flicked his tongue against her lips and she breathed in the heavy aroma of cigars, and recognised the pungent taste of brandy. Her uncle smelt of brandy and cigars.

Uncle? She tensed, eyes locked on the domino’s shadowed features. His seductive kiss played on her lips. An unpleasant tremor fluttered in her stomach. Damn her uncle. She closed her eyes tight and focused on the warmth of the domino’s lips. A low groan rumbled from him. Strong, solid arms banded around her and pulled her closer. Caroline concentrated on the feel of her breasts flattened against the hard muscles of his chest. Why didn’t her heart pound, her breath catch, her body yearn for his touch?

Fear surfaced. No. She refused to believe what her betrothed, John, had said only two months before his death. Despite the fact he had come from yet another night of drinking, gaming, and carousing, the accusation that she was a passionless husk had cut deep. The cloying scent of perfume and tobacco that clung to him had reminded her that he felt no regret about going from one woman’s bed to another. But doubt lingered.

She forced back the memory. It wasn’t lack of desire that kept her from enjoying the domino, but the dread of discovery. Once they were alone, she would discover the ecstasy of his lust. Her heart beat faster with the memory of overhearing John speak of how a woman had driven him mad by sucking and licking his cock. She planned to drive this man wild and discover the part of her that ached for a man’s touch.

The domino deepened the kiss and Caroline envisioned him braced over her, hands on her bared breasts, his hard length rubbing against her pussy. Darker features and black hair unexpectedly replaced the fair-haired domino in her mind. A flicker of pleasure tightened her nipples and the desire streaked to the heated petals of her pussy.

Caroline clutched the domino’s shirt. His grip tightened as his tongue curled around hers, tasting, stroking. She slipped her hands between their bodies and pressed against his sternum. The firm, contoured muscles of his chest quivered beneath her fingertips. She liked this, would gladly take him, and yet, she had expected something more.

He drew back and trailed fingers over the thin material of her costume, grazing the edge of her breast. From the corner of her eye, Caroline caught sight of lush, blonde hair piled atop the head of a woman wearing a Marie Antoinette costume. She froze. Only one woman between Newcastle and London had such luscious hair that she needed no wig to play Marie Antoinette. Lady Margaret.

What was Margaret doing here? Earlier that afternoon, when her mama had asked her if she planned to attend the ball, she had claimed to have a headache. She’d told Caroline privately that she found the ton even more tiresome in Newcastle than she did in London. Caroline would never have dared attend the masque in London, where she was sure to be recognised. But her uncle had insisted at nearly the last minute that they oblige her future father-in-law and hold the wedding in the chapel on his estate. So here in Newcastle, she had little fear of getting caught at the party. Her heart sank. Now Margaret had destroyed her last chance for seduction. There was nothing left but to flee.

The blue domino leant forward and whispered in her ear, "Aphrodite."

His breath, warm and eager, brushed the tiny hairs on her skin. A shiver raced along her spine and made her scalp tingle. Yes. This she craved. Damn. Too late, all too late.

The domino withdrew enough to be able to look upon her face. "Perhaps we should find somewhere more private?"

If he had suggested that but five minutes ago! She would throttle Margaret. Caroline lifted a corner of her mouth in a half-smile. "Pray, sir, fetch me a punch. This room is a veritable sweatbox." She ran fingers over the swell of her breasts, wiping a trail in the sheen of perspiration beaded across her skin.

His gaze followed the action, eyes darkening before he returned his gaze to her face and gave a slight bow. "At your service."

Leave a comment and tell me anything, a sinful secret, a sinfully delicious dessert, or any other sinful thing that comes to mind. A random winner from the comments can choose any title from my backlist.

Here is where you can go next!

Bent for His Will - excerpt

Excerpt - Bent For His Will
Copyright - KyAnn Waters

To Purchase on Amazon - http://www.amazon.com/Bent-For-His-Will-ebook/dp/B007WGFPA0/ref=sr_1_11?ie=UTF8&qid=1336880604&sr=8-11


“I can’t believe it. My best friend thinks I want to fuck his girlfriend. This is a conversation I never thought I’d have with you. So what was it that bothered you more? My hands on her ass or her hands on mine?”

Logan was quiet. His ribs ached from the pounding of his heart. “I don’t know.”

“Think hard.”

Logan took a step closer.

Will retreated a step.

“Both.” After tonight Logan had to get this fucking weight off his chest. The pressure was suffocating. “I don’t want other men holding—groping—Renna.” She was his girlfriend and he couldn’t stand the thought of her with another man, not even his gay best friend.

“I never groped.” Will backed against the counter. Perspiration beaded at his temple. “And I’m not other men.”

“I know.” Logan drew in a ragged gasp. Renna wasn’t the only problem. His cock ached and his head swam with insecurity. Admitting he was possessive of his best friend wasn’t easy. Admitting that the feelings weren’t completely platonic was unsettling. “I don’t want anyone, male or female, touching you either.” Powerless to stop himself, his mouth was moving and the words spilled from his lips.

Will laughed but nothing was funny about the tide of want surging through Logan. His ears burned and his head pounded. Heat raced into his neck and his stomach roiled with uncertainty.

He tentatively settled his hand on Will’s belly. “What if I told you I think about touching you?” Logan stilled his trembling fingers, exerting just enough pressure against Will to show his intent.

Will didn’t move, didn’t flinch a muscle except the one behind the fly of his jeans. He was stoic and silent.
Oh fuck. Logan waited, fearing Will would pull away. When he didn’t, Logan tugged on the hem of Will’s shirt. “I do. But tonight I want to more than think. I need to touch you.”

“You’ve had too much to drink.” Will’s voice quavered.

“No. I haven’t had near enough to drown the image of you…” He released a shaky exhale. “You with me, out of my head.”

“Logan, don’t. I love you too much to let you say or do something you’d regret.” Will pushed Logan’s hands away. The touch sent a jolt of liquid heat scorching through him. He burned and he didn’t want Will stepping back.

Logan wanted Will closer. “How do you know I’d have regrets?”

“Because you aren’t gay.”

“How do you know?”

“Because you love pussy.”

He did, loved the wet heat of Renna’s cunt surrounding his cock. Her soft whimpers and sharp nails. This was different and no less arousing. “You’re right. I’m straight.” He glimpsed Will’s groin. Will’s cock strained against the front of his jeans. Logan swallowed. Blood roared through his ears. Fuck, maybe he wasn’t completely straight, but just a little bent.

He could live with that. Because he couldn’t live without taking the chance, risk his friendship to—to what? Experiment with Will? Touch him? Kiss him? Fuck him? His stomach rolled. Tonight he didn’t know what he wanted. He only knew if left to Will, they never would be anything but friends. Logan wasn’t sure that was enough.

“What are you worried about?” Logan whispered.

“Losing you.”

“Won’t happen.”

“You’re right. Because nothing is going to happen between us. You’ve been drinking. You had a fight with your girlfriend and I’m not going to be the cause of your break-up.”

Guilt wormed its way into Logan’s gut. Though his relationship with Will wasn’t some hook-up, it could still hurt Renna. Logan cared about her. He couldn’t cheat on her because he wouldn’t risk losing her.

But, like breathing, his responses for Will were uncontrolled, and Logan didn’t want to control them. He’d figure out what to do tomorrow. He’d talk to Renna, be honest with her. He’d have to be because he couldn’t lie to her and he couldn’t continue to lie to himself. But, tonight…tonight was about Will. “This isn’t about Renna. Just you and me.”

“Believe me, you’d have regrets. We both would.”

“Would you regret kissing me?” He leaned in and drank in the scent of Will’s cologne. “I know you want to.”

“No,” Will whispered. “Because I’m not going to kiss you.”

Logan’s heart felt as if it jumped into his throat then plummeted to his feet. He put his hand on Will’s waist. Electric current flowed through him, heating him, sending a high frequency vibration through every nerve. A rush of adrenaline weakened his knees, yet had him wanting more. “Then I’ll kiss you.” Oh fuck, he was going to kiss Will. His lips tingled and yet he shivered with fear of what it would mean to kiss him…what would happen if he kissed him…what would happen if he didn’t. That thought was more unsettling than the truth—that he was as attracted to Will as he was to Renna. Something different fluttered in his gut, something no less arousing than what he felt with Renna.

Logan did it. He slanted his lips over Will’s.

Will sucked in a quick breath. Then he stilled.

The kiss was just lips, soft and warm. Logan had never kissed a man, never wanted to until this moment. His head lightened and his cock hardened.

Will groaned, fisting his hands at his side. Logan rested his hands on Will’s hips and sliced the edge of his tongue along Will’s mouth. “Kiss me, Will.”

“No.”

When Will spoke, Logan slipped inside. Kissing Will was dangerous because he tasted so good. Raw, masculine, and forbidden.

A ravishing growl rolled from Will. He snaked his arms around Logan, grabbed his ass, and ground their cocks together. “Fuck.” Will became the aggressor. His mouth opened, plunging deep, swirling over Logan’s teeth. Tongues tangled and sparred. Hot, wet, intense.

Will shifted their positions and backed Logan against the refrigerator. “We shouldn’t do this,” he hissed into Logan’s mouth. “But fuck, I can’t take anymore.” He cupped Logan’s cock and gently squeezed. “You wanted to know. Now you do.” He stroked Logan through his trousers. “Yes. I want this, want you.” His lips feathered along Logan’s neck. His mouth was hot and thrilling. Sucking, tasting and kissing. Will glided his hands higher, delving between them and tugging on the snap to Logan’s trousers.

Holy shit. Will moved fast. Logan fought to keep up, chasing Will’s mouth. Lips crushed lips. The whir of Logan’s zipper sent a hot torrent of need into his cock. Quivers rippled over his abdominals. His stomach tightened and Will’s knuckles brushed against Logan’s flesh. Fire licked his loins. His balls throbbed and his dick was kicking to get out of his pants.

Logan was breathing hard, immersed in the moment, awaiting Will’s touch. “Ah. Fuck.”