Sunday, May 23, 2010

Excerpt: Samurai Captive by Barbara Sheridan

Before we get to our Sunday goodness, lookie what I made.  My very first blog button for my very first contest ever.  Like it?  I do.  So many firsts, geeze.  Spins a girl up.

Okay, how about one last excerpt from the totally awesome Ms. Barbara Sheridan to wrap up our Author Blog Love week?  I've been trying to post this little goodie since I did the interview earlier this month, darn it. *blushes* I lost it for a minute.

Got it back together just in time for a little reading on a nice Sunday morning.  Kick back, have a little morsel with your moring coffee, something besides the news, and settle in for the day. 

Ahhhh.  Perhaps a read a book.  That just sound nice to me.  I think I might read this book.  Sounds good, and with m/m, f/f, m/m/f, m/f/f ~ sounds hot too.   

Nice.  Yep. This one.

Enjoy your Sunday!


Cover art by Anne Cain

The Blurb:  On display in the front window of a Japanese brothel, indentured British maid Hannah Connolly captures the eye of samurai Sanada Katsuhiro. Drawn to the lush, sultry curves of her body and the sensual performance she puts on for her audience, Katsu buys Hannah and takes her home, much to the annoyance of his best friend and sometime lover Masato.

Hannah doesn't need to be bound with silk ropes to keep her from escaping (though she's not about to complain when she is). She's intrigued by the handsome warrior and more intrigued by the thought of watching him and his samurai friend do to each other what she's only imagined.

Katsu plans to return Hannah to the foreign settlement at Yokohama and have her spy on an opium smuggler. But can he truly let go of the captive who has touched his heart?

Publisher's Note: This book contains explicit sexual content, graphic language, and situations that some readers may find objectionable: Anal play/intercourse, bondage (mild), dubious consent, exhibitionism, homoerotic sex f/f, homoerotic sex m/m, masturbation, ménage (m/f/f and m/m/f), violence (strong), voyeurism.

The Excerpt

Hannah struggled. “Hey, now. Stop that.”

The samurai held both her wrists in one hand and looped the rope over them. Hannah was struck by the feel of the rope.

It was made of silk and wasn’t anything at all like that coarse hemp that had scraped her skin raw when she’d been taken to the whorehouse by the couple who’d “rescued” her after the Richardson group was killed.

Still, she tried to pull away, tried to kick her captor, only to find her own legs swept out from under her in a deft move that left her flat on her ass, and him kneeling over her.

“Come on, let me up. I won’t try to escape. You can’t leave me like this. The bloody bow on this sash is digging the hell out of me back.”

“No, you won’t escape,” he said quietly, pulling the daggerlike tanto from the waistband of his hakama.

Hannah sucked in her breath. “I’ll help you an’ your friend.” She struggled to remember the name the servant women had called him. “I’ll teach you right proper English, I swear, Sanada-san.”

Still holding her bound wrists in one hand, the samurai used the dagger to slit open the front of the obi securing her yukata. Once it was slit, he jerked it out from under her.

“Better?” he asked sarcastically.

“Yeah, I guess so,” Hannah mumbled as he pulled her to a sitting position. The front of her yukata gaped open, and she watched his dark penetrating gaze fall on the swell of her tits between the gap of the fabric. He stood and pulled her with him, the thin garment falling all the way open.

He brushed his hand over the hair between her legs and made a guttural sound that sent a chill down Hannah’s spine.
“The color of fire,” he murmured as he looped the silken rope around her waist. He’d left enough slack so she could partially lift her arms, and he took the remaining ends and secured them behind her then brought the rope up between her legs.

Hannah wasn’t sure how the bastard had done it so quickly, but he made an intricate knot before bringing the rope up again to loop under the piece at her waist. Hannah gasped when he jerked her hands up and the knot pressed against her clit in just the way to send a tingle through her.

He wound the rope ends around each thigh, weaving it so that it stayed in place without slipping. He added the last bit of rope at the top of her thighs to that fucking knot between her legs.

“Walk,” the samurai commanded.

Hannah could move her legs freely enough, but the way he’d tied the rope was a sweet torture that left no doubt that she wouldn’t be able to make it very far before someone caught up to her.

Each step tugged the silken rope, rubbed it back and forth against her skin so that it swiftly worked its way between the swelling lips of her pussy. The fucking knot nestled itself close enough to her clit that each and every movement rubbed against her, making her weak in the knees and wetter by the second.

“Come back,” he ordered softly.

Hannah paused once she turned, her heart pounding, her blood racing as much from the sensual experience as from the samurai’s lustful stare.

“Come here,” he said with a more commanding tone.

Hannah moved slower than before, but that made things so much worse yet so exquisitely thrilling that she had to close her eyes and try to keep the feelings from overwhelming her. The rubbing of the rope felt like his hand had back at the brothel, and she longed to feel his fingers, his cock, anything filling her to accompany the sweet pressure building within from the rubbing of the knotted rope.

“Look at me.”

Hannah gasped. The samurai -- Sanada-san, she reminded herself -- had approached and was directly in front of her. He grabbed her shoulder and slid those strong calloused fingers around and up the back of her neck to tangle in her unbound hair.

He jerked her forward for a kiss, a hard kiss, his mouth fairly crushing hers, and yet she felt no sense of violation because she felt too damned aroused by the restraints he placed on her. Surprisingly, the forcefulness of the kiss eased into a definite seduction that made a moan vibrate deep in Hannah’s throat as Sanada-san’s tongue stroked hers, claimed hers in ways she’d never imagined.

The hilt of his tanto prodded her bare belly, but the discomfort was forgotten the moment he moved his free hand down and slid his fingers past the rope to invade her burning cunny.

Sanada-san broke the kiss and pulled back enough to stare down at her while he slowly and perfectly fucked her with his fingers. He kissed her neck, nipped at the sensitive flesh, then slid his hot tongue along the curve of her ear. “You are wetter, tighter than any whore I’ve had.”

Hannah jerked her head back. “I’m no whore. I’m not.”

Sanada-san tugged her hair till her scalp hurt. “You are my whore.”

Hannah’s protest was cut off by another kiss, and her anger at him was soon dulled by the steady fucking of his fingers.
Oh, God! Her pussy was on fire with the rubbing of the silk knot and the thrusting of his hand. She pressed closer, moved her hips, trying for deeper penetration. She was breathing hard, almost surprised by the echo of her own moans in the quiet room. She was so close…

The samurai pulled away. He wiped his wet fingers on the shoulder of her open yukata and stepped back. He stared at her with a fucking self-satisfied smirk on his face, then strode across the room and exited with a sharp bang of the shoji behind him.

“You bastard,” Hannah muttered.

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