We have a guest post today from Renee Rose on on her new French Revolution novella Humbled. Here’s the scoop:
Corinne is alternately infuriated and attracted to the handsome peasant who has no qualms about turning her over his knee and spanking her bare bottom when she steps out of line. When he ends up joining her on a ship to New Orleans, their futures become inextricably intertwined, but can a common-born blacksmith and the daughter of a lord find enough common ground to make a permanent match?
In a flash, he slid down the embankment, covering her mouth with his hand to muffle her scream as he yanked her back into the lee of the bank, the back of her dripping body crushed against his front.
The voices had quieted at her cry, as if the men were listening. She stood rigid now, her body trembling against his, the water on her skin dampening his clothes. She tried to turn her head, eyes bulging and frantic, like a filly about to rear. He swiveled her head so she could see it was him and darted his eyes to the bank to indicate the danger. She attempted a nod, and he loosened the hold on her mouth but did not release her.
The men were no more than 15 feet away now. She began to struggle to free herself and he turned her face toward his once more, giving her a severe look. She lifted her chin to point toward the ground about 5 feet away, where her clothing lay in a heap, visible to anyone who looked over.
Hell.
He gave a sharp shake of his head and yanked her even closer to his body. She seemed to accept his decision, melting against his form as if she wished to disappear. He softened his grip, listening to the voices as they grew louder, though he grew increasingly distracted by the sight of water droplets trailing over the swell of two perky breasts just beneath his eyes. Their breathing synchronized, the beat of his heart hammering into her back, meeting the thunder of hers.
Do not move. Do not touch her other than to keep her safe.
His fingertips did not obey. They began to make miniscule circles on her upper arm, the largest gesture he dared considering their position. He was acutely aware of the fact that she could not protest, nor resist. He could press his advantage if he wished. He did not intend to, though his cock strained in his trousers against her low back. Her skin was impossibly soft, and she smelled fresh after her dip in the stream. The temptation to lick her neck came out of nowhere, but the voices grew louder and he held his breath, stilling to listen.
