The Velvet Chair
(Velvet Lies #1)
Publication date: February 6th 2017
Genres: Erotica, Romance
“Oh, darling. You’re going to be so easy to conquer.” His finger reached under my chin and pulled my face back to meet his. “I can’t wait to strip you out of that dress and watch you crawl around my home naked. I’m going to spank that delectable ass with every damn pervertible I can find. Hairbrushes, wooden spoons, spatulas, and I might even try a damn baking sheet. That ass of yours is always going to be prettily pink and perfectly swollen while you’re under my roof.”
My name is Mark Matthews. I own half of London, and the part I don’t own, I’m working on.
Life was all going swimmingly well until Michael Redcliff entered my life, demanding that I marry his daughter. Actually, swap demand for blackmail. He’s got goods on me that I want no one else to see, so for the time being I need to be his little lapdog.
I’ll marry his daughter. I’ll give him all the status, money and power he can handle… for as long as it takes me to get a divorce. You see, I can’t renege on our little arrangement – but she can. I give her a week. One week and she’ll be screaming the place down for her legal counsel.
I am never wrong.
“Do you, Jennifer Courtney Redcliff, take Mark Matthews as your wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love, cherish, honor and obey, till death do you part, according to God’s holy law?”
I smiled sweetly, looking at my openly grinning husband-to-be and nearly choked. How the hell had he managed to get the ‘obey’ word in there?
There was a pause as I cleared my throat, and for a moment Mark’s eyes flickered as if he dared me to object. Little did he know my father would rip my throat out if I decided to pull a stunt like that. So, I simply gazed up at him adoringly, and with a simpering voice that was an octave too high and coated with fine white sugar, I gushed, “I do.” That wiped the smug smile of his face. There was little time to applaud myself, though. The room began swimming in dizzying circles as the priest finished up his speech and said something about ‘kissing the bride.’ Shit, I’d forgotten all about that part.
Stiffening in panic, I almost gasped out loud, but Mark didn’t let me spoil the carefully orchestrated show. Gently raising my veil, he looked into my eyes for a long moment before carefully smoothing it behind the back of my head. He let his hand caress my cheek briefly, which sent stabbing goose bumps everywhere, before pressing his body firmly into mine. He then took my legs out from underneath me with a firm jolt forward, and my spine curled painfully in the wrong direction. This time I really was going to hit the deck, and as the overdose of Ativan swirled in my brain, I could only hope that the stone below knocked me out cold for the whole duration of the festivities to come. Dropping my bouquet and watching as a shower of pink petals rained down upon us like confetti, I almost screamed, but then a hand curled around my neck and my imminent meeting with the floor was halted.
Then and there, I decided that either this cathedral didn’t like me very much or maybe God was trying to tell me something. Before I got the chance to muse upon those details a set of firm, determined lips began to descend upon mine. Oh no. The scream that had frozen in my throat decided to make itself heard again, but it wasn’t given a chance. As Mark’s lips covered mine, all sensible thought left me, and though I was vaguely conscious of the loud applause and cheering behind me, I paid it little heed. The intense chemistry between us instantly made itself known, and as he dipped me towards the floor, scattering hairpins and sequins everywhere, all I wanted was for that kiss to reach a certain place between my thighs and re-ignite the fire within me. As his tongue swept inside my mouth and sent my hormones crashing into attack mode, my eyes fluttered shut and I could do nothing but pose for the crowd and give them everything they wanted. Even my arms betrayed me as they curled up around Mark’s neck, my fingertips needing the feel of skin on skin. It took Matthew’s less than ten seconds to get me to the point where I wanted to rip his clothes off and rut around naked on the floor. As my eyes opened at the shocking thought, his lips pulled away and he smiled. The bastard knew. He knew exactly the effect his body had on mine and he was playing me for all I was worth.
Christina Mandara is a USA TODAY bestselling author and tends to write dark romance with lashings of kinky naughtiness. Her favourite pastime is travelling, and if it involves sun, sea and… sand then it’s all good.
In her spare time she’s usually cuddled up with a good book, exploring the countryside or baking in the kitchen. In fact, she loves her kitchen so much she’s one of few woman who wouldn’t mind being tied to it! Her first and foremost love is writing, however, and more often than not you’ll find her on a laptop spinning tales of romance, erotica or dark, paranormal fantasies.
She’s a big fan of BDSM in all of its glorious forms, and her favourite item in the toy closet (a box simply isn’t big enough) is her riding crop.
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