A Wicked Christmas 1869

A Wicked Christmas 1869.jpg

A WICKED CHRISTMAS 1869

by Nia Farrell

Release Date December 1, 2017.  Length: 6,442 words.

Amazon e-book http://mybook.to/WC1869 or https://www.amazon.com/dp/B076VNB7DN

Goodreads http://bit.ly/WC1869GR or https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/36481530-a-wicked-christmas-1869

 

In this sizzling short story, Elena Davenport Wainwright gets ready to celebrate her second Christmas with her husbands Edward Wainwright and Daniel O’Flaherty.  Suffering from “soldier’s heart” (PTSD) from her service in the Civil War, Elena looks to the Dominant Edward for shelter from the storms of life.  But on the anniversary of her kidnapping, it’s the Master who needs reassurance.

Although written as a standalone, your enjoyment will be enhanced if you have read As Wicked as You Want, named one of The 50 Best Indie Books of 2016, voted #1 erotica and #10 overall.

Historical MMF ménage erotic romance, a short story written for Ages 18+.

 

Excerpt:

Edward had been quiet at supper.  Introspective, rather than troubled or morose.  Indeed, he was not given to nostalgia, nor to the dark nights of the soul that had plagued me since the war.  Daniel understood what it meant to have “soldier’s heart.”  He had one, too, although to a much lesser degree.  Mine was crippling.  The first time Edward witnessed it, he had served as my anchor, offering safe harbor when Fourth of July gunfire had triggered an episode that left me puddled on the floor.

Then, and now, he provided shelter from every storm.  Tonight, though, he was in need of reassurance.

Disregarding the ache in my thigh, I knelt between his and Daniel’s feet and rested my cheek against the fine wool covering Edward’s muscled thigh, welcoming the feel of his hand upon my head.  My hair had grown out considerably since I’d met him.  It pleased him to free it from its net and pins, winnow his fingers through my ebony locks, arrange them over my shoulders, and smooth my hair with his hand.

I sighed, content with my station.

“My boy,” Edward rumbled after a time.  Even before he used his pet name for Daniel, I could feel the shift in his energy.  Whatever had made him quiet before had given way to burgeoning passion.  The proof of it was straining his seams and testing the buttons of his pants.  “Lock the door.”

Not that the servants would bother us.  His staff had been with him long enough to understand the way of things.  A closed door meant that we wished for privacy.  Only an emergency that demanded the master’s attention was cause enough for their interruption.

No sooner had Daniel turned the key than Edward had his fly open and his erection in hand.  Fisting himself, he watched watching Daniel’s approach with keen interest, his deviant’s mind alive with possibilities.

What he would ask of us was anyone’s guess.

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