Wolfsgate by Cat Porter ~ Excerpt~
Title: Wolfsgate
Author: Cat Porter
Date of Publication: November 20th 2014
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About Wolfsgate
My resurrection, they call it.
They have no bloody idea.
Shipwrecked and lost, left for dead,
Abandoned by my own family.
Drugged and addicted.
My wife saved me, brought me home.
I didn’t even know I had a wife—can I trust her?
I know I want her.
Desperately.
We are two of a kind—the manipulated, the tossed off, the
rejected.
Bitter disappointments, painful secrets, age-old jealousies are
my new shipwreck,
and my wife my new opium.
Is satisfaction to be found in revenge or revenge in
satisfaction?
One thing I do know, without each other we’re both doomed.
Wolfsgate
A sensual 18th century tale of deception, revenge, and the
hunger for love and absolution.
The
door slammed shut, and a moment later the coach swayed off. The air in the
small compartment quickly turned hot and humid.
“Did
you enjoy your card game?” Justine asked. “Were you always such an avid player?
I suppose your company this evening inspired you.”
Brandon
hissed in air and pulled her into his lap with one swift movement. He tugged
her legs over his so that she straddled him. Her chest tightened under the
fierceness of his eyes and his firm grip. That demanding touch lit a fire
inside her, a fire she barely understood. He wrapped a hand around her neck and
pulled her down close taking her mouth in a hungry kiss, his tongue searching
for hers, lashing, inflaming her further. Her fingers gripped the thick lapels
of his great coat.
His
hands traveled down to her hips shoving her into position over him, and a sharp
breath escaped her when she felt the pressure of his hardness right between her
legs, just where she ached for him. The jostling of the coach pushed her
against him roughly, and she let out a small cry as the friction between them
multiplied her need. He let out a heavy breath as he slipped one hand under her
dress over her bare flesh. Her body jerked in his arms, and a low cry escaped
her lips as his fingers found her.
“Yes,
there you are,” he breathed, his voice thick in the darkness.
He
knew her body very well, and she immediately flooded with heat under his
insistent touch. He buried his face in her bosom, his other hand sliding down
her rear. Two of his fingers slid inside her, and she shuddered in his arms.
“Brandon…”
“You’re
soaked.” He let out an expletive-filled groan.
His
fingers claimed her depths as his thumb stroked over her, teasing, rubbing. Her
arms clutched his neck and shoulders, her thighs tightened, and she came apart
sharply in his grip, letting out a low moan.
“You
liked that, eh, Lady Graven?” His smug, harsh tone struck her like an icy blast
of winter air. Was that scorn, a taunt? Had he just proven a point? Her heart
shrank. He had marked her like an animal in heat, showed her who was her
master, proved to her to whom she belonged.
She
twisted back from his chest, but his strength was too much for her. His one
hand fisted tightly in her hair, and he brought their faces inches apart.
“Are
you punishing me?” she asked against his lips, the back of her throat stinging.
“Are you trying to teach me a lesson?”
His
eyes creased. “Punishing you?”
“Yes,
yes, punishing me.”
“What
the devil are you talking about?”
“I
told you you’d hate me for this marriage, you’d resent me.” Her hands pushed
against his shoulders. “Tonight you saw what’s been denied you, and you’re
angry.” His body hardened under her, his fingers gripped her bare thigh.
“I
am annoyed about Charles and Andrew,” Brandon said, his other hand releasing
its tight hold on her hair. “But I don’t hate you.” His hands slid over her
hips and pressed into her rear. Her breath caught in the darkness. The gentle
yet carnal possessiveness of that gesture only set off a spiral of heat in her chest.
“I don’t think I could ever hate you, Justine,” he whispered.
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About Cat Porter
CAT PORTER was born and raised in New York
City, but also spent a few years in Europe and Texas along the way. As an introverted, only
child, she had very big, but very secret dreams for herself. She graduated from
Vassar College, was a struggling actress, an art gallery girl, special events
planner, freelance writer and had all sorts of other crazy jobs all hours of
the day and night to help make her dreams come true. She has two children’s
books traditionally published under her maiden name. She now lives in Athens, Greece
with her husband and three children, and freaks out regularly and still
daydreams way too much. She is addicted to the History Channel, her iPad, her
husband’s homemade red wine, really dark chocolate, and her Nespresso coffee
machine. Writing keeps her somewhat sane, extremely happy, and a productive
member of society.
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