[Siren Allure: Erotic Fantasy Romance, Historical, Multiple Partners, with F/F and ménage elements, bondage]
Why is The Prince of Frey suddenly unable to control the dark secret that could destroy him? When his wolf begins forcing itself to the surface on the full moon and racing off to a nondescript manor in the woods, his confidante thinks the wolf is seeking a mate. But Prince Jarrod won’t risk his crown or a woman’s life by trying to claim one.
Meanwhile, beautiful servant girl Ella is being tutored in the ways of submissive pleasure, pain, and bondage at the manor by a pair of dominating mistresses who entertain wealthy noblemen for a living. Though Ella is not permitted a man's touch or the delights of orgasm, she learns all she can to some day please the man she will ultimately love.
Amidst sizzling sexual encounters and royal house arrests, the pair forge a fateful bond that could unite them for eternity—or cost them everything.
A Siren Erotic Romance
4 TEA CUPS: "Sinful Ella and the Wolf by J. Rose Allister is a remarkable short story of sacrifice and passion. The characters portrayed in this book are a werewolf, Prince Jarrod, whom does not care to have a mate but can he really hold back if he were to meet the right woman? Werewolves have that sense of feeling when it comes to knowing the presence of their true mate. Ella is a not so bashful of a woman, but lacks the essence of being with her true love, but at this time that cannot happen since she is a servant. The forest is the only thing that can reunite these two characters and Allister does a fantastic writing on how they encounter each other, allowing nature takes its course. But being a Prince is everything for Prince Jarrod and love is the last thing on his mind. The tempting encounters that Allister writes for these characters is amazing, but no one sees it coming. No matter what, when loves ignites, it might leave you breathless. Are they both ready for the consequences of their feelings for each other? I recommend this book, Sinful Ella and the Wolf, for anyone to read." -- Monica, Happily Ever After Reviews
Jarrod Montecleer sniffed along through the woods, backtracking his path. He’d remembered everything this time, except where exactly he had left his clothes.
His mind raced while he followed his own scent. Four times now he’d inexplicably found himself near the manor in the woods. The home and surrounding woods were unremarkable, save one striking attribute—the delicate beauty with silken blonde hair who lived in the manor. The woman had shocked him both times he’d seen her, for different reasons. The first time, she’d been out alone in the black of night, hauling a bucket toward the manor. What had a woman been doing by herself out there? Was she daft or merely unconcerned about the dangers that lurked in the woods?
That had been a month prior, before he’d thought himself free of the nightly blackouts that kept bringing him here. Now the problem had returned, only this time he remembered everything. Despite a fevered struggle, the full moon had beckoned him outside. Once free in the night, he’d raced straight to the manor grounds. It was at first light that he saw the woman again, this time standing naked in an upstairs window. Her breasts were full and swayed deliciously when she moved, and the electric shock of her gaze startled him.
His scent sharpened, and he knew his clothes were near. He spotted them at the edge of the woods just as he caught the sound of men on horseback. He froze, flaring his nostrils and pricking up his ears. Not just any men, either.
With an irritated snort, he closed his eyes and sought deep for the burning tingle that began in his spine and spread outward. Soon every inch of him was barraged by the sting of a hundred thousand needles, as though his circulation had been cut off and then suddenly restored. Afterward came a flash, and he found himself bent in half, his hands and feet flat on the dirt just as the royal guard burst through the trees. “Jarrod!”
His father looked neither amused nor particularly resplendent despite his mighty white steed and the banners flanking him. The king of Frey’s crown and purple riding robes were askew, as though both had been thrown on in haste on his way out of the castle. Most likely, that was exactly what had happened.
“Have you gone mad?” His father roared. “What the blazing devil are you doing outside the castle grounds again? And without any clothes?”
Jarrod strolled to his garments and picked them up. “I have clothes, Father. Right here.”
“Don’t toy with me, boy,” he said. “I’ve been out half the night searching for you.”
“There was no need to abandon your cozy bed,” Jarrod said, pulling on black breeches and an emerald silk tunic. “I’m not an infant.”
“No, you’re crown prince of the realm,” the king shouted while Jarrod tugged on knee-high boots. “You cannot disappear on a whim. Your security is paramount. Anything could happen in these woods, as you of all people, should know.”
“I could just as easily meet misfortune in a poisoned goblet.”
His father snorted. “Not in my castle. And I will not have you flaunting yourself about in such a scandalous manner.” He turned to the captain of his guard. “Leave his horse and return to the castle. If one word of this is spoken, there will be tongue on the dinner menu and fewer to wag among the guard.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
The prince’s black mount, Draegon, was brought forward while Jarrod fastened the clasp on his black velvet cloak. The king growled. “The royal tailor says you do not allow garments to be made in the purple that is our birthright. You dress as though you are in mourning.”
He bit back the obvious response and stroked Draegon’s muzzle. “I hear black is slimming. I imagine it will be quite the fashion someday.”
“Purple defines you as royalty.”
“Wise, then, that I should travel the woods without such an obvious mark.”
“Yet you travel the palace corridors without it as well.” The king watched as the last of the guard retreated. “Why do you persist in disobeying my order to remain within the castle walls?”
“Why does any prisoner seek escape?”
“A palace is hardly a dungeon.”
“May as well be.” Jarrod sighed. “Why did you come, Father? Why not simply trust that I would return?”
The man’s gaze darkened. “I should like to trust my only son to obey the will of his father, for the good of an old man’s heart as well as our kingdom. I almost lost you once.”
“Your heart is strong, as am I. There was no danger to either.” He gave his steed’s shoulder a reassuring pat. “I merely needed some time to think.”
The king’s tone bore incredulity. “Think? I suppose a lack of clothing allows more blood to flow to your brain?”
He flung back his cloak and mounted Draegon. “Fine. So I wasn’t thinking, exactly.”
“Well? What were you doing, exactly?”
Jarrod tugged the reins, the animal’s head bobbing with stubborn pride as he fell into step beside the king. “Can you not guess what a young man might be doing when he sneaks out and is discovered naked?”
The elder man growled. “No need to risk your neck just to wet your royal spear, son. The nobility would be no more pleased than I to hear of the irresponsible manner in which you are romancing one of their daughters.” He peered at Jarrod. “Who is she? Do I sense a wedding announcement coming?”
Jarrod refused to meet the fiery green eyes that were so much like his own. There would be never be such an announcement. He’d lost all hope of that in these very woods four years ago. “She’s no one of consequence.”
The elder Montecleer snorted in disgust. “Further reason to stop such foolishness. You’re a royal, lad. Leave the chaff alone and stick to the wheat.”
Etianna retrieved a soft crop from the nearby side table before moving behind an already squirming duke. “Andre,” she said, “see to it your mistress’ ass is warmed. By hand.”
He immediately complied, and a loud slap followed. Faye moaned while Etianna rubbed her crop on the duke’s ass. “Does His Grace enjoy my whip?”
“Call me Wilfred,” he said, his voice strained.
Ella felt her stomach warm as Etianna’s hand drew back. He tensed and gasped when her snapping stroke connected. Ella recalled how the first stinging blows shocked her body but soon heated into a tingling need that spread throughout her abdomen. She unfolded her sweaty palms and gripped the arms of her chair. She did her best to ignore Wilfred, instead watching Andre work. His tunic hung loose over tan breeches that no doubt concealed an erection by now. His gaze was fastened to Faye’s ass while he delivered even, firm slaps. Ella had never been allowed to have spankings skin to skin and tried to imagine what a man’s hand would feel like delivering such discipline. She tried not to squirm in her seat, but it was becoming more difficult to restrain her growing desire.
The spanking ceased, and Etianna knelt in front of the duke. Her head bobbed back and forth over his member, and greedy sucking sounds followed. His head dropped back with a moan.
“God, Etianna,” he ground out. “You suck like no woman I’ve bedded.”
“Hey,” Faye said, her chains rattling. “What about me?”
Wilfred grinned. “Sisters can have different talents. You ride a man like wild Godiva racing to a fire.”
Faye flushed with pleasure. “Andre. Come fuck me.”
“No,” Etianna said. “You wait for our guest, Faye.” She leaned back, sitting buttocks to heels. “Your Grace, what special pleasure may we offer you this eve?”
His beady gaze flicked immediately to Ella.
“Besides her,” Etianna said. “She is not touched by men yet.”
“Not touched by men,” he said. “But not untouched?”
There was a brief pause. “She has serviced us, but we have not returned the favor.”
His gaze darkened. “Then I wish to see you taste her.”
Ella gasped. She could hardly breathe when her mistress came and stood over her.
“Ella,” Etianna said, “lift your dress and spread your legs.”
Unable to trust her voice, she nodded and wriggled her ass until her skirts were bunched around her waist. She sat with her knees parted and bare cheeks resting on the warm seat.
The duke sucked in a breath. “Gods, the maid wears no undergarments?”
Faye giggled. “Our servants aren’t allowed any. It causes the most delicious rubbing to be naked under your clothes. Keeps them in a state of arousal.”
The man swore an oath. “And she’s blonde below like the sunshine on her head. How I’d love to taste that honey.”
A fierce rush of heat flooded her cheeks at the close scrutiny she was receiving. Even Andre was watching with an intensity she’d not seen on his face before.
Etianna dropped to her knees before Ella, and the first touch of her fingers parting Ella’s curls made her jerk in surprise.
“Relax,” Faye said. “Enjoy the ride. I fancy you’ve earned it, despite your clumsiness.”
Ella closed her eyes. She felt hot breath on her sex, then a wet tongue brushing the delicate inner lips. She arched against the chair back. No other part of Etianna touched her but quick, flicking moments of wet fire against throbbing flesh. Soon Ella was pushing her hips up to try and get more contact.
Etianna pulled back. “No, Ella. Let it happen. Show discipline.”
She took in a deep breath, willing her heart to slow and her body to obey. The effect of tongue on flesh was maddening, like being trapped where heaven and hell met on the horizon. A prickle of perspiration dotted her forehead and her stomach tightened with delectable tension.
She was handling herself fairly well until Etianna hit a particularly magical spot just beneath her clit. Then one of Ella’s hands left the chair of its own accord, to press her mistress’s head more firmly against the sensitive spot.
Duke Wilfred growled in obvious passion, but Etianna pulled away. “No more.”
“Please,” Ella cried out. “Forgive me. Don’t stop.”
“Yes,” the duke said. “I would see more of the elf’s pleasure.”
Etianna’s glower suggested Ella would be sorry the duke had sided with her. “Andre? Bind Ella’s hands behind the chair.”
Andre removed his belting and did as instructed. Once she was secure, the tongue lavished her again, this time without mercy. It slid back and forth with the same teasing strokes that drove Faye mad. When it circled her clit, Ella gasped in hope that the ecstatic licking would never end. When it dipped to her virgin entrance, Ella prayed it would stab deep inside. Soon she was frantic, pulling at her restraints and whimpering in frustration.
“She’s getting close,” Faye said.
Etianna murmured against Ella’s pussy, causing waves of pleasure to begin centralizing in one spot. “Not close enough.”
Fire licked at Ella’s body, and sweat trickled between her breasts. “Please, mistress. Please let me come.”
With a smile, Etianna pulled back and left Ella bereft. Her sex throbbed while her mistress turned away and walked up to the duke. “Did that please you?” She reached down and grabbed his stiff, bobbing cock. “I can see that it did.” Frustrated tears stung Ella’s eyes while Etianna reached over and slapped Wilfred hard on the ass. “You naughty man.” To her sister she said, “Ready to get fucked?”