For Jane and anyone else curious about my upcoming book, The Men Who Would Be Queen, here is an excerpt from the book, which will be released no later than August 31st!
This is a scene wherein the former Crown Prince, now trapped in the body of a woman and forced to marry, is taken by his husband:
He kissed my cheek and seemed to be searching for my lips through the tangled hair that lay across my face. I turned my head to the side, fearing that kiss, that intimacy, that connection…
One hand left my breasts while the other pinched my nipple, harder than ever. He grabbed my chin and forced me to face him. I stared into his eyes, and he held my there, powerless, staring back into mine, his black eyes hard and hungry like a wolf’s, and then he kissed me, covering my plush, soft lips with his own, forcing his tongue into my mouth as he once again squeezed my breast. I put my palms on his chest, trying to push him off me, but he was so big, so strong, that I just pushed myself down, deeper into the soft quilts of my bed, and he kissed me again, taking his free hand, keeping one busy playing with my nipple, and then he slipped his other down between my legs and found my …. special button that women have…and the tears poured from eyes as my body, ignoring my horror and my will, seemed to explode, a fireball of pleasure spreading through my belly and my limbs and curling my toes.
I lay there stunned, not sure for a moment where or who I was, staring at this man as he stared down at me, cupping my smooth cheek. Then, he brushed my hair from my eyes, brushed it back gently, like I was a child, and he said, “woman.” He patted me on the hip, then he stood and sauntered off, back to his own tent, leaving me there to pull my long legs to my chest and hug myself beneath the veil of my long, soft hair.
Woman. No. Still, I clung to myself. I am a man. A warrior. And I will be king, I thought, ignoring the pain between my legs, in the slit I shouldn’t have, couldn’t have. I am man, I thought, pushing away the memory of that feeling, the feeling of my button, my nipples, the pleasure and the pain… but no. No. I began to fill with despair. I was defeated. The whole kingdom would know of my wedding night, of that fact that I’d been taken as wife by another man. Even should I regain my proper shape, I would never regain my lost respect.
“M’lady,” I heard a soft voice say.
Looking over my shoulder, I saw my best friend, the former Sir Paul Forest, now a leggy, beautiful slave girl known as “Sparkle.”
He came over and knelt by my bed, kissing me on the wrist. “How are you?”
“Terrible,” I said, reaching out to take his soft hand. “I have been bedded by another man. I couldn’t stop him…”
“No,” Sparkle said. “They are so much stronger than us.”
“I am destroyed.”