Will Nimia Be Able to Control Her Sexual Desires in This Sultry Novel?

Temptress Unbound is the sensuous sixth story in national bestselling author Lisa Cach's passionate Fifty Shades of Grey meets Game of Thrones series about a young Roman Empire slave who, after being tutored in the sexual arts by her king, runs away to save her life.

Once trained in the carnal arts to be the king's concubine, Nimia has a prophetic gift that is triggered by her sexual encounters. Finally free, she forsakes the powerful men who have used her gifts for their own gain. As her sexual adventures continue, she searches for true love — and for her people, the Phanne, from whom she was originally stolen.

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It was a happy night, but my talk with Maerlin had spoiled my mood and my feet were nigh frozen. I retreated through the villa toward my small room, craving only quiet and a warm blanket.

I had just stepped into a dim corridor when hands came down on my shoulders, spun me around, and then pressed me hard up against the wall. A man's mouth came down on mine, swift and furious, with the sweet flavor of cider still on his tongue.

It ended as quickly, and as he drew back I breathed his name.

"Arthur."

"One kiss, on a night when rules are upended," he said, his voice rough and deep, and not wholly sober.

"Only one?"

"I swore it was all I would allow myself, until you are mine." He bent his head to the side of my neck, his warm breath sending delicious shivers up over my scalp. He sucked the lobe of my ear into his mouth, released it slowly, and whispered, "I have word that Mordred spends the solstice at Calleva, the invited guest of Horsa."

I drew in a breath. "So Horsa may have chosen him for Wynnetha's hand."

"May have. Or may do so shortly."

I slid my arms around his neck and felt a bubble of joy rising in my chest. It frightened me; it was so fragile, so tremulous, and yet so beautifully bright. "Then you are free."

He gently drew my hands from him, kissed their backs, and then held them pressed against his chest. "Not yet. But gods willing, I soon will be." He cupped my cheek in one hand, his thumb brushing over my brow. "And when that happens, Nimia—when that happens, you shall be mine."

With a groan of pain he lifted me all the way off him. I could feel the shaking in his arms as he fought his own desire, denying himself the warm, enclosing wetness of my passage. "Just . . . rest for a moment," he said aloud, settling me beside him in the furs.

"I don't need to rest." My hand drifted toward his staff and he grabbed my wrist, stopping it just short of its goal.

"You do, if all you can concentrate on is my c*ck."

"It feels so good, I can't help it."

He said something dark in a language I'd never heard. "This is what you didn't learn on Mona: the need to keep your wits when your body and your power are begging you to abandon yourself to their wishes."

That scraped some of the film of lust from my eyes. He was right, of course. I'd gotten into trouble because I didn't know how to do that. "I don't have any wits left when it's like this."

"No one does. But as much trouble as a normal person will get into when they're too horny to think, at least they can't do the damage that someone like you or I can. You have to keep control, Nimia—or next time, it might not be only yourself you hurt."

I wrapped my arms over my belly. "If your goal was to douse my passion, you've succeeded."

"Not douse it. Just . . . slow it." His voice lowered and took on a rough edge. "You can like slow, I think."

My sex pulsed. "How slow?"

"Come here."

With a little more awkwardness than was sexy, I did as he bid and again straddled him, only this time facing forward. I supported myself with my hands on his raised knees as he guided his c*ck inside me at a steep angle, the hard ridge of it rubbing at new pressure points that made me want to bite him and demand he shove his finger up my ass.

When he was fully inside me, he gently pulled me toward him until my back was arched and my head rested with some strain on his shoulder. I could feel the bending of his c*ck inside me, the angle nearly making him slip out.

"If you try to move," he whispered against my ear, "you'll lose me."

"And if I don't move?"

With the tip of one finger he lightly, delicately, drew a fine circle around my stamen. I shuddered with pleasure. "You'll learn to love patience."

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