We continue with excerpts from The Art of Desire by Cherie Feather, a new erotic romance from Berkley Heat. Keep reading for the book’s summary and the last of four excerpts. This is a seriously steamy series of excerpts, so read on only if you dare!

Summary:

Museum director Mandy Cooper is obsessed with nineteenth-century artist Catherine Burke-and the artist’s erotically charged relationship with Atacar, her enthralling American Indian lover. But Mandy’s link to the legendary couple runs deeper than she knows. She’s having a heated affair herself-with Jared Cabrillo, Atacar’s handsome great-great nephew who knows precisely what it takes to seduce a woman…

He’s in possession of Catherine’s explicit journal. He knows every intimate detail of what she wanted and needed. But he also knows how desperately Catherine had loved Atacar and how dangerously he’d loved her. The journal is timeless and tragic, and the secrets contained within its pages can bring Mandy and Jared together, or just as surely destroy them both-desire by shocking desire.

E-X-C-E-R-P-T

THREE

Atacar didn’t take me. He didn’t sweep me into frenzied passion. For what seemed like the longest minutes of my life, he continued to hold me at gunpoint.

Should I tell him my name? That I am Catherine Burke, a twenty-two-year-old virgin artist with a wanton reputation? That I want him to kiss me? That I long to feel his nakedness against mine?

What if he didn’t speak English? Then what? My words would be lost on him. But my actions wouldn’t. I repeated what I’d done earlier and looked at his cock. I could see his genitals in much greater detail now that I was standing only a gun barrel away from him. He grew bigger, aroused by my visual attention, and I got bolder.

I brought my gaze to his face and stared him down, biting my bottom lip, sucking it lustfully between my teeth. His granite-cut features didn’t soften. They were as hard as his penis. I felt triumphant. His eyes burned for more. My boldness made them darker, pitched like a midnight fire.

At that point, I expected him to lower the rifle, to sweep me into the passion I craved. But he didn’t. He appeared to be waiting for me, to see what I would do next. Nervous energy skittered through my blood.

What would I do next? I’d never seduced a man before. I couldn’t just stand there like an inexperienced ninny and stare him into ejaculation.

So I did what I assumed a seductress would do. I curtailed my fear and removed my clothing. I got as far as my dress, petticoat and corset cover and stopped, letting him look at me in my ribbon-trimmed corset, lace-hemmed drawers and high-top boots. To heighten the image, I loosed my daytime coiffure, which was already messy from my nap, allowing my wheat-colored hair to fall in long, unbound waves.

Atacar finally lowered his gun, resting the butt of the weapon on the ground. He looked at me if I were a divine delicacy, the best sweetmeat he would ever taste. My breasts tingled. The juncture between my thighs went moist.

He jutted his chin, telling me, without words, to complete my state of undress. I prepared to unfasten my corset, and a sudden noise caught both of our attentions.

The rustle of foliage, of riders approaching.

Atacar moved at a spinning pace, and so did I. We gathered our clothes and dashed for the cottonwoods. He latched onto my arm to speed me up, and I felt as if I were being dragged. He was much taller than I was, making quicker strides. His horse spooked and ran, too. The animal disappeared out of sight. The riders were still coming from the opposite direction.

Once we were hidden in the trees, Atacar pushed me down and thrust his water-damp body on top of mine. He was heavy, big and muscular, and the air whooshed out of me.

He lifted his head and arched his torso to see who would appear. All I could see was his naked chest, which bore varying scars. War wounds, I presumed. I knew he was clutching his rifle. If the riders threatened us, he would attack, living up to his name.

The strangers arrived. I heard them dismount. I heard them talking, too. They were cowboys, filling their canteens at the stream, discussing the stray cattle for which they were searching.

Atacar’s posture relaxed a bit, and I realized that he understood what they were saying. I could have spoken to him after all. Either way, I suspected that he was relieved that the other men weren’t associated with the army. Luckily, they didn’t linger. They were gone soon enough.

Leaving Atacar and I alone once again.

This time I waited to see what he would do. Would he lift his body from mine and don his clothes so he could track his missing horse? Or would he stay where he was, pressed intimately against me?

He stayed.

Our gazes locked. My heart rapped in raw excitement. His hips bumped mine, creating friction. His arousal returned, stone hard and insistent.

“I’m aware of who you are,” I said.

“And I’m aware that you’re bewitching me,” he responded in a strong, choppy accent I’d never heard before. But that was probably how Indians sounded when they spoke English.

Dangerous. Exotic.

“Soldiers came through this area last week,” I told him. “I saw your picture.”

“And now you want to lie with me?”

I nodded, feeling my pulse rise. “Yes.”

After that, we quit talking. Our words no longer mattered. I battled my corset, and he tugged at my drawers. I didn’t show him that the crotch seam was open. I let him pull them down instead.

I knew that women could have orgasms, and I was anxious to experience what my bohemian friends in Paris whispered so deliciously about. They’d told me that I could make it happen myself, but I’d wanted to wait for my first lover.

And here he was.

Atacar kissed me, his tongue fornicating with mine. He tasted wild and forbidden, and I hungered for more. Liquid heat, as powerful as the sun itself, rained down on us.

Experimenting, I rubbed his cock, circling the head. It was silkier than I imagined. I felt as wonderfully wanton as my reputation, sliding my hand up and down, enjoying the gliding sensation. He groaned and kissed me harder. Our teeth clashed, and I bit his lip. He pinned me down and told me do it again, and I made a drop of his blood spill into my mouth.

We rolled over in the dirt, the grass-patched, leaf-laden ground abrading the exposed portions of my skin. My corset, which laced in back and contained a front opening, was partially undone, and my drawers were halfway down my legs. A twig scratched my bare bottom.

Atacar used his fingers, parting the curls that covered my mound, and I spread my thighs for him. He looked down, aroused by how willing I was to expose myself, to let him see. I looked down at him, too. His cock was even more engorged. I imagined him spending his seed all over me.

He played with the secret folds of my flesh, making me sinfully wet, making me squirm. I didn’t need to wonder if the nub he tended was my clitoris. I knew it was. My bohemian friends whispered deliciously about that, too. I finally understood why.

The world burst at my core. I shuddered and shook, lifting my hips in jerking motions. He dipped two fingers inside, spreading even more wetness, more of what I needed. I panted until there was barely breath left in my lungs.

Then I heard a familiar voice call my name. “Catherine!”

Atacar rolled away and grabbed his rifle.

“No!” I told him, scrambling to right my undergarments, pulling up my drawers and fastening my corset. “That’s my nanny. I’m from England, and she came to America with me.” I managed to put my petticoat in place, but I couldn’t find my corset cover so I climbed into my dress the way I was, nearly tripping over the fabric. Nanny kept calling out to me, expressing her concern. I’d been gone a long time.

Atacar shoved on his clothes, too. But he couldn’t get his cock to behave. In spite of our predicament, he remained half hard, the buttons on his pants straining. He still desired me.

For all the good it did. By now, he looked as if he wanted to rip my hair from my pretty little head, to make me suffer for his unresolved erection. I hoped that scalping one’s enemies wasn’t a practice in his tribe.

Nanny called my name again.

“Hurry,” he snapped. “Go to her. Before she finds you here with me.”

“I’m trying.” I had leaves in my un-scalped hair, and my hastily fastened corset was threatening to come undone. I was an abomination.

It was to no avail. Nanny discovered us. She came puffing through an opening in the trees, stopped in her tracks, her gaze darting from me to him, then back to me. Although my appearance was ravished, she didn’t accuse Atacar of hurting me. She must have recognized a seductress when she saw one.

“Goodness, child.” She shook her head, her double chin quivering. “What have you done?”

#

 

It was done.

Jared leaned against the sink while Mandy popped the dildo out of the cast. She traced the naughty phallus, and his cock went hard.

“It’s you.” Her fingers caressed the rubber form, moving from the head to the shaft to the testes. “Every sexy detail.”

“You’re making me excited.” He leaned over to kiss her, the toy pressed against her blouse.

“Pierce it,” she said.

He used a needle. Mandy seemed intrigued, studying the procedure. He put a circular barbell in the same location as his piercing to give her the familiarity she craved. He washed the dildo with an antibacterial solution, cleaning it for her.

Once it was dry, Mandy licked the newly decorated head. He thought about the blowjob she’d given him earlier and got even more excited. He wanted her to suck the dildo, too.

“Let’s go.” He took her hand and they went into her bedroom.

Jared removed the quilt and top sheet from her bed, leaving the bottom sheet and two pillows. Her room was soft and feminine with white washed furniture, pastel prints and hints of lace. It was perfect for tonight, ideal for a man’s voyeuristic obsession. He angled a chair, positioning it at the footboard, where he intended to watch the show. He put the dildo in the center of the bed, along with the lubricant they’d brought.

She dimmed the lights and lit the candles, placing them on the dresser beside several ornate bottles of perfume. The stage was set, he thought.

Jared took his seat, and Mandy turned toward him. The kama sutra candle began scenting the air, the light rose fragrance enhancing the ambience.

“Take off your clothes,” he said.

She stripped, removing her sandals first, then her blouse and jeans. Her flesh-colored bra and panties came next. She had small breasts with full pink nipples. Her stomach was flat, and her hips flared. As always, her pussy was delicately waxed. She was so beautiful, she looked like a centerfold come to life.

“Give me your panties,” he said.

She walked forward and handed him her daintily laced underwear. He tucked them into the front right pocket of his jeans, taking them as a trophy, wanting to keep something that belonged to her close to him.

All pink and pretty, she blinked, seeming unsure of what to do next.

He motioned with his chin. “Get on the bed.”

She did as he instructed, kneeling on the sheet, waiting to fulfill the rest of his needs.

He gave her another aroused order. “Lick the dildo. All of it. Every inch. And imagine it’s me.”

“It is you.” She darted her tongue over the head and played lavishly with the piercing.

By the time she worked her way down, he scooted to the edge of his seat. She held the phallus high enough for him to see her scoop one of the balls into her mouth.

Damn, he thought. Hot fucking damn. “Do that to the other one. Then give it a really nasty blowjob. Hot and dirty, the way I like it.”

She didn’t disappoint. Clutching the base, she wrapped her lips around the dildo and sucked, pumping the device as if it really were his dick. She tipped back her head, exposing the ladylike column of her neck.

Somehow, someway, Jared was going to get through this without jerking off. Looking but not touching, her or himself, was part of the fantasy.

Mandy made the dildo come. Or that was how it seemed in his mind. He imagined white-hot liquid spurting into her mouth. She even made a swallowing sound. When she released the dildo, she licked her lips.

This was the best fantasy he’d ever had, and it was just getting started. “Put the lube on it now. Make it as slick as you can.”

She used a generous amount, gliding the silicone solution over the rubber form. He could almost feel her sleek, smooth strokes. She took her time, favoring her new toy.

“Lie back and spread your legs,” he told her.

Mandy propped both pillows against the headboard and opened her thighs. But it wasn’t enough.

“Wider,” he said. “All the way.”

She inched them open a bit more.

He didn’t back down. It was part of the game, and they both knew it. “More. Show me how pretty you are. Show me what I want to see.”

She did it. She went as wide as she could, exposing her inner folds. He didn’t ask her to do anything else. He just sat there, staring at her cunt.

Mandy flexed her hips, offering him an even prettier view of her labia and the hood of her clit. She glistened in her own juices. He could only imagine how much wetter she was going to get.

He lifted his gaze to her face, and she gave him her best naughty-girl smile. He’d never met anyone like her. Good. Bad. Shy. Wild. He wanted to grab her panties out of his pocket and press them against his fly.

“Tell me to put it in,” she said.

“Not yet.” He needed a minute.

She clutched the dildo. “When?”

He took a steadying breath. “Now. But don’t insert it very deep. Go slow so I can see it happen.”

Mandy followed his direction, soft and easy, and he watched the pierced head disappear.

“A little more.”

She gave the dildo another tender push, and he marveled at how sweet and sexy she was. She was looking down at herself, watching, too.

When she glanced up, they stared at each other. He unzipped his jeans to ease the pressure, to make his hard-on more bearable. His boxers tented through the opening.

“Go deeper,” he said. “But not all the way. Just enough to hit your G-spot.”

She made a curious expression, biting the inside of her cheek, looking girlish and womanly at the same time. “I don’t know how far that is. I’ve never tried to find…”

“Try it halfway. At an angle.” He knew it was difficult to reach during regular sex, but devices like dildos and vibrators were easier to maneuver. Some vibrators were made especially for that spot.

“Like this?” She repositioned the dildo, angling it with each stroke.

“Yeah. Like that.” Jared spread his thighs. He wanted to give up the fight. He wanted to jerk off, as hard and fast as he could, but he gripped the underside of his chair instead.

Mandy stimulated her G-spot, using both hands to hold the tool, going at a watch-me pace that drove him half mad. Her rhythm was steady–shallow, then hard, then shallow again.

She went faster and her firm little tits bounced with each pumping stroke. Her nipples were as hard as rock candy. He wanted to dissolve them on his tongue.

“I like doing this for you.” She arched her back against the pillows and thrust her hips. “Just for you.” She thrust again, showing him how good it was.

He tightened the hold on his chair.

“Jared.” She panted his name, making sure his gaze was locked on the point of impact.

He dragged a gust of rose-scented air into his lungs. He felt as if he were going to explode. He knew she was going to come.

Her orgasm ignited the bed, shooting imaginary sparks straight at him. He could have sworn that she’d made the flames on the candles dance. The kama sutra couple melted all over each other.

When it was over, Jared gave Mandy, and himself, time to recuperate.

Before he told her to do it again.

#

Atacar scowled at me. He’d planned to cross the hills and ride into Mexico, where he could escape the law. But he didn’t recover his horse.

He blamed me for his dilemma, claiming his desire for me had affected his judgment. He should have tracked his horse before it had gotten so far away from him.

“I bewitched you,” I bragged, making his scowl deepen. He wasn’t amused, and neither was Nanny.

He formulated a new plan, pulling her and me into it. He assumed that we lived within walking distance of the stream or else we wouldn’t have traveled on foot. He questioned me, making sure we resided alone, just the two of us. We did. At a farmhouse I’d purchased from the bank. Up until last week, we had a farmhand, but he’d left our employment to marry the widow he’d been courting. Nanny and I had yet to replace him.

Rifle in hand, Atacar nudged us forward, insisting that we offer him food and lodging until he raided a neighboring ranch for another horse to steal.

I carried my stretching board and paintbox, and Nanny trudged beside me, complaining that Atacar was forcing us to the farm so he could steal our horse. We only had one, and we needed it to pull our buggy when we went into town for supplies.

“That Red Indian will leave us on the plains to starve,” she said, even though I caught her darting wistful glances at him.

Nanny was rather plump, with graying brown hair and sagging bosoms. I’d heard that she was quite voluptuous in her youth. Long before she’d become my nursemaid, she’d been a fetching farm girl. She’d also been accused of having a forbidden tryst with a notorious London thief. She’d denied the allegation, but I always wondered if the story were true. Now seeing the way she looked at Atacar, I suspected it was. My old Nanny missed her thief.

Hours later, Nanny served supper. The three of us sat at a simple wooden table and ate in silence. Compared to the genteel dwelling in which I’d been raised, the farmhouse was primitive. But in this area, it was considered quite nice. Nanny and I each had our own bedroom, and I used the third for my studio.

I watched Atacar beneath my lashes, trying to get his attention. I caught Nanny’s instead. She scolded me, squinting her eyes and pursing her lips. It wasn’t unlike me to misbehave during a meal. I’d done so at society events, poking fun at my already soiled reputation. My parents were greatly relieved when I’d expressed an interest in moving to America. Father bestowed a portion of my own dowry upon me, providing means for my survival. He was certain I would never snare a respectable husband anyway.

Nanny pursed her sour-plum lips again. I ignored her and resumed flirting with Atacar. He finally turned his frustrated gaze upon me.

“How long are you going to be uncivil?” I asked.

“When you stop bewitching me.”

“I won’t stop,” I countered.

“Then I’ll be civil,” he said, leaning toward me and speaking directly in my ear, keeping his words from Nanny, “after I fuck you.”

His harshness aroused me. But it frightened me, too. Had I taken my seductress game too far? Would he thrust hard and fast upon entering me? Would losing my maidenhead be more painful than it should be?

“You’ll be the first,” I whispered back, too stubborn to let my fear show.

His expression changed. He seemed confused. How could such a brazen girl be a virgin?

“I’ve been waiting for a man who makes me feel the way you do,” I admitted.

Atacar didn’t dispute my claim. He didn’t say anything. He just looked at me, as if I’d bewitched him even more. I relaxed, sensing that he would be gentle my first time.

The farmhouse had a sleeping loft in the barn. At bedtime, Atacar told me to meet him there. I knew it was because he wanted to lie with me where Nanny couldn’t hear us. She knew it, too. She’d figured out that she’d interrupted us in the cottonwoods before he could deflower me.

I changed into my finest undergarments, a red corset and matching drawers that were fashionably called lingerie. I brushed my hair until it shined, pinning a portion of it up and allowing the remainder to fall freely. I removed a buttercup from the glass jar beside my bed and worked it into my coiffure.

Before I left for the barn, Nanny draped me in a blanket. She insisted that I drink a special blend of tea, too. She told me that it would help me relax. So I took a few sips of the brew she offered.

“While you were getting ready, I asked Atacar why he speaks English so well,” she said. “And do you know what his response was?”

I shook my head. The blanket was soft and fluffy, providing the comfort she wanted me to have. The tea helped, as well.

“He scouted for the army,” Nanny told me. “He translated for them, too.”

“If he served the army, then why is he a prisoner of war?”

“After the Chiricahua hostiles surrendered, the entire tribe, including the scouts, were exiled to military installations. First to Florida, then to Alabama and now Oklahoma Territory. It didn’t matter that Atacar served the army, the government treated him and the other scouts as if they were hostiles, too.”

“He’s lived a complex life,” I said.

“Yes, he has.” She tucked the blanket tighter around my shoulders. “And if he doesn’t steal our horse, he’ll probably steal your heart.”

“The way the London thief did to you?”

She didn’t answer. She took my empty teacup and handed me a kerosene lamp. I turned away, slipping off for my rendezvous, the moon a silver crescent in the sky.

I entered the barn and climbed the loft. Atacar waited for me. He was stripped to the waist. I held up the light to admire him and let him appreciate me.

Neither of us spoke. I stepped forward and placed the brass lamp on a hook on the wall, then spread the blanket on a bed of straw.

We came together and kissed, standing on the fluffy floor covering. I showed him that my fancy silk drawers were slit between my legs, and he smiled. It was the first time I’d seen his lips curve. He looked wickedly handsome.

He knelt down and licked me there, right through the opening. I gasped and widened my stance. I knew this was called cunnilingus, and it elicited the warmest, wettest, most naughty sensation. I could scarcely wait to orgasm, to shake and shudder against his tongue.

Atacar gazed up at me, making sure I was watching. I was. Totally. Completely. How could I not? I felt like a wild-hearted bride on her secret wedding night.

He stopped pleasuring me, but only long enough to order me to lie down and remove my drawers. I did his bidding, and he knelt between my thighs and lifted my legs onto his shoulders, licking me some more.

He told me how womanly sweet I tasted, calling my private place my cunt. My bohemian friends had familiarized me with that word, and like all of the other definitions they’d taught me, they’d whispered it scandalously. From Atacar, it sounded rough and dangerously romantic.

I removed my corset so my breasts would spring free. He laved my clitoris and reached up to stimulate one of my nipples, to roll it between his thumb and forefinger.

I scooted even closer to his mouth. I was drenched with his salvia and my own honey-slick moisture. He stilled his tongue, and I rubbed against his face, teasing him the way he teased me.

Finally he resumed his skillful ministration, and I put I my fingers down there, encouraging him to lick them. He turned my boldness into a game and told me to do it, too. So I did. I tasted my own fingers after they’d been inside me.

Heat danced between us. I couldn’t take my eyes off of him, and he couldn’t stop looking at me. I’d aroused him, and myself, beyond reason.

I climaxed, even more powerful than before, streams of fire bursting through my quaking body.

After it was over, Atacar wiped the wetness from his face and rose up to hold me. I clung to his neck, and he said something in Apache. I had no idea what it was, but I could tell it was an endearment. He removed his pants and slid between my legs, his rock-hard penis poised at my soft, slick entrance. My heartbeat quickened and I exhaled a virginal breath.

Desperate for him to take me.