Hello, lovelies!
I have another teaser from the Teplo Files for you. I've sent the first book of the trilogy, Ravished, off to the beta team to see what they think about where I decided to end it. While they work their magic, I've been editing through the second book (tentatively titled Rhapsody). This particular teaser comes from there and is probably NSFW. Unless your boss doesn't mind you reading naughtiness... in which case I'd like to be your new coworker, please. ;)
Enjoy!
Lillian stopped mid-stretch when
she caught sight of Tristan, her cheeks turning that dusty rose color he loved.
"Hey," she mumbled, averting her gaze.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing."
"Liar." He
frowned, stepping into the room. No way did she get to go back to half-truths
and evasions now.
She huffed, lifting her
head. "It's nothing. I just didn't realize you were there."
"So?" he asked,
not seeing her point.
"It's weird."
She grimaced, her hands fluttering at her sides.
Tristan pursed his lips.
Lillian avoided his gaze,
instead smoothing an invisible wrinkle in her leotard. The blush in her cheeks
deepened.
Why was she embarrassed?
"Talk to me,
beautiful."
She hesitated a moment.
"Once a month, Madame Goffe would open our practices to the kids studying
at the school associated with the Company. Those who performed well during the
week would line up along the walls and watch us warm up, imaging themselves in
our positions." She frowned, a soft sigh stirring the fine hairs framing
her face. "No one except my therapist has watched me stretch since."
"I love watching you
move," he murmured.
"I'm not very
graceful," she said, her gaze flitting down to rest on her scar and then
away. "Not
anymore."
He hated the sad, shamed smile twisting at her lips.
Striding across the room to
her, he held his hand out. "Come here," he requested.
She bit her lip, debating, and then reached for his hand.
Getting her up from the
floor took no effort at all.
Once she had her feet
beneath her, he turned her until her back rested against her chest.
She stood tense and rigid
against him, but that didn't matter. Fingers of heat still wound their way through him.
"I like having you in my arms," he leaned in to whisper in her ear.
She tilted her head to the
side, granting him access to the side of her neck.
"What's this
song?" he asked when she relaxed a little, letting him support her weight.
"It's from Giselle. Do
you know the story?"
"No." He brushed
his lips across her ear, causing her to shiver. "Tell me."
"It's a romantic ballet
about jealousy, deception, forgiveness, and transcendent love," she
said as he slid his hands from her waist onto her rib cage. "Giselle
is the most beautiful woman in her village, which causes Duke Albrecht and Hilarion,
the gamekeeper, to fall in love with her. But the Duke is betrothed to a
princess and knows he can never truly have Giselle. In an act of sheer desperation,
he disguises himself as a peasant to get close to her. His plan works, and
Giselle falls deeply in love with him. Whenever he pays her call, they dance
together. Their love is so apparent; the village youth join in their dances,
filling the village with joy.
"When Hilarion sees
this dance, he realizes he's lost Giselle to Albrecht. His jealousy spirals out
of control and he vows to find out what the Duke is hiding so he can tear them
apart, thus allowing him to win her affections for himself."
Tristan listened with half
an ear to her explanation, focusing instead on the way her body moved beneath
his hands. When he shifted, so did she, her body adjusting to him without
conscious thought. Whether the subtle movements were some left over ballerina instinct or a natural response to him didn't matter. He loved them either way.
Her heart hammered against
his fingertips.
"And then what
happens?" He pulled her earlobe into his mouth and nipped, a little demand
that she let go of her anxiety and relax. Inching his way across her ribs, he rubbed
tantalizing circles beneath her breasts, teasing both of them in the process.
Lillian groaned, attempting
to arch into his touch. "Hilarion eventually unmasks the Duke," she
said when Tristan refused to obey that unspoken plea and kept his hands right
where they were, "but Giselle has fallen so madly in love with him that Hilarion's
plan to win her backfires. When she realizes she and the Duke can never truly
be together, she goes mad. The dance she once shared with him becomes something
else, something darker.
"Albrecht watches her,
heartbroken that his deception has caused her such immense pain. He pleads for
her forgiveness, but it's too late. She grabs his sword and stabs herself with
it, unable to bear the heartbreak and humiliation he's thrust upon her. She
dies in her mother's arms, leaving the Duke utterly destroyed."
In reward for continuing, Tristan let his fingertips graze the undersides of her breasts through the thin, form-fitting fabric.
Almost instantly, her breath began to hitch.
Hiding a smirk, Tristan
planted his lips against her throat, licking and sucking.
"And then what,
beautiful?" he whispered against her skin, once more completely captivated
by her. Her scent, her taste, the way she moved, and the breathless moans
whispering from her lips layered one atop the other, stoking to life that
brilliant burn for more… The one he felt every single time he touched her.
"They… Ah…." she
groaned as he sucked at her throat, pulling her skin between his teeth momentarily
before letting go.
"Tell me," he said,
moving on to the fading marks he'd left upon her two nights before. The
faint spots were all but gone now, and the desire to replace them gnawed at him. Something
deep inside him liked the thought of leaving his mark on her, right there where everyone would
see it and know she belonged with him.
At the moment, he didn't really care what that primal desire said about him.
"They bury Giselle in a
glade haunted by the Wilis, spirits of wronged virgins who lure men to their
deaths," Lillian said. "She becomes one of them. When Hilarion goes
looking for her grave one night in grief over what he's caused, the Wilis force
him to dance until he dies. This… Oh God…" she moaned when Tristan let his
fingers climb higher, no longer teasing the undersides of her breasts, but
cupping them fully in his hands.
"This what,
beautiful?" His question came out sounding as strained as her whisper, his
teasing killing them both, but damned if that would stop him. Now that he'd
been all over her, on top of her, inside of her… he wasn't sure he could stop
touching her.
She didn't seem to mind his
predicament.
"Music-" she broke
off as he traced her nipples with a single fingertip on each, making light
circles around the hardened flesh poking through the thin fabric.
"What about it?"
"It's from that scene.
It's his final – Oh, sweet Jesus – dance. His death."
Tristan rewarded her once
more by rolling her nipples between his fingers.
Her head fell back against
his shoulder.
"Giselle doesn't save
him?" he asked, barely about to force the words out. He was hard as a rock,
and dying to bend her over the little table and plunge his cock into her until
she shattered around him.
Trying to remind himself
that she needed a break didn't help much.
"No." Lillian
moaned again when he sucked the pulse point in her throat, biting and then
soothing it with his tongue exactly like he had so many times before.
"Keep going,
Lillian," he murmured, kissing a trail across her shoulder.
"She doesn't save him.
Her ghost is with the Duke when Hilarion enters the glade, so she doesn't even
know he's there. No one knows if she would have saved him had she been able to
do so. His jealousy was the catalyst for her greatest pain, and the Duke's
greatest loss. But she saves the Duke despite his deception, because her love
for him transcended even death and her new position as a Wilis. She never got
that- Oh God, Tristan. Please…."
Tristan smiled, triumphant,
when her concentration shattered, her body going limp against him just as he'd
wanted. She arched into his eager hands, pressing her ass into his cock.
"Close your eyes,
beautiful," he whispered and set to work on her leotard, peeling it down
her arms until her breasts spilled free of the restricting material.
Her eyes fluttered closed as
the music reached a fevered pitch around them, swelling and receding as,
presumably, Hilarion's forced dance swept him closer and closer to death.
Tristan pulled Lillian back
against him and shifted until his hips cradled hers on either side.
He snaked one hand around
her waist to guide her as the other rose to tease at her breasts again. Her
head rolled against his shoulder, a moan breaking from her lips, as he began to
rock her body side to side with his own in a dance as shattering as Hilarion's,
but for an entirely different reason.
Death awaited that jealous
fool.
Ecstasy awaited Lillian.
* * * * *
I shared this on Facebook last night, but wanted to share it here, too. This is Hilarion's dace from Giselle (performed by Kazuo Kimura and the Tokyo Ballet) referenced in this scene. It's one of my favorite performances. If you ever get the opportunity to attend a performance of Giselle, go!
xoxo,
Ayden
FALL– The Ragnarök Prophesies: Book Two is now available at Amazon,
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