Excerpt of Captivated by Susan Johnson, Bertrice Small, Tracy Kelleher, Robin Schone

Ecstasy by Bertrice Small

Kalida swallowed back the gasp of surprise welling in her throat. She was the Queen of Kava, not some virgin gazing upon a manhood for the very first time. The truth, however, was that she had never seen anything like the penis now displayed before her. It was enormous; long and thick as it lay at ease upon its ebony bed of tightly bunched curls. About her, the women warriors who guarded her were just as openmouthed with their own amazement, and not just a little envious.

"Can something that size actually function properly?" Kalida asked Zenaida. "We must have a demonstration here and now!"

"Trust me majesty it is very serviceable weapon that Dagon wields. My serving women will attest to it. They have spent the nights of our return journey, but for the last three, training this handsome young barbarian for your pleasure. Now he is yours, with my compliments."

"Berenike!" the queen called, and the captain of her guard stepped forward.

"Yes Majesty?"

"You are the largest woman in the room. Arouse him, and let us see what this prince is made of before I take him into my household," the queen commanded.

He was astounded by Kalida's order. Had she no heart? He wondered to himself. Then he realized that this was precisely the problem Zenaida had spoken about. Kalida was beautiful, and he suspected, passionate, but she was quite without feelings.

"My Queen!" The sound of his deep, musical, and very masculine voice startled them all. "Will you not let me speak, oh beauteous Queen of Kava?"

"It would appear that you are speaking," Kalida said dryly, but then she waved her hand at him, assenting to his request.

"For three nights I have rested from love's labors, oh Queen. The desire and the passion that have been building within me are for you, and you alone. I am a king's son. My love should be for a queen. For Kalida, Queen of Kava." Stepping forward, Dagon knelt, and, taking the hem of her gown between his fingers, he kissed it.

"Would you disobey me then, slave?" She demanded of him imperiously.

"Nay, oh queen. Whatever you so wish, I will obey, but fine wine should not be wasted. Captain Berenike is most lovely, and it would be an honor to he mounted by such a one, but if you truly favor me, oh queen, you will keep me for yourself as the gracious lady Zenaida hoped you would. I am born a king's son, but to be your slave will be an honor."

"His tongue is quick," Kalida noted, half amused, half intrigued. She looked curiously at the man kneeling before her. She had never known a slave with such charm, or such boldness. Men arriving in Kava were either or foolish. "I am sorry, Berenike, but perhaps I shall give him to you after he no longer amuses me. Take him to my private quarters. Later I shall see if he is indeed worth my trouble." She nudged Dagon with the tip of her sandal. "If you are not, slave, you will find yourself given over to common pleasures by the morrow."

"It will be just punishment then," he responded seriously.

"Kalida laughed. "I must teach you to speak only when spoken to, slave. Do not allow your boldness to overcome your obvious allure," she warned him. Then she turned to Zenaida. "I may thank you in the morning."

"Indeed, my queen, you will," Zenaida said with a smile

Excerpted from Bound and Determined by Susan Johnson

"Where's Pierce?" Standing on the curb outside Brookes, the marquis surveyed the unknown driver seated where his head groom should have been.

"He was taken sick, my lord."

"And Oates?"

"Driving Lady Castleton and Lady Jane, my lord."

"I hope you know your way to Woodhill," Hugh gruffly noted, disconcerted to find someone other than his personal driver at the reins.

"Yes, sir, I know the way, sir. No question o' that."

"Then get me there post haste. I'm weary to death of London," Crewe added, moving toward the carriage door held open by a small page he didn't recognize. "Are you Dalsany House?" he inquired, placing his foot on the step, his weight putting a strain on the carriage springs. His second step put him inside the carriage, and the boy's response went unnoticed, for he found himself with company as the door shut and the carriage pulled away from the curb.

Female company.

"Who the hell are you?" the marquis curtly inquired, dropping into the opposite seat, a faint frown marring the perfection of his forehead.

"I apologize for taking Pierce from you."

"Taking him where?" Leaning back against the green leather squabs, he crossed his legs and scrutinized the woman seated across from him. She was fashionably dressed in primrose China silk patterned with blue flowers. His gaze slowly traveled down her body, long-held habit still operating despite his new venture into celibacy. Her opulent bosom, slender waist, the curve of her hips garnered his approval if no longer his interest.

"Pierce's destination isn't important right now."

"Pierce can take care of himself, I'm sure," the marquis softly murmured, taking measure of the woman's unease. "You, however, have two minutes to explain your presence before I put you out."

"I'll be brief then," An underlying sultriness colored her voice. "I have a proposal I'd like to make you." She hesitated briefly, when his brows rose in silent query, she said in a rush, "I need a child."

He didn't pretend not to know what she meant. "Why come to me?"

"Because you have the reputation for being"—a blush colored her cheeks—"accommodating to women."

"Sorry. You're a day too late."

"I wouldn't be here unless my situation were critical."

"Look," the marquis gently said, "it's nothing personal. I've just decided to rusticate for a time. But there's any number of men who would be more that pleased to help you."

"Unfortunately, my husband chose you."