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Co-written with my sister and released in April 2006, Jacq’s Warlord is a full-sized, steamy read. If you like your heroes tall, dark, and built and your heroines their perfect match for strength and attitude, you’ll love this story!
From Erotic Escapades: “…if you are looking for a book full of action, adventure and lots of humor I recommend that you suspend your disbelief and find yourself drawn into the vibrantly portrayed world of JACQ’S WARLORD…”
With proportions that would make Xena weep, Jacqueline Frazier despairs of ever finding a lover she can’t intimidate. Until the day she ignores an itty-bitty warning regarding the use of a family heirloom, and finds herself swept off her feet by a knight in not so shining armor, back to the twelfth century. Forced to accept the protection and sexual attentions of the overbearing, beast of a man, Rufus of Rathburn, Jacq struggles to find her place in the past while searching for a way back to the future. In the meantime, she aids Rufus’s war cause with a little 21st century ingenuity. Nothing like shaking up the warlord with lessons in bomb-making, guerilla tactics, and the Joys of Sex.
At first unwilling, and downright ungrateful, Rufus begins to see merit in Jacq’s odd ways. Through Jacq’s eccentricities and willfulness, Rufus learns she is a woman to be reckoned with, not to mention she is a lusty handful in bed. Will his admiration of her cunning, strength and uninhibited sexuality grow into a love that breaks the barriers of time? And will their love be strong enough for Jacq to plot a different future in the past?
Rufus landed on his rear at the entrance of his tent. He saw the silvery glint of stars for a moment before he realized the flashing metal was the water ewer bouncing away. Instinct saved him a second knot on his forehead as his arm came up to deflect the next object lobbed at his head. He rolled to his knees and lunged upwards to face his angry adversary.
His breath caught. She was magnificent! Her hair was in disarray around her shoulders and her chest heaved with fury. Bright blotches of color stained her cheeks, and the determined set of her chin and narrowed eyes warned him this would not be an easy conquest.
And she had prepared well. His two war chests were stacked one on top of the other, and he saw a number of objects on the ground beside her feet—ammunition for the battle to come. The chests stood as a shield between them.
“I take it you’re upset,” he said mildly.
Her lips curled back in a feral smile, as she hefted the copper water basin in her hand.
Aware of her intent, he feinted to the left.
Jacq modified her aim before the bowl left her hand.
The copper vessel spun through the air and caught Rufus directly at his midsection. “Oomph!” He rubbed his stomach. She certainly didn’t throw like a girl. “You were placed under guard in this tent for your own protection,” he began, trying to reason her out of her present course of action. He could easily overpower her but didn’t want to cause her harm, and hoped that the physical venting would aid both their libidos.
Her left hand balanced his helmet.
“Now see here,” he protested. “I haven’t a smith with me to repair that.”
Her arm came back, and the helmet flew at his shoulder.
Instead of ducking, Rufus reached out to catch the heavy armor. While fumbling with both hands to keep the helmet from crashing to the floor, Rufus didn’t see her take advantage of his preoccupation to rearm. He felt another painful thud against his back and saw a stone roll away.
“Enough!” he roared. His patience quickly dwindled as the bruises to his skin and pride accumulated.
He leapt toward the barricade.
The tantalizing tempest circled, remaining just out of reach.
With a powerful swipe of his arm, the upper chest flew across the tent. He jumped over the remaining one only to stumble to his knees when her foot connected with his ankle. His curses blistered the air.
Then she had the nerve to laugh out loud, spinning out of reach.
Donald’s voice called to him from outside the tent, “Rufus, do you need aid?”
“Stay out of this, Donald.” He heard muffled guffaws and felt his face grow hot. He’d been tolerant long enough. “Cease, woman.” He rose to his feet expecting another impact.
Instead, she faced him with his own sword held between her two hands.
“Don’t be foolish. If you choose to use that you will not take two steps outside this tent without being cut down.”
She faced him calmly, her breath slowing as her hands moved on the pommel of the sword. Despite her bravado, her upper arms trembled with the effort of holding the weapon aloft.
“You will explain to me why you have made a shambles of my tent, and why you attacked me,” he demanded.
“You put that beast on me as a guard,” she yelled back.
He was relieved she had at last broken her silence. Her quiet determination had begun to unnerve him. “I placed Beast there for your protection.” He needed to keep her talking while his mind sought a solution to this present coil.
“That’s his name?” she asked, looking appalled, then she shook herself. “He never left me.”
Irritated she didn’t seem to appreciate his care, he gritted out, “Those were my orders.”
“You ordered him to stay with me, even when I relieved myself?” she asked, her voice rising toward the end.
Ahhh…he understood now. Her woman’s sensibilities had been offended. “His orders were to keep you in his sight at all times.”
“Well, your protection stinks. I don’t accept it any longer. You’ll provide me with a horse and weapons. I’m leaving.”
“You may leave when you tell me who you are and what you were doing on that battlefield yesterday. That is your only choice. And do not think I will let you ride out of here without escort.”
Her eyes narrowed and her hands tightened around the pommel. “Then you’d best be prepared for a battle because I don’t accept the terms under which you hold me captive.”
“Woman, did this morning not teach you a lesson?” he asked, frustration pounding at his temple. “You need my protection. Or did you enjoy cavorting naked before a company of men.”
“Augh!” At last, her anger made her careless. Lunging toward him with his sword, she managed a creditable swipe of the blade. He dodged it and stepped around the tent to keep outside her reach.
“Rufus, what is going on in there?” Donald’s worried face appeared at the opening of the tent.
Jacq turned toward the sound.
Rufus took advantage of her distraction to edge farther along the circumference of the tent. “Not now, Donald. As you can see I am busy.”
She swung back, here gaze narrowing, her hands shifting on the hilt.
Donald’s eyebrows rose as his glance fell on the woman. “Well, Rufus, I will leave you to your game. Shout, if you need assistance.”
“Go!” Rufus ordered.
Donald’s face disappeared behind the canvas, his laughter ringing out clearly in the early evening air.
Odds were, the whole camp would know in minutes that a woman held him at bay—with his own sword! “It seems, lady, we are at an impasse.”
“No, you’ll agree to my terms or I’ll run you through.” Her face appeared set, and he wondered if she truly had the courage to try.
“Donald,” he yelled.
“Yes, Rufus?” came his answer through the tent walls.
“If the woman walks out of this tent first, you will not allow her to leave this camp.”
Donald’s voice held amusement, “If that woman walks out of the tent on her own two feet, I’ll wed her myself and breed sons on her.”
Rufus’ gaze never left hers, but he allowed an eyebrow to quirk upward.
Jacq’s face reddened and her eyes betrayed a hint of moisture. “I can do this.”
“Madam, you have the advantage at the moment, but it is only because I allow it.”
“You allow it? I hold your sword.” Her voice shook along with the hands drooping under the continuous strain of holding the heavy weapon.
“You have one more chance to put my sword down and talk to me about this or I will take it from you.”
“I dare you to try—”
That was all the encouragement Rufus needed. He lunged.
Jacq stepped backward only to catch the backs of her knees on the overturned chest directly behind her. She flailed her arms outwards, choosing to lose the sword rather than risk impaling herself. The weapon thudded against the hard-packed earth. But Jacq never hit the ground.
Rufus caught her and pulled her up tightly against his chest.
Before her mind could tell her she should resist, her back was to the square wooden beam that served as the center tent pole. She was trapped once more by his overwhelming strength.
For a few moments, she struggled. Eventually, her puny attempts ceased and she conceded, slumping wearily against him. She dragged air into her lungs and forced her gaze up to meet his, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing defeat stamped on her face.
He held her easily, subduing her, and she recognized the awesome power of his muscled arms and thighs. She’d never stood a chance.
“Rufus, talk to me. It’s too quiet in there. Is all well?” Donald asked.
“Yes, I have her now.”
“Well, then I’ll go on to dinner, unless, that is, you need help…”
“No, I have everything well in hand,” he answered evenly. His gaze remained on her, his face betraying no emotion.
Jacq worried now the fire of her self-righteous anger was banked. What reprisal would he seek against her for the attack?
His breathing was even, and other than a slight flush across his cheeks, he appeared unaffected.
She wished she could say the same, but that odd combination of fear and excitement thrummed along her veins. Her breaths shortened and her body softened, yielding to his. Molten liquid dampened the juncture of her thighs, and she was helpless to stop the slight undulation of her hips.
His nostrils flared as if sensing her ripening arousal.
When he leaned ever so slightly closer, her head fell back to grant him access to her mouth. Through half-closed eyes, she watched him stare at her mouth, and she wantonly slid her tongue in a circle to wet her lips. She heard his groan a moment before his lips slammed down on hers.
For an angry kiss, it was a doozy. She learned his taste while battling for control of this joining. They parried—mouths open, tongues stabbing.
Then something happened that shifted the kiss from another battle between steel-willed adversaries to a burning need to brand and possess each other.
His palms captured her cheeks and held her captive while his mouth ate hers, his lips dragging over hers in drugging circles.
Jacq mewled and tugged at his hair, her tongue sliding against his, lapping, sucking, until they were both breathless.
When he ground his ripening cock against her lower belly she relented, widening her legs to make room for him to step between. His hands raked her skirt upward, then his knees dipped slightly, and her feet left the ground.
She wrapped her arms tightly around his neck and lifted her legs to encircle his waist. They both groaned into each other’s mouths as their bodies met with only the fabric of his braies separating their straining loins.
Held high against him, her body open to his, she rubbed her moistening pussy along his length, entering a rhythm matched by their circling mouths.
Jacq’s world narrowed to that burning juncture where Rufus rutted against her, the fabric chafing her tender flesh. Animalistic grunts and groans rose between them.
Mindless now, Jacq forgot why she shouldn’t be doing this with him. She forgot she didn’t like even him—her body adored him.
His hands cupped her buttocks and squeezed and released, over and over, encouraging her to rub frantically, up and down against his cock until clothes were too confining, and she was desperate to feel the steel of his shaft inside her.
She broke the kiss. “Please!” she gasped, even as her hips rolled again.
The muscles of his buttocks bunched beneath her heels as he straightened with her in his arms and walked the short steps to her pallet. He knelt, holding her pressed to him, and lay her down amid the furs.
She writhed against him and repeated in a long keening wail, “Please, now, Rufus.”
He rose up on his knees and dragged her bliaut over her head. Then he rent the neck opening of her borrowed shirt to the waist, shoving the ragged edges aside to expose her breasts.
Rufus leaned over her and nuzzled her breast. “Jacq,” he groaned, and his mouth opened over one straining crest. He sucked it hard into his mouth.
She nearly screamed from the pleasure. But there were still too many clothes between them. She wanted to touch skin.
As she struggled clumsily to free her arms, his mouth never stopped its ministrations, except to trade breasts. Bare now to the waist, she grabbed the hem of his surcoat and slid it upward.
He released her breast with an audible pop and he leaned away to finish pulling the coat over his head.
Jacq’s hands were already busy with the tie at the waist of his braies, but he pushed her away and stood, toeing off his boots and sliding pants and stockings off together.
Missing the contact of his flesh on hers, Jacq came to her knees. At the sight of his fully aroused sex, Jacq’s breath caught in her throat.
His cock strained upward from his groin, thick and straight. Her eyes fixed on the part of his body that had figured too frequently in her night and day dreams. She reached for him, her hand almost circling him with her long fingers. She squeezed.
Rufus groaned and his hips pulsed.
Jacq leaned forward and glided her cheek along his sex, enjoying the satiny skin that stretched taut over the hard shaft. She nuzzled him with her face, breathing in the musky scent of him, then slid her tongue along his length, painting him with the moisture of her mouth, worshiping him.
So this was passion.
“Mother of God,” Rufus moaned, and pulsed against her again. Exquisite ripples of ecstasy coursed through him.
When her mouth closed over the head of his cock, he feared he’d spend himself then and there.
Jacq took him deep inside her mouth while her hands, lubricated with the moisture of her tongue, began to twist gently around his shaft, following the ebb and flow of her hot mouth.
His fingers scraped through her hair, then tightened at her nape, tugging her mouth away. He wanted to be inside her when he came, and he was moments from release.
Her face turned upward and their gazes locked, then she stuck out her tongue and continued to tease the circumference of the plump head of his cock.
“Witch!” He felt his entire body tighten as he fought the urge to fuck her sweet mouth. “No more. I cannot wait.” He pushed her roughly away and grabbed her at the waist, flipping her onto her belly. He ignored her yelp of surprise and pressed his knees between hers.
Jacq came up on her arms and spread her knees wide apart on the furs as he knelt behind her. “Hurry,” she said her voice trembling.
“This will be no gentle taming,” he whispered in her ear as he leaned over her.
“Taming? I’m no horse, you bastard,” she retorted, but her voice quavered.
“Ah Jacq, if ever a woman needed taming…” Rufus grinned. The woman didn’t give an inch. Pushing her hair forward, he bit the nape of her neck at the same time he slid himself between her legs, nudging his cock against her moist folds.
His hands smoothed down the outside of her thighs then came up, pushing against the inside of her knees to widen them farther. He leaned back, hands now on her lush buttocks, kneading. He could see her cunt, glistening wet for him. With the tip of his cock pressed there, he dipped into her.
He felt her tense and try to push back against him to deepen the penetration, but he held her away, his hands pressing on her rump. Again and again, he pressed in and out just wetting the head of his cock with her creamy response.
Her hands clutched fistfuls of fur and her breath rasped in ragged sobs.
He leaned over her until his mouth was at her ear again and whispered, “Witch, tell me what you want.”
“You,” she responded, followed by a long loud moan as he continued to tease her with his shallow movements.
“No, tell me how you want me.”
“I want you deeper,” she gasped.
He flexed into her, one quick, deep teasing glide. “Like that?”
“No, all of you now… Please, Rufus… Now, harder!” She was nearly screaming, urgency making her voice ragged.
Rufus changed his mind about how he wanted to take her this first time. He wanted to watch her face as he pressed deep inside her. He pulled out and rolled her to her back. Her arms were already reaching for him, but instead he knelt between her legs, hooking his elbows beneath her knees to raise her buttocks off the ground.
Poised at her entrance, he waited for her to open her eyes.
Her green-eyed gaze met his for one charged moment, then slipped down his body. Her quim pulsed against his head and her back arched off the furs. “Rufus, now!”
He slammed inside her, driving all the way to the hilt.
She came. He knew she came, for she screamed long and loud, her head thrashing from side to side while he pumped in and out of her, his hard thrusts lifting her higher. The sounds of skin slapping skin and their loud panting breaths filled the tent. Her back arched again as another tremor tightened her passage, rippling along his shaft as he rode her.
Suddenly he was mindless as well, insensible to anything except the quick, rhythmic slapping. He felt his climax come from his toes, tightening his thighs, his balls, bursting from him in a flood of warmth to bathe her womb. He didn’t want it to end.
Afterward, he collapsed on top of Jacq, breathing hard against her neck, still flexing to drive inside her although he was spent. The sensation of her hot, rhythmic pulsings was too exquisite to give up.
Her breaths grew shallow beneath his weight, and he groaned.
Rufus pushed up on his arms and stared down at the beautiful woman lying beneath him, still connected to his body in the most intimate way. Her mouth was slackened, slightly blurred from his kisses, her skin dewy. Her passion belonged to him—she would not be able to deny it now.