Hello Twelve Shades of Surrender reader,
Congratulations! You clearly have excellent taste, for you are holding in your hands one of Mills & Boonâs exclusive Twelve Shades of Surrender. Curious graduates of Fifty Shades wanted more, and we at Romance HQ rose to the challengeâ¦
Daring and seductive, with similar themes to Fifty Shades, all twelve stories promise not only scorching hot reads, but emotionally powerful romances that will stay with you long after the happy ending!
If you like what you read, why not tweet @MillsandBoonUK using #12shades. Weâre really proud of our stories and always love to know what you think.
Finally, remember there are eleven more Shades to explore! Better still, you can get 10% off your next purchase when you sign up to the Mills & Boon newsletter, go to: www.millsandboon.co.uk/12shades to claim it and see what more this series has to offerâ¦
Happy reading!
The Mills & Boon Spice team
Rain. Perpetual rain. Iâm certainly not going to miss the British weather. Iâll miss a lot of other things, but not this, not this.
I stare out of the window, down the gravel drive and out across the park of Blaystock Manor. Iâm here filling in with some temp work, while I wait to take up my dream job, my chance of a lifetime working in the Caribbean at a luxury resort as a junior manager. This gig is just cleaning and helping with renovations, donkey work really, but itâs all extra money to pay for my new tropical wardrobe.
Actually, itâs a free day today. The marquis is pretty good about that. We get plenty of time off, plenty of breaks and other perks, and despite the fact heâs strapped for cash and putting everything into this project, weâre pretty well paid for our labors. Everyone else has gone off in a minibus to visit a local monastery where they brew apple brandy and make luxury biscuits and stuff, but me, Iâve got my own diversions here.
Iâm alone in the house. Even the marquis drove off a short while ago in his decrepit gray Jag. And Iâm free to indulge my wicked secret vice.
I discovered this little sitting room a couple days ago, when I was a bit lost and searching for the Blue Salon, where I was supposed to be polishing the floor. I stumbled in here and found a room that was homely and pretty lived in, and sort of cozy. And, being irredeemably nosy, when I saw an old VCR and a bunch of tapes, I had to investigate.
Boy oh boy oh boy! What a shock I got.
And now, while the house is empty, I slip another tape into the machine and settle down in a battered old leather armchair to watch it.
Itâs a home movie. Filmed, I think, in this very room. And it stars my latest crush, the marquis himself, and a woman who must have been his girlfriend at the time. Obviously it was taped many years ago, because His Lordship had short hair then, and now itâs long, down to his shoulders.
Here he is, possibly sitting in this very chair. His knees are set wide apart and his girlfriend is facedown across them.
Heâs spanking her.
Heâs really laying it on with his long, powerful hand, and sheâs squirming and patently loving it!
And Iâm loving it too, and I donât really know why. Okay, I knew people played spanking games for sexual kicks, and Iâd sort of hinted to various boyfriends that Iâd like to try it. But itâs never happened and Iâve never really worried about that.
But now. Now Iâve seen it. I bloody well want it!
Iâm so turned on now I can barely see straight. And I certainly canât stay still in my chair. Iâm sweating and my skin feels like itâs already been spanked, all over. And between my legs, Iâm drenched, my panties sopping with intense, almost inexplicable arousal. My sex is aching, tight and hungry, as if I want to be fucked right now, but at the same time have my bottom thrashed, just like the woman in the video.
The marquis really seems to be enjoying her pleasure, even though his cool, handsome face is exquisitely impassive. Itâs an old, well-worn tape, but I can still see the mask of stern, beautiful composure that he affectsâ¦and the wicked dark twinkle in his eyes.
Itâs no good, Iâve got to play with myself. I canât help it and I canât bear it if I donât. My sex is so heavy and so tense, Iâve just got to do it.
As the woman on the screen writhes and wriggles and shrieks as His Lordshipâs hand comes down, I unzip my jeans and shuffle them down to my knees, dragging my soggy panties with them. Thereâs something wickedly lewd about sitting here with my clothes at half-mast like this, and the forbidden exposure only excites me more and makes my need to touch my body ever more urgent.
âOh Godâ¦â I murmur vaguely as I slip my fingers between my legs and find my clit. Itâs swollen and ready for my touch like a throbbing button. I flick it lightly and my vagina flutters dangerously. On the screen, the spanked girl tries to touch her own sex, wriggling her hand beneath her belly as she squirms and cries, but the marquis pauses mid-spank and gently remonstrates with her.