The Cardinal’s Whores
Blackmail, betrayal, and bedroom lust are standard fare in the court of Henry the Eighth. Joan Larke has heard all her young life that this is so, but she is completely unprepared to be dragged into the midst of it. Dragged she is, though, when the beautiful girl falls into the hands of the powerful and power hungry Thomas Wolsey, cardinal, confidant, and finally lord chamberlain to the king.
Wolsey knows how many secrets are passed in the bedchamber, and shamelessly enlists any woman who comes within his influence as his spy. He turns her, under duress, into a whore who brings him information from her pillow talk with the movers and shakers of the early 16th century. But he needs love, too, and he keeps Joan to himself—for a time.
When Joan finds herself no longer wanted and in peril of spending the rest of her life in a nunnery, she turns to Lady Anne Boleyn, who is rapidly supplanting Queen Catherine in Henry’s affections. But treachery is a two-edged sword, and the betrayer often becomes the betrayed in the shadowy world of Tudor court intrigue.
Although Joan has secrets of her own she can trade, in the end, she can do nothing but watch and tremble as the cardinal and the would-be queen battle behind the scenes for the love of their king, and to keep from winding up under the axe, as so many did in those dark days.
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His touch was electric, but the thrill was tinged with fear. She was not as comely as once she was and she was afraid to undress fully in front of such a beautiful man. What would he think of her? But those kisses were so sweet, his attentions so tender. The bloom of passion kindled within her mind smothered her fear, and as his hand rose higher along her leg, she chose not to restrain him, preferring to live in the moment and leave tomorrow to look after itself.
His hand soon reached the top of her thighs, and as he caressed her there, she was pressed gently down onto the couch. She did not resist him, though she trembled every inch of the way. Yet it was a sweet fear, and her greatest fear of all was that he would stop and think better of what he was doing. But he did not stop. She sensed his need was as great as her own, and his adept fingers teased and played with her, turning her desert into a honeyed oasis, while his mouth kissed the orbs of her bosom, releasing her nipples from her corset, and sucking her so hard she thought she would cry out.
Adrienne lives in the North East, in a rural area surrounded by cows and determined rabbits. She has two cats, both masters of the contemptuous stare, who she idolizes. When she’s not penning for monies she’s either baking something, or driving very long distances for the hell of it. This renders a unique opportunity to ponder her plots and characters; she prides herself on writing the unexpected, and is always cooking up new ways to pleasure her readers. Her favorite genre is twisted history - and applies varying degrees of heat to keep you titillated from beginning to end.
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