Portia Da Costa - purveyor of erotic romance and erotica to the discerning woman since 1994

THE ACCIDENTAL MISTRESS [Accidental Trilogy Book #2]

The Accidental Mistress - click for big versionBlurb

Having met under unusual circumstances when he first mistook her for a high class call-girl, Lizzie Aitchison is now enjoying a passionate relationship with brooding multi-millionaire, John Smith.

However, haunted by the demons of a past he won't talk about, John seems unable to offer her more than a no-strings-attached affair. Generous to a fault, he still holds his secrets close.

Can Lizzie pierce his emotional armour, or will she never be anything more than a rich man's mistress?

Black Lace Books

Print :: Amazon.co.uk :: Amazon.com :: Waterstones :: W H Smith

Digital :: Amazon.co.uk :: Amazon.com :: Kobo :: Nook :: iBooks


He missed her. She was only in the bathroom, yet he missed her. The sensation was so intense it almost made him dizzy.

Oh Lizzie, what have you done to me? I haven’t felt like this for years, and I’m not sure I wanted to feel like this when I did… Yet still, I can’t turn away. I can’t not want you as much as I do.

The tea in the pot was long cold, but he would have loved a cup. Anything to settle him, and be normal with, so he could get out of this hyped up state and think straight. He took a bottle of water from the mini fridge and sipped slowly. It was fresh and pure and cool… and goddammit, that only reminded him of her.

Fresh and young, cool and composed… and still pure even when at her most carnal.

When he’d received that email from Brent Westhead, the one that seemed to clarify the younger man’s relationship with Lizzie, John’s heart had sung. And even while such an out of control state alarmed him, he’d still exulted, knowing she was missing him as much as he was missing her. With barely a moment’s hesitation, he’d rearranged his schedule as best he could. Then, he’d flung some clothes in a bag, fired up the Bentley, and just set off North. He hated to think how many anxious voicemails, texts, and emails would be waiting for him when he turned on his phone again, and he’d specifically asked the staff here not to forward any messages to him, while he was in residence.

He had a huge, unavoidable meeting in New York in a couple of days time, and no desire whatsoever to be there. All he wanted was to be here: looking at Lizzie, talking to Lizzie, touching and kissing and fucking her.

And spanking her too. Oh hell, yes… how he’d missed that. Not once in his years of exploring BDSM, had it ever been the way it was with her. With Lizzie, even the simplest and most playful games had moment, and significance.

Was it wrong to feel like this? This driving urge to possess her utterly, and make her his, even knowing his own shortcomings? The need was so strong, he feared he might crush her with it, and that must not happen. He needed to keep control of himself, and take things slowly with her, for her sake.

It’s not all about you, man. You mustn’t overwhelm her and you mustn’t just fuck the living daylights out of her because you’ve got the horn all the time. Don’t be a pig, John Smith, behave like a gentleman, even if you’ve never believed you are one.

And yet, the lust was there. He wanted her now. His cock was hard beneath his robe. Again. Still…

Striding to the window, he opened it, breathed in the fresh air from the garden. There were techniques he’d learned, to regain control of himself, and to calm fears and urges, and he tried them now.

The effect was minimal.

But he would not, should not, exhaust Lizzie with his demands. It wasn’t all about sex, sex, sex… and he must not make her feel that she was all she was to him. He’d told her he didn’t do hearts and flowers, and he knew she was too smart to expect that, but still, he ought to try, at least a bit.

And he was capable of some of the trappings of romance. He turned towards the bags and boxes he’d retrieved from the wardrobe. The booty that was the only other thing he’d paused to stow in the Bentley on his departure.

These were the gifts he’d so carefully selected for her. Not the little fun items he’d sent to her at home, but the other ones. The treasures he’d been choosing for her in a sort of irrational dream. Lovely things he’d lavish on her if she were ever to become his girlfriend, his mistress… or whatever it was she was to him. A status that was far more than girlfriend or mistress, but much, much less than she deserved.

Eyeing the packages, he smiled. She’d resist, of course. He still remembered the almost pitched battles he’d had with her over money, when they’d still been doing their call girl and client dance, only a month ago. Lizzie wasn’t materialistic. Not like certain other women he’d known.

But she deserved good things. All good things. Everything he could give her.

John smoothed the shiny paper of one of the carrier bags, straightening the tiniest of creases that marred its perfection.

He was a persuasive man, and he’d use all the charms he had at his disposal to coax her into accepting these… even if he knew that it was something else, something far less tangible, yet far more significant that he wished to God that he might have been capable of offering.

© 2012 Portia Da Costa and Black Lace Books

Find another teaser snippet here!

Print :: Amazon.co.uk :: Amazon.com :: Waterstones :: W H Smith

Digital :: Amazon.co.uk :: Amazon.com :: Kobo :: Nook :: iBooks

Lizzie and John's love story began in THE ACCIDENTAL CALL GIRL and continues in THE ACCIDENTAL BRIDE.

The Accidental Call Girl - click for info

The Accidental Bride