Intrigue Me (Tangled Pleasures)
An Erotic Romance Novel by Lacee Hightower
Publisher: Evernight Publishing
Heat Level: 4
Keywords: MF, BDSM, Contemporary, Romance, HEA
Warning: This title contains explicit sex scenes, BDSM, and anal sex
This book was definitely a challenge. Yet, nothing is worth having or doing if there's not effort, pain, and difficulty along the way. Intrigue Me not only deals with the complexity of power exchange in a complicated, but loving relationship, but also another tough subject - Down syndrome. I struggled with bringing that into the story, but decided I wanted something different and also wanted to show that these children are not only beautiful happy beings, but can also grow up to be very intelligent. The hero and heroine are both strong, independent people, but also have flaws like we all do. I personally love this story, and hope you do, as well.
His fingers probed and pushed as my muscles tightened around him. I hadn’t been touched this way in years … maybe forever, and I was so insanely turned on by his dark sexual words and harsh behavior that I couldn’t even comprehend how to answer him. Everything clenched as my body reacted with both fear and lust so strong that it made my head spin and my body reel with longing. My hands flew up into my lap, my fists balling as he caressed that one spot with a wonderfully gentle, spot-on precision. That’s when the first blistering sting of his hand on my sex sent an excruciating pain through me, worse than anything I’d ever experienced.
“My God! Jesus freaking Christ!” My whole body lifted, the breath lodging in my throat like the air had left the room. Had I died and gone to hell? Had I been doused in liquid hot fire? The agony in the sensitive flesh between my legs certainly felt that way.
Holy freaking shitballs! Am I bleeding?
“I asked you to be still, but just as I suspected, my little doll isn’t going to cooperate, is she?” He slapped the inside of my thigh, and I yelped, staggering, struggling to move. Aching to rub my legs together to ease the blazing pain. Feeling somewhere between fiery hot and chillingly cold, I wasn’t sure if I was appalled, or elated. But one thing was certain … I was turned on. Achingly so. Embarrassingly. My body was so aroused, my sex trembling with need, as a steady, hot drizzle of arousal gathered in my core. I audaciously opened my legs to him, clearly asking for more.
He leaned over and kissed me so hard that my lips felt as bruised as the rest of my body. “Do you really think a pretty fragile flower is what I’m after? Someone to make gentle love to? Whisper sensual words while eating popcorn under the stars? Tell me, Ava, does your pussy sting? Your thighs? Are you having fun yet? Do you feel intrigued?”
He seized my legs apart farther, restraining them, and adjusting them into an awkward, tight, uncomfortable position. Shit, it hurt. I couldn’t move. Then, he did the same with my arms. Ouch. Oh, shit.
“Please, Tage. That doesn’t feel good.”
“Neither does a plug up the ass. Sit still.” His hand speared through my hair again as his lips fell against my ear. “You remember your safeword?”
“Hummingbird,” I breathed, my breath lodged in my throat. My mouth was dry. My lower body ached. Everything just … hurt. My ass … my thighs … my pussy. How badly would he hurt me? Would I need medical attention afterward? Bandages? Ice packs? Heating pads? Thoughts of something, or anything up my ass, was borderline terrifying, not to say damned embarrassing. All of a sudden, this entire concept frightened the life out of me, striking me with a panic that I had only witnessed in movies, read in books. Yet, it was also pain, marks, bruises. Provocative. Electrifying. Intriguing.
“Perfect.” He released the ungodly grip on my hair and gently brushed his fingertips over the stinging sides of my scalp. “Feel better?”
“Yes,” I answered, struggling to keep from clenching my fists.
“Just yes? Seems a bit inconsiderate, kitten.” He began forcing a wad of something inside my mouth. God, no. Was he really going to gag me? Would I be able to breathe? Would I choke? Die a horrible painful death, naked, exposed, open and vulnerable? Tears bit at my eyes as I whimpered, forcing myself to breathe through my nose.
“How does it feel to be gagged with your panties, Ava?”
My panties? He was using my panties to gag me? Tears rose again as he reached behind me, lifting my hair so tightly that my stomach clenched.
“Nod your head once if you’re okay. Twice if you aren’t.”
I whimpered, nodding only the one time.
“Beautiful,” he murmured. “Now sit still.”
After what seemed like an eternity, his hand began caressing my neck and down over the swelling of my tender breasts, gently teasing my nipples, as he mumbled off Swedish words that I didn’t understand. Right as I began to relax, my back bowed, my left nipple no longer being stroked, but instead being viciously rolled and taunted between the thick pads of his fingertips. I flinched, whimpering, and he released me. I blew a relieved breath through my nose and swallowed hard. That was when the most piercing, insufferable agony I’d ever felt raked the fleshy tip of my right breast. I screamed through the gag, thrashing, as the delicate skin felt like it was being burned by the red-hot tip of a hundred flames.
Fucking hell. He’s killing me. Ruining my nipples. Motherfuck, it hurt. I swallowed hard, gagging as I did, trying to back away, but my breath catching as he beset my second nipple with the same excruciating torture device as the first. Both nipples howled in misery, the pain a paralyzing ache. Now I was sobbing, choking on my own damn panties while everything between my legs felt hot enough to catch fire. He tugged further. Grasped harder. Pushing me to the point I’d requested. To give in. Cede and surrender.
“Du har mycket vackra brost.”
A jolting breath lifted up my throat, my toes curling, the tortuous hell in my breasts beginning to slide all the way down into my clit. He leaned over, kissing my hair and gently stroking between my thighs, making my core ache harder. “It means your breasts are very beautiful. And they belong to me, Ava. Stop pulling away.”
I writhed as he tugged at the nipple clamps, the smell of my lust embarrassingly undeniable. “This is what you asked for,” he whispered against my ear.
Tears trickled down my face, while soft, muffled whimpers fell from my lips. Tage began rambling off another long line of Swedish words, then leaned over, trailing soft kisses against my neck. “Don’t fear your desires, kitten. Indulge in them. Embrace them. Surrender to them. Because they make you so perfectly you.”
My breasts felt like they were falling off, and my ankles and wrists ached with the tight restraints. But my core was wet, throbbing, and clenching. What he was doing to me was harsh and unrelenting, but there was something genuine and deep—this pain, this fulfillment happening to my body—was like an unhealed lesion that was beginning to heal.
Was this who I was? Who I’d always been? Someone seeking pain? A masochist?
He traced a long finger down my torso. “Are you ready for my cock in your ass? Are you enjoying everything? Are you enjoying the intrigue?”
Yes. I’m enjoying it. It’s the most fulfilling sexual experience of my life. But why? Am I out of my ever-loving mind?
“You’re stunning when you’re writhing under my control,” he uttered. “You’ve never looked more beautiful. Nod once if you want my cock.”
My sex throbbed like hot white fire as he slapped the sensitive area of my pubis again. My hips arched. Every single inch of my body felt pained. Holy crap, I had never felt a sensation like this. I was borderline senseless with the instant need to orgasm. I had smacked my mound before, something I’d learned from an erotic hypnosis tape, but not with this kind of intensity. It hurt. Shit, it ached all the way through my bones. Even my toes hurt. How could anyone in their sane mind like this? Why would they? Still, in some dark, taboo kind of way, I more than liked it. I craved it. I longed for it. I needed it.
Gag me. Hurt me. Love me.
“Yes! My God! I’m r—ready.” My response was jumbled beneath the gag, and I highly doubted he could understand a word of what I was saying. After what sounded like a tsk, then a soft laugh, he removed the clamps without offering a word of caution, leaving me gasping and whimpering as the sharp, godawful return of pain shot through my breasts like a million searing irons were melting the skin right off. Then, he began walking. Where to, I didn’t know. I hoped it was for a warm cloth, a heating pad, or a case of bandages for what was left of my battered nipples.
“And I think I want something to drink,” he responded, closing the door behind him and leaving me alone.
I worshiped at the altar of pain, surviving on avoidance, physical to avoid the mental, anything to forget what I’d lost. When Remi walked through the door, I felt like I’d paid my price for the passage through hell and been granted a taste of Eden. Remi was my oasis and I was going to drown myself in him.
But life takes with no remorse and everything was a mirage. The past won’t stay dead and a cruel phantom comes to destroy our happiness. The more we need each other the further apart our lives drive us. I’m torn between my perfect past and the hope of an oasis, and either choice demands I cut out part of my soul.
My lips pulled back as fire raced through my veins. I had no outlet for the rage that filled me. Rain started to fall, soaking us through instantly.
“I don’t know if I want any of that anymore,” I said.
“What? It’s who you are.”
I grabbed his shirt, shoving him into the car. “You are who I am.”
I forced his lips open with mine, kissing him. He didn’t fight me. He still belonged to me. I knew he felt it as much as I did.
I tugged at the fabric and he raised his arms so I could strip off his hastily put on shirt. I shoved his jeans down, without shame, wrapping my fingers around his cock.
He dug his nails into my arm. “Dante.”
“Shut up.” I stroked up his length, and his fingers tightened, drawing blood. It mixed with the rain and ran down my arms.
I bit and sucked at his lips and tongue. His other hand found my hip and dug in. I pulled back enough to meet his eyes. He was savage with his nails.
“Do your worst,” I said.
“You don’t want my worst.”
I grabbed his balls with my free hand and twisted, smiling down at him. He returned the gesture by grabbing my cock through my pants.
“We aren’t in the playroom. I will return all of it.”
I licked over my lips squeezing more and raising a brow. It seemed like challenge.
“Hurt me. I need it.”
Both his brows rose, and he nodded. “Are we doing this out here or are we taking it inside?” Remi unzipped my pants and dugs his nails into my cock as he freed it.
About the Author :
Gray is a cynical Chicago native, who drinks coffee all day, barely sleeps, and is a little too fashion obsessed. He writes realistic and damaged characters because everyone deserves a happily ever after.
Connect with J.R. Gray: Website | Instagram | Twitter - Personal | Twitter - Books | Facebook | Facebook Group | Tumblr | Mailing List | Amazon Author Page | Book Bub | Patreon
Check out CLOUDED HELL (Inferno Book 1)! Only $.99
A Western Romance...
When Kathleen and Carter meet, it’s intrigue at first sight, and they awaken from emotional exile. A turn of events finds her spontaneously joining him on his working ranch. Despite being really hard work, she’s blissfully happy—and the fringe benefits aren’t too shabby either.
Carter can’t believe his luck. He desperately needed a housekeeper, not that he welcomed this amazing woman into his home for that reason. He can cope with her bond with her daughter, no matter how it forces him to remember his lost young son. And he can’t give her his heart, but what he can give is surely enough.
In love with this amazing man, Kate ignores that Carter withholds, believing he’ll change, and she’s willing to wait. When she inadvertently discovers he was angling for a housekeeper all along, it knocks her blinders off.
She’s done waiting. She deserves more—and so does he.
“I think I’m good. I should probably get to bed,” she said. “What time do you get up?”
“Early. And I head out straight away. You stay in bed until you’re ready to face the day. I’ll leave you my cell number, and you text me. I’ll head back.”
“I’m an early riser too.”
“Five o’clock for me tomorrow, Kathleen.”
“Oh, maybe not. I’ll text you.”
He pulled out his cell. “What’s your number?”
With the exchange complete, he lurked in the doorway. “The bathroom is across the hall. Towels in the cabinet.”
“Great, thanks. I’ve got everything I need.”
Did she? So near and yet so far, she hovered there like a wood sprite. When she stooped to slip the strap off her shoe, then the other and stepped out of the heels, he found he’d closed the gap.
She looked up, having lost a slight difference in height, and her eyes flared green, the pupils dilating. A good night kiss, then. A peck. He reached out and with only tacit permission lowered his mouth over hers.
On a startled gasp, her lips parted, and he took advantage, yet maintained control, alert to any distress. It separated him into distinct parts that soon melded when she pressed into him, her arms wreathing around his neck.
He learned her, her taste and texture, reveling in her response, swallowing her tiny moans. When he pulled away to breathe, resting his forehead against hers, she sagged in his arms and he kept her steady.
His heart pounded in tandem with hers, and he was so hard he hurt. She shivered, and he said, “Do I need to apologize? Because it’ll be difficult.”
In a whisper, she said, “No need. I’m just sorry I’m so out of practice.”
“If you’re out of practice, I hope to kiss you when you’re at your best.”
Tipping her head back, she met his eyes before glancing away. “I don’t do this on a first date. I don’t date. Lord.”
He eased his body away from hers, regretting that he’d encroached on her personal space. She tugged him back. “But I want to. I want you. If that makes me a—”
He stopped her with a hard kiss. “Don’t. Don’t make this a bad thing.”
Her lips twitched in a tremulous smile. “I don’t want to overthink it.”
“I’ll take care of you,” he promised.
He lost his Stetson and shrugged out of his jacket, bemoaning any inability to keep a hand on her as she tugged a zipper hidden in a side seam of her dress and let it slither down the length of her body to pool at her feet.
His fingers froze on the snaps of his shirt as he took in the sight of her in scraps of pink lace and honest-to-God thigh-high stockings. With a dry mouth, he wrenched the placket apart and threw the shirt to one side, gathering her to him, nuzzling the hollow at the base of her neck and then down to the tops of her breasts.
She arched into him, and he fumbled with the clasp and freed those gorgeous mounds that tumbled into his waiting hands. Soft skin tipped with beaded nipples he desperately wanted to get his mouth on. And her sultry scent…
His belt buckle pressed into her belly, and he made one hand abandon its prize and yank open the offending metal, dealing with the button and zipper while he was at it. His cock breathed a sigh of relief—he swore it—as his mouth found its target.
“God, Carter.” She pushed into him, and he sucked harder, gently using his teeth against the tip.
Her hands found his hips and pushed his jeans down, dragging his boxer briefs with them. The sensation of her fingers on his ass made him groan, his pelvis thrusting, his cock against her center. At this rate, he’d disgrace himself.
When she sought him out, he turned with her, hobbled by his own jeans, the ignominy nearly making him smile as he held her against the wall. “Touch me, darlin’, and I’ll lose it all over your sweet hand.”
“Out of practice, too,” she teased, her hair awry and her mouth swollen. “I’m so ready, Carter.”
He worked his hand beneath her panties, staring into her eyes, soaking in the pleasure sparking there when he found her apex, full and wet. “You are.”
Still, he played at her entrance, then feathered over the knot above, making her rise on her toes and whimper. “Please.”
It took some awkward gymnastics to get a hand into his jeans’ pocket and lift his wallet, all while stroking her, but he managed it. Somehow got the condom out and open and smoothed on.
Pushing aside the fabric guarding her pussy, he bent his knees a fraction and set his cock at her opening. With a single thrust, he filled her, freezing in place as they both adjusted. She was wet but so fucking tight. She’d said she didn’t do this, didn’t date. Christ. How long had it been?
“You okay?” he rasped, willing her to open her eyes.
As if on cue, her lashes fluttered open, and he drowned in the depths behind them. Urgent need enticed him, and he responded, easing out and pushing back in. Heated, wet satin sucked at him as he powered toward orgasm, knowing it wouldn’t be long.
But he wasn’t getting there alone. Watching her for any signs, doing his best to ignore the pull at the base of his spine, he found her sweet spot and swiveled his hips to take her there. She responded by working herself against him, her breath increasing in shallow pants as she crested.
With a short cry, she tensed and clamped on him, shuddering, her head grinding against the wall. There was no resisting her, and he followed her over, emptying himself. He set his teeth on the top of her shoulder and muffled his groan, then kissed the spot reverently.
About the Author:
Allyson Young aka Peri Elizabeth Scott lives in cottage country, Manitoba, Canada where she and her husband pretend to work well together in their seasonal business.
She has always enjoyed the written word, and after reading an erotic romance, quite by mistake, decided to try her hand at penning one. That was followed by a mix of spicy (Ally) and sweet (Peribeth) romances in various genres as well as a post-apocalyptic adventure without a lick of romance by Peribeth.
A bestselling Amazon author, a hybrid, and a coauthor, as of November 2018 she has published seven series and several standalones, with others in the works.
,Spider (Hades Abyss MC)
Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Bryan Keller
Release Date: June 14, 2019
Keywords: Older Man Younger Woman, New Adult, Interracial Romance, Bikers
Hash Tags: #bikerbooks #MCromance #MayDecember #interraciallove #NewRelease #eroticbooks @HarleyW_Writer @changelingpress
I never once thought a woman nearly forty years younger than me could ever captivate me, but the more I get to know her, the more Luciana holds me spellbound. I didn’t want to fall in love, didn’t want a woman in my life… but sometimes the Fates know better than a mere mortal man, and Luciana is exactly what I need. When her father demands her return, I vow to keep her safe.
ABOUT THE BOOK:
Luciana -- All I’ve known is pain and suffering at the hands of men -- even from my father, a man who was supposed to love and protect me. I’ve survived, nothing less and nothing more. When I’m dropped off with a club of bikers, I figure it’s more of the same. I’ll do as I’m told, make sure I please them, and hope one day I’ll find a way to escape. There is only one thing that could ever break me, and I’m scared of what will happen when the club learns my secret. Will they return me to my father? Or will I be used to broker yet another deal?
It never occurred to me the President of Hades Abyss would be my salvation, or that I would fall in love with him. I never knew men could be honorable and kind. He’s all gruff and domineering, but under that rough exterior I can see the heart of gold he tries to hide.
Spider -- Assassin Casper VanHorne, Picasso of wet work and pain in my ass, has asked my club to take in two Colombian princesses. Well, he didn’t use the term princesses, but I have no doubt they’ll be spoiled little bitches. The first time I see Luciana and her sister, I think I’ve got them pegged just right -- until I look in Luciana’s eyes and see the fear she’s trying to hide. Something isn’t right. I know it deep in my gut.
I never once thought a woman nearly forty years younger than me could ever captivate me, but the more I get to know her, the more Luciana holds me spellbound. I didn’t want to fall in love, didn’t want a woman in my life… but sometimes the Fates know better than a mere mortal man, and Luciana is exactly what I need. When her father demands her return, I vow to keep her safe. No fucking way I’ll let the sick bastards who hurt her get their hands on her again. Now that she’s mine, I’ll march into hell if need be in order to keep her by my side.
Amazon (universal): http://getbook.at/SpiderHadesAbyssMC
B&N Nook: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/spider-sian-smith/1104577105?ean=2940161326343
Changeling Press (Get it June 7th): https://www.changelingpress.com/spider-hades-abyss-mc-1-b-2881
I made my way inside and went straight to the kitchen. I shook my head as I looked at the damn fancy coffeemaker Laken had insisted on giving me this past Christmas. It had taken me weeks to figure the fucking thing out. If I hadn’t been worried about hurting her feelings, I’d have stashed it and just used my simple one with an on/off switch. Who needed all the bells and whistles on a coffeemaker? Although I had to admit being able to set a timer was nice when I had a set schedule in the morning. I liked walking downstairs to a fresh pot of coffee.
I brewed a pot, then sat at the table to enjoy it. I had a feeling I might need something a lot stronger if I was going to tackle the issue of Luciana and Violeta. Had the third girl arrived at the Dixie Reapers’ compound yet? I wondered what Torch thought of all this. I could call and ask, or I could wait for Luciana and ask her myself what the fuck was going on. As fearful as Violeta seemed, and given her odd comment, it made me think things were about to go sideways with this deal.
I finished my cup and poured another. As I reclaimed my seat, Luciana came downstairs, her tread soft on the staircase. She froze in the kitchen doorway when she saw me. I waited, wondering if she’d run the other way or be brave enough to come closer. I had my answer a moment later when she came farther into the room and looked at the coffeepot with longing.
“You can have a cup. They’re in the cupboard over the coffeemaker. I don’t keep creamer, but there’s regular sugar in the canister on the counter and some milk in the fridge.”
She wordlessly walked to the coffeepot and got down a mug. She filled it, then opened the fridge and pulled out the milk, staring at it a moment. Her questioning gaze met mine. Had the kid never seen milk before? Or maybe it was the fact I had to use the watered-down shit.
“I’m an old man, darlin’. I can’t stomach whole milk anymore. Even the two percent is too rough, so I only stock one percent. If you’ll give me a list of things you need, I’ll have someone pick up a few groceries.”
She added the milk to her coffee and put the carton back in the fridge. After looking around the kitchen with confusion etched on her face, I pointed to the drawer next to the stove. She walked over and slid it open, pulling out a spoon. Luciana sat next to me and stirred her coffee.
“Guess it’s a little stressful and weird to leave your home and go somewhere new,” I said.
She just stared at her cup and didn’t say anything, but I noticed her lower lip trembled a bit.
“Your dad probably has a big mansion in Colombia. I know this place isn’t a palace, but hopefully you’ll be comfortable.”
I honestly hadn’t given a shit. Until now. The more I watched her, the more certain I became things weren’t as they seemed. That fucker! Casper hadn’t made a deal with Gomez for his own merit. He’d been trying to get these girls out of Colombia. I just didn’t know why, but I would. And soon. If shit was heading my way, I wanted to be ready.
Luciana sipped her at her coffee and still didn’t say a word. I noticed her body was tense, and her hand shook a little. The girl was scared. Was it because of being somewhere new? Leaving her only home? Or was it something else, something that would likely piss me the fuck off? I shouldn’t have offered to keep her here. Anyone else would have been a better option. Hell, the girls could have shared a room at Rocket’s place, or Luciana could have stayed with Shooter or Knox. Both were a fucking lot younger than me. Maybe she worried I’d try to take advantage? She’d likely be disgusted if I made a move on her, not that I planned on it.
“Luciana, I don’t know what you think of me, and I honestly don’t give a shit. But I can assure you that I don’t take unwilling women, so if you’re worried I’ll force myself on you while you’re here, you’d be wrong.”
She audibly swallowed, and the coffee sloshed over the rim of the mug and onto the table.
“You won’t have to force me. I know my place and what’s expected of me.”
What. The. Absolute. Fuck.
“Come again?” I asked.
She finally met my gaze and held it for longer than a few seconds. “I’ll do as you ask. Do you want me here?”
She stood and started to unfasten her pants, and it felt like my heart was about to stop. A picture was forming in my mind, and it wasn’t pretty. I reached and placed my hand over hers, halting her movement. Not fast enough that she hadn’t already started to shove her pants down her legs, and not before I saw the marks.
With a growl, I stood fast enough my chair fell over. Fury filled me as I stared at her lower belly, right above the delicate lace trim on her panties. Slowly, I reached for her and lifted the hem of her shirt a little. Enough to see not only more marks, but to notice there was a slight roundness that was too firm to be fat. I worked her jeans down her thighs and took in the roadmap of pain that was etched into her skin.
© Harley Wylde, 2019
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
When Harley is writing, her motto is the hotter the better. Off the charts sex, commanding men, and the women who can’t deny them. If you want men who talk dirty, are sexy as hell, and take what they want, then you’ve come to the right place.
You can follow Harley on Amazon, Twitter, or Facebook. Get New Release notifications (for US readers) by following Harley on BookBub!
One day she’d be his.
Almost a decade ago, Marcus Grimes worked as a bodyguard to a man who didn’t deserve the woman he’d had. When she finally left, Marcus vowed to eventually find her and make her his.
The time is now.
Marcus runs into Gabi at a BDSM club, indulging in a different partner every week but never really exploring beyond the mere superficial. She doesn’t remember him, and he convinces her to give him a chance.
All she has to do is open.
After leaving an abusive relationship, Gabi moved cities and reinvented herself. Now, she’s confident and capable of playing with any Dom she sees fit without compromising herself or her emotions.
Until she meets Marcus Grimes.
There is something familiar about him, which should have stopped her, but instead spurs her on, and before she realizes it, Marcus is not only opening her body to his exploration, he’s also delving into her heart.
However, when their mutual past comes to light and everything she’s fought for during the last eight years is jeopardized, will she close herself off again or will she give love an opportunity?
***Be Warned: BDSM, flogging, sex toys***
Marcus sipped at his soda, wishing it were something stronger so his libido would subside. Who was he kidding? Looking at her would get him aroused regardless of the amounts of alcohol he drank.
She was perfect. Everything he’d ever fantasized about: luscious curves, ample bottom, tits which would fit his hands, and a mouth made for sucking and screaming out his name.
Gabi. Her last name was of no consequence. Neither was her first name. Years ago, he’d known her as Abby. What mattered was that when he made her his, he’d refer to her as “kitten”. He’d called her it once, by accident. The term had come naturally. Back then, she had been vulnerable, small, like an abandoned pet. Now, however, he stood in the presence of a different type of cat. She was graceful, strong, seductive.
Unfortunately, unlike cats, which tended to be more snobbish when it came to choosing an owner, Gabi played with just about everyone. She was a regular at the BDSM club where he’d found her. One night, he’d see her getting a spanking, the next, a caning, and another day, she was being whipped. There didn’t seem to be anything Gabi wouldn’t try, except sticking with the same partner. She had a different Dom every weekend, playing with them at a distance, never really giving in to the experience. He knew why, and he was determined to change it. Starting tonight.
Currently, she was tied to the Saint Andrew’s cross, and Master Eric was giving her a good flogging. The Dom played her like an instrument, knowing exactly where to hit to make her skin tingle but not bruise. Marcus scowled. When they played, he’d make sure to mark her so every time she sat down, she would remember him and how her body had yielded to her Dom’s touch.
Marcus downed the last of his drink and moved closer to the cross. It’d been close to eight years since he’d last seen her. Eight years. He sometimes thought they had been wasted years, but deep down, he knew they hadn’t. After what she’d gone through, she’d needed the time to heal and become the person she was now.
In all that time, he’d never stopped wanting her. He’d been incapable of erasing her from his mind even after he’d lost track of her whereabouts. And then, fate had thrown her in his path. He’d finally decided to join the BDSM community in the city, and he’d found her. Here of all places. In his city.
One look at her and he’d made up his mind. Gabi would be his. Permanently this time. He’d bided his time, investigating her present, trying to find out more about who she was today. Every weekend for the past month, he’d come to the club and watched her. He’d leave with a hard-on and a desperate craving to claim her.
Tonight would be different. Eric was almost done, each stroke of the flogger turning into a caress until it came to a full stop. Gabi shuddered and hung her head. Marcus stiffened. Was she okay? Eric seemed to think the same because he hurried forward and whispered in her ear. Gabi nodded. Eric chuckled. Giving her ass a light tap, he began to undo the restraints.
Marcus clenched his fists. Soon, he’d be the only one spanking Gabi’s behind. He waited patiently for them to finish. His heart hammered in his chest, and sweat gathered at his nape. He hadn’t been so on edge in years.
Finally, Gabi became free and turned around. Marcus’s breath caught. She wasn’t naked, but she didn’t need to be to get his dick hardening. He focused on her mouth. Wide with plump lips. How many times had he fantasized about having them around his dick? Fucking her mouth. Marcus swallowed a groan.
Eric blocked his view, stepping in front of Gabi to give her a hug. She smiled politely, but there was no affection in her gaze. She was merely being civil. Marcus smirked. They wouldn’t end their sessions with a friendly pat. Finally, Eric left. Before Gabi could also leave, Marcus approached her. She saw him coming, her gaze narrowing and her lips parting into a coquettish smirk. He couldn’t wait to make it sincere.
“That’s me. What can I call you, handsome?”
“Marcus will do for now.”
She pouted, feigning disappointment.
“Shame, I thought you were a Dom.”
Marcus grinned. “I am.”
“And you don’t want me to call you Sir or Master? Do you prefer Daddy?” She ran her fingertips across his forearm making goosebumps sprout on his flesh. Marcus pulled away.
“If the men you’ve been playing with require you call them Sir after barely ten seconds of interaction, you’ve been hanging around the wrong people.”
She shrugged, her gaze dipping then just as quickly meeting his again.
“So, why are we having this conversation, Marcus?”
“I would like to play with you.”
Gabi quirked an eyebrow. “And you don’t want me to call you ‘Sir’?”
“Well, I’m done for today, so maybe next time,”
He grabbed her wrist. Her eyes blazed.
“In a minute, kitten.”
“Don’t call me that. I didn’t give you the right.”
“Forgive me,” Marcus apologized. “You’re right.” He stepped into her personal space, forcing her to tilt her head to look at him even though she wasn’t much shorter. “You have to understand, Gabi, I don’t want to play with you right now. I want to get to know you a bit before I make you kneel at my feet, open up that pretty little mouth of yours and stuff it with my cock until you gag.”
About Elyzabeth M. VaLey:
Eyzabeth M. VaLey is a writer of sizzling, sexy romance who firmly believes in happy ever after. From paranormal to contemporary, fantasy, or historical, she enjoys exploring her characters' darker side and writing stories about tortured heroes, strong heroines, and all that comes between them and their love.
When she's not writing, she can be found walking in the Spanish countryside with her black Lab, exploring castles, or enjoying some tapas with her friends.
Follow her at:
Hi there, and thank you for inviting me onto your blog.
I’m so excited to be able to tell you a little bit about my new release from Evernight Publishing, The Dom who said Please.
As I’m sure you all know the lovely author Doris O’Connor lost her battle with cancer earlier this year. She was like a sister to me. My husband and I are honorary grandparents to her children, and we spoke every day. Even though we lived at opposite ends of the country we got together regularly.
She always said she loved my Regencies more than anything else so I started writing this for her, when she went into hospital. Sadly she didn’t get to read the end, but I’d told her the plot and she approved.
I hope it works for you as well.
Widow Eleanor Charter knows one thing. She does not want to marry again.
Especially not to someone forceful and dominant.
So why is Theo Moncur, the Earl of Glensmoor interested in her?
As far as she is concerned any man who considers himself dominant, whether he is or not, will play no part in her life. She will be in charge of her life.
Dominant Theo doesn’t have marriage on his mind.
Having given his mistress her congé, his growing attraction toward Eleanor makes him wonder if she would fill that place.
He sees something in her, that appeals.
The lady would be a perfect submissive—not that she agrees.
However the more he gets to know her, the more he understands she is the only lady for him.
Now all he has to do is persuade Eleanor to agree.
And a wee tease:
Theo dipped his head, took her nub in his mouth, ignored her shriek and the way she clutched his head, and sucked. Before he thought she would have time to assimilate that experience, he nipped each nipple in turn, settled himself between her legs, and then draped her ankles over his shoulders. A position that would give him ease of penetration and her the ability to grip on.
“Arse not too sore?” he asked.
“What?” She sounded puzzled. “Oh no. Not at all.”
“Good.” He angled the head of his cock at the entrance to her channel and pushed inside her. A scant inch at first, before he withdrew, and she gasped.
“Is that it?”
He rejoiced in the sound of her disappointment.
“Not at all.” He repeated the movement over and over, delving deeper with each thrust until he reached the barrier of her maidenhead. “This is where it will hurt. Any pain after this is for pleasure only. I promise.” He withdrew, re-entered her slick smoothness, and thrust hard.
The barrier dissolved and Eleanor gasped. “Argh … oh.” Her voice shook. “Oh.”
Theo took his weight on his elbows, trying not to carry on. Making himself wait until she wriggled.
Was there ever a time he was willing to obey? Theo moved. Tentatively at first until she matched his pace. Then he rode her. Hard and fast until she stiffened, tightened around him, and then melted, shook, and screamed as her climax overtook her. Eleanor clutched his scalp and convulsed as he let himself go and tried to pull out.
“Oh no. Stay. Stay and show me.” Her voice was thready. It trembled but there was enough determination in it for him to realize she meant what she said.
He couldn’t have refused, even if the Prince Regent demanded it. Theo let himself go, thrust one last time, and his seed spilled into her, filling her, as he shouted his completion. It left him happy, sated, and drained. When had he ever felt like that before?
Evernight Publishing https://www.evernightpublishing.com/the-dom-who-said-please-by-raven-mcallan/
Amazon UK https://amzn.to/2MBtpSE
Buy links: books2read.com/u/3LKvlM
Danica Maslanka is a survivalist at heart, and after the way she screwed over the guys of Discord's Desire in their time of need, Trevor Arceneaux wants nothing to do with her. Except when their tour brings them to Sin City and they run into Danica once more, he can’t get the leannan sidhe off his mind.
She’s in dire straits, hunted by the same man who enslaved Trevor for most of his life. He doesn’t trust her for a heartbeat, but he also can’t turn away someone in such a similar circumstance as his own. As their path leads them closer to a confrontation against his former owner, Trevor's loathing for Danica strips away until he finds himself falling for the tough, independent woman. Danica betrayed them once, but as something real blossoms between them, if she backstabs them this time, his trust will be shattered for good.
The moment he turned the corner, Trevor froze.
She sat at the bar wielding an appletini like a weapon, and the trim black dress she wore clung to her lithe form like it’d been painted on. The neon blue scarf around her neck and matching heels fit her style to a T, accenting glossy chestnut locks pulled into a chignon and sharp, inquisitive eyes that sliced like a knife. The leannan sidhe’s pointed ears and elfin features were the only tip offs of her fae heritage, since she could blend even without the glamour veil that kept humans unaware of their kind.
The sight of Danica Maslanka delivered a one-two punch to the stomach, the reminder of the smoking ruin way things left off between them.
Trevor lifted the gin and tonic as he approached. “So, let me guess, poisoned?”
Her plum lips quirked in a pert grin. When they’d first met, he’d found her stunning, but nothing painted someone in shades of ugly like betrayal. “Like I’d be so classless to offer a poisoned drink. I was looking for a way to chat one-on-one, and I figured if I sent an email, you’d ignore it.”
“You’d be right.” Trevor took a seat beside her. He did trust that she hadn’t poisoned the drink—the woman wasn’t a killer, she just possessed no ounce of moral fortitude. Like he should’ve expected more from one of his kind. When Ky’s brother Larsen Blackmore targeted the band, sending mercenaries after them six months ago, Danica had showed up with a similar vendetta and they’d joined forces.
Until Ky got kidnapped and Danica ditched. She had Larsen in her sights and nailing him to a cross meant more than saving their lead singer. The last time they heard from her, she hung up on Liz while Ky was the worst sort of screwed. Trevor’s blood heated all over again, and he took a sip of the gin and tonic to cool his nerves.
He met her eyes, not betraying an ounce of the bitterness. “What’s so important you needed to stalk me all the way to Vegas. Not a close drive from San Fran.”
Danica glanced away, her gaze flickering to the columns behind the bar. “San Francisco and I are on the outs. Besides, my staff has always been urging me to take a vacation, so I figured now would be a fantastic time.”
“Wouldn’t Los Angeles be better real estate for your talents?” Trevor asked. If she wanted to play around, he’d indulge. After all, whatever reason brought her to him couldn’t have been a good one. “There’s more glitz than talent around here.” A leannan sidhe like her fed from artists in the same way Ky and Renn siphoned energy from sex and passion. He just leeched off of the crowds’ energy, so playing shows offered the perfect medium.
“And miss out on the chance to grab a drink with legendary guitarist Trevor Arceneaux? Never.” She placed a hand to her chest in mock surprise, the sarcasm fluid as a stream mid-storm. He had to give her credit for thoroughness—he kept his last name off the internet, so she must’ve gone an alternate route to obtain the information.
Trevor took a sip from his drink, the coolness gliding down his throat like relief. Not like he’d reached some state of calm. If anything, Danica’s presence hotwired his emergency alarms to constant alert. The woman didn’t act without motivation and ultimately placed her agenda above all else.
“How’s your sister doing?” he asked. Two could tango along the knife’s edge.
Danica’s gaze sharpened, if possible. The heartless woman had her weaknesses, no matter how she tried to downplay or hide them. After all—she had never been the one with a personal vendetta against Larsen. Everything she’d done was for the sake of her sister.
“She’d be better if she could get a seat at one of your shows,” Danica responded, trilling sweet as a sparrow. “A little birdie told me your show at the Joint tomorrow night is already sold out. When did you boys go from garage band blues to Rolling Stones?”
Avoidance of the highest order—that had been Danica’s game from the moment they met her. Too bad for her he’d played the game for as long as he could remember. Whatever roundabouts she took, he’d follow, until he managed to suss out her motivations for tracking him here.
“The bar’s set for sleazy in Vegas, and that’s the reputation we’ve cultivated for ourselves.” Trevor took another sip from his drink, the icy gin trickling down his throat. Not like the liquor did anything to sate the thread of exhaustion pulling tighter in him each passing day, ready to snap at any moment.
Danica’s eyes narrowed. She stared past him, and the back of his neck prickled.
“We’re being watched,” she murmured, her lips barely moving. She placed her appletini on the bar.
Driven by Dragonblood
Blood Born Series 3
By Lynn Burke
Publisher: Evernight Publishing
#MMF, #Shifters, #Dragons, #BDSM, #Bisexual, #Menage, #Contemporary, #Romance, #HEA
*WARNING: This title contains explicit sexual scenes, BDSM, and anal sex.
More dragonblood than human, Primrose Cadet yearns to find her fated mates and ease the loneliness of her secluded life. But with her beta behind psychiatric bars and the other denying his beastly nature—and hers—she’ll have to fight for them, even if it means exposing her heritage.
A manipulative voice in his head promising he can fly landed Jaxon Denham in the psych ward. Eighteen and legally allowed to finally leave his parent’s enforced prison, he searches out the golden goddess of his dreams, the one the voice within claims will give them the release they crave.
Doctor Patrick Macaire fought his inner darkness for thirty-four years, living a life of self-control and discipline to prove his sanity. When a barely legal boy and seductive siren threaten the foundation of his calm existence, he’s driven to battle the voice inside and remain untouched.
But fate is clever, and Patrick’s relentless mates won’t allow him peace, catching him up in unhuman-like passion that threatens his self-identity. Will he accept he’s an alpha dragonblood born to dominate his mates, or will his human side keep the three from fulfilling their destiny?
Evernight Publishing 25% SALE: https://www.evernightpublishing.com/driven-by-dragonblood-by-lynn-burke/
Amazon Universal: http://mybook.to/DRIVENBYDRAGONBLOOD
The second night I’d stood cloaked outside Lockwood’s eastern wing, the need to be impulsive, something I’d never dealt with before, fought my better judgment. Regardless of my beta’s mental state, I had wanted to sneak into his room and allow him to have his way with me, claim me like my inner dragon longed for.
Luckily, my ancestors had kept informative records in the cavern’s library of my sheltered upbringing, so I understood all the possible sexual positions—and means of giving pain for pleasure—as most alpha blood born were known for. Unfortunately, I had no personal knowledge of such things, and my dragon was determined to undermine my will to wait for his freedom.
My fingers ached from grasping the chain-link fence to keep my human form in place. The energy linking me to the window strengthened and pulled taut as a shadow moved into view. Even with my dragon sight, I couldn’t make out the color of his hair or eyes, but as he turned his head side to side as though seeking out where the energy attaching us came from, I took note of a strong nose and full lips, a square jaw I wanted to lick and nip with my teeth as he thrust into me.
Arousal, hot and wet, rose between my thighs, same as the previous night, and I bit my lips, my dragon’s needy growl rumbling in my chest as my beta locked his gaze on where I stood, cloaked by a dragonblood gift and darkness.
My human form wanted, too, and I swallowed as my dragon attempted to take over in a burst of golden light I quickly squashed. “Soon,” I promised with a whisper.
Through the tall, barred windows, I realized my beta’s hand moved over his body, the heat in the energy linking us rising. Did he touch himself? He propped his forehead on the window, shoulder hunched as though in pain, and again, I fought the need to shift, tear through the fence and walls to free my beta mate.
His form stiffened, and head tipped back, and the most luscious race of tingles swept through me, settling in my core.
Lower lip between my teeth, I released one hand from its hold and slid my fingertips down over the front of my leggings where I throbbed. I gasped as the feather touch grazed the hardened nub at the top of my slit, and I rubbed back up over it, my hips bucking on their own as though he thrust into me, burying against my womb.
Heat exploded like a blinding light through the energy between us, capturing my human form and my inner dragon in a euphoric race to the stars. I cried out, unable to keep my lips sealed as wave after wave rippled through my body, pulsing my pussy where his hard length ought to be.
I gasped for breath, my stare on the window as he slowly moved away from sight seconds later. Wetness coated my leggings, the sweet scent of my cum rising to fill my nose.
My dragon whimpered with the need for more, for our beta’s physical touch, but I tore myself away from the fence and focused on the motel’s room where I would plan my silent, cloaked assault on the mental hospital where one of my mates remained locked inside.
I would free him come morning—or die trying to.
ABOUT LYNN BURKE:
Lynn Burke is a full time mother, voracious gardener, and scribbler of spicy romance stories. A country bumpkin turned Bay Stater, she enjoys her chowdah and Dunkin Donuts when not trying to escape the reality of city life.
Through Roscoe’s Eyes
What people are saying about Through Roscoe’s Eyes:
“Kory Steed's new book, Through Roscoe's Eyes, is a tear-jerker with a very happy ending. If you love your pets, you'll love this novel, because I think the animals stole the show in it.”
“You don't want to miss this bestseller.”
“Check out this great title from this gifted author!”
When Reggie sets out to continue his mother’s mission to feed the homeless, he never anticipated how much a chance encounter with an injured man, his small, gaunt dog, Roscoe, and sick, young cat, Cinders, would change the course of his life. With a winter storm approaching, Reggie makes a snap decision and brings the wary trio to his estate home to be cared for and nursed back to health.
Reggie learns the man’s name is Calvin, he was a quartermaster in the army, and he was dishonorably discharged prior to the repeal of “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell”. Taking pity on the man and in need of someone to help him run his mother’s foundation, Reggie offers Calvin a job. With few prospects in sight to find shelter for his small family during the peak of winter, Calvin reluctantly accepts Reggie’s offer on a trial basis, but it is only one of many trials both men will face.
Eventually, yearnings Reggie and Calvin had buried deep inside begin to fan the nearly extinguished embers of passion in both men. With Calvin drawing emotional support from Roscoe and Cinders, and Reggie discovering an ally in his beloved housekeeper, both men explore their newfound attraction, edging them toward the precipice of an ecstasy neither could have imagined.
Will the discovery of a past connection between the two men’s families be enough to bring them together? Or will sinister, outside forces and an unexpected loss of life shatter the bonds between both families and both men for good?
Reggie nodded and smiled as he closed the door behind them and then led Calvin to the foot of his bed. Placing both of his hands behind Calvin’s neck, he pulled him in and tenderly kissed his mouth. His hands slid down until he reached the top of Calvin’s shirt. He drew the shirttails from his pants and began to unbutton it.
“You’ll go slow, right?” Calvin asked as he pulled away, breaking the kiss.
“Whatever you want, Calvin. We don’t have to push this. We can just talk if you like.”
Calvin’s eyes began to twinkle. “Hell no,” he said, seductively. “The time fer talkin’s over. I want the full treatment.” Then his face turned impish. “If you please, sir.”
Reggie laughed out loud. “Well you certainly don’t have any difficulty making your wishes known.”
“That ain’t never been one of my problems. I said it, ‘coz, well, you know, I ain’t had it in a while.”
“I’ll be very gentle,” Reggie assured him, “It’s been a while for me as well, but you have had sex before, anal sex I mean, right?
“Oh, hell yeah, but it’s been more ’n a couple o’ years. Things likely t’ have un-stretched if’n ya know what I means.”
“I do, and I hope you’ll not be the only one to be re-stretched tonight, if you know what I mean.”
“I’ll do my best.” Calvin reached for Reggie’s shirt, but Reggie stopped him when he cupped his chin with his right hand and drew him toward him by the shoulder with his left. Calvin’s arms fell to his sides as a moan escaped his mouth when Reggie ran his tongue up his neck and ended behind his ear.
“God, you smell good,” Reggie whispered. “You taste even better, but there’s something I’ve wanted to taste even more for days now.” Reggie dropped to his knees and frantically yanked at Calvin’s belt. He undid the top button, and slid down the fly of his pants, then pulled them to the floor in one fell swoop. Immediately his mouth was upon the thick, seven-inch, hard shaft, drawing it into his mouth through the boxers’ fabric.
As Calvin’s legs began to tremble, he grasped Reggie’s head, steadying himself. “You’re gonna make me buckle over if’n you keep that up.”
“Mmm,” Reggie moaned.
When he slipped the mushroomed head through the boxers’ fly and sucked down the liquid-gold pre-cum oozing from the tip, Calvin grunted. “Damn, boy, you know what to do with a mouth!”
Spurred on by Calvin’s words, Reggie began to bob his head up and down, sucking extra hard as his lips passed over the head’s flange. He drew the shaft in further until his face bounced off Calvin’s belly when it reached the back of his throat.
Calvin could feel himself being brought closer and closer to the edge of orgasm as his prostate began to shudder. “No, Reggie! Wait! Please slow down.” He began to pant. “I want the first … first time I come … come with you to be … to be with you inside me.”
“So good … you taste so good,” Reggie moaned between breaths, not slowing down in the least.
“Reggie!” Calvin cried out as he stumbled forward.
As he fell toward the floor, Reggie’s grip was broken as Calvin caught himself against the footboard of the bed. “Damn, boy, I nearly came. You got yourself one hell of an appetite there!”
“And then some,” Reggie said, with a leer.
Calvin sat down on the floor and held his hands out in front of him. “Please, can we slow this down a smidge? We got all night.”
“Yeah, we do,” Reggie answered with lust in his voice. “And I’m planning to dine on you several times before morning.”
“Then let’s do this right.” How ‘bout a shower, or a bath first?”
“Even better. Then we’ll be all slick and slippery.”
“This here’s a different side of you I ain’t never seen, fer sure. I think I like it, Reggie, but it’s gonna take some gettin’ used t’.”
“Sorry,” Reggie said anxiously. “I’m just so worked up right now. I can’t believe this is really happening, not to me, not now, and I don’t want it to slip by.”
Calvin caressed Reggie’s face. “Me neither.”
“I was so sure I wasn’t going to let it happen. I was determined to not allow my desire for you to ruin the friendship that began to develop between us. And besides, you’re my employee.”
Calvin leaned forward and reached out to caress Reggie’s face. “I ain’t makin’ light of it, but I sure am glad you decided otherwise, ‘coz I’m gonna need help with this,” he said as he gazed into Reggie’s eyes and drew his hand to his pulsating shaft. Then he lowered his eyes to Reggie’s groin. “And I think you’re gonna need help, too.”
Calvin pushed Reggie back up and rose to his knees as he began to unfasten Reggie’s pants. As the belt came free, and Reggie helped to shimmy them and his briefs down, his eight inches of manhood sprang free. It was so thick, Calvin’s fingertips barely met when he wrapped his hand around it. So engorged with blood, its purpled veins contorted and seethed, begging for release, as the shaft swelled and bounced with each heartbeat.
Reggie moaned as Calvin caressed its length with his fingertips. “There’s only one thing that will relieve it, Calvin.”
“I know.” Calvin answered as he licked his lips and leaned forward. “And I’m gonna help you out with that right now, as best I can.”
The moment he pressed his lips to the swollen, purpled head, Calvin began to suck greedily, drawing in the briny nectar that oozed through the slit at the tip. He licked his thumb and index finger and formed them into a ring, then wrapped them around the sensitive spot behind the ridge, extending the pressure his lips exerted and gently milked back and forth across the sensitive glans. As saliva slid down the shaft, it lubricated his grip even more, sending shivers up Reggie’s spine.
“Oh, fuck!” Reggie cried out. “Oh, fuck, just like that. Yeah, baby, just like that!”
“So good … tastes so good,” Calvin moaned in response. “Gawd, it’s been so long … so damn long.”
Reggie began to slowly thrust his hips forward, advancing his cock until it pushed through Calvin’s stretched lips. He continued to thrust until it reached the back of Calvin’s mouth, nearly dislocating his jaw with its girth. Calvin gagged and his eyes watered, but he pressed on and swallowed as the head passed his tonsils, drawing the tip down his throat. Reggie shuddered as pleasure waves spread from his loins and out through his body when the thickened saliva that formed at the back of Calvin’s throat slicked the path his cock followed. “Baby, you’re bringing me close. You’re going to make me come.”
Calvin slid off his cock, choking as it left his throat. “Ain’t that the idea?” he said after wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
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By: Beth D. Carter
Publisher: Evernight Publishing
The Art of a Kiss
One of the things I have to do as a writer of erotica romance is describe the art of a kiss. After all, a kiss is everything. It brings two people close together. It conveys emotions through lips. It can be punishing or accepting. And above all, it has to be believable. The dictionary defines a kiss as to join lips in respect, affection, love, passion. There is a Chinese Proverb that says “kissing is like drinking salted water, you drink and your thirst increases”. After all, a first kiss represents the spark of love, the hope of the future, quivers in the belly, and tingly sensations all over the body.
It should be easy, right? Writing a kiss should be the easiest thing in the world for someone like me. But capturing the beautiful act of kissing can be extremely difficult to describe. A written kiss has to be just the right blend of romantic and Oh la la! with no hint of being wet, sloppy or smacking (as I’m sure we’ve all experienced at least once in our lifetime!)
Also, writing such a monumental step as a kiss in the love story of two people has to be stimulating for the reader. It’s my job to not only write a believable love scene, but to bring that love scene to life. So sometimes dragging out that first prolonged moment can be sweet torture.
In “Invincible”, my hero and heroine haven’t seen each other in twenty-two years. He’s ready to kiss and make up, while she is hesitant. There’s a lot of unsaid emotion between them. So when he goes in for the kiss, she turns her head and his lips land on her cheek. It’s a bittersweet moment for both of them.
So how does a writer write a kiss? We close our eyes and jump back to that first moment, when we experienced that soul shattering kiss that changed us forever. We write them from our heart, from our hopes and wishes, we draw them out from every movie and book that turned us on. We study kisses, deconstruct them, fantasize about them. And we read…a lot!
While there are many ways to write a kiss, and many different scenarios to engage in a kiss, perhaps the most rewarding is that kiss when the happily ever after starts. Love stories start with a kiss, and though they may not end specifically with one, the reader knows that the kiss is there, waiting in our imagination when we turn the last page.
Lee Masterson is a gun for hire. He’s shut himself off to almost everything, existing with the memory of a woman he loved fiercely but had to let go for her safety. But his carefully constructed walls are shattered when a threat is made against Lidah Wilcox’s life, sending him back to Kentucky in an desperate effort to protect her.
The hole in Lidah’s heart never fully closed when Lee died, and when he suddenly resurrects from the grave, she’s overwhelmed with emotion and memories. Twenty-two years of emptiness lie between them, and she’s unprepared for the love that comes surging back to life.
Lee will do anything to protect Lidah, yet he can’t walk away for a second time. Danger brought them back together, but can they keep each other safe when it stalks them again?
He headed into the kitchen and grabbed a beer from the fridge, popping the top before making his way to the living room. The cool marble tile gave way to plush, cream colored carpet and he sank down into his comfortable, cushiony sofa before toeing off his shoes and propping his feet up on the coffee table. The sparse decoration fit his lifestyle, since he was constantly on the move. He took a long swig of beer and leaned his head back. Exhaustion descended over him and he closed his eyes. The thought of how much longer he could continue in his line of work was an abstract concept that solidified with every job completed. The simple fact was he was getting far too old for the same old shit.
“Play the tape.”
A second later, a soft voice came through his speakers. A memory from long ago that always managed to soothe him whenever weariness took root in his soul. For an infinitesimal moment, the world fell away to transport him back in time. He could still see her, the one woman he could never forget, frozen forever as a teenager who looked up at him with love in her eyes.
“Hi Lee, it’s Lidah. I was wondering if you’d like to, um, go to the Sadie Hawkins dance with me. ‘Cause, you know, girls have to ask boys. All right. No worries if you don’t want to. Um. Okay. Bye.”
Of course, he’d accepted. He had a crush on her the moment he’d laid eyes on her his first day of high school. If life had dealt him a better hand, he would have married her one day, and the thought still broke his heart.
“Lee,” Lidah the computer said, breaking into his melancholy memory. “You have a message coming through from an unknown IEP.”
Lee opened his eyes and sat up a little straighter. He placed his beer on the coffee table. “Spam?”
“No. It’s encrypted.”
“None. It is addressed to you, marked as urgent.”
Suddenly wary, he dug out his phone from his front pocket. “Send it to my cell.”
His phone beeped, and he swiped it to check the message. A black screen appeared, and a sentence rolled across it. “They say you’re invincible.”
Lee frowned. “What the hell?”
The screen went dark, only to be replaced with a picture. A photo of a woman, and although time had brought maturity and wisdom to her face, Lee recognized her immediately. Lidah! Layered red hair looking like fire in the sunlight. Kindness shining from her brown eyes. The living Lidah had developed into a beautiful woman, but just as that thought flashed through his head another message came through.
Bio & Social Media Links:
I like writing about the very ordinary girl thrust into extraordinary circumstances, so my heroines will probably never be lawyers, doctors or corporate highrollers. I try to write characters who aren't cookie cutters and push myself to write complicated situations that I have no idea how to resolve, forcing me to think outside the box. I love writing characters who are real, complex and full of flaws, heroes and heroines who find redemption through love. I love to hear from readers so I’ve made it really easy to find me on the web:
Amazon author page: http://www.amazon.com/BethD.Carter/e/B00EOTD1T0/ref=sr_ntt_srch_lnk_1?qid=1385417145&sr=8-1