That’s what New York art promoter Sloan Benton sees the day she discovers the talent of sculptor Dallen O’Neal. Dallen’s outrageous style gives Sloan a burning desire to learn more about him and the secret medium he’s using. He’s the sexiest, hottest, most dominant man she’s ever met and the best new talent in town, but she realizes too late that he’s also a painful, forgotten memory from her past.
Dallen O’Neal wants revenge. Sloan Benton crushed his artistic spirit. He couldn’t sculpt anything for years after her cruelty, but his desire for her never waned. When she accepts the invitation to view his work, then his challenge to strip naked for art’s sake, he discovers Sloan’s submissive side. They share wild sex and explore Sloan’s penchant for spankings. Sloan captures his heart, but he thrusts her aside, intent on vengeance.
Jealousy, sex, submission and a hint of exhibitionism mingle together, making Dallen’s need for Sloan…
White-hot and hard.
Anari Fury—daughter, sister, fiancée. Life on Sa-Ro Five is good…until a ruthless pirate spies her. Refusing his advances sets in motion a chain of events that will change her life forever.
Taken from the only home she’s known, Anari is sold as a sex slave. But she possesses a secret that puts her at even greater risk than that posed by the man who uncovers desires she never suspected—a frightening man with opaque gray eyes and a past that could get them both killed.
Duncan Storm is an AWOL super soldier. Conscience drove him from the IMF. Necessity drove him to Bounty Hunters, Inc. But Duncan’s skills are no match for the woman destined to teach him the one thing he’s never known…love.
Together, Duncan and Anari must fight to regain control of a technology capable of providing a better life for millions, or destroying entire worlds. Along the way, both will learn what it means to give their all for the love of another.
Lola Lamont leaves Vegas with two pals, never imagining they’d break down in small-town Texas. So what’s a former showgirl to do when she runs smack dab into the hottest sheriff south of the Mason Dixon line? Why, jump his bones, of course!
Sam Campbell takes one look at the Vegas Bombshell and knows damn good and well she belongs in his bed. She probably has the words gold digger tattooed to her ass but he’s ready to take what the sexy blonde has to offer. Vowing to protect his heart, Sam rocks her world. Too bad she’s rocking his right back. Sam is more than ready to handle some sass, spunk and sex, but is he willing to gamble on love?
Older widow Delia Barnes is sporting a black eye when she greets fellow authors before an erotic romance convention, which she explains away by joking “I didn’t say ‘Yes Master’ quick enough.” Sitting at the bar, burned-out ad executive and former Dom Kurt Reinhardt overhears the remark—and interrupts to suggest maybe she needs “a new Master”.
Urged by her friends to accept the younger man’s invitation to learn some D/s basics—hey, an author needs to do her research, right?—Delia joins him to get first-hand experience at being submissive, starting with removing her panties in a corner booth. Later, she learns more than she bargained for when she spends a weekend at Kurt’s home…with his eager business partner added to the mix.
But an innocent misstep brings Delia’s world crashing down around her. Can she trust Kurt with her heart…and her life?
Reader Advisory: Delia gets some up-close-and-personal training during a delectable m/f/m ménage.
It’s been a year since her husband’s passing, and running the ranch is taking its toll on Claire Hutchins. Independent as the day is long, she concedes the need for help. She wants a foreman, an employee to run the day-to-day who can handle a woman calling the shots. Someone who won’t give her any trouble…
Who shows up at her door, first in line for the job? Jeb Carter. Ex-high-school sweetheart. Longtime rodeo star. And the one man capable of making Claire’s lust burn out of control…of making her surrender completely.
Trouble has finally come calling…and he’s as irresistible as ever.
By reading any further, you are stating that you are at least 18 years of age. If you are under the age of 18, it is necessary to exit this site.
An Excerpt From: REKINDLED
Copyright © MARI CARR, 2010
All Rights Reserved, Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.
“No. I told you, I need someone who’ll stick around, someone who understands how to run a ranch.”
“Claire, for chrissake, I grew up on a ranch. I may have rejected the lessons and the lifestyle for a while, but I’m not thick. I know how to run a ranch. And I meant what I said earlier—I’m staying. It’s time.”
She fought back the instinct to shiver at Jeb’s comments. She could read between the lines. “I’m not ready.”
“It’s been a year. I know you’re grieving your husband, but dammit, I can’t risk you moving on without me. I made the mistake of giving up on us once. I won’t do it again.”
She closed her eyes, turned away. She couldn’t face him or the memories, the years spent wondering what if. “That was a long time ago. I’ve grown up, changed.”
“I’m banking on that.”
She faced him, eyes narrowed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“When we dated in high school, you were too young, too innocent to handle what I wanted. I know that. You’re a woman now. My woman.”
“No, I’m not.”
“You’ve been mine since the day you gave me your virginity. I let you slip away once. I’ve been a patient man. Stayed away these last ten years while you lived your life with Hutchins. I didn’t make waves, didn’t interfere.”
“I’m supposed to believe you traveled with the rodeo not because you loved every minute of it, but because you were avoiding me? Bullshit.”
“I love the rodeo. And you’re right, I wasn’t suffering riding the circuit, but by God, I suffered every time I came home. Every time I saw you with Hutchins, every time I thought of him sharing your bed at night.”
“Stop.” She put her hand up, anxious to wave away his words. “You and I broke up. We were never right together. You’ve got to—”
Jeb took a step closer and this time she did move back. “We were right. It’s the timing that was wrong. That’s not a problem now.”
“I can’t give you what you want.”
He grinned, running the back of his hand along her cheek. “You’re the only woman who can give me what I want. It’s always been you, Claire.”
He bent forward, his intention to kiss her as clear as the Texas sky. “Please don’t,” she whispered when his lips were a hairsbreadth away from her.
He paused for a moment but didn’t retreat. “I’ve missed you.”
She closed her eyes and gave in. She’d missed him too. Terribly. She closed the miniscule inch left between them and offered her lips. The moment they touched his, she was transported to the first time he’d kissed her—the night of the homecoming football game. She’d been sixteen and she remembered how excited she’d been when Jeb asked her to be his date for the dance the following night. He’d kissed her beside the bonfire at the end of the game.
Her first kiss, and it was every bit as beautiful as the one he was giving her now, and she felt all those old feelings rekindled. His lips lightly grazed hers, reawakening feelings she thought had died with her husband. Soon his kiss became hungrier, hotter. She reached up, gripping his neck, making her own demands as she pulled him closer. He rasped his tongue against her lips and she opened her mouth, welcoming him in. His grip on her waist tightened and she sucked in a breath as his hands began moving upward, not stopping until he cupped her breasts.
The kiss continued as Jeb tweaked her nipples through her T-shirt. She spread her legs and began rubbing herself against his thigh. Her body was on fire. It had been so damn long since she felt the slightest spark of desire. She’d have to change her panties at the end of this interlude. She was too wet, too needy.
One of his hands left her breast, rising to grasp her ponytail. She shuddered when he pulled her head back, directing her with slight tugs on her hair, nipping her neck.
“It’s still there. Still the same,” he whispered against her skin. It had always been this way between them. One kiss and it was as if the entire world had gone up in flames. She struggled to pull away.
“No,” she whispered. He hesitated and she could sense him taking stock, trying to decide if she really meant her refusal. She battened down her hatches and pushed against his chest. “No.” Her voice was stronger this time. “This isn’t the time or place.” She glanced out into the yard, relieved none of the ranch hands had walked by and caught her making out with Jeb Carter in the doorway.
She was just so damn tired. It had weakened her resistance. Next time he tried to kiss her, she would be prepared, stronger, better able to fight him off.
“You’ve got dark circles under your eyes.” He studied her face and she knew he wasn’t discouraged by her pushing him away. If anything, giving in to his kisses had likely fueled his intentions to claim her…by any means necessary.
She shrugged. “It’s been a long month. Hell, a long year.”
He grasped her cheeks in his large palms but made no move to draw her closer. “You’re gonna hire me.”
He was relentless. She chuckled, then conceded. She needed help. “Maybe.”
The grin he offered in reply was cocky, smug, and she knew she’d lost this round. Jeb would get his way. “My duffel bag is in the car. Make room for my stuff in your closet.”
She narrowed her eyes. “You’ll stay in the foreman’s cabin and my bedroom door will be locked—every night.”
“Maybe.” He walked back to his car and she wondered what the hell she’d just unleashed.
Cursed at birth, Dion is a demon who has searched for his beloved for centuries. Upon meeting Morgan, he knows she’s the one he’s been waiting for, the one woman he can love forever, the one woman capable of helping him break the curse. However, Jistin, the curse-giver, has other ideas…
Morgan longs for a relationship and release from her solitary life aboard her yacht, The Magenta Starling. She longs for Dion—who’s not all that he appears. When he reveals his feelings for her, Morgan allows Dion to take her to his world, the realm of Thradmos. Her love for him growing even as she struggles to accept his reality, Morgan realizes she would do anything for him—including give up her life in the real world.
At a party held in celebration of Dion’s impending freedom, Morgan is snatched away by Jistin. In a final battle, Dion will fight not only for his freedom, but also that of his beloved, lest he be cursed for all eternity…and lose Morgan in the process.
An Excerpt From: MAGENTA STARLING
Copyright © NATALIE DAE, 2010
All Rights Reserved, Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.
At anchor in the deepest part of the bay, Morgan’s large yacht, The Magenta Starling, bobbed intermittently on languid evening waves. Morgan stood on deck, leaned on the prow rail and took in the lit shoreline, a pitch sky the backdrop to golden lights. The ocean crept up the beach as though unsure of its welcome, yet retreated just as slowly. Music filtered from the bars and clubs, a cacophony of mingled beats, unrecognizable as any individual tune. A carnival atmosphere raged ashore, the same as every other summer night—nothing unusual for this part of the world, where holidaymakers partied hard and spent their cash fluidly.
Morgan smiled. If only they knew what their cash could buy here.
A taxi-boat chugged toward her yacht, the tall floodlights illuminating white foam in the smaller vessel’s wake. Morgan made out two occupants—the captain and her client. He’d telephoned earlier and requested an evening appointment, but she’d been fully booked this sultry Friday. As soon as the call had ended, her cell rang again—her last evening client cancelling. She’d contemplated another night alone before a rush of abandonment gripped her. She’d contacted Dion and informed him of the free slot.
Now she released a harsh laugh at the pun. She hadn’t been filled in a long time. Unwilling to give herself to just anyone, she rebuffed any offers from clients wishing to include sex with their spankings. No. She wanted a genuine relationship, not men who visited her for what they couldn’t get at home.
Morgan sighed and ousted the dismal thoughts. Tonight she would once again play a part. The role of a woman in total control. And revel at being in Dion’s company.
The boat drew nearer, so she straightened and smoothed the front of her dress. Unusual for a client to request a little black frock that wasn’t made of rubber, but Dion always did. Still, she wasn’t complaining. Her normal attire would have been hell to work in tonight. The heat still lingered despite the cooler breeze, an almost stubborn refusal to be gone and give respite. She wiggled her toes in strappy black sandals and peered at the boat as it chugged alongside hers with a splutter-chug-burp. The captain waved and smiled, his gap-toothed grin dull in a face tanned deeply by the merciless sun. Dion stood, his back to her, hands in suit trouser pockets. The cut of his jacket appeared expensive, as did that of his blond, wavy hair, and Morgan deduced he’d had it trimmed since she last saw him.
“All right there, missus? I’ll be back at eleven then?” the captain shouted, the engine noise and burble of the ocean from its propeller muffling his words.
“Yes, thank you.” Morgan smiled, though her gaze remained on the man in his boat.
Dion turned in slow motion and revealed his profile, one she had seen in her dreams day and night since he’d first set foot on her yacht. He faced her, his skin bronzed, white shirt open at the neck. Tawny chest hairs peeked through the gap and set her heart racing.
God, I want to fuck him.
He gave a lazy smile and stooped to pick up a picnic basket, his gaze remaining on her. Excitement fluttered in her stomach and she swallowed to wet her suddenly dry throat. He walked toward the side of the taxi-boat and Morgan leaned over the rail to relieve him of the basket he held aloft. Though curious as to what lay inside, she stilled her tongue and placed the basket on deck.
Dion turned to the captain. “I will call you later. I may not be ready by eleven.”
His voice, so cultured, reminded her of olden-day gentry. The captain saluted and Morgan frowned. For all Dion knew, she had another client booked after him. But in truth his audacity heightened her desire.
Dion held the rails of her yacht ladder and Morgan stepped back as he hauled himself aboard. His aftershave wafted in the humid air and she inhaled as deeply as she dared without alerting him to what she was doing. Undertones of bergamot and lemon assailed her, images of him naked and at her mercy dancing through her mind. Her cheeks heated and her pussy grew wet. Dion eyed her, his brown eyes harboring…lust?
Morgan swallowed again and clasped her hands in front of her. The taxi-boat sped off back to shore, and she bent down and gripped the basket handle. Dion’s hand covered hers and he lifted the basket between them. Dion’s palm was warm against her fingers and Morgan stared up at him, into eyes that set her clit to throbbing, and wished, wished…
“Good evening, Morgan.”
His smile, a slight tilt of his head and a wink jellied her knees.
Damn him for making me feel like this when I can’t have him!
“Good evening, Dion. What’s in the basket?”
She began to lift the lid but his free hand pushed hers away, their fingers entwining. Heat rushed to her face and she cursed the telltale stain that would surely alert him to how she felt.
“Oh, just a few things.” He uncurled her fingers from the basket handle.
“Things?” She quirked a brow.
“Yes. Shall we?” He motioned to the steps that led below deck. “Or would you rather play outside tonight?”
Her stomach churned and excitement swirled through her. She glanced around—no other boats in sight—and said, “Oh, outside should be fine. Besides, if anyone approaches, we’ll hear their motor.”
“And if anyone watches us through a telescope, we will be none the wiser.”
Morgan stifled a gasp and Dion laughed, loud and hearty, quelling the momentary flare of panic inside her. She shoved the thought of Peeping Toms from her mind and breathed deeply, willing herself to take command. Without her tools, though, she floundered, hands by her sides.
“I’ll need to go down and get—”
“I told you,” he leaned in and whispered beside her mouth, “I’ve brought some things…in the basket.” He kissed her lower lip.
Startled, she jumped back and a high-pitched “Oh!” escaped her. Dion had never crossed the line before, had never kissed her.
Does that mean…?
“Right,” she said on a ragged sigh, heart skipping a beat, legs lust-addled. “Let’s have a look insi—”
“I rather thought we would reverse roles tonight. I want to take charge.”
Floggers and whips.
Chains and leather restraints.
Erotic rewards and punishments…oh my!
Seduced by erotic stories and the forbidden lure of Dominance and submission, Evie Sloan longs to explore the scintillating delights firsthand. While some fantasies are better left to the imagination, for the chance to visit a real BDSM club, she’s willing to take a risk.
Been there, done that, seen it all—or so jaded Dominant Niko Kovalenko thought. Evie’s arrival on the scene reawakens long-dormant passions and ramps them up to a whole new level. She’s an exciting challenge, a dangerous temptation, igniting the compulsion to posses. To collar.
Evie is no man’s submissive pet. Niko strips her bare, sheds light on all her secret desires and weaknesses, but it’s still not enough for him. To win her man, she’ll have to confront her fears and find a way to bridge the distance between them.
When Callista Hill settles in tiny Morgan’s Creek, she vows to make a better life for herself. She never figured lust and screaming-hot orgasms were part of the equation. One look at the local bar owner and she’s flooded with the need to have him in her bed. He burns her to ash with every erotic touch, bringing her sex-starved body achingly to life.
The instant dark, moody Mac Moreno claps eyes on Callie, he knows he wants her. Her lush curves turn him inside out and have his libido racing from zero to sixty in three seconds flat. Burning up the sheets with this sassy, sweet lady brings him back to life. But when her stalking ex hunts her down, will Callie run?
Not if Mac can help it.
By reading any further, you are stating that you are at least 18 years of age. If you are under the age of 18, it is necessary to exit this site.
Kat Mulligan, a tiny woman with a big personality and bigger heart, built a business and life for herself and her handicapped brother. Her focus is on the positive—and the future. The past can stay buried.
Until her estranged father suddenly reappears. She tries ignoring him, and the pain he brings with him. However, she can’t ignore his proposition—head to the Australian wilderness in search of a treasure that could change her life.
Dane Calder, her handsome would-be guide, is too irresistible for her own good and the two of them connect explosively. Kat decides to go on the search, but to keep her focused on her goal and not on her rugged guide, she insists her best friend Chay accompany them. The gay man is the perfect chaperone. Or is he?
Dane’s desire for Kat is obvious, but his feelings for her athletic, boy-next-door friend come as a surprise—to all three. None of the adventurers are prepared for the secret loves and desires unleashed beneath the azure skies of the Kakadu.
Lee still lives at home with his domineering mother, who makes it quite clear she’s anti-gay. Since Lee’s father left the marital home, Lee’s mother has punished him physically and mentally, ensuring he keeps his love for Ryan secret. One night, when Lee’s mother goes out, the two young men explore one another in Lee’s room.
After an explosive revelation, Lee leaves home, the need to sift through his past and come to terms with who he is paramount. Someone makes it clear Lee must never come back to town, frightening Lee into agreement. The only problem is, he’ll be leaving Ryan behind…
Excerpt (readers 18 years and above only):
The house stands as though abandoned when we get back, the lights out, the curtains shut tight. I slide my key into the lock and motion for Ryan to stay outside for a minute. It wouldn’t surprise me if she sat inside in the dark, waiting to see if I brought Ryan indoors. She’s done it before, but luckily Ryan heard her voice and retreated out the door, closing it quietly so she wouldn’t realise we’d been about to sneak up to my room. Only to shoot the shit, play on my Play Station, nothing untoward, but still, Mum would have suspected otherwise.
Seeing the house is clear, I call Ryan inside and, as he closes the front door, I go into the kitchen and put the washing-up liquid in the cupboard beneath the sink. I take a bottle of Coke out of the fridge—bought it earlier this morning when I got Mum’s paper from the shop—and collect two glasses from the cupboard over the cooker. Back in the hallway, I smile at Ryan, even though he can’t see it in the dark, and walk upstairs, pleased to hear his footsteps as he follows.
Wary, I push the door to my room open, expecting to find Mum sitting on my bed. I flick the light switch and blush at the state of my room, shown in all its cluttered, untidy glory under the harsh illumination of the bare ceiling bulb.
“Uh, excuse the mess,” I mutter, stepping forward to scoop up a pile of dirty clothes and shoving them into the laundry bin. I hadn’t anticipated Ryan coming in tonight; otherwise I’d have cleaned up a bit. He’s only ever seen it presentable.
“No probs,” he says, flinging himself on the bed, unfazed. He grabs the Play Station control and nods at the TV. “Boot it up, then.”
I do then take off my jacket and flop on the bed beside him, reaching to my bookshelf to get the other control. The game starts, and we spend the next hour or so battling it out, Ryan winning every time, as usual. After the best out of five, I drop the control down the side of the bed, and it clonks as it hits the floor. I lie on my back, head against the pillow, and stare at the ceiling. Ryan is close, too close, yet not close enough. His body heat warms my bare arm, and I wonder what it would be like to press my skin to his, feeling it fully, properly.
“You ever thought about leaving here?” he asks, leaning over me to put the controller on the bookshelf.
His belly touches my side, and my stomach flips over. My cock twitches, and I will it not to harden, exposing how I feel for him when he might not appreciate my erection. If he isn’t gay, if I’ve misinterpreted…shit, I’d hate to lose our friendship.
“Um, many times.” I casually lay my hands over my crotch and hope he hasn’t spotted my burgeoning cock. Shit!
“So what’s stopping you?” He moves away, settling next to me, resting on his side, face propped in his hand, elbow digging into the mattress.
“Money. Guts.” I swallow, pushing away images of what could have happened just then if I’d lifted my hand and twined my fingers in his hair. If I’d trailed my hand down his cheek, his chest, and to his groin…
“You could get a bedsit and afford it on your wages. If you did extra shifts at the pizza place you’d manage. As for having guts…one day she’ll piss you right off, and you’ll walk, no problem.”
“I s’pose. I want to get out. Get out of this town, too, if I’m honest.”
Ryan sits up, his fingers curling around my wrist. “Really?”
I stare at his hand, the contact searing, fucking great, and he releases his grip, retaking his former position. I will him to put his hand back so I can feel that rush again, but he doesn’t.
Carrie Marsh anxiously awaits her online lover of two years, pacing the station in her stylish red coat with nothing but luxurious black lingerie underneath and stilettos on her feet. Will Rob Edwards really be on the train from Scotland? Will the attraction still exist in person? Can she even stave off the first anticipation-induced orgasm before he arrives? Excitement spirals through her, for Carrie has planned a night to remember.
Rob is shy, and Carrie intends to show him how to unleash his sexy side during a series of sexual encounters. But once he arrives, she can’t wait until they get to the hotel, let alone a bed. No. They hardly make it to the first tree, where anyone could spot their antics.
One unforgettable evening of passion leads two virtual lovers to a lifetime as each other’s soul keeper.
Kyriana Price has spent nearly a year trapped at her evil day job. And she does mean evil. Her boss is a mage bent on power and lets nothing stand in the way of his quest to gain more of it. When she sees Connul Graysn wielding a flogger at a BDSM club, she formulates an escape plan that will require his considerable skills—as a mage and as a Dom. Going to another mage for help might not be the best plan, but it’s the only one she’s got, and at this point, she’s willing to try just about anything.
The last thing Connul expects when he finds an intruder in his house is that he’ll soon have her chained in his bedroom, her lovely body marked by his paddle. But she’s begging for his help—how can a gentleman refuse? As they learn to trust each other, he begins to realize that the only thing he’s not willing to do for her is let her go.
“You’ve never been bound?” he asked, picking up the straps of her tank top.
“No.” It was more of a breath than a whisper, but he seemed satisfied with her answer. She felt a soft spark against her shoulders and looked down. He’d severed the straps of her top, which were left to dangle above her breasts. Magic. He’d used magic. A tiny niggle of fear tried to work its way through her. He seemed to know and brought his warm hands back to her face, tilting her head up enough that she knew she was supposed to meet his eyes. Why did she find that so difficult? She forced herself to follow his unspoken demand.
“I will not harm you tonight. Not with magic. Not with anything else. I will bring you pain, but only as much as will pleasure you. Do you understand?”
She saw patience and assurance in his eyes, wondered what he saw in hers. Shame washed through her now—that she had come to him so unprepared, unworthy. He shouldn’t have to deal with a novice when he was used to those at the club. His fingers on her chin tightened.
“Do you understand?” he asked again.
He knew there was more, she could see it in his face, see him trying to figure it out. As long as he didn’t ask, she wouldn’t have to admit to her insecurities. He cocked his head as he studied her.
“What distressed you now?”
She wanted to look away. The feeling of easy surrender had vanished. But she had to answer him. Had to keep meeting his eyes. Not just because of the compulsion, but because she had asked for this. Asked him to help her. He deserved to have as much of her courage as she could muster.
“I’m sorry. I’m not very good at this. I don’t know what to do.”
“You don’t have to know what to do. That’s what I’m here for. You’ll do what I tell you, when I tell you. Won’t you?” His voice was hard, uncompromising.
“Then there’s nothing for you to fail at. It’s my responsibility to make sure this goes right, not yours. Your only responsibility is to tell me if I go too far.” He stepped closer, allowing his heat to envelope her. She felt moisture gather in her pussy and it got a little bit harder to draw breath.
“Let’s start over.” He pulled her chin up higher now that he was closer to her. Her neck ached a little at the strain. It felt…good.
“Do you believe that I won’t harm you, even though I have every intention of bringing you pain?”
“Yes.” She didn’t know why, and it might be foolish, but she believed him. It was the reason she was here.
He rewarded her with a small kiss to her lips. She opened for him but he drew away. She sighed.
“Do you believe that I will bring you pleasure?”
This time he smiled as he kissed her. She tried to chase his lips, but his hands kept her in position.
“Do you understand what you’re supposed to do?”
Uh oh. What was she supposed to do? Hadn’t he just told her—oh.
“Yes.” Another kiss, she wanted another kiss. A real one this time, damn it.
“Whatever you tell me to do.” She parted her lips in preparation. She would have to be fast this time.
No kiss? What was he doing to her?
“And…umm. Oh, and use my safe word if you go too far.”
“Good girl.” He met her lips with his, but it wasn’t gentle this time. He thrust his tongue into her mouth, taking what she had tried to take, giving what she needed. She whimpered when he pulled back.
“Tell me your safe word again.”
She didn’t want to, didn’t want to ever say that word again. He seemed to understand.
“Choose another word. It doesn’t need to be that one. Shouldn’t be something you don’t want to say.”
“No, it’s all right—”
His fingers tightened against her skin again, reminding her who was in charge. He wasn’t asking. He was telling.
“I, maybe…Snowball!” God, all she could come up with was her childhood cat’s name. Was he smirking at her? She narrowed her eyes at him but his face had gone expressionless again. He leaned down and gave her another quick kiss. Then he let her go, stepped back, taking his heat with him.
“If you use your safe word, I’ll stop what I’m doing so we can talk about it. Don’t be afraid to use it, it doesn’t mean I’m going to send you away.”
She managed to nod her understanding.
“You have a lovely body.”
She didn’t. Her size eight curves weren’t quite proportioned the way she’d like and—
He smacked her ass and she jumped as much as the chains would allow, which wasn’t much at all. Why she should be shocked she had no idea, but she looked at him for an explanation.
“You.” He put his hands on top of her head then ran them over her face, rubbing her eyebrows, exploring her cheekbones, tickling her ears and caressing her chin.
“Have.” Her skin tingled as his hands moved down her neck to her now heaving chest.
“A lovely.” His fingers molded to her breasts, giving a sharp, barely painful squeeze before continuing their journey.
“Body.” He reversed his hands so that his fingers led the way over the curve of her stomach to the juncture of her thighs. He folded his hands along the curve, careful not to touch the part of her that needed touching the most.
“Oh,” she managed to whisper. Her whole body shuddered at his intense look and careful caress. The desire in his words and his eyes did more to relax her than anything else he could have done. She didn’t realize how worried she’d been about the fact that by presenting herself to him, rather than having him choose her, she would have a hard time believing he wanted this, even a little bit.
She looked down at her top. He was running a finger down its center, from neck to hem. As his finger slid past, the fabric parted, splitting down the middle. It was almost like a breath of heat, but maybe she was imagining that. It didn’t take long for the whole top to fall away.
Her naked breasts were damp with sweat, her nipples somewhat swollen. He ignored them and brought his finger to her pants, performing a similar magic to remove them in less than a minute. He took a step back, observing her dressed only in plain cotton panties. It looked as if he was fighting a smile. She tried not to blush and failed. Why hadn’t she dressed up for him? She had the clothes, had been provided with the types of outfits that were supposed to entice him. Black leather, lace garters and more. Much more. It wasn’t that she didn’t like them, but she would have felt like a spy wearing them, like a fraud. So she’d come in the most Kyriana-like clothes she had.
He walked behind her, hooked a finger in the waistband and snapped the elastic against her skin. It didn’t hurt, but it startled her. She hung her head as she tried to fight off the shame and misery working their way through her.
“Just checking to see if your name was embroidered in the back.” His teasing words were spoken against her neck. She choked on her laugh as his lips moved down her neck to the top of her spine, where he bit, hard.