Hi Delilah fans! I hope you all are more ready for the season than I am—I haven’t bought a single gift yet. But I’ve got a list and am starting with a gift for you.
In keeping with the season, here’s a Christmas you’ve probably never experienced. Allow me to introduce masochist Jarrod Bancroft. In this first novella, A Gift for Jarrod, we meet him as he enters Stonybrook Academy for six weeks of training in submission. Here’s an excerpt:
Several days after his session with Madam, Jarrod noticed the rhythm of the house changed. It was close to the end of his stay, and that knowledge sat in his chest like a rock. He had no idea what he wanted after this. He felt stirred up, his emotions on the surface. He almost wanted to go to the dungeon and ask for a beating so everything going on in his mind would be set aside.
Most of all, he was haunted by thoughts of Madam. Ms. Fitzgerald. A woman he’d desired since the first time he’d seen her, back when he’d been an adolescent with nothing but silly girls and masturbation to relieve the craving that came with thinking of her. A woman who could never want him. Christ, she had to be at least ten years older.
But she didn’t look that much older. She looked beautiful, her body athletic and voluptuous and… He swallowed and forced himself to think of anything else—the fire, the condensation on the window. How much longer could he stay here knowing he might never see more of her?
Damn it, he would see more of her, he decided suddenly. He wouldn’t allow this all to end without reaching some kind of agreement with her. He wouldn’t call it a relationship. But there would be ‘something.’
The girl came to help him relieve his bladder, and his breakfast arrived soon after. Then he and the other subs were scrubbed and groomed until every hair and nail shone. After lunch, massage with fragrant oils, deep enough to relieve any lingering ache, left him blissfully relaxed. His brief glances out the windows found a light snow falling on the already deep layer that banked around the evergreens and along the distant rock walls. The snow only added to his sense of pleasure.
By late afternoon, they were taken to the third floor to a large central space framed in soaring timbers and natural wood with an enormous Christmas tree standing in the center and reaching almost to the high ceiling. It glittered with multi-colored lights and a profusion of ornaments, nothing like the sedate monochromatic trees his mother preferred but instead an almost gaudy explosion of every color and shape imaginable. Quiet strains of music played in the background, some of it recognizable seasonal classics. He grinned, walking around the tree with the other subs, all of them enjoying a surprising recess from their normal discipline.
He glanced around the massive room. Wreaths hung on four glass doors that led to a snow-covered deck which overlooked the same view he saw from his bedroom. Comfortable couches and arm chairs clustered around coffee tables in conversational groupings. Red candles burned here and there, sending off a tantalizing aroma of cinnamon and spice. Flames leapt from logs in an immense fireplace at the far end of the room where a long mantle hosted a row of colorful stockings, dishes of candy canes, and more evergreen boughs. He wanted to laugh out loud.
Platters of food spread over a large table draped in white cloth and positioned near the tree: smoked meats and salmon, trays of cheeses, fondue pots with bagna cauda, creamy rarebit and a smooth Swiss mixture, platters of crisp fresh vegetables for dipping, caviar and fresh crusty loaves of dark and light bread, olives and pickles, nuts and candied dried fruits. On the end under heat lamps were a ham wreathed in pineapple glaze and a roast partially carved to reveal the succulent pink interior. Bottles of wine, sparkling crystal glasses, ornate silverware and heavy china—he’d never seen such an elaborate set-up even at his parents’ home where they prided themselves on outdoing their friends. Two or three uniformed helpers worked in an open kitchen area at the end opposite the fireplace and more delectable smells escaped from there.
Ordered to kneel along the wall near the fireplace, he and the others watched as guests began to arrive. Surprisingly, none of them wore masks. Evidently they all knew each other. They were laughing and talking, wearing exotic flowing clothes of silk and velvet, supple fitted leather, or immaculately tailored suits of the finest tweed or worsted. The stream of arrivals amused and satisfied him in a way he had never expected. No one seemed to notice that he and the other trainees were without clothing. Anticipation fired through him. He felt free.
Madam—Ms. Fitzgerald—appeared along with workers he recognized from his stay. She looked incredibly beautiful, her dark hair piled up high, her cheeks pink with excitement. She wore a navy fitted suit, its jacket fastened with one button and evidently nothing underneath. The skirt hugged her hips and thighs and ended just above the knee. At her feet were very high heels in shiny black, and a wave of emotion rolled over him so strongly he felt weak.
How had six weeks flown by so quickly? How would he live now, away from here, away from her?
She circulated among the guests. Everyone talked in excited voices, standing in energetic knots or sprawled around on the chairs and couches. They were drinking, laughing, some of them passing joints. Jarrod tried to think whether he had never seen people like these. Maybe there had been a subtle undercurrent of such things at his parents’ parties, or at college, or at the firm—but he couldn’t recollect any specific details that would have hinted at such. It made complete sense that people like this—like him—had to be in a safe place before they could let their truth show.
He watched them touch each other’s bodies in casual ways in expressions of pleasure, attraction, fondness. Some of the women’s breasts were exposed, but after what he’d experienced here for so long, the sight of nipples no longer seemed like a big deal. Most of his attention followed Ms. Fitzgerald, and more than once, she caught his stare and the air between them sparked with something almost palpable. He resisted the urge to stand up and walk to her, damn the consequences.
He and the others who had been through the same training session had remained kneeling at the side of the room. At times, he felt one or another guest’s eyes raking over him. His and the other men’s cocks remained hard most of the time now, and he accepted that with a certain amount of pride, just as he felt sure that the women trainees felt satisfaction with the moisture rimming the inner crease of their denuded pubic mounds and the enlarged clitorises peeking from those enticing slits.
There were sixteen of the trainees and the guests many times more not counting the staff. The room buzzed with conversation, laughter, the clink of glasses. The faint scent of marijuana came to his nose every so often, and he inhaled with the hope of catching a bit of the high. He tried to imagine how he and the others would be of service in what was clearly meant to be a holiday celebration. So many delicious scents roiled in the air, so many beautiful lights dazzled his eyes, and the rise and fall of familiar musical strains tugged at his emotions.
You lucky cocksucker, you’ve gone through hell and emerged on the other side.
With an order to stand, one of the staff began working his way down the line of trainees with a bowl and a brush, painting the women’s breasts and mounds, the men’s nipples and cocks with some kind of solution. The freedom to look around had emboldened Jarrod, and Carson gave a quick grin at his questioning look.
“Peppermint candy,” Carson murmured as he stroked a drippy layer over Jarrod’s cock.
The effects came soon enough, a tingling sensation at first and then a deeper burning agitation that made him long to touch and rub. The guests drifted in their direction, and soon the row of subs were under assault as mouths sucked at the liquid candy. Oohs and moans rippled through the room, and in spite of the order to stand without moving, he couldn’t avoid the roll of his hips as one after another mouth closed over his swollen cock or nibbled on his sensitized nipples. The atmosphere became charged with sexual energy.
Soon the entertaining diversion ended, though, and the guests wandered off to cluster around the food table and pour more wine. His gaze, hungry for the visual feast after so many days of blindfolds and keeping his eyes cast down, roamed over the assembly finding one after another remarkable activity that only added to his excitement. One of the men leaned back in the couch as another man unzipped his pants. He looked away, not sure if he should be looking. Intrigued, he glanced back. The man’s cock stood in the air with the other man’s tongue sliding up and down it. Absurdly, he felt nothing but jealousy and desire.
Around them, people laughed in excited conversations. Other intimacies were underway, he realized, all very casual as if part of every-day life. Wine glasses clinked, drinks rattled over ice.
Someone approached him, and he realized it was Ms. Fitzgerald. Her skin glowed in the golden light of the room, all the reflections of ornaments, candles, the fire. Her green eyes sparkled as she neared. At the lapels of her fitted jacket, he could see the curve of her breasts. His chest burned as he struggled with how to express the avalanche of feelings coursing through him, how to thank her, how to make the connection he now felt desperate to make. If he had been alone, he would have seized her arms and crushed her lips with his own.
“Jarrod,” she said, smiling, “I trust you’re feeling well today.”
A shock wave ran over him at her use of his name. Instantly he was in a too-small desk in her classroom.
“Yes, Madam,” he stammered. “Thank you.”
Ignorant wretch, say something meaningful.
“How…are you…look beautiful,” he stammered.
Her gaze glimmered and narrowed, and for an instant, he allowed himself to think that some of the desire he felt might be reciprocated. But then, she backed up a few steps and addressed all the trainees.
“Congratulations on your successful stay here at the Academy, students. You’ve been excellent trainees, and I hope what you have experienced will serve you well. And now, I trust you’ll enjoy your evening with our guests.” She smiled. “We move on to the games,” she announced. And she signaled the staff.
The male students were lined up in what turned out to be a game of tossing wreaths. The small padded wreaths, less than a foot in diameter, were tossed by the guests with the objective of landing on erect penises. A line set by a long green ribbon held the guests ten feet away from their targets, and the room dissolved into laughter and catcalls as guests took their turns. Despite careful aiming and effusive advice, the contestants often failed to land their wreathes successfully even with three permitted tries. It then became a contest of how many wreathes would collect on any male’s particular cock. Less well-endowed males suffered a disadvantage, and the weight of the padded wreathes caused the organs to droop. More than one trainee lost his collection as gravity took its toll. Ultimately the length of the cock determined how many might fit.
Jarrod shuddered with the increasing need to ejaculate as the firm, cottony circles assaulted his groin and upper thighs. His long deprivation rose like a monolithic burden no longer to be endured. Each throw of a wreath resulted in some form of physical contact, even though few of them actually caught on his cock. The laughter of so many observers only heightened his humiliation which in turn added to his arousal.
At the end though, seven of the narrow rings collected on his still-upward pointing organ as its swollen tip oozed pre-ejaculate. To much applause and dressed in fine black leather pants and an open leather vest, Carson came over to hold up Jarrod’s hand and declare him the winner. As the wreaths were removed and his loins throbbed for release, he cast his glance around the room for Madam.
By god, he wouldn’t let this night end without having her.
(More…)
Read what happens before and after this night for only 99¢ (free with Kindle Unlimited). If you like the heat and kink, you’ll love the full collection of five novellas in Jarrod Bancroft: The Novel.
Sign up for my free monthly newsletter, Liz’s Hot News, at https://eepurl.com/bHOyS9 Newsletter signup by midnight December 13 enters you in a drawing for a surprise gift package!
I don’t classify Releasing Rage and, the follow up standalone story in my cyborg series, Breathing Vapor, as BDSM. The reason for this is because there are no formal arrangements and no safewords. (The dominant cyborgs never take the kink too far. They can sense what their submissives are feeling.)
The series is also BDSM light. Rage, the hero of Releasing Rage, would never intentionally physically hurt the female he loved. He’s seen too much pain and suffering to inflict that on someone he cared about, even if she wanted this. Punishment for Vapor and Mira in Breathing Vapor never goes past a spanking. Many BDSM readers expect a larger pain element.
But the stories definitely have BDSM elements. In Releasing Rage, Joan is a natural submissive. When she’s paired with Rage, her dominant angry cyborg, she naturally falls into that role, seeking to appease him.
Joan isn’t weak. Being the sole female engineer on a battle station, she has overcome great hostility. She submits, as many people do, because it serves a need within her. Rage, in contrast, feeling out of control in other aspects of his life, needs to control their sexual experiences. This calms him. Their relationship works for them.
Vapor and Mira, in Breathing Vapor, also have a Dom/Sub relationship but it is very different. Mira is, what we would call, a bratty sub. She taunts Vapor until he punishes her (spanking is their punishment of choice). She likes the punishment because it helps her express her pent-up emotions. He likes the challenge of making her submit. Vapor is all about being ‘the best.’
I’m writing Crash and Burn, the third cyborg story, right now. Crash prefers to tie up or otherwise restrain his strong-willed heroine and she loves this. Again, they have a Dom/Sub relationship but it is very different.
Which type of Dom/Sub relationship do you enjoy reading about?
***
Breathing Vapor
Vapor is the most advanced cyborg the Humanoid Alliance has ever developed. He’s a finely honed weapon, a warrior without parallel, half man and half machine. No lock can contain him. No being can stop him. Whatever he wants, he takes.
He wants Mira Breazeal, the Designer’s daughter.
She’s his one temptation, his sexy target. Vapor shouldn’t crave her caresses, steal her kisses, make her scream with ecstasy. The cyborgs want her dead and they would question his loyalty if he didn’t kill her. The humans would shoot him on sight if he dared to touch her.
Their love is forbidden. Their desire could be lethal. One human and one cyborg will risk everything for a moment of passion.
USA Today bestselling author Cynthia Sax writes contemporary, SciFi and paranormal erotic romances. Her stories have been featured in Star Magazine, Real Time With Bill Maher, and numerous best of erotic romance top ten lists.
I’ll assume that y’all already know that book #4 in the Night Fall series released yesterday. I hope you love it! And there are more stories coming in the series—Knight Edition and Night Fall on Dark Mountain, and more stories beyond the six I’m revising and re-releasing. The first story I’ll tackle after book #6 will be the mysterious Viper’s story. I left him in a bit of pickle for far too long…
In the meantime, I’m still writing shorties—because I have to! When I’m between stories and feeling like I just don’t have the energy to start another longer project, writing a shorty gives me a kind of creative break. I hope you’ll give them a try.
Today, I uploaded a short story I wrote on Monday (yes, I can write one of these in one or two days!). It’s my latest Stepbrothers Stepping Out short story. So, you know it’s super naughty. It involves a little sexual blackmail, BDSM, voyeurism, menage… And I managed all that in just 6700 words. 🙂 As soon as it’s live, I’ll post the link here. Be watching for it!
As for the contest, the question I’d like answered is in the subject line of this blog!I’ll choose one winner. The prize will be the winner’s choice of any of the stories on the shorties carousel below!
Stepbrothers Stepping Out: With His Boss
“Would you come inside my office, Zoe?”
I’d have recognized that smooth whiskey voice anywhere. My nerves jangled and my breath hitched. I picked up my notepad and a pen and stood, smoothing down the sides of my knee-length skirt. Then I walked to his door and let myself in. His office was huge. Two monitors sat atop his desk, to the side, giving me a view of his upper body and thick dark hair. He was looking downward at an open file.
I took a deep breath to calm myself and strode toward his desk. “Mr. Patterson—”
“Trace, seeing as you had sex in my pool.”
My jaw dropped. His head lifted and his dark gaze narrowed on my expression. Heat filled my cheeks, and I wondered if I was about to be fired.
He waved a hand at the chair pulled close to the front of his desk, and I sat, landing a little hard because my knees gave out.
“Nothing to say?” he said, his voice low and cool.
“I apologize. I hope you won’t think less of Grayson. It was all my idea.”
“I know.” His head canted to the side, and his gaze moved from my face to my white blouse and lower. “Would you like to know how I know?”
Because I didn’t know what the right answer might be, I nodded.
He turned one of the monitors toward me. In the center was a video frame.
With the touch of a button, I watched as I stepped behind the falls, took a seat and then began to strip off my underwear. The resolution was terrific. So good, I could see my taut nipples. Then Grayson arrived and the footage continued to play.
Until that moment, I didn’t realize just how good Gray and I looked together. Neither of us made horrible faces when we made love. The muscles of his broad shoulders flexed, as did those of his buttocks. His pace was quite athletic.
I watched as I pleasured myself , tonguing my own nipples. Watched Grayson watching me, his blue gaze darkening as it trailed down my breasts to my quickly toggling finger.
The video stopped, and I realized not only was my face flushed, but my entire body was hot. I’d grown aroused.
And from the dark glint in Trace’s brown eyes, he knew it.
I swallowed hard then cleared my throat. “I can’t have been the first guest to fuck in your pool.” I nearly died, my tongue getting in front of my brain. I’d never been able to curb it. Especially when I was angry.
The corners of his mouth twitched, then his lips settled into a firm, straight line. “You’re very new. I’ve been looking over your personnel file.”
My gaze darted to the folder. “I know I don’t have much of a resume. Frankly, I was surprised when your company hired me.”
“I like young employees , love the energy,” he said, his voice smooth but not giving a hint of what he was really thinking. “They bring fresh ideas. And I like setting them free to become who they are meant to be.”
I nearly rolled my eyes at that bit of metaphysical crap, but managed to keep my gaze fixed on him. That wasn’t so hard. His strong featured-face was very striking. Not pretty in the least. Overtly masculine. Again, heat flared, settling in my belly. I shifted in my seat. “You aren’t exactly decrepit yourself.”
He flashed a quick smile then gave me another sharp stare. “I like employees who take risks. Who are open to new ideas.”
“I’m just a secretary. I’m not going to redesign a computer operating system.” Good lord, would I ever shut up?
He tapped his finger against the top of his desk. “Tell me about your… brother.”
*~*~*
I know I’m a terrible tease. Just when you were getting to the good part…
Anyways… It’s brand new. Something you can read, in its entirety, while you’re waiting in the doctor’s office, during your lunch break, or right before bed. A smutty little bit of pleasure. And there’s more below!
To see more of my currently available short stories, check out this page: Short Stories
With the loss of his wife, SEAL leader Daniel Monroe finds himself grounded with four girls to command. It is a job that proves too big even for this stalwart Commander. When he calls in the reserves, his mama and the wife of his best friend, they come up with a different kind of solution – find him a new wife and mother for the girls on-line.
Jill Smith has dedicated her life to caring for others and raising her family. She lived in exile for a quarter of a century, the very American wife of a Royal Marine. Now with her husband dead and her sons grown, she is homesick with a hole the size of Texas in her heart. She is a mother with no one to look after. What’s a girl to do when she sees a handsome officer and four beautiful daughters with no one to care for and love them?
The surprisingly old-fashioned, yet modern, solution to their problems is an arranged marriage. Can ‘the arrangement’ built on shared values, goals and needs withstand the burning heat and wild kink that they create between the sheets…in the shower…on the kitchen counter tops?
To make matters worse, as Jill delves deeper into the supposed suicide of Daniel’s wife, near-miss accidents begin to plague the family. Is it just coincidence or someone trying to keep the truth hidden?
Please note that it is Over the Top HOT. WARNING: This book contains strong language as well as multiple and graphic love scenes including: sexual intercourse, oral and anal play, dirty talk and BDSM within a loving, monogamous marriage.
The story was inspired my own almost decade long exile as an American girl living in London. It offers a tiny taste of the cultural differences such as pancakes so thin you can practically see through them and words like jumper and loo.
But the flame that really ignited it was an old Henry Fonda and Lucille Ball movie called Yours, Mine and Ours (original 1968 version). It was the story of Navy Officer Frank Beardsley, a widower with ten children. He falls in love with and marries a nurse Helen North with eight blessings all her own. Of course, these days unless you are a reality TV star, no one has that many children. My Navy Commander Daniel Monroe has four beautiful little girls…to match her four adult sons.
In the original movie, Frank’s friend plays matchmaker, but I put a modern twist on the story with an internet website dedicated to the military…and Daniel’s mother and his best friend’s wife doing the looking and picking without his knowledge.
By 1960’s standard, Ford and Ball had a sexual chemistry and frank talking manner that pushed the envelop. I have carried that forward into the 21st century with a re-discovery and exploration of sexual appetites and fetishes that are not for the faint of heart. While the sex scenes are graphic in nature and the language strong, they move the story forward with a focus upon real life issues that many of us face: body image issues and feelings of sexual inadequacy. All the kink in this story is kept within the loving bounds of matrimony; after all can anything done in love truly be wrong?
I can’t wait for August 11th to come! Know why? Okay, you can probably guess by the title of this post and the great big, in-your-face cover below.
Hotter with A Pole releases on August 11th!
So I have releases all the time. Why am I so excited by this one? It’s my first strictly male-male romance. And it’s smokin’ hot and strangely sweet, and I can’t wait for you to read it!
I love my Memphis set books. The five Delta Heat stories were filled with kink and fun. But then I decided to add a little touch of dangerous doings and real-life action into the Firehouse 69 sequel series. The added conflict certainly upped the angst for Hoyt and Noah in HWAP. And again, I can’t wait for you to read it!
I’ve provided an excerpt below and the links where you can pre-order the book. I do have the feeling you’re going to love it.
For a chance to win one of the prequel books from Delta Heat or Burnin’ Up Memphis, Book 1 in this series, answer the following question…
What’s your favorite piece of a firefighter’s equipment? Have fun!
Hotter With A Pole
When your heart is stuck in the wrong gear, a quick fix isn’t going to cut it.
When Noah buys a classic ’68 Camaro from a fellow firefighter’s widow, he hopes it will ease some of the grief crushing his heart. But the grinding noise under the car’s hood sends him straight to a mechanic. Something about the burly, imposing Hoyt sparks Noah’s interest, and it’s not just Hoyt’s ice-blue eyes and bad-boy biker looks. It’s the mutual interest they have—Club LaForge.
After losing his partner to cancer a year ago, Hoyt never thought he’d feel the same kind of rush with another man. But his reaction to Noah throbs deep in his body like the rumble of his Harley.
LaForge seems like the perfect place to meet and work off some sorrow, to feel alive again. But the flood of desire quickly gets hot enough to melt their emotional barriers into unexpected connections.
Connections Hoyt isn’t sure he’s ready for…especially since history has a scary way of repeating itself.
Product Warnings
Warning: Get your motor running for a Harley-riding hunk of muscle who doesn’t give a damn about the rules of being a Dom, and a firefighter who can take the heat. Buy a case of your favorite coolant. You’re gonna need it.
“My bike’s parked outside the back exit. Do you need to tell anyone goodbye?”
Noah shook his head, his stomach filling with those odd fluttery feelings again.
Hoyt walked to Noah’s clothing and handed him his pants. As Noah dressed, Hoyt’s gaze slid over his body, more intimately than it had before, lingering on his cock, his chest, then rising to meet his gaze.
Noah knew where this was going. Knew they might skip a ton of preliminaries, but he didn’t need them. His body was already tightening again. The sooner he was alone with Hoyt, really alone, he knew things would happen quickly, and he didn’t really want time to consider what any of this meant—this wild attraction, this need that centered in his chest, because he thought maybe Hoyt was every bit as lonely as he was. That there was something painful in his past. The hints of bleakness he’d seen in his eyes the day before had seemed to mirror his own pain.
For Hoyt to be this transparently intense, this eager to climb right over everything he was—a man, a Dom—to get straight to the intimacy of being with him, pointed at something.
And Noah was more than just curious now. He wanted to know who Hoyt was, what drove him, what secrets lay behind his hooded gaze. He tucked his cock inside his pants and reached for the shirt Hoyt handed him, only Hoyt didn’t let it go. Instead, the other man tugged on it, pulling Noah closer.
Noah drew a shaky breath and let himself be reeled in until they stood so close one deep breath would cause their bared chests to meet. His nipples tightened. When Hoyt leaned toward him, he closed his eyes.
A firm mouth glided over his. Noah opened. Hoyt thrust his tongue inside and then licked along Noah’s tongue, coaxing Noah’s to come into his mouth where he then sucked on it.
Noah groaned, closed the gap between their chests and went with his instincts, lifting a hand to grip the other man’s hips and aligning his clothed cock with Hoyt’s.
Hoyt clutched Noah’s ass and the back of his head and growled deep in his throat as he rubbed up and down Noah’s shaft.
Noah was in good shape, knew what a hard body felt like, but Hoyt’s muscle was more than hard, it was bulky, hot—and trembling against him.
When Hoyt broke the kiss, Noah fought the urge to follow him. Instead, he stood close, their cocks still aligned, and he knew with an unwavering certainty, he was ready for this. For Hoyt. “Let’s go,” he said.
Hi – I’m Lizzie Ashworth. Thanks, Delilah, for inviting me to your blog for the day!
It’s another hot July day, and yours is about to get hotter. Now just 99 cents (free on Kindle Unlimited), Hers to Choose is a full-length erotic romance novel. The language is salty and the story heavily spiced with BDSM.
Here’s just one of many 5 star reviews: “Loved this book. It is very well written. I love how Bryn craves the kink. I think we all would love a little kink every now and then. Highly recommend this book to anyone who loves the BDSM side of things!”
The story plunges straight to the heart of America in both setting (St. Louis and rural Ozarks) and in character. Hunting rights on her inherited Ozark farm is Bryn McClure’s emergency plan to stop foreclosure. A little BDSM on the side—she can handle that, too. But when the day arrives and she stands on her porch watching two gorgeous men walk toward her, she suddenly wonders what kind of mess she’s gotten herself into.
As cousins raised like brothers, Alex and Dan Cannon work hard to continue the successful construction/contracting business established by their fathers. Maybe not so successful are their affairs of the heart, especially when they find themselves up front and personal with the kinky side of things.
Are they naturally suited to the world of domination and submission? Or do they have to work at it to please a woman they love? Is it even possible for someone not naturally ‘kinky’ to learn to enjoy it?
Here’s an excerpt from Chapter 2:
Hair neatly braided and wearing her insulated vest, Bryn loaded the four-wheeler in the early light. Ka-boom sounded in the creek bottom soon followed by a second shot. No surprise they’d have a shot first day out, she mused as she jostled down to the cabin. After this, though, deer would be harder to find. They knew what gunshots meant.
It was exactly one hour after sunrise. Overnight temperatures had dropped below freezing and white frost coated the pastures. A spiral of smoke rose from the cabin’s old chimney, and the aromatic scent laced the cold air.
With the breakfast warming on the wood stove, she quickly cleared the table and crammed all the dirty stuff into the box. She set the lunch basket on the shelf and had just finished wiping off the table when the door opened and Dan stepped inside. Oh, he was devastating. A big hunting knife strapped to his belt and a 30-06 rifle gleamed in his gloved hands. His straw-blonde hair bristled around his orange hunting cap, and his pale stare pinned her down with an icy look.
“Good morning,” she said, offering a careful smile. Did he expect her eyes to stay lowered in a formally submissive manner? “How’re you today?”
“Damn hungry. I hope you brought enough food.” He placed the gun on the top bunk and peeled off the orange vest. “Not quite enough dinner last night, in case you’re still taking notes.”
She decided she didn’t actually like him. Anger and hostility exuded from every pore. Her body shivered at the idea of him in control over her. But then, she didn’t have to like him. She would serve him and hope that his discipline didn’t cause her to need him in some perverse way.
“Oh, I’m sorry.” She carried his hot plate to the table, burning her hands. Shit. She rubbed her fingers on the sides of her jeans. “I’ll make extra from now on.”
“Great.” He threw his insulated camo jacket on the bed, revealing the white Thinsulate shirt stretched tight across his wide shoulders and chest. “Alex is still in the woods. He thinks he’s going to get another chance at that buck.” He chuckled and pulled out a chair.
She bit her lip and tried to stop gaping at his physique. What the hell was wrong with her? Was she really this starved for a man? Or were these guys extra special hot? Uh, both, damn it. She nervously smoothed her flannel shirt.
“This discipline thing…I assume you know what I’m talking about?” He shoveled a big bite of egg and biscuit into his mouth and washed it down with a gulp of coffee. He glanced at her. “Right?”
“Yes, sir.” She licked her lips nervously. “I’m at your service.”
He paused. “Your friend Wade showed me around his place. But I have no idea what you expect. Alex says spanking with your wrists tied. Is that the deal?”
“Yes, sir,” she said in a low voice, lowering her eyes. “And other discipline, if it pleases you.”
His eyes glittered at her briefly, causing her stomach to clench. She considered asking what he would like, but she suddenly didn’t have the strength. If he’d been with Wade, surely he had his own ideas. Wade knew her secrets. Her legs felt unexpectedly weak.
“We’ll get started, then.” He continued wolfing down his breakfast. “Soon as I finish eating.”
Her pulse skidded in her throat. What had she been thinking? With Ethan and their friends in St. Louis, BDSM had been a casual evening activity with alcohol, music, and lots of teasing. But she didn’t know this man. Maybe her first impressions would turn out to be wrong, but it seemed to her he could easily harbor a cruel streak. Her worry returned that this could turn into something she didn’t like at all. She grabbed the broom and swept up around the wood stove, trying not to think about it.
Dan pushed back his chair and went to his things on the upper bunk. She felt herself retreat from his intense stare.
“Miss McClure, come over here.”
Her heart thudded as she presented herself in front of him. A brief glance up at his unsmiling face caused her breath to catch. She lowered her eyes, afraid to move.
“I give you my word that I will only go as far as you want with this,” he said quietly. “Wade said you need to feel you can trust me.”
“Yes,” she replied. “I do need that. Thank you, sir.”
“Sir.” He exhaled and shook his head. After a moment’s hesitation, he grabbed one of her wrists and stretched her arm to the top of the bunk bed corner post, then pulled up the other wrist to tie them tightly together. Her face and chest jammed against the wooden post, her feet barely touching the floor.
His eyes narrowed as he tapped a slender wooden paddle against his palm then gripped it so tightly his knuckles turned white. “I guess Wade knows what you like?”
She nodded. He was obviously nervous. Her fear softened slightly.
He slammed the paddle onto the table, making her gasp, then leaned toward her so that she could see the flinty depths of his steel blue eyes. “Do you accept my authority, Miss McClure?”
“Y-yes,” she stammered. “Yes sir.” She tried to remember some of the appropriate language for a submissive. “I only want to please you, sir.”
“What’s your safe word?”
“River,’ sir.”
“‘River.’ Anything else I need to know?”
She shook her head, unable to speak as his hands slid around her waist to the fastener of her jeans. He was lowering her pants! She hadn’t anticipated this. She wore old white cotton panties. No doubt he would factor that into his opinion of her and use it to justify greater humiliation.
Heat coiled deep in her belly as he shoved the jeans and panties down to her thighs. She struggled slightly with the ties. He had taken total control over her body. This man she hardly knew was looking at her ass, and no matter how crazy it was, that made her wet. Suddenly she craved whatever pain he would give her.
“Until I figure out more about this discipline thing,” he growled near her ear, “I’m starting with ten stripes.”
Whack! She flinched as the board burned her skin. His big hand rubbed over the mark. The physical contact caught her by surprise. Her whole body tensed. The paddle stung more than she had expected.
Whack!Whack!
He wasn’t holding back. Her ass started to glow, and her clit was swelling up and throbbing between her clenched thighs. Heat spread from her buttocks over her entire body. Oh my god, this was better than she remembered.
Whack!Whack!
“Oh!” She bit her lip harder. Sweat filmed her neck as his hand caressed the painful marks. Her buttocks quivered. She wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. Yes, it hurt, but it also turned her on like nothing else.
Whack!Whack!Whack!
Her breasts crushed against the corner post as the force of his paddling strengthened. Or maybe it was her aroused state that made it seem more forceful.
Whack!Whack!
Stronger than the rest, the last two scorched her ass and sent a bigger throb of need to her sex. Her breath came in short gasps.
She could hear his rapid breathing behind her, knew he wanted to keep paddling her. She argued with herself, tempted to ask for more. More spanking, more humiliation, more of anything. The extremity of her sudden desire shocked her. This man had a way about him. She wanted to grovel at his feet.
“Alright,” he said after a few moments. He pulled the knots loose at her wrists. “Another session tomorrow, Miss McClure.”
Check outHot Highlanders and Wild Warriors, an anthology containing fourteen very sexy short stories by talented authors! Edited by NY Times Bestseller Delilah Devlin.
It started innocently enough. A rich young man in search of adventure in sadistic humiliation. An older woman intent on her profession as dominatrix. Their crossed paths should have been six weeks of a purely business relationship.
But things never go as planned.
The story of Jarrod Bancroft becomes much more than scenes of extreme sexual kink. Hope rejected, regret and anguish, terror in captivity, and an awful truth about Jarrod’s family emerge in this richly-presented series. Jarrod Bancroft’s adventure reveals old lies, ugly threats, and the raw human need for love.
More classic Lizzie Ashworth erotic romance: Nice and Naughty Cannon Cousins series.
(Spoiler Alert: If you haven’t read Book I Hers to Choose, you might want to skip this preview)
Dan Cannon confronts the worst experience of his life when he discovers money, and lots of it, is missing from company accounts. He’s a little heartbroken over the loss of Bryn in the intimate threesome he and his cousin Alex shared with her, even though he’s happy the couple is ready to start a family. He blames himself for being distracted so much that Cannon Company has suffered. When he hires CPA Riley Montgomery to track down the money, the last thing he expects is to find himself completely distracted by the woman.
Riley can’t afford to venture off into unethical dalliance with a client, even if the client is the devastatingly handsome Dan Cannon. She tries to stay focused on the pact she’s made with her old friend and current lover Lucy Duncan, after failed marriages caused both women to swear off men. But Lucy decides Dan is too good to pass up, especially after he makes good on his threat to spank her.
Things go from bad to worse when Riley uncovers a money trail pointing to Cannon Company’s long-time employee and Lucy realizes that the sparks flying between Dan and Riley scream for friendly intervention.
F/F, F/F/M, F/M, BDSM
Check out Lizzie’s sweet, sexy romance, Faint Heart
Cara Carson only wants one thing, and it isn’t a man. Since the tragic death of her husband, she has focused on creating a business she could give herself to, a ‘marriage’ that will never leave her stunned in grief. Her recipes are perfected and the old house remodel is underway. But on this raw March morning, the contractor isn’t returning her calls, there’s a bulldozer mired in mud on the side lot, and the man operating it has managed to destroy the old willow tree she wanted saved. Furious, she charges across the mire to demand answers.
Unexpectedly and even more infuriating, she finds her feet stuck in the mud. Her arms flailing, she steams in silence as the bulldozer operator has to come carry her out.
Morgan Woods never believed in love. Until now, it’s been easy to take and leave women. This woman shouldn’t be any different, except something about her pouty pink lips and her blazing hazel eyes sails past all his defenses. His business-partner dad is sick and his businesses are struggling, but he never wants to let this bewitching woman out of his arms.
Can two broken people find a way to trust again? Or will their mistakes only add more layers to the scars already shrouding their hearts?
New Series!
Lizzie Ashworth delves into the future! What is the reality of romance and sex in 2060? The House of Rae series plunges deep into a world of terrorists, legalized prostitution, and a menu of men too delicious to ignore! The story of a young man’s challenge in an unexpected world.
Fires burn out of control contaminating crops and water supplies with poison particulate. Carbon film infection runs rampant, spreading its devastating brown death across the globe. Only the mysterious effects of pleasure energy clear the infection. Transmitted by psionic adepts from dance centers, meditation rooms, and sex houses to the healing grids, pleasure energy ignites controversy and dissent.
Or the disease is a lie fabricated by the liberty culture. According to the Brotherhood, these are nothing less than the end times, hastened by the world’s slide into moral decay. Young Josh Carter, fourth generation Brotherhood, has trained for years to combat this lie, to right the wrongs. Now the time has arrived.
Josh Carter’s mission—get inside the House of Rae sex house and take it down.
Three years after his brush with death, all Josh Carter wants is a normal life. With his days as a terrorist firmly behind him, he and Anne journey to the West Coast for her graduate scholarship in biomedical engineering at the University of California at Santa Cruz. They look forward to snuggling up in a cottage near the beach. There will be long walks on the sand, leisurely hikes in the redwoods—life will be good in the Golden State.
As they near the Santa Cruz Mountains, the road and surroundings fade. Josh grips the steering wheel as dark layers of rock shatter and groan. Grinding, crumbling, the ground deep below appears in three dimensional, holographic imagery. The vision ends as suddenly as it began, but he knows what he’s seen—a real-time, real-life view of the faulted crust beneath them clear down to the very thrust of the Pacific plate pushing underneath the Continental plate and all the molten tearing of rock that goes on down there.
Why that? Why him?
Over the coming weeks, more visions and other extrasensory phenomena plague Josh. He buries himself in his lousy job and his love for Anne. A simple life is all he wants, to watch the waves roll onshore and make love in the afternoon. Is that really too much to ask?
In a world where pleasure energy is the only cure for the horrors of brown death, what is the fate of a powerful psion who refuses the call?
UPDATE: The winner of the free download is…Kristie!
* * * * *
Ménage can be kind of irresistible. To write or read. Why settle for one hot lover when you can have two or more? I enjoy the challenge of writing it—figuring out how to describe all those moving parts, trying to make the scene move quickly, and still let the reader know who’s saying/touching what. And I’ll admit it. When I’m writing it, I’m that character, closing my eyes and imagining every kiss.
I’ve written a few. 🙂 The book coming May 12th, Under a Blood Moon, features a foursome (a witch, two mermen and a sea draugr). To tide you over until then, take a peek inside Two Hot!
Comment for a chance to win Two Hot or one of the short stories on this carousel!
Do you like ménage stories? If so, what flavor of ménage do you prefer — m/m/f, m/f/m, f/m/f, f/f/m? More mm’s?
* * * * *
Click to Buy
Afraid to spoil their friendship, Emily had been reluctant to act on her attraction to the two sexy men next door. However, when she’s caught spying on them, the men decide a little punishment is in order…
Beads of condensation, glittering jewel-like in the sputtering candlelight, ran in rivulets down the sides of Jason’s ice-cold beer.
Detail I shouldn’t have been able to note, given the fact I was thirty feet away.
As I lowered my nephew’s toy binoculars, I reflected that I had indeed sunk to a new low. You see, my bedroom window conveniently overlooked Jason and Robert’s backyard. A fact that probably never registered with the previous tenants, but one that proved too delicious to ignore after the arrival of the handsome duo. Privacy fencing, which ran down to the pier that jutted into the lake, separated the row of houses where we lived. It was high enough the neighbors on either side of ours couldn’t see into their yard, but lucky me—I had the perfect view.
Upon discovering this, I had began a furtive surveillance. One that had me cringing in embarrassment each time I greeted them in passing and feeling even more ashamed when we struck up a friendship.
We’d shared meals, drinks, late afternoon swims, watched football games together on their wide-screen TV. And still, I peeked into their backyard, waiting for those moments when they popped outside to mow the lawn or catch a few summer rays. Their bodies gleamed with sweat while raw lust warred inside me, along with the fear that I’d mess up our relationship if I let the guys know how I really felt.
My convenient perch on the windowsill afforded me a window into their private lives, and from the very beginning, I was hooked. They’d become an obsession, one frustrated by the fact they treated me like a kid sister, rather than a woman one of them might desire.
And therein lay another problem. I’d resisted the urge to seek a deeper relationship because then I’d have to choose. My libido was completely fickle, lusting after Jason’s muscled physique, then sighing over the possibilities of what Robert’s tall, bony frame and large feet hinted at. That their personalities were perfect bookends, fierce and funny, confused my heart as well.
Lucky, lucky me. I licked the sweat gathering on my upper lip while this night one of the handsome men living next door tilted his bottle and took several long sips. The look of pure bliss that softened his otherwise stern features made my chest ache.
I watched the movement of Jason’s throat as he worked it down, imagining him sipping at my overheated flesh. My skin began to tingle. My nipples beaded, crowding uncomfortably against my lace bra. My thighs clenched as a delicious wash of arousal seeped to wet the crotch of my plain panties.
The sigh he emitted as he set the bottle on the table was echoed by my own painful groan. Watching either of them had never caused my heart to skip a beat like that hint of a moan sliding on the tail of Jason’s long exhalation.
Sure, it was hotter than hell out there. I too felt the effects of the enervating heat. Record temperatures had strained the region’s resources and planned service interruptions began that night. But something about that sigh felt…un-subtle, exaggerated, maybe even dramatic. And Jason was too straightforward a man for that.
I blotted sweat from my forehead, asking myself again, What am I doing?
Only this time, my peeping hadn’t been deliberate. I’d rushed home from work and showered quickly to beat the scheduled brown-out. Then I’d stripped to my underwear, pulled back the curtains, and opened the window, hoping for a breeze to cool my skin. Sitting limply on the sill, I waited for the world to flicker into life again.
That’s when I’d noticed him, sitting in a lounge chair alone in the dark.
He wore his usual work “uniform”—khaki trousers, white shirt and a tie. Tonight, the tie hung loosened and askew, his collar opened beneath it.
Despite the lack of electricity, I could see it all. Moonlight silvered his dark hair and reflected bright as a beacon against the white shirt. The golden light from the large Citronella candle leant warmth to his skin and the amber bottle he held between his hands.
As always, he was lovely to watch, but tonight, his expression drew my attention more than his breath-stealing features. A sullen slanting of his brows, a bit of pout plumping his masculine lips, an edgy energy to his slight movements—he was either irritated or aroused.
Wanting an answer to the “either-or,” I watched. My forte is observation; my people-radar exquisitely tuned to body language and a voice’s tonal cues. My curiosity and my lust were caught. No way could I back away from my window now.
The bottle tapped the table as he set it aside. A long-fingered hand tugged the knot of his tie, dragging it from his neck.
When he began to undo the row of buttons down the front of his shirt, I settled deeper on the sill, leaning closer, but taking care to keep my pale body hidden behind the sheer curtain.
The edges of the shirt parted over a broad, nicely muscled chest. My gaze zeroed in on taut lean abs dusted with dense fur the same color as his close-cropped black hair that stretched nipple to nipple then ran along a thin dark line to slip beneath his zipper.
His hand stroked his chest, scratching through the hair, the faint crinkling sound causing my own chest to tighten, my nipples to surge.
A light sheen of sweat glimmered on his chest and belly. Again, my tongue swept my lips, tasting salt, and I imagined I lapped the dew right off his skin.
When a lazily roaming hand slid over his belly, I tensed, fascinated as he swept the flat plane. Would he be hard or desk-soft? His stomach looked firm. So, I enjoyed fantasizing that he was and touched my own stomach, following his path.
His hand slid down to the knot bulging behind his fly, and he cupped it. Squeezed.
My own hands itched to replace his and grew still, clenching against the fantasy of holding his burgeoning cock as it roused. My cheeks heated and my breaths shortened. No need to tease my own body into arousal, moisture already soaked my panties.
The buckle clanked open, and the belt slid sinuously from the loops as he lifted his hips and pulled it free. A flick of his thumb and the button at the waistband of his trousers opened. His zipper rasped as it slid down.
Dark fabric formed a vee-like shadow as his hand rooted beneath his waist, and then he slipped the long, gleaming column of his semi-aroused sex from the flap at the front of his boxers and wrapped his fingers around it.
I swallowed the liquid pooling in my mouth. I blinked to moisten eyes that had grown dry and scratchy as I stared, wide-eyed. My breaths grew ragged, a little choked, and I must have made a noise, because suddenly his head swung my way.
His gaze narrowed on my bedroom window.
Holding my breath, I froze, hoping his gaze couldn’t penetrate the darkness.
But a crooked smile slowly stretched his lips, and his hand tightened around himself and began to pump up and down the thickening rod. All the while, he stared at me.
Jason knew I watched but didn’t seem to mind. I let out a deep, trembling breath and continued to stare, my own body heating, growing increasingly aroused in tandem with his hardening cock.
His head turned away, and his hand dropped from his engorged cock. It fell against his belly with a soft, muffled thud. Heavy, hot, thick—I knew its girth would stretch my mouth.
Another sound intruded. The chime of my doorbell. I bit back a curse and drew away from the window, slung on my robe, then headed downstairs to the front door.
Robert stood on the stoop, a lazy grin on his face, a sweep of lank blonde hair covering one eye and two beers dangling from his fingers. He was shirtless. Low-riding, blue knee-length shorts encased slender hips and revealed long legs. His large feet were bare. “Thought you might like to join us.”
He glanced around the massive room. Wreaths hung on four glass doors that led to a snow-covered deck which overlooked the same view he saw from his bedroom. Comfortable couches and arm chairs clustered around coffee tables in conversational groupings. Red candles burned here and there, sending off a tantalizing aroma of cinnamon and spice. Flames leapt from logs in an immense fireplace at the far end of the room where a long mantle hosted a row of colorful stockings, dishes of candy canes, and more evergreen boughs. He wanted to laugh out loud.
