This Tuesday, Jessica Brand joins us with her sizzling BDSM romance, Laura’s Longing…
A story of love and exploration. Laura is the quintessential all American small town girl, the vivacious cheerleader who is saving herself for the love of her life. Unfortunately the love of her life is the bad boy in town. Young love being what it is, she finally decides he’s the one to make her a woman and she develops a plan for her fairytale outcome. Unfortunately her fairytale turns into a horror story when she finds her beau, in flagrante delicto with another girl bent over the kitchen table.
In her anger and her grief she seeks solace from her closest girlfriend and after purging some of her pent up lust in the arms of her friend she decides the town is not big enough for all of them and moves to the city to make a new life. Accepting an offer of accommodation in Denver from a mysterious woman a few years older than herself, Laura soon discovers activities taking place in her host’s basement studio that defy Laura’s comprehension. Initially shocked at what she witnesses, her shock turns to arousal as she watches erotic games involving activities she had no idea were possible.
Determined to explore further, she convinces her host introduce her to this strange world of bondage and discipline where the lines between pain and pleasure are blurred, where being spanked could be erotic or agonizing, depending on one’s perspective. Her first experience convinces her she needs more and after unexpectedly meeting a new love, sets about introducing him to the BDSM netherworld. Ensuring he learns from experience, Laura is finally satisfied as their love is consummated in the erotic confines of her housemate’s dungeon.
Laura’s Longing is not for the faint hearted as it takes the reader into the highly erotic world of consensual BDSM.
Check out this naughty little excerpt from the book…
Laura looked up, not moving. Frankie met her gaze and slipped around beside her, bending over and slipping her hand between Laura’s unresisting thighs. She continued to look at Laura as her finger slipped deep inside her, causing Laura to gasp before moaning in pleasure.
“He has never been able to do that so easily,” she said, the surprise obvious in her voice.
“I know,” Frankie replied soothingly. “He would still be fumbling about at this point, wondering how he was going to slip his cock in there. Your feelings would not even be coming into it. Now, slide forward for me.”
Laura complied before Frankie moved around in front of her, leaving her finger inside as she knelt between Laura’s splayed legs. As Frankie moved, Laura felt the movement of her finger inside her slick sex and knew the sensations she felt were no accident. Her friend knew exactly what she was doing.
“Now close your eyes and enjoy the ride.” As soon as she spoke she used her fingers to open Laura’s labia. Her tongue then darted in and out of Laura’s glistening sex, barely touching her but eliciting instant moans of pleasure.
In this red-hot book, Dante has been Erica’s savior since she was a child, protecting her from others, wiping her tears, making her feel worthy. Until, as the years passed, she began to feel something new…and a girl’s crush became a young woman’s unyielding passion. Though she ran away to Paris after Dante unknowingly broke her heart, even distance couldn’t quell Erica’s desire. Because she knows Dante well, knows what he’s capable of doing for a woman…and knows her submissive needs match Dante’s deep dominance perfectly.
Dante’s in trouble. For years he’s kept his burning ache for his best friend’s sister firmly in check. But now Erica’s back in the States, more gorgeous than ever. Worse, she wants to learn about BDSM—and she’s determined to have Dante as a teacher. He won’t let her near the club he co-owns with her brother—Chris would kill him—but he’ll “train” her at home. When he’s done, Erica will want nothing to do with the lifestyle. And hopefully her crush on Dante will be diminished…for both their sakes.
But Erica proves to be far more resilient that he’d ever dreamed, and Dante’s plan backfires in spectacular fashion, driving her straight into the clutches of someone far worse than another Dom. Someone dangerous, someone from his past…who’s going to make Erica pay for Dante’s sins.
Read this extended (18+) excerpt from the story, and then grab a copy of your own…
The teenaged girl hiding above in the barn’s hayloft watched as the man she loved pulled the woman roughly into his arms. As he kissed the woman’s mouth, the girl struggled not to cry.
The man stripped the woman’s clothes off—all of them—strewing them like so much rubbish on the filthy barn floor. He turned her to face away from him, positioned her legs so they were wide apart, then pushed down on her shoulders. The woman bent over and grasped the low railing in front of her.
The man pulled off his T-shirt, revealing smooth olive skin ridged with muscle and a dark trail of hair that disappeared below the waistband of his jeans. He unbuckled his belt and pulled it free from the belt loops. The girl bit down on her bottom lip in anticipation of seeing him fully naked. But instead of shedding the rest of his clothes, as she expected, he doubled the belt over, lifted his arm back and brought the belt down onto the woman’s bottom with a loud thwack.
The young girl stifled a gasp. The woman did not.
The girl would have been shocked into stillness if she hadn’t already been rigid as a statue, determined to not divulge her presence to the couple below. She could hardly believe what she was witnessing. However, her growing bubble of righteous indignation burst in response to the sounds the woman began to make. With each subsequent slap of belt against flesh, the woman flinched, but then moaned as if she reveled in this treatment.
The girl stared transfixed in a haze of disbelief.
Disbelief that slowly morphed into hot, pulsing arousal.
The man brought his belt down over and over until the woman’s backside was reddened and the voyeur upstairs was aching and restless and needing.
He finally threw his belt to the ground and moved up behind the woman. He fondled her abused bottom cheeks. When he pinched her there, the woman squealed—a high-pitched, desperate sound. And then he was unfastening the fly of his jeans. Before the girl could get a glimpse of the part of him she was longing to see, he shoved it roughly into the woman, who immediately screamed and shuddered as she orgasmed helplessly.
The man clasped his hand over the woman’s mouth as he fucked her. He fucked her at first with slow, controlled strokes, and then harder and faster until he was pounding into her, almost lifting her off her feet. And if the woman was making any more noise behind that big hand, the voyeur upstairs didn’t know. All she could hear was the blood pounding in her own ears.
She wanted so badly to be there, in place of that woman. The fantasies conjured by her inexperienced mind, of being kissed softly and taken gently by the man, dissolved away in the face of the reality of him.
She wanted him this way, in a way she’d never before imagined, with him controlling her roughly with strong hands, holding her down, making her take what he wanted to give her, taking exactly what he wanted from her.
The harsh lines of pleasure on his face made her crave to be the one giving him that kind pleasure, giving him everything he wanted.
The ache deep inside her became so overwhelming and so unbearable, she cupped herself and pressed, hard. And while the man she’d loved forever bucked and cried out his release, the girl came quietly, her teeth clamped together, with tears pouring down her face. And her heart breaking into a million pieces.
Erica fidgeted in her seat…for about the hundredth time.
The passenger beside her huffed and gave her angry businessman side-eye. She ignored the man, her hands hovering over her belt buckle, willing the “fasten seat belt” sign to make that “ping” sound so she could get off the damn plane. And get to him.
In the five long years she’d lived in Paris, since she was eighteen years old, she hadn’t seen him.
Dante. Just the sound of his name in her own mind gave her shivers.
She wondered if she’d somehow romanticized him. Was he really so devastatingly handsome, so powerful and dangerously sexual? Would he look at her with that dark, intense gaze, the way he did in her fantasies as she lay in her bed, alone, burning and restless? Would that secret smile of his still make her heart race? Would he make her insides clench and her sex moisten when he spoke to her in his deep, velvet voice?
Would he have a beer belly and a receding hairline?
He was twenty-five the last time she’d laid eyes on him. But knowing Dante, at thirty he’d probably look even sexier than he had back then. Gorgeous, infuriating man.
By the time Erica got to the baggage collection area, she was just about crawling out of her skin with impatience. Her stomach churned. While waiting for her luggage to appear, she rubbed sweaty palms on the thighs of her jeans, realizing she hadn’t felt this nervous for a very long time. Maybe since the last time she’d seen Dante. She silently admonished herself. She was determined to behave in a cool, sophisticated manner—Parisian nonchalance at its best—not like some crazy, lovesick schoolgirl.
Trouble was, she felt a little crazy. And sick. And she was most definitely in love.
But Erica needed to get a grip. She was adamant that Dante finally regard her as something other than his best friend’s kid sister. She wanted him to see her as a woman.
And not just any woman, but hopefully the woman who could belong to him.
Dante leaned against a concrete pillar in the arrivals hall waiting for Erica. His eyes scanned the passengers as they streamed out of the exit door, until he caught a flash of red in his peripheral vision. His heart thumped faster. Then a large man moved out of Dante’s line of sight and there she was.
Madre di Dio, she was so fucking beautiful, Dante’s breath caught in his chest.
He knew many beautiful women, but Erica was unique. She was stunning, statuesque, earthy…raw. There was a kind of wildness inherent in her beauty. In his more fantastical imaginings, Dante pictured her standing barefoot in a forest, every inch of her milky skin and lush body bared, her flame-red hair whipping fiercely in the wind.
She was like a goddess of the Earth.
And just as untouchable.
Even with his sole focus on her, from the corner of his eye Dante noticed other men’s heads turning to look at her. It made him want to growl and bare his teeth at them like an animal. But he could see, as per usual, Erica was oblivious to the way she affected males of the species.
She was tall—six feet without shoes on—which put her close to eye level with Dante’s six foot three. Her frame was sturdy with broad shoulders and nicely muscled thighs. He could now see the worn-out, skin-hugging jeans encasing those gorgeous legs that just went on and on forever. Her auburn hair appeared red under the fluorescent lighting, but Dante knew once she was out in the sun, he would see the shimmery streaks of copper and gold.
He watched as she scanned the room, a deep furrow between her brows. He used to rub that spot with his thumb and tell her she’d get old lady wrinkles if she didn’t stop frowning.
She saw him then, and her face lit up, her mouth breaking into her almost-too-wide smile.
She broke into a run and before he knew what she was about, she launched herself at him, jumping right into his arms. He grabbed her under her ass while she encircled his neck with her arms and his waist with her legs—those long, strong legs he’d dreamed about having wrapped around him.
“Dante,” she breathed in his ear, “I’ve missed you so much.”
At the sound of his name on her lips in that honeyed, husky voice and her warm breath in his ear, a shiver racked his spine.
Dante didn’t speak. He couldn’t. His throat choked up with all the words he longed to say to her but never would. He held her tight instead, pressed his lips to her cheek, then buried his face in her hair and breathed deeply, inhaling her scent. She smelled of oranges, summer days and sunlight.
He reveled in the feeling of her wrapped around him; it felt so right to finally hold her this way. He wondered if it was his overactive imagination, but he could have sworn he felt the heat from her sex penetrating through their clothing, branding his skin.
The need to claim her clawed up from inside him like a wild beast that had been caged too long. Beads of perspiration broke out on his lip at the thought of pushing her up against the nearest concrete pillar and driving himself inside her. He ground his teeth and prayed for sanity.
They held on to each other for a long time, neither of them moving to break the connection. After this initial reunion, they wouldn’t hold each other like this again. This was his best friend’s little sister; she was off-limits to him. No matter how he burned for her, how much he wanted her to be his, she never could be.
Finally, with more than a little difficulty, he forced himself to loosen his grip on her. As she slid slowly down his body, lust kicked him so hard in his gut, he thought he would fall to his knees.
She gazed at him with those clear gray eyes that had always utterly fascinated him. Gray, slightly tinged with green, the iris ringed with a color so deep, it was almost as dark as the pupil at its center. He knew he shouldn’t do it, but it was as if his hand and brain spoke two different languages.
Brain: “Don’t do it. Don’t touch her.”
Hand: “I no speaka de English.”
He touched her.
He fingered a strand of her hair and then slowly tucked it behind her ear. Her breath puffed out on a sigh and her eyes fluttered closed momentarily. Dante closed his eyes for a moment too, envisioning how she would react if he really touched her. Touched her in the ways he’d been dreaming of for so many years.
He imagined that underneath Erica’s sassy tomboy exterior lived a passionately sexual woman who would be as fiery as the hue of her hair. If they came together it would be incendiary. They would burn the damn place down around their ears.
And if he tried to take control of that fire and passion—to quiet it sometimes, and stoke it to greater heights at others, based solely on his whims and his wants—would she fight him? He thought he might like it if she fought him a little.
It’s Saturday, and we all know what that means – it’s time for a spanking! 😉
This week, I bring you another sizzling interlude between Lord Thomas Markham and his beautiful ward, Lady Lydia. In this scene, Lydia is looking to garner Thomas’ attention, but she gets a little more than she bargained for…
The depth of the authority in his voice stirs me, sending energy coursing around my body. It pools at the apex of my legs, causing delicious tingles there. “I am sorry to have pressed the point,” I say, and I mean it, although I cannot help but wonder if it is his discipline which I really crave and have missed this last week.
I swear he senses the answer as he reaches for me. He sinks the fingers of his right hand into my hair and draws my body toward him. “Lydia,” he says, his voice almost a low growl. “Are you being intentionally disrespectful, I wonder?”
A silent gasp leaves my mouth as I look upon him.
“Oh, so you are…” he says with a knowing smile. “That is what this is about…”
I flush, knowing that there is little point denying what we both already know to be true. I glance up to him, my eyes imploring the messages I long to say. He pulls me closer, pressing my head against his warm chest. “Have you missed me, my love?” His voice is a deep murmur into my right ear.
“Yes…” I just about manage.
“And so you have chosen to be intentionally disobedient, to garner my attention?”
I shift my head, looking wildly into his face. “It is not my intention, My Lord,” I whimper.
“Oh, really, little one?” he asks, as that brow arches once again. “I think that is an untruth. I think you did intend to disobey me, and I think you did so because you have missed my discipline. Am I correct?”
I am trembling as I reply, utterly startled by his ability to read me. “Perhaps, yes, My Lord, but I did not want for you to be angry with me.”
He smiles. “Lydia,” he coos. “I am not angry. But you and I both know what happens to naughty, disobedient young ladies, don’t we?”
My mouth parts reflexively. “Will you spank me?” I whimper.
“Yes,” he says, pulling me toward him as he reseats himself. “I realise that I have been remiss in my duties to you, and for that I apologise. I intend to make amends right this moment.”
In an instant he pulls me forward and down toward his lap. “But, My Lord!” I exclaim as I lurch headfirst over his breeches. “Not here, Thomas! What if somebody finds us?”
“We have had this conversation, Lydia,” he says firmly as he hoists me into position, “and I have assured you that I will spank you either with, or without, an audience.”
I gasp, feeling the skirts of my gown, petticoat, and stays dragged up my back, leaving my behind exposed and vulnerable. Almost immediately, his hand lands against my bare skin, the sound resonating around the study. I squeeze my eyes shut, stunned by the escalation of events. I pray silently that none of the staff will hear us and enter the room unexpectedly.
A further four swats are landed on my bottom, and they are hard and intense spanks. I am forced to bear each one, feeling the sting and then warmth they leave after his palm has left. From this angle behind his desk I can see very little, except for the expensive rug at my fingertips.
As the next strike lands, I hear Thomas’ voice from over my head. “Why are you being spanked, Lydia?” he asks.
I notice his voice is calm, but there is just the slight edge of arousal laced there.
“I was disobedient, My Lord,” I reply, my own voice trembling as I do.
“Yes,” he agrees, swatting me hard on the rear again. “You disobeyed me in order to get the attention you require, instead of coming to me and telling me about your needs.”
His hand lands on my behind again. “And for that reason, little one,” he says firmly, “you will receive a sound spanking on your bare bottom, and you will thank me for it.”
I whimper as the next strike lands, catching the pulsating need between my legs. “Yes, My Lord,” I moan from over his lap. “Thank you.”
Five swats land quickly, and instinctively I mean to get up, arching my back as I try to move.
His hand holds me down decisively. “You will stay over my lap, Lydia,” he calls out, and I flinch at the volume, hoping that nobody else will hear him. “You need this punishment, do you not?”
“Yes,” I whine, wincing as the next spank lands.
“Yes, you do,” he says, reaffirming my own thoughts. “So just take it, little one.”
I swallow hard, loathing the way he calls me his little one as he spanks me. The label, of course, helps to reinforce my subservience to him. The onslaught continues, and the stinging sensation is intense. He pushes me on, the utter indignation of the punishment both riling and arousing me. At some point I lose count of the swats, feeling the tension between my legs growing and building. I know I am wet, and I long secretly for Thomas to explore me there.
His palm eventually pauses, pressing itself against the warmth of my bare bottom. “How do you feel now, my love?” His voice is filled with passion.
“Thank you for my spanking, Thomas,” I murmur, unsure what else to say.
I hear him laugh, and slowly, teasingly, his fingers dip between my hot cheeks.
“Well done, my love,” he soothes, as one and then two digits slip against my wetness.
I mewl and groan, loving the intensity of his touch already.
“So wet and beautiful,” he whispers adoringly. “I yearn for our wedding night, Lydia, when I can finally possess you as a man should claim his wife.”
In anticipation for the weekend, I am pleased to host the awesome Sara Fields, and her recent red-hot sci-fi erotic romance, Her Alien Doctors. Check out the details of this sizzling story below…
After nineteen-year-old Jenny Monroe is caught stealing from the home of a powerful politician, she is sent to a special prison in deep space to be trained for her future role as an alien’s bride.
Despite the public bare-bottom spanking she receives upon her arrival at the detention centre, Jenny remains defiant, and before long she earns herself a trip to the notorious medical wing of the facility. Once there, Jenny quickly discovers that a sore bottom will now be the least of her worries, and soon enough she is naked, restrained, and shamefully on display as three stern, handsome alien doctors examine and correct her in the most humiliating ways imaginable.
The doctors are experts in the treatment of naughty young women, and as Jenny is brought ever closer to the edge of a shattering climax only to be denied again and again, she finds herself begging to be taken in any way they please. But will her captors be content to give Jenny up once her punishment is over, or will they decide to make her their own and master her completely?
Publisher’s Note: Her Alien Doctors is the second book in the Captive Brides series. It includes spankings and sexual scenes. If such material offends you, please don’t buy this book.
How hot does this book sound? 😉 If you agree, then brace yourself for this tantalising teaser…
“I was hoping we wouldn’t have to start out on the wrong foot, but I can see you’re going to need a firmer hand than most of our patients here. Now, where could you have hidden the rest of the implements?” His gaze focused back on her.
She shrugged and turned away, refusing to meet his questioning eyes. Feeling his presence move closer, she shivered and held her breath. His hand reached out and gently, yet firmly, grasped her upper forearm, forcing her to stand. With his other arm, he lifted the mattress, revealing the rest of the implements she had hidden there. Swallowing nervously, she peeked up to see his expression and quickly looked away when she saw his stern disappointment.
“Now, that’s awfully naughty for a young lady like you to do, hmmm?” He picked up each one up and returned them to the drawer, each one making a loud and awful sound as it dropped down onto the wooden bottom. Chewing at her lip, she nervously waited for whatever was to happen next.
She watched anxiously as he righted the mattress and put it back into place. His hands reached back into the drawer and pulled out the brown leather paddle and tossed it on the bed. In a whirlwind of movement, he sat down on the bed and threw her over his lap. In a fraction of a second, her nightgown was pushed up to the small of her back and her panty-clad bottom was in his full view.
“No! You can’t do this,” she exclaimed, growing angrier with each passing moment. She reached back and tried to cover herself with her hand, but that only resulted in him capturing her wrist within his broad fingers. “No! Stop it! You can’t spank me, you… you asshole!”
“Such language. Sean isn’t going to like that. I suggest you learn to curb your tongue unless you want to be punished frequently.”
She jumped when his warm fingers caressed the curve of her lower backside, almost like an unspoken promise that they were about to cause pain to the sensitive skin back there.
“Your file indicates that you’ve been spanked quite a few times since your arrival, isn’t that right, Jenny?”
“Whatever, just get it over with,” she huffed with false bravado. She glared at the floor as her annoyance grew to higher levels. As usual, she could feel her traitorous body responding to the idea of discipline, something she had noticed the very first time she’d been punished by one of the guards.
Her breathing deepened as she pressed her thighs closer together, sensing the wetness that was already gathering there. The first time that happened, she thought it had been just a fluke, but when it happened a second and third time, she knew that something was wrong with her. Spankings were supposed to deter her from behaving badly, but instead her body seemed to desire them, even crave them. She felt so ashamed of herself.
As his fingers lay calmly against her skin, she couldn’t help but moan softly in anticipation. Her bottom cheeks tingled, knowing that her pale white skin was soon to turn a cherry red. His palm patted gently a few times on each side and she stiffened, held tight against his thighs. She was distinctly aware of just how large his hand was as it cupped her ass, noting that it seemed to cover one entire side all by itself.
“Please don’t,” she begged, her voice much softer than before.
“All you have to do is behave, Jenny, and you’ll be able to avoid punishments such as the one you are about to receive. A spanking will be good for your attitude and your well-being. You must accept that you are no longer in charge. Now, no more arguing. It’s time for your first punishment under my care.”
Her whole body tensed when his warm palm left her skin. The first spank seemed to echo loudly off the walls and by the time the second one sounded, she felt the sting hit her at last and she shrieked.
“Ouch!” she cried out. “I’ll be good, I promise!”
Find out if Jenny can be good by grabbing your copy here!
She was running from Beau to protect him, but he would not let her escape.
Today, I am pleased to introduce, Ruby Caine to my blog. She’s here to feature her new release, Running from her fate ( book four of The Spirits of River Oaks series.)
In the book, Beauregard St. Pierre needs to find his run-away fiancée before she gets hurt. A fake psychic has filled her head with foolish nonsense. Generally, not one to leave his job and responsibilities for any length of time, he is determined to locate Belle quickly so they can return to New Orleans.
Anabelle Simar’s life changed drastically after she met Madame Claudette. She found the man of her dreams and inherited a tidy sum of money, all after the gifted psychic predicted the events. It is only natural to run away when the same woman warns Belle she puts her lover at great risk.
The couple ends up at River Oaks, where Madame Lenore regularly communicates with spirits. At first, she does not see any danger, but every time Beau and Belle visit for another reading, his fate is altered in disastrous ways.
Will sweet Anabelle really stab, burn and shoot the man she loves? Can Beau protect himself and the woman he loves? Will their love hold them together against the odds, real or invented?
Publisher’s Note: This adult romance has elements of humor, mystery, suspense, paranormal happenings, sexual scenes, adult language and discipline of adult women. If any of these elements offend you, please do not purchase.
Read the tantalising teaser here, and then go grab yourself a copy…
“Do you really think I bullied you? Be honest.” Those piercing eyes didn’t miss a thing as he watched her. His words drew her attention and she almost felt like crying in frustration. Sighing in defeat, she turned away from him again. Beau continued speaking, not giving her a chance to build up another wall between them. “This is ridiculous, Belle. This whole situation is foolish. Come home with me and let’s put this whole thing behind us.”
“I can’t and you know why,” she told him before rummaging through her cabinets and pulling out a small coffee maker.
“Because you’re convinced you are going to harm me? I’m sorry, babe, but that’s bullshit!”
“Madame Claudette had a vision. She’s never been wrong. Believe me, I prayed and prayed she was mistaken, but I can’t take a chance with your safety. I love you too much for that, Beau. I’d rather be miserable without you, knowing you are safe, than happily at your side and watch you be hurt.”
A man can only take so much frustration when trying to reason with his lover. Beau had finally passed his threshold. “Talking is getting us nowhere. I am tired of trying to reason with you, Belle. You love me. I love you. We are getting married. Decades from now, I will enjoy telling our grandchildren how I had to chase their stubborn grandmother across the state until she finally realized she belonged at my side.”
He glanced around the room for a suitable place to carry out his next plan of action. The coffee table and stool close to the microwave looked too flimsy to hold his frame, let alone both their w
eights. He had serious concerns about the sturdiness of the double bed, too. But the latter would have to make do. Grabbing her hand, he pulled Belle toward the frame.
Set in Victorian London, 1898, Lord McCaulay falls under the enchantment of Mademoiselle Noire, entering a dark spiral of obsession. Meanwhile, his path intersects that of young aristocrat Maud, as she struggles to assert her identity against the domination of men.
Emmanuelle tells us:
I’ve always been a huge fan of the ‘old-skool’ Gothic Romances. Mystery, family curses and secrets, and a good dollop of temptation and seduction, too. I can’t get enough!
I realized that, of course, I should write my own!
And the Noire trilogy is the result.
Part one is set in 1898, in London, the second takes us to an Italian castle, perched on its own secluded island, and the third unfolds upon a trans-Atlantic cruise-liner.
I’m utterly in love with the characters in this series: arrogant British Lord McCaulay, and the fiendish Lorenzo, Conte di Cavour, not to mention the enigmatic Mademoiselle Noire, and feisty Lady Maud Franchingham. There’s intrigue at every turn!