In this week, the NeverEnding Blog Tour brings us PK Corey, a hot spanking romance that will definitely heat up your kindle.
After thirty-five years, Susan thought her marriage was over the morning after their last child’s wedding. Hal, her husband, said he needed to talk about something important. She knew it couldn’t be good. They rarely even spoke anymore. In the beginning they’d been so close, so passionate. Practicing domestic discipline had been a wonderful part of their lives—sometimes. But over the years it had all drifted away, even when Susan asked for what she needed. He would occasionally give her a mild, sexy spanking, but the real discipline she craved was a thing of the past. Now, Hal suddenly wanted to talk about moving to Colorado to live in Corbin’s Bend, a community where spanking was not only accepted, but encouraged. Could this bring back the closeness and passion they’d once had? Could Susan trust that this time Hal would truly step up?
Excerpt
Quincy waited until they both had a mug of coffee, then she sat at the table. She seemed to be waiting for Susan to speak. Finally, Susan said, “How have you been, Quincy?”
“I’m fine,” she stated. “However, it seems you’ve gone underground. I never see you out anymore. You’ve been here a while now. How are things going with you?”
“Fine with me too. I’m busy and haven’t been getting out as much, but everything’s fine,” Susan insisted.
Quincy didn’t look convinced, she looked concerned. Susan felt the urge to run. If Quincy said something kind or sweet, she would break down. She could feel the slight burning in her eyes, warning of tears.
No! she told herself fiercely. She sipped her coffee and forced a smile to her face. Her mentor wasn’t having it. “Please tell me what’s bothering you. Maybe I can help.” “Nothing’s wrong. Hal’s very happy. He’s…”
“I didn’t ask about Hal. I asked about you.”
It wasn’t going to work. She wasn’t going to be able to hold the tears back.
“Hal is happy. Corbin’s Bend is wonderful. It’s full of spankos, fun for all. It’s fucking awesome!” Susan concluded, bursting into tears.
Quincy said nothing. She reached for a box of tissues and placed it on the table and let Susan cry.
Finally, Susan spoke again. “I wish we’d never come here. I thought he’d stick to it with all these spanking role models. But it’s just the same, except now everyone else has what I want. It’s worse than being alone with my needs.”
“Has Hal stopped spanking you?”
“Oh no, he spanks me every time he wants sex.”
Quincy said nothing, letting the words hang in the air.
“You know the outside world would view us all as odd balls, Quincy. And now I feel like the odd ball within the group. Most women here would love what I have. I only get spanked for fun or for sex. Who wouldn’t love that?” Susan snapped.
“You,” Quincy answered.
Author Bio
After spending thirty-six years in two careers I liked just fine, I’ve finally found my dream career as a writer. I’ve been happily married for thirty-five-years and my sweet husband has gotten used to the unique experience of living with a writer. He is very encouraging and an excellent editor when he’s pressed into service.
I’ve been intrigued by spanking stories since before I first saw Ricky spank Lucy. Stories of this nature were hard to come by before the Internet and the ones I found were a little harsh on discipline and very much lacking in love. So, I made up my own stories and enjoyed these in my head for years. I finally began writing them down. Although the lovely women in my stories are spanked often, the love between them and their men takes top priority.
My Cassie’s Space series shows a mature couple who are deeply in love. Despite loving Cassie’s free-spirited ways, Tom is determined to keep her safe, even if it takes a trip over his knee. And with her friend Sue by her side and all they get into, a trip over his knee is very likely. My new series, Cal’s Law, is about a younger couple. Though they come from very different backgrounds, love and discipline draw them together.
I love my husband, my kids, my cats, reading, writing and hearing from my readers. You can contact me at pk.corey@yahoo.com
In this week’s NeverEnding Blog Post, we have Sierra Brave and her new shifter romance ‘Bridling Lucy’.
Stubborn, prideful and self-disciplined, Chance Locklear believes his way is always right, and he doesn’t like hiccups is in his strict routine so when the matriarch of his equine-shifter clan saddles him with a spoiled, twenty-one-year-old brat from out-of-town, he’s none too pleased.
While growing up as a member of a rogue-shifter clan, Lucy Tate didn’t have the luxury of an easy or predictable life, but she’s learned to live with her parent’s self-centered behavior causing problems for her or leaving her in the lurch. When her step-father’s latest hijinks force her to abandon her job as a blackjack dealer and skip town, she resents having to live with a stranger and work as a maid while hiding out. To make matters worse, she’s been placed in the care of an arrogant but sexy game warden/werehorse who demands her respect.
The first time Chance pulled her over his lap for a spanking, she was shocked and angry, but her body reacted to his touch in a completely different way. Just as the two begin to give into their shared attraction and admit they are fated mates, outside forces show up to pull them apart. Will destiny, love, and amazing sex be enough to save their relationship?
Excerpt
Lucy sat with her arms folded across her chest and her bottom lip poking out as she stared out the passenger-side window. Despite her sour mood, Horse Mountain’s rustic scenery enchanted her—beautiful cabins, both big and small, grassy pastures, and lush evergreens abounded for as far as the eye could see. This would be a nice place for a vacation if I wasn’t practically being kidnapped. She shook her head as she tried to fathom how she’d been uprooted from her comfortable life by no fault of her own. Mama might as well be carting me off to prison. She licked her bottom lip as she pressed her forehead against the cool glass.
“Oh, come on now. It’s not as bad as all that?” Dory Crane continued driving.
“As all what?” She kept her attention on the greenery. If she saw her mother’s face, her anger might transform into sadness and she didn’t want to cry.
Her mom huffed. “You with the silent treatment up here and the refusal to so much as meet my gaze.”
Lucy’s nostrils flared. “You’re lucky I’m too old for an Amber Alert. How am I supposed to react when you’re sending me off to the middle of nowhere to stay with some strange old woman I’ve never even met?”
“She’s a family friend. Her daughter and I attended finishing school together.”
Lucy snorted. “I still can’t believe you went.”
“In my day, all of the girls of our clan were expected to go. It was a very big deal amongst the equine shifters.”
“And look how much it taught you. Did you even graduate?” She practically spat her words.
“Your mama knows how to behave like a lady when she needs to.”
“So this woman isn’t even kin?”
“No, but she is an equine shifter. One of her sons was good friends with your birth father.”
She gasped, finally turning to look at her mom. Her mother’s husband had raised her, and most of the time, Lucy claimed him as her daddy, but she longed to know more about her biological father. Trouble was her mama was always tight-lipped when it came to the subject. “My dad? Does he live around here? Can I meet him?”
Dory shrugged. “Can we not talk about him? Nothing you learn will make you happy.”
She locked her index fingers together while pulling her hands close to her chest. “I wonder if he looked for me.”
“He might have if he’d known about you, but I was only three months along and not showing yet. Telling him would have just complicated our separation and eventual divorce.”
Lucy’s jaw dropped and she fought not to shed the tears welling up in her eyes. She pursed her lips and stared straight ahead, taking a deep breath. “I don’t know how you could do such a horrible thing.”
Dory frowned, knitting her eyebrows. “So self-righteous! One of these days you’ll realize when it comes to our kind, the head can’t always control the heart. Getting involved before finding your one true mate is dangerous.”
Lucy opened her mouth as if she were gagging and made a retching sound while pointing her finger toward the back of her throat. “Please stop talking.”
“Excuse me? At least I’m not pushing you into an arranged marriage the way my father did to me.”
“Sorry, but I don’t want to hear your selfish reasons for running off with a gambling-addicted coyote shifter.”
“Hush your flapping lips. You know Craw didn’t start playing the slots until after we left Mississippi.”
Lucy huffed. “You mean after we got run out of Biloxi because of your low-rent fortune teller con jobs?” Her mom shot her a nasty look but didn’t deny the accusation. Lucy held her left wrist with her right hand while shaking her head. “Either way, I’m being forced to pay for someone else’s mistake. To think your husband used to actually be a pretty good dad. Now, not so much.”
Her mama’s head jerked to the side as she threw a furious look Lucy’s way, complete with narrowed eyes. “Stop testing my patience, Lucy Abigail Tate.”
I hit a nerve. Lucy tried not to smirk. Her mama couldn’t tolerate any bad-mouthing of the love of her life, regardless of how true the words rang. Crawford “Craw” Crane continually proved himself to be a turd in the punch bowl, but her mama always defended him and probably would continue to until her dying breath. “Why’d you give me his name instead of Craw’s?”
Her mother pressed her lips together. “Legally, I was still married to him when you were born so Tate was my last name, but can we please drop the subject? Your daddy, Craw, the man who looked after you like his own blood from the minute you were born—He loves you. He thinks he’s doing right by you.” She shook her finger at Lucy. “I just don’t agree. A girl needs to wait for the one.”
“The one,” Lucy mimicked while rolling her eyes. “I still think this is crazy. It’s not like I couldn’t just flat out refuse Grayson.”
“Hmm, I wonder if you’d be able to stand strong if the patriarch got involved. Would you tell him no?” Without waiting for Lucy to answer, Dory reached toward her. She flinched but relaxed as her mother fingered a strand of her hair. “I like the color.”
She gritted her teeth, fresh anger filling her gut as she recalled her mom forcing a bleach job on her in a crappy hotel room about midway through the trip. “I miss my red.” She jerked her head away from her mother’s touch.
“If Craw or any of the Vegas-clan tries to find you, they’ll be looking for a ginger, not a towhead.”
Vegas-clan…Lucy let the words scratch at her brain. When she was younger, she hadn’t realized a bunch of different types of weres joining a clan under a “Boss” patriarch was weird. Now she understood most clans were matriarchal, and Mr. Black’s operation was similar to organized crime groups with their Godfathers.
Her mom pulled up in the driveway of a lovely one-story cabin surrounded by tall trees before turning off the engine. “Now you mind Ms. Banks. Do whatever chores you’re assigned.”
“I’m not afraid of hard work though I guess my real job will be filled by the time I return home…that is if I don’t die out here in Hickville, USA.”
“You shouldn’t say such things, sweetie. Mama’s going to get everything fixed up.” Her mother patted her arm, but Lucy yanked away from her. “I’ll get your daddy straight and find another way to settle his debt, but you better not go talking any trash about him.” All the tenderness of her touch seemed to have faded as she wagged her finger again. “I can’t have any of my old clan, particularly my kin or some of the nosey strumpets I graduated high school with, getting any word of Craw’s misstep. Stick to the story. You hear me?”
Lucy’s blood boiled. “So it’s alright for a bunch of people you haven’t said a single word to in years to think your daughter’s some kind of out-of-control hoodlum as long as they don’t find out the truth about your crappy husband?”
Dory pointed her boney finger at her again, shaking it about an inch from Lucy’s face. “I asked if you heard me, girl.”
“I got it.” The corners of Lucy’s mouth turned down and her shoulders drooped as she huffed.
“Good.”
“With any luck, I’ll get the money from my daddy, and you’ll be home in no time.”
Lucy’s eyes widened and she nearly snapped her neck while jerking her head around to look at her mother’s face. “My granddaddy? Can I meet him?”
Her mom’s eyes rounded and she smirked. “Depends on if he’ll give me the money.”
She tightened her closed lips, squinting slightly. “So you’ll ransom a visit from me?”
Her mom smiled. “Whatever it takes.”
Author Info
Sierra Brave is a multi-published author of smoking hot romance. She writes across genres, dabbling in a little bit of everything, including ménage and BDSM. Her love of erotic fiction started in her last year of high school when she first read the sensual classic, Fanny Hill. She felt so naughty yet liberated with her copy tucked away in her book bag and hopes her work will have the same delicious effect on her readers.
Thank you so much for inviting me, Felicity, and for helping me celebrate the re-release of erotic romance, If You Can’t Handle the Heat
Somebody’s about to get burned…
The Blurb: An unlikely couple is brought together as celebrity judges on a new reality-based cookingshow. Sesto Théodore, is an arrogant yet well respected American-Italian chef, with several five-star restaurants.Once bitten, twice shy, Syn Fully, is a jaded author of erotica, rocketing her way up all the best sellers lists.From the moment Syn and Sesto meet, their personalities clash, yet behind the scenes sparks fly. Getting together would be a recipe for disaster, but hot sex with no-strings couldn’t hurt. At least not until real feelings get involved.
But just when Syn considers opening her damaged heart to the cocky chef, video of ratherpersonal content is leaked online. Sesto immediately jumps to conclusions and accuses Syn of the privacy breach.Can the arrogant chef forgive and forget, or will his pride leave him out in the cold?
Possible Triggers: Please note one scene contains borderline bdsm and dubious consent/forcible confinement. Also in this story intimate video is obtained without the knowledge or consent of the participants involved, and later distributed online
Author’s Note: This erotic story has been previously published with the title, If YouCan’t Stand the Heat. Though there is a little bit of added content, the story remains relatively the same. It has been re-edited and re-formatted for re-release, and has a sizzling new cover thanks to Studioenp
+18 Excerpt
Gingerly, Sesto took the seat beside Syn. He pulled on his pant leg at the knee, trying to adjust the tightness strangling his crotch.“Quiet!” The director called.The emcee began to introduce the judges.The camera landed first on the hockey player, Maksim, and his gap-toothed grin. After about twenty seconds they panned to Syn, who smiled seductively into the lens.
Sesto was next. He was about to give a dignified nod in greeting, but Syn chose that particular moment to drag a long red fingernail slowly up his thigh. A jolt of sensation went straight to his balls. She paused at the crease of his leg.His cool smile slipped into more of a grimace. Luckily the cameraman didn’t stay with him too long, but swung back to Jeff, the host, who explained the rules and stages of the competition to a non-existent television audience.Sesto held his breath wondering what Syn might do next. In one way, he hoped that was the extent of groping, in another way…Syn took the heel of her hand on a deliberate torturous journey down the length of his rock-hard cock. Damn it, he should just put a stop to this insanity!One of the culinary assistants walked across the stage with a large tray of assorted sliced vegetables. All the while, Syn molded her fingers around the very shape of his shaft, stroking the outline through his trousers, learning every inch. Sesto’s eyes almost crossed. He clenched his jaw, but an uncontrollable growl of pleasure mixed with irritation rattled through his chest.Syn responded with a low hum. She leaned in closer and exerted more pressure before she went after his zipper, raking her fingernail over the teeth. The buzz sound seemed overly loud in the quiet studio, but the vibration it created against his distended flesh stirred him even more.Sesto was certain Maksim had heard it and he was probably aware of Syn’s hand moving under the table.Syn toyed with the pull-tab on his fly. Christ! Would she or wouldn’t she unzip his pants and unleash his stiff dick? His cock throbbed at the thought of her stroking him with the whole crew present. Sesto clenched his muscles and tried to calm himself. At that instant, the kid holding the tray of food tripped over one of the many electrical cords taped along the floorboards. The enormous platter clattered to the floor sending the colorful veggies tumbling.The frustrated director yelled, “Cut! Damn it, Chase, tape those fucking cords down better, will ya!”Chase scurried to do Ken’s bidding.Sesto took the opportunity to turn his wrath on Syn. “May I speak to you out in the hall, please!” he demanded, shooting to his feet.“Of course,” she responded, haughtily, as though she hadn’t just been giving him the initial stages of a hand job under the table.
Sesto allowed Syn to take the lead. He was momentarily captivated by her long shapely legs, as she stalked across the space, confident and oh-so fuckin’ sexy in those red stilettos. Sesto pulled level with her and couldn’t resist the urge to place his hand to the small of her back, left bare by the severe cut of her dress. If he wasn’t mistaken, she’d trembled at the contact. Or was it his hand that quivered?In the corridor, Syn rounded on him, at the same moment he blurted, “What the fuck do you think…”The words died on his tongue, as she once again stroked his shaft through his trousers. Her gaze settled on his mouth. Her breathing was shallow.“Where’s your dressing room?” she asked, backing him up.Sesto grabbed her other wrist and dragged her into the green room, before slamming the door behind them.He yanked her hand, above her head and forced it against the door. He half-expected her to fight. What he wasn’t prepared for was the brazen little smile that hooked her sinful lips, as she raised her arm to join the other. With both hands stretched above her head Syn arched toward him, thrusting her beautiful tits, right in his face.“What the fuck are you doing?” he asked again. “We don’t even know each other.”“I know. Isn’t it wicked…
Author Bio:
H K Carlton is a multi-genre Canadian author of romance, with over thirty titles in publication. From naughty to nice, historical to contemporary, time travel to space travel, and everything in between.Variety is creativity’s playground—It’s where you’ll find me
In this edition of the NeverEnding Blog Tour,Daryl Devoré has their hot medieval romance, Branwyn’s Love.
The tale of a young woman sold as a courtesan in training. Branwyn arrives in a new land to begin daily lessons in the bewildering art of bedding a man.
The noblewoman chosen to be Prince Malacke’s bride rejects him by bedding his hated rival. Malacke turns his anger towards increasing the power and wealth of Black Dorn castle. And he succeeds until his attention is captured by the face of the woman who will be his queen.
“Excellent. Now we begin your first and most important lesson – tragor. In your language, it has many meanings. But I believe duty is a good word. Through your duty, you must submit. Submission is your tragor. Do you understand what that word means?”
“Yes, Duna Trea. I am a very obedient person. When my aunt or uncle requested I do something, I did it without question.”
“But yesterday I told you not to speak to anyone unless spoken to first, yet you disobeyed me. And did it to Gon-Dra Malacke.”
“I am sorry,” said Branwyn. “I was frightened and confused. I…I did not know who he was. But Leah explained these things to me.”
“So, do you state that you understand tragor?”
She closed her eyes and nodded.
“Then stand and remove your upper garments. Unlace your bodice, let it and your sleeves drop to your waist.”
With trembling fingers, Branwyn tried to comply, but the laces refused to undo.
Duna Trea waited while Branwyn fumbled with the laces. “Now your shift. Expose your body.”
Branwyn’s muscles stiffened. A chill swept through her. “But I will be naked! One should not expose one’s body to another. It is against the—”
A flash of anger filled Duna Trea’s eyes.
Remembering Leah’s instructing and her discomfort, Branwyn did not want to cause any more pain to her. Surely, Duna Trea knows it is wrong to expose oneself. She paused, hoping her duna would rescind the order.
“Tragor.” One anger-filled word hung in the room.
Eyes squeezed shut, and bottom lip trembling, she reached for the bow to loosen the front of her shift, tugged on the right sleeve and removed her right arm. She gripped the material in her underarm and lowered the left sleeve. Placing her arms in front of her breasts, hands clasped under her chin, she raised her elbows, letting the material drop.
“Lower your arms.”
Three simple words cut Branwyn like knives. She tried to drop her arms, but the muscles refused to obey. Tears slipped between closed lids and trickled down her cheeks.
“Tragor, Dune.”
With every muscle fibre fighting the motion, Branwyn lowered her arms but held her hands clasped before her.
“Place your hands behind your back. Complete exposure. Good girl. Now step this way.”
Duna Trea stood next to Malacke.
Wiping her eyes with the back of her hand, Branwyn stepped over and stood next to Trea. “Have you ever touched a man?”
I’m a hot romance writer, with several sexy books published and more to come.
I am also a sweet romance writer with several great reads and more to come. When I’m not writing I’m either at yoga or belly dance unless it’s summer and then I’m gardening.Fans can find me on MEWe, Facebook and Twitter, Google+, Pinterest, and Goodreads.
In this week’s NeverEnding Blog Tour, Kryssie Fortune has a new release!
As a breeder–one of the few fertile women left in a ruined, plague-ravaged world–Cassie would fetch a handsome price at auction, and selling her to the highest bidder was exactly what her captors had in mind… until two fearsome beasts decided to take her for themselves.
Eli and Dane have chosen Cassie for their mate, and when she makes a foolish attempt at escape she quickly ends up tearfully promising obedience as her bare bottom is soundly and shamefully punished. Her body’s response to their stern dominance cannot be denied, however, and it isn’t long before she is screaming out her intense, helpless pleasure as she is roughly and thoroughly claimed. But will Eli and Dane’s pack accept a human girl or will Cassie be an outsider forever?
Eli smirked as he leaned against the nearest boulder. Beside him, Dane grinned like a schoolboy. Once he’d shoved his hair from his face, Eli turned to Cassie. “You owe us a forfeit. Lie on the blanket and make yourself come.”
They both growled when she shook her head and looked around for her clothes. “No way. Never. I can’t do that, not with you watching.”
Dane’s gaze smoldered with heat. “We won, and you owe us.”
Aware of Dane’s joy, Eli felt a weight lift from his shoulders. Around Cassie, his brother seemed freer and wilder, more the way he’d been before the incident scarred his face. If Cassie hadn’t already claimed his heart, he’d love her for making Dane smile. She was the perfect mate for them, and come the next full moon, they’d claim her as theirs. They just needed to bring their pack mates home. That and prepare her for public nudity and ropes.
“Do all humans welch on their bets?” he teased.
Cassie shook her head. “I’m embarrassed. Can’t I pay my forfeit another way?”
Face faux stern, eyes shining, Eli pulled himself erect. “Lie on the blanket. Let us see you finger your beautiful nipples until they bead. I want to see their red tips hard and pointy.”
Chewing at her lower lip, she sank onto the blanket. Eli’s eyes shone in excitement. Even Dane looked expectant and happy as he commanded, “Lie back and pluck at your nipples. Tease them until they turn hard.”
Slowly, hesitantly, she cupped her breasts. The delighted smile on his brother’s face made Eli want to turn cartwheels and cheer. Unaware of Eli’s scrutiny, Dane’s gaze never left her face.
“Pinch your nipples,” Dane ordered.
Closing her eyes, she stroked and pinched them as he’d demanded. Her nipples hardened instantly.
Eli sounded hoarse when he commanded, “I want you looking at us when you come. Open your eyes.”
Her cheeks turned scarlet, but she did as he’d said.
“Good girl,” Eli praised. “Is your sweet cunny wet yet? Spread your legs and let me see your cum smearing your thighs. It’s thick and creamy, a delicious treat that spills out of your pussy.”
About Kryssie Fortune
Kryssie lives by the beach and loses track of time when she writes. Her days are full of dashing regency rakes, former soldiers so handsome they make her drool, and the sexiest werewolves ever. The odd vampire makes it in there too, but when he does, he’s drop dead gorgeous.
Her pet hates are unhappy endings and cliff hangers. She guarantees you won’t find either in her books. Her books sizzle with sensual heat, but story always comes before sex. Even when part of a series, her books can be read as stand-alone romance.
This week in the Never Ending Blog Tour, BJ Wane is celebrating their newest release!
One look into his intent, cobalt gaze and her heated response made her forget her troubles.
Sydney Greenbriar finds more than she bargained for when she gets lost on her way to report for a new job and finds herself at a BDSM club. Peering in through the window, her attention, and libido are both snagged by one man delivering some old-fashioned discipline to a young blonde. After he runs her off, both are surprised to discover she is the new cook he’d hired for his ranch.
Caden MacGregor wanted to turn away the cheeky woman he’d caught spying on his club without remorse, but desperation for a cook forced his hand. Sydney proved to be a definite asset to his employees, and a royal pain in his butt. Somehow, her penchant for getting lost and landing in trouble, along with her determination to return to the club as a guest, soon slid past his resistance.
It took a threat to Sydney and unearthing the truth about what made her flee her home in Missouri to force them to admit their feelings and get her to stay as more than his cook.
The cheeky grin Sydney flipped Caden shouldn’t have surprised him, or her easy compliance when she turned her head back down and waited for his retribution. Had she kicked and screamed for him to let her go, he would’ve done so, but when had the girl reacted as he thought she should? Knowing it was a mistake and may very well end up crossing a line he couldn’t cross back over, he swatted her right buttock, the red imprint he left behind showing with vivid brightness against her lily-white skin. The terror that sent him speeding down to the corral wouldn’t abate, his mind still reeling from all the injuries she could’ve sustained with that foolhardy stunt. He spanked her other cheek and enjoyed the bounce of the soft globe and her shifting hips way too much. “Had enough?” he asked, rubbing his hand over the warm, smooth flesh.
“Would you stop if we were at The Barn and I was your sub?” she returned with a slight catch in her voice.
“Hell, no.” He refused to lie even if doing so would be in his best interest.
“Then pretend I am and don’t stop… please.”
He sighed, her whispered plea sealing both their fate. “Remember, I warned you to be careful about what you ask for.” Caden proceeded to give her what she thought she wanted ever since he’d caught her spying and caved to what he’d been itching to do.
With a volley of sharp smacks, he peppered Sydney’s ass until the pink tinge turned a deep red, her warm skin grew hot and her quiet mewls erupted into louder cries. She shifted with a moan when he stopped to rub the abused mounds. After soothing the sting, he gave her time to adjust to the soreness by palming the plump curve of one crimson cheek. She had a perfect shaped ass with soft, malleable buttocks that had clenched with each spank then softened as she adjusted to the pain. Then she shifted again, lifting into his hand, and he barely heard another whispered entreaty of ‘please’ that drew his eyes to her glistening seam. “You continue to surprise me, darlin’.”
Sydney whipped her face around, shaking her hair out of her drenched eyes. “Does that mean…”
Caden squeezed her buttock and drew a yelp from her by delivering a final, blistering swat. “You’re new to this and don’t realize how sore you’ll be. Sit up.” Her face mirrored the color of her ass, but it was the blatant need reflected in her dilated eyes that tempted him to change the tone of this lesson and reward her, and that would not do. His actions were meant as a deterrent, not a pleasurable interlude. “Next time you disobey a rule, you’ll get a taste of my belt.” Ignoring the desire to sink his fingers between those enticing, plump, damp folds, he stood her up and pulled up her panties and jeans. Standing, he lowered his Stetson and headed to the door, saying without looking back, “I have work to do.”
Connor stood waiting for him by the corral when he stepped outside, a knowing grin playing around his mouth as he handed Caden the reins to his steed. “Not a word, got it?” Caden snapped in warning.
“Wouldn’t dream of it, brother.”
Learn more about BJ Wane
I live in the Midwest with my husband and our dog, a lovable Great Pyrenees/Standard Poodle. I love dogs, enjoy spending time with my daughter, babysitting dogs and kids, reading and working puzzles. We have traveled extensively throughout the states, Canada and just once overseas, but I now prefer being a homebody. I worked for a while writing articles for a local magazine but soon found my interest in writing for myself peaking. My first book was strictly spanking erotica, but I slowly evolved to writing erotic spanking romance with a touch of suspense. My favorite genre to read is suspense.
This week in the Never Ending Blog Tour, we have Libby Campbell and her new release His Land, His Lair.
Since she inherited her parents’ home, Cara Eckford has used walks in the nearby woods as inspiration for her art, so she is shocked and upset upon finding that ‘No Trespassing’ signs have recently been put up on the property. But when she angrily confronts the land’s new owner, the infuriatingly sexy Luke McCrae, she merely earns herself a stern scolding and a sound spanking. Despite her irritation, Luke’s bold dominance leaves Cara’s heart racing and her panties soaked. He soon proves more than ready to tame her fiery temper with his belt applied to her bare bottom, but even with tears in her eyes and her backside on fire Cara’s need for Luke cannot be denied, and when he takes her in his arms his masterful lovemaking satisfies her deeply. Cara’s newfound romance with Luke grows stronger and more passionate with each passing day, but when conflict over his plans for her beloved forest threatens to tear them apart, can she make use of her powerful connection to both of their ancestors to convince him to change his mind?
Everything that was good and right in Cara’s world was because of the serenity on this small corner of Salt Spring Island. Land that should have been hers, lost through a tragedy one hundred years ago, was slipping through her family hands again.
“Don’t talk to me like that, please.” Luke’s voice low and authoritative.
“I’ll talk to you any way I fucking well please.”
He was six inches taller than her and at least forty pounds heavier. Cara didn’t care. She was angry at the No Trespassing signs. She was angry at the news that he wouldn’t sell to her. When he had the nerve to tell her not to swear, her temper detonated. Sparks of silvery hot rage popped in her peripheral vision.
She looked over his shoulder and gasped, as though something was behind him. When he turned to see what it was, she braced herself in horse stance, clenched her hand into a fist, and drove a hard punch into his gut. It was like pounding concrete.
“Ah, you’re a scrapper, are you?” He recoiled sharply before closing the gap between them and wrapping an arm around her waist. The cedar and smoke scent of him filled her head as he planted one foot on a large boulder and deftly flipped her over his knee. “You need to learn some manners,” he said, lifting the hem of her skirt.
Cool air breezed across the top of Cara’s thighs as the blood rushed to her head. Her long hair hung down, coiling in the dried arbutus leaves beneath her.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” she shrieked with outrage, kicking her legs and flailing her arms. He pinned her to his left knee, trapping her kicking legs under his muscular right thigh.
“Don’t you dare touch me!” she said, trying to right herself.
“You mean like this?” He smacked her panty-clad bottom hard. “Or this?” His hand fell on the top of her thighs. His hands felt as big as dinner plates and hard as wood. One smack followed another. When she reached back and swatted against the blows, he caught her wrists together and pinned them in the small of her back.
Cara’s breath whooshed out of her lungs at the sensation of being bent to his will. She forced herself to start breathing again as he smacked her bottom rhythmically and unrelentingly.
“Stop it!” she demanded, between swats. Luke ignored her. She barely caught her breath after one slap, when another followed. Conflicting sensations of desire and resentment churned as her bottom started to sting.
She was strong, but he was much stronger. She twisted and writhed but never enough to break away. After what felt like an eternity of spanking, the only thing registering on her consciousness was his hard hand raining down on her buttocks and thighs. Time, as she knew it, stopped.
Libby Campbell in her own words:
I’m in love with love. My romance stories feature strong, self-reliant women who challenge the powerful men who love them.
My books are set in the Pacific Northwest, a part of the world I know well and love deeply.
I’ve lived all over Canada, but the best decision of my life was when I moved to Australia to marry my leading man. After many years there, we moved back to the Pacific Northwest. We now live in a leafy neighborhood close to the sea.
My passions are reading and writing. I also love hiking, beachcombing, and an occasional night of dancing.
Katya Dostoevsky is a “little” and the young, submissive mistress of a Russian mobster. Posing as a mercenary, Simon Tolliver is a forty-five-year-old British operative who’s been ordered to kill her.
Neither of them is what they seem.
Sold by human traffickers at the age of 14, Katya has endured eleven years of forced consent, serving the needs of Alexei Papanov, head of the Bratva in upstate New York. She thinks that Simon is taking her toy shopping ahead of Christmas, but he’s been instructed to kill her en route. After what she has suffered, he plans to be her Secret Santa and give her the quick, clean death that she deserves.
It was supposed to be his last night on his last mission before retiring. Instead, this British spy with a gun and a girl on the run embark on a dark, thrilling ride that can only end one way.
Nia Farrell’s way. Yippee ki-yay.
Simon followed Papanov upstairs, past three armed guards and a half-dozen rooms. Stopping short of his private office, the Bratva kingpin opened a door and stepped inside, motioning for Simon to follow.
The room was decorated like a little girl’s dream with a fairytale four-poster bed, an ice cream parlor table and chairs, and an antique baby carriage full of dolls and stuffed toys. An ornate desk sat in front of a bank of curtained windows. Light from the crystal chandelier added to the soft glow from the computer screen of the laptop perched on the thighs of Papanov’s much-younger mistress.
Simon’s cock twitched at the sight of the pretty brunette. Dressed only in a black bra and panties and red fuck-me heels, she sat on an office chair with her face lit and her gaze locked on the screen, oblivious to their presence.
Simon felt like a dirty old man for wishing he could stand there and watch her. He was a spy. He should be focused on Alexei. Instead, he looked at the exquisite turn of Katya’s ankles and imagined them around his neck.
Katya Dostoevsky was twenty-five years old, five feet, three inches, a former gymnast, and an obedient servant to the whims of her master. Sold by her father to Papanov when she was fourteen, she’d grown into a stunning young woman.
Too bad Alexei didn’t share.
Or did he?
“You remember Katya.” His inflection made it a statement rather than a question.
Two sets of eyes darted to Alexei—hers alarmed and his wary. What was Papanov’s game?
Simon schooled his features. “Yes.”
“Myshka, you remember Mr. McCartney?”
She jerked her head in a stiff little nod. “Da.”
She was careful to not look at Simon when she answered. She knew Peter McCartney’s reputation, but she hadn’t really seen what he was capable of. She’d only witnessed a clean kill.
Alexei had backhanded her, busting her lip when she wouldn’t stop crying.
Papanov nodded. “Khorosho. Good. Myshka, I want you to pack a suitcase. Take enough to last you a week. Christmas is coming, and my mouseling wants her favorite bear fixed. I say, it is time for new ones if the old ones fall apart when you ride them. Mr. McCartney will drive you to the apartment in Manhattan. I will finish things here and meet you there. Then we shop, da?”
Interesting. Katya masturbated with teddy bears. Knowing Alexei, he jacked off to the show and made her play the virgin to deflower as an encore.
Simon didn’t miss the look of dismay or the slight tremor that shook her shapely frame. She swallowed the objection on the tip of her tongue and answered meekly, “Da, Papi.”
Alexei’s smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “That’s my good girl. Set your luggage by the hallway door when you have it packed. I want you downstairs and ready to leave in twenty minutes. Come, Peter.”
Katya flew into action, kicking off her heels and sprinting to her closet. Simon followed Papanov to his office one door over. Katya’s room had been chosen for the Pakhan’s convenience. When Alexei got an itch, he wanted it scratched immediately. His personal sex slave was on call around the clock, anytime, day or night, in public or in private.
Alexei thought nothing of ordering Katya to please him while he entertained guests. Humiliating her only added to his pleasure.
“Close the door.”
Simon did as ordered, questions writhing like Medusa’s snakes in his head. He was pissed. Alexei should have asked him first. Instead, he’d told him in front of Katya. Now Simon was stuck driving her down to the city. He’d spend hours on the road and in traffic, closed in a car with a woman he wanted and could never have—
Unless he wanted to spend the rest of his life as a eunuch.
The last man who’d touched her without permission had his balls cut off and shoved up his arse. Simon hadn’t seen it, but he’d heard the story, now shared as a cautionary tale.
“Sit.” Alexei pointed to the closest chair. Simon took it. Papanov did the same, settling into place behind a heavy wooden desk.
They stared at each other, a pissing contest that lasted all of fifteen seconds.
“What the fuck?” Simon growled. This was supposed to be his last night as a spy. The final time he’d risk life and limb for his Queen and country. His goal in recent years was to be the exception to the rule. He knew when he left the SAS and joined the Secret Intelligence Service that spies didn’t live long and prosper. Retirement from MI6 was a three-by-eight piece of land and a bed six feet under, not a secret, off-the-grid cabin in the Great North Woods with a prepper’s pantry, a growing library of first editions, and an arsenal that had taken half of his life to amass.
His trip to Canada would have to wait.
Alexei let his mask drop for a moment so brief, Simon almost missed it. Whatever this was, it wasn’t good.
The head of the Bratva in upstate New York looked out the bank of bullet-proof windows. The clouds obscuring tonight’s full moon did nothing to dilute its effects. Driving Katya to Manhattan was lunacy.
He told Alexei so.
Papanov sighed heavily. “You are right,” he said, sounding weary and oddly torn. “You will not go there. When you leave here, you take her somewhere… and kill her.” He huffed a breath and tapped his fingers on his desk. “I do not need to know details. Send word when it is done.”
Holy fuck.
It was a bloody miracle that Simon managed to look like he didn’t care, that this was just another assignment, no different than the other jobs that he’d done for Papanov. But the men and women he’d killed before had earned it. They were criminals. Rivals. Chechen Mafia. Albanian Mafia. Hell, he’d even killed someone from the Visconti crime family who had somehow given offense.
Alexei narrowed his eyes. “You will do this, da?”
“Of course, I will. I just—”
“You wish to know.” Papanov pursed his lips, considering the wisdom in telling him. He rarely bot-hered with explanations unless his blood pressure was up and he needed to vent.
“She is… too soft for this,” he said, waving an imperious hand. “It was… mistake to bring her here.”
Papanov had had her since she was fourteen. He’d gotten bored or annoyed or both. Clearly, he didn’t like her asking to fix her broken bears. After nine years of statutory rape and forced consent, he was dismissing Katya as casually as a toy that he’d outgrown. The trouble was, he couldn’t pass his plaything down, and he didn’t dare discard her. His mouseling was a liability. She knew too much. She’d seen too much for him to ever let her go.
Learn more about Nia Farrell
Nia Farrell is the author of one of The 50 Best Indie Books of 2016, a four-times Golden Flogger Finalist, and a founding member of the Wicked Pens. A multi-genre writer published in nonfiction, poetry, music, articles, and children’s books, with one documentary screenplay under her literary belt, she’s an old soul and a period reenactor who’s been into corsets for centuries. She started writing romance at her husband’s suggestion and has been published in erotic romance since 2015.
He chained her to him for one night … would she want to be set free at midnight?
There she was, staring at the door of the exclusive BDSM club, Lascivo Credence.
Who did something like this? Accept an anonymous invitation to become a stranger’s sub for one night? What was she thinking? It was completely out of character for her―especially since her knowledge of the lifestyle was limited to what she read in novels. But her curiosity over the super hot CEO she worked for and had a secret … er … libido crush on, was the caveat to throw caution to the wind. She had to know what he was up to in his free time.
In a skimpy elf dress, wearing killer heels, she waited to meet Master Santa … completely unaware of the deviant plans he had in store for her.
Cash Evans had it all. He was rich, clever and possessed the kind of physical appeal that made women’s clothes fall from their bodies with one look from him. But he had needs, the kind very few women could understand let alone embrace, and he should know. He’d been searching for the right one for years.
Now, he had his sights set on the naturally sensual Megan Torres, and the powerful Dom in him knew just how to wake the submissive within her.
Would one night with him yield the one he had been searching for, or would she flee him and his chains when the clock struck midnight without a backward glance?
“So you do.” His eyes traversed over her face. “It’s quite refreshing to find a woman of your age to still have the ability to blush.”
Megan tried to look away, but his gaze locked her in place. His fingers caught her chin in a painful grip, the message unmistakable. He was in charge.
“Why do you think you’re here, Megan?”
“I don’t … I’m not sure.” Which was the truth. She was drowning in a soup of confusion.
“I decided it’s time to show you what your fuck-me-looks invite every time you pass me in the hallway.”
“I never—”
His eyes darkened; the gravelly order reached deep inside her, yanking out the submissive she’d only guessed was hiding there. “Don’t spit out lies in here. I won’t stand for it. It’s the one thing I expect from you—honesty. In what you say, in how you react, and most importantly, in how you submit to me.”
“Yes, Sir.”
“What did I tell you, who am I to you tonight?”
“Master … my Master Santa.”
The pad of his thumb pressed into her lip, exposing the fleshy crimson pulp.
“Don’t forget again, subbie.” He kept her gaze captive. “Push out your tongue.” Again, she obeyed blindly. She was overwhelmed by his closeness. There was something in his eyes that caused nonstop shudders to roll through her. He was power personified, yet he seemed to have fierce control over it. She wondered if it was for her benefit because she was a newbie, or if it was what all the subs she had seen hanging onto him reacted to. His gaze swept over her face, so compelling it felt like his big hand was sliding seductively over her body.
He leaned closer. His lips locked around her tongue and he sucked. Megan gasped and pulled hers back inside her mouth. She whimpered as his thumb pressed her bottom lip painfully against her teeth. Her clit began to throb incessantly.
“Push out your tongue. Pull it back again and I’ll put a clamp on it to keep it in place the rest of the evening. Is that understood?”
“Yes,” she gasped and immediately flicked out her tongue. She’d seen pictures of some of the clamps they used in BDSM scenes and she had no intention of wearing one of those torture tools! The pressure on her lip increased. Her eyes shot to his. The dark look in his gaze was the only reminder she needed. “Yes, Master.”
He smiled. “You’re a quick learner. It pleases me.” His gaze dropped to her mouth. “Tongue.”
This time Megan was prepared … only to the extent that she didn’t yank it from his grasp. What she wasn’t prepared for was the burst of heat that seared through her body as he sucked. Her eyes fluttered closed. She yelped as he bit into her tongue; her eyes shot open. The order was there in the flash of his eyes. Keep your eyes open, subbie. It was eerie that she could hear his voice inside her mind.
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Author Bio and social links:
Linzi Basset is a top 100 Amazon and iBooks Bestselling Author.
Not satisfied to be chained to one genre, she flourishes in producing multiple realms of her imaginary world. Her bestselling Club Cove series have all achieved top 5 on the Amazon charts. Her stories as edgy, dark, suspenseful and at times filled with sweet romance. Linzi is a sucker for HEA and all her books have a happy ending, no matter the battles each couple have to fight to get there.
As a full time author, there’s only one place you’ll ever find Linzi and that’s behind her laptop … well, now and then she pops in at the gym too and she’s never without her trusty energy booster … a steaming cup of coffee!
A whip as a Christmas present! Has her husband lost his mind?
A desperate wife
A husband with a secret
A marriage at a crossroads
A recipe for the beginning of the end of a twenty-three-year relationship? Or would Caleb’s deviant plan to add some spice to their marriage be just what was needed to save it?
Zoey Thomas was at her wits’ end. Their twins had left for college in LA, and suddenly, her amorous husband had become the master of celibacy. So sexually frustrated, she even toyed with the idea of renting a lover for an afternoon!
That is, until a gift containing a slinky black dress, silky nylons, and killer heels arrived with an invitation to meet him on Christmas Eve at the exclusive Club Solace, brought a flare of hope.
Then she uncovered what was at the bottom of the box …
A black crop with the engraving, Santa’s Whip. Had her husband completely lost his mind?
Would Zoey be ready for what secrets the night might reveal? Or had Caleb’s invitation just backfired and threatened to blow their entire life to smithereens?
Author Bio and social links:
Isabel James is a pseudonym for two authors who collaborated to bring you a tale of emotional and spiritual discoveries.
One is an Erotica Author who has achieved Bestseller status a few times with her Club Alpha Cove series, Club Wicked Cove, Club Devil Cove, The Tycoon and Their Sub series, Linzi Basset.
The other Author is a poet at heart and loves the nuances of wordplay. Like a true Artist, he paints a canvas with words, drawing you into his imagination, seducing you with their expressive beauty. He loves everything Shakespeare and draws his inspiration from the beauty of true passion and lust of life and love.
The day these two met, they discovered they had a writing chemistry. Their minds sparred and they converted their passion for words into a journey of discovery that happened without any conscious decision.
Their writing is intense, it’s intimate and no holds barred. They openly explore the sensual and erotic emotions that rule the human body and mind. They’re each other’s yin and yang, challenging their minds and emotions to constantly explode in the stories they write. It’s an anthology of colorful, winding words that more than tell a story, it draws you inside, inviting you to feel each and every touch, see every emotion and experience the explosive sensations for yourself as they guide you through a maze of pleasurable erotica and challenge you with spiritual emotional discovery.
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