Daddy’s Little Captive has been RELEASED!!!!!

Hello everyone. I’m super excited to share with you Daddy’s Little Captive is now LIVE!!! You can now purchase this first chapter in my new dark Daddy series! This is the first chapter of Jared and Sophie’s story and I cannot wait for you to read this book!!!

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Check out this steamy excerpt from Daddy’s Little Captive—I cannot wait for you to read this book!

“Sophie.”

His voice floated over her in that way they often do in dreams, the sound carrying long after it should have and seeming to caress her body alongside his fingers. His hands were at her chest again now, those same digits taunting and teasing her nipples into her own personal frenzy of desire. It was too much, this surrender. Too much heat. Too much sensation, and as he pinched harder, too much pain. But even as the thought resonated, Sophie knew that wasn’t true.

This wasn’t too much.

This wasn’t even close to too much, but that’s what she wanted. She wanted someone to tip the balance, to show her what the threshold was and then to shove her right past it. Her eyes squeezed closed at the idea, her body rising from the bed as far as the restraints would allow.

“You want me, Sophie?” His voice was a low whisper.

“Yes,” she tried to tell him frantically. “Yes, I want you. I want this. Give it to me!”

He laughed dryly as though he could actually understand her plea. “But first you have to earn it, little girl. First, you have to work for it.”

Sophie’s breath caught behind the gag. That sounded so good. She wanted to work for it—to earn it—although she had no idea how to do so.

“Don’t worry.”

He was right on her now, the heat of his body comforting her through the soft fabric of his shirt. “I’m going to help you. I’m going to help you to earn it.”

Oh God.

She wanted to gulp at his words, but that was also impossible now. Instead, she lie there, panting and hot and ready. Ready for whatever he wanted—whatever he demanded.

“I’m going to take this out now.” He tugged at the leather attached to her gag. “I want to hear you.”

Sophie gasped. Hear her? That had never happened in the dreams before.

It was lighter now, the peripheral of the scene brightening, though her mysterious lover was still unknown.

“Is that better?”

Somehow, he snatched the ball from her mouth, although Sophie had no recollection of him unbuckling the thing, and then her mouth was free.

“Tell me. Tell me if that’s better.”

His lips were at her neck now, nipping at her sensitive flesh and nuzzling her when the sensation became too much.

“That’s better,” she breathed. “Thank you.”

Sir.

The word had been right there. On the tip of her tongue. The way it always was, and Sophie would have said it gladly, if only he’d command it. She yearned for him to do so. She wanted to obey. She turned her head, trying to catch a glimpse of the enigma who seemed to dominate her dreams, but his mouth was on her again, pressing into her skin, kissing her, breathing into her ear, the resonance of sexy, dirty things that made her sex clench deliciously.

“That’s better, Daddy,” he corrected her after a moment, placing emphasis on the final word.

Sophie’s body tensed. Daddy? Had he just said Daddy?

“You heard it, baby,” he purred. “Now, don’t keep me waiting. Tell me.”

Her body heard him alright, the command loud and clear, and yet Sophie’s mind couldn’t wrap itself around the concept of calling him Daddy. Daddy was what her children called their father. It wasn’t a term of endearment or respect she used. It wasn’t arousing. Yet still, his voice was so insistent, and his touch was so good, Sophie was compelled to do his bidding.

“That’s better…” she hesitated, tripping over the word he wanted to hear.

Somehow, even though a part of her brain knew this was only a dream, Sophie couldn’t bring herself to say it. It was as though she stood at a precipice, and once that word had tumbled from her lips, there was no going back.

No getting away…

“Say it.” His voice was insistent, and all of a sudden, his fingers were at her thigh, stroking the needy flesh there as they trailed higher, pressing past her labia.

Sophie groaned. Oh my God, that was so good. She was so wet and she wanted him. She needed this. She needed this more than she could possibly say.

“Say it, Sophie,” he warned. “Or all of this goes away.”

She breathed heavily at the thought.

“Daddy.” She pushed the word from her lips like it left a bad taste in her mouth.

“Good girl.”

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Forbidden is Live!!!!

Hello everyone. I’m super excited to share that Forbidden is live!!!! This is the third and final book in the Dark Necessities Prequel trilogy —and the final installment in the dark universe of Connor and Molly.

Forbidden Cover

Check out this steamy excerpt from Forbidden—I cannot wait for you to read this book!

Ethan’s cock throbbed with need at the way Lily responded to his decision. Her already flaming cheeks seemed to blush harder and her breaths were coming out in short pants. He threw her a smile as he closed the drawer and made his way back to the bed clutching his choice of implements. As his shins hit the side of the covers, he tossed them down, just a few inches from Lily’s head.

She lifted her gaze, eyeing all three with obvious suspicion.

“So, my naughty wife prefers the paddle, does she?” he asked, for some reason still talking about Lily in the third person even though she was right there on her knees in front of him. There was just something about the deed, somehow it seemed to objectify Lily further—an objective they both wanted him to achieve.

“Does that mean I should use it first or last?”

Lily’s wide eyes met his gaze. “Sir?”

He didn’t have to look into her thoughts to see the panic swelling in her now, Lily’s body language was giving it away effortlessly and his erection grew as a direct result. After all this time, that flicker of fear in Lily’s gaze still made him hard. But then Ethan guessed some things would never change.

“Never mind,” he told her with a smile. “I have decided to be kind and save the best until last for you.”

She gasped, probably uncertain if that was a kindness or not, but wisely, Lily said nothing. Ethan reached forward, selecting the thin cane from just beyond her nose and holding it up for inspection. It had been a very long time since he’d last caned Lily, but based on the huffing and puffing that was coming from her, she hadn’t forgotten its keen bite.

“Oh God!”

The words left her lips in a rushed breath and Ethan knew how much effort it was taking for Lily to remain in position for him. Every instinct in her body was telling her to get up and run for the door.

“But you’re not going to run, are you, Lily?”

She pressed her palms down in front of her, as though she needed to ground herself. “No, sir,” she promised. “But please. I hate that thing.”

Ethan lowered the cane and moved toward her. “Hate is a strong word, little one,” he replied in a soft voice. “You may not like it, but do you deserve it?”

Lily screwed her face up. “Maybe, sir, but—”

He lifted the cane above her prone arse as her protest began, bringing it down swiftly across both helpless cheeks and ending her sentence.

She leapt from the bed at the impact, yelling out into the covers as she buried her face in them.

“There will be no excuses, Lily.” Ethan’s voice was little more than a growl as he tilted his head to assess the mark the implement had made against her pale skin. “You will kneel there and take your punishment like a good girl. Got it?”

Lily lifted her head, blinking away tears as she answered. “Yes, sir. I’ve got it.”

Ethan nodded. “Good. Six strokes of the cane then?”

He presented it as a question, though he didn’t know why. Lily’s fate was already sealed.

“Six more, sir?” she whined.

“Absolutely, six more,” he repeated. “That first one was just a warning about what happens when we don’t accept our punishment.”

She pressed her face back into the covers at that and Ethan smiled. It was such an ironic sentiment coming from a man like him—a man who had successfully dodged his punishment for decades. Inching forward he raised the cane over her vulnerable backside.

“You’re going to thank me for each strike, Mrs. Reilly,” he told her. “And then, once we’re finished with the cane, you can tell me what you’re being punished for.”

Lily sniffed, twisting her head at the news. “Yes, sir,” she mewled.

Ethan swatted her with the cane again, and this time he did it with real force. He watched with satisfaction as Lily’s fingers clawed at their bedding, but somehow, she swallowed down the pain. Ethan smiled. He was almost proud of her.

She lifted her head. “Thank you, sir,” she managed, although Ethan could tell it was killing her to have to say the words.

“You’re welcome,” he replied happily. “That was one.”

He landed the next strike a little lower than the first and this time she squealed.

Damn it, Ethan! That hurts so much!

“Good,” he told her sternly. “I want it to bloody hurt, Lily. I want you to remember why it hurts every time you try and sit down.”

She inhaled at that, the defiance radiating from her body. “Thank you, sir.”

That was said between gritted teeth, but still, she had said it. That’s what counted. Ethan could work on getting her to mean it as they went.

“That’s two, Lily. Brace yourself.”

Lily’s cheeks tensed at his command and Ethan wanted to chuckle.

“Not like that,” he chided, tapping her cheeks with the end of the cane. “Relax those cheeks and just be ready.”

She panted again, and in Lily’s thoughts Ethan caught a myriad of complaints, but he ignored them, instead lining up his next shot. He aimed for the place her thighs met by delicious arse, and this time Lily jumped clear from the bed at the hurt.

“Ow, ow, ow!” she yelped, reaching around to claw at the punished area.

“Get those hands away,” he barked. “You know better than that, Lily!”

He ensured he locked gazes with her and Lily bit her lip in shame as she withdrew her palms. “I’m sorry, sir,” she whimpered. “But it’s too much.”

No, it’s not, his thoughts told her. It’s not even close to being too much, sweetheart.

Watery eyes blinked at him.

Accept your fate or I will be harder on you.

It took a moment, but Ethan saw the moment she ceded the point. Her shoulders slumped, her head falling forward again.

“Better,” he praised. “Now, thank me and then you can tell me how many strikes you have left.”

Lily shifted her head miserably. “Thank you, sir,” she mumbled. “There are three to go.”

Though God knows how I’ll get through them.

“You’ll get through them,” Ethan said with a smile. “You’ll get through all of it, and do you know why, little girl?”

Lily’s gaze had the temerity to narrow at that. “Because I deserve it, sir.”

“Right,” he replied. “Now spread those legs and get ready. The last three are coming hard and fast.”

Be sure to click here to grab the book now so you can find out how this exciting trilogy comes to an end.

Molly makes a dirty admission in this #SatSpanks

Take a peek at Connor and Molly in this #SatSpanks  and then rush over to Amazon and #OneClick Entwined, the conclusion of The Dark Necessities.

***

Connor swatted her again, pausing to admire the way the impact passed over her cheeks. “Do you need this spanking, kitten?” he demanded, noticing his voice had fallen to little more than a growl.

He didn’t know why he asked, having already determined for himself that the answer was yes, but somehow, there was always something so bloody satisfying about hearing it from Molly’s lips.

“Yes, Master,” she breathed as he landed a fourth strike, followed by another three in fast succession. “Yes, I need it.”

“Yes. You. Do.” Connor agreed, accentuating each word with a new swat. “Just think about how many months you’ve gone without my discipline.”

Connor landed another hard spank, conscious of his cock throbbing gloriously at the groan that left his kitten’s lips. “How many spankings have you needed?” he asked her. “How many have you missed?”

“Too many, Master,” she panted as he continued, spanking her gorgeous backside time and time again as if to reinforce the point.

“Yes, too many,” he agreed. “I know you, kitten, and naughty little pets like you need regular spankings to keep them in their place.”

He paused, watching as her hips rose of their own accord. It was as though Molly’s body was actually looking for his palm. “Don’t they?” he demanded.

“Yes!” She was almost screeching now, though Connor didn’t think he’d been very hard on her so far. Allowing his gaze to drink in the length of her body, he concluded with a wry smile that his pet’s desperation was more to do with her burgeoning arousal, than her pain threshold. He knew from experience that she was well-equipped to deal with a lot of pain. “Yes, Master. They do. I do!”

“Yes,” he agreed again, and as he spoke, Connor shifted his palm and aimed his next strike directly at her pussy.

Molly yelped at the new strike, but the sound morphed quickly into something of a moan.

“You like that, kitten,” he mused mockingly. “Don’t you?”

Her wide-kneed stance made it easy to access her wet seam, and even the swat he’d just delivered hadn’t made her legs close.

“Yes, Master,” she admitted, her voice a strangled sound which conveyed her very obvious misery on the subject.

“Tell me, then,” he commanded as he smacked the area again. “Tell your Master what you like, you naughty little pet.”

Molly moaned at the instruction, her hips grinding against his legs as he gave the order. Her body language was more than clear; Molly wanted more. Much, much more.

“I like it when you spank my pussy, Master,” she panted, pushing her face into the fabric of the cushion as she made the concession.

Connor smiled to himself. That wasn’t a bad first effort, but she’d have to do much better than that if she wanted her pleasure.


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Taken is now live!
Click here for book 1 of The Dark Necessities!

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Entwined is LIVE!

It was the damndest thing.

The monster made her feel whole again.

The captivating conclusion to The Dark Necessities trilogy is now LIVE and ready for you! Find out how Molly and Connor find a balance in this tantalizing finale HERE on Amazon.

entwined cover

Can a monster ever find redemption?

Free from her captor, author Molly Clary finds herself back at home, but she’s just as lost as ever. In the isolation of her new-found freedom, Molly makes a startling revelation; she can no longer function without Connor Reilly. She can’t write without him; she can’t live without him.

The admission leads Molly into the most intense and dangerous chapter of her twisted love affair yet, and by reaching out to Connor again, she must decide if she can really leave her old life behind to venture into the dark and mysterious confines of the organization known only as The Syndicate.

For a couple whose love is built on lust, and fear and submission, there should be no happy ending. But as Molly helps her kidnapper lay his ghosts to rest, the question beckons, can they forge their own brand of happiness regardless? Can Connor finally be delivered into a consensual union with his kitten, and will it be enough to satisfy both of their dark needs?

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“What do you want then?”

He’d barely ever asked her before, but now her desire seemed to matter more than anything else. It was more important to him than The Syndicate, or even his fucking liberty. It was critical to the next breath he was going to take.

She gazed at him with wide, watery eyes. “This is so fucked up,” she started, lowering her face at the admission.

“Hey,” he whispered. “I’ve got a PhD in fucked up; do you really think anything you can say will make things worse?”

The hand at her nape made small circles, applying just enough pressure to draw her body toward him.

“I think I want you,” she conceded in a long rush of breath. “I don’t know if it’s just the writing, or this thing between us, or what, but I think I’m bound to you, Connor.”

Bound to him? Fuck, that sounded wonderful, and his cock sprung to life at the prospect.

“What a delightful analogy,” he smirked, raising his left brow at her.

Molly smiled in response, although she was practically panting as his thumb stroked the side of her nape.

“So, you missed me?” he chuckled, pressing his body past the gear shift as he closed the distance between them.

“More than I should,” she agreed, watching his approach with expectant eyes.

Connor saw her pupils dilate as his face neared, and he sympathized. He felt it, too, the bond between them was stronger than anything he’d ever known.

“I’m going to kiss you,” he told her in a low sensual growl. “If you don’t want this, then tell me now. I’m not good at asking for permission, kitten. This might be all that you get.”

Molly was smiling as his words resonated, her head tipping as she took them in. “Let me answer you then.”

He’d barely registered her words when she came for him. Connor had never seen such speed in his pet before, but she was on him before he could take another breath. Crossing the small divide between them, she pounced, pressing her body against his, and knocking him backwards as her lips took what they wanted. Connor had to admit it, he never saw this coming, but as soon as their mouths collided, he reciprocated, kissing her back as eagerly as his new position would allow. Molly’s attack had caught him off guard, and he’d slumped back into the passenger seat, now pinioned by his passionate little pet. Of course, he could have fought her off. He’d have had her flat against the driver’s seat with ease if he’d wanted to, but the truth was he didn’t want to. This was a side of Molly he had never seen.

Because he’d never allowed it.

But he had to concede, the wild side of his kitten was making him hard.

Molly drew back from him, her arms either side of his chest propping her up. Her face was flushed with emotion, her eyes wild with fire. It was like she could barely believe what had just happened, what she’d just done.

“Is that a yes to the kiss, kitten?” he laughed as he questioned her, loving her the blush in her cheeks grew darker.

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Start the romance with Taken, book 1 of The Dark Necessities

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Continue the journey with Tamed, book 2 of The Dark Necessities

Tamed 2 Live

Is it bad when Delia doesn’t even notice the spanks stop? Find out in this #SatSpanks

Check out how Delia reacts in this #SatSpanks edition, an exclusive excerpt from Duty Bound. Grab this hot anthology fast to find out what happens!

***

Delia’s breath caught in her throat, her anticipation building. The room was filled with a new energy, which seemed to pulse around her. Her belly knotted with anxious excitement. Why was he making her wait? This was too…
She never got to conclude that thought. In a flash, Turner’s hand had vanished from her body, and he had brought his palm crashing back down against her vulnerable arse. Delia yelped out of instinct, not because the swat was painful, but just because there had been one. He had finally spanked her, and despite her embarrassment and discomfort, she was glad of it.
“We will only use my palm.” Turner’s voice was like a soft, insistent thrum, the sound vibrating over her body to find her ears. “And for now, you may stay clothed, Delia. This is just a warm-up.”
There was a definite gasp at that, but he had already landed the second swat, and this was harder than before. A warm-up? Is that what he’d said? And what was that about clothing? Surely, he couldn’t think to strip her before she was spanked? That ignominy seemed too great for anyone to bear. Turner struck her upturned behind again, following with three fresh swats, all in fast succession. With each new spank, the sting intensified. She wasn’t sure if Turner was intentionally landing them harder, or if it was the cumulative effect of receiving one after the other, but by the time Delia had counted the tenth in her head, she could absolutely feel the weight of each impact.
As the cardinal settled into some sort of rhythm, the onslaught came harder and faster, until Delia reached a point where each new strike began to take her breath away. She squirmed over his lap as the swats rained down, instinctively reaching behind her and trying to protect her punished behind. His hand paused at once, one of those large palms catching her smaller wrist and holding it in place as Turner chastised her.
“No, thank you, young lady.” This time his voice was stern, reminding her of the way her father had once spoken to her before his untimely demise. “You shall not interfere with God’s work. You have confessed your sins, and come here for forgiveness. Now, you must endure your penance.”
“But, Cardinal!” she gasped. “Please.”
The hand which had trapped her wrist pulled it away from the curves of her behind, and drew it back towards her shoulders. Delia twisted awkwardly over his robes. The position wasn’t hurting her, but it was certainly less comfortable, and she instantly disliked the weight of his free arm against her back. As soon as her bottom was cleared of her self-imposed obstruction, his palm resumed, peppering her arse with cruel, loud swats which seemed to fill up the office like rolls of thunder. And still Delia resisted. It was like she couldn’t stop, as though she had temporarily lost control of her own body. The more he spanked her, the more her body rolled and countered him, her bottom searching for a way out of its penance. Yet the cardinal’s will was strong, perhaps even stronger than her own, and her wilful display did nothing to quell his ambition. The arm at her back held her steady, while his other hand worked relentlessly, spanking her over and over again.
The loss of control was maddening, but in her mind, the fight was not futile. Delia imagined herself, as Turner might see her, draped over his vestment; prone and exposed, and she despised the mental image. She hated how weak she was, and how vulnerable she felt. She resented the power these men held over her. Or at least, that’s what she told herself as she writhed over his body, that’s how she convinced herself that she wasn’t enjoying the surrender. But it wasn’t true, and if Cardinal Turner was right about God, then He would certainly know the deceit. The truth was it did hurt, and it was uncomfortable, and yet for all her protestations, Delia was secretly beginning to revel in it. The whole scenario was uniquely compelling. For the first time, she was being held to account for her actions, and it was all happening like this; she was being spanked by the gorgeous cardinal in the red robes with the mesmerising blue eyes.
As the realisation dawned over her, the fight left Delia’s body in an instant. She felt the miscellaneous energy rush from her body, and she slumped forward, panting as she finally began to understand. This was all part of the punishment. First the anticipation, then the resistance, and now, the resignation. And resigned she was, her eyes closing as she accepted the brunt of Turner’s palm as it punished her bottom over and over. At that moment of concession, her body relaxed, despite the wall of pain which was being built at her behind. At that moment, her mind was quiet, and as she slipped away from conscious thought, Delia realised it was perhaps the first time her head had ever been free. She no longer had to think. She no longer had to worry about what to wear, or do, or say. She no longer had control. She’d given that up to Turner, or to God, or whoever the hell was orchestrating this bizarre ritual, but whoever it was, Delia felt sure they could keep it. This quiet freedom was good. Better than anything she could have imagined, maybe even better than the simmering thrum of arousal which kept its insistent throb between her legs.
“Good girl, Delia,” crooned Turner from above her head. “There’s our good girl, brothers. She is finally capitulating, and submitting to the will of God.”
“Praise be His name,” murmured Cardinal Medlock from beyond her head.
The sound of their voices stirred her from the peculiar tranquillity Delia had found in the punishment, and she wished at once that she could return to its warm folds. But now another urge was coming to fore. The weight of sensation at her core was building, centring her, making her focus only the weight of the cardinal’s palm as it struck her jeans. She imagined the impact, envisioning the reverberations as they spread outwards, down towards her legs. Down between her thighs.
A small moan escaped her lips, and reflexively she raised her free hand to cover her lips at the sound. Delia swore she had not consciously meant to make it, but then she remembered, nothing about this act was conscious anymore. She’d had control at the start, when she consented to the penance, but since then; since she found herself draped over Turner’s vestments, Delia had none. There was no say over the timing or intensity of each swat, no ability to protect herself, and now, apparently, there was no control over her own body’s responses. A hot blush engulfed her face as she realised what she’d done, and yet it was already too late. She’d moaned gutturally over the Cardinal’s lap, and they must have heard her. At least Turner must have caught the sound, and probably Medlock and Brogan, too.
Oh, God…
It was then that she registered the change. The spanking had halted, and in her embarrassed state of mind, Delia hadn’t even noticed.


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Taken is now live!
Click here for book 1 of The Dark Necessities!

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Happy release day to me, Duty Bound is live!

Duty Bound is now Live and ready to steam up your kindle!

Duty Bound (Sins)

When their uniforms come off…

Bossy, dedicated, overprotective, super complicated. A woman needs a man like that in her life like she needs a temporal lobe headache, right? Think again, because when the uniforms come off and the temperature skyrockets, it’s time to forget Hell and take a trip straight to Heaven.

How about multiplying that by three, four, or more? You get the picture? This set of panty-melting reverse harem stories will have you gasping, panting, squirming and sweating. Read late into the night with these steamy tales featuring priests, military men, S.W.A.T. officers, gardeners, waiters, and more.

For a limited time only, grab your own harem of hot men who are determined to be the best of the best, especially when it comes to adoring their woman.

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The three of them made their way through the narrow halls, Delia trapped between the leading figure of Brogan and the even taller Cardinal Turner, who seemed to tower over her. As they walked, Turner insisted on asking her a variety of inane questions, none of which had anything to do with the reasons she was actually here, or what in the hell they were planning to do with her.

Nervous butterflies stretched their wings as her mind considered what the options could be. Her uncle had been disappointed at her behaviour—angry even—but surely, he wouldn’t leave her in the care of men who would hurt her? And anyway, she reassured herself as Turner chatted on, there were laws against that. They couldn’t touch her, but they could intimidate, and if she was honest, they already had.

It was true, no overt threats had been made, but still there was something. Something imperceptible, something in the air here like a lingering scent. Delia could sense it instinctively, although she couldn’t give the sensation a name. The worst of it was though, it wasn’t just trepidation that the atmosphere produced in her tightly-wound body, it was also arousal. Delia hadn’t had that much experience with boys her own age. Uncle Nicholas had always made that prospect practically impossible, but she had dated a couple, breaking out of the house after hours when her aunt and uncle had believed she was sleeping.

Neither Timmy Blore, nor Steve Furst had been much to talk about. They had really just been fumbles in the dark, but the experiences had taught her one thing; she enjoyed a man taking control. And every time Brogan and Turner had stood up to her today, Delia had felt the tension in her core, and that hot, slick arousal which had collected at the apex of her thighs. The thought of whatever was about to transpire in Turner’s office made her feel giddy, though she realised that was stupid. Whatever was on the cards for her, these men were priests. They didn’t see her that way. No doubt she was little better than a naughty school-girl to them, although she’d been in college now for nearly three years.

“And you’re at college, Delia,” Turner asked. “Is that right?”

His question cut through her internal monologue, and she nodded, trying to compose herself before she answered the hot-looking priest with the astonishing blue eyes. He was older than Father Brogan, but every inch as tempting.

Stop it, she chastised herself. Stop thinking that way. This is the sort of shit that landed you in trouble in the first place. If you hadn’t been trying to impress Steve, then you’d never have stolen the damn cigarettes in the first place.

“Yes, Cardinal,” she replied, unable to meet his piercing gaze as it drilled into her. His eyes were like the colour of a tropical ocean, and were quite unlike anything Delia had ever seen before. “I had been thinking of going on to university.”

“So, you’re a bright young woman,” he responded, flashing her an absolutely devastating smile. “Pray tell, why it has taken you so long to complete your college course?” Delia grimaced. Perfect, now she had to admit yet more misdemeanours.

“I’ve had to retake one of the years,” she admitted, lowering her gaze to the floor.

“Why?” Turner asked in a knowing tone which made her wonder if he didn’t have the
answer from her uncle already.

“I didn’t take my studies seriously at first,” she conceded, the words falling from her
in one, long rush. “I was distracted.”

Delia lifted her chin, catching Turner’s haunting gaze still fixed on her.

“I see,” he replied. “Perhaps you have been in need of our guidance for a while,
Delia?”

She nodded, uncertain what she should say. She still didn’t want to be here, but there
was something disturbingly alluring about being around these men. If she was forced to endure this social isolation, then at least she could enjoy their company and easy-on-the-eye aesthetics.

“We’ll do our best to help you,” the cardinal assured her, “but you have to promise me one thing, Delia.”

The sound of her name on his lips made her gulp. It was like a reflex. “What’s that, Cardinal Turner?”

“You have to promise to be my good girl, Delia,” he told her in what sounded like a deliberately seductive tone. “No running, no fighting and no more speaking out of line. You will take your punishment, and then you’ll receive atonement.”

Turner’s words washed over her like a wave, sending her thoughts scattering.
Punishment? Had he just said punishment? Sure, Uncle Nicholas had inferred there would be consequences; he’d said that was what she needed, but what the fuck did that mean? She was a grown woman, for God’s sake! What were they going to do to her? Throw her in the dungeon? A shiver ran down her spine at the prospect, its resonance connecting with her sex in the most delicious way. Delia didn’t know what was wrong with her, but somehow the idea sounded magnificent.

“Delia?” Those blue eyes were boring into her again. “Delia, can you do that? Can you be my good girl?”

She turned her head to see Turner’s perfect gaze again. Fuck. How can you resist temptation like that, she wondered? He might be dressed like a priest, but she bet under that robe was all the equipment she wanted.

“Yes, Cardinal.” Oh God, she was practically panting now. What must he think of her? “I can try.”

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You know the rules… #SatSpanks

Tamed is LIVE and I am so excited! Book 2 of The Dark Necessities is my baby and I am so happy the reviews are loving it. For this edition of #SatSpanks, Molly is recalling rules!

Tamed Cover

Connor’s hand touched her face in the darkness, those digits finding the hot tears which she had barely even realised were falling. Her own fingers fell from his jaw at the weight of his caress. As though they were acting on some type of reflex, they found his chest, and she pressed her small palms against his shirt. Drawing her hair back, his hand rested at her nape, holding her in place as he continued. “There were only ever two rules, pet. Do you remember them?”

He was close now. Molly knew that, even though her eyes had fallen closed at the sensation of his fingers. She could feel his breath against her face, the heat reminding her of the way he’d claimed her body just last night. Her eyes blinked open as she tried to compose herself. This was not the time for sensual memories, Molly, she rebuked herself. You’re about to get taken – again – by this monster. You need to do something. You need to kick, run, throw a punch… And yet, she already knew it was too late. She was falling deeper into his trap, even now as he spoke. It wasn’t his body holding her in place, but his mesmerising ability to capture her with his words.

“Pet?” He repeated, his tone expectant. “The rules?”

“To obey you, Master,” she parroted, as though she was answering a school test. “And to write for you.”

“There’s my good girl,” he purred, the hand at her neck drawing her face even closer to his body. “I knew you hadn’t forgotten.”

His tone was soft, but patronising, and a part of her wanted to raise her hand and slap him for mocking her. But that part was small and insignificant now, a remnant of the woman she used to be, before Connor Reilly crashed into her life. Now that same tone was all sexy and dominant. The voice of the man who commanded her. The voice of her Master.

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