Wounded Heroes Anthology – Book Tour and Giveaway

Our new release!

Twisted Book Ramblings

Wounded Heroes Anthology
Genre: Contemporary Military Romance
with stories by
Pamela Ackerson, Debra Parmley, Teri Riggs, Maggie Adams, Nia Farell
 
Five Degrees of heartwarming to melting stories ─ Five stand-alone love
stories with swoon-worthy heroes that will leave you breathless from
award-winning International, USA Today, and Amazon bestselling
authors Pamela Ackerson, Debra Parmley, Teri Riggs, Maggie Adams, and
Nia Farrell.
* A Rosa for Russell ~ Who in their right mind falls in love with the enemy?
** Two Step, New Steps  ~ Wounded cop Len Yardley doesn’t expect to
find love while he’s healing from a gunshot wound but the air force
veteran can’t help falling for perky Leanne Bobbin who brings out
his protective instincts and makes him laugh.
*** Bringing Her Home ~ Can Thomas Raintree bring home the woman he
loves, but had to leave behind?
**** As Time Goes By ~ Blake’s determined to find out who killed his
best friend, and his widow…

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MORE (AVENGING ANGELS MC BOOK 5)

MORE

(AVENGING ANGELS MC BOOK 5)

by Nia Farrell

 

Length 46,000 words.  Release date December 26, 2019.

Amazon Universal Link (to be added)

FREE with KU

Amazon US (to be added)

Goodreads (to be added)

Bookbub (to be added)

 

Tag line: She must submit if she wants to survive.

 

When Avenging Angels MC assassin Iceman is ordered to “take care of” a former employee who stole from the club, he has every intention of doing a clean, quick kill with no trace left behind. No one told him that Holly Webster is a young single mother with a sick child.  Learning that her three-year-old boy is the grandson of the club’s arch-rival Reaper, President of the Blackwater Demons, Iceman decides to keep Holly instead of killing her.

A Dominant like the rest of his club brothers, Iceman suddenly finds himself in a Master/slave relationship in the bedroom and head of an instant family, complete with a dog.  He doesn’t like keeping secrets from his club but Holly and Zach are at risk until Reaper is found.  Can Iceman keep them safe or will Reaper find them first?

In the first truly dark romance of the series, More begins as a nonconsensual relationship that gradually shifts from forced compliance to consensual as Holly discovers the man behind the gun.  The story includes a Master/slave relationship, adult situations, domestic discipline, and potential triggers.  Written for Ages 18+.

 

Excerpt 1:

Remembering this morning’s fiasco, he’d kept an eye on Zach while his mother took a fast shower to wash away the smell of tuna.

Kids.

Hers was bright. Flipping through pages, he recited books to his teddy bear from memory and entertained himself with games that she’d loaded on his reader. At one point, he’d brought his tablet over to Iceman, sat by his right arm, and studied his ink, fascinated by his stylized tribute to his favorite band, Guns and Roses.

Holly came back dressed in the same clothes but definitely smelling fresher. He realized that he’d forgotten to tell her to shave her box.

She slowed her steps when she saw his frown. “Is everything okay?” she asked hesitantly, afraid that one or both of them were in trouble.

“Yeah,” he said, scratching his chin. “I was gonna tell you to shave. Maybe tonight, once we get Little Bit here in bed.”

“Lidduw Bit?” This, from an affronted Zachariah. “I’m a big boy!” he declared, beating a tiny fist against his chest. “Mommy, teww him!”

“Zach, why don’t we ask Iceman where he came up with Little Bit? Maybe there’s a story.”

“There is,” he said, turning to her son. “This whole time your mommy was gone, anytime you asked me how long she’d be, what did I say?”

Zach stuck out his lower lip and furrowed his brow, trying to remember. “You said she’d be done in a lidduw bit.”

Iceman nodded. “In my club, everyone who joins gets a road name. But even prospects get called something.”

He nodded as if he understood, then stated, “I’m Zach and Mommy’s Lidduw Bit.”

Fuck if the kid wasn’t on to something. Iceman could hear himself. I want a Little Bit. I need a Little Bit. Give me a Little Bit.

He grinned unrepentantly at Holly. “You heard him. You’re Little Bit. But the boy here still needs a handle.”

Zach framed his face in his hands and thought about it hard.

“What does your mom call you,” Iceman asked him, “when she doesn’t call you Zachariah or Zach?”

“Big boy… and sweetie…,” he said. Wrinkling his nose, he rejected that from consideration. “And bucko….”

Iceman slapped his denim-covered thigh. “Well, there we go. Little Bit and Bucko. Congratulations. You both got club names.”

Holly shook her head, amused by her son.

Tossing his reader onto the seat, Zach launched himself at Iceman, throwing his arms around his neck and hugging him fiercely.

“Thank you, Iceman!” he chortled. “I’m Bucko!”

At least it was a name that he could say, no r’s or l’s to struggle through. Chances were, the sounds would come with age and practice. If not, they’d have to check into getting him speech therapy.

He didn’t stutter, so he had that much going for him.

 

Excerpt 2 (NSFW)

Expecting to see a red room of pain, she stepped into what looked like any normal man’s bedroom. The Mission-style bed, matching dresser and mirror, end tables, and chest of drawers were made of sturdy oak. A log cabin quilt in somber tones of rust, hunter green, tan, and navy covered the width of the king-sized mattress.

Her bag of clothes sat by the door next to a slat-back chair. He’d hung her purse on the back of it.

“Put it there,” he said, motioning from her hand to his dresser. Sitting on the chair, he pulled off his boots, peeled off his socks, and tucked them under, out of the way. Standing in front of the mirror, she watched him rise and stalk across the room, his hunter’s gaze fixed on her form, his man’s desire growing with every step that he made.

One way or another, whatever he wanted, he was going to take.

He stepped close behind her, reached around, and planted his hands on the dresser, caging her in his arms. Burying his nose in her hair, he took a deep breath that escaped on a sigh. “You shouldn’t smell so good.”

She didn’t, she wanted to tell him. She’d worked up a sweat, hurrying to load what they needed and get on the road. The change of clothes had helped, but she knew she could use another shower.

She wondered how he’d managed to keep fresh wearing a long-sleeve T-shirt and a ski mask in the early summer heat. His hair was damp with sweat but she couldn’t smell shampoo or body wash or a discernible scent of any kind. It seemed odd until she realized that he was a killer. An assassin would take care to go unnoticed, avoiding fragrances that could give him away or help identify him later.

Leaning away, he peeled off his shirt, revealing a full sleeve of ink from his right shoulder to his wrist. His left biceps—where the Avenging Angels logo normally went—was bare. There was nothing to link him to the club beyond the cut that he’d pulled from his saddlebag and carried into the cabin.

His sculpted chest was shaved as smooth as his rope-veined arms. A beaded necklace reached to his heart, ending in what looked like a claw. With that thick beard of his, he didn’t look Native American but she wondered if he wasn’t part Cherokee like her dad. The Trail of Tears to Oklahoma ran across the lower part of the state. Eventually, some descendants had made their way back to Illinois.

His heated gaze met hers in the mirror. Knowing that she was watching, he lifted his arm and rubbed a hand across his pecs, feeling the puckered brown discs of his areolas and making his nipples tighten into hard, pebbled crests.

“Take off your top.”

Pulling her hair over one shoulder to keep it from getting caught, she hooked her fingers into the bottom of her halter top and pulled it over her head. The black of her bra contrasted with her fair skin and tawny hair. The look of masculine appreciation confirmed that she’d made the right choice.

She ran a finger along the top edge, tracing the swell of her breast.

A low growl sounded in the back of his throat. “Cocktease,” he rumbled, making it sound like a dangerous thing. Gripping her hips, he pulled her back against his front and ground his erection against her.  “Such a dirty girl,” he tsked, cupping her sex. “Flynn McGee said you were so tight, he nearly busted a nut just working his way in. He knew it had been a while for you, but he didn’t know you were Sig’s old lady.”

Holly felt shame wash over her, reddening her cheeks and making her stomach clench. “I hadn’t been with anyone since Zachariah was born,” she whispered. She’d still be celibate if Reaper hadn’t found her and ordered her to do what she had.

“What about Shawn Porter?” he asked. “The customer you propositioned?”

Holly shook her head in denial. “It was a joke,” she insisted. “He’d been hitting on me and Easy A was playing on the TV in the waiting room. I quoted a line from the movie…, told him I’d had my eye on a label maker and wanted a hundred dollar gift card and he took it seriously, the piece of shit.”

Just that fast, his fist was in her hair, holding her tight and pulling her up onto her toes.  “You’re not one to talk, little girl.  Not with five hundred dollars missing from the till.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice fracturing, her vision blurring with tears.  The hand he’d shoved in her crotch slid upward. Five splayed fingers caught her breast in a bruising grip.

He jerked her hair, making her yelp. “I’m sorry, what?”

“I’m sorry, Sir!”

He jacked himself against her back, his erection digging a trench along her spine. “Close,” he whispered in her ear and bit it.  “In the clubhouse, I’d be your Sir and you’d be my pet. I’d know your hard and soft limits and your safewords to slow or stop. But you lost that right when you stole from the club and made a customer think you were a whore. You belong to me now, dirty girl.  I own you. Here, I am the Master and you are my slave. No choice. No safewords. My word is your law. I say, you do. No arguments, no excuses, no delays. Do you understand?”

“Yes…, Sir…,” she grated, tears escaping to track down her eyes.

He slapped her breast. “Yes, what?” he snarled, slapping it again.

“Yes…, Master…!”

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RELEASE DAY CELEBRATION!

We’re kicking off Morgan’s release with a Get That Books promotion! 

★ Get That Book #FREEBIES & #DISCOUNTS ★

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Click on the image to visit the promotion page listing all of today’s specials!

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Happy reading!

99¢ SALE FINAL DAY!!!

Sale Oct 2019 Ride the Wind2

🎃 Halloween Spooktacular Sale 🎃

26 Books 99¢ Each Only Oct. 5 – 7

Titles include Ride the Wind by Erinn Ellender Quinn (regular price $4.99).

 

A Bond of Destiny and Dragons by Karen Tomilson: mybook.to/DestinyAndDragons

A Love Like Fire by Tricia Owens: mybook.to/LoveLikeFire

Bear With Me by Nicole Blanchard: https://books2read.com/BearWithMe

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Forbidden Love by Harper Phoenix: http://mybook.to/ForbiddenLoveHP

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FrostBite (The Hunter Chronicles Book 1) by Claire Marta: mybook.to/FrostBite

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WOUNDED HEROES ANTHOLOGY

WOUNDED HEROES ANTHOLOGY

by Pam Ackerson, Debra Parmley, Teri Riggs, Maggie Adams, and Nia Farrell

Cover design by Crystal Visions

Length: 6,627 words

Wounded Heroes Anthology

Amazon Universal Link e-book      Amazon US e-book     Goodreads TBR

Release Date November 7, 2019.

99¢ Special Pre-Order Price!

 

Five Degrees of heartwarming to melting stories ─ Five stand-alone love stories with swoon-worthy heroes that will leave you breathless from award-winning International, USA Today, and Amazon bestselling authors Pamela Ackerson, Debra Parmley, Teri Riggs, Maggie Adams, and Nia Farrell. The collection includes:

* A Rosa for Russell by Pamela Ackerson ~ Who in their right mind falls in love with the enemy?

** Two Step, New Steps by Debra Parmley ~ Wounded cop Len Yardley doesn’t expect to find love while he’s healing from a gunshot wound but the Air Force veteran can’t help falling for perky Leanne Bobbin who brings out his protective instincts and makes him laugh.

*** Bringing Her Home by Teri Riggs ~ Can Thomas Raintree bring home the woman he loves, but had to leave behind?

**** As Time Goes By by Maggie Adams ~ Blake’s determined to find out who killed his best friend, and his widow holds the key…not only to the murder but also to Blake’s heart.

***** Fallen by Nia Farrell ~ An Army chaplain priest’s faith is tested when he falls for his PTSD therapist. See Fallen teasers and read an excerpt here.

 

 

 

 

 

DAMAGE CONTROL

Model Jenn R. Turnham Photographer Lori Stead Copyright 2019 Wet Silver LLC

Damage Control

by Ree L. Diehl

Length 18, 365 words.  A BBW/billionaire workplace romance (a contemporary novella with workplace bullying and body shaming) first appeared in Stand Your Ground antibullying anthology with Nia Farrell, Ree L. Diehl, Patient Lee, Jack Crosby, James Hartley, JA Lafrance, and Christine Monroe.

Amazon Universal Link ebook    Amazon US ebook    Goodreads reviews 

Damage Control blurb:

Curvy Isabella DeLorean knows what it’s like to be the butt of jokes but she has brains, talent, beauty, an irrepressible sense of humor, and a plus-size body that matches her big heart.  Tough as steel and built for comfort, this DeLorean would love nothing more than to take her new boss for a ride.

Nicholas Wentworth III is CEO of the Wentworth’s department store chain.  His newest sales clerk is so popular with customers, Bella wins Employee of the Month and all the perks that come with it—a sizeable bonus, a premium parking space, and dinner with CEO.  Bella’s hot Italian-American blood thinks that a boss with benefits might just be what she needs.  She’s already dealing with vicious coworkers, a shady manager, and office gossip.  Accepting the award from Nick puts an even bigger target on her back.  Someone’s aware of their mutual attraction.  Someone who’ll stop at nothing to keep her and Nick apart.  With Bella’s life in peril, can Nick find her stalker before it’s too late?

Damage Control is Ree L. Diehl’s first novella, her first BBW, and first romantic mystery. It’s a sizzling addition to the Stand Your Ground anti-bullying anthology. 

 

DAMAGE CONTROL excerpt:

Bella put the credit card printout with the cash register receipt and handed them to Lola.

The bride-to-be tucked them in her billfold.  “I’ll give these to Vito when I get home.  Thanks for all your help, doll.  You’re the best.”

“Thank you, Lola.  I wish you and Vito every joy.”

Glancing over, Bella saw Maria carrying Justinian on her hip.  The way that he was gnawing on a finger, she wondered if a tooth was coming in.

She was so focused on her nephew that she didn’t see Ms. Cohen coming from the back with a spray bottle of perfume in her hand.  “There,” she said, misting away.  “Much better!”

For Ms. Cohen maybe, but not for Bella.  One whiff and she felt her throat start to close.  She stumbled to the chair just outside the lingerie display room, gasping for air.

“Someone get a doctor!” Maria yelled.  Justinian burst into tears, wailing like a banshee.  Lola called 911.  “Bella, can you hear me?  Do you have one of those shot things for allergies?”

Bella shook her head weakly.  She had an inhaler if she started to wheeze.  A runny nose and sinus headache were the norm.  She’d never had a reaction this bad, with a fat tongue and dangerously constricted airways.  Dear God, what if her throat swelled shut before help came?  Not being able to breathe was the most frightening thing she’d ever experienced.

She felt dizzy.  She couldn’t get enough air, and she was losing consciousness.  Her eyelids closed, too heavy to keep open any longer.

“Hang in there, sweetie.  Help is on the way.  Stay with me, Bella.  Stay with me.  Come on, sweetheart.  Stay with me.”

Strange, but Maria’s voice had changed to Mr. Wentworth’s.

Try as she might, she couldn’t force open her eyes.  Couldn’t see him and couldn’t stay with him, as much as she wanted to.  How ironic was it, to win a date with the man of her dreams and die before dinner?

“I agree.  It is ironic.”

Bella stopped breathing again, but this time it wasn’t a medical emergency.  She felt the sting of an IV in the back of her hand and heard the blip of monitors even before she opened her eyes and saw Nicholas Wentworth sitting by her hospital bed.

He looked exhausted.

She was pretty sure that she looked worse.

“Hi,” she croaked.  “What are you doing here?”

He conjured a tired smile.  “Checking on my Employee of the Month.  Your mother tells me that you’re a fighter.  She swears that you’ll be out of here in time for the presentation tomorrow night.”

Tomorrow?

Good lord.  She’d lost a day?  A day’s pay.  No, two days.  Yesterday and today and maybe tomorrow, depending on how soon they would let her go.

Bella burst into tears.  “I’m s-sorry,” she keened.  “It’s just—I can’t afford to miss work.”

“Workmen’s Comp,” he said, waving a dismissive hand.  “Everything’s covered.  Your pay.  Your stay.  This is a result of an incident while you were on the clock.  Trust me when I say that everything will be taken care of.  All you need to do is relax and recover.  Lingerie will be waiting for you when the doctor releases you.  Ms. Cohen, however, will not.”

“Wait.  What?”

Bracing his elbows on the arms of his chair, he clasped his hands and leaned toward her.  “After your review yesterday morning, I started checking, comparing department profits and sales commissions paid.  The figures showed a disturbing pattern.  When I called Ms. Cohen to discuss my findings, I was told that she was busy with a medical emergency.  Yours.”

He rubbed a hand across his face and smiled grimly.  “Miss Chin—Qua—found your phone on the counter, still recording.  She had me listen to it.  Ms. Cohen was ready to let your sales go through another register.  But what she did next was worse.  Ms. Cohen knew that you had fragrance allergies.  That’s why we put you in lingerie, in a part of the store farthest from the makeup and perfume counters.  Yet she deliberately sprayed perfume without your permission, without bothering to ask if you were allergic to that brand.  It was an unconscionable act, and I fired her.  The search is on for a new lingerie department manager.  HR recommends the one from our Charleston, South Carolina, location.  Ms. Jackson—Evalynne—has an excellent record but she’s not fond of hurricanes and is looking to relocate.”

“Same job, new boss.  I can handle it.”  Truthfully, she was relieved to have a job to come back to, especially if it meant that she could catch a glimpse of Nicholas Wentworth III from time to time.

He smiled softly.  “I’m certain you can.”

“I’m a DeLorean,” she quipped.  “Tough as steel and built for comfort.”

It was one of her standing jokes when someone pointed out her weight.  Bella groaned when she heard what had flown out of her mouth.  “Forget I said that.  Jesus, take me now.”

Mr. Wentworth chuckled.  “Sorry, he’ll have to wait until I’m done with you.  We have a presentation tomorrow night, and there’s still your Employee of the Month dinner with me.  Your mother is looking forward to the first, and I,” he said, “am looking forward to the second.”

She looked for the signs, but he wasn’t joking.

Holy schneiky.

She needed to make a major fashion statement.  In her mind, she saw a basic black mermaid wrap with an asymmetrical draped bodice, crossing to one side and fastening at her waist.

“Two weeks,” she said.  If they were going to do this, she wanted enough time to make the perfect dress.

“Good,” he said.  “Good.  You’ll be out of here and back to work.  Speaking of which, I’d better get going.  I have a conference call in an hour.  I’m glad to see that you’re doing better, Miss DeLorean.”

That sounded so formal when she was sitting here with her ass hanging out of a hospital gown.  “My family and friends call me Bella, Mr. Wentworth.”

Standing, he smoothed the creases from his suit pants and draped his matching jacket over his arm.  “And my family and friends call me Nick.  I’ll see you soon, Bella.  Get some rest.”

She didn’t want to rest.  She wanted to watch that fine specimen of manhood leave her hospital room and memorize how his bubble butt looked in motion.  She wanted to bite it.  Lick it.  She wanted to bend over the bed and let the CEO of Wentworth’s own her every orifice.

God, what she wouldn’t give to have her vibrator right now.

SLOW BURN

Slow Burn 

by Nia Farrell

Length 22,103 words.

First appeared in Dominated by Desire : A BDSM Anthology by Elizabeth Knox, Crimson Syn, Linny Lawless, Courtney Lynn Rose, Brynn Burke, Eden Rose, Nia Farrell, Iris Sweetwater, Deliaria Davis, and AJ. Daniels

Anthology Release Date May 25, 2019

Amazon e-book     Amazon US e-book     Goodreads reviews 

 

Tagline: A publicist is tasked with turning a debut novelist from geek to gorgeous.

Slow Burn by Nia Farrell blurb:

The rights to Reuben James’s debut novel Slow Burn, a dark BDSM thriller, just sold for $1.5 million. His editor wants him cut, dressed, groomed, and coached and has given publicist Brooke Cavanaugh six month to do take him from geek to gorgeous.  The trouble is, the twenty-five-year-old boy-genius-turned-author isn’t just new to publishing.  He’s a natural Dominant with no BDSM experience, and he’s never been with a woman.

To be fully prepared for interviews, Reuben knows that he needs BDSM experience.  He yearns to get his cherry popped, and he wants to find a submissive.  Brooke deems his “to-do” list feasible.  Willing to take one for the team, she offers to help Reuben develop his Dominant skills, but turning him into a media dream proves to be her nightmare when she finds herself falling for the younger man.

Take an inexperienced geek.  Add one seasoned divorcee.  Throw them together in a haunted house, toss in a playroom, and watch the heat rise.

Written for Ages 18+.

#BDSM #agegap #youngerman #geek #firsttime #OperationGetSome

 

Excerpt 1 (418 words, PG13):

“I’ve been thinking about what you’ve been tasked to accomplish,” he said smoothly.  “Prepare me for the book tour and the interviews that I’ll be doing.  I know my strengths and I know where I’m weakest.  I’m intelligent and articulate but I’m inexperienced in the lifestyle that I write about.  I want to change that.  Now that you’re here, I’m hoping that you’ll help me.”

Brooke sat perfectly still, warning herself to not jump to conclusions.  Her imagination was running wild.  She needed to rein it in.  Hear his thoughts before she said something that she shouldn’t.

Keep things professional, Brooke.

“If I can honestly answer and say that I’ve done at least some of the kinks in Slow Burn, I’ll have the credibility that I’m lacking now.  And please, don’t point out that Agatha Christie never murdered anyone to write her stories.  We both know how brutal the press can be.”

Brooke felt her face flush pink.  She shifted in her seat and crossed her legs, pressing her thighs together to ease the sudden ache between them.  Holy shit.  The thought of him… of them… together…, doing the things that she’d dreamed of…

Stop right there.

She realized that they were treading dangerous ground.  She was his personal assistant.  He needed a research assistant for kink.  If he wasn’t a Long Branch author, she’d be the first to volunteer.  But he was, and she couldn’t.

Not without putting her job—her career—in jeopardy.

Or would she?

She was already assigned to him.  Surely she could justify helping him research kink—

Assuming that’s what he was asking.

Maybe she was jumping the gun.  Maybe her imagination was taking her far from where he intended.  She wet her lips and swallowed before responding.  “What do you want from me, Sir?”

He nodded his approval at the honorific.  “I’ve been making connections online with people in the lifestyle who live in the St. Louis area.  Most of them are on the Missouri side of the river.  There are a couple of clubs, but I’d rather start with a private party.  Would you be willing to pose as my submissive?”

Her cheeks reddened.

“Or help me find one?”

What?

Brooke’s breath seized in her chest like an engine with a snapped timing chain.  What the fuck?!  She wanted to rewind, go back to where he asked her to pose as his submissive.  Why would she pimp for him when she was more than willing to take one for the team?

Excerpt 2 (1,173 words, NSFW):

The transformation to a playroom had already begun.  A massive, modern four-poster bed dominated one wall.  The black metal uprights sported rings for bondage.  The mattress was covered in a fitted black leather sheet.  A bench traversed the foot of the bed.  The only other piece of furniture was an antique prie-dieu with a rosary draped over the devotional’s red velvet top and a paddle propped against its side.  The bottom cushion’s matching fabric was worn thin from kneeling.

“Now I’m curious.  Are you Catholic?” she asked.

“No.  Just kinky.”  He cracked a grin, looking at once sheepish and unapologetically naughty.  He reminded her of a parochial student caught studying graffiti on a public restroom wall.  “It seemed the right height for…”

His words trailed off.  She waited until she was certain that he wasn’t going to finish his thoughts.

“For what?  Punishment?”

“Discipline.  Fellatio.  Coitus….”

Paddling.  Blowjobs.  Fucking.  She angled her head, trying to envision it.  “I don’t know,” she said slowly.  He’d made her wonder, though.  Setting her things on the bed, she crossed the room to where the devotional stood.  Curiosity made her kneel on the cushion.

She heard footsteps and looked to find him beside her.  Her nose was nearly even with his navel.

Well, I’ll be damned.

The height wasn’t perfect for a blowjob, but it could be done.  As for fucking…

Rising to her feet, she stepped onto the kneeler and braced her hands on the padded top.

“I was right,” he rumbled, moving behind her.  His voice sounded rougher than normal.

“You were,” she breathed, gasping when he narrowed the distance between them.  He stopped close enough for her to feel the heat of his body without actually touching her.

And she wanted him to touch her, dammit.  They’d spent hours talking, getting to know each other.  She liked him.  Really liked him.  Remembering the last picture that his personal trainer had sent to her, she could envision him covered in sweat, locked in the throes of passion.

Slowly, deliberately, she backed into him, not stopping until her ass was pressed against the hard column of flesh behind his fly.

“Such a naughty girl,” he said, slapping her ass with his hand.  “Teasing me.”  He teased her back, rubbing his erection on her seam.  “I think you need to be spanked.”

She did need a spanking.  She’d been dating vanilla for too damn long.

“I do,” Brooke whispered.  “I do need a spanking, Sir.  I shouldn’t be so forward, but you have no idea what you do to me.  I’m buying batteries in bulk,” she confessed.  “If I’ve ever seemed in a hurry to wrap up a conversation, it’s so I could finish what you started.  Sometimes, I take the edge off before your call so I don’t squirm in my seat while we’re talking.”

She hoped that he would do his own audiobooks.  His voice was perfect for it.  Low.  Slightly rumbly.  That evocative soft Texas drawl became panty-melting when it was supercharged with the passion of his writing.  He sounded hot as fuck when he shared scenes from his current work in progress.  Feeding the Fire promised to be every bit as good as Slow Burn.  Just as sensual and full of suspense.  Another killer with a penchant for kink.

He smacked her ass again.  “With me,” he growled, “or you’ll be adding to your count.  Twenty to start, then we’ll see.”

Jesus.  Was this the same guy that just confessed to being a twenty-five-year-old virgin?  The Dominant-wannabe without any real BDSM experience?  The way he sounded, the way he was acting, she’d never have guessed it.

“Take off your slacks, Brooke.  I want to see my marks on you.”

Oh, God.  They were really going to do this.

Brooke unhooked her waistband, opened the zipper, and pushed down her pants.  They fell to mid-calf, effectively hobbling her feet.

He pulled up the hem of her blouse.  Taking a step back, he looked at his handprint on her bottom—or the part that was exposed anyway.  Most of the heat was under her panties.  She’d thought about shucking them, too, but he hadn’t told her to take them off and she wasn’t sure that she wanted to add to the count. 

He had probably never spanked anyone.  She didn’t know how hard or how easy he’d go with her.

“Count,” he ordered, sounding all Domly, “and thank me.”

Smack!

S-Double H-I-T.  Good God Almighty, the man had a firm hand.

“One, Sir,” she bleated, still feeling the sting of his palm on her ass.  “Thank you, Sir.”

Smack!

He spanked her other cheek, making a matched set of marks.

“Two, Sir.  Thank you, Sir.”

Smack!

“Three, Sir.  Thank you, Sir.”  If he kept this up, she was going to feel it for days.

The blows kept coming, raining down on her sorry ass until he’d thoroughly blistered her bottom.  She tried not to moan, but near the end, she could feel the start of a delicious disconnect.  The pain transmuted into pleasure.  She found herself arching back to meet his hand.

On the count of twenty, he squeezed her cheeks, making her whimper.  She felt him push two fingers along her crotch and press against her panties.

“You’re wet,” he murmured, his voice full of awe.  Regardless of the scenes that he’d written, he sounded surprised that he’d made her that way.

“Yes, Sir.  I can’t help it.”

“You didn’t come, did you?”

“No, Sir.”

“Why not?” he asked.  New to this, he was naturally curious.

“I don’t know.”

“Was it because I hadn’t given you permission?”

She nearly smiled at that.  “I haven’t been trained in orgasm control.  If you’d kept going and hit me just right, I probably would have climaxed.  My clit’s really sensitive.”

“Do you squirt?”

This, with his fingers sliding farther along her seam until he was pressing against her clitoris.

“Yes.  Not often, but I have before.  It usually takes my magic wand and my nipples being clamped or tormented to get me off that hard.”

“Hmm.”  He pulled back his hand and slid his fingers up to press against her backdoor.  “What about anal?”

“It’s been part of either the best or the worst sex of my life, depending on my partner.  Here’s the thing.  Just because a woman’s soaking wet, that doesn’t mean her ass is ready to receive.  Anal takes preparation.  Most men don’t want to bother.”

“I’m not most men,” he reminded her, pressing against her pucker.  He pulled his hand away and stepped back, breaking contact and leaving her aching and needy.

“Jesus,” he breathed.  “I could almost come right now, just from seeing you like this.”

She looked over her shoulder at him and was singed by the heat in his eyes.

“Tell me, Brooke.  What do you want?”

She wanted to come.  She wanted him to tie her to his bed and fuck her like an animal.  But a good submissive wouldn’t tell him that.

A good submissive would show him.

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