Replay Set 3: Wing Men, The Dark Side, Naughty New Year, Gladiator

RSet3 box

Replay Set 3: Wing Men, The Dark Side, Naughty New Year, Gladiator

by Nia Farrell

Length: 75,405 words. Release Date April 1, 2018.

Amazon e-book         FREE WITH KU          Goodreads reviews


Welcome to Replay, the BDSM theme resort where patrons roleplay in the past.  Replay Set 3 contains Replay Book 7-9 and Replay Reunion 1.

Replay Book 7: WING MEN. During World War I weekend, a singer comes under the sights of two rival fighter pilots. If they want her, they’ll have to learn to share. Released August 1, 2017. Length 20,081 words.  Teasers and Excerpt

Replay Book 8: THE DARK SIDE.  It’s Cinema Classics weekend at Replay BDSM theme resort.  When 1930s Hollywood vamp meets vampire on the dark side of the resort, the chemistry is off the charts.  But can a relationship survive the light of day, when a doctor requires anonymity and his submissive is a celebrity?  Release date November 1, 2018.  Length 25,313 words.  Teasers and Excerpt

Replay Reunion 1: NAUGHTY NEW YEAR.  Replay BDSM theme resort hosts its third New Year’s Eve party in the newest addition, The Steamroom, built for Iron Domination Steampunk play.  Release date January 1, 2018.  Length 6,218 words.  Teasers and excerpt

Replay Book 9: GLADIATOR.  Replay BDSM theme resort has four new Doms, an international team of gladiators who live and train together at the resort’s Roman villa.  Replay’s wardrobe assistant Leda Giannopoulis hopes to be the tie that will bind them, but her kidnapping fantasy will threaten to tear them apart.  MMFMM interracial multicultural bisexual reverse harem ménage a cinco.  Release date February 1, 2018.  Length 23,793 words.  Teasers and Excerpt

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A Package for Paige (Unbillable Hours #2)

A Package for Paige (Unbillable Hours 2)

by Ree L. Diehl

Length 9,402 words. Release date April 15, 2018.

Amazon e-book        Goodreads reviews


Bicycle messenger Ben Walker delivers his last package of the day and is confronted by one very disgruntled author.  When she manages to look past the box from her editor, her mood shifts at warp speed from sullen to sultry.

Paige Turner hates being interrupted when she’s writing, especially in the middle of a sex scene.  When her intercom’s summons leaves her as unsatisfied as her hero, she plans to answer the door, accept delivery, and get right back to it.  Plans change when she comes face to face with the bicycle messenger who inspired her latest hero. 

The erotic novelist insists on examining his package for hidden damage, but the warning label on her shirt makes him wonder if he can trust her with a knife.  Paige lures him into her apartment by promising to let him in her kitchen drawers.  Now if she can manage to get into his….

Welcome to the Unbillable Hours Series, where the best things happen off the clock. 

Romantic Comedy Erotica, written for ages 18+.



Paige Turner might write soft porn, but she blushed like a Disney princess.  Ben Walker hadn’t seen a woman’s face pink up like that since his senior year in high school when his best friend’s mother caught him licking cake batter off her spatula.

“Well, well,” he drawled, taking an insane amount of pleasure in watching her squirm.  “First, you lure me into your apartment with the promise of cutlery.  Then you tease me with a utility knife and the promise of more—a promise that you have yet to deliver on, I might add.”  He shook his head and tsked.  “You want to play games?  All right.  We’re gonna do a little Show and Tell.  You’re going to show me the good stuff, and you’re going to tell me about this.”  He held up her book cover.  “After that, we’ll see.”

Ben had been a little put off when Chloe insisted on a last-minute pickup and delivery to end his five-day workweek, but she’d been wrapping him around her finger as long as he’d known her.  She had used her wiles two months earlier, to get him to pose for the cover of a book that she was editing.  She hadn’t told him the author’s name or the title.  He was okay with the promise of a copy and being paid scale for posing.

The thing was, the photographer wanted more and had booked him for two more sessions since then.

Now, he had agents calling him, wanting to set him up with photo shoots and acting gigs.

Paige Turner had no idea what she’d started.

She bit her lip and turned her Bambi brown eyes to meet his.  He waggled the cover and laid it on the counter.

“I can explain,” she said.  The hint of pleading in her voice made him wonder how she would sound, on her hands and knees, begging for more.

“I’m listening.”

“Well,” she hedged.  “I saw you.  I mean, obviously, I saw you.  You were leaving Chloe’s office.  You walked right by me, but you were busy looking at your phone.  You didn’t notice me, but I saw you.  It was like your image was burned in my brain.  The only way to get it out was to write you into my next book.”

“So…, I’m in your book.  Want to tell me how I came to be on the cover?

“When Chloe read the partial of the manuscript, she guessed it was you.  I told her about the day that I’d seen you.  I didn’t think anything of it.  Hell, we’ve swapped sighting stories before.  Man candy is way better than Big Foot.  But I swear, I had no idea that she asked you to do the cover.  I’m sorry.  No…,” she said slowly.  “I’m not sorry.  You were perfect for my hero, and you’re perfect on the cover.  Now, might I interest you in some cutlery, Sir?”

Hearing the honorific, he went still.  She didn’t know.  She couldn’t know, right?

Only one way to find out.

Ben crossed his arms and gave her his Dom look—the one that he used when a subbie disappointed him.  “You lured me into your apartment with the promise of it, and you failed to deliver.  Do you know what happens to women who tease?”  He dropped his voice to a husky rumble.  “They get spanked, Paige.  Spanked until their ass is on fire, then fucked so hard, they can’t walk straight for days.”

She squeezed her thighs together and swallowed.  He didn’t know which turned her on more, the thought of being spanked or the idea of a good, hard fuck.

“Cutlery,” he said firmly.  “Open your drawers and show me what you’ve got.”

What she had was a chef’s dream kitchen, from the six-burner gas range to the double-wide drawer full of knives, everything from paring and rabbit knives to santoku blades, chef’s knives, and Chinese cleavers.

He pulled one knife from its slot and tested the flex of the blade.  He looked at her over the perfectly sharpened Swiss steel.  “Do you know what this one is, Paige?”

She did.  Of course, she did.  Her pussy was practically gushing.

“It’s a boner, Paige.  A very nice boner.  Take care of it, and it will perform for you every single time.  Get lax, and it will, too.  You know what I’m saying?  Tell me, Paige.  How do you take care of a boner?”

She swallowed hard.  “Tell me.  Please, Sir?”

“Oil,” he said, watching her eyes grow lambent with arousal.  “Lots of oil and long, smooth strokes.  Do you think you can handle that, Paige?  More importantly, do you want to?”

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STITCH: Crime Family Values Book 1

Elegant vampire

STITCH: Crime Family Values Book 1

by Nia Farrell

Length: 54,123 words. Release Date March 8, 2018


Amazon e-book     Goodreads reviews  

When physical therapist Beth Shelton is kidnapped by a wounded man who mistakes her for a doctor, she finds herself in the middle of Godfather Four.


Physical therapist Bethany Shelton is supposed to be dead.  That was the plan when Matteo Visconti kidnapped her by mistake, thinking that she was a doctor. He survived the infection after she took the bullet from him, but he left it to his mob boss father and assassin brother to finish her.

Except they didn’t.  After a long, futile search for the man who shot him, Matteo learns that Beth survived and he’s a father.

Beth will do anything to stay alive and raise her son.  Matteo doesn’t hesitate to drag her down into his world.  He’ll make her want to stay despite the danger, despite the pain.  But when you marry into the mob, you don’t just get a crime family.  You get their enemies, too.

A full-length, standalone dark, dubious consent erotic Mafia romance, written for Ages 18+.


Excerpt 1:

His physical therapist was proving to be an enigma than begged solving.

Discomfited by his study of her, she stepped back and turned to leave.

“Stay,” he said.

“Broth,” she answered.  “We’ve got to start building you back up, and you need something for the pain.  I’ll be back as soon as I can.  I’ll see if I can find a bell or timer, something you can use that I’ll hear if I’m not in the room.  If I can find canned broth or bouillon, it shouldn’t take long.  Ten or fifteen minutes tops.”

She came back with another tray, loaded with two coffee mugs of broth, a sleeve of saltine crackers, all of the analgesics that they’d bought, and a digital timer that he could punch and sound an alarm a second later.  She had also brought another kitchen towel to use as a bib.  Looping it around his neck, she secured the ends with a small bag clip and picked up the first mug of broth.

“You strike me as a beef man but you’re getting chicken to start.  If you can keep down liquids, after an hour or so, we’ll try crackers, then pain meds.  Otherwise, they’re just going to eat your stomach before they come back up.”

As much as he’d love to argue with her, he knew that she was right.  He had to be wise about this.  That included governing his body’s reaction to her whenever she came near.  One whiff of her skin and all he could see was how she looked naked, unaware, and vulnerable, totally at his mercy.  He could have done anything that he wanted, but that would have made him no better than Reaper.

Even crime families had values.

He’d left her pretty much alone—although he’d felt one of her breasts, to see if they were natural or enhanced.  She was built like a swimmer or runner, with toned legs, a trim waist, and beautiful C-cup breasts.  Her nipples were a soft, rosy pink.  The nest of curls at the juncture of her thighs was two shades darker than the crowning glory of her long, brown hair. 

She had braided it to keep it from misbehaving.  He wanted to see the waist-length curls flowing down her naked back and teasing the dimples at the top of her shapely hips.  He wished that she would whisper his real name, the one that he could not tell her, just in case she decided to split.  He wanted her to offer him something far more satisfying than tepid water and warm broth.  He could only imagine what it would feel like to possess her, to drive his cock inside her until she shattered in his arms.

Maybe before this was all over…

He was dreaming, of course.  This could only end one way for her.  Beth Shelton would eventually have to be dealt with, which was too bad, really.

He needed her to survive, but he couldn’t afford to let her live.


Excerpt 2:

“I shouldn’t want you,” he grated, his breath still minty from when she’d helped him brush his teeth after supper.  “But I can’t stop thinking about you.  With the cashier.  With that mother at the checkout.  You, without a stitch, lying on the seat of my SUV, looking so peaceful.  So pure of heart.  I promised myself that I wasn’t going to touch you again.  You don’t know who I am.  What I’ve done.  What I’ll have to do as soon as I can go again.  There’s a monster out there who needs put down.  He takes women, shares them with his club, and kills them.  He raped my cousin.  I promised to avenge my family’s honor.  I failed once.  I won’t rest until he’s stopped.”

Stopped…as in dead.

Matteo was not the kind of man that most parents envision for their daughter.  He had no qualms about killing someone who deserved it.  He was willing to be judge, jury, and executioner if it meant that justice would be served when the legal system failed.

The intensity in his eyes was mesmerizing.  She wet her lips and swallowed hard.

“You should have run away as far and as fast as you could go.”

“You pointed a gun at me.”

“It was empty.  It’s still empty unless you found bullets and reloaded it.  But I needed help.  I’m just sorry it was you.”

He thrust himself against her hand.  Beth realized that her fingers were still wrapped around his girth, or as far as they could reach, anyway.

He had needed her, but the nature of his needs had taken a very carnal turn.  In another time, another place, she might have been seduced into having a one-night stand with a handsome, well-dressed man possessing an air of danger and an impressive cock.  But now…

If she fought him, she could hurt him.  If he didn’t take it easy, he could start bleeding internally again, and this time, she might not be able to stop it.

Would it really be so bad, to give herself to him just this once?  No right, no wrong.  Nothing but elemental need and what it took to assuage it.


“You were my angel of mercy,” he murmured, his voice grown rough with desire.  “Have mercy on me now.”

He cupped her head and urged her face down to his.  Rather than risk hurting him, she surrendered to her own rising passion.

They came together with opened mouths and parted lips.  Tongues thrust, twining around each other in a dance as old as humankind.  Forsaking her hold on his manhood, she unzipped her pants, hooked her fingers in the tops of her panties, and shoved everything down.  Kicking them aside, she climbed on the bed and straddled him, riding the ridge of his cock and stimulating his length while his mouth continued to consume hers.

He claimed one breast with his good hand, splaying his large fingers, rubbing and squeezing it.  Her hardened nipple prodded his palm.  Catching it between his fingers, he rolled and tugged on it, a pull that she felt all the way to her core.

She threw off her shirt, wanting to feel his mouth on her breasts.  Pushing them together, she offered herself to him, rising up to meet his mouth and welcoming the feel of his lips claiming one, then the other.  He took a nipple between his teeth and teased it with his tongue, licking, flicking, curling around it and sucking it inside.  He feasted on her flesh like a starving man, a desperate man, a wounded man with an uncertain future, seeking to make the most of the time that was left to him.

She didn’t want to think that he might die.  She wasn’t ready to accept that this might be the last act of his life.  The last time that he’d know the joy of a woman’s body and the comfort of her touch.  She gave it to him, all the while bargaining with God to do what He could to save him.  He might be a dangerous man, but he wasn’t a bad man.  Not really.  He was lonely and vulnerable and likely as scared as she was that things might not end well.

“It’s okay,” she whispered, seeking to reassure him when he pushed down the front of his sweatpants and freed his cock.  “It’s okay,” she said when he bent his knees and started to enter her, skin to skin, with nothing separating them.  She wasn’t about to raise the subject of condoms with a man who might be dying.

He claimed her in one desperate, searing thrust that took her breath away.

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Five for Five Giveway!

5 for 5 sm
From Nia Farrell aka Erinn Ellender Quinn aka Ree L. Diehl:
The three of me are giving away five copies of Replay Reunion 1: Naughty New Year, a standalone, sizzling short story set at readers’ favorite BDSM theme resort. There are five things to do for your chance to win:
1. Join our Facebook group The Fold
2. Follow Nia Farrell’s Amazon author page
3. Follow Erinn Ellender Quinn’s Amazon author page
4. Follow Ree L. Diehl’s Amazon author page
5. Subscribe to our gorgeous monthly newsletter
Go to this post in THE FOLD and comment DONE.
Our newsletter goes out once a month, beautifully done and packed with goodies. Here’s a link to the last issue

Highland Desire


Highland Desire by Nia Farrell writing as Erinn Ellender Quinn

Length: 7,632 words.  Release Date December 20, 2017

Amazon e-book         Smashwords FREE BOOK 


In 1602 Scotland, a young widow traveling alone with her three-year-old daughter finds herself indebted to her clan’s enemy after he saves her child.

A steamy historical Highland romance novelette, written for Ages 18+.


“Ye look better,” he murmured, sounding as if the mere act of speaking was all that he could manage.


“As do ye,” she replied.  If she were judging by looks alone, she would have deemed him fit for travel.  But his voice betrayed his weakness. They would be here at least one night, possibly two.

The last time she was on Rannoch Moor, she was a frightened fifteen-year-old, headed for a marriage that her stepfather had arranged.  Now, she was a woman grown and had a choice—to stay with Niall or go.  Wounded though he was, she still felt safer with him than alone.  Too, she owed him her daughter’s life.  Saving his seemed the least that she could do.

She gathered berries and wood sorrel, shaved more meat, and made tea.  Eventually, she helped him up when the water she’d been pushing in him demanded to be let out.  Judging the hour, she gathered bits of wood and dried dung, anything that would burn to help ward off the chill of night.  They spend it hunkered by the fire, trying to stay warm, with her child tethered to her so she could not wander off. 

In the morning, Muirgheal steeped more sorrel and shaved meat for him, and fed Phee and herself.  Niall was quiet.  She wished that he would speak.  Even if he was not up for conversation, he could at least tell her exactly where he lived.  She prayed that it was close.  Hopefully, it was within a day’s ride.  Surely he would not range far from his home to hunt, but with men, one never knew.

By the time the three of them finished breaking their fast, Niall deemed himself ready to try riding.

Muirgheal said nothing.  She nodded, keeping her doubts to herself.  Willpower alone might get him in the saddle and keep him there.  But he would be seated alone this time.  He could barely handle himself.  There was no way that he could handle Phee and her.

She tied their bags behind his saddle.  At least that much of her burden would be lighter.  The two of them walked beside him, or she walked and Phee rode her hip.  They traveled until they entered Gleann Dubh—the Black Glen, which lay west of Loch Rannoch, about eleven miles east of where they had been on Rannoch Moor.  It was almost as pretty a place as where she was born.  The stone cottage they finally reached looked cozy and well-made.

Approaching it, Muirgheal noted a small garden out back.  The door in the side of a hill marked where a root cellar had been dug into it.  The barn behind the house had a paddock.  From beyond the barn, she thought she heard the laugh of a stream as it tumbled over rocks and rills.

The trip had taken most of Niall’s strength.  “Ye need to rest,” she said.  “I’ll take care of yer horse if ye will tell me what ye want.”

There was a long, awkward pause.

He had to clear his throat to answer her.

She listened to his words, but more than that, she searched his eyes, wishing to rewind the clock and read again what she thought they were saying.

Tell me what ye want.

He wanted her.

She had begun to suspect it, the way that he tried, so very hard, to not look at her.  He was a quiet one, except for the occasional tune he hummed or sang before a bullet had nearly felled him.  He didn’t feel the need to fill the air with idle chatter, and in that, they were alike.  She would rather listen to his breath and to his heartbeat and know that when he did say something, his words had weight and meaning.

Niall rode the horse into the barn and managed to dismount.  While Phee jumped on a rick of straw, Muirgheal helped him with the saddle and pad.  He took off the bridle and turned the stallion out into the paddock to graze on lush, green grass.

The inside of the house was cooler than outside, thanks to the thickness of the stone walls and windows that faced east.  It was a typical one-room Highland cottage, with a bed downstairs and a sleeping loft above.  Niall lived here with his ghosts, in the framed silhouette of a woman on the wall, the abandoned spinning wheel near the hearth, and the empty cradle in the corner.

“Nap!” Phee gave it a push and giggled, wanting to lie in it.

“Nay, lassie.  Ye willnae fit.”  Even if she did, her climbing in the cradle might violate his sacred space, and Niall was already hurting.

“Sit,” she insisted when Niall stopped beside a pair of wooden buckets.  “Tell me where tae fill them, and I shall.”

“The burn,” he said, pointing in the direction of the barn.

Taking a bucket in each hand, Muirgheal ordered Phee to come and set out to find water.  The burn was close by.  In the summer heat, the spring-fed water was blessedly cold and clear.  She walked to a point above where the horse drank and brought the wooden pails back full.

Setting them by the door, she found Niall asleep on the floor by the hearth, choosing to lie there rather than dirty his sheets or climb to the sleeping loft.  To let him rest, she took Phee with her and visited the root cellar, taking stock of what was there in crocks, baskets, bottles, and kegs.  Niall clearly needed more variety in his diet.  There was dried meat aplenty but little in the way of vegetables, and his garden was too small to meet more than the moment’s need.

Next year, she thought, then stopped herself.  So close to home, she was.  So near to her mother, her family, her friends.  Try as she might to picture herself on the far side of the pass, she could as easily see herself here, sewing by the hearth, mending stockings and making clothes for her growing little girl who was more comfortable with Niall than she’d ever been with the man who wished only for a son.

Did she want to stay?  Dare she ask?  And if she did, would he let her?  She knew next to nothing about the man who lived here.  How did he earn his living?  Was he wealthy?  Was he happy?  If he wasn’t, could she be the one to ease his sadness and make him so?

She’d only known him three days, and already she could envision a future with him.  In her heart, she was willing to risk it.  Whatever happened now, he would be the one to decide.



Replay Book 9: Gladiator


Replay Book 9: Gladiator by Nia Farrell

Length 23,793 words. Release date February 1, 2018.

MMFMM BDSM Erotic Romance, interracial, international

Amazon e-book            Goodreads reviews

Greek-born Leda Giannopoulis is a wardrobe assistant at Replay BDSM theme resort where patrons roleplay in the past.  Work interferes with participating in scenes, but it doesn’t stop her from fantasizing about being kidnapped.  She never expected to be taken, let alone by the international, interracial cadre of four gladiators who live and train at Replay’s new Roman villa. 

Sir Djiman is a bisexual Ethiopian personal trainer.  Sir Marcus is an Italian photographer.  German-born Lukas Arik Haas is a fitness model and aspiring author.  Sir Antony, the bisexual Spanish swordmaster and leader of the group, warns her that life with them will be very demanding.  Leda will be submitting to four Dominants with very different personalities.  Two of them already seem at odds with each other.  Leda hopes to be the tie that will bind them, but her kidnapping fantasy might prove to be the very thing that tears them apart. 

This book deals with subjects that include bullying and unsolved murder and may contain triggers.  An interracial, multicultural MMFMM BDSM ménage a cinco, written for Ages 18+. 


“Does it turn you on, to imagine being taken against your will?”


“And what about this?” 

Quick as a ninja, Lukas shot up from the chaise, grabbed her forearms, and threw Leda onto it, following her down and pinning her in place with his body.  He pulled her wrists above her head and manacled them in one hand.  Thrusting his other five fingers under her skirt, he felt just how turned on she was.  Her pussy lips were swollen.  The crotch of her panties was sopping wet.

She moaned when he pressed against her clit.

God damn if that wasn’t one of the sexiest things he’d ever heard.

That voice of hers was like an aphrodisiac.  Normally, he’d have her give him fellatio to take the edge off and fuck her longer.  But if hard and fast got her off, he had no problem with that.

He slammed his mouth down on hers.  Forcing her lips apart, he shoved his tongue inside to duel with hers, claiming her orifice above as thoroughly as he planned to claim those below.  She whimpered into his mouth.  He groaned, relishing the sound.

She tasted of citrus and spice and smelled like heaven, with the soft scent of peaches rising from her skin.  Her body writhed beneath his, grinding against him in silent invitation.

Hooking his fingers in her panties, he ripped them off of her and tossed them aside.  He managed to work the buttons of his Victorian-inspired steampunk pants open and freed his erection.  It thumped against her belly.  She twisted towards him, wanting more.

He gave it to her.  Prying her legs apart with his knees, he wedged himself between her creamy thighs and sank his length inside her in one long, hard, meaty thrust that had her begging for more.  Once he knew what she could handle, he cut loose, driving into her with the precision of a well-oiled machine, his body slamming into hers, again, and again, and again.


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The She-Wolf on the Twentieth Floor (Unbillable Hours #1)

The She-Wolf on the Twentieth Floor (Unbillable Hours #1)

by Ree L. Diehl

Length 9,273 words. Release date January 15, 2018.

Amazon e-book or  

Goodreads or


A neglected mistress teases the wrong window washer and gets a whole lot more than she bargained for.

Randy Jackson is usually pushing a pencil, managing the family window-washing business.  When his twin’s wife goes into labor, Randy must take his place on the crew. Andy doesn’t trust anyone else with the she-wolf on the twentieth floor.

Sure enough, she starts dancing for him in a blatant invitation.  His twin might be immune to her charms, but come quitting time, he plans to make the she-wolf howl.  If he’s lucky, his friend-with-benefits will join them.

Welcome to the Unbillable Hours Series, where the best things happen off the clock.  The She-Wolf on the Twentieth Floor is an erotic romantic comedy HEA ménage and the debut novelette for Ree L. Diehl.                                                     

Romantic Comedy Erotica, written for ages 18+.



Her greeting for Jerry died on her lips.

She had looked up, expecting to see silver hair perfectly groomed in a hundred-dollar haircut.  Instead, she saw a thick thatch of tawny hair pulled back in a ponytail.  It was him.  Wash.  Her window washer.  The man she envisioned every time her toys came out and a session of self-gratification ensued.

He didn’t wait for an invitation.  He stepped inside, a coil of rope in his hand and clear intent on his face.  Pushing the door shut with his foot, he swept her with his gaze and eyed her speculatively.  Blue was supposed to be a cool color, but the heat in his eyes was searing.

She stepped away rather than risk getting burned.

“Just so you know,” he began, his voice as sexy as his rugged good looks, “you teased the wrong twin.  I’m Randy.”

Her gaze dropped to the impressive package shaping the front of his pants.  “So I see.”

“Well,” he drawled, “that, too.  I can’t say it was a self-fulfilling prophecy, but it turns out, I’m aptly named.  My brother Andy is currently at the hospital, helping his wife breathe through contractions.  I’m usually pushing pencils, but he didn’t trust any of our crew with you.  It just goes to show how little he knows about me, for all that we’re twins.”

He sauntered to where she stood, smelling of sweat and sun and pure, male lust.

She wet her lips.

Randy tapped the rope against his thigh.  Desire made his nostrils flare.  He breathed deeply, taking in her scent.  “Unless you want your neighbors across the way to watch me fuck you against that pristine window, you need to either show me the door or lock it and lead the way to your bedroom.  By way of full disclosure, you can expect things to start with a spanking.”

Just that fast, her pussy was gushing.

“Well,” she breathed, “when you put it that way….”

Brushing past him, Lauren flipped the lock, reset the alarm, and headed for her bedroom.  Hers, not Jerry’s.  Booted footsteps followed.

Randy tossed the rope on her pillows and sat on the end of the bed.  Meeting her gaze, he patted his thigh.  “Lose the clothes and assume the position, sweetheart.  Head to my left, ass to my right.”

Lauren felt anticipation course through her veins and pool in her belly, swelling her pussy lips and making her even wetter.

“Yes, Sir.”

Light sparked in his appreciative gaze.  “Are you going to be a good girl for me?” he asked.

“Maybe,” she hedged.  “I don’t know that one spanking will be enough.  I may need more.  I’ve been a bad girl.  A very, very bad girl.  Fucking a married man.  Teasing a married man.  About to let a total stranger fuck me.”

She dropped her gaze to his naked ring finger.  “Are you married?”

He cocked his head.  “Does it matter?”

“No,” she said.  “I just like to know where I stand.”

“I’m more interested in where you’re going to kneel when you suck my cock.  But I digress.  Spanking first.  I won’t tell you again.  Strip—what’s your name?”


“Like Bacall?”

She shook her head and reached for the hem of her shirt.  “Ralph.  My mother swore that she couldn’t resist a man who wore Polo.  One of them played it.  She would never tell me his name, but I heard that he could ride like nobody’s business.”

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