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 http://mybook.to/UH1 or https://www.amazon.com/dp/B077MMX88X  

Goodreads http://bit.ly/SheWolfGR or https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/36633540-the-she-wolf-on-the-twentieth-floor

 

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+.

 

Excerpt:

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?”

“Lauren.”

“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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Replay Reunion 1: Naughty New Year

REPLAY REUNION 1: NAUGHTY NEW YEAR

by Nia Farrell

Length 6,154 words. Release date January 1, 2018.

Amazon e-book http://mybook.to/RR1NNY  or https://www.amazon.com/dp/B077MMRBVP

Goodreads http://bit.ly/RR1NNYGR  or https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/36631578-replay-reunion-1

The cast of Replay BDSM theme resort reunites for a very special New Year celebration, held in the latest expansion where future Steampunk weekends will be held.  Sir Piers built the Steamroom complex for his wife Eleanor.  Its design was inspired by the books that she enjoys as an adult and a board game that she loved in her youth.

It’s a rare evening out for Replay’s owner and his wife.  Time away from their daughter Adrienne creates problems for Eleanor, who’s still breastfeeding.  But Sir Piers is more than her husband.  He’s her Dominant.  When the pain becomes acute, he whisks her into the conservatory and gives her the relief that she needs.

It’s a brand New Year, and a very different Replay.  Written for ages 18+.

 

Excerpt:

The moon was nearly full tonight, and the sky was clear.  The ambient lighting in the conservatory made it harder to see the stars, but it enhanced the inner beauty of the space.  The stained concrete floor mimicked flagstones but the illusion of texture was far easier to clean.  Potted trees and plants formed a maze of pathways.  A mix of wicker, wood, and metal furniture was scattered throughout.

Piers had built the entire Steamroom complex just for her, inspired by the books she enjoyed as an adult and the game that she had loved when she was younger.

It was the first time that she had been included on a project from the initial concept to the completed design.  She’d thought that cutting back her hours of counseling at the community resource center would allow more time with Adrienne.  Instead, she’d found herself working with Piers and loving every minute of it.

The man was a visionary.  A genius, really.  And so very humble, considering his gifts.  He’d taken a dream and turned it into reality.  Every weekend, he made fantasies come true.

If she could be certain that she wouldn’t add to any guilt or embarrassment that Ashley might be feeling, she’d slide from her chair, crawl over to her husband, and show her appreciation.  Later, she promised herself.  Their first obligation was to others.  And denying herself now would only heighten her pleasure later.

She finished her snails and sipped at her wine, watching Piers eat.  For so large a man, he was incredibly graceful.  He had nearly finished when the orchestra began playing the song that they’d first danced to, dressed as the White Queen and King in Lewis Carroll’s Wonderland.

“I am sorry.”  He sighed.  “I expected us to be finished inside and ready to dance, if we were not already.”

“Oh, no!  Don’t be sorry.  It’s fine, Piers.  Really.  This whole night.  This place.  The food.  The wine.  The music.  Everything is perfect—or will be, if we can get Ashley’s stomach settled.  Maybe some clear soda, or crackers.  I went through boxes of saltines and graham crackers with Adrienne.”

“Indeed.”  At least he was able to smile about it now.  At the time, he’d been extremely concerned, and rightly so.  “Hopefully, next time will be better.”

“Hopefully,” she agreed.  “With Adrienne, the only thing easy was the delivery.  Two hours, and there she was.”

Piers dropped his gaze.  “The doctor said that your hips were made for birthing babies.”

He put his napkin on the table.  Rose.  Stalked over to her like a large jungle cat, took hold of her chair, and turned it to face him.  Kneeling, he slid his hands down her thighs and spread her legs, opening her, letting him smell the musk of her arousal. 

“So responsive,” he crooned, cupping her sex and feeling how wet he’d made her.  “But these are in the way of enjoying my dessert.  Knickers off, princess.”

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A Wicked Christmas 1869

A Wicked Christmas 1869.jpg

A WICKED CHRISTMAS 1869

by Nia Farrell

Release Date December 1, 2017.  Length: 6,442 words.

Amazon e-book http://mybook.to/WC1869 or https://www.amazon.com/dp/B076VNB7DN

Goodreads http://bit.ly/WC1869GR or https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/36481530-a-wicked-christmas-1869

 

In this sizzling short story, Elena Davenport Wainwright gets ready to celebrate her second Christmas with her husbands Edward Wainwright and Daniel O’Flaherty.  Suffering from “soldier’s heart” (PTSD) from her service in the Civil War, Elena looks to the Dominant Edward for shelter from the storms of life.  But on the anniversary of her kidnapping, it’s the Master who needs reassurance.

Although written as a standalone, your enjoyment will be enhanced if you have read As Wicked as You Want, named one of The 50 Best Indie Books of 2016, voted #1 erotica and #10 overall.

Historical MMF ménage erotic romance, a short story written for Ages 18+.

 

Excerpt:

Edward had been quiet at supper.  Introspective, rather than troubled or morose.  Indeed, he was not given to nostalgia, nor to the dark nights of the soul that had plagued me since the war.  Daniel understood what it meant to have “soldier’s heart.”  He had one, too, although to a much lesser degree.  Mine was crippling.  The first time Edward witnessed it, he had served as my anchor, offering safe harbor when Fourth of July gunfire had triggered an episode that left me puddled on the floor.

Then, and now, he provided shelter from every storm.  Tonight, though, he was in need of reassurance.

Disregarding the ache in my thigh, I knelt between his and Daniel’s feet and rested my cheek against the fine wool covering Edward’s muscled thigh, welcoming the feel of his hand upon my head.  My hair had grown out considerably since I’d met him.  It pleased him to free it from its net and pins, winnow his fingers through my ebony locks, arrange them over my shoulders, and smooth my hair with his hand.

I sighed, content with my station.

“My boy,” Edward rumbled after a time.  Even before he used his pet name for Daniel, I could feel the shift in his energy.  Whatever had made him quiet before had given way to burgeoning passion.  The proof of it was straining his seams and testing the buttons of his pants.  “Lock the door.”

Not that the servants would bother us.  His staff had been with him long enough to understand the way of things.  A closed door meant that we wished for privacy.  Only an emergency that demanded the master’s attention was cause enough for their interruption.

No sooner had Daniel turned the key than Edward had his fly open and his erection in hand.  Fisting himself, he watched watching Daniel’s approach with keen interest, his deviant’s mind alive with possibilities.

What he would ask of us was anyone’s guess.

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Replay Book 8: The Dark Side

Handsome Muscular Bodybuilder Turned Back

Replay Book 8: The Dark Side

by Nia Farrell

Length: 26,421 words. Release Date November 1, 2017.

Amazon e-book  http://mybook.to/RB8  or https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0762SFXM3/

Goodreads http://bit.ly/Replay8GR or https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/36330519-replay-book-8

Blurb: Actress Ashley Slade once filmed in Replay’s Versailles Room, and she’s been invited back for Cinema Classics weekend at the BDSM theme resort.  Nursing old wounds and fresh hurts, she can justify the expense as research for an upcoming audition.  Based on a true story, it’s a role that she desperately needs to salvage her career and save her home.

Ashley invested nearly all of her savings into her first movie as a producer.  The film failed, as did her relationship with costar Cade Madden.  The only thing that’s constant in her life is the chronic pain from a severe back injury.  She refuses to use the prescription drugs that landed her in rehab.

Master Sorin (Sebastian Moldovan) is the Romanian Dominant who portrays a vampire Dom on the RACK side of the resort.  A doctor who now teaches, Sebastian is assigned to guide Ashley throughout the weekend and keep her safe during play.

In the outside world, they can never be a couple.  Keeping his job means maintaining his anonymity.  But there’s no denying their elemental attraction to each other.  When her 1930s Hollywood vamp meets his vampire, the chemistry is off the charts.  What will happen in the harsh light of day?  Can this star-crossed couple write their own happy ending, or will the circumstances force them to go their separate ways?

This story includes more extreme elements of BDSM and may contain triggers.  Written for Ages 18+.

 

Excerpt:

He led her to the St. Andrew’s cross in the corner.  A small table nearby held four leather cuffs, a flogger, lubricant, two sizes of anal plugs, and condoms.

Just thinking about the possibility of his possession made her soaking wet.  He fastened the cuffs on her wrists and ankles and had her stand, facing the cross.  When he ordered her to spread her legs so that he could secure them, there was no hiding the scent of her arousal.

He drew his fingers up her leg as he rose, leaving a trail of gooseflesh in his wake.  He palmed her ass and slid his hand up her spine, past the scar on her low back to the base of her neck.  Tracing the line of her shoulders and arms, he grasped her wrists, put them where he wanted them, and fastened them to the cross, too.  Gathering her hair, he twisted it into a rope, brought it to her front, and tucked it between her breasts to help keep it there.

“Before we begin, I need your safewords.  One to slow the play, another to stop it.  What are your safewords, dragă?”

“I don’t know,” she said, feeling slightly panicked.  She should have chosen them before coming.  Now it was too late to be creative or clever.  “I can’t think of any.”

“Then let’s make it simple.  Yellow to slow, red to stop.  Just like driving.”

“Okay,” she breathed, glad that he wasn’t going to make her come up with something more exotic.  Her mind was too full of other things, like lube, anal plugs, condoms, and the hot, hard, and very sizeable erection that she felt pressed against her.

“Stay here.  I’ll be right back.”

Master Sorin went into her bedroom’s en-suite and returned with wet washcloths and towels.  “Now, we can begin.  Have you ever worn a plug?” he asked.

“No.”

“Have you had anal sex?”

“Yes.”

“Did you like it?”

She’d only done it with Cade, and he had to be persuaded to go there.  “It was okay.”

He grunted.  “We’ll start with the plug for now.  I’m going to check you.  I need to see how tight you are and what size plug you can handle.”

Lubricating his finger, he circled the ruched ring of her ass and pressed against it, gentle but insistent, until half of his finger was inside her.

“Give me a word,” he rumbled, testing her opening, judging how much he could give her, seeing how much more she could take.

“Green.  I’m good, Master Sorin.”

He pushed in deeper, penetrating her with one lubed finger, then two.  Stopping there, he oiled the larger anal plug and inserted it into her rectum.  “Color?” he asked, tapping on the plug.

“Lime,” she wheezed.  “Just…give me a minute, please, Master?  I need to relax my muscles, and the plug isn’t helping.”

Wiping his fingers clean on one of the washcloths, he started massaging the tension from her with those gifted hands of his.  Hands that helped.  Hands that healed.  Hands that had held countless lives in the balance and done their best to bring them through to the other side.

She wondered, when he’d lost a battle, had he cried?

“That’s it, dragă.  Relax.  Let go.  Trust me to take care of you.  Trust me to give you what you need.”

Ashley exhaled a deep, cleansing breath and put herself fully into Master Sorin’s hands.

“And now, the flogger, for your pleasure and mine.  Keep your muscles relaxed and welcome it.  Here we go.”

He stepped back.  Immediately, her body missed his warmth, and she shivered.

“Breathe, dragă,” he reminded her.

Ashley drew in a deep breath, held it, and exhaled, feeling some of her tension leave with it.  She remembered to inhale when the first blow fell, the soft leather falls striking her upper back.  He swung it again, aiming for the other side this time, checking his strength and easing her into it.  Gradually, his blows got harder, and closer together, until he was raining them down on her back, her hips, her thighs.  One carefully placed swing caught the anal plug.

Ashley moaned her pleasure.

Master Sorin dropped the flogger.  Behind her, she heard the crinkle of a foil packet, the jangle of a belt buckle, the snick of a zipper, then his breath, hot and harsh against her neck.  “One word stops it,” he reminded her, as if she could.  Weeks of masturbation had her primed and ready for him.

“Please.  Oh, please,” she begged him.  “Fuck me….”

 

Excerpt 2:

He hadn’t meant for things to go this far, this fast.

Sebastian shoved aside the thought.  Ashley wanted this.  Wanted him.  Sooner or later, what did it matter?

Wetting himself on her juices, he notched his glans in her opening and pushed inside, not stopping until he had worked most of his length into her tight,wet hole.

He smiled to feel it.  Not every woman could handle nine inches.

He hadn’t been worried.  If he couldn’t bury himself in her sex, there was always her ass.  She’d taken his fingers and the plug beautifully.  But he planned to save anal for later.  They had all weekend.  There were so many things he wanted to show her.  So many kinks that he’d like her to try.

Grasping her hips in a bruising grip, he began to pound into her, setting off a series of tiny orgasms that made her pussy gush, until her juices were running down her legs.  Keeping one hand on her hip, he wrapped his fingers around her shoulder and snapped his pelvis, driving into her and hitting her G-spot.  She came, hard, drenching them both with her juices.

“Yessss,” he grated.  Continuing to fuck her, he brought her up to her next orgasm and kept her there, hovering on the precipice, until she was begging for release and he was ready to join her.  He bit the base of her neck, twisted her nipple, and heaved inside, ripping a climax from her.  He came, filling the end of his condom while her deliciously snug walls spasmed around him, milking his length.

She was perfect.

Before they’d met, he’d had his doubts.  When he had expressed them to Sir Piers, Replay’s Master Dom had assured him that he would find Ashley Slade a pleasant surprise.

Sir Piers was right, as always.  She was intelligent, curious, and very, very guarded.  She had old scars and fresher wounds that were far from healed.  She was fractured—but not broken.  A recovering addict with a back injury that would never go away, limiting her on what they could do.

He’d never had a fragile submissive.  The women he usually paired with on the RACK side of the resort could handle anything that he gave them and more.  Given her medical history, it was possible that Ashley could not support the weight of his body when he finally took her to bed.

He kissed the place where his teeth had marked her and licked the petal softness of her skin.  Still impaled on his cock, she moaned and pressed back, grinding against him.

“Give me a color, dragă.”

“Green, Master Sorin.  Better than green.  That was amazing.”

Indeed, it was.

A glance at the clock told him what he already knew.  There was no time for a bath.  A quick shower, dress, then they’d head back to wardrobe.

Pulling free, he took care of his condom in the en-suite.  He returned with a fresh, warm washcloth for Ashley, wiping the sweat from her back and cleaning her juices from her thighs.  He removed the anal plug before washing between her legs.  Tossing the used cloth aside, he unfastened her ankles and wrists, checking the color and circulation of each one.

Taking hold of her shoulders, he turned her towards him and kissed her temple.  “Shower,” he said.  “Then dress.  If we don’t do anything else, we should make it to wardrobe with a few minutes to spare.”

Ashley rolled her shoulders and sighed.  “Too bad,” she said, her voice still husky with arousal.  “I love shower sex.  And bathtub sex.  Hot tub, swimming pool, ocean—just mention water, and I get wet.  Better Pavlov’s dog than Schrödinger’s cat, I suppose.”

Sebastian smiled.  If he wasn’t aware of her intelligence before, her casual use of scientific references would have clued him in.

Ashley Slade just became even more interesting.

Damn it.

He wasn’t looking for a permanent sub, and there was no way in hell that he could maintain anonymity with someone like her.  He had agreed to be her Dominant, knowing that this weekend was all that they could ever have.

“Shower only,” he growled.  “Tease me or try for more, and you’ll earn yourself a caning.”

“Yes, Master.”  She said the right words, but he glimpsed the brat in her eyes, clearly itching to disobey. 

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RULES OF ENGAGEMENT: A Daddy Dom Ageplay Erotic Romance

Sexy Round Woman Bottom In School Uniform Skirt

Rules of Engagement: A Daddy Dom Ageplay Erotic Romance

by Nia Farrell

Length 18,816 words.  Release Date October 1, 2017

Amazon  http://mybook.to/ROE or https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0757FKHGS

Goodreads http://bit.ly/RulesOEGR  or https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/36151097-rules-of-engagement

 

Blurb: Corporate attorney Dylan Reynolds hopes to become a first time Daddy Dom with a twenty-two-year old genius whose lack of experience intrigues him.  Holly Knox can’t deny her attraction to Dylan, but she’s never had a serious relationship, let alone been with a Dominant who’s into the BDSM lifestyle.  He’s promised to show her a world of flavors beyond vanilla, but he wants to start with a spanking.  Can this innocent embrace ageplay and be Daddy’s good girl? 

Written for Ages 18+.

 

Excerpt 1:

Holly Knox was naturally submissive but so painfully shy, a stranger might never guess that she was a genius who could be the next Bill Gates.  However fucking high she ranked in MENSA, the twenty-two-year-old entrepreneurial software designer was a wide-eyed innocent when it came to BDSM.  Then again, when he was her age—some sixteen years ago—he was still learning the ropes, as it were.

Blushing furiously, she stared at him from across the table he’d chosen, in a dimly lit corner at the far end of the hotel lounge.  He watched, fascinated, as that brilliant mind of hers processed what he’d just proposed—a night of kinky debauchery and the best sex of her life.

“I mean…you…you…you can’t be serious,” she stammered.  While a lot of men wouldn’t look beyond the no-nonsense glasses, Dylan saw everything.  Her heart-shaped face.  Delicious, pouty lips.  Satin cheeks.  Initially flushed with embarrassment, the pink had quickly edged toward the red he wanted to see on her tush after he disciplined her ass. 

Her emerald eyes were as clear as glass and lushly fringed with curling lashes that went on for miles, even without mascara.  She’d worn makeup tonight, which told him something.  She was usually scrub-faced.  With such incredible skin and that air of innocence, she’d be in her thirties before she stopped getting carded.

So young.  So innocent.  So fucking ripe for the picking.

He cocked a brow and offered half a smile.  She’d been resistant and he’d been patient, but this was going to happen, one way or another.  It was simply a matter of getting her to agree to his preferences.  He felt good about his chances; he’d made a small fortune from his powers of persuasion—although corporate law was proving far simpler than this complex young woman, who hid her femininity under frumpy clothes and her genius IQ behind conservative black-framed eyewear.

Just because she was reclusive to a point bordering on sociopathic didn’t mean she couldn’t be coaxed from her shell.  After all, he’d talked her into meeting him for a drink, and she didn’t even do alcohol.

“You can’t,” she repeated.

First mistake.  Topping from the bottom.  That’s ten.

She folded her arms across her pert little A-cup breasts and put on her game face, narrowing her brilliant green eyes and snapping her red head, tossing flames.  She was a tiny thing, barely five feet tall in ballet flats.  He’d have to be careful with that exquisite skin.  Every mark was going to show.

“We can’t,” she huffed.

Nice try.  Twenty.

“I w-won’t.”

She stumbled on the words.  Her eyes widened when she realized that it sounded like she was wavering.

Twenty-five.  Only because he was feeling generous.

He stroked the stubble on his jaw.  Three days without shaving, just for her.  He slid his gaze south, watched her nipples harden to diamond points beneath her buttoned-to-the-neck blouse, heard the catch in her breath, and caught the unmistakable scent of her arousal.  She might not imbibe the fruit of the vine, but there was no way in hell that her abstinence extended to pleasures of the flesh.

“Really?”  He parried a verbal thrust and pinned her with his gaze.   The combination of Dom eyes and Dom voice was enough to make her shut the fuck up—for the space of about three breaths.

Looking wistfully at his untouched whiskey, he imagined the smooth, smoky burn of thirty-year-old single malt sliding down his throat.  Across the table, Holly scanned the area to make certain that no one was in earshot.  “It’s…it’s demeaning,” she hissed. “Misogynistic.”

Thirty.

She was trouble.  He knew it.  But beneath that prim and proper librarian-esque façade was a passionate beauty just waiting to be awakened.  Trouble?  Hell, yes, but so worth the effort.

Although it had been a few years since he’d trained a novice submissive, the lesson plan remained, beginning with the basics.  He set his glass aside, in deference to her, as a sign of his willingness to compromise.  “A dominant must prove himself worthy of his submissive’s trust,” he told her.  “To be allowed to meet your needs is an honor for you to give and for me to earn.  Tell me, Holly.  And be honest.  Do you trust me?”

She caught her bottom lip between her teeth and shied her glance away.  “Yes.  I guess.”  Fingering the stem of her glass, she exhaled softly.  “You’ve never given me any reason not to, but that was business.  This is…”  She lifted a hand and gestured helplessly, not ready to acknowledge what he already knew.

“Pleasure,” he finished her sentence.  “Pleasure—ideally, far beyond what you’ve ever experienced or known.  Holly, you should understand, I don’t do anything halfway.  I believe that intimate acts should be…extraordinary, whether it’s a hot, hard fuck, an all-night sexual marathon, or multiple, mind-blowing orgasms—pleasures taken, pleasure given, preferably with sexual intercourse, but only if you’re ready.”

Behind those black-framed lenses, her eyes were wide.  Thoughtful.  He wondered if she knew just how sexy she was, blushing like a school girl on prom night.

“I want to know what tempts you.  Learn what you’ll let me do, to tease you, to please you.  I wonder, what can I do that feels so good, it sends you spiraling out of control and I won’t stop until I hold you, shattered, in my arms?  Eroticism, kink—they’re just different points on the compass.  Whatever path we take, it all comes down to the seduction of the senses.  Getting there…well, every nuance, every detail matters.  Whatever I choose—believe me—is for the enhancement of your pleasure and mine.  If plain and simple is all you’ll consider…I’ll be honest.  I won’t like it but I can accept it, and I’ll make certain that you’re satisfied.  But there’s a world of flavors beyond vanilla.  Nothing would please me more than to give you a taste.”

Excerpt 2 (XXX)

Robbed of breath, she curled her fingers into the carpet, struggling to not push back while her tissue stretched to accommodate a second finger.  God in heaven, that felt good, despite her ass burning like it was on fire—or maybe it felt better because of it.  She was confused.  She didn’t like pain, but she liked how Dylan made her feel.  Sexy.  Desirable.  Feminine.  People always wanted to pick her brain, but he wanted her body.  Her submission.  Wanted her in ways that no one ever had.  Tied up.  Spanked.  Spread for his pleasure.

Kinky pleasure.

Daddy’s girl.

It sounded so…so…taboo.

His fingers delved deep at the same time his palm struck her buttocks.

“Twenty-two,” she sobbed, tears coursing down her cheek and dripping with a thread of spittle onto the floor.  Embarrassed, she struggled with the part of her that questioned what she was doing.  What they were doing…it might be rash but it wasn’t reckless.  She knew that Dylan was acting responsibly, with careful deliberation and practiced response, while she submitted to him.  To his discipline.  To his experience.  To his will and his desire.

Do you trust me?

Yes.  Yes.  Yes.

He fucked her with his fingers and rubbed the points of impact, offering pleasure to balance the hurt, keeping her yellow and out of the red.  While she couldn’t say that she was enjoying it on every level, he clearly was.  His erection strained against the front of his pants, begging to be freed.

At the count of thirty, he did.

While she hovered on his lap, with her blistered bottom and dripping wet pussy, he took a moment to undo his fly.  She heard the tiny snicks of the zipper teeth releasing, the rustle of a sturdier fabric, the softer silky hiss as he reached inside and pulled out his engorged length.  She wasn’t in a position to look, of course, but it was long enough to thump against her waist—hot, heavy, meaty.  He picked up where he’d left off, fucking her with three fingers and spanking her ass for five more counts.

“Thirty-five,” she gasped, feeling his thumb grind against her clit.

“Good girl,” he crooned, rubbing her bottom, admiring his work and her body’s response.  “Now kneel between my feet, clasp your hands behind your back, and wrap those lips around my cock.  You’ve got me so hard, baby, I’m afraid this first time’s going to be quick.”

She looked a mess.  She knew it.  She had to have raccoon eyes from running mascara and a nose as red as Rudolph’s, but when she knelt before him and dared to look up, there was nothing but pure, carnal pleasure on his face.  Dylan fisted himself and pointed his erection at her lips.   She stared at it like a charmer’s snake, only it was a boa or a python bobbing and weaving in front of her mouth.  She hadn’t done a lot of research on the subject, but she remembered a survey that ranked penis size by nationality and how many men really needed magnum condoms.

Dylan Reynolds was definitely a six percenter.

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NIA FARRELL BOOK SIGNING September 2

On Labor Day weekend, Nia Farrell will be signing books and giving away swag at the Books and Wine Author Event on Saturday, September 2, 2017, 10 AM – 4 PM, Chrisman Mill Winery in Nicholasville, Kentucky.  Attendees will have a chance to buy early copies of Keeper: Avenging Angels MC Book 2 (release date 9/8/17)!  If you don’t make it to her reading/question and answer session, just visit her table for conversation and goodies! 

Books and Bottles Author Event

AAMC2 Keeper full cover small

Books & Wine Authors

Keeper: Avenging Angels MC Book 2

Keeper: Avenging Angels MC Book 2 by Nia Farrell

Length 42,909 words.  Release date September 8, 2017

Amazon http://mybook.to/AAMC2  or https://www.amazon.com/dp/B074MPTK5Q/

Goodreads http://bit.ly/AAMC2GR or https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/35961855-keeper

Luke “Mad Dog” McLanahan and Isabella Castellari have a history. Kind of. He’s a member of the Avenging Angels MC and one of four brothers whom she thinks slept with her sister three years ago. Or did they? Nothing is as it seems. Isabella’s world is turned upside down when lies are exposed, truths revealed, and the man she’s been fantasizing about for three long years makes her an offer that she should refuse but can’t. 

When Mad Dog recognizes Isabella stranded on a rural country road, remembering her toxic sister, he almost doesn’t stop. Seeing her as an end to a means, he brings her back to the Avenging Angels MC clubhouse and quickly learns that she’s different—very different—than what he expected. She’s a curious innocent, and willing to submit to his domination. But there are complications.  A mob boss uncle, protective parents, a traitorous friend, and secrets that have been kept for far too long. Secrets that will either bind them together or tear them apart.

This book has adult content and may contain triggers. Written for ages 18+.

 

EXCERPT (885 words):

He couldn’t deny, it was a huge ego stroke to know that he was her first.  But she was also Isabella Fucking Castellari.  Never Miss Little Italy like her sister, but they shared the same blood ties to the fucking mob.

Of course, Isabella didn’t know that he knew about her crime family connection.  He’d been keeping too many fucking secrets for too fucking long.  Her sister Krissy and her Uncle Giovanni were just some of many.

Rather than open that can of worms, he chose a safer subject.

“So, tell me.”  Reaching, he smoothed her hair back from her face and traced the line of her jaw with two fingers.  “Before tonight, did you know that Anna was seeing Richie?”

She sighed softly.  “No.  I mean, I thought that she was seeing someone, but she always had an excuse.  Usually, it was homework, but then we graduated and she was still too busy.”

Fuck.

Mad Dog forced his voice to stay calm.  “How old are you, Isabella?”  Please tell me you’re not jail bait on top of a mob boss’s niece.

“I turned eighteen on March sixth.  Michelangelo’s birthday.  And the day the Alamo fell, if you’re into Texas history.  How old are you?”

“Thirty.”  Twelve years her senior.  He rubbed a hand across his face and blew out softly.  “Jesus, that sounds old.”

Reaching across, she caught his dog tags, weighed them in her hand, and said solemnly, “You’re not old.  You’re experienced.  And I’m hoping that you’ll teach me.”

He leveled a look at her.  He needed to be honest, at least in this.  “Clubhouse life isn’t for everyone,” he told her.  “We do things different here.  We’re all in the BDSM lifestyle as well as the club.  The men here Dominate.  The women submit.  Did you read Fifty Shades or watch the movies?”

Isabella nodded.

“Well, fuck that shit.  That’s not how things are done.  You want to learn?  We’ll get cleaned up and go downstairs.  The lounge is your classroom.  You’ll learn things there that they don’t teach in college.  Are you signed up to go anywhere this fall?”

“SIU,” she said.  “For photography and graphic design.”

He remembered the point-and-shoot he’d found in her purse.  “You a shutterbug?”

“You could say that.  I took my first picture when I was four.  Got my own camera when I was six.  I never leave home without one.”

“And the graphic design?”

“You know all those books on my reader? Someone does the covers.  Might as well be me.  Take the pictures, offer premades and customs.  It’s something that I think I’d enjoy and be good at.  I’ve already done one for my cousin.  She uses a pen name so that no one knows she writes erotica.  She tells people that she’s a ghost writer and can’t disclose anything.”

“She had you do a cover?  Like, with models?  Naked models?”

Isabella bit her lip and coiled a strand of hair around her finger.  “Well, it is erotica,” she said coyly.

He wasn’t smiling.  She was eighteen, for Christ’s sake.  What the hell was her cousin thinking?

“Just teasing!”  She traced his lips with the pad of her index finger.  He caught it between his teeth and refused to give it back until her eyes had gone smoky and her thoughts were disjointed.  “She, um…”  Isabella cleared her throat and tried again.  “She dressed up like a cheerleader.  The cover shows her chest and midriff.  You…um…you can’t see her face.”

“Paperback or just e-book?”

“Both.”  She smiled with quiet pride.  “I have a copy, if you’d like to see it.”

“I would.”  If they were going to try and make a go of this, he needed to know what she was doing.  What she had planned.  Then he’d expand her horizons where he could.

“And the graphic design—apart from the book covers.  Can you draw?”

“Yes.”

“Paint?”

Her brow scrunched.  “Yes?  Some?  That’s not my—”

“Sweet.  You could learn to tattoo.”

“Wait.  What?”  She looked at him, confused.  He’d gone too fast and lost her.  Now she was trying to get her bearings.

He shifted gears.  “How about a summer job?  You working anywhere?”

“No.  I’m taking two online classes. Getting some of the required subjects taken care of so that I can immerse myself in the good stuff come fall.”

“The club owns a tat shop.  Angel Ink.  Flynn will need to see what you can do, but if you pass muster and want a full- or part-time job, he can use the help.  Front desk scheduling, answering the phone, checking in deliveries.  Normal receptionist-office assistant stuff.  He can teach you on the side, if you want to learn.  Never hurts to learn another job skill, just in case the market for photography tanks, no one’s hiring graphic designers, and your cousin can’t afford what you’re worth.”

That last bit seemed to perk her up.  “How do you know what I’m worth?” she challenged.  “My professors might think that I suck.”

He begged to differ.  “As your teacher, I would say that your oral skills need developed, but the student shows promise.  Think you’re ready for your next lesson?”

Mad Dog caught her hand and wrapped her fingers around his half-hard shaft.  “Just a hint.  The correct answer is yes….”

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