REPLAY REUNION 3: NAUGHTY CARNEVALE

Venetian mask. Beautiful woman in vintage dress and a mask on hi

 

REPLAY REUNION 3: NAUGHTY CARNEVALE

by Nia Farrell

Release Date February 29, 2020

Length 6,975 words

Amazon Universal ebook     Amazon US     Goodreads TBR

 

A photojournalist caught trying to enter Replay under an alias learns her lesson under a Dominant congressman.

It’s Carnevale in Replay’s newest edition to the BDSM theme resort where patrons roleplay in the past. Renaissance Venice will be brought to life in the Doge’s Palace.  Masked attendees include celebrities, billionaires, politicians, business tycoons, Replay Dominants and their submissives, and one very nervous photojournalist.  Hopefully, no one will recognize Mikaela in her elaborate wig and mask.

The Dominant assigned to Mikaela Roberts knows exactly who she is, but Congressman Devon O’Rourke has no idea why she’s here. After years of investigative reporting, Mikaela has come to learn the truth about herself. But first, she’ll have to prove herself to her temporary Dom, and that may prove as hard as resisting her growing attraction to a man who wishes that she was anywhere but here.

Naughty Carnevale is a BDSM erotic romance with adult themes and consensual power exchange, written for Ages 18+.  The Replay Reunions are companion short stories to the Replay series, which includes two Golden Flogger Finalists for Best BDSM Book of the Year.

 

EXCERPT:

Sir Declan led her to the shaped metal cage suspended in the corner over a drain grate.

She had a bad feeling about this. A very bad feeling.

He opened the door and made a point of looking inside it. “Mask on. Clothes off,” he said smoothly. “An hour in here, then it’s twenty strokes with a crop.”

“But—”

“Thirty,” he said, daring her to say something more.

Public humiliation followed by corporal punishment. She was never so grateful for her mask. If she was lucky, no one witnessing her shame would recognize her. No one but the congressman from Utah would realize how turned on she was right now, knowing that he’d have to help her undress, that he’d be watching every inch of skin that she exposed. That he could touch her anywhere, anytime he wanted with his large, strong, capable hands.

“Armand!” he called, motioning to one of the wardrobe assistants who’d been watching the rock star get flogged. “She’s ready.”

Adding to her indignities, the congressman delegated the task of helping her disrobe to a man who had no interest in women. Armand undressed her, removing layer after layer until the only things left were her wig and her mask while Sir Declan watched, his expression inscrutable.

She stood, blushing furiously beneath her mask while Sir Declan inspected her, front and back. Just when she thought her humiliation couldn’t be worse, he pulled a green glass anal plug from his pocket.

“Come,” he said, sounding too damned pleased with himself.  “Bend over the spanking bench.  Good.  Now stay while I fetch some oil.”

She closed her eyes, jumping when she felt his hand on her bottom.  Spreading her cheeks, he drizzled oil down her crack then pressed the plug into place, working it in and out as if testing her ability to take it up the ass.

She’d marked vaginal, oral, and anal as things she was willing to do.  She wasn’t adventurous enough to consider double penetration but she’d put down fisting as something she’d consider.  She wished she knew what he liked or was likely to try.  She’d rather have an idea what to expect next than to get blindsided by something she hadn’t seen coming.

Like being plugged and put on display for everyone to see.  It was a far sight better than being gibbeted or put in an iron maiden.

He pushed the plug firmly into place and tapped the end.  Her greedy pussy wanted more.  Hot, swollen, her vulva throbbed and her vagina clenched, squeezing out juices that trickled down her thigh.

Naked as she was, there was no hiding her arousal.  The air was thick with her musk and her nipples felt hard enough to cut diamonds.  He stood over her, watching her, gauging her reactions.  Satisfied, he ordered her to follow him back to the cage in the corner.

The stone floor was surprisingly warm beneath her feet.  Mikaela realized that Sir Piers had built it with radiant heat beneath it so submissives were less apt to get chilled.  The room was warm enough for nudity, which might explain why some of the Dominants were stripped to the waist while they did scenes with their subs.

“In you go,” Sir Declan ordered, holding the cage still for her to step inside.

Mikaela felt a twinge of panic, realizing that she’d just drunk water and shed her clothes.  There’s no way that she could last an hour in a basement cage without making a mess of things.

She tried to warn him.  “Sir, I need to visit the ladies’ room.”

“Forty,” he rumbled, showing neither mercy nor patience with her when he pointed to the floor drain and she realized why it was there.

Prophetic or not, forty minutes later, her humiliation was complete.

She kept her feet as far apart as she could, braced against the curve of the walls, the tide of emotions swelling inside her.  Embarrassment.  Resentment.  Anger.  Lust.  The plug in her rectum only made it worse.  She wasn’t the only one suffering.  Sir Declan was hard and huge, his reaction clearly visible beneath his tights.  Whether it was strictly for her or a response to everything taking place in the dungeon, she didn’t know, but they were both in need of release.

If only he would set aside his personal prejudice toward her as a journalist and see her as a woman who’d come here to learn how to be a submissive.  She realized that she’d have to act the part and continue to do so.  Only by following BDSM protocol would she prove herself worthy of his Domination.

If she was lucky, by the time Carnevale ended, she would win his trust and earn his cock.

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GET READY FOR THE HOTTEST RELEASE OF THE SUMMER!

Release giveaway

I’m promoting releases for three anthologies and gearing up for the release of the HOTTEST free collection of the summer. A Taste of Submission has 12 authors with the first books in BDSM series, including The She-Wolf on the Twentieth Floor (Unbillable Hours #1) by my erotica pen name Ree L. Diehl and Replay Set 1 (Viking Raid, Triple Play, and Honour Bound) in my most popular series, set in the Replay BDSM theme resort offering historic cosplay with kink. OUT JUNE 11 – AUGUST 31, free on all platforms (Amazon will have to price-match, so keep watching until it’s $0.00).

And that’s not all. There’s a $50 Amazon gift card up for grabs, but you’ll have to go to the original post on Facebook and follow the instructions. Good luck!

Dominated by Desire anthology mybook.to/DBD

With Love from New Orleans anthology mybook.to/VOTH2NewOrleans

Stand Your Ground anthology mybook.to/StandYourGround

Contest entry: https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=840680292957044&set=a.126947214330359&type=3

ATOS She-Wolf & Replay

A TASTE OF SUBMISSION

ATOS PNG

A TASTE OF SUBMISSION (BDSM Anthology)

by C.P. Mandara, Felicity Brandon, Golden Angel, Kallypso Masters, Lilah E. Noir, Linzi Basset, Nia Farrell, Normandie Alleman, Pandora Spocks, Ree L. Diehl, Renee Rose, and Skye Callahan

Goodreads reviews

 

Welcome to the lands of whips, chains, and ecstasy…and the first night is free. A Taste of Submission is a collection of first-in-series books from twelve of the hottest BDSM authors around.  There’s domination, submission, pleasure, and punishment in every offering.  Get a taste of each of their worlds and see if you’d like to stay awhile.

If you’re a fan of hot Doms and sexy subs, whether you like your BDSM dark or light, or you’re a fan of contemporary or sci-fi, there’s something here for everyone. And if you enjoy what you read, you can find the rest of the series at your favorite online bookseller.

A Taste of Submission introduces you to a dozen hot BDSM series by twelve amazing authors.  USA Today and international bestsellers, Golden Flogger Award Nominees and Winners, and Amazon Bestsellers all giving you a taste of their best work. Best of all, it’s FREE, but it’s only available this summer!

A Taste of Submission comes out June 11, and you will be able to download it FREE everywhere you buy eBooks. But it goes away August 31, so get your copy as soon as you can.

So you have to ask yourself…

Is it HOT enough for you?

A Taste of Submission includes Replay Set 1: Viking Raid, Triple Play, and Honour Bound by Nia Farrell and The She-Wolf on the Twentieth Floor (Unbillable Hours #1) by Ree L. Diehl.

 

A Taste of Submission copy

REPLAY SET 2

RSet2 PNG

 

REPLAY SET 2: HOOKED, NIGHT MUSIC, HIGHLAND FLING

by Nia Farrell

Amazon Universal Link     Amazon US     Goodreads reviews

 

Replay Book 4: HOOKED.  During pirate weekend, a curious librarian explores BDSM with a Dominant veteran amputee.  Released January 1, 2017.  Length 21,950 words/ 121 pages.   Winner, Favorite Leading Lady, 2017 Our Book Stars Awards

Teasers and Excerpts http://bit.ly/Replay4WP

 

Replay Book 5: NIGHT MUSIC.  In an updated version of Cyrano de Bergerac, bisexual Replay resort psychiatrist Sir Josef plays matchmaker with a blind concert pianist and her mentor and falls for them both.  An MMF ménage.  Released March 1, 2017.  Length 19,438 words / 104 pages. A 2018 Golden Flogger Finalist for Best BDSM Book of the Year (Ménage Category)

Teasers and Excerpts at http://bit.ly/RB5WP

 

Replay Book 6: HIGHLAND FLING.  During a special music weekend at Replay resort, a former ballerina must choose between two Dominants.  Released May 1, 2017.  Length 20,081 words.

Teasers and Excerpt http://bit.ly/RB6HighlandFling

 

REPLAY REUNION 2: NAUGHTY VALENTINE

RR2 Naughty Valentine 6x9 sm

 

REPLAY REUNION 2: NAUGHTY VALENTINE

by Nia Farrell

Length 6,835 words. Release date February 22, 2019. FREE with KU.

Amazon Universal e-book     Amazon US e-book     Goodreads reviews

In this a standalone BDSM erotic romance, Replay Dominant Richard Franklin has been with Tory a year now.  The first five months were been the happiest of his life.  All that ended when Tory’s sister-in-law lost her baby and his ginger-haired witch lost her fire.

He wants his old Tory back.  The one who teased him.  Who challenged him.  The beautiful English heiress who captivated him even before she dared to cast a love spell using candle magick.  She was locked in there, somewhere.  He just needs to find the key.

Rich takes drastic measures and brings Tory to the Valentine’s party on the dark side of the resort, where RACK (Risk Aware Consensual Kink) scenes take place.  Can he get through to Tory and reclaim her, or will he lose her to the master of the whip?

This standalone short story has adult situations and a consensual power exchange that includes public exhibition, voyeurism, discipline, bondage, fire play, and sharing a submissive with another Dominant.  Written for Ages 18+.

Excerpt:

A clutch of black-robed priests and wimpled nuns stood to one side of the chamber.  Beyond them knelt five penitents, dressed in gleaming white robes and pointed hoods.  Even if she weren’t in this ancient space, she knew enough history to not assign them to a more modern era.  Their outfits predated the American Civil War by centuries.  The hoods were capirotes, worn during the Spanish Inquisition by penitents who would be flogged until their backs bled.

It wasn’t yet Lent, but that didn’t stop the first one from being stripped and bound to a whipping post facing her.

She recognized Conner from the eighteenth-century scenes that he’d done at the Georgian House.  When Rich slid his hands around her to cup her breasts and play with them, Conner didn’t even try to avert his gaze.  Instead, he focused on her and accepted the first lash of the whip on his back.

Tory flinched to see his reaction.  Pain twisted his features.  Watching her being fondled, knowing that she was out of his reach, just seemed to make it worse.

The next stripe fell.  The Dominant in priestly black robes wielded the whip like an extension of himself, each stroke as intimate as a bare-handed spanking.

“Watch,” Rich ordered when she started to look away.  “He thinks he needs to be punished, like his PTSD is his fault.  He feels responsible for what happened to his unit and guilty because he’s one of the few who survived.  You and I know that he’s not to blame, but he doesn’t see it that way, does he?”

“No, Sir,” she breathed, flinching when the next stroke fell.

Rich made her watch until Conner was let down and led away, headed for aftercare by one of the nuns.

Another man took his place.  Tory blanched when she saw that it was Luc Vashon and the priest wielding the whip was Replay psychiatrist Sir Josef.  This time, the scene didn’t end with a whipping.  Sir Josef tossed the whip aside, pulled up his robe, and impaled his submissive in one impassioned thrust that made Luc gasp and moan.

He took Luc where he stood, then freed him and led him away for aftercare.

Tory was a mass of seething lust by the time the fifth and final man was whipped.  Rich had kept her aroused and hovering on the brink of orgasm for what seemed like an hour.  She didn’t know how long that they had been here, but she was swollen and needy and craved Rich’s possession.

The whip-wielding priest scared her.  When he walked past the whipping post and stalked towards her, she instinctively shrank against Rich, silently begging her Dominant to protect her.

The priestly Dom had the look of a Spaniard about him.  Black hair.  Dark eyes.  Skin that looked kissed by the sun.  He spoke in accented English.  “I have seen your contract.  Are there any changes that you wish to make?”

Tory had reviewed its terms three months after meeting Rich, once she’d had a chance to observe the scenes at Replay and had a better understanding of what she was agreeing to.

“No, Sir,” she croaked.

His sculpted lips tilted in the barest hint of a smile.  “I am Don Diego,” he rumbled.  “In Brazil, we would call you a bruxa.  A witch.  You are a woman of power but for good or evil?  Not that it matters.  Tonight, you will be purified.  Bring her.”

Rich lowered her bound hands.  Tory’s arms ached from being extended for so long.  Rich rubbed at the tension, working her muscles once from the base of her neck to her wrists.  Cupping her shoulders, he guided her to stand beneath what looked like an oxen yoke with metal rings dangling from it.

It was the medieval equivalent of a spreader bar.

Don Diego lowered it from the ceiling.  Not to the floor, thank goodness.  She didn’t think she could take being strung upside-down.  She was freaking out enough when Rich untied her wrists and lashed each hand to one end of the yoke before it was hauled back up.

They didn’t stop until she was standing on her toes, feeling as close to a panic attack as she’d ever been.  Taking another bullwhip that he wielded with such skill, Don Diego ran the lethal leather coils down her sides, across her buttocks, and up her spine.

He stepped closer.  Close enough that she could feel the heat of his body and feel his breath stir her hair.

“Confess,” he rumbled.  “Unburden your soul.  What do you have to say, my child?”

Tory shivered, as much from Don Diego’s words as from the searing heat in Rich’s eyes.  But no words came.

Instead, there was a long moment of silence, then the lightning crack of the whip that left a fiery stripe on her skin.

Tory thought that she could take a lot, but the bullwhip was nearly too much for her to bear.  Rich was kinder in his discipline.  Firm but fair, he preferred rewards to threats of punishment.  Psychologically, she didn’t know if he would have been able to whip her.  He had spanked her and flogged her, but whips were far beyond the level of anything that they’d done.  She could tell that he was forcing himself to watch, yet he also enjoyed having her at their mercy.  His body didn’t lie.  There was a telltale tent in the front of his robe.

He wasn’t the only one who was excited.  When Don Diego inspected his work, he grasped her hips and pushed his pelvis into her backside, letting her feel his arousal. 

Rich knew what was happening and was okay with it.  His silence spoke volumes. 

He was letting this happen. 

REPLAY BOOK 11: WANTED

Facebook banned the original cover (below). Evidently, navels are too hot for them!

R11 Wanted SM

Replay Book 11: Wanted by Nia Farrell

Length 25,502 words.  Release date September 1, 2018.

Free with Kindle Unlimited

Amazon Universal link https://mybook.to/RB11

Amazon US https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07FXJ7395

Goodreads http://bit.ly/WantedGR or https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/40952027-replay-book-11

 

Jeremy Randall is a graphic novelist whose Iron Domination Series inspired The Steamroom addition at Replay BDSM theme resort.  While he’s written BDSM, he’s only researched it, never experienced it.  His first visit to Replay coincides with Wild West weekend, where he’ll portray a gunslinger.  He hopes to be dominating subs before the weekend is through.

Jeremy signs a contract agreeing to train as submissive, but he’s in for a shock when Courtney Reynolds isn’t the latex-clad Domme that he envisioned.  The Dominant assigned to guide him through the weekend is eight years older, experienced, and gay.

Cast in the role of Sheriff Reynolds, Court seems Jeremy’s opposite but he takes the role of training him seriously.  Court believes that Jeremy is naturally submissive, and he agrees with the resort psychiatrist that Jeremy might be bisexual.  Court falls hard and fast for the beautiful, talented, conflicted young man.  He has one weekend to free Jeremy from a lifetime of misperceptions and help him discover his true nature.  When Sunday comes, will he be able to let him go?

This book is a first time MM BDSM erotic romance.  If kink and a sexual relationship between an older man and a younger man offend you, please keep looking for your next read.  Written for Aged 18+.

Excerpt 1:

By the time they returned to Jericho, Jeremy’s shirt was soaked through with sweat and he knew that he’d never done justice when describing the aches of a horseback rider.

“Saddle-sore?”  The sheriff eyed him closely.

“A bit, Sir,” Jeremy said tightly, grimacing when he swung his right leg down and cleared his left boot from the stirrup.

Sheriff Reynolds rubbed his face in his hands.  “Okay.  Then we’re headed to the bathhouse.  We need to get that soreness worked out if you’re going to be much good tonight.”

Tonight.  Jesus, he didn’t want to think about tonight.

Working out the soreness, though…

That, he could handle.

Jeremy followed Sir Courtney out of the livery and fell into step behind him, keeping his eyes on the broad shoulders and the muscled width of his back.  He was grateful that the Dom kept his pace to a lazy amble.  Despite his soreness, he managed to keep up with him, at least.

A scantily clad attendant greeted them when they stepped inside the bathhouse.  “How can I help you, Sir?”

The sheriff sliced a quick glance at him.  “The boy needs a bath and a rubdown.  Is there a private room available?  First time here,” he explained.

First time anywhere, Jeremy silently corrected him, grateful to be spared a public display.  The Dom and the concierge spoke longer, keeping their voices low and their conversation between the two of them.  When they finished, she showed them to a room upstairs and opened the door for them to step inside.

Two old-fashioned tubs were filled with steaming water, just like in the movies.  A table between them held small bars of soap, washcloths, and towels.  Pitchers of clear rinse water sat within reach on the board floor.

Sheriff Reynolds hung his hat on the wall rack.  Jeremy stood with his feet rooted in place, feeling as fidgety as a freshman athlete in the varsity shower room.

The Dom gave him a longsuffering look and nodded at the tubs.  “Strip and get in,” he ordered.  Pulling off his tie and shrugging off his sack coat, he hung them on the wall hooks and reached for the buttons of his vest.

The sheriff was stripping.

The gay sheriff was getting naked.

There were two tubs, Jeremy told himself.  Nothing was going to happen—especially nothing without consent, and he hadn’t agreed to anything yet.

Except for what was in the contract.

Submission.

Bondage.

Impact play.

Anal play.

Sex toys.

Possible fisting.

God, he was so fucked.

 

Excerpt 2:

Jeremy snatched up the bath towel and began drying himself off, turning his back to them so that his front was out of view.  Did the boy not know that the sight of his virgin ass was almost as hot as his seven-inch cock?

Court managed to not roll his eyes.  Ignoring his own rod for the moment, he wrapped the towel around his hips and sat in an empty spindle-back chair.  If he’d had time and toys, he would have bound Jeremy to it for a session of sensory play.

Later, he promised himself.

His priority right now was getting Jeremy to open up, to finally experience the feelings that he was used to suppressing and allow things to unfold naturally.

Jeremy wrapped the towel around his trim waist.  Inhaling deeply, he squared his shoulders with a grudging acceptance, marched across the floor, and got on the massage table.  Reaching beneath his stomach, he adjusted himself, put his arms at his sides, and settled in for his session.

He had a beautiful body.  His fair skin was even lovelier, glistening with oil, his supple flesh yielding to Quentin’s talented hands.  When the masseuse had worked the aches and knots from his backside, he told Jeremy to turn over.

The boy was still hard.

Good.

Very good.

Court waited until Quentin was nearly done to rise from his chair and go stand at the table near Jeremy’s head.

“What are your safewords?”

Jeremy craned his neck.  His alarmed hazel gaze clashed with Court’s.  Seeing the heat in his eyes, he whispered, “Oh, God.”

Court shook his head.  “Not oh God.  Safewords need to be things that you would never say during a session.  If you can’t think of anything, we’ll use the stoplight system.  Green to go, yellow to slow, red to stop.  Now, one more time.  What are your safewords?”

“Shit,” he murmured.

Court grabbed his wrists and pinned them to the table.  “Safewords,” he rumbled.  “You won’t like what happens if I have to ask for them again.”

“All right!  Sir!” he bleated, remembering to address him as his Dominant for the weekend.  “Yellow to slow and red to stop.”

Court gave a slight nod of approval.  The boy was nervous to the point of panic, judging from his pulse and the rapid rise and fall of his chest.  “It’s alright, son.  One more time.  Give us your safewords.”

“Yellow to slow and red to stop, Sir.”

“Good boy.  Now, do you remember the story I told you?  Do you remember what happened on my eighteenth birthday?  I’d been wearing blinders.  I didn’t see it coming.  It was a complete surprise because I hadn’t opened myself to the possibilities.  It took my coach and a kiss and a mindfucking blowjob to break free.  All I needed was someone who could guide me.  It would have happened eventually.  I’ll always be grateful that it was Paul and not some predator bent on taking and not giving.  I’d like to be that person for you.  Let me show you what you’ve been missing.  I’ll give you permission to let go.  Allow you to break free.  I want you to let Quentin finish you.  Just his hands, his fingers, stroking your cock.  You’re so hard, it hurts, I can tell.  Just a few strokes, and he’ll pull you right over the edge and ease that terrible ache.  You have your safeword to use if you absolutely need it, but you won’t.  Not for this.”

He hoped like fuck not.  There was nothing in his background that indicated triggers.  The boy wasn’t fighting his hold on his wrists.

Jeremy’s breath hissed when Quentin pulled down the sheet, exposing his genitals.  Wrapping an oil-slick hand around his shaft, Quentin started pumping his arm, slowly at first, gradually building in speed and intensity as he jacked him off.

“That’s it,” Court crooned.  “Feels good, doesn’t it?  Having someone else’s fingers on you, touching you, stroking you, milking your cock?”

Jeremy bit his lip and moaned.

Court growled at the sight of it.  “So fucking sexy.  I want that lip,” he grated.  “Those teeth.  That tongue.  That mouth.  I want to lick the pre-cum from your slit, suck your balls, and tongue your ass.  When you’re more than wet enough to take me, I’m going to fist your hair and sink my length inside of you.  Inch.  By.  Fucking.  Inch.”

“Fuck!”  Jeremy bucked, spewing thick ropes of cum that landed like lifelines on his chest.  Court kept his wrists pinned until Quentin had cleaned him off with the washcloth that he’d used in his bath.

The moment he let go, Jeremy jackknifed up and tried to scramble off the table.

Court caught his arm and held it.  “Slow down, son.  Safety first.  I want you healthy enough to play.”

“To fuck, you mean,” he grumbled.

“You’d best be careful, boy.  You’re only adding to the count when you disrespect me.”

Breaking eye contact, Jeremy bit his lip and swallowed what he really wanted to say.  “Sir,” he said tightly.  “You want me healthy enough to fuck, Sir.”

Court dropped his hand and crossed his arms.  Lowering his chin, he flailed him with a cutting look.  “Don’t ever put words in my mouth, boy,” he said, keeping his voice calm and even.  “I meant what I said.  I want you healthy enough to play.  You’ll have to earn my cock, and so far, that hasn’t happened.”

Jeremy eyed him warily.  Court had yet to win his trust, and nothing much was going to happen without it.

“Get dressed,” he said.  Ripping off his towel, he let Jeremy see just how much self-control he had.  His cock was so hard, he was sorely tempted to have Quentin finish him, too.  “I’m taking you home.”

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REPLAY BOOK 10: PATRIOT GAMES

R10 Patriot Games

REPLAY BOOK 10: PATRIOT GAMES

by Nia Farrell

Length 22,729 words. Release date June 1, 2018.

99¢ Special Intro Price – FREE with KU

Amazon e-book          Goodreads reviews

 

 

Will the third time be the charm?  Replay Dominant Richard Benjamin Franklin lost Gini Shelton to Marcus Vos and Jannet MacDonald to Ian McGregor.  Now it’s Revolutionary War weekend, and he’s been assigned a new submissive—and not just anyone.  Victoria St. Leger is the Replay owner’s sister and an heiress in her own right.  Earning her submission will be the ultimate prize.

This weekend they’ll play Patriot and Loyalist, Whig and Tory.  However, this Tory’s surrender isn’t guaranteed despite the electricity that sizzles between them.  Rich might have her, but can he hold her, when her life is in England and he’s stuck here?  And will he want her, once he learns Tory’s secret?

She’s not just descended from a witch.  She is one.

This paranormal BDSM erotic romance has adult content, hints of reincarnation, and elements of magick.  Written for ages 18+.

Excerpt 1:

“Are you all right?” she asked softly, regretting her initial conclusion.  He wasn’t rude.  He was hurting, at least a little.  “Can I get you anything?  Water?  Or something stronger?”

“No, thanks,” he said, his voice still strained.  “I was headed into Replay One to make a massage appointment when Eleanor brought out Piers to show him the cake.  I knew it was more than she should handle and offered to bring it in for her.  If you’ll excuse me, I need to get back.”

He forced a smile, just enough to make dimples dent his cheeks.  His teeth were wide, white, and strong.  His jaw was slightly square and shadowed by a dark scruff of beard that matched his thick locks of hair.

Unable to do anything for the pain etched on his face, she stood there, feeling awkward and foolish.  “Well, thank you for helping Eleanor.  It was very kind of you….”  Drawing out the last word, she made it a blank for him to fill.

“Rich,” he said.  “Rich Franklin.”

“Franklin.  Any relation to Benjamin?” she teased.

“Actually, yes.  My full name is Richard Benjamin Franklin. No relation to the actor, though.”

“Really?  How fascinating!  Well, Richard Benjamin Franklin, I must say, it was nice meeting you.”

She extended her right hand.  When he took it, she felt the current run from her palm into his.  He felt it, too.  His dark eyes widened.

“What was that?”  Free of icy disdain, his voice was low and mellifluous.

This close, she had to lift her chin and arch her neck to meet his gaze.  The man had to be at least six feet, three inches tall, shorter than Piers but still inches taller than she was.  His dark eyes were stunning, almost black and full of questions.

“The sparks?” she ventured.  “I’ve been told that it’s something in the blood, passed down from a Scottish ancestress who was said to be a witch.  It seems more Tesla to me than that, but I can’t explain it any more than I can command it at will.  If you’d like to venture a guess, please, feel free to do so…, Sir, is it?  I assume that you are called Sir here.”

That earned her a genuine grin.  “At Replay, you would call me Sir, and I would call you trouble.”

“Oh?”

He tightened his grip when she tried to take back her hand.

She arched a brow at his impertinence.  “And why is that?”

“Because I strained my back this week and I’m under doctor’s order to take it easy.  There’s nothing easy about you.”

She couldn’t tell if he meant that as flattery or not.  “You never know.  I might surprise you.”

He looked at her, considering.  “I don’t doubt it.  I don’t doubt it one bit.”

When he finally released her hand, she curled her fingers into a fist, as if she could capture and keep the feel of him.  She’d felt the sparks before, but never as strongly as just now.  Then again, she’d never met a man quite like Richard Benjamin Franklin.

 

SEXCERPT:

Tory took him in her mouth, licking his length and sucking his cock until his skin gleamed with her saliva.  She kissed the tip and crawled up his body.  Reaching between them, she grasped his erection and held it.  Parting her folds with his crown, she found her opening and slid down onto his shaft.

He was too much for her, but she was greedy for his possession.  She remembered how totally he’d filled her.  How he’d claimed her mouth, her pussy, her arse.  How he’d taken his time, being careful to not hurt her with that massive erection of his.  She’d never handled a man his size.  She hadn’t been certain that she could.

Somehow, they managed to fit.

What a sensation that was, being filled completely by a man who was focused on her and committed to meeting her needs.  It just kept getting better.  He more than filled her, but her body delighted in accommodating him, stretching to allow his possession.  He played with her breasts, squeezing her mounds, catching the tips between his fingers, pinching, tugging, and twisting them, sending a searing bolt of sexual energy to her root and belly chakras.

She did the same, twisting the hard peaks of his nipples and feeling his cock swell inside her.  Leaning down, she took a pebbled tip in her mouth, teasing it with her teeth, flicking it with her tongue, closing her lips and sucking on his sensitive flesh.

“Yes,” he grated, fisting her hair and pressing her face to his chest.  “God damn, that’s good.  Suck it, duchess.  Suck me and fuck me.”

She slid a hand between them to finger her clit, rubbing circles over her sensitive button of flesh.  The pressure built.  Her body stiffened, poised on the edge of release.

“Please, Sir,” she begged him.  “I need…I need…”

His fist pulled on her hair, turning her face up to meet his dark gaze.  The expression on his face was fierce, with nostrils flared, his jaw clamped, and breath hissing between his teeth.  Beneath her, she felt his testes tighten, signaling his own eminent release.

“Come for me,” he ordered.

She came with a cry, shattering around him and over him, needing his touch to keep her anchored, his fingers to pick up the pieces and put them back into place.

 

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