Hi everyone. Sorry I’ve been sketchy with sharing the snippets lately. I’ve been SO embroiled in writing this current duet of books, Waking Kiss and Fever Dream. I call it the “City Ballet” series since it’s set in the world of ballet, and yes, for once, I’m writing a series so they’ll come out one after the other. Both books are very sexy and emotional and I hope everyone loves them.

Today I’m sharing a snippet from Waking Kiss. I’m going to reveal more about the book as the release next month gets closer, but there is definitely a lot of teaching and “sex mentoring” that goes on. I find that incredibly hot. If you do too, you’ll love this book.

     “Okay.” My fingers slipped from hers to circle her wrist. “That first ‘B’ in BDSM stands for bondage. Being tied up or restrained is a common kinky fantasy. Do you think you’d like that?”

     “I don’t know. I thought the dominant decided everything in BDSM. I didn’t think you’d give me so many choices.”

     “Does that appeal to you? Not having choices?”

     She shook her head. “No. Yes. I don’t know.”

     “Let’s try it out and see.” It only took me a second to grab both her hands and trap them over her head. “Can you get away?”

     She pulled with her arms first. She was strong but she was no match for me. When she couldn’t escape my hands she used her body to try to wrench away. Before she started using her legs I cinched them under one of mine. She really started fighting then and while I let her squirm around a little, she couldn’t get very far. The more she struggled, the harder I got. “Okay, enough,” I said when I reached critical mass. “Be still now.”

     She was breathing fast and so was I. I leaned down and kissed her, and she smiled against my lips. “You’re strong,” she said when we parted.

     “So are you.” My eyes were used to the darkness now. My leg was still slung over hers and my erection was about two inches from her hip. I desperately wanted to jab it between her legs but she was jittery as hell and I doubted she’d welcome it yet. This seduction was turning out to be a marathon, not a sprint. I sighed and scooted back from her. “That’s physical bondage. Pretty exciting, right? Especially when you’re having other things done to you at the same time. There’s also mental bondage, which can get even more complex.”

     She rubbed her wrists where I’d held them. “Is that like, messing with people’s minds?”

     “In a way. It’s like saying, I’m going to touch you wherever I want and you’re not allowed to move a muscle. Or working your partner into a frenzy but not allowing her to come until you say she can. The only thing that’s holding them back is their own willpower. Their desire to submit. To obey.”

     She was silent a moment. “That’s really intense.”

     “Some people play really intensely. Dominant, submissives, masters, slaves, even ponies and toys and fucksluts. You name it. Other people just top and bottom for physical pleasure or adrenaline and call it a day.”

     “Like Rubio?”

     “Yes. He’s too impulsive and selfish to get into the lifestyle-role stuff. But he’s a responsible top. He finds like-minded people and makes sure they enjoy themselves.” I shrugged. “Different strokes.”

     “You’re not like that.” It wasn’t a question.

     I sighed and rubbed my forehead. “Yes, I’m different. I prefer to engage with my partners on a deeper level.”

So, you’ll have to wait for the release to see how deep he really goes. 🙂

If you’d like to read a blurb and add the book to your TBR list on Goodreads, just click the cover below and it will take you to the site. At the moment I’m estimating a mid-June release. I’ll let everyone know if that changes!

If you follow me here or on social media you know that I love artistic circus almost as much as I love ballet. Aerial acts are my favorite, so when I set out to write a book in the world of cirque I wanted to write about aerial artists, and I happened to choose aerial silks. But there are tons of other awesome aerial acts out there, with hoops or variations of trapeze. Some of my favorite pics:

Then there is this photo that reminds me so much of the scene in Cirque de Minuit when Theo takes Kelsey out to the woods to practice for the first time with silks in the trees:

If you haven’t read the book, here’s a little snippet from the scene:

     He explained about climbs, wraps, and drops, about flying and balancing, about friction and contortion, about elegance and the pose. They were up and down off the silks. He demonstrated some tricks by himself way up high, fearlessly, and did other things near the ground with his hands on her, pushing and pulling at her body to show how it was done. His fingers traced her muscles, arranging her arms, pressing on her shoulder. He smelled like sweat and cologne, and fresh air. Kelsey started to resent the silk fabric between them, wishing to touch, unimpeded, the startling hardness of his body. The unexpected softness of his skin.

     You want?

     Oh, God, yes. I want.

     “You paying attention?”

     His sharp voice brought her fantasies into focus. She met his gaze, caught fixating on the pulse at the base of his neck. “Yes,” she lied. “I’m paying attention.” I want. I want.

     His gaze dissected her. He would have to be blind to not perceive how badly she craved him. His rough kiss, his body bearing down on hers. He stared at her, and she could see the animal wildness he usually kept in check, written right in the taut planes of his face. He guided her down off the silks, hurrying her with impatient hands. She leaned away from him as they stood, a self-protective movement.

     He drew her back, his fingers spread against her waist, then pushing at her waistband. He plunged one hand down the front of her leggings. She put a hand on his wrist but he didn’t stop, and she didn’t really want him to.

     “You said we can’t do this, no? Because we work together?” He mocked her, his fingers slipping through the evidence of her attraction, her need.

     “I didn’t say we c–can’t,” she stammered. “I said we shouldn’t.” She drew in a soft breath as he found her clit. He manipulated it expertly, lightly, giving her bursts of pleasure that teased but didn’t satisfy. She panted under his desultory gaze. The silks billowed free behind him. She watched them in a kind of trance as his fingers left her. He stripped off her shirt and bra, peeled down her fitted pants. He wasn’t gentle, or rough…just intent.

     Theo lifted one of her hands. “Take it. Hold the silk above your head.” She didn’t understand at first what he wanted. Impatiently, he wrapped her hand, locking one wrist in the white length. He took the other silk and this time Kelsey bound herself, gritting her teeth against chattering even though she was warm. Hot. She was burning up for him.

     “Hold on to the silk,” he ordered. Then, in one liquid motion, he went to his knees and lifted her legs over his shoulders.

     Oh Jesus fucking God!

Aaaand it goes on from there. 😉

If you haven’t read Cirque de Minuit yet, it’s a really hot and often raunchy book–but you may want to wait until the end of this year or early next year when I have the next book in the series ready to release. OR you can just go read it now! Click the cover below to find a blurb and buy links. 

I have to start this with a huge THANK YOU to all my readers. Disciplining the Duchess has been out for over a month and to my complete surprise it stayed in the top 100-Erotica on Amazon for over a month (!) and was also a AllRomanceEbooks bestseller. Without your reviews, retweets, and recommendations, this never could have happened. As you probably know, I’m not out there tearing up the social media, organizing street armies or paying for the services of a public relations agent. I’m mostly just acting like a dumbass on Twitter. (If you follow me on there you know it’s true!) I’ve always counted on readers being kind enough to recommend my books when they enjoy them, and I think I have the best readers in the whole world.

Since Disciplining the Duchess was so well received, I thought I’d feature my other Regency-era historical book this week for Snippet Sunday. Lily Mine was a pleasure for me to write, partly because a wonderful friend inspired it, and partly because the story came to me so easily. Lord Ashbourne, Lily Mine‘s hero, was a tad less prickly than the stern Duke of Courtland, but no less alpha when push came to shove.

One of the most delicious things about Lily and Lord Ashbourne’s story is the horrible awkwardness when they first launch their scheme for Lily to play the part of his missing wife–even the servants are kept in the dark.

     Lily stifled a yawn and Mrs. Gertrude came to help her to bed. There was an awkward moment when the old woman stubbornly led her to Lord Ashbourne’s chamber despite Lily’s quiet protestations. She brought water for washing and laid out Lily’s nightclothes, although Lily would not have dreamed of undressing in his room.

     Instead she stood by the window for nearly half an hour, too afraid to leave and be beset upon by Mrs. Gertrude. She used the time to look around his chamber. There was a large bed with luxurious covers of blue and gold velvet, a good amount of ornate furniture, trunks and armoires she assumed were full of his clothing and things. When at last she decided she simply must creep away to another bedroom, the door swung open. Again Lily was caught in a place she did not belong.

     “Mrs. Gertrude led me here,” she explained quickly, going to his bed to gather up the filmy, lacy nightclothes before he saw them.

     “Yes. Lilliana slept here. While she was here with me, anyway, which was admittedly not very long.” He frowned. “It is a problem. There is no bed in Lilliana’s room. I was determined she and I would not have one of those marriages where we slept in separate rooms and I crept off to prostitutes every night.” He stopped. “Pardon me. What an uncouth subject to discuss.”

     “I think that was most admirable of you,” Lily said. “It’s what I would have preferred if I had been a married lady. I think it is better for husbands and wives to be close. To be in love even. Not that I know anything about it,” she added, embarrassed. How droll of her to opine about the best way to be married when she was bound for certain spinsterhood.

     But he smiled at her, and it was not a mocking smile. “Are you a romantic, Lily?” His gaze was so warm and fond, it made something inside her react. She clasped her hands together to still their trembling. It was only natural that he should affect her, wasn’t it? They had spent the entire day together becoming familiar, becoming friends of a sort. He hadn’t gone out of his way to make her feel like a commoner either, not for one moment. She smiled back at him.

     “I am a hopeless romantic.”

     By the soft light of the fire he regarded her, the flames illuminating the muted flecks of gold in his dark hair. “It is a shame I’ve spent the entire day telling you about Lilliana, and learned nothing of Lily in return.”

     He teased her now. Perhaps he even flirted, wonder of wonders. Because it wasn’t true. He had learned many things about her–that she couldn’t read and write, that she loved Lilyvale’s gardens, that she was not adept at chess. That she was not very convincing yet at playing the highborn lady. She had even confided in him about her family affairs. Well, about everything but that. She couldn’t tell him about that. But she was no longer afraid of the same coarse treatment at his hands. He’d treated her with nothing but kindness and respect. Even now, in his bedroom, she felt safe, but she knew it was terribly inappropriate for her to be here, pretend wife or not.

    She moved toward the door. “I should not disturb you further if you wish to retire, my lord.”

     “You are not disturbing me. Well, aside from your habit of addressing me as ‘my lord.’ But I suppose we are still somewhat strangers in an intimate way.”

     A very intimate way…

If you liked Disciplining the Duchess, you might enjoy Lily Mine too. I hope you’ll check it out by clicking the book cover link below.

I’ve been so busy lately–in a good way! Rather than think of something coherent to talk about this week, I’m just going to post one of my fave snippets from Mercy.

     “Matthew!” I was shocked to open the door and find him standing there. He’d never been to my place. It was a mess. I looked like hell in my ratty pajamas, my eyes red and swollen from crying. “I really can’t play.”

     “I know.” He breezed into my apartment, a market bag in his hand. “I haven’t come to fuck you.”

      He reached into the bag with a flourish, like a magician about to pull a rabbit from a hat. Instead he pulled out a pint of ice cream. I burst into tears.

     “I swear I’ll throw this at your head.” He turned his back on me. “Get into bed.” He rooted through my kitchen drawers until he found a spoon and returned, crawling under the covers beside me. It was just a twin, which made him seem even larger than usual, and he had to scoot close to me to not fall off the edge. He looked out of place in my tiny, messy apartment, and yet, right at home. Thinking about that, how easily he adapted to my squalid little surroundings, made me burst into emotional tears again.

     “Enough. Quit your crying. What happened?” I think he thought I was crying about my knee. I explained how I’d fallen, that I wanted to stay off my knee as a precaution. He was highly suspicious even then of my injuries, the pain he suspected I felt.

     “How long will you be off?”

     “Just tonight. Long enough for it to rest. To make sure there’s no serious damage.”

     He looked at me still, hard and assessing, and then decided not to speak. Instead, he pressed the freezing pint of ice cream to my nipple, and smiled broadly when I shrieked.

     “Are you hungry?”

     “Yes,” I said, although I wasn’t. He ended up eating most of the ice cream himself. Ice cream wasn’t something dancers ate before bed, but I took a few small bites to mollify him.

     “Look at you. Take a real bite!”

     “I am!”

     He scooped a huge spoonful from the bottom of the carton. “Open up.”

     I laughed as he brandished the spoon at me. “Matthew, stop!”

     “Open your fucking mouth.” He fed me the spoonful, letting me lick it off slowly instead of shoving it all into my mouth the way I think he wanted to. I teased him a little, using my tongue to do things to that ice cream that I usually only did to him. He chuckled. “That’s right, you eat it all, you little fuck.”

     “You’re trying to make me fat.”

     “Yes, that’s exactly what I’m doing.”

     We laughed there together on my small, lumpy bed. I looked over at him, Mr. Matthew Norris sitting in my pitiful apartment, and I thought I would just die. I was so hopelessly in love with him. I looked away, because his blue eyes were bright and burning. Don’t look at me. You’ll see.

     “I wish we were down in my basement,” he said in a voice gruff with lust.

     “I do too, Matthew.”

Oh, sigh. Matthew Norris. If only he were real…

I was happy to be invited to write a guest post at The Book Enthusiast blog this week. (www.thebookenthusiast.net) Since she was doing a “Dark reads” series and running a giveaway of my Mephisto series, I decided to write about the wonders and difficulties of writing M/s, or Master/slave. If you click the link above, you can read my post entitled “The Dark Dance of Master/slave Romance.”

If you’re familiar with my books, then you know I’ve only written three serious M/s books and those are my Mephisto books. One thing about the Master/slave dynamic is that it can be really emotionally conflicted, especially if you’re trying to stick to protocols and structure while your heart is crying out for closeness. I found it so emotionally conflicted that I couldn’t resist writing the same story twice, from the different points of view. Molly’s view was pretty easy, since I’m also an s-type, so I wrote it first, in Club Mephisto. Mephisto’s viewpoint was more difficult, so Molly’s Lips was a couple years coming, and I probably never would have completed it at all if not for my friend Ingrid’s pokes.

In the end I was happy I wrote both viewpoints. I thought I did justice to the way a real Master and slave might struggle in this kind of “loaner slave” situation. If you haven’t read the books because you think they might be too “dark,” don’t worry. There are light moments too, and of course a happily-ever-after in Burn for You.

In this snippet, Mephisto’s the only one talking, because he’s put Molly on speech restriction, and orgasm restriction too. That doesn’t prevent him from talking to her–and taunting her. But he also explains to her why he does what he does.

     I know a lot about you, girl,” he said, rubbing his chin against her soft dark curls. “You’d probably be surprised. I know your maiden name was Molly Grace Belden, and your married name is Molly Grace Copeland. I know your birthday is April seventh, and that you were born and raised in Bloomington. I know you have an environmental science degree from IU.” With every word, she seemed to draw up tighter and tighter. “I know something else about you,” he said. “I know you didn’t really come yesterday.”

     He waited for a reaction, any bodily reaction, but she only turned her head a little more into the curve of his shoulder. He cupped her pussy and sighed. He didn’t like her withdrawal, her surrender. It was too weak. He nudged her back so she couldn’t hide her face.

     “You’re wondering why I punished you when I knew?” he asked. “I was punishing you for speaking, for protesting. For your tone. And because it pleases me to hurt you sometimes just because I can. Just because I enjoy pushing you to your limits and watching the breakdown.” His fingers moved again on her clit. How much she must hate him… He laughed softly and brought his fingers to her nose for a moment so she could breathe in her feminine scent. Her needy scent. “It’s the same thing with the orgasm denial, kitten. I enjoy watching the build up, seeing how far I can tease and wrap you around my fingers. How much I can make you dance. The denial is just a tool for winding you up so I can watch you writhe and wriggle for me.”

     She pressed her face back against his neck, making a small distressed sound. She moved her hips, just a little, but he didn’t stop his lazy torment. His finger slid across her taut little button and down into the cleft of her pussy. He tightened his arm on her waist when she moved her hips and started to tremble. 

     “You see?” He chuckled against her ear. “Not letting you come…it’s like the rubber band on those little wooden airplane toys: You twist and twist them until you can’t twist them anymore, then you let it go and watch them fly around the room.”

     She pulled away from him then, the first real sign of rebellion. He liked it, but at the same time, he had to put it down. He drew his hand out of her harness and grabbed her face.

     “You have to trust me, girl. I think you don’t trust me. I know we haven’t had a lot of time together, but I’m being careful. Perhaps you don’t see it, but I am.” He reached for her waist and tightened the harness. Enough cuddle time. “Listen, I want you to really clean and straighten up the play space today. There’s a big party tomorrow. A private party. An orgy,” he finally clarified, laughing at the sudden hope that spread across her face. Yes, it would have been the perfect occasion to release her from orgasm restriction. But—

     “No, you won’t yet be permitted to come,” he said to put down her false hope.

 
Sigh. Those mean, mean D-types. Why do we love them so much? But we do!

I hope you’ll check out my Mephisto series and all the other dark reads being featured this week at The Book Enthusiast. And don’t forget, there are still a few days left in the Mercy giveaway at Amber’s Reading Room (click!)

AND–if you want to read Molly’s Lips: Club Mephisto Retold without a big financial outlay, remember it’s always FREE at Smashwords.com (click to download your free copy in any format you wish!)

I picked Cait and the Devil this week for two reasons. First of all, I released my new historical spanking novel Disciplining the Duchess, so I’ve had Cait and the Devil and Lily Mine on the brain since they’re also historical novels. Second, I received three separate notes this week from readers who’d recently finished Cait and the Devil and had the sweetest things to say about it.

It’s funny, but when I was writing it, I was aware that I was coloring WAY outside the lines of erotic romance, and certainly outside the lines of historical romance, but at the time I didn’t have any readers so I thought, what will it matter? It’s fun, it’s silly, it’s horny and it contains just about everything that turns me on. Back then I wrote without considering my audience, or reviews, or reader reactions or any of those things, and I guess that’s why I’ll always love good old Cait and her Devil. It’s just…over the top. 🙂

One cool thing about Cait and the Devil is that it starts with a “sight-unseen” wedding. This was a long-time erotic fantasy of mine–the bedraggled lady turning up on the doorstep of a man who is handsome and commanding but does not want to marry her. Within hours they have to marry anyway, usually at the edict of a king or due to some non-negotiable circumstance. (It’s a very medieval trope.) Of course, over time they fall in love, but there’s something about starting a marriage when the various parties are either irritated or scared to death. This scene takes place during the hurried preparations for the impromptu wedding, as Duncan (the Devil) chats with his man Connor.

     Connor nudged Duncan as Henna led his bride into the hall. By God, he recognized the dress at once, but the girl wearing it, that was something else altogether. Gone was the dust covered urchin of the courtyard, replaced by an astonishingly beautiful woman.

     And she was a woman, not a child at all. Lenore’s dress revealed that, even swimming in it as she was. Lenore had been taller so the material pooled at Cait’s feet, but the bust and hips of the dress were filled out by delicious curves.

     But no, it wouldn’t do for her to wear this dress. Not tonight. Lenore was in his memory enough as it was. He shot a reproachful look at Henna, beckoning her to his side.

     “It was the only dress that was suitable,” she insisted.

     “It is not suitable. It belonged to my dead wife.”

     “The dress does not matter,” Henna argued under her breath. “What matters is the woman inside it.”

     “The dress does matter!”

     “Why?” asked Henna.

     Because I hated her. Because she made me miserable. Because she died. “Because I say so. She cannot wear Lenore’s dress for this ceremony. Find her another. I don’t care if it’s yours, or the laundress’s, or the cook’s, as long as it’s not Lenore’s.”

     “She needs a fine dress for the wedding!”

     “Henna, you know I love you well but do not test me on this. Find her another. I order it. Now.” He looked over at the girl. Caitlyn. Cait. She watched them arguing with an anxious look on her face. As if she had not been through enough, he thought. Now he would make her be married in a washerwoman’s dress.

     Henna led her from the hall and Cait let herself be dragged along without complaint. He could see she was tired, absolutely exhausted. He put his head in his hands and rubbed his eyes. His friend Connor chuckled.

     “Duncan, it’s not the end of the world, man. She’s half a comely thing anyway, isn’t she though? If you’ve got to take a wife, it’s nice to have a pretty one to look at.”

     “Lenore was a pretty wife,” Duncan replied.

     “Ah, well,” Connor sighed.

If you’ve read Cait and the Devil, you know his issues with his late wife Lenore color a lot of his initial interactions with Cait and lead to some pretty fucked up sex scenes (and misunderstandings). It’s definitely an interesting journey these two take. If you’re up for some early, early Annabel Joseph, check it out! Click the book cover below to read a blurb and find buy links.

And don’t forget that Disciplining the Duchess came out last Thursday! Different era, same hotness factor. Buy it, love it, tell all your friends about it. Historical perversity rules.