Monday, 24 November 2014

Fated #newrelease by Allyson Young #eroticwestern @evernightpub

Happy Monday, folks. As ever I have the perfect antidote to those Monday blues right here. We all love cowboys, right? Allyson Young is here to tell us about her new release, the erotic Western, Fated.


Reece Murdoch is back in Barrister, Wyoming after his military tour. Ostensibly returning to take the position of Sheriff, he plans to confront the woman of his dreams. After what they’d shared, he’d foolishly believed Candace Grant would wait, but all his heartfelt letters were met with silence. And now she is avoiding him and freezing him out.

Candy Grant is never going to allow Sheriff Murdoch a civil conversation, let alone a discussion. Oh, he’s interested—probably thinking he can waltz right back into her life. Except he’d gutted her, leaving six years earlier without warning and only eight scribbled words. She’s since lived a fast, shallow existence she’s determined to continue, and never get hurt again.

Reece needs a plan, one to address Candy’s propensity to speed while asserting his lawful authority—with handcuffs and a night of house arrest. Will the truth set them free?


Reese Murdoch slouched comfortably against the broken-in seat of the county’s second best cruiser, gripping the wheel with one big hand.
He found himself sighing. Barrister wasn’t a bad place. Born and raised there, he knew pretty much all the inhabitants. Being elected as Sheriff had been a no brainer, being a military man home from Iraq and all, presumably well versed in weapons and leadership. Both true, except he was hampered by a paltry budget, and the people he’d sworn to serve and protect were scattered over a huge part of the state. Good thing the work wasn’t onerous.
No doubt that would change over time, people being what they were, but he was bored for the most part. The one thing—person—who could easily obliterate that boredom didn’t deign to recognize either his existence or his authority, and he hadn’t decided which plan to pursue in that regard. It’d been months, but if he’d learned anything in the military, it was that an offensive had a better chance of succeeding if one gathered solid intelligence and formulated a careful plan of attack. He wryly admitted he’d come home because of Candace Grant, if only to determine why she’d ignored all of his efforts to get in touch with her over the years. Some might call it closure. He just plain wanted her, and knew enough about women to know that while her demeanor said one thing, something else was operating behind that icy exterior.
  In the meantime, there was the odd drunk and disorderly to deal with, complaints about cattle rustling to investigate, a few domestics—and didn’t he hate those—and some traffic violations.
The road dipped to accommodate an arroyo, and he rose up out of it to crest the slight hill. And speaking of traffic violations, the unmistakable silver Bimmer hammering in his direction, trailing a dusty rooster trail, caused him to grind his teeth and war with his responding arousal. Damn her. She was going to kill herself one day in that stupid car, maybe before he put the final touches on his plan. Flipping on his lights, he considered his strategy, noting the way the smaller vehicle’s hood dipped in response to the application of brakes. She’d been flying along.
She pulled the Bimmer over, and he drifted on by to pull a three point turn and come up behind her. Candace hadn’t made eye contact at all, staring straight ahead through the windshield, and he figured she had to know it was him. She didn’t cut his deputies dead. He took his time, watching Candace’s profile in the side mirror, willing his professionalism to the fore when all he really wanted to do was drag her back to the cruiser, handcuffed, and take her home. Someplace safe—and easily accessible for both their pleasure. The plan suddenly came together.
Approaching the open window, he spoke in a matter-of-fact tone. “You were hitting seventy, Candace. We’ve had this discussion before.”
She didn’t reply, instead thrusting her paperwork toward him. Her picture on the license didn’t fit with the stony visage looking dead ahead. Despite the customary, don’t smile, hair tucked behind your ears, dictates of the DMV, Candace’s full mouth, with its eminently bitable bottom lip somehow quirked up at the corners, and there was no mistaking the sparkle in those baby blues. Just as he remembered her—full of life and joy, bubbly, vivacious, and all those adjectives people applied to her. But then, he’d admit he’d hardly given her anything to smile about, primarily because she wouldn’t give him the time of day. That was gonna change.
Tugging the license and registration from her stiff fingers, he decided to play her game. “Step out of the vehicle, Miss Grant.”
That garnered him a wary look, a quick glance that she instantly modified into boredom. He didn’t miss the way she flickered her eyes to her watch. Was she meeting someone? On her way to a hot date? Sheridan lay in that direction, and whatever Candace got up to, she didn’t do it in Barrister. The rumors he’d overheard flourished. Reece had access to a different form of contacts and knew the truth of some of those rumors. He wasn’t surprised about Candace’s interests, merely disappointed he hadn’t been able to guide her and take the journey with her. But he’d done what he had to back then. That she hadn’t accepted his explanation and apology, wouldn’t even give him the opportunity to discuss it further, grated him raw.
He opened her door and stood back, breaking procedure, instantly grateful for the way the door frame concealed his sudden erection, his cock saluting the vision emerging from the Bimmer without any regard for his bigger brain. The top she wore hardly covered her attributes, cried out for him to touch the silky fabric and tug on those discreetly concealed laces. The length of shapely leg revealed by the short skirt flirting around her thighs forced his hands to grip the metal until he thought it might groan beneath his grasp.
Once again his woman was on the prowl, and he was damned if he’d let her take what she was offering up to Sheridan or any other place loaded with men who couldn’t possibly appreciate her the way he planned. Disappointment again soured him, and he impatiently shoved it aside. He’d waited long enough.
“What?” A hint of nervousness whispered through the aloof question.
“This is the third time, Miss Grant. I assume you recall the consequences are for persistent speeding.”
Narrowing, blue eyes locked with his, then a flush of pink colored her décolletage and rose up the long, lovely column of her throat to paint her cheeks. She spoke between set lips, criminally thinning that lush bounty, another crime she’d pay for in the end.
“Give me the ticket, Sheriff. I’ll pay it like I did the others. Help out with your salary.”
 “Step out and assume the position.”

Available from Evernight Publishing

About the author:

Allyson Young lives in cottage country in Manitoba, Canada with her husband of many years and numerous pets. She worked in the human services all across Canada and has seen the best and worst of what people bring to the table. Allyson has written for years, mostly short stories and poetry, published in small newspapers and the like, although her work appeared in her high school yearbooks too! After reading an erotic romance, quite by accident, she decided to try her hand at penning erotica.

Allyson will write until whatever she has inside her is satisfied- when all the heroes man up and all the heroines get what they deserve. Love isn’t always sweet, and Allyson favours the dark side of romance.


Sunday, 23 November 2014

#SexySnippets from Auctioned to the Spanish Dom “Dulces sueños, pequeña.” #aftercare #newrelease @sirenbookstrand #bdsm #mfm

Happy Sunday, folks. It's time to bring you some sexy snippets, and I thought I would show you Pedro's tender side. Aftercare is an important element after any scene, but especially so after one as intense as Pedro and Peyton had at the club. This Master sadist was hard on her and Peyton's butt is rather tender. In fact she'll have some spectacular bruises, and Pedro is doing his best to minimize her discomfort.
Having brought her back to her flat, he's already run her a bath and fed her, and now he's giving her a massage, as any good sadist would...


He ran his hands along that part of her ass and squeezed the tender flesh. Heat shot through her veins and her pussy clenched, and she bucked into his hands.
Hija de mi vida, you’re so fucking responsive, pequeñita.”

Peyton’s stomach tightened in excitement at the strained quality of his voice and all thoughts of bruises flew out of her head, as she gave herself up to his whispered words in Spanish and the magic his hands worked on her body. By the time he was finished, a sense of peace had settled over her, as her tired muscles relaxed, and she found herself drifting away again. Pedro lifted the hair off her neck and kissed her just under her ear. The action made her smile, and the last thing she heard before exhaustion finally claimed her were his whispered, “Dulces sueños, pequeña.”

Peyton King had a simple plan. Sign up for the Spectrum Auctions and finally get the story that will get her the promotion she craves.

It’s just her luck that the person who wins her is Pedro Hernandez. The Spanish Dom has been starring in her erotic dreams ever since they first butted heads in her professional life, and he proves impossible to resist, if downright scary.

The sadist in Pedro is looking forward to teaching the prickly reporter a lesson or two. However, when Peyton turns out to be a masochist her instinctive responses floor the experienced Dom. Maybe it’s just his age catching up with him, but this young reporter gets under his skin like no other sub ever has, and their play smashes through both of their emotional defences in record time.

When their relationship is put to the test, Pedro has to decide if he can trust his pequeñita.

She is a reporter after all…

Available at Bookstrand


Do check out the other Authors participating today, and why not join us next week? Sexy Snippets are seven sexy sentences taken from a work in progress or published work.

Saturday, 22 November 2014

Interview with a Dom @RavenMcAllan #newrelease Secrets Remembered @Totally_Bound #Diomhair #bdsm

Happy Saturday, folks. The awesome Raven McAllan is on my blog and she's interviewing her latest hero from her fantastic series Diomhair. Aiden's story is told in book three, Secrets Remembered, and shhhh, don't tell her, but he might just be my favourite of them all so far. She always gets the nicest jobs, I tell you. Well, I would have been far too tongue tied to interview him myself.

So, without further ado.... here they are.


I love coming to chat to Doris. Usually, I try to get one of my characters to interview her, but this time she got me. She said no grandson cuddles if I didn't do it myself.
Here we go then.

(Yep, I'm mean like that. *sniggers*)

Who would have thought a white van could play such a big part in bringing people together?
Ailsa and Aiden didn't have a clue.
I've persuaded Aiden to talk to me, and explain a little bit about the mystery. Or should I say, Alisa persuaded him. I just got all shivery when he looked at me in 'that way' and resisted the urge to let him take over. He has such a way with him, you know?
R: So, Aidan what did you think when you first saw Ailsa?
A: Why isn't she on her knees.
(The expression wicked evil grin could have been formed just for him. It's in the eyes, and the way his lips curl up so very sexily and…oh my, he's giving me 'that look'.)
R: Ah, right. And then?"
A: How did she get here. Then, before you ask, I was glad she was there, and I plotted how to get her on her knees.
R: Was it easy?
A: Narrows his eyes. No, but nothing in this life that’s worth having is easy. It has to be Ailsa's decision. I wasn't going to affect it in any way. Grin. Well, not except by showing her what we could have.
R: And?
A: Well you know, you wrote our story for us. For anyone else. Shrug. They'll need to read Secrets Remembered to find out.
I got the impression that a clam is easier to prise open than Aidan. But in the interests of this blog, I'm nothing if not persistent.
R: And the white van?
A: Is white. And annoying. Pause We really don’t know what it's all about. (He does that all out Dom look again. I tell you my knees are shaking.)
A: And dear Raven, if you do discover what it's all about before us, or think you do, you will tell us, won't you.
R: Oh yes.
A: Good. Then are you busy? Do you want to come and play?
R: What do you think…Sir.

Here's the series blurb…
Secret. What's happens there stays there.
It doesn't matter whether you want to learn or teach, be in control or controlled, Diomhair could be the place for you.
The ruined castle deep in the Scottish countryside had been rebuilt into an exclusive, private, BDSM club, where people could learn about and enjoy the lifestyle.
Not everyone approved, and not everyone appreciated it, but for those who did and fit the criteria, it was somewhere to go and be themselves, relax and play.
And if you found love there, your own perfect match, well that could only be a bonus.
For isn't the secret to true love the biggest secret of all?

And the book blurb…
What comes first your happiness or your job?
Ailsa McLagan is sent undercover to investigate possible shady dealings at the private BDSM Club Diomhair. The last thing she expects is to be confronted by one of the Masters there. Not only does he make her want her to sink to her knees, but he seems to see straight through her disguise, too.
Aidan is instantly attracted to the clueless Sub he stumbles upon. Even though he knows she is hiding her true identity he can't help but push her to discover her limits, and introduce her to the delights of subbing to him.
Scared by the intensity if her reaction, Ailsa runs and all seems lost.
When the truth is revealed, can they work towards a true Dom/sub relationship, even though theirs started on a lie?
And of course, a wee tease…

Ailsa couldn't take her eyes off the tiny teardrop shaped orb of molten wax as it fell towards her. It was all well and good being told to regulate your breathing, absorb the pain and breathe through it, but it didn't help at all when you had no idea what it all meant. Why hadn't she fessed up and said she wasn't the sub?
Because that would have dropped her even deeper in the mire and he night have been the one to say red.
The wax hit her chest and she gasped, made a noise between a sob and a scream and stifled the swear words that came to mind. The sting wasn't a sting. It was pain. Red hot radiating pain that filled her, and made her breath come in short sharp pants, and caused her to pull at her restraints.
Her tongue felt like cotton wool, which filled her mouth and made it dry and unusable. It was hard to clamp down on the panic she felt. How could she shout red when her voice wouldn't work? Even the fact Aidan was staring at her intently didn't help. He said he could read her, dammit, so why wasn't he stopping?
It was like something out of a horror film as the next drop of wax, and the next got closer and closer to her body, and hit.
Onto the swell of her breasts, one by one and close to each other. The sting struck, the pain began…Ailsa coughed. "Ahhh, ohh r…" she stopped speaking. The pain was different. Oh it stung but the sting was like someone was trailing their finger over her skin, creating tiny pulses of pleasure.
Aidan straightened the candle up so the wax gathered in the shallow dip by the wick.
"Colour?" His voice wasn't steady and that tiny hint of vulnerability resonated with Ailsa.
"Green, oh my, argh." She was babbling but didn't give a damn. "More please. Take my top off." She knew without a shadow of a doubt she wanted to see what he would achieve without having to try and miss the strip of cloth that covered her breasts. "Really, Sir, green. I want to feel it all. You were right, the pain isn't an ouchie pain, it's an 'I want to feel more' pain. Green."
Would he do as she wanted? How on earth could he, without untying her and spoiling the moment?
Three seconds later, Ailsa realised she shouldn't have worried. After all he was a Dom and probably used to subs changing their minds like they changed their knickers. Aidan nodded, put the candle down in a safety holder on the table, and lifted a wicked looking knife from the table. The blade was a good nine inches long, with a serrated edge and a sharp point and the handle was thick and indented for fingers and thumbs, to enable the user to clasp it safely.
It was one thing to tell yourself that he would be more than competent when he used it, another not to find your heart beating faster when the tip slid almost lazily across your skin and the point lifted the wax that clung there. Aidan flicked the cold pieces away like he was brushing crumbs from a tablecloth. Then he slid the blade of the knife under her top between her breasts and pushed upward. The material parted as if it was held together by a thread, not a tight knit weave, and slid over her sensitive breasts and nipples to allow cool air to caress them like a lover's kiss. Aidan smiled and rested the cold flat of the blade over her heart and moved it carefully over her skin.
"One day, I'll scribe you." He said the words so quietly that Ailsa thought he was talking to himself. "Ready to be decorated, pet?"
No more mention of scribing? Ailsa wasn't sure whether to be pleased or disappointed. Mind you her idea as to what it meant was somewhat hazy. Scratches that didn't last? She made a mental note to research it. Hold on woman, learn to accept and like one thing at once. Walk, don't run. Aidan cleared his throat, and Ailsa realised she hadn't answered him.
 "Oh, yes, Sir." She regulated her breathing, a lot happier now she knew what to expect, and relaxed into the hard mattress as best as she could. How she wished her head was raised a little so she could see better.
Was he a mind reader? Aidan replaced the knife in its cover and bent to reach under the bed. With a whirring noise, the top third tilted a little, just enough for Ailsa to be able to look down her body. Then he stood back, picked up two candles and held one in each hand.
He didn't speak again, but began to rotate and move his hands. It was mesmeric to watch as he twisted and turned them and wax slid and slipped down the length of their candles. Tiny granules formed and twisted and almost shimmered as they spiralled downward towards her skin.
When the first one hit, Ailsa stopped thinking and let her senses fill her instead. The sting, the tug on her heart, the way her inner muscles tightened and her pussy throbbed all morphed into one hazy, arousal filled sensation of pleasure.
With each new arc of wax, somewhere else began to sting and sing.  Aidan knew what he was doing, and created a web of wax to decorate her skin. Nothing formal but a beautiful intricate design that any abstract artist would be proud of. Something as good as an old master by a new one. That thought would have made her snigger except she didn't want to miss one second of what was happening.
Then, suddenly it was over. Aidan put down the candles, untied her and wrapped the blanket Ross had handed him around her, without removing the wax.
Ailsa began to shake, and burst into tears. He cuddled her close and stroked her hair.
"Shhh, let it out, it's normal and natural. There, there." He held her close and whispered nonsensical words until she quieted.
Ailsa sniffed and looked around. "Can I have a tissue please?"
Connie handed her one and she whispered her thanks. Her voice didn't seem to belong to her. None of her did. It was strange and disquieting.
She wondered what happened next. After all she was still coated in wax, half naked, and in a room with virtual strangers. For the first time she saw the sense in having more than one person around. As long as they weren't all axe murderers.
I hope that got you a wee bit hot and bothered…
(I'm now off for grandson cuddles)

Happy reading,

Love R x

Oops forgot the buy link…

and you can stalk me here

Friday, 21 November 2014

Flash Fiction Friday - Surprise #FFF

Happy Friday, folks. Here's today's flash.

Feet pounding the sand in tune to the music in her ears, head down, Diana almost collided with the statue that seemed to have appeared from nowhere. She managed to side step it at the last minute, and she shrieked when the statue moved.
The man raised his head and smiled at her, and Diana’s world shifted on its axis. It couldn’t be. He was dead and buried, wasn’t he… and were those wings?  Gabe spread his feathers, and held out his hand.
“What the fu—“

She swallowed her curse. One simply didn’t swear in front of an angel.


Friday Flashers have 100 words to tell a story from the provided picture prompt. Do check out the other flashers. You won't be disappointed. :-)

Till next week, folks.
D x

Thursday, 20 November 2014

#ReleaseBlitz Hardened Desire @LaynaPimentel #pnr @cw1985

Hmm, Gargoyles and humans, now doesn't that sound intriguing? Check out Layna Pimentel's new release, as she stops by on her Release Blitz.

What could Luc Mercier, a gargoyle who's more than a century old, possibly have in common with modern introvert, Gillian Harris? Loneliness and isolation.
When meddlesome friends bring the two together, neither is prepared for the flurry of emotions nor revelations that overwhelm them. That is, until Gillian stumbles across the truth and struggles with how she let her guard down.
Learning to love again has never been harder.


Luc picked up a newspaper from the stand and tossed a two-dollar coin to the elderly man working the counter. He ascended the cavernous stairs of Bloor and Dufferin subway station, irritated by the lights flickering intensely. I should have just taken my car.

But if he did, Luc would have missed an opportunity to observe society other than from the café he frequented lately. A society he didn’t belong in, technically speaking, and had no business being a part of. Long gone were the muddy, off-beaten roads of provincial France. Long gone was the time when an over-flowing bodice was considered scandalous.

Now people thrived on exposing as much skin as possible. The modern day sentiment of what was attractive and acceptable embarrassed him to the core, from the mode of dress to the inappropriate use of language. Didn’t anyone know how to speak without using an expletive every other word? Where had humanity gone wrong? It was ghastly enough that children didn’t respect their elders, much less their parents.

Nevertheless, as much as this modern world perplexed him, nothing could deter him from at least enjoying his freedom, regardless of the limitations restricting his activities to the darkness of the night.

He did, however, miss the ambiance of candle light and the soft cries while seducing a woman, tormenting her with his wicked tongue. Exploring deviant, but heavenly, practices of binding and mixing pleasure with pain. Sweet promises falling from his lips while exploring every inch of her delicate and exquisite flesh.

These days, the few women he was able to enjoy weren’t interested in highly sensual liaisons. No. Today’s women thrived on being in control of seduction, whether they were proficient or not. There certainly wasn’t anything wrong with the scenario, but it wasn’t his taste. He preferred his women soft, like Genevieve…his sweet, sweet Genevieve.

No matter how many decades passed, the only woman he’d ever confided in, and planned to wed, crept into his mind many a time. Genevieve was an old soul, who found him and fell in love. Then, much like a Greek tragedy, their story ended woefully. The trust and courage it had taken to confess to Genevieve of the monstrosity he had become left him restless and, for once in his miserable existence, vulnerable. If not for her kindness, encouragement, and love, who knew what he would be doing and where.

This last week, though, he thought to explore the possibility of trying again. A particular woman, who frequented the café where he spent his early evenings drinking a brandy and reading The Daily Sun, had caught his particular interest. Her laughter aroused his curiosity in the few and far between moments when he contemplated actually living life. Her voice, whether chuckling or whispering to her friend, always made his body react in an animalistic way.

While they had never met, she seemed like someone he’d be interested in getting to know, at the very least, for a little while. Luc doubted very much he’d find another woman like the love of his life and often thought it would be better that way. How could he even begin to explain why he only ever spent time with her at night, and why he’d always be gone before the first sign of daybreak?


Born and raised in Toronto, Ontario, Layna discovered her love of reading at an early age. When she isn’t devouring salacious romance novels or writing, she enjoys losing herself in researching ancient history and mythology, weaponry, and hiking. She lives in Northern Ontario, with her husband and two daughters.
Layna is a member of the Romance Writers of America, and is a monthly contributor at 69 Shades of Smut. For updates on her upcoming releases, or to leave her a comment, you can find at:

Wednesday, 19 November 2014

#MWTease from Let's Get it On "Tell your Sirs how you feel..." #mfm #bdsm #comingsoon @sirenbookstrand

Happy Middle of the week to you all. I think I have just about stopped bouncing in excitement now... maybe. Yesterday saw the release of Auctioned to the Spanish Dom, and the lovely Raven McAllan has Master Pedro on her blog as the mid week tease. He's showing that he's just as as good as giving after care as he is at delivering pain.

So, rather than bore you to tears, and tease here from his story too, I've picked a hot little tease from Let's Get it On. Last time I shared from this, it was still a WIP.

Well, I'm delighted to say that Siren have accepted my brothers and Let's Get it On will release January 12th.

*happy dance*

To set the scene, it's the middle of the night and Lily couldn't sleep. She's come downstairs and has interrupted a Skype conversation between the brothers. Cyrus is currently in New York away on business, but this does not stop him from directing proceedings...

(Please bear in mind this is unedited as yet, so subject to change, and please excuse any errors)

Usual warning applies. This is HAWT!

 “Spread your legs wider, so I can see how wet you are for me, little subbie. That’s a good girl.” His grin deepened when she complied and grasped the edge of the settee to steady herself.
“Hands on your ankles, girl, and stay like that. Hmm, very nice, but I want you so wet that your juices run down your legs, and your ass is far too white. Wouldn’t you agree, bro?”
A just returned Sloan put his toy bag down and grinned. Another shudder went through her when he ran his hands all over her ass, and delved into her slit. Cyrus grunted his approval, when Sloan brought his slick fingers up for Cy to see, and then licked them clean.
“I quite agree bro. She’s nice and wet, but I know she can do much better than this, and I think we want her immobile and our mercy for this, don’t we, Cy?”
“Absofuckinglutely,” Cyrus said, and he leant in closer to the screen to not miss any of the action. Damn, he so wanted to be there. The air would be thick with their combined sexual musk, and his fingers itched to touch their girl. He flicked the speakers up to full, so as not to miss any of the little sounds Lily was making, and he laughed when Sloan slapped her ass hard. Her pale skin reddened beautifully and she toppled forward until she was half supported by the settee. Pride filled him at the white knuckled grip she still had on her ankles. He wouldn’t have blamed her had she put her hands out to support herself.
He exchanged a glance with Sloan, and he read the same concern for her in his brother’s gaze. They could easily push her too far, and allow her to get lost in her submissive headspace. That motherfucking asshole had taken advantage of her, and they’d be fucked if they would allow that to happen again.
Fortunately they had each other to make sure they wouldn’t. It made the whole process of helping Lily find out what she truly wanted and needed in their dynamics much easier.
Sloan delivered several more open handed swats to their girl’s ass, until she whimpered in need and her pussy hole clenched visibly. The fine sheen of arousal coated her skin, and she hissed in a breath through her teeth when Sloan ran his hands over the abused flesh. Nice and pink it glowed in the shadowy light, and a whimper of pure need escaped Lily when Sloan dropped down to his knees and licked her slit to clit and back again, while digging his fingernails into her ass cheeks.
Cyrus cursed the angle of the camera, which meant he couldn’t see properly, until Sloan moved sideways, while running his hands down their girl’s legs, until he gently pried her fingers away from her ankles.
“Get on your knees, Lily and drape yourself over the settee. Let Cyrus see how wet you are for us, and how much you want me to fuck you.”
“God, yes… please.”
Lily’s voice, muffled as it was by the sofa cushions she had buried her face in nonetheless shook with need and Sloan laughed.
“Yes, I thought you might like that, but not yet, what do you think, Cy? Does our girl deserve to come yet?”
He winked at Cyrus and Cy shook his head, not trusting his voice to work at that moment in time. Instead he watched Sloan attach the spreader bar between Lily’s ankles, once she was kneeling on the floor, and then bind her wrists with rope and secure it to the feet of the settee. With her arms held bound above her head, her torso was half suspended over the settee, and with her legs spread wide, and held in place by the bar, Lily had nowhere to go.
Her breaths came in short erratic gasps, and when Sloan lifted her hair off her face, Cyrus could see her flushed expression. She licked her lips, and moaned out loud, when Sloan ran his hands slowly down her arms and then underneath her shoulders, until he could knead her heavy breasts. Judging by the way she jumped, his brother had reached her nipples and pinched them. Whatever he was doing, her breaths grew choppier, and more of her feminine arousal coated the tops her thighs. Her clit stood huge and proud out of its little hiding place and her inner lips turned much redder as the blood rushed to the sensitive area.
“Keep doing that, bro. I reckon she could come just by you playing with her tits. Tell me what it feels like. Are her buds hard as nails?”
 Sloan groaned and flung him an almost comical look. Judging by the huge erection that tented Sloan’s joggers he had as hard a time as Cyrus, and was no doubt ready to explode. At least the lucky bastard would get to bury himself balls deep inside their girl, while Cy would have to make do with his hand.
Still watching them fuck would have to do for now. It certainly beat jacking off to mental images alone.
“You have no idea, bro. She’s so damn fucking responsive. If I do this…” Lily tensed and groaned. It was such a deep throated, sexual sound that Cyrus’s dick jumped and his balls drew tight to his body. He had to take himself in hand and stroke along his engorged length. Shit, that felt way too good. Cyrus didn’t want to come yet. He wanted to come apart with them, so they would have to hurry this along a bit.
“Yes, when I twist and pull, I imagine she feels those darts of pain right in her clit, don’t you sweet pet?” Sloan’s voice shook with hoarse need, and Cyrus pumped his dick faster. Fuck this, he was so fucking turned on, he had to come. No doubt he would be ready for round two in record time. “Answer me. Tell your Sirs, how you feel when I do this.” Sloan moved his arms sharply and Lily cried out in pain filled arousal that made Cyrus clench his jaw in an effort not to shout out himself.
“Tell us, girl.” Sloan’s voice took on that extra edge guaranteed to make any subbie squirm, and he glanced at the screen. Seeing what Cyrus was doing made him smirk and he moved one of his hands from under her, and wrapped it in her hair. A sharp yank made Lily cry out again and Sloan guided her head until she could see the screen. Her eyes widened and her blush deepened when her gaze zoomed in on the fevered movements of Cyrus’s hand on his dick. Lily groaned and licked her lips, and Sloan laughed.
“Such a naughty girl. See what you’re doing to Cyrus.” Slade’s arm jerked again and again and each time Lily’s color heightened further. Her breath sped up and her eyes took on that unfocused look. Cyrus was pretty damn sure he looked just the same, his own gaze riveted on their girl’s reaction to seeing him fist his cock, and Sloan’s manipulation of her awesome tits.
“Fuck, I’m gonna come. Make her fly with… fuuuuck.”
Lily’s scream echoed in his ears as his orgasm burst from him, and he shot thick arching jets of his cum all over his hands and belly. A milky white stream hit the screen and ran over Lily’s flushed face as she too hit her peak, and they came together, or as together as they could be.


Here's the blurb:

When Lily Jepson falls asleep at work, her erotic dream is witnessed by none other than her boss’s brother. Awkward doesn’t begin to describe it, especially when she can’t help but respond to the enigmatic Dom. She wants his brother…doesn’t she?
Cyrus Cooper loves to play games, and he can’t resist the opportunity to yank his brother’s chain a bit. Nothing will convince the stubborn Sloan more to finally make a move on Lily, than thinking this delightful subbie is involved with Cyrus.
However, when it becomes apparent that Lily needs help to work through the emotional scars left behind by her early introduction into the lifestyle, Cyrus knows this is far more than a game.  The brothers are just the Doms to show her what a true D/s relationship should be like.
Lily thrives under their combined Dominance, but when her old Master re-appears her life is put in danger.
She has never needed her Sirs more.

Releases January 12th


Stay naughty, folks, and don't forget to check out the other teasers. As ever thanks to the awesome Sandra Bunino for putting us all together every week.

Why not join us next week? You can sign up on Sandra's blog HERE.

D xx

Tuesday, 18 November 2014

#ReleaseDay squeal - Master Pedro is here -Auctioned to the Spanish Dom (The Spectrum Auctions, 3) @sirenbookstrand #mfm #bdsm

*woops and jumps up and down like a loon*

Master Pedro is finally here! I've had such fun writing his story, and I fell hopelessly in love with him, so I do hope you readers will too. In honour of Release Day, I'm going to share the entire first chapter on my blog right here, cause I'm nice like that :-)

Peyton King had a simple plan. Sign up for the Spectrum Auctions and finally get the story that will get her the promotion she craves.

It’s just her luck that the person who wins her is Pedro Hernandez. The Spanish Dom has been starring in her erotic dreams ever since they first butted heads in her professional life, and he proves impossible to resist, if downright scary.

The sadist in Pedro is looking forward to teaching the prickly reporter a lesson or two. However, when Peyton turns out to be a masochist her instinctive responses floor the experienced Dom. Maybe it’s just his age catching up with him, but this young reporter gets under his skin like no other sub ever has, and their play smashes through both of their emotional defences in record time.

When their relationship is put to the test, Pedro has to decide if he can trust his pequeñita.

She is a reporter after all…

Available now at a 10%  discount still from Bookstrand


The Spectrum Auctions 3

Copyright © 2014

Chapter One

Arms held in tight chains in front of her, and in full glare of the stage lights, Peyton’s stomach rolled in nervous anticipation. Maybe this hadn’t been one of her best ideas. Sure she’d get her story, but at what price? It had seemed so simple on paper.
What better way to get behind the scenes of Club Spectrum, than to sign up for the Auctions? Mistress Scarlett’s narrow-eyed assessment and the endless forms and tests she had to pass had been nothing in comparison to this. The reality of the situation hit her square in the gut and she found it hard to breathe.
The disembodied voice of the announcer projected her attributes to all and sundry and despite her instructions to the contrary, she lifted her chin and stared into the crowd. Not that she could see much, past the first few tables, and the recent bane of her life had to be sitting right in her line of vision.
Pedro Hernandez lounged back in his chair, one denim-clad leg lifted over the other. Dressed entirely in black, he made a forbidding figure, even sat down. He smiled at something that Mistress Scarlett said to him, his even, white teeth a startling contrast in his olive complexion, and he raised his hand to enter a bid for her.
Heat rolled over her skin and the world tilted a little more every time he raised that hand again. His other hand tapped the riding crop he held onto his knee-high leather boots, and Peyton could have sworn those taps echoed across her skin.
Why had it not occurred to her that he might make a bid for her? Why had she been so stupid? And why could she not tear her gaze away from this man?
It was bad enough having to deal with him in everyday life, but here in the club? The hammer fell and Peyton stopped breathing.
“Sold to Master Pedro. Come and claim your new slave, Master Pedro.”

* * * *

Blood fizzed in his veins and there was a definite spring in his step, as he approached the stage. His fingers itched to get a hold of Ms. King’s ample curves, and he hid his smile at the anxiety pouring off her in waves. This was almost too easy.
Out of her sensible office attire, Peyton King had lost all of her starchiness and some of that air of superiority, even if she positively glared at him from under the silky curtain of her hair.
“I changed my mind. I don’t want to do this anymore.” Her breathy objection shot straight to his groin, and this time he did smile. She flinched when he used the tip of the riding crop to push her hair out of the way, but she stood her ground and pushed her shoulders back in an act of defiance.
The action only served to push her impressive tits out further and Pedro’s cock hardened in his pants.
“Really now. I didn’t take you for a coward, pequeña.” Her eyes flashed fire at him, and he slowly ran the tip of his crop down over her cleavage. Her nipples hardened at the light touch he used, and she gasped.
“I’m not a fucking coward. I’m here, aren’t I?”
Pedro shook his head and ran that crop lower, until he reached the hem of her short dress. She shivered when he inched it higher and she bit her lip in a seeming effort to not let her reaction show. He stopped just before he reached her pussy, and she squirmed under his slow perusal. By the time his gaze connected with hers, goose bumps had broken out on her skin, and she had trouble keeping his gaze.
“So you are, and as such I expect you to show the appropriate respect. I will not tolerate foul language like that. If I hear you use it again, I will gag this pretty mouth of yours, and put you over my knee to spank that ass.”
Her eyes lost their focus for a minute and he bet his best riding crop that she would be wet for him.
“You wouldn’t dare.” She mumbled the words and some of her bravado left her when he stepped so close to her, that she would be able to feel his raging hard-on against her belly.
“Wouldn’t I?” he asked and fisted his hand in her hair with enough force to make her yelp. “I’m a sadist, pequeña, and as such, it would give me great pleasure to see you writhe on my lap. What’s more I think you’d rather enjoy it.”
She tried to shake her head, but his tight hold on her didn’t allow for any movement and she went limp against him, when he licked the rapidly beating pulse point in her neck and then bit down slightly on her earlobe.
“I wouldn’t,” she whispered, her voice so breathy it shot straight to his cock. A man could lose his shit listening to that voice alone. It belonged to a woman ready for fucking, and gave away her current state of arousal like a lighthouse beacon. She might protest, but she was here because she wanted this, craved it even, deep down in her psyche, and he was just the man to show her how good this could be.
To prove his point, he stepped away and released his hold on her.
“Then say your safeword and you’re free to go.”
She blinked and frowned.
“Wh–What? You’re just gonna let me go?”
Pedro hid his smile of triumph, took another step away, and crossed his arms over his chest.
“That’s the way this works, Peyton.” She blinked again at the use of her actual name. “I have no wish to force my attentions where they are not wanted. There are plenty of willing subs I could have chosen instead. I happen to think, that you and I could be great together in a Dom/sub relationship. Nothing more, nothing less, but this is always your choice. So, if you want this to continue, then lose the attitude. As much as I like bratty submissives, the attitude gets tiresome after a while.”
He stopped talking and waited. Seconds turned into minutes and he was all too aware of the curious glances thrown their way. He had already shown Ms. King far more leeway than he was known for, but, dammit, he wanted her. If the stubborn woman only gave in. His inner caveman just wanted to fling her over his shoulder, drag her to his personal dungeon here at the club, lock the door, and show her what had been missing in her life up till now. They had locked horns so many times in the past over her job that he knew how passionate she was. However, that was not the way this worked. He needed, wanted her consent.
She frowned, bit her lip, and shifted from foot to foot. It drew his attention to her fuck-me heels. A nice, if unusual addition. The slaves up for auction were usually barefoot, but then Scarlett knew how much he appreciated high heels on his women. He would have to thank her later for this rather delicious setup.
“Safeword?” The whispered question pulled his attention back up her body until he snared her crystal gaze with his.
“I know you’ll have been given the club safewords. Mistress Scarlett is most thorough. Or are you telling me your heels are not the only thing she let slip by?” He dropped his voice on purpose, giving it that edge that always got the little subbies worried, and like a frightened rabbit, Peyton startled and shook her head.
“No…I mean, yes I know them. She made me jump through all the required hoops like some trained dog. I just…”
Her voice faded away and her eyes widened when he placed his hand on her throat and gave it a light squeeze.
“Hoops, you say. If that’s what turns you on, we can certainly add pet play to your list of requirements.” He rather enjoyed the way her mouth dropped open and she stared at him as though he’d grown six heads. “Though from your list, you seem to not want to do much at all.”
Heat rose in her cheeks when he pulled her list of soft and hard limits out of his back pocket, where he’d stuffed it on his approach to claim her.
“I…er…well.” He turned his hold on her throat into a gentle caress, and she leant into his touch when he cupped her chin and ran his thumb over her bottom lip.
“I’m waiting, pequeña.”
He pulled her closer still until their breaths mingled and his lips hovered over hers. The urge to claim those full lips, to suckle them into submission until she sagged against him, was strong indeed, but he resisted the impulse. Far better to keep her on edge. Her eyes fluttered shut and a needy little moan escaped as she appeared to wait for him to kiss her. This close, he could appreciate the delicate paleness of her skin. She would mark so beautifully under his hands.
When he didn’t close the distance, she opened her eyes, and her momentary confusion was quickly replaced by a flash of anger. There it was the spirit he’d admired for the last few months.
“Fine, have it your way. I’m not going to say my safeword, because…yikes, put me down.”
Pedro followed his original intentions, and picking her up, dumped her over his shoulder, and started walking.
As he expected her to, she squealed and squirmed and tried to push herself off his shoulder. With her wrists still tied with the chain, the end of which he held in his hand to restrict her movements, and his arm firmly clamped just below her ripe ass, she had nowhere to go, however.
The woman had curves to die for, with just enough flesh for his liking. Pedro grinned when she gave up struggling and a string of profanities came out of her mouth instead.
“Have you already forgotten what I said about using foul language, pequeña?” He adjusted the long chain wrapped around his hand to enable him to transfer it to his other one, and slapped her ass twice, hard enough to leave a mark. “For someone who professes not to like pain, you’re certainly going the right way about making sure I’ll give you some.” Her outburst stopped at his growled words and he indulged himself by swatting her ass twice more. Peyton gasped and went limp over his shoulder when he massaged the sting away and slid his hand under the skirt barely covering her modesty.
Wetness greeted him, and he knew he was grinning like a fool as he left the main play area and entered the corridors that led to the dungeons. His birthday was definitely looking up.

* * * *

Her ass stung like crazy, and the floor slid by at dizzying speed. Peyton knew she should be outraged at the way this Spaniard was manhandling her. She was a grown woman, for fuck’s sake, not a bag of potatoes, but she couldn’t deny how much of a turn-on this was either. The absolute dominance that seemed to pour out of his very pores made her feel small and fragile. A definite novelty for Peyton. With her killer heels on she stood at just under six feet. Yet, he was still half a head taller than her. Despite having the lean physique of a swimmer rather than the overbearing muscle mass of, say, Mistress Scarlett’s sub, Mike, he still carried her as though she weighed no more than a feather.
When she had run into him in her job as a reporter, she had been struck by his steely determination, but, here at the club, his presence was overwhelming. The way the crowd parted for him did little to soothe the army of slithering insects that seemed to have taken up residence in her tummy, and by the time they entered the corridors she could barely breathe for her nerves.
Damn her boss’s insistence that she get the inside scoop on Club Spectrum, but her natural curiosity and the big, fat carrot of a pay rise and promotion had been too hard to resist. She had signed a non-disclosure contract as part of being put up for auction, which meant she would not be able to name names, but there were always ways around that—if she survived this encounter, that was.
High-heeled stiletto boots appeared in her vision, followed by bare, very masculine feet, and Pedro stopped his rapid walk.
“I see you two seem to have sorted out your differences. For a while there I thought we would have to reimburse you, Pedro. Your slave looked ready to bolt.” Mistress Scarlett’s amused tones were joined by Pedro’s short laugh, and she struggled into a more upright position over his shoulder. He must have loosened his hold on her chains, because she managed to push against his muscular back and lift slightly. With her hair covering her face like a black curtain, she still couldn’t see much, but a least it stopped the blood rushing to her head and the world stopped spinning. Last thing she wanted to do was embarrass herself completely by throwing up all over Mistress Scarlett’s polished boots.
She huffed in a futile effort to clear her vision from all that hair, and masculine hands lifted it out of the way. To her surprise they belonged to Mistress Scarlett’s Mike. Dressed in nothing but a thong, the sight of which made her cheeks heat—boy, was that man well blessed in the cock department—the silver cuffs and the heavy play collar around his neck confirmed his submissive status. He didn’t look very submissive to her at the minute, though.
His callused hands framed her face and his crystal blue gaze searched her face as though she was one of his suspects under interrogation at the police station, and not another sub, flung over the shoulder of her Dom.
Her Dom. Now there was a thought. As much as Peyton enjoyed her smutty stories, the kinkier the better, she’d never have thought that statement would ever apply to her.
“How are you holding up there, Peyton?” he asked. “You looked pretty overwhelmed on that stage.”
Seemingly not satisfied with whatever he saw in her expression, the steely command behind that tone of voice would have done any Dom proud. It seemed you could take the cop out of the police station, but not out of the man.
She offered him a weak smile.
“She’s fine, boy, and none of your concern.”
Pedro’s clipped tones should have been the end of that conservation, but Mike ignored him, and leant in closer, so that only she could hear his next words.
“Don’t let him bully you into anything you’re not sure about, and use your safewords if you have to.”
Scarlett’s red-tipped fingernails appeared in view and Peyton barely suppressed a wince when she dug those nails into Mike’s forearm. Spots of blood appeared under the crescent indents Scarlett left behind on her sub’s skin, and bile rose in Peyton’s throat. That was definitely one of her hard limits, she decided. Had she put that on her form? She must have done. There was very little she had said yes to, so why then had Pedro bid for her? It just made no sense.
Mike didn’t seem to care about the fact that his Mistress was literally drawing blood, because he winked at Peyton and let her go. The chain round her wrists tightened anew and she slumped back over Pedro’s back. The new me, a sack of spuds.
Peyton sought refuge in humor. Anything to keep her sanity, because that damn man was now patting her ass. Light taps only, but they still sent heated arousal through her veins. She would disgrace herself if he kept that up, and she froze when he grazed his fingers along the seam of her slit underneath her sodden underwear. Shit, now he’d know exactly how wet she was.
To make her humiliation complete, he seemed to be showing his fingers to Scarlett, if his next words were anything to go by.
“Does this look as though she’s not enjoying herself?” Scarlett laughed and Mike grunted as though in pain. Heaven only knew what the woman had just done to him.
“So tell your bloodhound to lay off. I do know what I’m doing,” Pedro said and resumed the slow, far too arousing taps on her butt.
“Of course you do, Pedro. You will keep out of Master Pedro’s business, brass, is that clear?”
Peyton swallowed hard at the sharp tone of voice she used.
“Yes, My Lady. I was only concerned, because I remember how overwhelming this can be at first.” Mike’s reply sounded strained as though he was indeed in pain and then he expelled an audible sigh of relief.
“I know, Mike. It’s the only reason you’re not already in a cock harness.” Again Peyton had to clamp her mouth shut to stop herself from reacting, and Pedro’s shoulder’s shook as he laughed.
“I do like your style, Scarlett, but I think your toy still needs punishing. That glare on him is something else. If I wasn’t busy with my own one, I’d offer you a helping hand.”
Mike swore and coughed, but you could still hear a very distinct, Fuck off.
“Hmm, you might be right on the punishment bit, Pedro, but you’ve already had your birthday present, so go on and enjoy her. I shall do the same with Mike here. Up you come.”
It was his birthday? Had this all been a setup with her as the clueless present?
The click clack of Scarlett’s heels faded into the distance and Pedro turned to face the other wall. Rapid beeps of a keyboard entry pad being pressed later, and Peyton faced the pristine stone floor of what she assumed must be Pedro’s private dungeon.
He set her on her feet, tucked her hair behind her ears, and tipped her chin up, all the while keeping a firm grasp on her still bound wrists.
“Now, for that present,” he said. “Time to get started, pequeña.”


Let the fun begin as they say :-)

Before you leave do enter my giveaway.
a Rafflecopter giveaway

Now, excuse me while I go back to squeeing!

Stay naughty, folks.

D xxx