Cerise DeLand's Blog, page 46

Women's rights, the compelling reason for the Magna Carta? Yes, read WITH HER KISS

WITH HER KISS, A novel of love restored, revenge complete, a king laid low.Book 3 in medieval erotic romance, SWORDS OF PASSION series by Cerise DeLand.Copyright 2013, Cerise DeLand. Excerpt, All rights reserved.          Buy Link: TEB  http://totalebound.com Buy Link: Amazon  http://amzn.to/UxdKPk She screamed, the torment of being jostled gnawing at her bones and sending raw pain of a thousand needles through her flesh. What hell was this? She saw stars, a velvet sky. Moonlight seared her eyes and she clamped them shut. Too long in the dark. Too long without hope of light. What use to take her away if she could not see? Or could not talk? Or, worse, had lost her mind?Some strange ties bound her arms. She struggled and stilled, knowing the fight useless. Dreaming. I fantasise. I wish for release and find it only in my mind!Did men whisper? Aye, she heard footsteps. Boots, men’s boots tromped across sodden grass, the sucking noises reminiscent of her watery cell. The clank of swords, the stomping of horses’ hooves in that same wet earth that met her ears. Someone manhandled her.Christ, let me go! She tried to beat upon the broad chest that bound her tightly to a wall of warm flesh. But she could not lift her hand and her head lolled back.“She’s fainted,” a man murmured.No, no! She worked at words and found no sound possible.“She drifts in and out of her mind,” said another.Was that the same man who had spoken Latin? The same one who had urged her to speak?“Here, hold her while I mount.”No. That is another man, his voice so familiar and so dear. So hated. Geoffrey?Bounced from one tight embrace to another, she gritted her teeth to quell the pain. Let me die, she urged whoever was her newest captor. Her limbs afire, her heart racing, she panted for breath. No more, she begged. But whoever he was, he did not listen. Instead, she felt herself passed from one set of bonds up into the grasping arms of another. The first man who had held her, found her and spoken to her in the dungeon held her again. Geoffrey? No. This cannot be he.She dared to lift her eyelids a fraction. Dark hair, shining oddly auburn in the moonlight. Hair, curling at his ears. The eyes, the same soft solace as Geoffrey’s. His face, lined with years and worries.Her heart pounded with the similarities. Hope, so brittle, broke inside her, a hundred fragments, sharp and small.No, this is not he. Impossible for this man to be Geoffrey. He is an angel of death, please be to God, come to claim me.“To ride will hurt like the hounds of hell, ma cherie,” he told her, his lips to her ear, his arms like iron straps around her shoulders and her knees. “A litter would slow us. We have no alternative.”She felt a jolt of his massive body. Envisioning a man who rode his horse like wind upon water, she gazed at a man with tousled hair and a strong jaw. She felt the jolt as he dug his spurs into the flanks of his stallion. And off she rode with him, clasped to him as if forged. A thrust, a bolt, a gallop tore at her insides, yet she was clutched to him by his rope-like arms while the ground thundered beneath his animal’s hooves. The breeze was raw, crisp in her hair and against her skin. She shivered, yet inhaled the fresh air of night. The stars danced above her. The moon darted between menacing clouds. The night stretched out around them, for indeed there were more to this party than simply she and her abductor. The others were no fantasy. She heard their mounts. The hooves as they struck the ground, churning, clinking on stones. She heard the men. Their grunts as they dodged tree limbs and shouted to their companions of dangers ahead. She felt the care of the man who held her and above that pain that seared her mind, she remembered one man who had held her so tightly, so dearly, so briefly. Strange. He had felt the same as this man. And smelled the same as this man.But he had not cared for her as well as this man.BUY all 3 in the SWORDS OF PASSION series!!Buy Link: TEB  http://totalebound.com Buy Link: Amazon  http://amzn.to/UxdKPk

Escorting a countess to her wedding, this knight has one problem: He adores her! FOR HER HONOUR, Book #2 in SWORDS OF PASSION medieval series

     T'was the custom in medieval England and France for an heiress to be escorted to her betrothed by a knight. But when the woman is old enough and wise enough (and widow enough) to know that her much younger bridegroom-to-be will become more of an irritant than a true and worthwhile husband, she is inclined to refuse the journey.
 
Will Dunwick, Earl of Greystone, knows this full well but he is bound by duty to his liege lord, King John to perform the horrid task...until he falls in love with the beautiful, fiesty Blanche Bergeron.

BTW: Yummy cover, oui?

Need a nibble? Of course you do!
(Copyright, Cerise DeLand. All rights reserved.)


1210, The Western Marches, England
 Men did not mesmerise her. Ever. Yet, William Dunwick, the Earl of Greystone, was so much more man than Blanche Bergeron had been told to expect that she had to snap her mouth shut at his appearance. Indeed, he was so huge, so much more handsome than the rumours of his glory that she found herself agog at his appearance here in her great hall.   To collect her dignity, she had to sit taller, smile like a gracious hostess and bid him approach her. Amazement—she scolded herself as she settled back into in her dais chair—was not the emotion she wished to convey to this emissary from their ruthless King John. True, she’d heard it said that their regent’s loyal adviser was tall and broad. Blond and ruddy. Impaired by the loss of his left eye. Yet suave as a troubadour with men, and seductive as an oriental sultan with women. Blanche had steeled her mind against him. After all, he was sent by that tyrant John to carry her off to marry a man she was too wise to want and too old to need. But to gaze upon John’s emissary—this legendary Crusader and adviser—was to admit to herself that, in some things, her assumptions could be wrong. And her tactics to save herself from Greystone’s charms, she knew now, must change from obstruction to some other course that might escape this wise man’s piercing sight and perception. “Good day, my lady.” Greystone walked forward with the magnetic self-possession that truly powerful men exuded. Clad in his black tabard emblazoned with his own stag crest and Crusader cross on one shoulder, he wore on his chest the Anjevin leopards rampant to denote the sovereign he served.  He filled her vision with the breadth of his shoulders, the symmetry of his jaw, the black leather patch over his left eye and a dancing light in his remaining sea blue one. “You do us honour.” He bent a knee to her. “My lord, you are welcome,” she lied as she extended her hand. He took her fingertips with his warm ones and led them to his mouth.  Debonair bastard. At his familiarity, she held her breath as he reverently brushed his soft lips upon her nails. She shivered in the warmth of September. Such frivolities are for younger women, Blanche. Women who sigh at a comely man’s regard and know not how boring they will be in bed. He smiled up at her, his one blue eye assessing her as if she were a sweetmeat. “I am most grateful for your kind reception of me and my men,” he told her in a voice so low she felt her breasts bead in silly long–dead desires. She tore her gaze from him towards the four men arrayed behind him. Like their lord, they were of enormous size. Meaty hands and arms, they had impossibly huge chests in black tabards bearing only Greystone’s chest and, underneath, chain mail. With tree trunks for thighs, they flanked their master, standing astride like giant Norsemen. Surely, she could not allow the five of them to carry her off to London for she would never escape their strength. Or their determination. “I am happy to welcome you, Lord Greystone. We are simple people here in the marches but we do try to match the etiquette of London.” “I have been told of your hospitality, my lady Bergeron.” He rose to his full height. Even now, one step below her, he was taller. Such presence she had never seen in a man. Her dead husband had been a head shorter than she. Shorter still in other myriad ways. An unsatisfying collection of skinny bones, thin intellect and tiny wit, Mortimer Bergeron had also possessed a penis of such insignificant size that she marvelled she had conceived two children. What does your cock measure, William of Greystone? His mouth curved into a knowing smile. “May my men be shown to their accommodations?” he prodded her from her reverie in a hushed voice. “Aye!” She raised her right hand to summon her steward form the back of the hall. “Alfred, take Lord Greystone’s retainers to the knights’ quarters. Forgive us, we are not quite ready for you. We expected you to arrive in a fortnight or more.” Her serf hastened forward and beckoned to the four men. Only when Greystone nodded his consent at their leaving, did they turn, prepared to go. Blanche stopped them by calling to her steward. “You may also show Lord Greystone to his room.” “Nay, my lady,” Greystone pivoted to fix her with his one good eye. “I wish an audience with you.” The breach of protocol was novel, too. To kiss her hand was one pretty thing, but to counter her in her own home was a bold opposite.  She brought herself up into her full imposing stature. “You should rest, my lord.” Her gaze descended over his splendidly fit body. His pale gold curls dipped over his brow, framing his face and scraping his collar. His chain mail and short breeches bore the dust of the roads he had travelled. His boots were worn and caked with mud. “And you must wish a bath and a bed.” “I do, Madame.” He leant towards her and she caught a scent of manly sweat that made her nostrils flare in rare appreciation for male musk. “But nothing is more important than that we talk.”  “We shall this evening over supper.”  “Nay.” He took a step towards her. Again, his personal odour swept over her and added to the imperious effect of his demand. “Now.” Her serf watched. So did his men. She had never been so countered in her own home. Not since her husband died eleven years ago and she became the lady who controlled the largest fief on the western marches of John’s kingdom. Power had its privileges. It also had its responsibilities. And proprieties. “We shall talk then. Briefly.” She waved her man Alfred away with Greystone’s four and rearranged the fine azure linen she had donned when she’d been told the Earl of Greystone stood at her gates.  “What will you, my lord?” she asked him when the thick wooden doors to her hall finally thudded closed. “May I sit, my lady?” he asked, tipping his head towards a chair at her left hand. She inhaled. “Nay.  This interview will not be long, my lord. I have a harvest to direct. I pray you, say quickly what you wish to me. We know what it is you want, without the conversation, don’t we?” “There is no need, my lady, for rancour between us,” he offered in a voice that flowed over her like warm honey. Her nipples chafed against her gown. Then rose to reach out to him. Her mind rebelled at the attraction. “You think not?” She flung out a hand. Licked her lips. She was letting her temper rule her—and she despaired her loss of control. What was wrong with her? “I apologise, my lord. It is my nature to command here. I find it rare that I am contradicted.” “So, I see,” he said with earnest commiseration in his tone. “I wish not to make your life more difficult.” “By your very nature, you turn my life to rubble!” She rose from her chair, her long red hair escaping her netting and spilling over her shoulders. “You come to me early. You come with four giants as your guard. And you come demanding an audience in my own home in front of my own servants.” She bent over, her face so much closer to his damn handsome one, that she sensed his minted breath and even white teeth. She pulled away, astonished at her attraction to him even amid her outrage. “I will not brook your impertinence again like that, my lord. Tonight, you will become a grateful guest. Compliment our food and our fine beer. Talk gaily with me of nothing consequential. And as days go on, we will speak of substance.” He nodded, flowed closer and fixed her with his eye. “Forgive me, Madame, if I seem an ungrateful guest in your domain. I will repair what I can in that regard. I do not wish to tarnish our relationship with any such behaviour. Nor do I wish to damage your reputation with your minions. My goal here is to accomplish my king’s intent and to do so quickly.” Her natural fire consumed her. She was mistress here! “Without regard to me and what I want!” He frowned. “Not entirely true.” Fists on her hips, she leaned over him, closer still to the power that attracted her and frightened her with its strength. “Tell me, please, what say I have in this plan of your lord and master, John Plantagenet? Bah! He’d do me the dishonour to wed me to a man twelve years younger? A mere child with less land and weaker blood bonds to his majesty’s royal family than I own?” “I understand your anger, Madame,” this diplomat offered with equal parts compassion and finesse. “Do you?” she challenged him with rough despair. “Have you any idea what I have done here?” He tipped his head once. “I have heard the tales.” “Really? Of what? A red–haired harpy who flogs her serfs to plant and sow and reap with regularity?” “Nay. That is not you.” But she was in high dudgeon. “A witch who uses herbs and plants to tend her serfs, heal them of their boils and headaches, their childbirth and the frailties of their aging bones?” “No witch does that.” “Aye! I wager you have not heard of the fifteen–year–old who came here as a bride to lie down in a bed of filthy straw because her father and her king demanded it. Nor have you heard how I improved this aged keep with demands for cleanliness and warm fires. How I fought my husband’s slovenly neglect. How I developed the wheat and barley crops and made the best beer in the marches. How I bore with his whining and gambling.” Greystone stared into her eyes, his countenance serene. “Aye, my lady, I have heard all that of you and your husband.” “And still you think I will come willingly to marry a pimple–faced youth of eighteen?  A boy who is reputed to prefer wine to work and men to a woman?” “I am not here to ask what you prefer, Madame.” His composure had her seething. Not the way to dissuade him from his course, Blanche. She whirled away and ran her fingers through her hair. The netting came loose and in a fit, she tore it off and cast it to the rushes. She ticked off a minute’s time to chill her blood. She was getting nowhere with this man, so cool, so controlled in all his glorious containment. She squeezed her eyes shut to find some resolve and once more faced him. “Hear me, my lord. You and your retainers are welcome here to rest and repair. My serfs are at your convenience. My larder is open to your appetites. My stables, too, for your horses. But you will leave here as you came. In two days’ time. Without me.” Greystone got a hard gleam to his eye. “You think to thwart the will of his highness the king of England?” “I do.” “My lady Bergeron, ‘tis folly of the highest order.” “I will not let you take me from my own home. To marry me to another who will squander what I have built. To shame me with his decadence. For what? To please a man who dares to call himself king?” “John aligns you with a family who has been loyal to him.” “And I am repayment? Absurd! Let John pay his own debts.”  Greystone set his jaw. In the move, a cleft in his chin appeared and she stared at his face, overcome with a mad need to press her lips to his perfection there. Was she mad? She dared for fight here for her life and livelihood with a man whom she’d known for five minutes. A Norse god whom she coveted between her thighs. “My lady,” the man crooned to her, “you must know that John cannot pay his debts. He has fought too many wars.” “He has coveted too many women and plied them with jewels and silks.” Greystone pursed his lips. “My lord king is in constant need of money. He can only gratefully acknowledge service to himself by using what rights he does have as a sovereign.” “He is not sovereign here,” she pointed out. “But he is your sovereign, Madame. By right of inheritance from your husband, you are John’s liege. He will have you marry Hugh de Morency and do so in six weeks time. You are to come with me with whatever baggage and your household serfs you wish to bring.” “And did your noble lord also decree who will administer my estate while I make my way with you to London and wed this child?” “Nay, Madame. He said you would know best whom to place in charge.” She blew a gust of air out of her mouth. “The one true thing John can mutter.” But there was no one here who could replace her. No one with the knowledge. Or the dedication. Or the power. Everything she’d built here, every convenience, every prosperity, would wither with her departure. Her serfs were good folk, but lazy left alone. Without her prodding to tend the fields, without the profits from the sale of Bergeron’s good beer, they would soon die for lack of food and money with which to buy from others. She fisted her hands at her sides. She surveyed once more William of Greystone, diplomat, courtier, earl and wealthy landowner. Loyal to a king who had proven how disloyal, how ignoble he could be to his subjects. Including, and especially, women. “My lord,” she whispered in a beseeching tone, unnerved by Greystone’s implacability and her own attempt to bribe him, “what may I offer you to excuse me from this curse?”His features fell to a lax sorrow. “Nothing, Madame.”She expected that answer. Still, it riled her. “Noble lord Greystone, who has never been bought. Never been false to his king. Never been left idle from the performance of another and yet another errand of John’s perverse mind. Do you not find service to him beneath your vaulted honour?” He blinked, his lush mouth thinning at her persistence. “Madame, were I able to loose you from this marriage, I would. Trust me, I have tried. My liege is adamant. You shall wed de Morency. With haste, if not with grace.” “And if I don’t?” “I vow you will.” “I must find a way,” she murmured, caught like a mouse in a trap. “None exists, Madame,” he said with sorrow. “Have you heard the tale of what happened to his niece the heiress, Lady Esme Montague?” Blanche rubbed her upper arms. “Aye. She refused to marry John’s choice and ran off with her lover.” “John caught the man and had him castrated.” “Then John put Esme into a dungeon at Corfe, where she withered and, five years later, died.” “Blanche,” this man seemed to be pleading with her, “do not underestimate John’s resolve. Marry the boy. Return here with or without him. Resume your duties. Live your life.” “Or lose it.” “My lady, we are all creatures of our circumstances.” “Even you, my lord? The most honourable man to serve his king will do his will despite the dishonourable nature of it?” Greystone seemed unpricked by her barb. “Aye. My work for eleven years has been to bring my king to a just rule. I work where and when I can for justice for all. But in some instances, I am powerless to change his mind.” Her gaze locked on his and in that moment, she knew the truth of what he declared.  “I have argued for you, Madame. To no avail. I know when to concede. And when to press. In this matter, I have failed to change my liege’s thinking or his dictum. And you will become the Countess de Morency within six weeks. Prepare yourself. We leave in two days’ time.”
The sequel, WITH HER KISS, Book 3 in this Swords of Passion series, debuts Sept. 6 at http://totalebound.com. You can order it now at the lesser pre-order price!

In times of old when knights were bold and safes were not invented...a woman needed to produce an heir! AT HER SERVICE, SWORDS OF PASSION #1

   
AT HER SERVICE, #1 in my Swords of Passion medieval series from Totalebound.com, stars a knight you will not forget. Simon de la Poer once fell in love with a charming girl who was soon married off to another. That man was old and ruthless...and now years later, the poor fellow needs an heir. FAST.
     Who better to aid the man and supply his services than the man who once loved the lady beyond reason? 
This is the story of AT HER SERVICE, the first in my trilogy about three knights who served King Richard the Lionheart—and who find themselves at odds with his ignoble younger brother, King John.

Here, a lovely childless countess must bear an heir—or lose her lands, her honor—and her life. The man sent to sire a child with her is none other than the one who grew up fostered in her father’s castle as a boy—and the man Elise has yearned for lo, all the lonely years since he left.
A nibble of AT HER SERVICE! (Copyright, Cerise DeLand. All rights reserved.)
Circling up, up, up the winding tower that was the back entrance to their private rooms, she heard no one behind her. She breathed deeply in relief for that. Simon would not dare to come to them in full view of Alphonse’s retainers and servants. Simon might be under her husband’s thrall, but he would not leave the hall after her and, thus, make the servants aware of what his mission was.  She pushed open her husband’s bedroom door. It creaked, an eerie sound that sent shivers up her spine. But the warmth of the hearth fire, always blazing in the winter’s snow, rushed out to bathe her face and welcome her inside.  “Close the door, Elise.”  At the distinctive husky tone she could still identify after all these lonely years, she paused with one foot upon the threshold. She watched in amazement as Simon unfolded himself from the chair nearest the door and stood to his ungodly height. Anger flooded her at Simon’s impertinence of speaking to her before her husband bid her enter. Her gaze shot to Alphonse who lay beneath a pile of woollens and silks, snoring, his thin face grey, his mouth lax, his once manly frame reduced to a skinny child’s.  Simon took a step forward and extended his hand to the chair opposite his. “Come.” His rough bass voice flowed across the expanse of the chamber like thick molasses over her senses, her body warming to his sensuous tone. Simon’s merest words could entangle and enslave her.  Against his allure, she braced her spine. “How did you get in?”  Mere feet away, she noted how his silver eyes shown like the hard coin he would take for his service to her. “Your husband gave the order to his steward.”  “He should have told me, asked me,” she objected without regard to wake her husband, clenching her fists in fear at Cleve’s knowledge. Her voice bore her outrage that she could not countermand the great earl of Atherton, even as he lay dying in his bed.  Simon strolled forward, his head high, his expression earnest and pleading. Beneath his breath, he spoke to her alone. “The steward put me in the room below.” He nodded towards her alcove and the private winding stairs down to his tiny room. “We must talk.”  “No.” What good was talk? She was chained to Alphonse’s bargain and bound up in a torment wanting Simon de la Poer but knowing she should not have him. Yet she would take him to her to please Alphonse. Aye, and in the taking, she would also surely please herself. She snorted, stepped fully into the cosy apartment and shut the door to the world below.  “You need to know—”  “I want to know nothing.”  “That,” he whispered as he stepped close to her and threaded his long, supple fingers under her wimple up into the coil of her hair, “is a lie.”  She flinched backwards, wrenching to escape his reach. “You must do as I say. Agree or this will not happen at all.”
September 6 WITH HER KISS, the 3rd in my Swords of Passion series, debuts! You know you need it!
 Buy Link: TEB http://totalebound.com
Buy Link: Amazon http://amzn.to/UxdKPk

Would you put aside your feud for love? Sascha Illyvich tells us how!

Would you put aside your feud for love?  That's the question Kerian has to ask himself when he finds out his lover's other paramour is HIS ex-boyfriend and rat bastard! Both wolves love Iolite, and their combined intelligence plus wolf DNA and a dose of magic may help aid the wolf packs from the disease spreading throughout Albuquerque, NM. 
BUY LINK:


Buy Link:  http://www.amazon.com/Torn-To-Pieces-... We spend so much time in our lives over fighting and random BS that we often forget the true power of love, which is partially why romance is such a hot genre.  Authors provide an escape from the harshness of reality and even invite ourselves into your bedroom with the ability to grant illusions like the ménage a trois.
For Iolite, she gets the feel of two strong alpha males, both vying for her bed, and she wants them both to win, but if Kerian's not able to see past the mistakes Jackob made, the threesome and the fate of the wolves overall are doomed.
The fun of a ménage lies in the extra opportunities for experimentation and sexual gratification, feeling not one but two hearts beating against your body if you're the woman in the middle of a studly ménage, or just more fun if you're the guy. 
In another ménage story I wrote for Decadent Publishing, there wasn't really any fueding, but negotiations had to take place because the two men in question weren't lovers, though they loved the same things and shared the same women.  The D/s aspect threw things into a different light. 
Even though Jackob and Kerian are both alpha males there isn't a direct D/s aspect to alter the dynamic slightly, Kerian naturally acquiesces to Iolite's wants and needs. 
The excerpt I'm sharing from Torn to Pieces is the first time Kerian and Jackob meet at Iolite's loft in downtown Albuquerque, NM.  I think it captures the tone of the story perfectly, how about you? "Full of emotion and lust and hot sex." - that's how The Forbidden Bookshelf describes the romances of Sascha Illyvich.

Iolite is a witch in love with two wolves, wanting, needing both to fulfill her life. Both of them are two halves of the same being who she loves. Jackob and Kerian are former lovers turned enemies by pack law, but without the witch’s solution for the disease ravaging the wolves, both packs will certainly die. Both want Iolite, both want to love again but are uncertain of the consequences. Can Jackob and Kerian get past their emotional baggage to help heal Iolite’s broken heart as well as their own in order to save their packs?

Jackob would slaughter him.Rage consumed him.  Rage at Iolite's choice in wolves.  If she'd have brought in any other wolf, Kerian would be willing to be understanding.  "That fucking prick is your other lover?" Kerian stammered against the wall, setting a hand out for balance.  Iolite strode forward, ire in her eyes.  Kerian smelled the cayenne pepper and chili spice from her, indicating her level of anger.  She frowned.  "I wanted to ease you into the idea at first, before springing the announcement."  His groin tightened at the sight of Jackob in midair, hovering and eyeing him with a predatory gaze.  "But he's a thief!" And my former boyfriend. "No.  That prick is my other lover." She crossed her arms over her ample chest and leaned back against the wall.Kerian pushed himself away from the opposite wall.  "I see." He glared at her.  "You think one of us will impregnate you?"The rise and fall of his chest matched hers almost perfectly.  She stared hard at him, the steady resolve in her eyes emphasizing her point.  The pack badly needed this baby.  "I do."Kerian drew in a deep breath, and let it out slowly.  Slowly, he closed his eyes and put a thumb to his chin.  "I see."  He paused, blinked and then stared back at Iolite.  "Does Jackob know? Can he hear us?"She nodded her head.  "Yeah, he can hear us.  I thought I'd tell you first, since you're the level headed of the two." She spat the words out vehemently.  He nodded.  Hands out to his sides, he stepped back from Iolite, her apparent need for breathing room almost strangled him.  "But this assho – guy's a thief.  He'd rob his own mother and sell her blood for cash.""How do you know?" She stepped forward, poking a fingernail into his chest, punctuating every word.  "What proof do you have? I've seen the news.  Do you honestly think I'd be with a brute?"He coughed, "I uh, well no!" Kerian glanced at the frozen Jackob.  His hair remained spread out behind him, the dangerously sensual gaze, and that perfect mouth, he reminded Kerian of too many things from the past.  Or so he thought.  Jackob still had beautiful lips.  He remembered kissing them many a time; after work, first thing in the morning.  First thing before bed.  They weren't as soft as Iolite's, but still inviting, nonetheless.  "Then what's the deal, Kerian? Why the instant hostility?""Hey, he attacked me," Kerian crossed his arms over his chest.  "So ask him." Kerian turned away.Iolite huffed, "Fine.  Jackob, I'm going to unfreeze your head.  You will answer me?"Kerian looked at Jackob and saw him blink.  Iolite snapped her fingers.  Instantly, ice disappeared from Jackob's head.  "What the fuck, Iolite? Why did you–"She raised a hand and pointed a finger in his direction.  Jackob shut up."Now," she stepped over to him.  "You're my beautiful lover too.  A gorgeous alpha any woman would be proud to have, just like Kerian.  Why attack him and disrespect my home?" Her voice dropped a few notches.  Jackob snickered.  "He probably didn't tell you, did he?"Iolite faced Jackob, nodding.  "About the stealing, yes.  And I defended you."Kerian couldn't believe Iolite used her seductress voice on him, at a time like this.  Jackob tried to move, but peered down at his body, still frozen in ice.  He rolled his eyes and looked back at Iolite.  "No, silly.  Don't you wonder why we know each other, intimately?""No," she shook her head and looked at Kerian.  "What is he talking about?"Kerian bit his bottom lip.  "Tell him, Kerian.  Or are you still ashamed of our past?" Jackob spat the words out.With a clenched fist, Kerian stepped towards Jackob.  "I was never ashamed of us!" Kerian growled.  "Hah," Jacob scowled.  "You never told your pack about us.  You never came out of the closet." Jackob's words loomed in the air for a moment.  Kerian swallowed the lump forming in his throat.  Jackob lowered his head.  "At least I made some in my pack aware of our affair.  They didn't give me shit about it."Kerian's shoulders fell.  "You don't understand.  I don't have the–"Jackob scoffed.  "Same moral fibers I have.  Or the same pride.  Right.  Iolite, let me go from this ice."Iolite arched a curious brow, while biting her lip.  "Promise you'll behave?"Jackob nodded.  With a wave of her hand, the ice from Jackob's body melted and disappeared, as though never present.He landed, bending down on one knee.  Jackob bowed low, swept up the mess of hair that fell in front of him, then stood to his full height.Kerian's breath caught in his throat.  His heart hammered in his chest.  Jackob's long, dark, mane still managed to enhance his ruggedness, and cause blood flow to divert south.  Iolite's gaze never left Jackob's body.  Jackob strode across the room and stopped in front of Iolite.  He placed his mouth on hers, nibbled her bottom lip, while circling her waist with his large arm and pulling her to him.Damn him! Ire surged through Kerian's veins at the sight.  He'd have to accept another male in her life, it wouldn't be right to leave her for long periods of time without contact from him.  But .  .  .  Jackob?  The kiss dragged on.  Kerian tapped his foot.  "Ahem."Jackob broke from the kiss.  "Oh yeah.  I haven't forgotten you, my proud wolf." Long legs crossed the distance in two steps, until Jackob stood close enough for his scent to fill Kerian's nose.  Jackob's nostrils flared.  "You haven't changed, babe."Heart still thundering against his ribs, Kerian arched an eyebrow.  Before he could react, Jackob reached for his head, yanking his mouth against his.Jackob's lips pressed hard against Kerian's, hot and hungry, demanding.  A thick, wet, tongue invaded Kerian's mouth, swirling over teeth and tongue, lower lip.  Sucking in a breath, Kerian set his hands on Jackob's well-chiseled chest, but his efforts to push the other wolf off died the moment he made contact.Hips bumped against Kerian's, grinding his rather large cock against Kerian's body.Jackob pulled back, captured Kerian's lower lip and nibbling with his lips, before he dragged his teeth across the other man's tongue.  Kerian tasted darkness, wild, suggestive things, still present between them.  His mind warred with his hardened body, prick throbbing, heaving between his legs.  Jackob's massive size seemed to surround Kerian's body.  The pad of Jackob's tongue slid over Kerian's lip, tracing a pattern down his jaw, as fingers tangled in his hair and tugged him into the kiss.Knees weak, Kerian didn't have to be dragged, really.  Not now anyway.Kerian sucked in a breath, setting his hands on Jackob's shoulders, and enjoyed the feeling of Jackob's canines working a path of heat down his neck and over his clavicle.  Iolite stood off in the distance, her hands wandering over her body.  Kerian saw her caressing her breasts, teasing the nipples into tight points.  God, what he wouldn't do to have those breasts in his mouth, while Jackob fucked him from behind.Kerian squeaked, feeling a pair of teeth drag across his taut nipple.  Jackob straightened and looked him in the eye.  "I thought so." He smiled, stepped back and took a bow.  He turned toward Iolite.  "Babe, I'll see you later.  Bring the pup if you want.  We'll talk about this stupid disease, and how your wolf's blood can help us."
Buy Link:  http://www.amazon.com/Torn-To-Pieces-...

REBOUND by my pal Sabrina York out in all formats! Do. Not. Miss. It!

Rebound by Sabrina York is out now in all formats!Did you miss this yummy book?Do. Not!Why?When a kiss on a dare from her long-time crush suddenly flares into something more, passion explodes.A Tryst Island Erotic Romance (Book 1)Don’t miss Book One of the Tryst Island Series. Sizzling erotic romance from award winning author Sabrina York.
Need more of a nibble? Of course, you do! When Kristi Cross realizes Cameron Jackson, her long-time crush has a thing for her,  as long as she could remember, but she knows she’s not his type. She’s nothing like the women he dates. So when he suggests they play for a kiss over a game of Hearts, Kristi can’t resist. Even if she loses, she wins. Because she’s finally going totaste him. Of course, one kiss can quickly become something altogether steamier, especially when both parties are on the rebound…#1 Amazon Best selling Erotic Romance in May Fall in Love on Tryst Island When a group of friends share a vacation house, wild hijinks, unexpected hook-ups and steamy sex ensue. And true love. Did I mention they all find true love?  About Sabrina YorkHer Royal Hotness, Sabrina York, is the award winning author of hot, humorous stories for smart and sexy readers. She has many titles available which range from sweet & sexy erotic romance to BDSM to erotic horror. Connect with her on twitter @sabrina_york, on Facebook or on Pintrest. Visit her webpage at www.sabrinayork.com to check out her books, excerpts and contests. THANK YOU!!! Sabrina YorkHer Royal Hotnesswww.SabrinaYork.com@sabrina_yorkfacebook.com/SabrinaYorkBooks

L. M. Somerton tells us about LIVING ON THE EDGE!

Hi Cerise, and thanks so much for inviting me to your blog. I thought your readers might be interested in how little bits of me sneak their way in to my books, so here are a few secrets!
I love animals, but particularly cats. Merlin, the cat in The Portrait, is based on my own pet – Midnight, who is just as lazy!My favourite music is Goth rock and the names of some of the bands I listen to sometimes get a mention. Within Temptation is playing on a car journey in Living on the Edge.I’m interested in Greek and Roman mythology, so the occasional God pops up – Dionysus and Thor both get a mention in the book I’m finishing at the moment.My books all feature BDSM though I’m not a practitioner myself. Inspiration for a lot of the toys my characters use come from the website of a shop in San Francisco.I live in England and often feature places I love in my books – Mountain Rescue is set in Cumbria and The Edge series is based partly in North Yorkshire.
So, those are a few clues to my personality! I hope you enjoy discovering some more in my latest book, Living on the Edge – book 2 in the Tales from The Edgeseries. Here’s some blurb and an excerpt to tempt you…
Tales from The Edge - Series Blurb
The Edge is a training company with a difference. Its weekend clients come for classes in bondage and domination, not team building and problem solving.The management, staff and customers of The Edge do not lead boring lives. In fact they have a habit of getting themselves into all kinds of trouble. Put Dominant, possessive alpha males together with bratty, loveable submissives and sparks are bound to fly. These Tales from The Edge are their stories.

Living on the Edge - Book Blurb:Sometimes it takes willpower to resist temptation but courage to give in.Aiden Keller is a brilliant and intriguing young man. When he’s convicted of hacking, his sentence takes him to The Edge, a high-end corporate training company with a mysterious sideline. There he is given into the custody of its owner, the enigmatic and demanding Heath Anders, and his business partner Joe Dexter.From the moment Heath takes charge of Aiden he recognises the boy’s submissive nature, even though it is well hidden beneath a veneer of snarky attitude. But for twelve months, Aiden will be his responsibility and Heath cannot allow himself to get involved whilst the boy is obliged to obey him.Aiden settles into his new life with the help of Olly, Joe’s pretty, submissive boyfriend, who is very perceptive when it comes to noticing the sparks of attraction flying between Aiden and Heath. Slowly and gently, he teaches Aiden that submission is not a weakness and to accept his desire to be dominated.Unable to resist, Heath starts to test Aiden’s willingness to be obedient, and against all the odds, love (and lust) start to bloom. Aiden, however, is not quite what he seems and his past is about to endanger all their lives.


Excerpt:
   Aiden watched as he walked away. Broad shoulders topped a body wrapped in a dark fleece and black jeans. Every movement spoke of restrained strength. He moved confidently with a measured, unhurried pace. Aiden couldn’t stop his gaze from drifting down to a very nice arse—the guy was exceptionally well put together. It wasn’t difficult to imagine what it would be like to be held down by Heath, and somehow Aiden knew that held down was what he would be. Heath didn’t look the type for caring and sharing. He was so obviously dominant that it oozed from every pore.    “Probably straight.” Aiden hoped he had only thought the words rather than said them out loud. It was hardly appropriate to be thinking about the man in that way. Still, if he had to be stuck in some godforsaken place as slave labour for twelve months, at least there would be something nice to look at. Twelve months. Fuck. It felt like a life sentence, and Aiden wondered for the millionth time if what he had done was worth it.    Heath returned, levered his long legs beneath the table and placed a large cup of steaming coffee in front of him. Aiden’s hands shook just a little as he ripped open a sugar sachet and sprinkled a few grains into his drink. The fight with the miniature milk cartons proved a bit more challenging until a large hand closed around his own, took the annoying little pot away and opened it for him. The burning sensation would have been less if Aiden had plunged his hand into an open fire. Skin on skin contact with Heath short-circuited his brain and turned his cock into a very hard problem.    He shifted uncomfortably. “I don’t need your help.” He fought the second milk carton and sprayed white liquid across the table.    “Of course you don’t.” Heath wiped up the mess with a serviette. “Look at me, Aiden.”    Aiden suddenly found the tabletop very interesting indeed, but there was something about that voice that stripped away his resistance. Slowly, unwillingly, he raised his eyes.    “Better. I have one ground rule that we need to get out of the way. I know you don’t want to be here. Well, suck it up—I don’t care. You did something wrong and this is punishment, not a fucking day trip.”    Aiden blinked and clenched his fists beneath the table.    “From this point on, you do what I say, when I say it. Disobey me and you will be punished. Do as you’re told and we will get along just fine.”    “So, you say ‘Jump’ and I say ‘How high’? Is that how this works?” Months of frustration and worry brought sharpness to Aiden’s voice.    “How high, how far and what kind of fucking landing is required.”© L M Somerton
Buy links:
You can buy Living on the Edge today from Total-E-Bound at:http://www.total-e-bound.com/product.asp?P_ID=2242&utm_source=bookpromostrategy&utm_medium=authorpromo&utm_campaign=livingontheedge

From August 16th, it’s also available on general release at Amazon, Barnes and Noble, All Romance Café etc. just search for the title.

Author bio:
L M Somerton lives in a small village in the English countryside, surrounded by rolling hills, cows and sheep. She started writing to fill time between jobs and is now firmly and unashamedly addicted.
She loves the English weather, especially the rain, and adores a thunderstorm. She loves good food, warm company and a crackling fire. She’s fascinated by the psychology of relationships, especially between men, and her stories contain some subtle (and not so subtle) leanings towards BDSM.
Links
http://lmsomerton.wordpress.comhttp:/... @lmsomerton

There is nothing like a dame...with 3 men! Why I love menage and a quatre!

BUY HERE:http://www.total-e-bound.com/product.asp?strParents=&CAT_ID=&P_ID=2207Why do I love menages and a quartre?

Writing them taxes my brain!

How to keep the men uniquely different and appealing?

How to ensure all the body parts work appropriately and there is no ICK Factor?

How to ensure the heroine can enjoy what happens not only physically but emotionally?

THESE, dear reader, are not easy tasks.

And yet, I get a kick from champagne, riding too high with 3 guys on the page is my idea of some hot thing to do!

Premise?


When Bess Deveraux secures a position as cook in the household of the delectable devil who taught her the joy of loving years ago, she shows him that she has more to offer him now that she is older, wiser and oh so eager to please all the men in his employ.Bess Deveraux learnt the joy of loving years ago at the hands of a masterful man. But her family forbade her his notorious company. Now, at the opportunity to not only find that man again but also work for him, Bess secures a position in his household.Lord Taryn Wentworth has no idea where this delightful woman has been or how she managed to stand before him as his cook, but he is determined to enjoy her, her delectable offerings—and to offer them to his male staff as well.Taryn knows his lovely cook will agree to revel in every delight he has in store for her. After all, pretty Bess is an expert not merely in the fine art of satisfying human appetites, but in the refined art of pleasing many men at once, offering up her succulent body—in the dining room, on the kitchen table, on the floor and anywhere else her fancy or her master’s leads her.Reader Advisory: This book contains anal sex and the use of sex toys.

And if you haven't read this yet, do go for delicious words by this reviewer for HIS DELECTABLE COOK,  http://www.thejeepdiva.com/2013/07/review-his-delectable-cook-by-cerise-deland.html

Sabrina York does DRAGONFLY KISSES! I want me some of those!

Dylan Deveney has no interest in a wild fling. He simply wants a quiet place where he can try to forget a painful past and, barring that, drink himself to death. But when he catches a glimpse of his exquisite neighbor—in the buff—his passion for life reignites.
Cassie French can’t resist Dylan’s allure. From his scruffy beard to his earring to his intriguing dragonfly tattoo, she’s crazy about him. And sex between them is scorching. Everything seems perfect…until a tragedy from Dylan’s past threatens to ruin everything.
An Excerpt from Dragonfly KissesWhen they finished eating and bantering, a crackling silence fell. Cassie licked her finger and blotted up her crumbs. “Well,” she said. “I should probably be going.” She moved to stand.“Don’t.” One word, sharp, with a tinge of panic, froze her in place. She glanced at him.“Please stay. I’ve…enjoyed talking to you.”She forced a smile. “Lucy will be worried.”“About me?”She laughed. “About me. Poaching. We have rules about poaching, you see.”“Poaching only counts on things you own. Lucy doesn’t own me.”Cassie cleared her throat. “She wants to. And she has dibbs.”He snorted a laugh. “Sounds like third grade. And, by the way, I thought Bella had dibbs.”“They’re dueling over you.”His expression sobered. “Do I get a say in this?”  She tipped her head to the side. “Have you met them? They can be rather…adamant.”“So can I. When I want something.”Her heart flipped. “You, ah, want something?”“You know I do.”Holy heaven. His gaze was steamy. It left no doubt about exactly what he wanted. But she had to ask. “W-what?”He stood, balancing on one foot. “Come here.”The thread of command, of yearning, in his tone snared her. She couldn’t ignore it. She rounded the table and looked up at him. This close, he was even more mesmerizing. And he smelled…he smelled delicious. His cologne teased her nostrils. Musky and woodsy and manly.She stilled as he threaded his fingers through her hair and cupped her cheeks. And then his head descended.His lips brushed hers. Just a soft, sweet buss, but it held a skein of promise, a hint of hunger and a tinge of desperation. At her moan, he deepened the kiss, opening his mouth, pressing against her, consuming her. His taste, his essence, flooded her. Desire, wild and wanton, lashed her. Unbidden, a moan rose in her throat. He took it, swallowed it, gave it back.He pulled her closer, flush against him. His body was hard and hot. Demanding. A trill of excitement rippled through her as she nudged the thick wedge of his erection. Oh, she shouldn’t be doing this, kissing, consuming a man she barely knew like a lust-crazed wanton, but she couldn’t stop. And she kind of was. A lust-crazed wanton.Something about this man curled around her sanity, her core, and sank in with needy claws. She’d kissed a lot of men in her life. But never a kiss like this.He slanted his lips and took her from a new direction, molding his mouth over hers, teasing, nibbling, licking. She shuddered as his tongue dipped in. She met it with her own, then, unable to resist, gently sucked.He reared back and stared at her. His eyes were rimmed with red, burned with desire. “God, Cassie,” he groaned, but didn’t finish the thought. As though he couldn’t resist, he kissed her again, but this time with a fiercer passion, one that made her muscles lock, her heart thud, her body melt.She wrapped her arms around his neck, stroked his hair, then scored his scalp in a rake of need. His fingers began to rove over her back, up to her nape, down her flank. He squeezed her buttocks. The pressure sent shudders through her.And then, as he held her tight with one hand, the other skated to her breast, gauging her reaction as he gently cupped her. When she didn’t resist, when she wriggled impatiently in his embrace, he swept a thumb over her nipple.Her body seized. Rivulets of pleasure washed through her, sending pings of absolute delight straight to her tingling clit. She couldn’t help it. She ground that nub against his hardness.He growled.Like the Highlander he was, he growled.
Dragonfly Kisses is available on Amazon

Dragonfly Kisses by Sabrina YorkA Tryst Island Erotic Romance
Dylan Deveney has no interest in a wild fling. He simply wants a quiet place where he can try to forget a painful past and, barring that, drink himself to death. But when he catches a glimpse of his exquisite neighbor—in the buff—his passion for life reignites.
Cassie French can’t resist Dylan’s allure. From his scruffy beard to his earring to his intriguing dragonfly tattoo, she’s crazy about him. And sex between them is scorching. Everything seems perfect…until a tragedy from Dylan’s past threatens to ruin everything.
Dragonfly Kisses is available on Amazon on June 30th 
Sequels to Sabrina’s stories coming soon from Ellora's Cave:·         Making Over Maris is the sizzling follow up to Adam’s Obsession and Tristan’s Temptation. And for those of you who were wondering, yes, Jack does get “trained.” This story includes light FemDom elements.·         For you Regency fans who loved Folly and Dark Fancy, watch for Dark Duke (Edward’s story) and Brigand (Violet’s story), both coming soon from Ellora’s Cave.
About Sabrina YorkSabrina is an award winning author of erotic romance with nearly a dozen titles available, ranging from sweet & sexy erotic romance to BDSM to erotic horror. Connect with her on twitter @sabrina_york or Facebook.
Check out Sabrina’s books and read an excerpt on her webpage (www.sabrinayork.com) or explore on Amazon or at Ellora’s Cave.
BOOKS BY SABRINA YORKAdam’s Obsession (Erotic Contemporary, Ellora’s Cave)Dark Duke (Erotic Regency, Ellora’s Cave) —Coming soonBrigand (Erotic Regency, Ellora’s Cave) —Coming soonDark Fancy (Erotic Regency, Ellora’s Cave)Dragonfly Kisses: A Tryst Island Erotic Romance (Erotic Contemporary)—Coming soonExtreme Couponing (Erotic Contemporary, Ellora’s Cave)Fierce (Erotic Short Story, Decadent Publishing, One Night Stand)—Coming soonFive Alarm Fire (Erotic Contemporary for the High Octane Heroes Anthology, Cleis Press)—Coming September 3Folly (Erotic Regency, Ellora’s Cave)Lust Eternal (Erotic Fantasy, Ellora’s Cave)  Pushing Her Buttons (Erotic Contemporary, Ellora’s Cave)Making Over Maris (Erotic Contemporary, Ellora’s Cave) —Coming soonMan Hungry (Erotic Contemporary, Ellora’s Cave)Rebound: A Tryst Island Erotic Romance (Erotic Contemporary, Available on Amazon)Rising Green (Erotic Horror, Ellora’s Cave)Saving Charlotte (Erotic Contemporary for the Smokin' Hot Firemen Anthology, Cleis Press) —Coming July 16Training Tess (Erotic Contemporary, Ellora’s Cave)Trickery (Erotic Contemporary with Magical Elements, Ellora’s Cave Hex Line)Tristan’s Temptation (Erotic Contemporary, Ellora’s Cave)

Swords of Passion, #3 debuts Sept 6! WITH HER KISS on pre-order now!!!!

Love me a medieval knight!
A man who is not afraid to thwart King John!
And how 'bout a countess who does the same thing?
THEN?
John throws her in a dungeon…and all kinds of nasty things happen.
Then...good things!!!
I know.
You need to know more, more, more!
HERE WE GO!
Cover--yum.
Blurb--delish.

Defying his king, Geoffrey St. Claire invades a dungeon to save the woman he loves from cruel death. This time, he vows, he will save her and make her love him—or die trying.Countess Katherine Harleigh knew her refusal to become King John's lover courted his punishment. But she never thought he'd try to starve her. Cast into a dungeon—widowed, alone and disgraced—Kat fears no one can save her. Not even the one knight who always promised to love and protect her.Geoffrey St. Claire serves his Sire as loyally as a sane man can. But when John imprisons the one woman Geoff has always adored, he risks his lands and his life to ride to her rescue. Yet, he knows she will never welcome his aid. She hates him too much for deserting her years ago. But he will not leave her this time.Now, Geoff plans to save her from death and despair, nurse her back to health and then persuade her to love him as wholly as she once did. Seduction in her bath, her bed, her chamber is his only method and he prays he can restore her love for him before John appears with an army to take her from him once more…this time, forever.
Pre-order linkie do! http://www.total-e-bound.com/product.asp?strParents=&CAT_ID=&P_ID=2293

Sabrina York roars out with LUST ETERNAL from EC! Licking my lips!!!

Lust Eternal by Sabrina YorkFor thousands of years, Keeshan has waited. A curse put him in the lamp, damning him to an eternity of pleasing the women who find it. Each time, the women enter the lamp, ensnared in a web of lust and love. And each time, just as he grows to care, the women leave.
But Aimalee is different somehow. With her, Keeshan’s desire knows no bounds—he needs to be with her, inside her, every second she’s there, like an addict who just can’t get enough. Eventually she’ll leave just like the others but until then, Keeshan plans to indulge her every sinful urge. And maybe, just maybe, she’s the key to breaking the curse.
Inside Scoop: This paranormal romance features a plus-size heroine and a hero who worships her curves.
A Romantica® paranormal erotic romance from Ellora’s Cave 

Lust Eternal is available at Ellora’s Cave       

For thousands of years, Keeshan has waited. A curse put him in the lamp, damning him to an eternity of pleasing the women who find it. Each time, the women enter the lamp, ensnared in a web of lust and love.    And each time, just as he grows to care, the women leave.     But Aimalee is different somehow. With her, Keeshan’s desire knows no bounds—he needs to be with her, inside her, every second she’s there, like an addict who just can’t get enough. Eventually she’ll leave just like the others but until then, Keeshan plans to indulge her every sinful urge. And maybe, just maybe, she’s the key to breaking the curse.     Inside Scoop: This paranormal romance features a plus-size heroine and a hero who worships her curves.A Romantica® paranormal erotic romance from Ellora’s Cave
Lust Eternal is available at Ellora’s Cave      By reading any further, you are stating that you are at least 18 years of age. If you are under the age of 18, please exit this site.   An Excerpt From:      LUST   ETERNALCopyright © SABRINA YORK, 2013All Rights Reserved, Ellora's Cave Publishing, Inc.Aimalee picked up a clipboard and pretended to scan the sheet on top. “I have to get back to work. Did you want anything else?”   “There was one other thing. Carter asked if you could, you know, not come tonight.”   “Not come tonight?” Aimalee whirled around and gaped at Sorcha. She’d been working on this display for months, utterly devoted to this project for years. She’d been so looking forward to showing off her work, presenting her findings. She’d even bought a new dress for heaven’s sake.   That happened, maybe, once a decade or so.   "It’s going to be quite a crush. All the big benefactors will be there. And you are…” Sorcha made a scornful little flourish with slender fingers. Her expression said it all—mousy. Aimalee knew it to be true. She knew what she was. But having Sorcha point it out rankled.  “This is my display.”  “Sure. Do what you need to set it up but then make yourself scarce. Be out of there by seven. ’Kay?”   Sorcha pinned on a dazzling smile. “I told him you’d understand.”  With that she spun on her Jimmy Choos and waltzed from the room, elegantly swinging between boxes and crates and piles of books, leaving Aimalee sitting at her worktable, reeling with shock and repressed rage.  Make yourself scarce.  The mandate of her entire existence.  The fuck she wasn’t coming tonight. She’d worked far too long, far too hard on her dissertation, on this presentation, to simply fade into the background now when it was all coming to fruition. This was her baby. Oh, she’d be there. Come hell or high water.  Without thinking, without redonning her protective gloves—a monumental no-no in the museum world—Aimalee picked up the lamp and a cleaning cloth and began to polish her treasure. A deep sense of satisfaction and pleasure spiked through her, assuaging her annoyance.  Okay, so her love life was more than a little disappointing and frustrating. And yes, her professional prospects were limited but at least she loved her work. Really loved her work…  She renewed her invigorated scrubbing on that one smudge that just wouldn’t wipe away.Imagine the gall. Asking her to miss the night of her life so Sorcha could stand in the limelight at Carter’s side and reap the rewards.  Aimalee rubbed harder and faster, fury rising like a chained beast in her belly. A red tide descended, blurring her vision. Everything beyond the lamp faded. The world beyond her passion, her work, dissolved.   She’d had enough of this.  Enough hiding her relationship.  Enough elicit, hurried trysts.  Enough secrets.  Enough—  Her movements slowed as a strange sensation crawled down her spine from her neck to her solar plexus. It pooled in her womb. Her fingers and toes began to tingle. Throb. Prickles of excitement and anticipation skittered over her skin. Her body warmed, softened, dampened.  Her hand flew to her nape where gentle tendrils caressed her—like a lover’s whisper. The tingling increased and contracted and wafted inward to settle just below her pounding heart. Her essence condensed, coalesced, as light as smoke, wafting and roiling. A strange sense of unreality, of disengagement, overcame her. She closed her eyes and the dizzy sensation increased. She tried to open them again but couldn’t. She twisted, curled, floated in the ether. A great whooshing sensation rocked her consciousness, sucking her into a smaller and smaller space. A dark place.  And then an eerie silence, a supreme stillness, descended.                            * * * * *  Slowly, she came to herself. She glanced around in a befuddled daze and stilled. She was no longer in her familiar workroom but in a lavish boudoir, a seraglio swathed in gauzy, flowing drapes. Glowing braziers wreathed in aromatic smoke lit the room with a dim, somnambulant light. The velvet cushions she reclined upon teased her sensitive skin. With a start, she realized she was utterly naked. A shiver coursed through her. What on earth had happened? Where was she?  But before she could work it out, a billow of iridescent fog roiled before her. Aimalee stared, transfixed as the cloud slowly coalesced into human form. A man.  A very large man.  She tipped back her head and their gazes met, clashed. His eyes glowed with a scorching fervor. A bolt of electricity shot through her.  His features were stark, a savage beauty etched with a desperate hunger—high, striking cheekbones and wide, sensuous lips. Dark hair curled gently about his face and neck. A sudden desire to comb those silky skeins skittered through her.  Aimalee swallowed heavily. Her avaricious attention trailed down across brown shoulders and powerful arms. His chest was bare and broad and ridged. It rippled at the mere touch of her gaze.  He stood, legs slightly apart, bunching thighs taut as though he were about to spring forward but was holding himself back with great effort. Strength, power and passion rolled off him in waves.  But for metal cuffs about his wrists and neck, he was naked.  Oh. And he was aroused. Magnificently and tremendously aroused.  The sight of his jutting, throbbing member made her heart clench. A strange heat pooled in her womb when she noticed the pearlescent drop glistening at the tip of his cock.  He was, in a word, ready.  Then again, so was she.  And then he spoke—a deep, mellifluous voice that resonated straight through to her soul.  “I’ve been waiting for you, Aimalee,” he said. “I’ve been waiting for you a very long time.”