Silvia Violet's Blog, page 13

BDSM Excerpt Week – Heidi Lynn Anderson

Ava’s Pleasure by Heidi Lynn Anderson

Blurb

Of all the sex clubs, she had to walk into his.

When prim proper Ava stumbles into a Miami sex club, she isn’t expecting to find the man from her dreams. Navy SEAL Logan is just wasting time between missions until this naïve and innocent woman turns his world upside down.

How was Ava Cullen supposed to know her prim and proper aunt was part owner of the premier sex club in Miami and a top-notch Dominatrix? When she stumbled into club Paradise and came face to face with her dream man, she had a feeling she stood on the precipice of something life changing.

Navy SEAL Logan Turner always knew he needed more out of life than the next mission. That’s why he opened Paradise with his best friend Julie. It didn’t hurt that he could reap the benefits of owning a sex club. That was until a sexy, doe-eyed woman walked in, making his control slip for the first time ever.

Excerpt

Ava’s tongue swiped over her lips. “I don’t know.”

Logan slid the blindfold over Ava’s eyes and stood back to drink in the sight before him.

“I don’t know if I like this,” she said.

“What don’t you like, honey?” Logan watched the pulse in her neck beat a fast tattoo.

“I don’t know.”

“Are you uncomfortable?”

She shook her head. “No.”

“I know you think you haven’t been in control of your life.” Logan grasped the flogger and ran the silk strands over his palm. “But the opposite is true.”

“You’ve been making all the decisions for yourself.” Logan ran the strands between Ava’s full round tits, tracing their curve.

The sound of her moan had Logan inhaling hard. He needed to be careful, if he didn’t want to blow his load too soon. “Honey, you’re beautiful like this.” Logan made his way slowly—almost painfully so—to her luscious pussy. The sounds of longing that came from Ava filled him with joy and love.

BDSM Excerpt Week – Seduction of the Captain (Surrender 3)

Here’s an excerpt from the third book in my BDSM Sci fi series, Surrender, starring another sexy Lalatian dominant.

Seduction of the Captain by Silvia Violet

Blurb:

Kajinek is a Lalatian Dominant who must feed on fear, pain, and sex for survival. Since leaving his homeworld, he hasn’t met a woman who could truly satisfy his needs.

Mercenary captain Saida Alexander needs a pilot for the most dangerous mission she’s ever undertaken. She chooses Kajinek, because he’s reputed to be the very best. She never suspects that he’ll awaken the submissive desires she’s ignored for years.

When Saida knocks on Kajinek’s door, he senses that she’s the partner he’s been looking for. He agrees to fly her ship under one condition; she must personally feed his darkest desires. Can Saida give in to what her body wants or will submitting sexually shatter the careful control she wields over the rest of her life?

*Warning: This is an X-rated excerpt*

Excerpt:

Kajinek followed Saida down the corridor toward their quarters, fighting the urge to throw her over his shoulders and run just to get there a few seconds faster. His cock felt like an iron rod in his pants, and the need to take her burned through his veins. At every stop along the tour, she‟d managed to brush against him, lean over him, flaunt her body at him, all without seeming to do a thing.

When her ass had brushed his cock as she stepped back into him while reaching for an overhead hatch, he‟d almost lost it. He‟d planned to introduce her to more of his implements of torment that night. He‟d wanted to work her up, make her beg, make her acknowledge what she was to him, but that would have to wait until he got some relief. The second the door to her quarters was closed, he was going to take her hard and fast. Then he was going to torment her until she surrendered her very soul.

Saida laid her palm against the sensor beside her door. Kajinek smiled when he noticed her hand trembling. He breathed deep, drawing in a satisfying stream of hunger and fear.

The door slid back. Saida stepped through. He stepped in behind her, so close they were nearly touching. She smacked the interior sensor. The door slid closed ever so slowly. Kaj didn‟t move. Neither did Saida. The door clicked shut.

“Full privacy screens.” Saida’s voice was low and husky.

The control computer responded. “Confirmed.”

Kaj grabbed her shoulders, spun her, and slammed her back against the door. He crushed his lips to hers in a brutal kiss. He wasn‟t interested in finesse or seduction or even forcing her submission—he simply wanted. Wanted what she‟d been flaunting all night, wanted relief from the hunger that raged through him.

“Fuck me,” Saida demanded, arching her hips to slide her pussy along the hard length of his cock.

He felt the heat of her through her suit and his pants. But that wasn’t enough. He needed her naked; he needed to be inside her. He needed to make her scream. But he couldn’t seem to tear himself away from her mouth.They bit and sucked at each other. Their tongues were like weapons fighting to devour each other. She dug her nails into his back, tearing into him like the claws she could form. He groaned and used his hips to pin her to the wall while he ground his cock against her pussy lips, which were as clearly defined against her suit as if she were already naked.

She growled and bit his lip hard enough to draw blood. Pleasure jolted through him. He might not need pain like a submissive did, but he‟d been taught to appreciate any heightening of sensation. He sucked her tongue into his mouth so hard, she groaned and bucked against him, trying to get him to move, working her clit against the hardness of his shaft. He drank down her fierce need, wanting more, wanting her surrender, wanting to eat her up.

She raked her nails down his back—no longer fingernails, but claws—ripping the fabric of his shirt. He gasped and pulled away from her. Her eyes burned with passion, but they still looked human. “Saida?”

Her need assaulted him, nearly making him choke. She struggled to draw in air. “I‟m controlling it. Some of my lovers…like the…danger. I thought you…would too.” She worked the fastening of his pants. Once she got them open, she shoved them over his hips, freeing his cock.

She wrapped her still-clawed hand around his cock and slid it up and down. He didn’t think it was possible to get any harder, but she proved him wrong. He was supposed to be the one who inspired fear, the one who fed his partner‟s need for danger, but the sight of her claws wrapped around his cock was making him hotter than he‟d thought possible. If she didn’t stop soon, he was going to come.

“Enough.” He closed his fingers around her wrist. She released him, but she trailed one of her claws down the length of his cock, barely skimming the delicate skin. He sucked in his breath. His cock jerked, reaching for her touch, wanting the danger she offered.

Saida chuckled. “I knew you were addicted to danger.”

Anger burned inside him. How the hell had she gotten the upper hand? As soon as he‟d slaked the lust burning through him enough to think again, he was going to torture her until she begged to serve him. He‟d make her his slave. He looked up, letting her see the anger burning like fire in his eyes. “You have no sense of self-preservation.”

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BDSM Excerpt Week – SJD Peterson

Masters and Boyd by SJD Peterson

Blurb:

Carrick Masters and Edward Boyd have already found true love—it’s the happy ever after that’s eluding them. Between Carrick’s job as an orthopedic surgeon and Ed’s career as a defense attorney, they have hardly any time to spend together, and what time they do have seems to be poisoned by resentment. Carrick and Ed know they need to refocus to make their marriage work, but they seriously need more than a spicy once-a-week date night to get them back on track.

Excerpt:

THE opulent ruby-red décor glimmered softly under the glow of two huge open fireplaces. A quintuplet of dazzling crystal chandeliers looming majestically overhead reflected the light, causing it to dance in the intimate two-tiered dining space. Swirling the dark purple wine around in his glass, Edward Boyd inhaled deeply, taking in the aromas of blackberry, plum, licorice, and spice. Raising the glass to his lips, he took a small sip. Concentrated berry and pepper flavors with a silky feel danced across his tongue. Delicious.

No matter how wonderful the atmosphere at Acapella, how impeccable the staff or how perfect the wine, Ed simply couldn’t enjoy it with his heavy heart. Three years he’d been with Carrick Masters. Three years of living, loving, and building a strong and solid relationship. Tonight was to be their celebration of those three wonderful years, and yet here he sat alone.

Ed had made the reservations, confirmed schedules, and made sure every minute detail was taken care of. He’d even laid out Carrick’s attire for the evening on their king-size bed: a dark blue Armani suit, a blue jacquard monogrammed French-cuffed dress shirt, Carrick’s favorite gold and sapphire cuff links, black Ferragamo lace-up shoes with a matching belt, and a gold-and-navy silk tie. In addition, since all finely dressed men wore T-shirts under their dress shirts, and Carrick would be looking fine, he had remembered to lay out silk boxers and a T-shirt to keep him looking fresh. His lover had been working himself to exhaustion, and Ed had hoped that by planning everything right on down to Carrick’s attire for the evening, there would be nothing for Carrick to worry about.

Ed’s chest tightened painfully as he glanced down at his watch. He’d been waiting for Carrick for forty-five minutes and finally had to admit that worrying about Carrick’s ensemble should have been the least of his problems. Insignificant worry compared to why my husband stood me up on our anniversary.

After paying for his wine and leaving a sizeable tip, Ed gathered up the small box and card he’d placed on Carrick’s salad plate and made his way out of the restaurant. He waved off the door attendant, who had opened the rear door to a waiting taxi.

“Thanks, Carl, but I think I’ll walk home tonight.”

“Very well, sir. Have a good evening, Mr. Boyd.”

Ed waved his goodbye without turning back and headed down the nearly deserted sidewalk. There was a chill in the air, and he hoped that the quiet walk and cool evening temperatures would help clear his head, though he doubted that any amount of walking would relieve the heaviness in his chest or the sting in his eyes. Christ, had it only been three years since he married Carrick Masters? It seemed like just last week that the most stunning man he’d ever seen had taken the seat next to him on a bench outside St. Mary’s Hospital and met his gaze with twinkling hazel-green eyes. As he walked, his mind traveled back in time.

“Mind if I have a seat?”

Ed’s breath caught as he looked up. “Umm… no. I mean, I don’t mind,” he stammered.

Good Lord, the man was gorgeous. His disheveled short brown hair stood out in a hundred different directions as if he’d been repeatedly running his hands through it. The stranger had a strong square jaw with dark stubble, high cheekbones, and thin lips. Wide shoulders filled out the blue surgical scrub top, tapering down to lean waist, the bright red drawstrings of his scrub pants catching Ed’s attention. One little tug of the string….

Ed gathered his wayward thoughts, cheeks heating as the man took the seat next to him and extended his large hand. “I’m Carrick.”

“Ed,” he replied, accepting the offered hand.

He’d never forget that first moment when his and Carrick’s hands had touched. A jolt had shot through him as the skin of their palms met, each man’s grip tightening as sure as the tightening in his groin and their gazes locking. His dad’s mishap with a circular saw—okay, so nearly cutting off a hand was probably a little more than a mishap, but thanks to dear ol’ Dad’s carelessness, he’d met the man of his dreams while sitting out in front of St. Mary’s Hospital as the surgeons worked to save Jonathon Boyd’s hand. To this day, one touch from Carrick still sent a jolt through him.

Their lives had been crazy back then, Carrick in his third year of residency in the surgical program and Ed in his final year of his Juris Doctorate degree. Yet no matter how busy, they always seemed to find time for each other. Some days their time together was measured in minutes rather than hours, but they had always been thankful for each occasion and cherished each opportunity, giving each other their sole focus while they were together, counting the minutes until they could be together again. Even in the limited amount of free time Ed had, Carrick always made him feel special.

Ed rubbed absently at his chest as he made his way down Seventh Avenue. Their lives were still busy—his husband was in the fellowship program, specializing in pediatric orthopedics. Carrick only had a few months left. He’d soon be joining a very well-known and successful orthopedic group, and Ed was now a junior partner in his dad’s law firm. Soon school would be behind them and their lives would become more manageable, time-wise, and yet Ed wasn’t so sure anymore that their relationship had endured the stresses. He certainly didn’t feel special anymore.

Reaching the row house he shared with Carrick, Ed ran a finger along the black wrought iron railing as he took the steps up to their front door. A smile crossed his face as he remembered a happier time, the way his much larger lover had lifted him into his arms and carried him up these very steps the night of their commitment ceremony. If he concentrated hard enough, Ed could still hear their laughter, could still see the love and happiness that had shone in his lover’s eyes. His chest tightened. God, I miss that look.

BDSM Excerpt Week – Deceived (Galactic Betrayal 2)

Deceived (Galactic Betrayal 2) by Silvia Violet

Blurb:

Several months after confessing his love for Lark, his former partner at the Intergalactic Investigations Bureau, Derek Carlson is hired to extract a sniper from the Kraxnafton prison on Lithusia. He hopes the mission will allow him to uncover the identity of the traitor responsible for his own imprisonment.

Lark is certain the mission is a setup, but he won’t let Derek return to Lithusia alone. Derek is his now, and nothing is going to tear them apart–not a sniper out only for herself, not the IIB, not even the Kraxnafton torturers. Derek’s judgment is clouded by dark memories, and Lark must decide whom he can trust. The wrong choice would be fatal for both of them.

 

*Warning: This is an X-rated excerpt*

Lark’s heart slammed against his chest. The idea of Derek… he couldn’t even think it. He loved Derek so much. How the hell were they going to get past this? How could he banish Derek’s demons? Would catching the culprit at the IIB work? If so, the risk they were taking was well worth it. Until then, Lark had only one thing to offer. Derek couldn’t control what had happened to them, or whether they would ever find out who and how and why, but Derek could control Lark if Lark let him.

So much for making plans for the mission first.

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Deceived Silvia Violet

Lark unzipped his bag and pulled out a control collar, the same one Lark had used on Derek when he was Lark’s prisoner on Lancarina. When he’d decided to trust Derek not to betray him, he’d taken it off. Derek had sensed Lark’s deep need for submission and asked him to wear it. He had, and they’d used it several times since then, but Derek didn’t know Lark had brought it to Lithusia.

Derek turned around as Lark re-closed the bag. His eyes widened when he saw what Lark held. Lark could almost see the anger, fear, and uncertainly in him re- channeling themselves into lust.

He walked toward Derek on his knees and held up the collar and control box while keeping his gaze on the carpet. “Master me. Please.”

Derek sucked in his breath. Lark felt the quiver in his lover’s hand as he took the collar.

“Lark, are you sure?” Derek’s voice was soft, low.

“Please.” One way or another, Lark was going into the Krax prisons the next day. They might never see each other again. Lark needed to be touched all the way to his soul before he stepped into that hell.

“Please, what?” Derek’s commanding tone told Lark he’d agreed to play the game.

“Please, sir.”

Derek laid the cool bio-material against Lark’s neck,

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Deceived Silvia Violet

the long strand twined itself into a circlet, and the ends fused. Lark braced himself for the jolt he’d get as Derek connected the collar with his nervous system.

The current rocked him. He fell forward, catching himself on his hands. His body twitched with the aftereffects. Derek had never turned the pain setting up that far. This would be one hell of a night.

“Strip and get on the bed. I’m going to use you hard tonight. You’ve got your safe word if you need it.” Despite the pain still screaming through his limbs, Derek’s cold command and the knowledge that he held complete control over Lark had him rock hard. When Lark shoved his pants down, Derek stared at his bouncing cock.

“You’re certainly eager.”

Lark dared to look him in the eye. “I’ve never wanted anything more.”

The look of pure desire in Derek’s eyes let Lark know he’d done the right thing.

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BDSM Excerpts Week – Cassandra Carr

Caught by Cassandra Carr

BLURB:

When Callie returns to her hometown for the holidays she comes face to face with her old lover and Dominant, Jack. She left him three years ago believing he could never be the happily-ever-after man she needed. Yet Jack still wants her and she finds herself wanting to submit to him again.

As Jack and Callie explore their Dominant/submissive relationship, Callie gets drawn deep into Jack’s world all over again. For his part, Jack can’t seem to forget how she nearly ruined him when she took off without even saying good-bye all those years ago, but he’s afraid his baser needs will destroy Callie.

If Callie give Jack another chance to prove he can be what she needs, can Jack overcome his own fears and claim Callie forever?

EXCERPT:

‘They’re really taking this politically correct thing too far.’

Stepping from the foyer into the living room, Callie spied a twinkling Christmas tree in the corner. On the mantel, a lit menorah burned, the candles flickering as the people nearby jostled for position as more and more guests crammed into the room. This was a boisterous crowd; already drinking like it was New Year’s. Advancing further into the room, she noticed the Kwanza decorations and rolled her eyes.

‘Pick a holiday and go with it, people. You can’t please everyone.’

She sought out the host and hostess, old friends from her grad school days, and said hello, handing over the obligatory “Thanks for inviting me” bottle of wine. They chatted for a bit to catch up before she grabbed a cocktail and made her way toward the dining room in search of other former classmates and some food. The smells of the various delicacies wafted by, making her mouth water in anticipation. She had just gotten into town and was starving. Plopping a slice of Cheddar cheese onto a cracker, she stuffed it into her mouth and then looked up — and everything inside her came to a screeching halt.

Jack was there.

With a beer hanging from his long, rough fingers, he leaned against the wall, casual as can be, while her world tilted on its axis. He looked so good– still the same tall, well-muscled body, still the same olive skin, black hair, and full lips. His Italian ancestry lent him an air of exoticness, and she’d always been a sucker for that.

Her stomach roiled. The cracker caught in her throat, choking her. As she began to cough and sputter, he turned to see what the commotion was, and their gazes met. Callie watched as his eyes went dark with heat and recognition. A blush rushed up her chest through her neck and into her face. With suddenly cold fingers, she touched her burning skin.

He brought his beer to his lips and took a long pull, his tongue sneaking out to catch a stray drop from his top lip. Her gaze followed the movement. His own intense gaze never left her face. Even when his companion said something to him, he merely nodded and kept the whole of his attention on her. She took a fortifying sip of her vodka and cranberry juice, then another, longer gulp, trying to dislodge the cracker from her throat. And still he stared.

And she did the same damn thing she’d done three years ago when she’d gotten scared by his demands, his power — she ran. Cursing herself for her cowardice, she nonetheless wove her way through the crowd, setting her drink down on the nearest available surface as she rushed past. But before she made it to the front door, she felt his hand, still chilled from holding the beer bottle, curl around her overheated arm. “Long time no see. Leaving so soon, Callie?”

He pulled her around to face him, he backed her up against the wall in the foyer. With him this close, with his touch and his smell and his sheer size surrounding her, her body betrayed her, just like it always had where he was concerned. Her nipples tightened, her pussy ached, and her breath quickened. “What are you doing here?” She sighed at her own stupidity for asking something so obvious.

“These are my friends. A better question to ask is — what are you doing here?”

“I came back to town for the holidays, and I wanted to see some of my old grad school buddies. I guess I-I didn’t think about the possibility of you being here.”

“Is me being here a problem?”

“No,” she answered too quickly.

“I miss you.”

“I miss you too.”

‘Dammit! What else am I going to admit to him?’

“I still want you. I want to touch you. I need to touch you. May I?” At her silent nod, he lightly rested his hand around her throat. Not hard enough to choke, but enough to establish his dominance over her.

‘Like he needs to establish that. How could I possibly forget who and what he is?’

Callie shivered. God, she wanted him. She’d never been as scared or as excited or felt as alive as she had during the year and a half she had subbed for Jack. Seeing him again made her want to get down on her knees and give him anything he wanted. If she remembered correctly, that was everything. But could he give it back to her? Before, he’d been unable or unwilling to, and when she hadn’t been able to handle loving him without reciprocation anymore, she’d left.

Her lips were parched, and she darted her tongue out to wet them. His eyes turned black as they blazed back at her. “I want you too.” And it was the truth. She wanted him, and this time, she’d have him. If she ran away again, she knew she’d regret it for the rest of her life.

“Are you collared?”

“No.”

“Seeing anyone?”

She turned the question around. “Are you seeing anyone?” A strange look passed over his face, but Callie couldn’t interpret it before it was gone.

“No. Answer me, Callie — are you seeing anyone?”

“No.”

Letting out a soft growl, Jack cupped the back of her neck in his large hand and kissed her. There was nothing gentle in his kiss — there never had been. This kiss was one of possession, of establishing even more control. He pressed in further, molding his body to hers while he continued to plunder her mouth. He didn’t force his tongue inside; he didn’t have to.

Surrendering, she relaxed and let him take her. He let out a grunt of satisfaction and changed the angle of her head so he could deepen the kiss. He slid a powerful thigh between hers as she moaned from the sensual onslaught.

After long moments he pulled away, grabbed her hand, and led her toward the back of the house. Callie gasped when he pushed her into a bedroom and kicked the door closed. She whirled around to face him but couldn’t bring herself to look him in the eye, reverting to the naturally submissive pose of staring at his feet, her hands behind her back. She hadn’t subbed for anyone in the three years she’d been gone and was amazed at how quickly the submissive veil slipped over her again. He chuckled.

“My pet, you’re still a delightful submissive, I see.” He took a gentle hold on her chin and pulled her face up to his. “I want you. I’ve always wanted you, since the moment you walked into my classroom. I know I’m a selfish bastard, but I’m going to ask for this most exquisite Christmas present anyway: will you submit to me again?”

Callie nodded, too overcome with emotion to speak.

“I want to hear the words — I want you to be sure.”

“Yes, I’ll sub for you,” she managed to get out around the lump in her throat.

“Good. Then you’ll be available to me insofar as you’re able to, barring other commitments. Do you understand me?”

“Yes,” she answered, the word hardly loud enough to be considered a whisper. She licked her lips again.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“By the way, I’m clean. I was tested a few months ago. You?”

“Yes, Sir, same.”

He stepped forward and shoved her to her knees. She went willingly. Callie wanted this — she wanted to show him she could handle him this time. Keeping her eyes trained on the floor, she waited for his next move. He let her stew for a minute and then pulled her to him, undoing his pants with his other hand. He guided his already-erect cock into her mouth, and she took it, letting his essence wash over her tongue, relearning the contours of the head, the smoothness of the shaft, as he sawed in and out of her mouth with brutal strokes. He’d never been easy on her, and tonight was no exception.

He pulled his still-hard cock out of her mouth, resting just the very tip on her bottom lip. “How long are you in town for?”

Callie drew back enough to answer, “Through the first of the year.”

She looked up in time to see him smile. “Excellent. We have a few weeks, then.” He thrust all the way to the back of her throat, and she struggled not to gag. He held the back of her head with both hands, forcing her to take his dick all the way to the root, and held it there for several seconds. “Where are you staying?” He pulled out again. He had always liked carrying on conversations as Callie sucked him — reinforcing his dominance by repeatedly pulling out and then shoving back into her mouth as he saw fit.

“With Lora,” she answered, naming her oldest friend.

“Ah, not far from me. I still live on Tremont. Is she going to let you play?”

“Lora lets me do whatever I want — she doesn’t judge.”

“I think I’m really going to enjoy the holidays for the first time in a long while.” He went up on tiptoe and pushed back into her mouth, tilting her head until it was at the angle he wanted, and then began ruthlessly plundering her depths. “It’s been a long time since you’ve tasted my cum, my sweet. You’re going to swallow it — every drop, like the gift it is.”

A scant few seconds later, Callie felt his cock swelling even larger, growing even longer, and then after pulling back until only his cockhead remained inside her mouth, he was coming; straining, as jet after jet of warm, salty liquid shot onto her tongue and slid down her throat. When he was finally spent, he withdrew completely and put himself back together. She remained on her knees, the denim of her jeans little protection from the hardwood floor.

Some might say she gave in too easily, but as Callie considered the man before her who’d turned her world upside down now for the second time, she knew that wasn’t true. Not at all. Her soul was at peace for the first time in years. She was a different person than she’d been all those years ago. Callie was what and where she needed to be: she just had to figure out how to hold on to the fragile sense of contentment she’d discovered tonight.

He briefly stroked the side of her face, then leaned down to touch his lips to hers. “Give me your number.” She started to reach into the purse that had fallen beside her on the floor. He chuckled. “You may rise.” Standing up with her purse, she pulled a small sheet from the memo pad she always kept with her. “Still jotting notes, I see.”

“Yes, you never know where or when you’ll find inspiration,” she answered, quoting one of his own mantras back to him. After writing down her cell phone number, she handed him the paper.

He held up it and kissed it. “I’ll be in touch.” After taking one last look at her, he left the room.

She sat down on the bed, touching the tips of her fingers to her lips. Undoubtedly he thought he’d scored a great coup, bringing her back into his fold. Little did he realize, though… Sometimes the hunter becomes the hunted.

Copyright 2011, Cassandra Carr

BDSM Excerpts Week – Abandoned (Galactic Betrayal 1)

To kick things off. Here’s an excerpt from the first story in my BDSM sci fi series, Galactic Betrayal.

Galactic Betrayal 1: Abandoned by Silvia Violet

Lark Zaccaro and Derek Carlson were partners and friends. Lark wanted more. Then someone at the Intergalactic Investigations Bureau sold them out to enemy aliens. Lark was forced to abandon Derek to the enemy, and Derek bought the IIB’s story that Lark betrayed them all.

When Lark’s deep cover mission and Derek’s new job in search-and-rescue collide, the desire simmering between them explodes. Lark needs Derek’s help to escape a new enemy, and Derek needs to discover the truth about what really happened on that alien planet. Can they overcome lies and betrayal and find the love and comfort they seek, or will their past forever keep them apart?

*Warning: This is an X-rated Excerpt.*

Excerpt

Derek took a few steps toward Lark. They stared at each other. Lark’s breath came harsh and fast. He needed Derek so badly, but Derek was like a sweet-tasting poison. And when he was gone, Lark didn’t know if he’d be able to pull himself together again.

Derek dropped his hand to his cock. Lark shuddered as he watched Derek stroke himself through the thin cotton pants. He needed Derek, but he needed more than a simple fuck. He needed Derek to let his anger go this time. Lark wanted to be punished for what he’d done and to find absolution in heat and pain and dark desire.

Derek took another step toward him. “What do you need?” he asked as if he’d read Lark’s thoughts.

“You. Hard. Rough. No mercy. I need you to punish me.”

Derek looked wary. “I took you pretty hard yesterday.”

Lark nodded. “But I want something darker. I want it to hurt.”

“Fuck, Lark.”

“Please. You need this too.”

Derek looked like he wanted to deny it, but he didn’t. “I’ve needed this forever, since way before Lithusia. I just didn’t think…”

“That I’d let you? Oh gods, Derek, I craved it, but I couldn’t tell you.”

“You told me now.” Derek closed the distance between them and pulled Lark into his arms. Their lips met in a brutal kiss.

Lark slid his hands under Derek’s shirt, pushing it up, needing to feel skin on skin. He plastered himself to Derek as they kissed, pouring all their hurt and need into each other. Derek’s cupped Lark’s face in his hands, holding him still so he could thoroughly fuck his mouth.

He shoved Derek’s pants down, cupped his ass, and brought their hips together. They groaned into each other’s mouths, and Derek rubbed his cock along Lark’s. “Gonna fuck you so hard. Gonna make you pay for hurting me.”

“Yes, gods yes,” Lark whispered the words against his mouth.

Derek pulled away. “On the bed. Hands and knees. Ass in the air.”

Lark hesitated. He wanted Derek, but resistance was ingrained in him, especially after his months on Lancarina. Derek frowned. “Are you sure about this?”

Lark’s heart pounded. He wanted Derek, needed this release. “Yes,” he answered, voice quaking.

“Then get the fuck on the bed, now.”

This time Lark scrambled to obey, Derek’s commanding voice made his cock harden again. Long seconds passed, and Derek still hadn’t joined him on the bed. He looked over his shoulder and saw Derek heading for the bathroom. “Head down,” Derek barked. Lark forced himself to do as he was told. Was Derek searching for the remote for his collar? He wanted desperately to believe Derek wouldn’t throw his need back at him like that.

A few seconds later, the mattress sagged with Derek’s weight. Derek laid a hand at the base of Lark’s spine. Warmth spread through Lark, that simple touch letting him know everything was okay. Derek wasn’t leaving him.

“I want to take the collar off and put it on you. As soon as we’re done, I’ll put it back on and wear it until we board my ship. Do I have your permission?”

Lark had never worn a control collar. He’d never trusted anyone to have total control over him. Despite all that had passed between them, he trusted Derek. But could he really submit so completely? Why the hell not? The man owned his heart anyway. “Yes.” The word came out as a whisper.

Derek caressed his back with firm strokes of his hand. “Safeword?”

Lark smiled. “Steamroller.” He’d chosen the name of the ship Derek had flown when they were partners.

Derek caressed Lark’s ass. “Perfect.”

Derek wrapped the collar around Lark’s neck. Lark shoved at him and jerked away, his instinct for preservation taking over. His stomach knotted in fear. He was crazy to let Derek collar him. Crazy and so damn needy he was barely keeping himself together. He turned away from Derek and tried to get himself under control.

Derek caressed his shoulder as Lark leaned against the headboard, panting. “Lark?”

“I’m not sure I can do this, Derek.” Lark shivered. “I want to but…”

“I swear I will take it off if you ask.”

Lark nodded. Derek had never lied to him. He’d believed Lark capable of treachery, but he’d never lied. Lark positioned himself on his hands and knees again. “I’m ready now.”

He tensed as Derek let the sinewy strand slide against his neck. Almost instantly, the bio-material twined itself into a solid ring. Derek kissed Lark’s neck then slid his lips along Lark’s spine. Lark breathed deep, trying to relax, bracing himself for Derek to shock him with the collar to activate it. Lark had no idea how far Derek would go with the punishment settings, and he didn’t know whether that scared him or turned him on. His cock definitely didn’t mind the uncertainty.

Buy it at Silver Publishing

Buy it at Amazon

BDSM Excerpt Week – Oct 1-7

All next week, October 1-7, I’ll be posting excerpts from my own BDSM titles as well as excerpts from my fellow authors. It’s a celebration of BDSM romance in honor of the released of Deceived, the second book in my BDSM sci fi series, Galactic Betrayal.

So please join us each day to find out more about some scorching reads!

Backlist Blog Hop: Abandoned

Welcome to the Backlist Blog Hop. I’m sharing the first book in my Galactic Betrayal series, Abandoned.

After indulging in a Burn Notice marathon, I started thinking about spies and betrayal and the importance of a partner or a team you can trust. Those ponderings mingled with some sci fi world-building I’d been doing, and suddenly Lark and Derek were telling me their story. I learned that they were spies several hundred years in the future. They’d been partners until their superiors told Derek that Lark betrayed him and sent Lark on a deep-cover mission cutting him off from communication with the civilized world.

Most of my recent writing prior to this story had been on the lighter side, but Lark and Derek were hurting, and their book got heavy and emotional. Each of these men believe they’ve been abandoned. They’ve got a lot of angst and grief to work through and a lot of unrequited lust. I came to care for them as deeply as I could any character while writing their story (Actually, I’m still writing it. Book 2, Deceived will be available on September 8 and I’m working on Book 3). I hope they touch you as deeply as they have me.

Galactic Betrayal 1: Abandoned by Silvia Violet

Blurb:

Lark Zaccaro and Derek Carlson were partners and friends. Lark wanted more. Then someone at the Intergalactic Investigations Bureau sold them out to enemy aliens. Lark was forced to abandon Derek to the enemy, and Derek bought the IIB’s story that Lark betrayed them all.

When Lark’s deep cover mission and Derek’s new job in search-and-rescue collide, the desire simmering between them explodes. Lark needs Derek’s help to escape a new enemy, and Derek needs to discover the truth about what really happened on that alien planet. Can they overcome lies and betrayal and find the love and comfort they seek, or will their past forever keep them apart?

 

Excerpt:

Lark Zaccaro smiled as he stepped out of the dripping jungle heat, and into the prison building. Even inside, the stale air was so splyvin’ hot it belonged in an oven. He didn’t know how anyone could breathe. Not that he was supposed to give a fuck if his prisoners got air or not. He took as deep a breath as he could and headed straight for the interrogation room.

A few hours earlier, his guards had discovered a man crouched in the underbrush, spying on their enclave. Lark’s morning had been hell so far, and a vicious interrogation suited his mood perfectly. The two guards flanking the door stepped aside, so he could enter what was truly more of a torture chamber than an interrogation room. At least that’s what it had been for his predecessor, and the longer Lark lived on Lancarina, the more he found himself becoming like the man he’d assassinated and replaced. He pushed that disturbing thought away. He wouldn’t dwell on how low he’d sunk since he’d left his partner to die in a Lithusian prison cell.

The captive hung from the ceiling, suspended by a heavy chain circling his bound wrists. His toes barely scraped the floor, forcing his arms to support the weight of his large body. The dirty chain bit into his wrists, and blood dripped down his arms. In this squalid jungle, he’d have a deadly infection in no time. Lark would have to do something about that. The man had a ship with advanced defenses. Thus, he was Lark’s ticket off this cesspool of a planet.

The man’s clothes hung in shreds, and Lark couldn’t help but admire his muscular body. His gaze slid over the captive’s hard thighs, the impressive bulge in his pants, and the well-defined and disturbingly familiar planes of his chest. When he saw the man’s face, he froze. No. It couldn’t be. His former partner would have no reason to be here. But Derek Carlson, the man who had haunted Lark’s nightmares and his fantasies every day for the six Old Earth months he been in this hellhole, was right in front of him. Chained. Suspended. His to do with as he pleased.

Lark’s cock hardened, pressing against the confines of his pants. His body knew what it wanted from Derek, but his mind was less sure. Retribution? Forgiveness? A hot fuck before he threw him in prison to rot? Salvation? His gut knotted at that thought, and he fought to keep his guards from noticing how off kilter he was. He had to play his role, not rush this moment.

There would be time later, in his private quarters, to decide what he wanted to know and how he was going to get the information. If the vessel they had captured in the jungle was Derek’s private issue ship, then he’d finally forsaken the lying scum at the Intergalactic Investigation Bureau. They might say their mission is to protect everyone in the five galaxies, but they only care about protecting their own asses. Lark intended to find out why Derek had left, but his guards would play no part in that interrogation. Derek was his.

Lark took a few steps toward the prisoner and studied him. He’d wanted him for years, from the moment they were assigned to work with each other at the IIB. Derek had turned down all his advances, saying they should keep their relationship professional. But now Derek was his prisoner, not his partner. If he wanted to live, he’d do whatever Lark told him to.

From the way Derek limply hung in his bonds, he was either unconscious or doing an excellent job of faking it. His former partner had fought hard from the look of him. A livid bruise stood out on one cheek and purple splotches decorated his ribs. A deep gash on his arm had dripped blood trails that were now dry. He would have to tend to Derek’s wounds.

Lark needed the man’s piloting skills. If he were going to kill Derek for believing those liars from the IIB when they told him Lark had turned traitor, he intended to do so with his own hands after they got off planet. Fortunately, he kept a fully stocked first aid cabinet in his quarters. He just needed to find a way to get Derek there without making his men suspicious .

Nothing but fear and the promise of a huge payoff on their next deal kept Lark’s men from turning on him, in the same way he’d turned on the man he had been sent here to investigate. He pulled a long thin blade from his boot and pretended to examine the sharp edge as he circled Derek. He had to suppress a gasp when he saw the maze of scars criss-crossing Derek’s back. If he let himself think about how Derek got those, he might be sick right here.

“Leave us,” he said to the guards who were eyeing the prisoner in obvious hope of getting some play time.

Buy it at Silver Publishing

Buy it at Amazon

Book 2, Deceived, is available for pre-order and releases September 8.

 

Hoofin’ it to the Altar is available now!

Bound on over to Changeling Press and grab my latest contribution to the Protect and Serve series!

Hoofin’ it to the Altar

Deer shifter Jason Fleetfoot and vampire detective Drew Danvers have been together for a year. When Drew proposes, Jason is thrilled but shocked. Vampires aren’t usually the marrying kind, even the few who side with the good guys. Drew wants to elope, but Jason’s sister, Natalie, insists on planning an elaborate ceremony.

As Jason and Drew fend off well-meaning friends and family, a far more serious problem threatens their union. A vampire killer is on the loose. He subdues his undead victims without a struggle and finishes them off by literally curdling their blood. Drew has no idea what could kill a vampire so easily, and everyone suspects he’s next on the killer’s list. Can he stop the killer in time for “Dearly Beloved, we are gathered here today…” to start his wedding instead of his funeral?

Excerpt:

I’m Jason Fleetfoot, deer shifter and crime lab tech. I might look like a badass, but lately, I’m embarrassingly domesticated. I’m living like an old married man with a vampire. That’s right, a vampire. Me and my man have settled down into a predictable routine just like upstanding normal folks. A few months ago, I moved in with him and volunteered to keep working the night shift at the crime lab while he’s out chasing down bad guys. He’s a big, bad detective. Yeah, a vamp who works for the good guys. We come home from work, have dinner, well, I do. He has me for dinner. Then we watch a little TV and tuck in for the night or, rather, day.

What about the sex? Don’t look shocked, I know you’re interested. The sex is anything but predictable. Drew is hotter than a solar flare. We’re both stronger and faster than humans and willing to try almost anything. I’ll just say we’ve damn near brought the building down a few times and leave it at that.

I can barely believe we’ve been together for a whole year. Before I met Drew, if I fucked the same guy for a week, I started to get antsy, but now I’m in love. Yeah, I admit it. This badass stag shifter is all mushy-gushy, I-don’t-ever-want-to-leave-you in love. And love makes you dumb. Dumb enough to think a vampire would care about celebrating our anniversary.

I made us reservations and kept them a secret until today. I surprised Drew with the plans when he woke up early this evening, and he seemed happy, if a little distracted. I thought he was into my idea even though we rarely go out unless we stop by Shift for a beer on our night off. Drew doesn’t eat, but he likes to watch me when I order something special. I love to eat, and sometimes I really get into my food. Drew says I look like I’m about to come from the deliciousness, and he likes that, a lot.

So I got all dressed up, well, all dressed up for me, which means a collared shirt and a coat with my jeans, and planned to have a nice, civilized evening. But Drew went to do some errands after he got up, and now he’s a half hour late meeting me at the restaurant, and he’s not answering his phone.

Now, my anger turns to fear as I think how unlike him it is to be late. He just closed a case involving a werewolf pack that was kidnapping young women. Supposedly, the guilty parties were in jail, but what if they’ve found a way to get retribution? And they are far from the only people who’d like to see Drew permanently dead. Thanks to the news coverage of his kidnapping and forced Change at the hands of a vampire crime boss and the city’s unlikely decision to let him keep his job with the police force, Drew is fairly well known. There are plenty of people out there, human and vampire, who don’t like the idea of his kind fighting crime.

I grab my phone to call Drew again, but as I do, he walks through the door. He looks amazing. He’s wearing gray dress pants and a pale blue shirt that strains against his broad shoulders. He even has on a tie, blood red, of course. He must have bought the outfit while he was out, because I’ve never seen any of those clothes in his closet. He smiles at the hostess, the smile that gets most female witnesses to tell him anything he needs to hear. It used to make me jealous when he looked at others like that, but now I just smile and think how lucky I am to have him all to myself.

He catches sight of me, and his smile widens. My heart pounds. Even after a year, I still get excited when he looks at me like that. I’m so relieved he’s not decapitated in an alley somewhere that I can’t stay angry about his tardiness. He’s too damn charming in his suave clothes.

When the hostess walks away, Drew’s hot gaze pins me in place. “I’m sorry I’m so late,” he says.

“You didn’t answer your phone.” Shit! I sound like a nagging wife.

“First time you called I was paying for something. Then I rushed home to change. I thought it would be better to get here as fast as I could rather than wasting time calling you.”

Logical, but annoying. “I was worried.”

Drew frowns. “Why?”

“Um, you’re a detective, remember? You chase bad guys who’d be happy to see you dead, and you just put some savage pieces of shit in jail.”

“Oh yeah.” He looks thoughtful.

“What’s wrong? Did something happen tonight?”

He shakes his head. “No, I’m just distracted.”

“Did Seth call? Did you get a new case?” Seth is Drew’s lieutenant and also a good friend.

“No. I’m fine, really.”

Our server approaches the table. Drew looks relieved that I can’t question him any more.

We place our drink orders, and I try to engage Drew in conversation, but he’s doing his cold, distant vamp routine, and it’s pissing me off. “If you didn’t want to go out, why the fuck didn’t you say so?”

The server times his reappearance perfectly to save Drew again. I wonder if he heard me, but I’m too angry, and I don’t care about making a spectacle. Why was Drew acting like he’d rather be anywhere else?

I order, and the server turns to Drew expectantly. Drew gives him a smile that shows fang. His eyes widen, and he steps back. “So that will be all then, gentlemen?” He nearly chokes on the last word.

“Yes, thank you,” I say. I glare at Drew. “What was that for?”

“I don’t want him hovering.”

“You don’t want him flirting.”

He shrugs.

Drew attracts men and women without trying, whether it’s because he’s a vampire or just his natural magnetism. He usually finds several admirers wherever we go, but he’s more likely to scare them away than flirt back.

He smiles at me, and instead of looking disinterested like he did before, he looks turned on. What game is he playing?

Guest Author: Angel Martinez

I’m welcome the lovely Angel Martinez to my humble abode this morning! Grab some coffee or tea and settle in to learn more about her upcoming release, Sub Zero

Those Creeping Fingers of Memory…

When I was little, televisions were pieces of furniture. They often came in wood and cloth consoles, reception was through antennae, and one changed the channel by (gasp!) getting up and turning the knob. There were perhaps four of them, or possibly five, depending on the signal.

The arrival of cable in our house was a cause of much excitement (on our part) and trepidation (on my mother’s.) Suddenly, there were several more choices. Cartoons! Movies! Really bad commercials! With this sudden invasion came Channel 17 out of Philadelphia and, on Saturdays, Wee Willy Webber’s show. For those of you not from back East, Mr. Webber was a radio personality and then TV host of several shows on many channels over the years – one of those voices that was soothing, friendly and entertaining all at once. The show in question was a Saturday Matinee sort of affair where he showed old Science Fiction and Horror movies – a little intro, sometimes a little serial short (Flash Gordon, Buck Rogers) – and then the MOVIE!

A friend recently asked me if classic SF movies had influenced my writing. Yes and no. Obviously, I’m interested in more advanced science than 1950’s cinema, but the fact is that these movies from childhood seeped into my brain. I know that. The images, the feel, the atmosphere all stayed with me, consciously or not. Sure I loved classic horror. The Boris Karloff Frankenstein, (“It’s alive!”) Bela Lugosi’s Dracula, The Mummy, The Invisible Man, adored them all. But I loved best the weeks when Mr. Webber’s movies were about space and radiation, mutants and time travel.

Early influences are inescapable, whether we acknowledge them or not. Some of the underground scenes from my novel, Gravitational Attraction, owe a great deal to Forbidden Planet, to that sense of awe and wonder I felt at finally seeing the alien underground installation. Visions of cityscapes in Vassily the Beautiful have much to do with those early futuristic city skylines in Metropolis and The Shape of Things to Come.

And my need to return to cold landscapes, in the case of my latest, Sub Zero, even Arctic? Ah, there are echoes of The Thing there, not so much the terror of it but the isolation and eerie beauty.

I don’t consciously channel those old movies I love so dearly, but they’re in there, the images curled around my gray matter. And it wonderful.

 

Sub Zero

M/M Science Fiction Mystery

Launching 8/19 at Amber Allure!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Always send the right man for the job – even if he’s been dead for a hundred years.

Blurb:

Major Aren Dalsgaard’s newest assignment is to investigate a series of murders on the frigid planet, Drass, where relations between Treaty settlers and natives have deteriorated. A linguist and trained xenologist, Aren should be ideal for the assignment. The problem? It’s where he died, a century ago.

Sent by his family to the chigyel city, Nyachung faces a murder charge, racial prejudice, and a man who claims to be a hero from his grandmother’s generation. The man could be crazy or lying. But the sincerity in those spring-green eyes disturbs Nyachung more than anything else in the foreigners’ city.

 

Excerpt:

Thuds and muffled screams came from the lab up ahead, only serving to underscore the sergeant’s anxiety. Aren bulled through the door and skidded to a stop, speechless in shock. Nyachung lay on his back on the gurney, stripped to the waist, arms stretched out to either side and strapped down to extensions. The staff had shoved something soft between his teeth, either to keep him from breaking them or to keep him from screaming too loud, and they had electro-pulse leads attached to his forearms, directly over the venom sacs and spur pads. The shocks from the hookup came in pairs, the first forcibly extending his arm spurs and the second zapping the sac in an attempt to force the venom out.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Aren bellowed.

The tech stared at him, nonplussed. “Getting your venom sample, sir.”

“By torturing him?”

“It’s standard operating procedure, sir.”

“Since when is physical abuse standard procedure in any branch of the service?”

Sergeant Wickstrom gave him a little nudge. “Sir, use of force in the obtaining of information or cooperation is up to the discretion of the facility commander. It’s in the manuals.”

“In the—you must be joking.”

“Afraid not, sir.”

Aren rubbed both hands over his face. “God. Barbaric century.” Then he stalked over to the tech. “Unhook him, please. Not only is this inefficient, it’s inhumane. Do you have any idea, Corporal, how sensitive those venom sacs are?”

The hapless corporal gulped a breath. “I…don’t know, sir.”

“Imagine hooking one of those damn things up to your testicles and then shoving another up your urethra. That should give you some idea.”

“Yes, sir.”

The poor tech had turned green. Aren patted his shoulder, not wanting the boy to pass out. “Just turn it off. Unhook him. There’s a better way to do this. Several, actually. You could have just asked him for a sample, but now that he’s a shuddering mess, he’ll need some help.”

While the tech unhooked the leads, Aren went around the gurney undoing straps.

“Sir, you know he’s a murder suspect, right?”

“Oh, yes. Terribly dangerous, I’m sure. Maybe you should stand back. Safety first.” Aren perched hipshot on the edge of the gurney and gathered Nyachung into his arms as he switched to dangpo. “Are you with me, little one?”

“Why are they doing this?” Nyachung tangled both fists in the front of Aren’s jacket, shaking uncontrollably.

“Sh, sh, they want some of your venom. To compare it to the venom in the woman you found. If it’s not your venom, then you didn’t kill her.”

A hoarse sound, more sob than laugh came from the little tale-singer. “They could have said so.”

“Yes, they should have.” Aren held up a collection tube. “Can you do it on your own?”

Nyachung held out one shaking arm, well away from Aren. He curled his fingers, forearm muscles contracting. “I can’t,” he gasped out.

Gently, Aren placed his hand under Nyachung’s elbow. “Will you let me help you? I know we’re strangers and this is in front of others, but it would be better than their way.”

Black eyes gazed up at him, wet with unshed tears of pain. “All right. Do you… Have you done this?”

“I have.” Aren massaged his thumb over the tense forearm muscles a moment. Then he reached around, encircling Nyachung with his arms, partially hiding him from prying eyes. He pressed gently on the pad with his thumb, pushing the arm spur out as one would a cat’s claw. Keeping the pressure constant and the collection tube held over the spur in two fingers, he turned his attention to the venom sac. Besides the obvious places, this was the most sensitive spot on a dangpo male’s body.

He caressed the tender, abused skin, barely holding back the urge to curl forward and kiss the spot where the electro-pulse had been. Nyachung made a sweet, whimpering sound that shot straight to his balls and Aren hoped he was holding the stone-faced expression he was trying for. He began to massage the sac, his thumb describing slow, gentle circles. Nyachung twitched in his arms.

“Easy, little one, easy. As soon as you’re able.”

With a soft cry, Nyachung hid his face against Aren’s chest, his body shuddering with pain as he released his venom. His poor sacs would most likely be tender for days but he had managed enough to fill the tube…