Christa Wick's Blog, page 9

Ch-changes

Taking a break from writing Alpha Curves (shh...quiet down...you'll get to run your hands all over Cade soon!) and doing some cover change ups. So here's an opportunity to sound off on whether you prefer flesh covers or if you don't think it plays into which books you look at as long as the cover isn't a trainwreck!




 
AND - COMING SOON!   

Vegas Curves (Masters of the Game BBW Erotic Romance)

Store links: Amazon US - UK - Canada | BN US - UK | Kobo | Apple | All Romance Ebooks | Smashwords
Big Girl Lesson #1 - The House always wins... 
When a violent criminal kidnaps her younger sister, reformed con artist and card sharp Marie Lafayette must once again put on her game face and take a seat at the table.
Busted by casino owner Luke Masters when her soft lips and lush curves catch his eye, Marie has one last chance to save her sister and erase the past -- if she surrenders to his every passion for thirty days.

**********
This 32,400+ word BBW erotic romance features a billionaire casino owner with a drawer full of toys meant to teach a plus-size cheat with a heart of gold that there are no rules when it comes to love.
 Excerpt from inside
 Masters runs a hand up my skirt, words hammering my senses between the strokes of his tongue and the small bites he takes at the corner of my mouth. "Baby, I can't think straight when your lips quiver."  
He is under my skirt now. A finger traces the edge of my underwear before slipping beneath the thin elastic band. I am wet, responsive in a way that shames me. He buries his face against my throat and groans. He sucks at my flesh while his finger ghost walks against my clit.  
My body no longer cares if he is faking it. I arch against him. My hips lift as heavy contractions roll through my pussy and my breath breaks down into labored panting.  
With my bottom off the cushion, he reaches up, secures the panties' waistband and tugs them down my hips. Cupping my mound, he squeezes even as he continues to interrogate me. "Tell me about Solandro."
Fuck -- seriously?
Masters presses two fingertips against the spine of my clit and massages slow circles. "Tell me, baby."
Baby, not Marie. He claims me as his with that one word and, for the moment, I am.

Spanked by the Vet - Curve Trouble 1

Store links: Amazon US - CA - UK | Nook US - UK | Smashwords | All Romance Ebooks  (No Kobo until sometime before the next equinox)

Instead of thanking her long-time crush Cayce Gerard after he rescues her from a truly disastrous date, Ashley Phillips wants to read him the riot act. When the gentle veterinarian uncharacteristically turns her over his knee and starts spanking her spoiled butt, Ashley's protests turn to moans and her secret is finally out.

What will the good doctor do?

*****
This 6,600+ Wicked Curve title is for readers who enjoy two people moving from friends to lovers, a hard smack or ten across a woman's bare bottom, and a cock as big as Texas. (Can I get a Hell Yeah?)
*****

My heart lurched then thumped wildly at the knowledge Cayce was touching me. Not just anywhere, but down there. He had kissed my fingers, sucked at them. This wasn't a mere smack or four on the ass anymore. If Cayce didn't stop immediately, his actions were a prelude to sex. The kind of sex I'd been dreaming about for a good many years. The kind of sex I had to pretend I was having with Howard so I could climax.

"We...we need to talk about this." Lifting my head, I looked across the swell of my clenched stomach and saw Cayce Gerard dumbstruck for the first time in all the years I've known him.

His expression lasted half a heartbeat before he gave a dismissive shake of his head and refocused his gaze on my throbbing wet pussy. "Love, a hungry man doesn't talk about eating -- he eats."

I had less than a second to register Cayce calling me love before his mouth descended onto my sex. His lips and tongue catching and sucking at my clit, he explored the perimeter of my pulsing cunt with his thumb. Each contraction found me wetter and tighter than the last. I sucked a ragged breath in -- sucked and sucked and sucked to keep from exploding all over Cayce in a creamy mess of excitement.

The air released with a sharp cry.

Cayce froze then he lifted his head. His gray gaze darkened as tears slid down my cheeks. Hastily, he lowered my skirt then surged up my body.

"Ash, love. Shh." He smoothed his hand along my arm, trying to calm me. "I'm sorry, baby. I stopped. I won't touch you again--"

**********
Readers of Spanked by Brother - this is a slightly (from 5000 to 6600 words) expanded, non-taboo mirror, with no additional plot developments (just longer, steamier sexing - mwahahaha).

Pet 3 available now

Buy links: Amazon US & UK & Canada | Kobo | Nook US & UK | Smashwords | Apple | All Romance Ebooks

*********
Length 18,400
*********

The final installment in the Pet series!

Continue reading for a wicked excerpt!

Alone, Griffin Montgomery paced the wide length of his library. He had kept the room locked during Katelyn's stay. More than any other place in the world, the house's library was his sanctuary and had been from early childhood. Since his mother's death, the room's only other visitors were Philip and Claire and, once quarterly, a cleaning staff to dust and polish under his housekeeper's watchful eye. 

Now, standing in front of an easel with a table of paints and brushes at his side, Griffin contemplated the unthinkable -- bringing Katelyn to the room. More unthinkable, he wanted to paint her. 

His gaze scanned the room. His landscapes filled the spaces between floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. Above the fireplace, a cleaner section of wall indicated the recent removal of another painting. His mouth twitched and his brows drew together in a scowl.

Leaving the painting out on display was not an option. With Katelyn's quick mind, she would have recognized its place of importance and that the painting was by Griffin's own hand. Of course, as observant as she was quick, she'd notice the blank spot, too.

He closed his eyes, picturing the object of the painting. Not a woman or a man but a dog. A sleeping bloodhound, to be exact, sitting on a thick fur rug with a quiet evening's fire warming his backside. Maudlin, yes, but Jupiter and his handler had found a nearly unconscious Griffin lost in the woods on a winter night when he was thirteen. Undoubtedly experiencing guilt over why her son had run off into the estate's woods, Griffin's mother had convinced the dog's owner to part with him for a very large fee.

Jupiter was seven at the time, old for a bloodhound. He somehow survived another four years before age and bloat finally took him. Griffin had felt more grief at Jupiter's passing than he did in later years when his father and then his mother died. Hell, at the end of their lives, he felt no love for his parents, but the painting of Jupiter still had the power to squeeze at Griffin's chest.

That was exactly why Katelyn couldn't see it. Her beautiful hazel eyes would go all soft and knowing and she would ask him about the dog. Then her questions would venture into other areas of his past. As private and stoic as Katelyn was, the woman wanted to get personal with him. She wanted to know him beyond his cock and money.

Not acceptable.

His scowl deepening, Griffin wrapped his hands around the edges of the canvas he had finished priming a few hours before. He could not allow Katelyn into the library. Nor could he continue playing with her, not with her injured ankle and the blow to her head from when she fell on the jogging path. Teasing and loving her in bed through the night had been low risk -- for Katelyn. 

He, on the other hand, had been infected with an unfamiliar weakness. Every step away from her that morning had clawed at his stomach and tried to hook and drag him back into the bedroom. Fuck if he hadn't wanted to cuddle on the bed with Katelyn tucked in the circle of his arms, his nose pressed against her thick, fragrant tresses and his fingers leisurely stroking her yielding flesh.

Releasing the canvas, Griffin rubbed roughly at his cheek. Giving her his bedroom to use had been his first mistake. He knew already that, when Katelyn left, he would have to switch rooms, maybe even throw out the bed and set fire to the sheets that had encased her willing body.

At Griffin's command, Philip and Claire would quietly erase evidence of Katelyn's stay. Not once would they comment on his display of weakness, but they would know one of Griffin's pets had finally burrowed under his skin.

Hell, they likely knew already -- he had brought her to stay at the estate overnight. His past lovers only came for business events -- formal balls, the company's egg hunts at Easter and the executive Christmas party. The women never stayed the night. If he fucked them after the guests were gone, it was bent over his desk, the grand piano or the billiard table and strapped down as often as not. Before his cum had time to dry on their thighs, he packed them in the back of the limo for Philip to chauffer home. 

Striding past the easel, Griffin dropped heavily onto the divan he had re-positioned for Katelyn's sitting. He pressed one of the silk pillows across his face to block the room even as his mind continued to race its perimeter in search of an escape. 

He couldn't paint Katelyn and he couldn't play with her as planned. He needed to send her home with a check for the agreed upon sum and return to the work he had neglected the last few days or rent a very experienced submissive to relieve his frustrations. 

He snorted and pulled the pillow tighter to his face. He would need to rent an entire dungeon of submissives to fuck Katelyn out of his system. With a dozen women plugged, gagged, bound and blindfolded, he might find one he could look at for an hour or two without seeing Katelyn's face.

Dragging himself into a sitting position, Griffin tossed the pillow aside and fished his cellphone from his pocket. He would call Martinique, a female dominant and half-owner of his favorite club. She would round up some lovelies, get their signatures, pay them and have them blindfolded and lubed before his arrival. While he played in one of the club's private dungeons, he would have Philip return Katelyn home. 

He would never lay eyes on her again, even if he had to pay her to move to another part of the world.

Half-finished dialing Martinique's number, a timid knock at the library door stopped him cold. Only two people knocked on that door -- Philip and Claire. Sometimes more like twins than husband and wife, they had the same crisp triple-knock no matter what reception they expected when he answered.

The knock came again, a little bolder and more confident. 

He growled inwardly. It could only be Katelyn. She would have used her cane to walk the distance from the far side of the house, but how did she know where to find him?

He considered waiting, frozen and mute, for her to give up. She couldn't stand there forever, her hurt ankle wouldn't allow it. But how long would she wait?

Knowing deep down she would remain outside his door until she further damaged her foot, he rose with a sigh. He unlocked the door and opened it enough to see her but with no space for Katelyn to step inside. His gaze passed over her body, starting with the careful position of her right foot. From there, his eyes moved up. A silk robe colored a light cream covered her body. Lustrous brown hair cascaded down one shoulder. The long, likely painful, walk had flushed her cheeks and lips a dark red while leaving the rest of her skin pale and bloodless.

Seeing the subtle strain on her face, he wanted to scoop her up and carry her to the divan. That would make matters far worse than they already were. Instead, he glared at her, his voice taking on an imperious tone. "Why are you here?"

Confusion wrinkled Katelyn's brow. Her gaze tracked left, down the long corridor that led toward the kitchen then she caught herself. Griffin refrained from looking down the hall. Someone had brought Katelyn to his door. The cameras would tell him later just who had been so bold, but he would bet half his fortune on Claire having done so. With no children of her own, she thought Griffin needed mothering. 

He closed his eyes for a few calming seconds. He didn't need Claire's good intentions. He needed to be alone, without any meddling staff and certainly without the soft, pliant beauty staring expectantly at him with soulful, aching eyes.

"I did not summon you, if that is what you were told."

A quiver trembled and died across her bottom lip in the space of a second. She lifted her chin then shrugged. 

Unable to read the message buried in that shrug, his hand tightened on the door knob. "I can't exactly play with you in this state like I bargained for, can I?" 

Another quiver flashed and was gone. Katelyn gave a slight shake of her head then her face went dead. "You're right. I can't satisfy the contract if injured. I'll collect my clothes and leave."

"No." He caught himself before his voice turned desperate. Ten seconds ago, he wanted her out of his house, now he wanted his arms around her, her face tilted up to receive his kisses. He needed time to decide which impulse would lead him to the right choice. "You can't walk that far so soon and I'm in no mood to carry you."

Stepping back, he opened the door and gestured her inside. "You will rest then return to your room."

She started to shake her head but then he saw her gaze freeze. He knew by the angle that she had spotted the blank canvas. Without remarking on it or the paints readied and waiting, she moved into the room and took a seat on the divan. Placing the cane on the floor, she laid back and laced her fingers low across her stomach.

Seeing the shake that ran through Katelyn's hands, Griffin shut the door and locked it. He would wait a little longer before sending her away. Perhaps he would still call Martinique and arrange for a late evening indulgence, burning away his weakness for Katelyn with the pliant mouths and cunts of paid lovers. Maybe that would clear his head.

Yes. Deciding the matter, he nodded as he crossed the room to stand by the divan. He would fuck Martinique's comely subs until his dick was too worn to become rigid at the thought or sight of the beautiful pet trembling before him in his library. 

Intent on not looking at Katelyn's face, Griffin's gaze drifted down her body. Her nervous hands clutched the vertical hems of the robe. He had left her in the bathroom that morning with instructions and supplies for removing the downy fur of her sex. She would have obeyed, which meant her mound was hairless beneath the robe.

No reason he couldn't take a brief look before he returned to his study and called Martinique. No reason at all.

**********
Haven't read Pet 1 & 2? Remedy that now so you'll be perfectly primed for Pet 3's December release! Need a billionaire fix in the interim? Check out the Billionaire Bad Boys Blog or grab a copy of Texas Curves, Curves for Her Billionaire Doms, Curve Contract or Black Gold.

Pet 3 Preview

Yes, wicked readers, there will most definitely be a Pet 3. As I finish polishing all its sweet bits, here is a tease from the opening scene. It reveals quite a lot of detail about Griffin and his developing feelings for his lovely pet, Katelyn.

*********

Alone, Griffin Montgomery paced the wide length of his library. He had kept the room locked during Katelyn's stay. More than any other place in the world, the house's library was his sanctuary and had been from early childhood. Since his mother's death, the room's only other visitors were Philip and Claire and, once quarterly, a cleaning staff to dust and polish under his housekeeper's watchful eye. 

Now, standing in front of an easel with a table of paints and brushes at his side, Griffin contemplated the unthinkable -- bringing Katelyn to the room. More unthinkable, he wanted to paint her. 

His gaze scanned the room. His landscapes filled the spaces between floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. Above the fireplace, a cleaner section of wall indicated the recent removal of another painting. His mouth twitched and his brows drew together in a scowl.

Leaving the painting out on display was not an option. With Katelyn's quick mind, she would have recognized its place of importance and that the painting was by Griffin's own hand. Of course, as observant as she was quick, she'd notice the blank spot, too.

He closed his eyes, picturing the object of the painting. Not a woman or a man but a dog. A sleeping bloodhound, to be exact, sitting on a thick fur rug with a quiet evening's fire warming his backside. Maudlin, yes, but Jupiter and his handler had found a nearly unconscious Griffin lost in the woods on a winter night when he was thirteen. Undoubtedly experiencing guilt over why her son had run off into the estate's woods, Griffin's mother had convinced the dog's owner to part with him for a very large fee.

Jupiter was seven at the time, old for a bloodhound. He somehow survived another four years before age and bloat finally took him. Griffin had felt more grief at Jupiter's passing than he did in later years when his father and then his mother died. Hell, at the end of their lives, he felt no love for his parents, but the painting of Jupiter still had the power to squeeze at Griffin's chest.

That was exactly why Katelyn couldn't see it. Her beautiful hazel eyes would go all soft and knowing and she would ask him about the dog. Then her questions would venture into other areas of his past. As private and stoic as Katelyn was, the woman wanted to get personal with him. She wanted to know him beyond his cock and money.

Not acceptable.

His scowl deepening, Griffin wrapped his hands around the edges of the canvas he had finished priming a few hours before. He could not allow Katelyn into the library. Nor could he continue playing with her, not with her injured ankle and the blow to her head from when she fell on the jogging path. Teasing and loving her in bed through the night had been low risk -- for Katelyn. 

He, on the other hand, had been infected with an unfamiliar weakness. Every step away from her that morning had clawed at his stomach and tried to hook and drag him back into the bedroom. Fuck if he hadn't wanted to cuddle on the bed with Katelyn tucked in the circle of his arms, his nose pressed against her thick, fragrant tresses and his fingers leisurely stroking her yielding flesh.

Releasing the canvas, Griffin rubbed roughly at his cheek. Giving her his bedroom to use had been his first mistake. He knew already that, when Katelyn left, he would have to switch rooms, maybe even throw out the bed and set fire to the sheets that had encased her willing body.

At Griffin's command, Philip and Claire would quietly erase evidence of Katelyn's stay. Not once would they comment on his display of weakness, but they would know one of Griffin's pets had finally burrowed under his skin.

Hell, they likely knew already -- he had brought her to stay at the estate overnight. His past lovers only came for business events -- formal balls, the company's egg hunts at Easter and the executive Christmas party. The women never stayed the night. If he fucked them after the guests were gone, it was bent over his desk, the grand piano or the billiard table and strapped down as often as not. Before his cum had time to dry on their thighs, he packed them in the back of the limo for Philip to chauffer home. 

Striding past the easel, Griffin dropped heavily onto the divan he had re-positioned for Katelyn's sitting. He pressed one of the silk pillows across his face to block the room even as his mind continued to race its perimeter in search of an escape. 

He couldn't paint Katelyn and he couldn't play with her as planned. He needed to send her home with a check for the agreed upon sum and return to the work he had neglected the last few days or rent a very experienced submissive to relieve his frustrations. 

He snorted and pulled the pillow tighter to his face. He would need to rent an entire dungeon of submissives to fuck Katelyn out of his system. With a dozen women plugged, gagged, bound and blindfolded, he might find one he could look at for an hour or two without seeing Katelyn's face.

Dragging himself into a sitting position, Griffin tossed the pillow aside and fished his cellphone from his pocket. He would call Martinique, a female dominant and half-owner of his favorite club. She would round up some lovelies, get their signatures, pay them and have them blindfolded and lubed before his arrival. While he played in one of the club's private dungeons, he would have Philip return Katelyn home. 

He would never lay eyes on her again, even if he had to pay her to move to another part of the world.

Half-finished dialing Martinique's number, a timid knock at the library door stopped him cold. Only two people knocked on that door -- Philip and Claire. Sometimes more like twins than husband and wife, they had the same crisp triple-knock no matter what reception they expected when he answered.

The knock came again, a little bolder and more confident. 

He growled inwardly. It could only be Katelyn. She would have used her cane to walk the distance from the far side of the house, but how did she know where to find him?

He considered waiting, frozen and mute, for her to give up. She couldn't stand there forever, her hurt ankle wouldn't allow it. But how long would she wait?

Knowing deep down she would remain outside his door until she further damaged her foot, he rose with a sigh. He unlocked the door and opened it enough to see her but with no space for Katelyn to step inside. His gaze passed over her body, starting with the careful position of her right foot. From there, his eyes moved up. A silk robe colored a light cream covered her body. Lustrous brown hair cascaded down one shoulder. The long, likely painful, walk had flushed her cheeks and lips a dark red while leaving the rest of her skin pale and bloodless.

Seeing the subtle strain on her face, he wanted to scoop her up and carry her to the divan. That would make matters far worse than they already were. Instead, he glared at her, his voice taking on an imperious tone. "Why are you here?"

Confusion wrinkled Katelyn's brow. Her gaze tracked left, down the long corridor that led toward the kitchen then she caught herself. Griffin refrained from looking down the hall. Someone had brought Katelyn to his door. The cameras would tell him later just who had been so bold, but he would bet half his fortune on Claire having done so. With no children of her own, she thought Griffin needed mothering. 

He closed his eyes for a few calming seconds. He didn't need Claire's good intentions. He needed to be alone, without any meddling staff and certainly without the soft, pliant beauty staring expectantly at him with soulful, aching eyes.

"I did not summon you, if that is what you were told."

A quiver trembled and died across her bottom lip in the space of a second. She lifted her chin then shrugged. 

Unable to read the message buried in that shrug, his hand tightened on the door knob. "I can't exactly play with you in this state like I bargained for, can I?" 

Another quiver flashed and was gone. Katelyn gave a slight shake of her head then her face went dead. "You're right. I can't satisfy the contract if injured. I'll collect my clothes and leave."

"No." He caught himself before his voice turned desperate. Ten seconds ago, he wanted her out of his house, now he wanted his arms around her, her face tilted up to receive his kisses. He needed time to decide which impulse would lead him to the right choice. "You can't walk that far so soon and I'm in no mood to carry you."

Stepping back, he opened the door and gestured her inside. "You will rest then return to your room."

She started to shake her head but then he saw her gaze freeze. He knew by the angle that she had spotted the blank canvas. Without remarking on it or the paints readied and waiting, she moved into the room and took a seat on the divan. Placing the cane on the floor, she laid back and laced her fingers low across her stomach.

Seeing the shake that ran through Katelyn's hands, Griffin shut the door and locked it. He would wait a little longer before sending her away. Perhaps he would still call Martinique and arrange for a late evening indulgence, burning away his weakness for Katelyn with the pliant mouths and cunts of paid lovers. Maybe that would clear his head.

Yes. Deciding the matter, he nodded as he crossed the room to stand by the divan. He would fuck Martinique's comely subs until his dick was too worn to become rigid at the thought or sight of the beautiful pet trembling before him in his library. 

Intent on not looking at Katelyn's face, Griffin's gaze drifted down her body. Her nervous hands clutched the vertical hems of the robe. He had left her in the bathroom that morning with instructions and supplies for removing the downy fur of her sex. She would have obeyed, which meant her mound was hairless beneath the robe.

No reason he couldn't take a brief look before he returned to his study and called Martinique. No reason at all.

**********
Haven't read Pet 1 & 2? Remedy that now so you'll be perfectly primed for Pet 3's December release! Need a billionaire fix in the interim? Check out the Billionaire Bad Boys Blog or grab a copy of Texas Curves, Curves for Her Billionaire Doms, Curve Contract or Black Gold.

Sexting Curves (BBW Erotic Romance)

Buy links: Amazon US & UK | BN US & UK | Kobo | Smashwords

Readers of Sexting Major Jones - see note at bottom

College senior Lillian "Lilliput" Richards really should move on from her side job of babysitting Stevie, the 10-year-old son of the exceedingly delicious Major Logan Jones. She's got a big girl's job to go with her big girl curves and has spent the summer racing between a downtown office building and the major's home.

Leaving Stevie isn't an option. She is very fond of her junior sidekick and, more importantly, the boy is missing his mom after the woman went AWOL to discover herself eight months ago. Oh, and there's another reason for staying -- Lily has been working a huge crush on the major for years. One-sided, of course. Not only is the major newly divorced and treats Lily like she's part of the family, but the man is hot enough to melt glaciers. There's not a thing a man like Logan could want with his plump, young and seemingly sedate babysitter.

At least that's what Lily thinks until a sexting skirmish with her best friend goes awry and brings the major rushing home. With all her dirty little fantasies about Logan and pictures of her lush body in the phone he's now holding, is Logan there to fuck or fire her?

EXCERPT

"I think I'm going to puke."

"No, you're not." The words emerged softly but were clearly a command. Logan rubbed his palm up and down my back. "Take slow, deep breaths."

His voice cracked at the end and his hand stopped rubbing to rest flat against the lower back of my neck. The warmth of his touch seeped into my skin, relaxing the muscles in my neck and shoulders.

He shifted a little as his free hand dipped into his ACU pocket and retrieved my phone. I thought for a second he would finally give the phone back. I lifted my head just enough from between my legs to look at him.

"Not there yet, baby. Concentrate on breathing." He lightly pressed my head down. His hand returned to the same spot at the base of my neck, his thumb lightly stroking the curve between my throat and shoulder.

The clicks coming from the phone told me he was navigating its menu. Every few clicks, the thumb stroking my flesh stopped or slowed. Trying hard not to shake, I mentally inventoried the phone's contents. Dozens of texts to Emy graphically detailed all the things I wanted to do to Logan and have done to me. Plus there were half a dozen pictures, just as graphic, that I hadn't deleted.

When audio started playing, I remembered there was more than just text and photos. There was a video at least thirty seconds long showing the vibrator in me, my hips rocking, clit pinched between my fingertips as I moaned Logan's name.

I turned my head just enough that I could watch his face. He chewed at his lower lip, the right nostril flaring as his brow arched high. He flinched the slightest bit when, given the sounds coming from the speaker, I came. He cleared his throat, the noise small and muted, and then he turned the phone off and shoved it back in his pocket.

He had stopped stroking me while the video played. Now the palm of his hand massaged its way up my neck. His fingers spread out then threaded through my hair in a tight grip. Gently yet forcefully, he pulled me up until my back was against the cushion, his other hand curled against my lower stomach to keep me trapped.

Gaze locked on my face, Logan smoothed his fingers down to the hem of my skirt. He lifted its edge and rubbed the flat of his nails softly along my inner thigh, front to back. The hand cradling my head slid closer to my face. His fingers caressed a slow, tight circle behind my ear lobe.
…
"Baby, all those things you texted about..." He paused and his teeth grazed my jaw. "I'm going to do every last one of them tonight."


**********
This 21,000+ word Curve title is a BBW mirror of the 6900+ word Sexting Major Jones. SMJ will be extended (no ETA) with non-BBW dynamics and SMJ's store file will be updated. Gmail wickedchrista for an SMJ only update notice.

Curves for Her Billionaire Doms

Buy links: Amazon US and UK, Barnes and Noble US and UK, Kobo, Smashwords Plus-size beauty Casey Mack has gone from barely making ends meet to executive assistant at the hottest growth company of the last decade. The only problem is that she serves all three of the top executives, each as delicious and demanding as the other and all intent on having Casey in their lives, and their bed, forever. With the company on the verge of a research breakthrough that could change the world, their enemies will stop at nothing to take them down, including targeting the one woman who means everything to them.
Continue reading for a very wicked excerpt!
"Guys, whatever this is, it's not happening."
I spoke without acting. Dread and a sharp, sensual anticipation froze me in place. Truth was, I badly wanted their hands on me. I just didn't want the consequences -- the tears, the accelerating disinterest, the eventual turning away.
As he had that afternoon, Aldon countered with his fingers. Ignoring my shocked gasp, he smoothed the tips under my hem and up my thighs, frowning when they brushed against the lower band of my underwear.
Angling his head, he addressed Daniel. "I thought we agreed, no panties?"
I gasped again, which caused Daniel to chuckle. His hand following after Aldon's, he reached the elastic band and gave it a little snap. "These are today's. I couldn't exactly strip them off before we discussed things with her, could I?"
Discussed things?
I sucked a little air in, my throat too tight to manage a full breath. Aldon nuzzled my neck at the same time, tightening every other muscle in my body. He ran one finger under the band, hooking and tugging as he kissed below my ear and whispered just loud enough that Daniel and I could hear.
"Pet, I'm certain today's panties are too wet to still be wearing. Your pussy was delightfully responsive and I couldn't fail to notice that wiggle of your sweet, lush ass the entire drive here. I bet your clit is all achy and you're soaking."
Daniel started on the other side of my throat, his hand mirroring Aldon's under my dress. "They will be too wet in a few seconds, regardless. Let us take them off, love."
Again with calling me love! These men didn't play fair. I pushed and wiggled, searching for a little distance and finding none. "You don't understand. I'm not like the women you're used to."
"We want you, pet -- not anyone else." Aldon dipped his head until his mouth hovered over the bodice of sheer georgette and the betraying pucker of my nipple. He breathed warm, moist air through the fabric, the sensation drawing the flesh tighter.
"I mean, they are experienced…" I hesitated, trying to get my brain to catch up with my mouth. If I told them the awful truth, would they realize their mistake and back off? "I haven't exactly…"
I drew a shuddering breath in. There was no way I could admit to these two, gorgeous males I'd lusted after for a year and a half that I was twenty-six and untouched. It would be like revealing a second head. I didn't want them to desire me; that would be too complicated and heartbreaking in the end. But I wanted them to like me and they wouldn't if they understood what an ugly little freak I am.
"Love, do you mean…" Daniel trailed off. His hand moved from my lower back to tangle in my hair, forcing me to look at him.
I closed my eyes. Nothing would make me open them, nothing.
Ooooh…
His other hand surfed back up my thigh, fingers easing between my labia to push just inside my pussy with a gentle and exploratory touch.
My eyes flew open.
The first thing I noticed was how beautiful Daniel is. He is handsome on his worst days, but his pupils had grown almost as large as the gray irises restraining them. His lips were parted and flushed with the same dark red spotting his high cheeks.
His fingers moved a fraction deeper and we both sucked in air at the same time.
He was touching it, that thin, membranous badge that told him exactly how undesirable I was to other men. His fingers retreated. He drew them toward his lips. I watched, mortified and mesmerized, as he sucked the tips into his mouth and his eyes drifted shut.

Texas Curves (Billionaire BBW Erotic Romance)

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Virginia Kelly is a real girl, with real curves and real problems. The last thing she needs is New Yorker Hawk McKinley pulling every trick in his billionaire playbook to get her into his bed. Certain Hawk wants nothing more than to make her a one-night stand or the double-wide butt of a cruel joke, Ginny is about to teach him no one messes with this West Texas girl.

From the moment Ginny rescues him on the side of the road on a hot day, Hawk can't get the woman out of his mind. With her southern sass and lush body perfect for sin, she's everything he wants and everything he intends to have.

In a game of North versus South, can two hearts win?



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This 17,600+ billionaire BBW erotic romance is for readers who love lush curves, conquering billionaires, and the twinkling hope of fireflies after a West Texas summer storm.
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The building chose that instant to lose power, the lights going with a sharp pop. I started to shake harder. Hawk wrapped his arms around me and tugged me to the floor. He had me sitting across one of his muscled thighs, his other leg over mine as the rest of his big body cradled me.

"Come on, Ginny, you've been through storms like this before."

That was exactly the problem. A storm like this had all but killed daddy and erased everything he'd worked so hard to build. What would this one do? I didn't think I could lose anything else -- anyone else -- and survive.

"Shh…" Hawk rubbed my arms then squeezed me more tightly. "This building is meant to stand up to an F4, sweet tea. That itty-bitty cloud is probably gone already. We're just going to sit awhile…shh"

As he spoke, his reassuring strokes along my arm slowly altered. They elongated, punctuated by little squeezes that were soon joined by kisses across my cheeks and against my quivering mouth.

"Wh-what are you doing?" My whole body was shaking by then, fear just one ingredient.

"Distracting you, sweet tea." He kissed me again, that time slow and long. His hand moved from my arm to cup my breast and thumb one thick nipple through my blouse. "Is it working?"

Too breathless to answer, I burrowed closer.

Billionaire's Pet 2 Live Now

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Having agreed to be billionaire Griffin Montgomery's house pet for a week, unemployed charity analyst Katelyn Willow has a new dilemma. Should she honor the contract or flee immediately? There are plenty of reasons to stay, not the least of which is an exquisitely handsome billionaire able to deliver bone-melting, mind-blowing orgasms. There's only one reason to leave.

Control.

Griffin holds the reins of power and he intends to use them -- around Katelyn's wrists and ankles, her body tits down and ass up as he dominates every inch of her flesh in an attempt to possess the one thing money can't buy.

Her heart.

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This 13,500+ word Wicked Domination is the second installment in a series for readers who crave a dominating billionaire who wants more from his naïve pet than her body and obedience. He wants her heart -- even if he hasn't quite figured that out for himself!
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Just want to know what's in the damn box from Pet 1? Read the full opening scene, below!

Alone in a dark room not her own, Katelyn Willow stared blindly at the black ceiling above her. For a few minutes or hours or days, she had slept. Not that it could have really been days. Griffin Montgomery, the billionaire with whom she had signed the strangest of contracts just that morning, would not have let her sleep that long. So hours had passed, her body too rested for any shorter period.

Actually knowing the time would have been a simple matter. She need only turn on the lamp next to the bed to see the small brass clock that kept the time in Griffin's world. To do that, however, she would need to move the present Griffin had brought her that night before he fucked her senseless.
Her thighs flexed at the thought of what he had done to her. He had spanked her for starters and not just her ass. At least one smack had landed against the pussy now growing swollen and wet with the memory of his rough treatment. He had spanked her, fingered her aching cunt and then fucked his cock deep into her until every nerve ending fired in ecstasy.

In the dark, Katelyn licked her lips, a quiver running the length of her body to draw her nipples into a pout and pull her clit up tight. She moaned. The mere thought of the man who had so thoroughly dominated her will that day triggered small contractions deep inside. Feeling them intensify and quicken, she sucked a ragged breath in.

Her hand smoothed down her flat stomach, tempted to touch the throbbing spot between her legs. Knowing at least two cameras monitored the room, she wondered whether he had special lenses that could see in the dark. Rich beyond any meaningful measure, he could have easily done that and more. Maybe the room was wired for sound with microphones so sensitive they could hear her muffled groans or the wet slap of a finger between her swollen labia.

Her body arced involuntarily at the thought of him watching her in the dark bedroom, listening and waiting until she was at the edge before he opened the door and punished her again. Another quiver rolled through Katelyn. Her pussy contracted, every muscle squeezing until a thin cream pushed from between her tightly pressed lower lips to coat the smooth strands of pubic hair. Her hips moved in a shallow grind as her breathing quickened.

No question about it, wanting him like she did was proof enough that she'd gone completely insane. By surrendering her power in exchange for intense pleasure, she'd already broken a longstanding promise to herself. Worse, she was following down her mother's path.

Madeline Willow -- Mad Maddy to everyone but Katelyn in the last years before she died.

Even the grim specter of her mother wasn't enough to drive Griffin from Katelyn's thoughts. Rolling onto her stomach, she slowly drew another deep breath in before pressing her face into the feathered pillow. When she could no longer hold the air inside her lungs, she lifted her head, released it and slowly sucked more in. It was an old trick, one that her runner's body should have responded to with a release of endorphins to reduce her stress and lull her back to sleep.

No effect -- she still wanted Griffin in the room with her, his hands on her hips as he positioned himself behind her raised ass. She could picture him from their last session, seeing him as she had when she looked back over her shoulder. His cock had thickly slid in and out of her, stretching and filling her until she felt sated and complete. Echoes of that fullness teased her pussy, her muscles knotting in need.

With a growl, she flipped onto her back, her arm flinging out and smacking the box from Alstrom's. She yanked her hand back and folded her arm across her breasts. The retreat came too late. Thoughts of the box and the mysterious gift it contained replaced the images of Griffin possessing her body.

Silent and unseen in the dark, the box mocked Katelyn until she eased onto her side and faced it. Even with the light off, she could picture it perfectly. The gold fabric wrapping, the auction house's mark stamped in gold ink. Griffin had ordered her to wait until he left before she opened it, warning her that the contents would decide things for her one way or the other. Either she would truly commit to staying the length of the contract she'd signed or she would break it and flee.

Griffin was a stranger to her. As brilliant and adept at judging people as he might be, he couldn't know whether something would have that kind of power over her when she could think of nothing that would. But then she wouldn't have believed any man could take her as he had, teasing and manipulating her body until she begged him to let her come.

Her cheeks heated in shame. No overstatement, she really had begged him, her muscles squeezing and rolling the length of his magnificent cock as, near tears, she promised she would be a good little pet for him if he would let her come.

"Fuck it!" Swearing at the empty room, Katelyn sat up. She reached for the switch on the lamp, her hand dipping at the last second to lift the lid from the box and explore the gift in the dark. Carefully, she placed the top on the floor between the bed and the nightstand. Returning to the box, she traced its edges before her fingers brushed lightly across a surface of velvety packing tissue. She removed the layer of paper and brushed her hands over the contents.

Something leathery or latex, she couldn't tell. Whether latex or new leather, it had no business being in an Alstrom's box. They auctioned only high end antiques. Frowning, she removed the present and let it rest across her lap. The gift consisted of nothing more than thin straps and metal rings.
Unaided by any light, she tried to figure out its shape and purpose. She counted nine metal rings, their diameter that of a quarter. Her brows lifted in sudden realization as to what it might be. With a little snort, she turned the light on and confirmed her suspicions.

Kinky -- but in no way persuasive.

Griffin had bought her a barely there one-piece leather harness. Still naked, she stood and held it against her body in front of the mirror. It took a few seconds and experimental positions, but she figured out how the outfit was intended to fit.

Putting it on, she looked at her body in the mirror. A triangle of dark brown leather framed each breast. The thickest strap ran between her legs but the slit in its center ensured her pussy remained easily accessed.

Her dripping wet pussy judging by the glistening thighs and the small beads of moisture dotting the ends of her exposed hair.

Still staring at her reflection, she reassessed the gift. While not capable of causing her to break the contract, she wondered if the present could ensure she stayed. The way her body responded to wearing the outfit -- the hard and swollen nipples and tensing pussy -- it flipped switches she hadn't known she had. Her fingers twitched with the need to explore the slitted panel along her crotch, to see how much pressure it took to part the leather and explore her pussy.

Not her pussy, Katelyn reminded herself. Griffin's pussy -- for the week at least. If she was going to stay, she couldn't touch it without his permission, couldn't come without his permission. With a soft groan, she brought her hands up to tease her breasts and pluck at their painfully swollen tips in search of relief. Tugging the aching nipples, her hips jerked forward.

Fuck…oh, god...don't come...not allowed...mustn't

Snatching her hands away from her breasts, Katelyn released a shaky breath and turned to the nightstand. Bending down, she retrieved the lid, her movement slowing as she noticed how much tissue remained in the box.

Peeling back the layers of paper, Katelyn saw a hint of leather. Old leather but well oiled. Inset within a broad strap was a ruby, a golden grommet holding it in place. She pushed a little more tissue to the side, exposing the straps' edges and another precious stone.

She wrapped her hand around it and lifted. The leather wrist restraints triggered a six-month-old memory of the last auction at Alstrom's she had attended. It had been right before the charity she worked for exploded with a scandal of embezzled funds and coked up sex parties. Only the director had been involved in that shit storm, but his behavior had tainted everyone working for him. Of the dozen people she worked with, only two had landed somewhere else and only at an entry level position.

Lifting the restraints from the box, she slowly examined them. Their donation, along with several other items in the deceased collector's gift, had caused a bit of a stir. The auction at Alstrom's had been carried out through a closed circuit broadcast -- the bidders unknown to anyone but the auction house. Dan -- the bastardly director who had fucked everyone over -- had conned Katelyn into assisting the auction master by wearing the restraints, accurately guessing that seeing a pretty girl in them would fuel a bidding war. She'd been uncomfortable in front of the camera -- both because it had been so long since she'd had so many eyes focused on her (no matter how hidden the audience) and because of the restraints around her wrists and the auction master's questions that grew bolder as the bids rose higher.

She had managed to block the auction's details from her memory until now. Sensations she had denied taunted her, magnifying as her body resonated with fresher memories. Her on the bed, the impact of Griffin's palm still stinging her ass while his fingers explored her wet interior. Her promise to be a good pet and her mewling pleas that he allow her to come.

All along, he knew the restraints were in the box. Did he know that she had once worn them?
Suppressing the question, she continued to study his gift. A gold chain had replaced the brass one sold at auction. Opening one cuff, she saw that a new fabric lining had been stitched in. She flattened the leather, her gaze soaking in the calming champagne-colored silk as she slowly tracked the gold embroidered lettering at its center.

Katelyn.

Dropping the restraints, Katelyn staggered. Her leg brushed the side of the bed and she collapsed onto it, her heart refusing to slow or soften its rapid, pounding beat against the back of her sternum. He had to have known about the auction and her connection to them -- that was the source of their power to sway her completely on the contract. But when and how had he pieced together her identity with that of the girl standing at the auctioneer's podium? Less than two days had passed since she stood outside his private garden. Was it possible that he had found someone to stitch her name in the silk and attach the lining to the leather with such craftsmanship in so little time?

The bedroom door swung inward, the light from the hall silhouetting Griffin's long, lean frame. Black silk pajamas hugged his lower body, the rest of his flesh exposed. His gaze too intense for her, Katelyn closed her eyes but not before she saw him take a predatory lick of his top lip.

"Wondering when I had your name put in, pet?"

Killer Curves - BBW Erotic Romance and CSI

 | Amazon | BN | Kobo | Smashwords (just waiting for the files to go live) Twenty years ago, Dante Serrano disappeared right before he was supposed to marry Olivia Miller. Now Olivia is a renowned crime scene investigator and Dante desperately needs her help as his son awaits trial for a murder he didn't commit.
To put her ex-lover in the past where he belongs, Liv needs to find the real killer and fast. She knows she can never trust Dante again, but being around him is waking long buried desires. She isn't the only one feeling the heat. Dante wants the plus-size beauty back -- in his arms and his bed. But if he tells Liv the truth of why he walked out, he just might lose his son.
********** This 42,000+ Wicked Suspense title features a renewed and erotic love story rolled into a race to save an innocent young man. Long on story, erotic romance readers will find plenty to satisfy their brains and senses. (A shorter, PG version was previously released under  a different title and the pen name of Ula James. Now hotter and thicker than ever before!)
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Trying to keep the growl out of my voice, I pointed at the card on the floor. “Craig’s an experienced investigator, former Masonville homicide detective. Pretty famous in town and he would be working the case anyway if I had said yes. So just take the damn card and go.”  
For a second, he didn't move, just stared at me as if I was a complete stranger. Then he stood. I foolishly thought he would relent, that he was standing to leave. Instead, he started to come around my desk.
I pushed my chair back, trying to escape his resolute approach. “He’s good, Dante.”
“I don’t want good, Olivia. I want the best. That's you -- always has been you.” The purr was back in his voice, full throated and rumbling.
I shook my head. I knew that look in his eyes. It frightened and excited me in a way I no longer thought possible.
"Don't come any closer," I pleaded.
His hand came down on the back of my chair to keep me from scooting further away. The other hand took possession of the arm rest so I couldn't slide out. He bent until his mouth was next to my ear, his breath falling warm against my skin. "Anything you want, Liv. If it's in my power, it's yours. Every last dollar, every piece of property."
I shook my head. He had nothing to offer. Once he had been everything I wanted, but I could never be that stupid, trusting girl again. Neither could he give me back all the intervening years or the lovers I might have been happy with if they had only come before him.
"Liv--"
Feeling the brush of his lips against my ear, I shook my head again, more violently. "I don't want your money, Serrano. And no matter what Diamond finds, you'll need every last dollar for the attorney to make the evidence matter in court."
He stopped arguing -- with words at least. His hand skimmed up my arm until his fingertips landed softly against my collar bone. He was betting on all my little pleasure points being the same. I closed my eyes and prayed they weren't.
"I said anything, Liv."