Submission Dance by Lori King
Out of Order by Bella Juarez
Surrender Her Inhibitions by Nicole Morgan
Make Believe Submissive by Daisy Philips
Under His Protection by Doris O’Connor
Broken by Julia Sykes
The Sub That Got Away by Amy J. Hawthorn
In His Hands by Raven McAllan
Indulge by Sherri Hayes
Submitting To Temptation by Jan Graham
Fire and Ice (An Excerpt from KNOTTED) by Juliet Braddock
Yes, Justin (Expanded Edition) by Michele Zurlo
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After fifteen years and two kids, the romance has fled from Trish’s marriage. When a friend introduces her to BDSM, she decides it’s what she wants—to have her body and soul mastered by a man who is completely focused on her. And that’s not her husband, whose life revolves around his career. Justin isn’t shocked when he finds out his wife is planning to cheat on him. They’ve been drifting apart for years, and he hates it. To save their marriage, he’ll carry out her kidnap fantasy, fulfill her desire to be dominated, and force her to confront the reasons she wanted to be there in the first place.
Enjoy this excerpt of Yes, Justin by Michele Zurlo
Steam wafted from the tub. She turned off the faucet and eased herself into the water. Cream coated the insides of her thighs, and sweat made other parts of her sticky. She wanted to be clean for Justin. Not since her wedding day had she so wanted to floor Justin with her appearance. She washed and ran fresh water. Her time was almost up. Maybe he would join her in the tub. Maybe he would bend her over the side and fuck her. Maybe he would tie her to the door. Desire flared, and her hand crept lower, caressing her thigh before finding her soft folds. She pressed her clit. The little nub was already hard and ready. “I told you not to do that.” Her eyes flew open. She hadn’t heard the door. Her body was submerged to her shoulders, meaning she could only feel the cool air he brought on her face. She smiled the most inviting smile she could muster. “I was just thinking about you.” He pressed his lips together. Instead of feeling defensive, as she usually felt whenever he displayed this expression, she felt the tingle of anticipation. “Stand up and let the water out.” She did as he commanded, flipping the lever for the drain with her toe. He wrapped a towel around her and lifted her from the tub. She reached to take the towel from him so she could dry off, but he shook his head. “No, Trish. You belong to me. I’ll take care of you.” He patted her dry, and then he turned to the array of after-bath products on the counter. They were hers. She hadn’t noticed those before. “Lie on the massage table, face down.” The table had a place for her face to rest. She did as he commanded. He traced paths down her arms, across her shoulders, over her back and legs. There was no continuity to his pattern. He explored, leaving gooseflesh in his wake. Patricia shivered. “I’m going to take out the plug. I need you to relax.” A tug and it was gone. The sensation of fullness disappeared, leaving her feeling abandoned and empty. The wet sound of lotion being pumped caught her attention. Not once in fifteen years had he ever attempted to do anything like this. As he rubbed in the cream, his hands massaged and caressed. It was as erotic as it was tender, as sexy as it was sweet. “Turn over.”
He paid the same attention to the front of her body, lingering over her breasts and kneading them with care. When he finished, she felt like liquid. She could assume any shape he wanted. She would do anything he commanded. He brushed his finger over her lips, rubbing in her favorite lip balm. “Spread your legs, slave.” The narrowness of the table required her to bend her knees and drop her legs over the side. He teased her folds with the same gentle pressure he had used on her back. Wetness smeared where he touched. The massage had done its job. “So wet, my slave. So wet for me.” She wanted him to press harder, to thrust his fingers inside and fuck her with them. He withdrew, and she held in a whimper of protest.
Blurb for In His Hands by Raven McAllan
In Monsoon season in Hong Kong, anything can happen…Even so, the last thing Caness Clacher expected was to meet a Dom. The very man who made her want to sink to her knees and say, ‘Yes, Sir’. Unbeknown to her Patrick Lim had waited a long time to claim Caness as his sub. Without electricity and with a monsoon raging, it’s time to explore their desires. Will the elements work in their favor or not… Only time—and a scene—will tell.
Enjoy this excerpt from In His Hands by Raven McAllan
“Sodding monsoon, stops everything.” He looked down the alley toward the main road, where the traffic was queuing in a never-ending stream of vehicles streaming past, even if it was at a slow, slower or stop and start pace. “Everything?” His raised eyebrow made her chuckle. “Almost everything. But the two hour get home or be stranded warning was over an hour ago. I’m on borrowed time. Fuck. Look, Mr. Whoever, nice to meet you, and all that, but seriously I aught to go.” “You aught to be spanked for language like that. Don’t let me hear it again. Unless of course you want a spanking. That would be my pleasure.” To judge by the gush of liquid that dampened her panties yet again, it would be her pleasure as well. Oh lordy. “Look you still haven’t told me who you are, so this seems a bit stalkerish, and well, scary. Corporal punishment scary.” His eyes widened and he waggled one long finger in front of her face. An intricately carved ring of twisted silver shone in the ever-increasing gloom. “You don’t really think that. I watched your face when you realized what this jewelry was for.” He took hold of her chin and pressed a swift kiss to her lips. Before she even registered what he intended to do, he’d moved back and straightened. “Patrick Lim at your service. Now, pet, get your sweet booty inside, and let me lock up.” So I wasn’t far wrong. “This is yours?” She gestured at the gallery. “All mine.” He patted her bum, somewhat harder than a gentle move it tap, but not a full on spank—more was the pity. “I don’t ask twice and I do expect to be obeyed.” He does? Lord almighty. “What are you?” she blurted, and could have cut her tongue out at her tumbled breathless words. They would set a good impression, not. “Are you a silversmith?” He turned and did that bloody sexy one eyebrow raised thing again, before he inclined his head. “A master.” He invested the word with something indefinable. Whatever it was made her swallow and drop her gaze to his feet, clad, she’d bet her weeks salary, in Gucci loafers. “Oh I like that.” His words were soft but the intent in them made her lift her head sharply and shut her eyes briefly. If he meant what she thought he meant, she was in big trouble. Caness shook her head again and wet strands of hair flicked water towards him, splattering his suit and cheeks. Droplets ran down her chest and pooled in her cleavage. That was all she needed. He watched one errant raindrop chase another one across her skin and under the neck of her blouse. “That is where my tongue should be.” What? “Look,” Caness said desperately. “I’ll be fine if I go now. I don’t want to take you out of your way.” He turned toward the window, and lifted the silver jewelry out. “Give me five minutes and we’ll be on our way. And before you come up with excuses, I know where you live. Glorianna Villas in Sai Kung.” “How? No don’t tell me, Anthony told you.” Patrick pulled the window blinds down, and locked the door. “Amongst other things.” He looked over his shoulder at her as he moved into a back room. “Here you are, catch.” A second later a fine linen towel flew through the air toward her. Caness caught it automatically. “He worries.” His voice became faint and she heard the clank of a heavy metal door. Presumably he was putting the jewelry in the safe. It must be worth thousands. Damn, I’d love to have tried it on. “What other things?” she asked suspiciously as she tried to dry her hair, cleavage, and legs. Wet stockings were the pits, but there was no way she was going to take them off. No doubt he’d come back in and see her with her skirt bunched up around her ass and her lacy underwear on show. Caness was a great believer in the motto, “if you look good under your camouflage you’ll feel good and act it.” She might have to present an image of a banker on the outside—whatever that image was—however what she wore underneath her prim and proper suits was anything but. “That you’re denying your true needs because there’s no one strong enough to take you on.”