Friday, January 10, 2020

Breaking the Rules and Loving Every Minute of It #erotic #romance

Sneak Peek into Dominating Justice, Book 1 of the Den Series, now on preorder! 
Releases February 14, 2020!

From the back cover...

Lawyer by day, sex den owner by night, witch all of the time, 
Melinda Dubois is an expert at keeping secrets. When the thorn-in-her-side 
Judge Bradley Bennett becomes the newest elite member of The Den, 
she looks forward to playing Domme and doling out some justice of her own. 
As vulnerabilities are exposed and masks removed, the question becomes--
who is dominating whom?

***This is book one of a 3 part series featuring the Dubois sisters. 
Each book, however, is written as a stand-alone.***

An adult content excerpt...

Mistress M stepped out of the darkness. Ebony hair cascaded past her shoulders, bare breasts showcased by a leather bustier that kept them pert and separated by a diamond studded strap that wound around her shoulders like a halter. Emerald green eyes peered at him from behind a leather mask as she strode slowly toward him, long legs encased in boots that went to mid thigh, high-heels clicking ominously on the floor, and a crop dangling loosely from her fingers. 

He touched fingertips to the matching collar he'd been instructed to wear and felt his cock tingling in response. He belonged to this exotic woman for the night—the knowledge extinguished his doubts. 

"Stand up and take off your robe, pet. I want to see you," she instructed as she moved in a slow circle around him. 

He stood slowly, not sure what to say, and undid the sash at his waist. When the satin material slid off his body, he felt the tip of the crop slide up his spine. He held his breath, unsure what to say or do despite the lengthy instructions he'd read prior to signing the agreement. 

"You're missing something." Her hot breath slid against the skin beneath his ear. "Are you already disobeying me?" 

Smack. The blow to his ass made him cry out with both surprise and pain. 

"No, I—"

Smack went the crop against his tender backside. 

"Address me as Mistress M or Mistress. Always."

"Yes, Mistress." He turned his head to look at her and was surprised to see her smiling at him.

"Do you know what you've forgotten yet?" she asked. 

He looked into her eyes, fascinated by the intensity of their color and the confidence burning in them. He glanced down at the bondage belt he'd been instructed to put on but had forgotten while caught up in the troubling thoughts torturing his mind. 

He reached for it while she watched, more excited than he'd imagined he could be when he'd first stepped into the room. He placed the belt around his waist while his cock rose to the moment. He knew the rules, no actual intercourse, but when he noticed her bare ass exposed by the leather thong, he couldn't help but wish their roles were reversed.

"You're thinking of all the lovely things you could do to me aren't you, pet? Well," she poked him in the center of his chest with the crop, slid it up his throat, and used it to tilt his chin up until they looked at each other eye-to-eye, "I'm not a whore."

"I know—"

"What did you say?" Gloved fingers gripped his jaw and held him firm. 

"Mistress, I'm sorry."

"Get on the table." 

He complied, the cool of the wood against his back awkward as his long legs dangled over the edge while his cock pointed at the ceiling, the air teasing the tip. He hid his surprise when shackles clasped his ankles against the table, his legs spread wide. She grabbed one of his hands, kissed his the inside of his wrist, and snapped handcuffs on him. She repeated the process with his other hand, her kiss warm on his skin, almost gentle. When he tried to arch his back to accommodate the uncomfortable position, she secured clamps to the belt at his waist and held him firm. 

Her nipples teased the hair on his chest when she leaned over him and looked into his eyes. "Do you trust me?" 

"Yes, Mistress, I do." And he did. Maybe it was the way she looked at him from behind the mask, but he felt like he knew her, that she wasn't as anonymous as she'd like him to believe.  

"Maybe I'll break some rules with you...but nothing you don't want. I'm here to bring you pleasure, do you understand?"

"I do, Mistress M." He swallowed the extra saliva gathering in his mouth at the glide of her tits over his chest when she rose up and nibbled on his ear. God, he wanted to kiss her despite the pain growing in his extremities. 

"I read what you wrote about wanting to lose control for awhile, but you are in control, pet. I will never do anything you don't want. Just say your safe word and I'll stop. You wrote that your word would be 'overruled.' Still want to go with that?" 

He nodded, his voice lodged in his throat at the nagging thought that he recognized her voice. Impossible. He closed his eyes and concentrated on the sensations of the moment. 

Strands of her long hair tickled his face as she licked his neck. Musky scents from the candles meshed with the smell of lavender on her skin. Sounds of their breathing mixed with the snapping of the wood in the fireplace. 

Strapped to the table in a spread eagle position, cock at the ready, he was hers for the taking and liked it. 

Liked feeling wanted.

Liked being used. 

Liked being handled. 

Liked being hers to command. 

Gloved hands slid over his shoulders before moving over his chest as if memorizing the contours of his body. He bit his lip, the anticipation of what was to come almost too unbearable. 

She stood between his spread legs, crop in hand, and looked at his balls and cock as if contemplating exactly what to do with him. 

Smack. She hit first one thigh and then the other, alternating between hard and gentle, creating a rhythm that stimulated him. He'd never felt more exposed or more aroused. His cock throbbed with the need for release. His balls quivered with anticipation.

"You punish people for a living, don't you, Your Honor?" She slapped him with the crop again, harder. "Do you ever doubt yourself?"


She dropped the crop, and grabbed his balls with her gloved hand. Squeezed. "What did you say?"

"No, Mistress." He winced when she lightly spanked his already aching genitals. "Sometimes, yes, Mistress. Sometimes I do." 

She rewarded him by licking the tip of his cock. "Don't lie to me, pet." 

"I'm sorry, Mistress. I can't admit weakness. Job hazard."

"Do you feel weak now?" She slid her gloved hand over his shaft.

"No." He frowned at his answer. He'd never allowed himself to be tied up, to be this vulnerable with anyone in his life, yet he'd never felt more powerful. 

One hand on his cock and the other working his balls, she met his gaze through the slits of her mask. "Do you want to come?"

"Yes, Mistress." 

"Not yet, pet." She abruptly left him and walked away, her tight ass tormenting him from afar. 

What he wouldn't give for a taste. 

Candle in hand, she returned, a grin on her gorgeous face as she stood over his chest and tilted it until wax dropped onto the center of his chest. 

"Damn it," he called out with the pain. 

She smacked his thigh with the crop because he hadn't addressed her properly, even in pain. 

He grinned at the lack of mercy and stiffened at the sight of the candle tipping yet again over him. They made eye contact when the wax trickled onto his skin. He sank his teeth into his bottom lip and refrained from saying anything. He couldn't look away from those green eyes, masked face, thick veil of black hair, and delicious breasts on display. He curled his fingers and wished he could touch her. He'd never known agony could be so sweet. 

She continued the candle torture down his body, before leaning between his legs. 

"No, don't," he said as he watched her tip the candle over his balls. 

She hesitated, gaze snapping to his, but when he didn't say the safe word they'd agreed upon, she tipped the candle. 

"Mistress, oh my God." He tried to squirm but the restraints held him firm. 

But then her mouth came down on his erection, warm and welcome. Hands pleasured rather than tortured. He moaned as her hot breath teased his cock and her tongue twirled around the shaft. He tensed, knowing he couldn't stop himself from coming. She stood, hand still gripping his cock, and watched his cum shoot across his abdomen. 

Shaking from orgasm, breathing labored, he lifted his head at the warm touch of water on his body. Mistress M smiled at him as she gently washed him clean. 

She slid down and released his ankles from their shackles before moving to his wrists. She moved first one hand and then the other to his side and handcuffed him to the belt at his waist. 

He sank his teeth into his lower lip, gaze locked onto the jiggle of her breasts as she moved around him. 

"Follow me." She turned her back on him and walked to the lone bed in the room. She crawled onto it, back to him, and patted the spot next to her. 

The flickering light of the fireplace cast erotic golden shadows on her white skin. The laces of her bustier crisscrossed her narrow back. Toned round ass topped long thighs. She looked at him over her shoulder, face hidden by the mask, and eyes in shadow. Unbelievably, she slid her fingers up her hips, reached into the narrow strings of her thong, and pulled them free. 

He slid awkwardly from the table, the uncertainty of the moment amplifying his anticipation. Gaze locked on the space between her thighs, he thought of nothing else but her pussy. 

He sat on the edge of the bed before wiggling back until his head hit the pillow. Out of breath from the awkwardness of being bound and the numbness of his legs, he watched her straddle his waist.

Without breaking eye contact, she removed first one glove and then another. "I want to touch you with my bare hands. Can I do that?"

"Yes, Mistress." He choked out the words, gaze locked on her hard nipples. Knowing that she wanted him as much as he wanted her made him feel powerful despite their chosen roles for the night. 

She slid her hands up his chest as she inched forward until her breast grazed his lips. "Suck me, pet." 

He obeyed, his teeth lightly grazing her nipple before sucking and licking. He moved his head between both breasts, luxuriating in the sensation of their weight on his face and her heat inches away as she gripped the pillows for support. 

"Now taste me." She shifted until her pussy rested against his mouth. 

He pushed his tongue into the center of her before licking her clit. He couldn't get enough of her as she ground against his face. Nothing else mattered except the need to please her. 

He curled his fingers into the mattress at his side and fought against his restraints. The desire to touch, squeeze, hold, and fuck her burned through his veins like a wildfire. 

Her body shuddered before moving abruptly away and out of reach. He licked his lips, her taste more intoxicating than any drug he could imagine. Again his cock begged for satisfaction. 

"I never fuck my clients," she said in the darkness, "but maybe, if you beg me, I'll make an exception."

He closed his eyes, the battle between want and need warring with right and wrong. He carried the mantle of judge with pride, a keeper of the law. 

"I'll refund your membership," she said quietly in the dark. "No money will change hands, my pet. I'm not a whore, but I want you like I've never wanted anyone. It will be our private arrangement."

"Are you reading my mind, Mistress M?" He turned his head and grinned at the wicked gleam in her eyes. "Why?"

"Don't ask questions or I'll change my mind." Perched on an elbow, she leaned forward and bit his shoulder. 

"Do I know you?" The thought turned into a spoken question before he could stop it. 

Not answering, she reached down and squeezed his balls. "Didn't you forget something?"

"Do I know you, Mistress M?" He smiled at the authority in her voice. 

"I'm the one who asked you a question, pet." She kissed his throat. "Do you want me to fuck you? Yes or no?"

"Yes, Mistress, please fuck me." His cock quivered at the idea. He licked his lips where he could still taste her. 

"Beg me. More." Without looking up, she peeled the dried wax from his skin, ripping hair out as she went. 

He cried out with the pain, the desire to touch her driving him over the brink of insanity. "Please, Mistress, please."

"More begging. I'm not convinced." She licked her way down his body, her head hovering above his erection while her gaze locked on his. 

"I'm begging you, Mistress. Please. Show me some mercy." He broke eye contact and dropped his head back on the pillow. "Fuck me, Mistress. Please. I'm begging you." 

"I'm not in the mercy business, but I want what I want and I'm feeling a bit selfish tonight." Her throaty laugh sent waves of need pulsating through his body. 

He lifted his head and watched her ease her pussy onto his cock, her breasts begging to be touched. He bit his lip, the feeling again that he knew her from somewhere else stirring deep in his chest. 

"I like the way you beg me." Hands on his shoulders, she rode him slowly. Her breasts skimmed over his chest when she leaned over him.

He wanted to kiss her, touch her, break all the rules and turn her into his sub before the night was over. Take turns dominating and submitting. 

As if sensing his need, she pressed her lips against his. "We're breaking all the rules tonight, pet."

"Yes, Mistress. Thank you, Mistress." He smiled against her mouth before she kissed him. 

Law abiding citizen or not, he could appreciate being bad and breaking the rules. He thrust his hips up to meet hers, hands clenched in the sheets from pure frustration at being unable to touch her like he wanted. The weight of her breasts against his chest, the dance of her hair falling against his shoulders, the hotness of her mouth on his, and the wetness of her cunt squeezing around his cock drove him mad with wanting more yet being denied full satisfaction. 

She bit lower lip, drawing blood, as her body shuddered over his. 

He groaned and came inside her with the strongest orgasm he'd ever experienced.

They stayed like that for a minute or two. He lost track of time with the scent of her hair filling his nostrils and the feel of her delectable body against his. 

He wanted to believe that she didn't do this with every client—even if she did refund his money as promised. He wanted to believe he was the special one, even if was just another lie. Sometimes what we choose to believe matters more than the truth. 

He closed his eyes, fingers curling in the sheets. 

"When you leave, make a weekly appointment," she whispered against his ear. "I'll look forward to it."

"Mistress M..." He watched her slide off the bed before slowly looking at him through a veil of  black hair and the slits in her mask.

"Yes, pet?"

He shook his head, unable to finish his sentence for fear of sounding pitiful. He had wanted to ask her to stay—to talk to him. But that's not why he had come here, right? If he'd wanted someone to talk to, he would hire a shrink not a dominatrix. 

Averting her gaze as if sensing his internal conflict, she undid his shackles and kissed the center of his chest. 

He stayed still, not knowing if his touch would be welcomed even though he desperately wanted to wrap his hands in her hair. 

"Go home now, Pet," she whispered against his skin. "Dream of me. I'll see you next week, yes?"


"Yes, what?" She smacked his thigh with the crop he'd forgotten about. 

"Yes, Mistress M." 

Oh, what the hell?

He leaned up and grabbed her face before she could slip away from him and kissed her with the force he'd been holding back. Although she stiffened at first, she eventually opened her mouth wide and matched her intensity with her own. 

He thought about nothing else as drove home through a blinding snowstorm, his body still shaking from the intensity of the experience. Snow blew horizontally across the road, yet his mind's eye saw only Mistress M's emerald eyes staring at him from behind that damn mask. 

Preorder your copy now! Releases February 14, 2020

Thursday, October 17, 2019

It Only Takes a SPARK to fall in love #PNR

He's a naughty fallen angel...she's a reckless mountain guide...together they're combustible! 
Taking a look inside the erotic supernatural romance, SPARK! 

Back cover blurb...

Calvin Ritchie wants solitude and isn't about to let a wildfire stop him from doing exactly what he wants. An action-adventure movie star, he is in Ouray for a weekend as far away from prying eyes as he can get. He is at a crossroads in his life. As part of a group of fallen angels that needs to either find redemption or be damned for eternity, Calvin is being tested by both light and dark forces.

When a sexy movie star wants to hire her to guide him into Box Canyon despite the wildfire raging miles south of town, local mountain guide Willow Leslie says yes. Never one to turn down an adventure—or a big payday—she ignores the warnings and trusts her skills as they head out for a holiday weekend. 

What they don't know is that an arsonist is loose in the forest and has started a second fire that traps them in the canyon. Bound by survival, they embark on a journey of erotic exploration and internal reckoning as the flames spread closer each day. 

Will Calvin find that spark of redemption he needs to rescue them from certain death? Can Willow learn to trust someone other than herself enough to let love melt her jaded heart? 

An content

"What's with your obsession over the drone footage? You look like a guy who is looking for something rather than a guy watching himself having a good time."

He laughed. He had expected a question about his personal life—at least that is what he had hoped for. "I would rather not answer that."

"You said I could ask you anything."

"In your show, you're always very chatty with clients."

"You're different."


She tilted her head toward the sky and declined to answer. 

He smiled because, for the first time since meeting her, he sensed a crack in her detached facade. Maybe, in fact, she was more interested in him than he had assumed. 

She started unbraiding her hair. He couldn't stop watching her do such a simple task. As her fingers worked out the braid, she hummed quietly to herself. He leaned back in his chair and appreciated all of it—the shadows across the canyon, the glow of the dragonfly lantern illuminating their little space on the bank, the sound of the stream rippling past only a few feet away. The bite of the cool mountain air licked over his skin. 

"You have beautiful hair."

"Thank you." She stared at the water flowing several feet away and brushed her fingers through the waves that fell to her elbows. "Why did you want to do this? You were so adamant that it had to be this weekend, no matter what, fire be damned. Are you hiding from something, Cal?"

"You were right—I'm looking for something."

She smiled through the veil of hair. "I hope I can help you find it."

Damn, is she seriously coming onto me? Or am I imagining the signals? Are there signals?

He stretched his legs out in front of him and wondered what do now. The combination of the oxy and bourbon dulled the chatter that started as usual with the setting of the sun. A familiar restlessness gnawed at him from the inside to do more, be more. Silence usually called forth the demons that tormented him. He tapped his feet against the ground and waited for the inevitable pull from the darkness. 

"What do you usually do overnight on your shoots for your show?" he asked because her silence unnerved him. He wasn't used to being with people who could simply sit and be quiet. Everyone he knew usually fell over themselves trying to compete for his attention with some stupid story or brazen move. Not Willow. She sat next to him, hair free around her shoulders, and stared at the water. 

She looked sad, he realized. Not the sobbing kind of sadness that wanted attention, but the soft kind that hinted at deep sorrow. He wanted to know why and that surprised him. He normally didn't care about the pettiness of human stresses. He found that most people were oblivious to their blessings and consumed with greed—and that bored him. He knew that assessment didn't fit Willow Leslie. 

"We normally chat and get to know each other," she said after a long pause. "The crew is usually here—Billy and Steve—so they liven up the conversation."

"Billy and Steve? You only have two cameramen?"

"Yes, just the two. You've seen the show," she cast him a long look, "They're good guys. They're up in Crested Butte this weekend." 

"Why did you want to do the show? You're a former Olympic skier—shouldn't you be coaching or judging or commentating on competitions? Isn't that the usual path?"

"I don't like the usual path." 

"Fair enough." He took another swig from his flask. 

"Why do you drink so much?"

"To drown out the voices in my head."

She laughed. 

"Seriously." He tapped his forefinger against his forehead. "They never shut up."

"We all have those voices."

"What do yours say?"

"That you're dangerous and I need to steer clear."

"They're right. I am the most dangerous adventure you could ever have." 

"I've been known to crave a danger or two."

His desire grew when she actually looked excited at the idea. 

"Want to know what my dare is?" 

"Ah, the dare. I forgot about that."

He squinted at her profile and grinned because he knew that was a lie. His angel senses might be dulled but he knew a lie when he smelled one. 

"Well? What is it? What would you like me to do?"


She twisted in the chair and gaped at him. "What?"

"It's only fair. You've seen me naked twice now and I want you to strip for me."

"You think I won't?" She arched an eyebrow. 

"I know you will." His smiled widened. 

"Fine. I need to change clothes anyway. It's getting cold. You're very predictable, Cal. I expected more creativity."

"Oh, I can be creative. If you're lucky, you'll find out exactly how creative I can be."

"I think you're all hype."

"Test me, baby, test me. I would love to prove you wrong."

He folded his arms across his chest, the flask dangling from his fingertips, and waited while she moved to stand in front of him. The glow of the lantern light cast golden shadows across her face. She smiled at him—completely confident and unafraid, almost as if she had wanted him to dare her to strip. Slowly, she rolled the hem of her t-shirt over her flat abdomen and inched it over her bra. She did so with such deliberation that he wondered if she had done this before. Over the sports bra it went. She cast it aside before peeling off her jeans with a swish-swish of her hips that had him shifting on the chair. She stood in front of him dressed in white cotton panties and a white cotton sports bra. Long arms, long legs, long hair—he wanted her wrapped around him. 

"Why don't you help me with the rest?" she asked. 

He leaned forward, unsure that he had heard her correctly. "What did you say?"

"These sports bras can be so hard to get on and off. A little help please?" She smiled the smile of a woman who knows her power. 

Without waiting for an answer, she walked into the round tent with the wild pillows and stood at the center, back to him. 

He jumped from the chair, dropped his flask to the ground, and followed her inside with a degree of awe. He hadn't expected her to strip...let alone ask him to help. Perhaps a part of him had hoped she would tell him to fuck off—but this unexpected response only deepened his fascination. 

He stopped behind her, an inch away and allowed his gaze to roam over the hair that fell to the middle of her back. He traced one finger down her spine and over the indent of her waist before sliding it up her arm toward her shoulder. He had seen beautiful women—Willow wasn't beautiful in an expected way, yet he had never before felt so enchanted. She emanated power and grace and stood before him like a goddess. Goosebumps rose on her skin where he touched. He heard her slight intake of breath. 

 He skimmed his fingertips beneath her hair and across her bare shoulder before sliding both hands over the front of her bra. He couldn't remember ever stripping a woman out of a sports bra before, but he liked the feeling of rolling it up and over her head, freeing her breasts to the night air. He dropped the fabric to the floor, slipped his fingers into her cotton panties and rolled them down her hips, and over her thighs. Kneeling behind her, he lifted first one foot and then the other until she stood naked with him holding both her ankles. 

The lantern's light illuminated her like a spotlight. Still kneeling, he slid his hands over the backs of her legs, kissed the back of her knees, and cupped her ass as he stood. He lifted her hair and pressed his mouth against the back of her neck. His hands roamed beneath her arms to cup her breasts. Keeping one hand on her breast and moving the other down her abdomen, he savored her surrender. 

She tilted her neck to the side to give him full access to nip and lick and kiss her throat from neck to ear. She leaned against his chest. 

He turned her around to face him and kneeled in front of her. He nudged her legs apart and looked up at the curve of her breasts above the flat abdomen. He grinned when he noticed the piercing in her belly button and the tattoo of an angel curving across her hipbone. He knew without being told that this was the angel she claimed to have seen that day of her crash. He leaned up and kissed it. He grabbed her ass. He licked and sucked her clit while gripping her ass to hold her steady. He feasted on her, felt her thighs tremble against his face. He devoured her as if she were a sacrifice given to appease him. Her fingers curled in his hair and she ground her hips against his eager tongue. 

He moved quickly and pulled her to the pillows and spread her legs wide before she could say a word or move. He thrust his fingers inside her and returned to her clit. 

She twisted against the pillows, her hips thrusting and back arching. When her body quaked beneath his tongue, he rose up only far enough to free his cock. He needed to be inside her and he needed to be there now. 

He reached for his backpack and retrieved a condom while she propped herself up on her elbows and watched. Anticipation rolled off of her in waves of pheromones that urged him to move faster. 

He peeled off his clothes, managed to roll the condom onto his cock and rammed himself inside of her. Her cunt clenched over his penis and held him tight as he buried himself to his balls and ground his hips against hers. He sank his teeth into her shoulder, claiming her. 

Her hands were all over him—moving across his back, along his shoulders, into his hair. 

They kissed—finally—mouths hungry for each other and breath tangling while tongues danced together. He fucked her like a wild animal and kissed her like a starving man. The orgasm ripped through him from his toes, through his torso, through his lungs, and through the top of his head. He arched his head backward as he came—hard. 

Her legs held him to her. Her fingernails sank into his biceps. 

A familiar itch slid down his back and the felt the stirrings of his hidden wings aching to be set free. He shoved deeper into her until she cried out from a combination of pain and pleasure. His wings spread out behind him and blocked out the lantern light. 

Her head was back, eyes closed, body writhing underneath him like an untamed creature succumbing to primal urges. Her blonde hair spread out across the neon pink and green pillows. 

He slid his cock from her, grabbed her hips and flipped her over before she could see his wings. He pounded into her from behind and grabbed her breasts—squeezed until she moaned. He reached one hand around and touched her ass. He wanted her every way he could have her. He slid a finger into her wet cunt before sliding it over her asshole. Slowly, he slid off his used condom and pushed the tip of his cock into her. She froze but didn't protest. Instead she pushed her butt back against him. He grabbed her hips and eased his girth into her until she screamed and bent her head back. He wrapped her long hair around his fist and thrust into her, rode her ass and yanked her hair until he came again. 

Her scream became a low purr of satisfaction. She pressed her forehead against the pillow. 

His wings shuttered at his side, their mass taking up the entirety of the round tent. He pushed her head back down when she tried to turn to look at him. He didn't want to use his powers to make her forget what had happened and wasn't prepared to show her his true self. 

He had never shown a woman his wings. 

He kissed her spine from between her shoulder blades down to the curve of her ass. He nipped the side of her hip and waited until his wings settled back inside before turning her onto her back. 

Her hair wrapped around her face and neck. She blinked at him with a slow smile stretching across her lips. 

"That was unexpected." She flung an arm above her head. 

He took the opportunity to trace the outline of her breasts and to simply look at her. He could lie and tell her that this hadn't been part of his plan—but he had known all along that would end up balls deep inside her. It had only been a question of timing. 

He had never faced a challenge he couldn't win. 

He focused on the tattoo and his smile slipped when he recognized one of the angels who pestered him on a regular basis—Marisol—staring up at him from the woman he had just thoroughly fucked and who he planned on fucking again and again until dawn. 

Every fiber of his being quaked with anger—sudden and hot. 

This had been a trap.

Keep reading today!