Anna’s entire life was scripted out before she was born by Devin Andersen, a man who doesn’t have her best interests in mind. She is destined to be a tool in the hands to gain ultimate power in the USA. No, not as the President, but as the man who controls the President.
Raised by an extremely abusive guardian, Anna was molded into the perfect sex slave for Devin’s use. Devin will use Anna’s unique gifts to control everyone around him and eventually take her gifts for himself.
When Devin took her for himself at the age of sixteen, she had a vision of a man. A man who Devin was very interested in. But why? Why would Devin care about a young girl’s dreams?
***** Warning *****
This book is for mature adults. Do not read this if you are under the age of consent in your country. This book is not for people who are easily offended, get nightmares easily, or have difficulty reading books about sexual, physical, emotional abuse and torture.Disclaimer: This book series is about a sex slave. Therefore, there is sex in it. Lots of sex (though I took a bunch out. lol).
I do promise a satisfying Happily Ever After at the very end.
Warning: This book has been known to cause book hangovers.
I’m very happy to welcome back one of my very favourite guest bloggers and one awesome story-teller, the lovely Lisabet Sarai! I honoured to launch the blog tour for her exciting new novel, The Ingredients of Bliss. There’s fun, there’s a sizzling excerpt, there’s a totally amazing giveaway and of course, links so you can get your own must-have copy of The Ingredients of Blisse!
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Details for how you can enter the fabulous giveaway are right after the x-rated excerpt
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The Ingredients of Bliss: From Short Story to Novel
The characters in The Ingredients of Bliss made their first appearance in my short story Her Secret Ingredient. At the time, I had no thoughts of following that story with a novel-length sequel. Totally Bound had contacted me and asked if I’d like to contribute to their new What’s Her Secret imprint. The concept sounded intriguing – a series where each heroine keeps something hidden from the other characters, until she’s forced to reveal it.
As I pondered the possibilities, the story started to take shape in my mind. Mei Lee “Emily” Wong is a French-trained chef from Hong Kong who is invited to America to appear on a cooking show with the famous Gallic foodie, Etienne Duvalier. A culinary traditionalist, Etienne scorns Emily’s more creative approach to cooking. To win him to her side, she spikes a test dish with an ancient Chinese aphrodisiac. However, the nerdy producer Harry Sanborne samples the adulterated profiteroles before she has a chance to offer them to Etienne, and reacts with delightful passion. Though she’s drawn to Harry, the ambitious Chinese gal resolves to try again, with disastrous results. When Etienne consumes the aphrodisiac, she finds him on his knees, begging to be sexually dominated – on national television! Harry saves the day and sweeps Emily the rest of the way off her feet. In the final chapter of the book (exclusive to the VIP edition available directly from Totally Bound), Harry reveals his interest in BDSM and Emily discovers, much to her surprise, that she has a strong submissive streak – at least when Harry is topping her.
I was pretty happy with Her Secret Ingredient. It’s light and funny and sexy. However, I thought I was done with Emily, Harry and Etienne. Then the publisher asked if I could write a follow-up novel.
I was floored at first. I mean, I didn’t know these characters all that well. How deeply can you explore someone in 15K? Still, I like to make people happy, especially my publishers, so I put on my thinking cap. My first breakthrough was the notion of setting the novel in France. In 2013 I spent two weeks touring that fabulous country, so I thought maybe Emily, Harry and Etienne might follow in my footsteps.
With two males and one female, a ménage seemed inevitable. However, Harry is a Dom and Etienne has masochistic tendencies. How was I going to work that? And whom does Emily really want? The suave, seductive Frenchman, or the virile, sexually-creative American? Or both? And (aside from love scenes and the travel log), what was I going to do with the requisite 60,000 words?
The answers came to me gradually. I came to know my characters more intimately. I realized that Emily was as confused and uncertain about the situation with her two lovers as I was. So I let her work it out, giving the plot a radical twist that brought her true feelings into stronger relief.
And now? I think could write another novel about Emily, Harry and Etienne. Will I? That all depends on the reception I get to The Ingredients of Bliss!
Blurb for The Ingredients of Bliss:
One sexy French chef. One kinky American TV producer. One ambitious Chinese gal who thinks she wants them both. The ingredients of bliss? Or a recipe for disaster?
Accomplished cook Mei Lee “Emily” Wong knows exactly what she wants—her own show on the Tastes of France food channel. But life is full of complications. First, her deceptively nerdy producer, Harry Sanborne, initiates Emily into the delights of submission. Then her boss, legendary chef Etienne Duvalier, begs her to dominate him. Emily just can’t resist—especially when Harry orders her to explore her inner mistress. Suave and sexy Etienne will do whatever she asks—in the bedroom if not in the kitchen. And Harry, her lovingly diabolical Dom, adores pushing Emily’s limits.
When the network sends the trio to France to shoot a series of cooking shows on location, Emily knows her career is on the upswing. Her plans fall apart in Marseille as a Hong Kong drug syndicate kidnaps both Etienne and Harry. The Iron Hammer Triad mistakes Etienne for notorious gangster Jean Le Requin, who has stolen their drug shipment, worth millions. Emily realizes she must find the real Le Requin, retrieve the purloined dope, and bargain it for Harry’s and Etienne’s lives. The secret she’s been keeping from Harry might prove useful. Still, what chance does one woman whose knife skills are limited to chopping vegetables, have against the ruthless cruelty of two criminal organizations?
X-Rated Excerpt: The Ingredients of Bliss by Lisabet Sarai
“What’s eating you, Em?”
Harry looked up from one of his favorite positions—crouched between my spread legs—and searched my face. The usual mischief gleamed in his cinnamon-brown eyes—a bit unfocused without his glasses—but his lush mouth showed no trace of a grin.
“Shouldn’t that be who, rather than what?” My laugh sounded forced, even to my own ears. It turned to a squeal as he swept his tongue along the length of my cleft, ending with a neat flick to my clit.
“I’m serious. Something’s bothering you.”
Sometimes his intuition scared me. “It’s nothing, really.” How did this guy know me so well, after a mere three months?
“Tell me!”
“Ow!” He’d pinched the sensitive flesh of my inner thigh.
“Do I have to beat a confession out of you—again?”
His casual reference was enough to send my mind spinning back to that wild night when he’d first revealed his kinky streak. Tied to the iron railing at the look-out atop Twin Peaks, my panties around my ankles and my dress bunched up around my waist, I’d received my first searing lesson in submission.
Unruly hair fell into his eyes, making him look younger, and rougher, too—a bit like Brando in A Streetcar Named Desire. I wanted to brush those black locks off his brow, to touch him, to soothe and reassure him—to feel his lovely muscles shift under the tanned skin of his broad shoulders. Bound hand and foot to the bed frame, all I could do was writhe and yelp as he burrowed his face in my pussy, while raking my thighs with his fingernails.
Pain and pleasure. Pleasure and pain. Wasn’t there a time when I could tell the difference?
Whatever he was doing, I liked it. I couldn’t pretend that I didn’t.
Second prize: $20 gift certificate to Whole Foods Market (http://www.wholefoodsmarket.com)
Third prize: Three-pack of ebooks from my back list, including a copy of Her Secret Ingredient, the prequel to The Ingredients of Bliss.
I’ll also be giving a PDF copy of my own original cookbook, Recipes from an International Kitchen, to everyone who leaves a comment. AND I have a bonus $10 Totally Bound gift certificate for the tour host who gets the most reader comments.
To enter, simply leave a comment that includes your email address. You can enter once for each spot in the tour. For the full tour schedule, go to:
The special VIP edition of The Ingredients of Bliss is now available from Totally Bound. This version contains a sizzling bonus chapter not available from other retailers. Totally Bound has the most advanced book selling site of any independent publisher on the web, with new One-Click ordering and direct delivery to all e-reader platforms.
About Lisabet:
I started both writing and cooking at an early age, and I’ve continued to indulge both passions as I’ve matured. Usually I’m an improvisational cook; I’m not all that fond of following recipes, and when I do, I almost always introduce my own variations. My philosophy tends to be the more spice, the better.
You could say the same about my writing. Since the release of my debut novel Raw Silk in 1999, I’ve published lots of erotica and erotic romance in almost every sub-genre– more than fifty single author titles, plus dozens of short stories in various erotic anthologies, including the Lambda winner Where the Girls Are and the IPPIE Best Erotic Book of 2011, Carnal Machines. My gay scifi erotic romance Quarantine won a Rainbow Awards 2012 Honorable Mention.
I have more degrees than anyone would ever need, from prestigious educational institutions who would no doubt be deeply embarrassed by my chosen genre. Widely traveled but still with a long bucket list of places to go, I currently live in Southeast Asia with my indulgent husband and two exceptional felines, where I pursue an alternative career that is completely unrelated to my creative writing.
When I was conducting research for the Pirates of the Jolie Rouge trilogy I learned a lot about pirates. Some of what I learned surprised me. Here are ten of the more interesting tidbits I picked up.
Most pirate ships didn’t have a physician or surgeon on board unless one was captured and “convinced” to serve on the ship. Often these medical doctors were not forced to sign the ship’s articles. That way if they were ever captured the doctor could maintain that he was innocent of engaging in piracy.
A pirate captain was elected and could always be “unelected” by his men. A pirate ship was more of a democracy than a dictatorship.
The quartermaster received more of the booty than the rest of the crew and the same amount as the captain. He was more powerful than the first mate.
Pirates didn’t eat very well, with meat jerky and hardtack making up the majority of their diet. This is why they often suffered from scurvy.
Fresh water was a luxury, which was why they were actually encouraged to drink rum and other alcoholic beverages. These remained sanitary longer than the casks of fresh water.
Women were not usually allowed to sail on pirate ships, as they were considered too much of a distraction.
An eye-patch could be a disadvantage in a swordfight because it affects peripheral vision and depth perception.
Pirates succumbed to numerous mosquito-born illnesses as well as venereal diseases from their visits to prostitutes.
There is a difference between being a pirate and a privateer. A privateer worked for the English government and was legally sanctioned to “commandeer” goods from Spanish ships. Pirates, on the other hand, engaged in illegal activity.
While it was a real pirate town in the Bahamas, Port Royal was destroyed by an earthquake in 1692 and is no longer inhabited.
Here’s an excerpt from my latest erotic historical novella Bound by the Buccaneer
“You did what?” A white fury had overtaken Frederica, and was now in a full-blown rage. “You agreed I would do what?” Her voice grew more shrill by the minute.
Gaston had taken her back to their cabin aboard the Ocean’s Knave and told her about his agreement with Pugwash, Chatham, and Appling. He seemed upset about the bargain too, his brow had a new crease and he looked weary. He sat on the bed as Frederica paced around the room trying to absorb the news.
“If you won’t agree to this, Freddie, we will not receive their protection. We will be sailing the Caribbean marked men, the prime target for every pirate ship on the water. Our crew is mighty, but one day we will find ourselves out-manned, out-gunned, or both.
We headed down this path because you don’t have the stomach for killing innocents, but there are consequences to every action. And the consequences for what we’ve done is that we’re the most hunted, most wanted pirates in the Caribbean.”
“Good deeds must be punished? Is that what you’re saying?” she asked defiantly.
“Frederica, you are not a child. Do not behave as one. Pirates, as a rule, do not share your scruples. Perhaps I should never have gone along with your idea to raid other pirate ships, but I did and there’s no sense in rehashing events from the past. What’s done is done.
“The answer is simple. We need protection, a larger force. There is strength in numbers and these three Captains are willing to join us with their ships and their crews. That would make us 400 strong, Frederica! Imagine that…The only snag is if they think me a dandy who dances to a woman’s tune they will have no desire to be associated with the Ocean’s Knave.” He shook his head. “And no pirate worth his salt would blame them”
Knowing he spoke the truth did little to quell her concerns. Her stomach tightened. “I still don’t understand why they must bed me,” she complained. Gaston was treating her as if she were a possession to be shared without a hint of concern for how his actions would affect her, and it hurt.
Running out of patience he sighed. “My dear, if I offer you as a gift they will view you more as my property than as my shrew, thereby proving their concerns are unfounded.”
Rolling her eyes she repeated his words with a sneer. “Your property?”
“Yes, my property,” he said in a no-nonsense tone.
“But…” she tried to find words. The idea of three men, strangers to her, taking her body as they wished frightened her. However, along with the fear, she felt a little glimmer of excitement and possibly curiosity. Gaston was the only man she’d ever been intimate with, and now she wondered what it would be like to be taken by another man.
Bound by the Buccaneer
Two years have passed since Frederica joined Gaston aboard the Ocean’s Knave, and with every passing hour they have fallen more deeply in love. By day she is the ship’s physician, but at night she serves her captain in his bed, offering her body for him to punish and pleasure until she begs for more. But after a successful run of raiding other pirate ships, the couple have a target on their backs.
Their only hope is to form an alliance with a trio of like-minded captains, but in order to guarantee the cooperation of these unyielding, battle-hardened men, Gaston is forced to offer them a night with Frederica. Reluctantly, she agrees to be shared with the men, but afterwards Gaston finds it difficult to forgive himself for bartering Frederica’s charms. As jealousy and desperation threaten to consume him, will Gaston lose his beloved Frederica or can he weather the storm and find a way to bind her to him forever?
Publisher’s Note: Bound by the Buccaneer is the second book of the Pirates of the Jolie Rouge trilogy, which began with Rescued by the Buccaneer. It is an adventure and erotic romance novel that includes spankings, sexual scenes including a foursome, anal play, elements of BDSM, and more.
You can pick up your copy of Bound by the Buccaneer today:
Since the Pirate of the Jolie Rouge Trilogy is best read in order, here’s more about the first book:
Rescued by the Buccaneer
When Frederica Beauchamp boards a ship for the Americas, she dreams of a life filled with adventure, but she gets more than she bargained for when her passenger ship is attacked by pirates. The heartless men kidnap her and force her to serve their captain—a fate that might be worse than death, since though he does not have his way with her, the captain delights in baring her, shaming her, and thrashing her bare bottom as punishment for every imagined disobedience.
After the pirates bring aboard an injured man found floating in the sea, Frederica tends to his wounds and learns that he is Gaston Galette, a survivor of a shipwrecked vessel. Gaston seeks her help to overthrow the vile captain, but when their plan goes awry he is forced to use all of his wiles to save them. As the naïve girl and the seasoned sailor navigate one perilous situation after another, he informs Frederica that the only way they can survive is if he is in command, and that if she thinks things can be otherwise, she will be taken over his knee for a bare bottom spanking.
As he watches the proud, willful Frederica bow to his authority, however, Gaston worries that her growing hold on his heart will be his downfall. He knows he cannot take a woman with him when he returns to his ship and crew, but when Frederica accepts his lustful dominance completely, submitting to him with grace and beauty no other woman could match, Gaston realizes that he may never be able to let her go.
Publisher’s Note: Rescued by the Buccaneer is the first book of the Pirates of the Jolie Rouge trilogy. It is an adventure and erotic romance novel that includes spankings, sexual scenes including elements of BDSM and humiliation, and more.
A former psychologist, Normandie has always been fascinated by human behavior. She loves writing quirky characters that are all too human. Fiber arts, baking, and Pinterest are a few of her favorite pastimes. She lives on a farm with a passel of kids, an adorable husband, and a pet pig who’s crazy for Red Bull.
I read a great quote from someone on facebook the other day. I can’t remember who it was, so sorry if it was you and I haven’t named you! This particular quote was something along the lines of, ‘Just because I write about it, doesn’t mean I’ve done it … But it doesn’t mean I haven’t done it either.’ I loved the cheeky allure of this quote, and I had to smile when I read it. After all, I’ve lost times of the number of times I’ve been asked this very same question!
So where does an erotica author get his or her inspiration? Even authors who don’t live a more exotic lifestyle, such as being in a BDSM relationship, or working in the sex industry, can take inspiration from real life. Life for me is far from exciting. I’m a married mother of three small children, so I have to get my inspiration from the more ‘normal’ things in life. This isn’t a problem, of course, because inspiration can come from all the influences in our lives. My latest novel, ‘Survivor’, which I hope to have out later this year, was partly influenced by my husband’s love of survivalist shows. The only reason I happily watch these shows with him is because of the (usually) hot, half naked man who spends an hour fighting his way through the jungle; the very epitome of an alpha male. On one particular show, they brought a female celebrity along, and I thought to myself ‘I bet she’s only gone on this show so she can spend a week up close and personal with him.’ And so my novel was born. I started writing it that very same night!
My latest serial was also inspired by a real life event. A few years ago, I attended (and spoke at) an erotica writer’s conference, Eroticon. Speaking at this conference was an erotic photographer. I’ve always loved anything artistic, and so went along to his session. It was during this talk that I started wondering about how the relationship between the photographer and a model might develop, especially since the model is exposing herself in the most intimate of ways. How could there not be some sexual tension in the room?
And so my serial, ‘Model, Wanted,’ came into creation. There are now four parts to the serial, with the fourth part just released, and part one free across most retailers!
So how about you? Are there any particular moments in life that have inspired a short story or a novel, or, if you’re a reader, moments that have happened that you wish could have inspired a story? If so I’d love to hear about them! And if you’d like you check out ‘Model, Wanted: Part One’ for free, you can do so by clicking on the following links!
Model, Wanted: Part One Excerpt:
Eric cleared his throat and forced himself to his feet. His job was to photograph her like this, not imagine how she would taste as he pushed his tongue inside her cunt.
He adjusted the lighting hanging from the rail on the ceiling and then picked up his camera. He started with shots of her face, one cheek crushed against the white paper-covered floor, her eyes wide and innocent, portraying her vulnerability. Such contrast to the pose she was in. He moved to her back and hands, taking shots of the metal bound around her slender wrists.
Finally, he moved the camera to aim between her thighs, at the way her spread position exposed her pussy and ass to him in all of their perfection.
“Are you going to fuck me like this?” she asked out of the blue.
He lowered the camera in shock. “That isn’t what this is about.”
She twisted her neck as best she could and locked eyes with him. “What about if that’s what I want this to be about?”
“Anya …”
But he didn’t know what he was going to say. Surely he didn’t intend on telling her no? The position she was in, with her cheek pressed against the floor, her ankles forced apart, her perfect heart-shaped bottom pushed into the air, was just ripe for fucking hard. Between her slender thighs, the swollen lips of her vulva peeped out. He didn’t think he imagined the sheen on her pussy or the inside of her thighs.
His balls ached and his cock lengthened in his pants. Her gaze shifted, resting on the increasingly obvious bulge in his crotch.
“Anya,” he tried again. “It’s crossing a line. I don’t want to be that kind of man …”
“But I want to be that kind of girl,” she said. She spread her ankles wider, pulling the small chains between the spreader bar taut. The metal clinked in response. The position widened her stance, her thighs even more spread than before, exposing the star of her asshole and the delicate inner folds of her pussy.
“Oh, God,” he moaned.
Fuck it. He might want to be a professional when it came to his photography, but he was still a man.
With one swift move, he undid his belt and whipped it from the loops of his pants. He took her bottom between his hands and lowered his face to her wet slit like a man starving. The scent of her juices filled his senses, a musky but sweet perfume. He buried his tongue between her folds, seeking her waiting hole. Hardening his tongue, he slipped inside her easily, her arousal and juices opening her up to him. Her cream covered his mouth, moistening his chin, and he moved in and out, feeling her inner muscles tighten and contract around his tongue.
Anya writhed and moaned beneath his attention, but he wasn’t going to let her come yet.
Eric knelt up behind her, admiring the view. He’d never had someone so submissive to him before, allowing him to do such things to her without any trepidation at the possibility that he might hurt her in some way. He knew she trusted him implicitly.
He took the rock-hard length of his cock in one hand and gave it a couple of strokes. The head was purple and bulbous, the length ridged with veins standing out beneath the silky skin. His balls throbbed with a heavy ache and he longed to bury himself in her silken heat. It was what he’d been dreaming of doing from the moment she’d first walked into his apartment.
With her head twisted so she could watch him, her cheek pressed against the floor, her gaze locked on his face, he slowly ran the head of his cock along the opening of her cunt. He groaned at the heat of her, smearing himself with a mixture of his saliva and her desire. Then he grasped her bottom, one cheek in each hand, and thrust himself deep.
Part One: Blurb
Meet Eric Rutherford, bad boy of the photographic world, guaranteed to bring his models to their knees.
At the top of his game, Eric creates images for five star hotels and portraits for wealthy families.
But Eric has a dream. He longs to create erotic art. He has an eye for a woman’s beauty, but he doesn’t just want to photograph a woman naked, he also wants to tie her up, and down. He wants to bind rope across her breasts, tight enough that the rope leaves an imprint on her skin. He wants to have her on her knees, with her hands handcuffed to her ankles. He wants to whip her rounded pale bottom with a leather flogger, and then photograph the red stripes.
So his search for his perfect model begins and when an advert brings the beautiful, blonde Anya into his apartment, his one fear is that she’ll say no.
Follow erotic photographer, Eric, and model, Anya’s sexy exploits as they push the boundaries of not only their art, but their relationship. How far will they go to fulfil their sexual and artistic desires?
M.K. Elliott is the author of the bestselling short story collection, ‘Rescued.’ A British author, she was born in Devon, England, where she now lives with her husband, three young daughters, two rescue cats, and a crazy Spanish dog. Though she has a degree in Zoology, her true love has always been writing and she now works as a full time author. As well as erotica, she also writes paranormal fiction in the name Marissa Farrar, and has recently published her twelfth novel.
Since ‘Rescued’ hit the number one spot, she’s also had several other titles hit the bestseller list, including another short story collection, ‘Some Love it Hot,’ and her erotic vampire novella, ‘Deadly Beauty.’ Her most recent work is the sexy serial, ‘Model, Wanted.’
M.K. writes everything from contemporary romance to steaming hot erotica, and her love of travel and adventure is her main influence in her stories.
YIPPEEE! I just finished the first draft of To Rome with Lust, the third book in The Mount Series, which will be out late this autumn. I’ve had so much fun romping and sniffing with Liza and Paulo that I thought I’d share a bit of the fun with you. Here is a sneak preview of the sizzling fun.
Blurb To Rome with Lust:
Book three of The Mount trilogy (Click here for The Initiation of Ms Holly Book One |and Fulfilling the Contract Book Two)
The adventure that began with Rita Holly in London, then moved to Las Vegas with Nick Chase continues in Rome when a chance encounter among the Roman ruins has tourist, Liza Calendar, and perfumer, Paulo ‘The Nose’ Delacour, in sexy olfactory heaven. Paulo is the heir apparent of Martelli Fragrance, a roll Rita Holly abdicated to lead the Mount in London. With her magnificently sensitive nose leading the way, Liza uncovers Martelli’s hidden secret –it’s the front for the original Mount, an international secret society with sexual rites into which Paulo is more than willing to initiate her.
Excerpt:
At first Liza thought she had only dreamed such an exquisite scent. She’d certainly never smelled anything so sexy while she was awake. Strange, though because her dreams had always been the only part of her life that was olfactory-free. She sat in the business lounge at LaGuardia, dozing, blocking out the noise and the smell of the busy shuffle. But this smell, was different. This smell was just too delicious to ignore. It intensified, then faded, and she snuffled and inhaled and shifted in her seat.
The place was packed with passengers awaiting a spate of flights going out at nearly the same time. She was there way early, thanks to Carl. But after a miserable night alone in a hotel room, she had no reason to hang around – not after what she’d seen … and smelled. She didn’t want to think about Carl. The fog around her thickened and she drowsed.
She had just slipped back into that space between wakefulness and sleep when the scent wafted over her again. There was no denying it was the primal smell of male. It was the smell of desert lightening, of sage and juniper and thick, dark night. It was the smell of sex – or at least the intimation of sex or what sex might be like with this man.
Jesus, was she really going to have sexy dreams right here in the airport? What next? Would she be rubbing herself against the sofa while all the businessmen and the tourist pretended not to notice? Surely it must have to do with the sex she’d expected to have last night, but didn’t get. Surely it was just her angry unconscious inventing an olfactory fantasy, but God, the man smelled good – better than anyone she’d ever smelled, and she smelled everyone! She inhaled again and her deep intake of scent came out sounding like a sigh. Her lips parted just enough to take in the fullness of the experience, like a cat making an effort to taste that hypnotic smell of masculinity. Her nipples chafed and hardened against her bra until they dominated the front of her sweater with an achy tetchy fullness that matched the tightening she felt between her thighs. It was as though the man stood right over her. She could smell expensive fabric weighted and warmed with the heat of his flesh, his crotch so close made her mouth water. The scent was heavy, thickening, male — driven by passion, and it was so close she could taste it.
The view from the offices of Martelli Fragrance
To Liza the scent was like a magnate and, in the dreamy state in which she floated, she shifted, she uncrossed her legs and leaned forward to draw him to her, wanting nothing so much as to touch, to caress, to experiment on ways to arouse from her dream man more of that delicious scent, ways to bring the smell of his maleness, his arousal to the forefront, next to her breath, next to her mouth.
There was a soft grunt, a startled gasp, and a large hand came down heavily on her shoulder. A desperate clearing of a throat and a slightly accented ‘Pardon me.’
She opened her eyes and found herself nose to crotch with a very expensive suit not quite able to disguise a very nice package. Her fingers were fisted in the edges of the front pockets of his trousers, reeling their wearer ever closer and closer to her salivating mouth. She yelped and practically shoved the guy, who might have fallen if not for the hand resting on her shoulder. ‘Oh my god! I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,’ she gasped. ‘I was dreaming.’ Her face burning and her heart doing a drumroll in her ears, she raised her eyes up and up and up the length of the well-filled out charcoal suit to meet rich caramel eyes looking down at her from beneath thick midnight lashes. Damn it, if she were going to make a fool of herself, she was going to have the courage to apologise eye to eye. But wow! The scent hit her in waves, making her giddy, making her want to sniff like a dog in heat, making her feel wrong-footed and out of focus.
‘Must have been some dream.’ His eyes sparkled and he offered her a half-smile. His warm hands fell to cover hers and disengage them from his pockets. ‘I can’t tell you how sorry I am that I woke you,’ but I’d really hate it if your dream got us both kicked out of the lounge.’ His thumbs brushed over the backs of her knuckles before he released her. ‘Is it all right if I share you sofa? The lounge is quite crowded.’
‘Yes! Of course, please.’ She shifted and rearranged herself, resisting the urge to fold her arms across her perky nipples. Even harder was resisting the urge to pant and sniff. My God, how can anyone smell so good? If an aphrodisiac could be inhaled, his scent would so be that aphrodisiac. She felt moist and swollen against the crotch of her panties, too tender for the weight of her body against to sofa.
‘Are you all right?’ The man’s eyes had darkened with concern. ‘You seem in distress.’
‘Fine! I’m fine,’ she said with enthusiasm that made her sound like a dork. ‘Just outrageously embarrassed.’
‘Don’t be. You made my morning, and gave me something I’ll smile about for what will be a very long, very tedious flight. You sure you’re alright?’
‘You smell amazing,’ she blurted out before she could stop herself, then felt the heat rise to her cheeks again. Jeez! Could she sound any more stupid?
He raised an eyebrow and cocked his head. ‘Thanks. Ode d’ generic hotel soap and shampoo,’ he said.
‘No, it’s not the soap or shampoo, I mean I can smell that too, but …’ What the fuck was it with her? She practically attacked the guy, who handled an embarrassing situation very graciously, all things considered, and now she informed him she’d been sniffing? ‘Never mind. I … like I said, I was dreaming.’
He leaned forward in a wave of scent that made her dizzy with lust. ‘No, please, don’t be embarrassed. I’m very interested in all things olfactory. And I’m very flattered that you like the way I smell.’
‘I’m sorry. I have a sensitive nose.’ She forced a laugh. ‘I guess maybe I’m a little closer to my primate roots than most people. I … I pick up on scent … way more than most people do. Bit of an evolutionary throw-back, I’m afraid.’
The Villa d’Este in Tivoli, after which The Mount’s Villa is patterned.
His smile was practically edible. ‘Humans are mammals. Mammals live through their sense of smell. Humans have just gotten lazy and forgotten how to do that. Real scent is hard to come by in a world that’s been deodorized, sanitized and scrubbed. Apparently you remember.’
Oh, she remembered all right. She remembered so much more than she wished she did at times. She could feel his dark, rich gaze against her, feel his scent baring down on her, now spiked with the cinnamon nip of curiosity.
‘So,’ he leaned still closer and everything in her suddenly felt tetchy and humid. ‘Tell me what you smell?’
God, she knew he was going to ask that. She should have kept her damned mouth shut. To ask her to describe his scent was like asking her to describe what she thought sex with him would be like, and with a scent like his, she could imagine it would be pretty fucking amazing. On the other hand, if he stayed leaning close like this, she’d have a few more seconds to sniff and enjoy before he suspected her of total nutterdom.
‘Don’t be embarrassed,’ he said. ‘As I said, the sense of smell and the way we humans use it is of special interest to me.’
She leaned in and inhaled deeply through her nose. After all he had given her permission to sniff. ‘You smell like a summer lightening storm … at high altitude. She inhaled again and closed her eyes, hearing the catch of his breath. ‘Beneath that, you smell like evergreen and the earth around tree roots.’ His breathing accelerated. She could hear it. She leaned still closer, and the slip and slide of fabric on fabric informed her that he’d done the same until they were nearly touching. She inhaled again. ‘You smell like cat fur in the sun, like a rainstorm on the wind just before it arrives, but that only a little bit, that a distant undertone, that’s because you’re skeptical, and I don’t blame you.’
It became a competition to see who could breathe the hardest. Down below her belly muscles trembled and tensed; in her panties, the clench and release, clench and release had left her swollen and pouty. She opened her eyes just a slit, and there was no mistaking the shape of his growing erection. Her own scent spiked all honey and butter and nutmeg.
‘What else?’ he breathed. ‘Is there more?’
‘Your curiosity smells of cinnamon and there’s a bit of irritation, tart, tangy, almost like lemon.’ Her eyes fluttered open at the same moment his did.
‘Oh it’s not you,’ he said quickly. ‘I mean I’m not irritated at you. It’s the trip. I didn’t plan to take it and now I find out … wait a minute. You can smell emotions?’
‘Kind of,’ she said, trying not to look at his erection, as he shifted to rearrange himself a little less conspicuously. Then she couldn’t resist. ‘What about me? Can you smell me?’ Jesus! Why did she ask such a loaded question?
He squirmed again, which did nothing to hide his needy package. A blush rose to his cheeks. ‘Maybe … Possibly.’ He inhaled a shaky breath through his nose like he was afraid of what he might smell. ‘The more we talk … the more I smell.’ His eyes fluttered shut again. ‘You’re … not wearing perfume.’
‘I never do.’ She eased herself closer, resisting the urge to rest a hand on his thigh. ‘It interferes with other smells.’
He nodded, as though he completely understood. ‘You smell like the sea, but you smell like honey and butter melting over hot bread.’
Did she just whimper? Oh god, please say she didn’t just whimper and shift her bottom against the sofa.
This time he inhaled deeply, boldly, pushing forward on the sofa, his eyes closed, suddenly making no attempt to cover the heavy strain against the front of his trousers, and the cinnamon scent of him spiked and became more peppery. ‘Jesus, I can’t believe we’re doing this?’ His voice was little more than a whisper between parted lips, lips that Liza would only have to lean into to touch with her own. ‘I can’t believe I can smell all that. I’m probably imagining it.’
‘No you’re not. You’re not imagining it,’ she whispered back.
He was suddenly breathing as though he’d just ran a marathon, each breath through his nose, each breath followed by a gulp, almost as though he were eating the scent of her.
The Temple of Hercules in Ostia Antica where Paulo and Liza do a little research.
‘People are looking. We should stop.’ She barely got the words out before he leaned in just a tiny bit further and, in his enthusiasm, his lips brushed hers. Everything spiked in a sharp stab of scent that went straight to her pussy, as they both gasped and sat back, eyes wide, fingers pressed to lips. A flight to Paris was called over the intercom immediately after one to Frankfurt and, in the jostling and shifting and gathering of belongings, no one was paying any attention to them. Though she wasn’t sure it would have made any difference even if they’d suddenly been center stage. Their gaze locked on each other, cheeks flushed, chests heaving, they sat locked in a moment so tight, so full that its breaking apart was inevitable. It was ridiculous. She was seconds away from coming, and his cock was about to burst his trousers and his lips, my god his lips, she could think of so many places on her body she wanted those lips.
‘I have to know,’ he gasped. ‘Surely you want to know too.’ Then he did the unthinkable. He curled his fingers into the back of her hair and pulled her to him. This time their lips met with a clash of teeth and a gasped swallow of oxygen that transitioned into parted lips and darting tongues and an absolute explosion of scent. If he had smelled amazing by himself, if his scent had sharpened hers to the cutting edge of orgasm, then the mixing and blending that happened when they touched, when those two scents came together was shattering. ‘I’ve never smelled anything like it,’ she breathed into his mouth.
‘Me neither,’ He bit her lower lip and tugged and their blended smell became darker, more spicy, tones of earth and sea, pepper and honey and my god the guy could kiss!
Blurb The Life of Anna Part 1: 
Here’s an excerpt from my latest erotic historical novella Bound by the Buccaneer
Rescued by the Buccaneer
About the Author
