Create Your Love Story – A Guest Post by Aleigha Siron (@aleighasiron) #findingmyhighlander

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Finish the love story you’re reading and then create your own.

Plan the perfect interlude with your partner tonight.

 

Set the scene:

Dim the lights, or light flickering candles.

Prepare a bowl of peaches and strawberries dipped in chocolate.

Keep extra chocolate (not too hot,) for other taste delights.

Pop the champagne. Keep two glasses full for toasts through the night.

Dab champagne on all delectable body parts aching for passionate kisses.

Have your partner do the same.

If you’re the beer and pizza type, that could work too.

 

Communicate without words—love through touch.

Close your eyes and trace the contours of your lover’s face, neck, arms, and hands.

Pick your favorite light massage oil. Take turns. Leave fear or shyness in another room.

Swirl your name on your lover’s skin with the tip of your finger.

Start slow and easy, with your hands on your lover’s body, build heat and pressure.

Open the gates, let passion rule, surrender to enchantment.

When words come, rejoice with praise, honor, adoration.

Laugh, cry, remember why you fell in love.

 

Love is the greatest gift we bestow on another.

Don’t wait another day because today is all we have to share.

Pick a song. Lose yourself in the sounds and sensations.

Live your love story.

*****

Excerpt:

“Lass, can I help you?” His voice was softer than the others, his stance relaxed, composed, despite the dirt and blood splattered over his massive arms and clothing. He seemed to be a quiet, gentle man, though physically as imposing as the others.

“You could bring me my bag.”

He moved his hand from behind him and cautiously extended her mother’s old carpetbag. “Do I need to check it for weapons?” A slight crinkle lifted the corner of his mouth. A piece of leather cord tied wavy, light-brown hair at the nape of his neck and tight braids spilled alongside sharp, scruffy cheeks. His eyes were dark and shadowed.

“Thank you…it’s Rabbie, correct?”

“Aye,” he nodded.

Andra granted him a guarded smile. “I’ll pull no further weapons if you promise to be kind.” The slight attempt at humor from both of them eased the tension coiled in her gut.

He swept an arm gracefully in front of him and bowed, “Always, m’lady, as I learned at me mother’s knee.” Then he left her to tend the horses.

She searched her bag for the washcloth, hand towel, and first aid kit she always carried when traveling. The washcloth came to hand first. She dipped it into the cold water and wiped the dried and clotted blood from her face and hair. Then she dunked her head in the pool several more times.

“I seem to be awake,” she whispered, just for the comfort on her own voice. “My surroundings feel solid enough,” she pounded her fist on the dirt, “so it must be real. Accept it, Andra, and decide what to do next.”

She could hear the men speaking Gaelic, hushed yet clearly distraught about the condition of their clansman. They gathered near another pool of water several yards from where she knelt. She watched them over her shoulder for a few minutes struggling to fit the scene into her new reality. A million questions rose in her throat.

“Not now. Patience and observation are what’s required. All will be revealed in time.” What a stupid cliché.

Should she offer her help with their friend; would they accept it? She could not sit here and do nothing when one of them was seriously injured. Besides, anxiety always spurred her to take action. Her father had always said, “Move, keep busy, and don’t let dust gather under your feet.” With her father’s words ringing in her ears, she approached the men cautiously, keeping her eye on the mean one, Struan.

“May I be of assistance?” She stood with her feet firmly planted on the hard-packed, dirt floor, her head held high, one hand pressed flat against her side, the other rested on the cross dangling on her chest. It took an extreme effort to control her trembling body. Her palms moistened with sweat. She steadied her focus on Kendrick. His strong hands moved carefully over his brother’s body. The mean one harrumphed and growled.

A growl? Really?

Kendrick looked up, concern etched on his face. His dark, probing eyes bore through her. “Are you a healer, then?” he asked.

“Not a healer exactly, but I have cared for ill and injured persons and have some training in first aid. I wish to help if you’ll permit me.”

“I dinnae ken your meaning. What’s the first aid of which you speak? As you can see, we give him aid, but if you can do anything to help save my brother’s life, I will gladly accept your offer.”

The mean one growled again. “Don’t trust her, she’s the enemy and will just as soon slit his throat.”

Ignoring the slur, she continued, “Have you determined the extent of his injuries?”

“Aye, his shoulder is dislocated, several fingers broken, which we have straightened and bound as best we’re able. We need to stitch multiple, deep wounds, and he’s lost a lot of blood, though blood no longer flows freely.”

The injured man lay on a plaid, stripped completely naked, his kilt torn away from his battered body. Mud, blood, and all manner of vile debris caked the hard planes of his bronzed chest. Andra couldn’t identify the severity or location of all his injuries. He moaned but appeared unconscious, or so she assumed, since he hadn’t opened his eyes. Clumps of dried blood crusted over wounds on one leg and foot. Dark, matted refuse covered the entire other leg.

His manhood lay flaccid against his thigh, and none of the men seemed concerned about his state of undress in front of a strange female. She stood quietly, waiting for several breaths.

*****

FindingMyHighlanderbyAleighaSiron-200Blurb:

On a windswept cliff above San Francisco Bay in 2013, 27 year-old Andra Cameron, the last member of her family, prepares to scatter her family’s ashes to the wind. An earthquake catapults her to the Scottish Highlands in 1705. She wakes, aching and bloody, to the sound of horses thundering through the trees. Terrified and with no other options, Andra accompanies these rugged warriors. She can’t deny the undeniable attraction that ignites between herself and the handsome but gruff Kendrick. Will she trust him to provide protection in the harsh reality of 18th century Scotland and with her secret, or will she find a way to return home to the 21st century?

Laird Kendrick MacLean and his men, escaping a recent skirmish with their worst nemeses, clan Cameron and their Sassenach allies, are shocked to find an injured, unprotected female in their path. How could she not know her kin and how had she landed in the middle of the wilderness alone? His men suspect she’s a spy or a witch. Still, Kendrick will not abandon an injured woman, even if she speaks unusually accented English, and her name is Cameron. Will he ransom her to others or will their closed hearts open to each other? Although he questions her every utterance, this feisty, outspoken woman inflames his desire like no other.

Buy Links

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Nookhttp://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/finding-my-highlander-aleigha-siron/1123595128

Applehttps://itunes.apple.com/us/book/finding-my-highlander/id1097148126?mt=11

Smashwordshttps://www.smashwords.com/books/view/625227

Kobo: https://store.kobobooks.com/ebook/finding-my-highlander

*****

AleighaSironAuthor Bio and Media Links

After more than twenty years writing and delivering management and other training programs for modest-sized to Fortune Five Hundred companies, and ten years developing community crisis-intervention training programs, Aleigha turned her writing efforts to her first loves, fiction, and poetry.  Her poetry has appeared in numerous anthologies and university presses over the past few decades.  Following a difficult period in her life, she discovered solace in romance novels that inspired her to write in this genre.  As she says, “who doesn’t desire a guaranteed happy-ever-after scenario?” Always interested in the concept of time-travel, she knew her first few stories would follow that theme.

When not writing, her trusty four-legged companion/helper, Strider, accompanies her on sunset walks along the shore. During these quiet walks under an expansive sky, with the whoosh of waves across the sand and her gaze drifting over the rolling sea, her best glimmers of inspiration come to mind.  Following the recent discovery of distant Scottish ancestors, she embarked on a trip to the Highlands. Although she had already developed the characters for Finding My Highlander, her trip to the Highlands enriched the characters and enhanced the story direction. This is her first full-length romance novel.  Aleigha is working on a prequel to Finding My Highlander, and another time-travel novel set in a later period.

WWW (Aleigha’s WebPage): http://aleighasiron.com/

Aleigha Siron’s Book page at Tirgearr Publishing: http://www.tirgearrpublishing.com/authors/Siron_Aleigha/finding-my-highlander.htm

Tirgearr Publishing Home Page: http://www.tirgearrpublishing.com/index.htm

Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/AleighaSiron

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/people/Aleigha-Siron/

*****

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The Psychology of Dreams 101 Part 12

Psychology of Dreams cover12985576_1537272663241009_8777292825525497968_nAfter a week’s hiatus in which I was 30,000 feet above the Greenland — at least for part of it, I’m happy to offer a new episode of The Psychology of Dreams 101. When last we left our intrepid dreamers, a strap-on-clad Leah had just taken charge. As we near the climax of our tale (you see what I did there 😉 Leah does way more than take charge by taking a risk that may cost them all dearly.

What if you got punished when you didn’t get your dreams right? That’s the dilemma our heroin, Leah, and her psychology of dreams teacher, Al. The Psychology of Dreams 101 is a romp into the sexy unconscious as Leah Kent takes a Psychology of Dreams adult education class, only to discover that the required Dream Journal leads to some seriously kinky night journeys.

 

 

If you’ve missed Episode 11, find it here. 

 

 

Chapter 12 Into the Abyss

Leah felt Al’s guttural groan against the dildo, the vibration of which penetrated deep behind her pubic bone, the urgent sound of his need penetrating her as surely as she planned to penetrate him and, she realized for the first time that she would penetrate him, that she could actually do it. Not only could she, but she wanted to, needed to if she were ever to escape the dream. But the sound of his growing arousal was enough to shift her attention from what Al was doing to the strap-on to what Dr. Clyde was now doing to Al’s ass. He knelt on the floor behind him, hunched at an unnatural angle because of Al’s position in front of her. To accommodate Clyde’s efforts, Al had lifted his buttocks as high as he could and still continue his ministrations to her dildo. Clyde spat onto his fingers and teased and worried Al’s tight backside with little circular strokes and tiny intimations of breaching. With the other hand, he caressed and kneaded Al’s butt cheeks, easing them apart to expose more fully the dark clench and release.

“Al was my lover once,” Clyde said, his voice thick with arousal, even in his efforts to sound matter-of-fact. “Did he tell you that? Did he tell you we were lovers before Diana?”

Al flinched and his jaws tightened around the dildo until the muscles below his cheekbone twitched, and Leah was glad the strap-on was not flesh and blood.

“No. No he didn’t tell me that,” she replied, cupping Al’s face, stroking his cheek until he relaxed, until the tension left his shoulders, and he resumed his efforts. Clearly the good doctor’s little reveal was something Al didn’t really want discussed.

“Not that it matters,” she said, curling her fingers in Al’s hair again, this time more gently. “I’m not one to judge people by their pasts.”

“We were good together. Our situation was ideal,” Clyde continued. “Until Diana came between us. We both wanted her, didn’t we Al?”

Al didn’t respond but doubled his efforts against the dildo, and once again she stroked him, this time along his neck and throat. But Clyde kept talking in spite of Al’s discomfort – maybe because of it.

“You see, ours was just a relationship of convenience. We provided a much-needed service to each other, and it didn’t hurt that it was really good, did it Al?”

She wished Clyde would shut up, but he continued. “As you can imagine, we didn’t have much of a life, either of us. There was no time for it with our research. Then one night, we stayed over at the facility. Well actually it was closer to morning than it was night. We dreamed together. That was the first time we realized we could, and it was hotter than hell – the dream was, I mean, and we were in it together. It was the most amazing foreplay you can imagine, Leah, because there are no limits to what you can do in a dream. You can be Superman. You can fly, you can breathe beneath water; you can even have two cocks if it strikes your dream fancy. And when we came out of it, well we all but fucked each other’s brains out. You can’t imagine what it felt like, really you can’t.”

It certainly wasn’t the dream-sharing package she was having, Leah thought. In her dream there was no satisfaction to be had, and she was stuck with these two guilt riddled bastards and the ghost of Diana. Speaking of …

“Diana, well she was a grad student in biology.” Clyde continued. “It was love at first sight for both of us, wasn’t it Al? We both fantasized about what it would be like to dream with her, what the sex would be like afterwards. It became an obsession, I suppose, maybe even a little bit of a competition to see who could get her attention. Of course in the meantime, we were fucking each other just to, you know, get rid of all that tension.” He offered a little chuckle tinged with bitterness that Leah could almost taste. “I was the one who decided to tell her about our experiments, about the sex, about how powerful the dream was. Well,” he said softly, “you know how persuasive I was. I had no trouble getting her to dream with me. The problem was getting her to stop. Getting her to stop …” He shoved a finger home hard and dark moon image_xl_6338206Al flinched. Leah decided it was time to take back control.

“Shut up Clyde. I don’t care if the two of you fucked a whole damn football team in your bloody research. All I care about is getting out of this goddamned dream. Al stand up,” she commanded.

He pulled away, stumbling to his feet, his hand resting protectively against his erection. She kissed him hard and deep and demanding until he yielded and gasped into her mouth, and she heard Clyde’s mirroring gasp in reply. Then she took Al’s hand and guided him, trousers still down around his knees, to bend over the desk. She carefully positioned him so that his arms were stretched above his head, fingers curled around the far end of the desk, his hips jutting over the opposite end enough so that his cock wasn’t trapped beneath his body. She grabbed Clyde by the hair and tugged him, still on his knees to kneel behind Al. “Now then, I asked you to make him ready. I didn’t ask you to hurt him. Nor did I ask for your commentary.” She nodded to Al’s exposed backside. “Go on. If the two of you were lovers, then you know what to do, what he’ll like, what will make it easier for him to accomodate me and enjoy me. And Clyde, I don’t give a shit if this is your dream of not. As long as you’re here, I will punish you if you disobey me again.” To emphasize her point, she gave him a brisk thwak across his half-exposed dapper ass with the flogger, making sure he felt the sting. He gasped and grabbed at his crotch, and she admired the bright pink welts she had somehow known exactly how to administer.

“Don’t touch your cock,” she said. “Do as I say or I’ll see that you never get any satisfaction in this dream.”

The man flinched as though she had gut punched him, and she suddenly got it. She totally got it. “That’s it, isn’t it, Clyde? You haven’t had any satisfaction since your last big dream encounter, have you?”

His lack of a reply was all the answer she needed. “And that’s why you’re so eager to help Al and me with our little dream dilemma. He struggled to meet her gaze, color blazing across his cheeks, but he said nothing.

“Well then, if you’re here, you’ll do as I say and we’ll all hope for the best.”

And just like that, the good doctor got down to some serious rimming, and the stretching of his cock confirmed his enjoyment as well as Al’s, who arched his back until his bottom was high in the air, hips shifting and thrusting back against Clyde’s laving tongue and forward against the empty space between his cock and the desk.

“Surely there must be a better place to punish him, to punish both of you, than on your classroom desk, Al,” she said, and suddenly she was aware that the power had completely shifted in the dream. It was entirely in her hands, and whatever it was that needed to happen, it was also entirely up to her to intuit. “How about we take this little dream to the place that you both find the most punishing. What do you say boys?”

“No!” came the duet that just barely past both of their lips before they all found themselves on the rooftop of a skyscraper in the dead of night.

“Not here, Leah. This is not the place, this is not a dungeon. This is not Al’s dream,” Dr. Clyde’s voice was breathless, laced with fear and uncertainty she’d never heard in him before. “Anyplace, I’ll go anyplace you want to take us, only just not here.”

“Yes, Clyde. Here.” Both men were now naked and her black leather bustier and boots had been replaced with what appeared to be a body hugging chain-mail sort of armor exposing her breasts, buttocks and crotch. The strap-on she now wore matched, but the dildo was bigger, thicker, stainless steel.

From somewhere in the depths of the unconscious, she had conjured a St. Andrews cross to which Al was now strapped spread-eagle, suspended just at the edge of the building so that even secured as he was, his bare toes curled over the edge into nothingness and the breeze from the abyss below tussled his hair. Clyde knelt with his knees at the edge, his hands tied behind his back with his own necktie.
“You’ve blamed each other and you’ve blamed yourselves,” she said separating Al’s ass cheeks and plunging home hard, hard enough to make him cry out, even as he yielded with an ease that said the good doctor had done his job, but then this was a dream, and she wanted him to cry out. She wanted him to feel her anger, her frustration and being dragged into their guilt. “I don’t care who’s to blame.” She withdrew and thrust again. “I’m sorry for both of you.” Another thrust. “I’m sorry for Diana, but I have nothing to do with any of this and what I want is out of your goddamned dream.”

She thrust several more times before she realized Clyde was shouting over and over again, “it should have been me! It
should have been me! It should have been me!”

“But it wasn’t you.” She gave one more hard thrust and Al came in great gasping bursts, his semen painting the night f7c97536836dc44ea7a1faaa02ab1a6asky of the dreamscape like the tail of a comet. “It wasn’t either one of you, and it wasn’t your fault either. Diana did what she did, and no one could have stopped her. But since neither of you can get past it without dragging in innocent bystanders, I’m here to punish both of you. Maybe then you’ll forgive yourselves for what wasn’t your fault and just get on with it.” She pulled free of Al, whose restraints had disappeared along with the cross and, with the flat of her hand, she pushed him off the edge, him still coming in great heavy bursts.

Then she turned to Dr. Clyde staring in shock at Al’s endless descent. She drew him to his feet, still teetering on the edge, then untied his hands and kissed him deeply before pushing him over the edge to follow Al into the abyss of the dreamscape.

“Make your peace, both of you,” she called after them, “and then set me free.”

The Ruby Glow: Inviting Everyone to Sit Down for the Self Love is in the Air Blog Hop!

Tabitha's Self love is in the Air Hop

 

 

It’s May! That means it’s Masturbation Month, and this Merry Month of May is even more special because it also means that it’s time for the Self Love is in the Air blog hop with prizes, fun and tales of self love by some of your favourite writers. the Self Love is in the Air blog hop is not only celebrating the personal touch, as it were, but even more importantly, celebrating Brit Babes’ very own Tabitha Rayne’s wonderful new invention, the Ruby Glow sit-down sex toy, now sold by Rocks On and nominated for 2016 ETO Awards Most Innovative New Sex Toy!

 

 

And it’s no wonder the Ruby Glow is up for an ETO award. Just read what the Rocks Off website says about the Ruby ETO_AWARDS_2016_NOMINEEGlow:

“A saddle style non-penetrative toy, designed to stimulate your whole vulva. The Ruby Glow has a ribbed clitoral stimulator and vibrating vaginal/perineal mound which sit snugly in place anchored by your pubic bone. Dual vibrations are controlled by buttons at the front for easy access, putting you in control of your orgasm. Made from firm yet velvety silicone, Ruby Glow can be used through clothing but is skin safe to enable full contact if desired. The Ruby Glow has many unique contours making it also ideal for using against your body as a traditional clitoral stimulator or massager. Let the potent sensual rhythms of Ruby Glow be your guide as you feel your body respond and move to its powerful dual heartbeats, seductively taking you to your ultimate hands free orgasm.”

 

 

 

I’ve been privileged to be one of the testers for the Ruby Glow, and I have to say it’s right up my alley, since I have a little bit of a fetish for hands-off getting off. I’m especially fond of secret self pleasure in the back of busses that are, well perhaps not the best maintained. In fact, I had the total hands off secret wank in the back of the bus in mind when I wrote my poem, The Dodgy Bus for Ashley Lister’s fabulous Coming Together In Verse anthology, which was long-listed for the Saboteur Award. Now with Tabitha’s fabulous Ruby Glow causing people all over the UK to sit down and take notice, I can’t help but feel that I’m the not the only one who liked to sit down on the job. Enjoy!

 

 

And don’t forget to comment for a chance to win your own Ruby Glowbritbabes_badge_1

Just follow this link to find all the other lovely folk taking part-

http://tabitharayne.com/2016/05/self-love-air-blog-hop / and you could win some incredible prizes- including a Ruby Glow by Rocks Off and paperback copies of Sexy Just Walked Into Town by Brit Babes, Chemical S[ex] edited by Oleander Plume and A Clockwork Butterfly by Tabitha herself – and most exciting of all- some of Tabitha’s beautiful artwork is up for grabs.

 

 

AND!!! I’d like to add a copy of my travel novella, Migrations , which opens with a filthy self love scene, to the pot. Just leave a comment for a chance to win.

 

 

Coming together in verse Ashley-ListerCTIV2-200x300The Dodgy Bus

I always ride the dodgy bus no matter my destination.

Though the windows rattle and the floorboards shake,

I ride without hesitation.

 

Ignoring the stench of the oil and grease, I ride with enthusiasm,

Cuz it’s only on the dodgy bus I get the best orgasm.

 

Once onboard, I head for the back, as always is my habit,

Where the seats vibrate and shiver and shake like a really Rampant Rabbit.

 

My man-spread’s quite unladylike, but I open my legs real wide,

Ignoring the stares and the dirty looks. I’m only along for the ride.

 

While others get quite anxious, their stops anticipating,

No one ever guesses I’m just here masturbating.

 

The lack of good shocks makes my tits shake, the vibrations, they tickle my clit.12340460-urban-sketch-sign-with-image-bus-stop-and-man

I’m an expert at finding the sweet spot on the naugahyde seat where I sit.

 

I don’t care if it’s cheap or it’s pricy, don’t mind if it costs a good sum.

Though I may not get where I’m going, I always have a good cum.

 

***

 

Don’t forget to catch up with all the other blog hop blogs while you’re at it!

An Unexpected Encounter with Alonso Darlington 2nd Entry

I first shared my little encounter with Alonso Darlington when the novella, Landscapes was published as a part of the wonderful m/m Brit Boys: On Boys boxed set. For those of you who’ve read my online serial, In The Flesh, Alonso is a familiar character, but his story starts long before In The Flesh. and Landscapes is his first public appearance and, one — as you’ll see from the tale I began to share with you last week, he isn’t overly happy about. I felt with the release of Landscapes as a stand-alone novella coming up very shortly, it might serve as a warning to all of you  who choose to delve into the private life of a vampire. I’m risking Alonso’s displeasure again by sharing the tale, which I began last week. I’ll share the last entry just before the release of Landscapes, the novella, on May 24.

 

Read and be warned

 

An Unexpected Encounter with Alonso Darlington: 2nd Entry

 

 

LandscapesI remember only one time in my life when I woke up with no memory of what had happened to me, and that was in the recovery room following a major surgery. This time, I woke battling a heavy duvet and found myself in a … tent? It was winter. Why would I possibly be in a tent? By then I’d regained enough of my wits that I realized I was in a bed, a heavy antique bed with velvet curtains pulled around it to shut out the light, and the tight little space around me smelled of strange spices laced with a musky outdoorsy scent I couldn’t quite place. A peek outside the curtain revealed sharply-angled sunlight falling anemically across stone floors and Turkish carpets. The heavy wardrobe and bureau in the room matched the dark wood of the bed. I appeared to be alone.

 

It was then that the memories flooded back to me, and my heart battered my ribs as I grabbed for my throat, cursing in spastic breathless whispers. With trembling fingers, I examined the place where Alonso Darlington’s lips had been, where his tongue had been, but there were no bite marks I could feel. Christ! Surely he wouldn’t bite me. Why the hell would he bite me? The Alonso Darlington I knew – well the one I’d written about at least – would not have brought me to his own home and bit me against my will. But then until last night, I thought Darlington nothing but a character I’d dreamed up for a story.

 

I stumbled from the bed, caught my foot in the duvet and fell on my arse. A frantic look around showed an open door through which I could see the dark blue tiles of a bathroom. When I couldn’t find my clothes, I wrapped myself in the duvet and stumbled to the sink. A close inspection in the mirror showed no evidence of bite marks. Then I remembered that the neck wasn’t the only place that Alonso bit people. I dropped the duvet, then twisting and turning like a contortionist, I checked every part of me I could see in the mirror. Then I plopped down on the edge of the claw foot tub to check my legs and groin.

 

‘Don’t worry, K D, he didn’t bite you.’

 

I yelped and nearly upended myself in the tub as I looked up to find Talia standing in the door dressed in a red cashmere sweater and black jeans. I quickly grabbed for the duvet to cover myself.

 

She shook her head and offered me a wicked smile. ‘If he had bitten you, he’d have wanted you to know in detail exactly what it felt like.’ She leaned closer and the smile became dangerous. ‘He’d have wanted you to enjoy the experience completely.’

 

She looked me up and down. ‘Me, I wouldn’t have cared if you’d known what I was doing to you, but just for your peace of mind,’ she leaned closer still, and once again I nearly fell into the tub trying to avoid her touch, ‘I was otherwise occupied last night.’

 

I stood up clutching the duvet tightly around me. ‘Then what happened?’ I managed to sound almost calm. ‘Because I don’t remember anything after he …’

 

Her lips quirked into something that wasn’t a smile exactly, and I felt a chill snake down my spine. ‘You’ll have to ask Alonso.’ She nodded back to the room. ‘Cook has made breakfast,’ she chuckled, ‘though you’ve slept half the day away. You’ll find your bag has been unpacked and your clothes hung in the wardrobe. I’ll take you to Alonso when you’re ready. In the meantime make yourself at home.’ She turned and left.

 

I ate like a starving woman, like someone who had been … kept up all night. But surely I would have remembered if that had been the case. After a quick shower, I discovered that my make-up bag and toiletries were on the dressing table near the big window but my shoulder bag and my mobile were nowhere to be found. That left me with an uneasy feeling. Though Raymond had known I was coming to Cumbria, he would be worried if he didn’t hear from me.

 

Once dressed, I was surprised to find the door to the room not locked. I thought about making a run for it, but one look out the window at the frozen landscape with the heavy cloudbank rolling in over the fells, and the fact that I also couldn’t find the heavy coat from last night made me reconsider. On top of that, I was reminded again that I had no idea where I was, nor had I recognized the route by which I’d arrived last night. I thought I’d recognized the hulking shape of Scafell Pike from the window, but even that was lost behind the cloudbank. I was completely turned around.

 

 

S6300754

There was no time for a Plan B. Talia shoved open the door without a knock, inspected me with a gaze that made my knees weak, then she smiled. ‘Come on. Alonso’s waiting for you.’ What choice did I have? I followed her into an unadorned stone corridor that smelled dusty and muddy with the scent of heavy renovations in progress rather than the scent of age. She led me down a steep stone staircase claustrophobic in its tight twists and turns, and treacherous in its smoothly warn steps. The deeper the stairs descended, the closer the walls became. I’m not fond of tight places, and by the time the space opened out into a pleasant well-renovated sub-basement, I was having a bit of trouble breathing.

 

‘It’s several hours till dusk,’ Talia said, noticing my distress. ‘That being the case, this is where you’ll have to meet Alonso.’ She offered a throaty giggle. ‘You were right in your written accounts, hon, no coffins, not for Alonso at least.’ Without preamble, she opened a heavy wooden door that screeched against the stone floor, stepped back and nodded me in. I stumbled and nearly ran into Reese who was leaving in a hurry. He didn’t seem pleased.

 

He grabbed me by the shoulders to keep me from stumbling. ‘I’m very sorry about this, Ms Grace,’ he offered Alonso a hard glare, ‘but he’s a pigheaded prick at times.’ Then he glared at Talia and shoved his way past. I could hear the clumping of his heavy boots receding as he ascended the stairs. Then I turned to see Alonso fighting back a smile.

 

‘I’m afraid Reese is right, K D,’ he said, giving me the same once-over Talia had only minutes before. ‘I am a pigheaded prick at times, and until I get to the bottom of how you uncovered even my existence let alone such a … vivid view into my private life, I shall continue to be so.’ He nodded to a wingback leather chairs in front of the huge desk behind which he now sat. I settled reluctantly, more than happy for the comforting expanse of the desk between us.

 

For a long moment, he studied me without speaking, then he leaned over his desk and offered a genuine smile. ‘Did you sleep well, K D?’

 

Strangely enough I realized I had slept very well, or at least I certainly felt very well rested. Before I could answer, he shot Talia a quick glance and continued. ‘Did you have … pleasant dreams.’

 

The skin on my arms rippled with gooseflesh. I shivered in spite the warmth of the room, which looked more like the library of a wealthy English manor house than a room in the sub basement of a crumbling ruin. ‘I don’t remember dreaming at all,’ I said, glancing over my shoulder as Talia came forward and settled into the chair next to mine.

 

Alonso made no response, and neither did Talia, but I could feel all eyes on me. I forced myself to sit perfectly still as though I wasn’t bothered by the gaze of two alpha predators who could, and might have already, done anything they wanted to me, who now were staring at me like I was lunch. Of course I couldn’t do anything about my galloping heart nor my sweaty palms.

 

At last Alonso heaved a sigh, and I found myself wondering if vampires breathed. I’d read conflicting stories, and in all honesty, I couldn’t remember if the Alonso in my account breathed or not. Christ, if I’d had any idea I’d be meeting him in person I’d have paid more attention. My thoughts were quickly refocused completely on his person when I realized he had somehow, in a heartbeat, come from behind the desk to lean over me, and I definitely felt his breath on my face, warm and sort of spicy, a scent that brought with it intimations of wild remote places. I froze. It wasn’t like I could have Dale Head Pivotal location for Elemental Firedone anything else. He mantled me as though he were a bird of prey and I was a fresh kill.

 

‘You’re telling the truth,’ he said, smoothing my hair behind my ears and cupping my face so I had no choice but to meet his gaze, an act which in and of itself felt like falling off a cliff on the high fells. ‘You honestly believe the story you’ve written about Reese and me is just that, just a work of fiction.’

 

I fought for breath. ‘I would never violate anyone by putting their private life into my stories. Ever.’ There was no keeping my voice steady. In truth, there was no keeping my body steady. I was shaking like a leaf.

 

‘No. Of course you wouldn’t,’ he said, his thumb gently raking across my bottom lip, which did nothing to ease my breathing. His dark eyes flashed over to Talia. ‘Which brings us back to the question at hand. How could you have possibly known the truth of what you wrote?’

 

Talia only shrugged and held his gaze. ‘Interrogate me if you want. I told you it wasn’t me. If I’d visited her bed and shared with her, I’d have taken a great deal of pleasure in sharing it with you, Alonso.’

 

What happened next I still can’t believe, and it’s not easy for me to write about. I’m used to writing sex and violence in fiction because I’m always safely removed from those acts that evolve in my imagination. But this … this was an encounter in which I found myself the accidental voyeur, way more up close and personal than I ever hope to be again.

 

In a heartbeat, Alonso pulled Talia up from her chair. I heard her breath catch, heard the bones in her neck pop in the violence of his efforts. Then with a single tug of his fist, he ripped open the front of her sweater and shoved it aside. I think I might have yelped. Not that anyone noticed. Talia gasped, but in that gasp I heard no surprise. She was naked beneath the torn cashmere, and in less than a heartbeat, Alonso pulled her into a back-breaking embrace, cupped her right breast and … brought his mouth down onto the swell of it high above her heavy nipple.

 

One of them, maybe both of them growled, and as he jerked her closer, I could see the garnet welling up of her blood just before his tongue slid over it, just before his mouth closed around it in a sound that was not unlike a lover’s passionate kiss. And then, I swear, the color of her eyes changed just before she closed them and fisted one well-manicured hand into his hair effectively holding him to her in an act no less intimate and no less violent than his own. Her other hand snaked around his waist and burrowed beneath his tailored black shirt and up his spine.

 

His response to her touch on his bare flesh was a quick, but violent convulsing of muscles until I feared he’d break bones. Then he groaned and shivered. I remember wondering at that moment if her touch had made him orgasm. I remember thinking I should look away, that I should leave them to whatever strange disturbing intimacy this was, but I couldn’t look away. I knew at that moment that to do so was physically impossibly. Then, to my horror, I felt as though I were the third party in the joining. No, that’s not really a good explanation. I felt as though I wasn’t there at all. I felt as though one second I was Talia being bled by Alonso’s powerful predatory kiss, being nursed upon by his warm lips; and the next I was Alonso being touched, in far deeper places than his bare flesh, being taken over by the succubus. And when I was sure I would pass out from that strange sense of terror and arousal that I couldn’t quite imagine existing in the same instant, Alonso pulled away, stumbled backward against his desk, his eyes still locked on the succubus, and Talia fell back into the chair with a little sigh.

 

Wiping his mouth and bracing himself on the edge of the desk, he moved back to his own chair. Talia sat straight and square shouldered next to me catching her breath. She made no effort to cover herself and I could see the bite marks bruised blue and bright red above her nipple. ‘Are you satisfied now?’ she asked, sounding as though she’d just been britboysonboys cover imageout fell running.

 

He scrubbed a hand over his face, then looked from her to me and back again. ‘If not you, then who, Talia? How the hell did she know?’

 

‘Don’t be daft, Alonso. You know how. You just don’t want to admit it.’ Then she stood and exited the room with way more dignity than someone who had had her shirt ripped off by a vampire should have been able to manage. It was only with the door screaking closed across the stone floor that I suddenly remembered, I was alone with Alonso Darlington.

 

 

Preorder Landscapes now

Available for download 24th May

Show Me, Sir by Sonni de Soto (@sonni_de  @SinfulPress) #romance #BDSM #kindle #kindleunlimited

Show-Me-Sir-KindleBlurb:

This novel contains explicit sexual scenes including bondage and voyeurism.

Max Wells is a ball-busting, ass-kicking testament to female empowerment, who’s yet to meet the person who can push her down.

Until she meets a man she only knows as Sir.

Shamelessly deviant, Hayato knows exactly what Max thinks of Dominants like him. So ready to dismiss his lifestyle, she’s the type to assume she knows everything about it and him after one cursory glance from the outside in. But, looking at Max—at her intelligence and passion—he can see more in her than the misconceptions she’s deliberately blinding herself with.

And, determined, he plans to show her more.

Max and Hayato engage in a dance of wit, will, and seduction as they negotiate roles, rewrite rules, and learn the true meaning of empowerment.

But, just as their game heats up, it gets used against them. Seeking to punish them with their play, someone threatens to drag their private lives out into the public spotlight.

With high stakes and bitter scandal looming over their heads, Max and her Sir will have to work together to show that what the world thinks they are does not define who they are.

*****

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Excerpt:

“I’m looking at you, Max.” She watched his firm mouth – his tongue and teeth – form the words. “I like looking at you.” His smooth voice flowed over her senses. “I want to touch you.”

Her breath caught and her eyes opened wide.

Okay, too much. That was way too much.

Having him there, having him watch her, felt wicked and dangerous and was toeing an erotic line that Max had never known.

She couldn’t imagine what having him touch her would be like.

She wasn’t sure she wanted to know.

“You said you wouldn’t,” she reminded him, wavering between want and worry.

“I said I wouldn’t pay to do so,” he clarified, his hand reaching out to stroke a fallen strand of her vibrant hair. “When I touch you, it won’t be for any other reason than I want to and you want me to as well.” Curling the strand around his fingers, he tested its texture and feel. “Tell me you want me to.”

She shivered. It didn’t feel safe – him behind her, fully dressed while she was half-naked. It didn’t feel safe to be in a room full of mirrors with Hallie somewhere in the store. It was frightening and intense. Frightening because it was so intense.

“Imagine it.” He let his hand slide through the thick mass of her hair. “Think about how good it’ll be when I place my hands all over your soft body. Think about how wet I can make you, not just slick but soaked.” He paused, his gaze stroking south. “You’re already more than halfway there, aren’t you?” He leaned in close, his hot breath caressing the delicate, sensitive curve of her ear. “Just say the words. Tell me what we both know you want.”

God, she did. God help her, she wanted this man to touch her, to stroke her, to fuck her. He made her body feel weak with need and consumed by mindless desire. She wanted him to touch. She wanted to touch. She wanted to strip and be stripped and to drown in the promise his hot gaze held.

“Say it.”

She wanted to. So badly.

She opened her mouth. “No.”

She wanted him, everything he was offering her, so much her body hummed with it.

And it scared her.

What kind of woman – what kind of modern, independent, strong, and smart woman – was she that she would let him have this much power over her? Was a word away from becoming a puddle of sexual putty in his hands? He was turning her into something she’d spent her entire life rejecting.

What was wrong with her?

Her attention snapped back, her worry turning into panic, then an unexpectedly feral snarl, low and perilous, rumbled deep in his throat. She flinched, afraid to look at him. Afraid to move or speak or breathe while the beast inside the man clenched.

She’d never felt so naked, so vulnerable and helpless, in her life.

Finally, she braved a look up, readying herself for his ire, sure he would storm ahead or storm away.

But he just nodded stiffly, his face and body held rigidly in control. She watched his nostrils flare and a muscle in his jaw tick. The fire in his eyes burned even as cold ice hardened them. They narrowed on her predatorily.

Slowly, each movement precise and exact, he reached inside his jacket, pulling another sheet from his pocket. Holding it up like a dare, he said in a low, calm, articulated voice, “Touch yourself.”

SMS quote 4

*****

Author bio:

Sonni de Soto is an Asian kinkster of color, who loves and lives the lifestyle when she can. Her work involves The Taming School and Show Me, Sir, as well as stories in Between the Shores: Erotica With Consent and The First Annual Geeky Kink Anthology. Like any good nerd, she loves learning new and interesting things about science, art, culture, and, of course, sex and love. She’s always thrilled to hear from readers.

Links:

Blog: www.sonnidesoto.blogspot.co.uk

Tumblr: http://sonni-de-soto.tumblr.com/

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/sonnidesotostories/

Fetlife: https://fetlife.com/users/1810574

 

Buy links for Show Me, Sir:

Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/1SIqdRX

Amazon US: http://amzn.to/1NLtlot

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