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Why I Love Writing Baddies

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EXHIBHITIONI’m hard at work in Grace Marshall mode, writing the final book of the Executive Decision trilogy, The Exhibition.  As well as writing sex and romance, I’m once again writing a delcious baddie. Well, actually, I’m revisiting one that I just couldn’t stay away from, and that’s got me thinking about why I love to write baddies.

I’m not sure when it happened, but my sneaking suspicion is that it was probably my first encounter with that ever-so-wicked, ever-so-enticing demon — Deacon, from my Lakeland Heatwave Trilogy when I first realised just how much fun it is to write baddies. Deacon was my first serious baddie, and I loved every creepy, twisted, nasty minute I spent with him clear to the very end of Elemental Fire. He was not only wicked and twisted, but at times he was sympathetic and at times he was outrageously sexy. I think I enjoyed being inside his evil head almost as much as I enjoyed the sexy, exciting romps of the Elemental Coven.

Book two of Grace Marshall’s Executive Decisions Trilogy was a different matter, however, as I wrote the stalker, Edge, for Identity Crisis. Though I was drawn into his dark, poisonous world, and it made me feel sort of claustrophobic and queasy, the words practically exploded onto the page, with me both wanting to run away and wanting to stay and see what happened next, wanting to uncover what his twisted mind had planned.

I’ve always told people that for me writing the sex scenes in erotica is like the best safe sex. It’s a wonderful way to participate in all of the fantasies I’ve ever had and some I never would have imagined I could have. But what happens when I write the baddies? Why do I love being in their presence so much? And even more to the point, what does it say about me that I find them so easy to write (heh, heh, heh)? Am I all of those people, the heroes, the victims, the incidentals and the baddies all rolled into one neurotic, twitchy woman? Do I have all of those traits somewhere hidden inside me — the fantasies about being the evil tyrant as well as the fantasies about threesomes on the Lakeland Fells? I doubt there is any way to peek into the strange depths of my own psychology that’s quite as revealing as writing a baddie. I shiver at the thought.

I know, on a psychological level, all writers have all of those parts within us and, on some level we live on the page in all of our characters, whether they’re hot and gorgeous and deliciously flawed in sexy ways or whether they’re evil and twisted and scary as hell. The darker parts of me frighten me at times, but they’re kept in check and held in balance by all of the other parts of me, all of the other parts that participate in the tenuous semi-democracy of my inner workings so that the Deacon in me and the potential Edge in me and the petty Tally Barnes in me are all channeled onto the written page. Am I scaring you all yet? I promise you, I’m harmless –ish.

And now that we’ve talked baddies, I thought I’d give you a rough and off-the-cuff sneak peek of the baddie from Grace Marshall’s next novel, The Exhibition.   As I said, I’m revisiting a baddie I just couldn’t resist returning to — Terrance Jamison — from the first of the Executive Decisions novels, An Executive Decision.  His story is, by no means finished.  In this scene, a talented young artists wakes up in a hotel room with Terrance Jamison, who has promised he can mentor her to a great career. She begins to suspect that her choice wasn’t the wisest. Enjoy.

 

Blurb:

Successful NYC gallery owner, Stacie Emerson, is ex-fiancée to one Thorne brother and ex-wife to the other. Though the three have made peace, Ellison Thorne’s friend, wildlife photographer, Harris Walker, still doesn’t like her. When Stacie convinces Harris to exhibit his work for the opening of her new gallery she never intended to include him in her other more hazardous plans. But when those plans draw the attention of dangerous business tycoon, Terrance Jamison, Harris comes to her aid. In the shadow of a threat only Stacie understands, can she dare let Harris into her life and make room for love?

Excerpt from The Exhibition:

Terrance Jamison sat reading the New York Times at the table in front of the window of the penthouse suite. He was already showered and dressed for business, even though it was a Sunday. For a second Ingrid stood in the doorway watching him, letting the wave of butterflies wash over her as she thought about the fact that this man, this very powerful, very wealthy man singled her work out from all the rest, this man believed her worthy of his attention. He sipped his coffee and sat the cup carefully back onto its saucer. She hadn’t thought him even aware of her presence until he spoke. ‘There’s a robe in the closet,’ he said without looking up from the paper. ‘Go put it on.’

She obeyed, stripping off the shirt in full view of him before she walked slowly back into the bedroom for the robe. When he didn’t look up, she felt more than a little bit confused. The man had been the best host ever last night. He had taken her to dine at Per Se putting out way more on one meal than she paid for her apartment for six months. Then he had brought her back to his penthouse suite in the Plaza Hotel. She’d never even been to Minneapolis until her senior trip, let alone New York before, so she was sure she reacted a bit like a kid at Christmas, and he seemed to relish her delight. But this morning, he seemed miles away. Surely it couldn’t be anything she had done. She hadn’t done anything that he hadn’t suggested or recommended. Perhaps he was just distracted. Surely an important businessman like Terrance Jamison had plenty of things other than art and artists on his mind.

She slipped into the robe and joined him at the table. He still didn’t look up. ‘Help yourself to coffee. I’ve ordered breakfast to be delivered –’ he glanced down at his watch ‘—in about twenty minutes.’

She poured herself coffee then moved to admire the view out over Central Park. ‘It’s so beautiful,’ she said, her voice breathless with the view and with nerves.

Still he said nothing. So she took matters into her own hands and leaned over his shoulder. ‘What are you reading?’

‘The write-up about last night’s little soirée,’ came the reply that sounded neither irritated nor warm. ‘It seems Ms Emerson has done it again. Even without our little contribution, Americans for the Arts has done very well from her efforts.’

She studied the picture of Stacie Emerson shaking her hand and offering her the plaque for Outstanding New Artist. She looked a bit shell shocked, but Stacie Emerson looked polished, at ease, and gorgeous. Her chest tightened with a strange mix of envy and hero worship. She owed the woman big time. If Ms Emerson hadn’t given her the chance to display her work in New World Gallery for the charity auction, she would have still just been Ted Watson’s little girl who dabbles in the arts in the old barn behind the cowshed, and Terrance Jamison would have taken no notice of her – would have never had cause to.  And yet she couldn’t help it. She would have liked it if the gallery owner had been a little less perfect, a little less comfortable in her own skin. There were several other posed shots with Ms Emerson and other people who were clearly people Ingrid would know if she ran in the same circles that Ms Emerson did, even people she might have had the opportunity to meet if she had joined the woman and the other artists for dinner. The little niggle in the pit of her stomach made her wonder if she might have made a mistake by not going along last night, but surely not. Hadn’t Mr Jamison said he could help her career-wise, at least as much as Ms Emerson could? And she had whole-heartedly believed him. Then. But right now she wasn’t feeling so sure.

‘How long have you known her,’ she asked, recalling with a twinge of jealousy she’d felt at the way he looked at her, the way he touched her when he’d asked her to join the for dinner.’

‘Stacie and I go way back,’ he said, still not showing any emotion at all. ‘Way back. She’s a very talented girl, our Ms Emerson.’ This time the corners of his mouth turned up into a smile. ‘I doubt there’s anything she couldn’t do if she set her mind to it.’

Ingrid certainly wouldn’t have called her a girl. Encouraged by the sudden shift in his humor, she settled onto the arm of his chair and wrapped an arm around his neck. ‘Were you lovers?’

He shrugged her off so quickly that she nearly lost her balance and she stood quickly to keep from falling. Then he pushed back from the table and tossed the paper into the trash can next to the sofa.

‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered, feeling a shiver run up her spine as he began to pace like a caged lion in front of the window. ‘That was none of my business. I’m sorry.’

He turned on her so suddenly that she nearly tripped over the leg of the chair he’d just vacated trying to step away. But there was no need. There was a broad smile on his face, and he took her into his arms and smoothed her mussed hair away from her face. ‘Stacie and I did some business together,’ he said, one hand moving down to undo the knot at the sash of her robe. ‘And certainly for me, that business did involve some … pleasure.’ He pushed the robe off her shoulders and, in spite of herself, she felt suddenly shy, but he only chuckled softly and gave her body the once over with the same appraising eyes with which she’d seen him admiring the art at the gallery. ‘You have nothing to be jealous of my dear Ms Watson. While Ms Emerson likes to be surrounded by lovely things, I prefer to possess lovely things.’

He pushed her back until her bottom pressed against the table, then he lifted her onto it, rattling the coffee cups and spilling coffee onto the white linen table cloth. With one hand he opened her legs and stroked her until she trembled with something more edgy than just arousal. With the other hand he opened his fly, eased out his erection and pushed into her with no preamble, no foreplay. And she felt as though he had forced a battering ram up inside her. For a second, she couldn’t breathe, for a second her eyes watered, for a second she felt fear tangle and knot with the beginnings of arousal. And she might have actually cried out, even struggled to escape him, but he was so strong. Just before she could get truly frightened, his efforts calmed and he held himself still inside her while he caught his breath, while he studied her face, her breasts, her thighs, the place where their bodies joined. And the pain gave way to an achy, prickly, almost panicky sort of pleasure. He stroked her breasts, examining them in that same way he had the art at the gallery, thumbing her nipples until they were raw and hyper sensitive, all the while his gaze took in her body as though he were judging it, as though it fascinated him in an abstract sort of way.

‘The funny thing about lovely things, Ingrid, is that lovely things often like to be possessed.’ Then he began to thrust, both hands moving to grip her hips and pull her tighter against him. ‘What do you think, Ingrid? Do you think that might be the case?’

His thrusting grew harder and she wrapped her legs around his waist to steady herself. A coffee cup rattled off the edge of the table and shattered on the wood floor. He cupped her chin in a tight grip between his thumb and forefinger and kissed her with a kiss that threatened to smother her even as it aroused her and frightened her. When he pulled free, he still held her so that she couldn’t look away from him. The tension in his body told her he was getting close. ‘Not that it matters.’ His words were now breathless and forced from his throat. ‘I don’t have to have permission to possess what I want, Ingrid. I simply buy it.’ And then he came with a hard thrust that forced the breath from her lungs and felt as though it would split her in two.

Before he could bring her, though she was already pretty sure that was not his priority, before he could even fully recover himself, there was a soft knock on the door. He pulled out and wiped himself on one of the linen napkins. ‘That’ll be breakfast.’ He tossed her the napkin. ‘Clean yourself up.’ Then, without so much as glancing back down at her, he went to the door, leaving her feeling nearly as shattered as the cup on the floor.

She hurried to wipe herself and retrieve the robe from the floor. She had just cinched the robe tight around her when he returned looking as though nothing at all had just happened.

‘Breakfast is in the dining area when you’re ready.’ He gave a quick glance at his watch. ‘I have a plane to catch, but you have the room for the rest of the day. There are clothes in the closet that should fit you. I’ve arranged for your gown to be dry-cleaned. It’ll be returned to your hotel room by the time you get back there.’

He picked up a small case from where it sat near the sofa and headed for the door, leaving her stunned and confused. Then as he reached for the door, he turned, came back to her and pulled her into a bone crunching embrace and a deep, hard kiss. He slipped a hand down and thrust two fingers quickly up inside her and thumbed her clit and she came with a startled sob. When he pulled away, he wiped his fingers on the edge of her robe, then he studied her for second. ‘My secretary will be in touch with plans for furthering your career, and I’m sure the two of us will be entertaining each other again soon.’ Then he left without another word.

Thrill Seeking with Kristina Lloyd

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Kristina LloydThrill Seeker Kristina Lloyd erotica

It’s my pleasure to have the very lovely Kristina Lloyd as my guest today. Kristina is sharing a little about her new novel, Thrill Seeker. Welcome Kristina! Do tell!

Thanks for inviting me over, KD! I’m here to share a little about my new book from Black Lace, Thrill Seeker, and would like to introduce my central character, Natalie Lovell.

Natalie’s a fairly ordinary women in her early thirties with a dull job, some good friends, and the standard amount of heartbreak under her belt. What makes Natalie extraordinary is that she’s on a mission: to know her sexual self. But the course of kink, like that of true love, never did run smooth, and we follow Natalie as she pursues an increasingly risky and muddled strategy in her determination to reach her goal. It doesn’t help that Natalie finds danger and fear enticingly erotic. If BDSM had health and safety inspectors, they’d be tearing their hair out over my protagonist.

One of the reasons I describe myself as a writer of erotic fiction rather than of erotic romance is because I like writing about individuals on a journey toward sexual authenticity. This doesn’t preclude the development of a core relationship, of love or a happy ending, but those factors aren’t driving the story. Nor does it mean my fiction isn’t romantic. It often is, albeit not conventionally so.

For Natalie, the exploration of her submissive sexuality on her own terms is key part of her self-actualisation. However, haunted and inhibited by incidents in her past, Natalie has taken some years to reach a point in her life where she feel brave enough to move forward. As she says:

I realised I had two choices. I could stick my neck out and start being honest about my desires, or I could suppress my feelings and remain in the closet, hoping someone would eventually find the door to let me out. Basically, I could live or die; or at least, live a life not fully realised. Giving up on certain aspects of yourself, the parts others might find distasteful or threatening, is the easiest thing in the world. It’s the safest route, the path of least resistance.

Natalie has played safe and secretive for too long. So she ventures into kinky internet dating, her first success being Baxter Logan, a charismatic, sexy, screwed up Scot who goes on to betray her after they’ve fallen in love. Readers meet Natalie on ‘take two’ of her online explorations where the risks have already escalated: she’s confessed to having kidnap fantasies to an intriguing stranger, Den, who hasn’t even offered a photo of his face.

This isn’t a D/S relationship which begins with contracts, safewords, clear consent and unambiguous boundaries. Many of Natalie’s fantasies centre around being forced, rendered powerless, and having choice removed. She enjoys the taste of fear. When Natalie discovers the term ‘edgeplay’ she finally has a channel for articulating and formalising some  of her desires. Here’s Natalie, mulling over what she wants:

‘Edgeplay’ was a concept I’d recently discovered and I’d added it to my mental BDSM dictionary along with other words which had once seemed peculiar in the context of sex, such as ‘scene’, ‘submission’ and ‘play’.

Although the definition seemed hard to pin down, I understood edgeplay to mean scenes where kinky activity takes place on the threshold of the submissive’s fear. Safewords aren’t used since they remove the fear. I was pleased to learn about edgeplay, not least because its existence made me feel less alone in wanting to be taken to the edge of safety, to the zone where my lust could blossom in darkness.

I recalled a word Den had once used in email: liminal. I’d had to look it up. Liminal, I learned, referred to times and places which were neither one thing nor the other: the margins and boundaries; the in-between spaces; those unstable moments of change such as the hours of twilight, the greying, glittered suspension between day and night.

That’s where I wanted to be, not secure in a walled fortress but blissing out on submission in the shifting magic of dusk.

Ultimately, my greatest concern was not my welfare but that, in clarifying an arrangement, Den and I might negotiate its heart out by stripping away risk and fear. What would be the point? I wanted to feel this in my veins, in my deepest shadows. I wanted lust spiked with terror. I wanted to be in his power, my desires ostensibly secondary to his. I wanted to know the truth of my fantasy of being abducted and taken to a place where I would be tested. How far could I go? What would happen to me on the margins of fear? Who would I become? That’s what I wanted. I didn’t want us to arrange to play a nice game by nicely discussed rules.

***

If you enjoy your erotica on the light and cheeky side, Thrill Seeker may not be for you. But if you want to try a book my publisher describes as  ‘Fifty Shades Darker than EL James or Sylvia Day’ then strap yourself in and hold on tight. Thrill Seeker is intended to be a wild, exciting, scary ride!

To find out more about Thrill Seeker, visit my blog and follow the links for a couple of sexy excerpts.

Thrill Seeker is out now in the UK in paperback and Kindle, and will be released in the US and Canada in late June.

Kristina Lloyd

Kristina Lloyd is the author of four Black Lace novels including the erotic thrillers, Asking for Trouble and her most recent book, Thrill Seeker. Her short stories have featured in numerous anthologies, including several ‘best of’ collections, and her work has been translated into German, Dutch and Japanese. She’s been described as an author who ‘writes sex with a formidable force’ and ‘blends literary and popular styles beautifully’. Kristina has a master’s degree in Twentieth Century Literature and lives in Brighton, UK. Visit her at http://kristinalloyd.co.uk

The Taming: Part 3 of The Pet Shop — FREE!

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I’m very excited to announce another FREE taste of my critically acclaimed novel, The Pet Shop! Alongside the original novel, The Pet Shop is now being offered by Xcite in a limited Kindle edition three-part series. Same Story, same sexy, naughty Pets, only broken down into three bite-size, mouthwatering novellas. Part Three, The Taming, is now available for FREE for the next five days on Amazon beginning on Wednesday, 22 May.  And, since Xcite is only too aware that Pets are addicting, to help feed your addiction for hot kinky romance, Part One, The Gift, and Part Two,  The Secret Life of Pets, are just £.77 each in the UK and $1.19 in the US. Remember, the three-part version of The Pet Shop will get you the same delicious story as the novel, only in three smaller packages to keep you titillated and teased with yummy bite-sized morsels. Enjoy!

(Just a quick reminder. If you’re an early bird on the other side of the Pond, the U.S. link may be available a few hours later than the UK link because of the time change. But be patient, and naughty FREE Pets will swiftly be coming your way)

Here’s a little teaser of what you’ll find in The Taming. Remember, though the download of The Taming is free, it’s anything BUT tame.

Blurb:

Reclusive philanthropist, Vincent Evanston has told Stella James she can have Vincent or she can have Tino, the Pet, but she can’t have both. The problem is Stella wants both. As the complications of wanting both sides of a man who can’t allow himself to be whole mount, Stella must walk the thin line that separates the business of pleasure from the dangerous business of the heart or suffer the consequences.

Excerpt:

‘It’s not bad enough they saddle me with Tino, now I get his female counterpart.’ The familiar handler in his black suit pushed his way in and started tugging at Stella’s clothes. ‘Do I have torture me written across my forehead? Is it bad karma? I swear I don’t know what I did to deserve you two.’

She tried to shove his hands away. ‘Look, I just can’t do this. I was told that once I was out I was out, and I just can’t do this. I want out, alright?’

‘Bullshit! Of course you can do it, and it’s not alright, now get out of your clothes and stop talking or I’ll have to spank your arse, and don’t think I won’t do it. Fuckin’ hell, first Tino, then you, and now both of you. They don’t pay me enough for this.’

Suddenly she stopped fighting him and he continued with the stripping. ‘Did you say Tino? Tino’s with you.’

‘I’m speaking English, aren’t I?’ He gave her a resounding smack across the arse he’d just bared and shoved the trench coat at her. ‘Get into this, and you’d better manage to at least act horny when you get there ‘cause I don’t have time to strap you into the Foreplayer.’ He smacked her bottom again, then wrestled her into the coat and jerked the sash tight. ‘Now give me your keys and let’s go unless you want your arse and Tino’s spanked soundly by your keeper for being late when you get there. Tino might like that just fine. Not sure how your tender little bum would hold up.’

She was trembling so hard by the time she got to the van that the handler had to help her in. He had taken the trench coat and shoved her into the large pet carrier before she realized she was sharing it with Tino, who scooped her to him in a tight embrace, and the delicious scent of the big Pet filled her nostrils and made her cunt clench and her pulse race. But it was Vincent’s smell too. Her nose wouldn’t be fooled this time, no matter how differently the two of them behaved. And the clench in her cunt was followed quickly by an even harder clench in her heart and a knotting in her stomach as she thought of waking up to find him gone. What the fuck kind of game was he playing?

With a growl that sounded too wild to belong to a Pet, she shoved her way out of his arms and elbowed him in the stomach generating enough momentum, even in the confined space, to make him grunt. The look of hurt on his face made her even more angry. How dare he be hurt? She wasn’t the one who ran away, and she’d had about enough of this emotional bate and switch. When he reached for her again, she bit him, hard. He sucked air and flinched. She wasn’t certain, but she thought he might have actually had to wrestle back a curse.

She shoved her way to the far corner of the pet carrier, banging her head on the side as the van driver took off. The handler, who stayed in the back with the pets pounded on the top of the cage, clearly misunderstanding what was going on.

‘Tino, you keep your cock to yourself until I get you there, you hear me? If I see any sign of spunk, or smell it, I’ll tell your keeper to tie that cock of yours in a knot and make you hold your load all weekend, you got that?’

Not if hell freezes over will he find any spunk, at least not any having to do with her, Stella thought.

She could see Tino’s pulse pounding against his throat, and his chest rose and fell like he would hyperventilate. And he was hard. He was always hard, damn him!

She pressed her cheek to the side of the Pet carrier and tried to ignore the way his gaze bore into her, tried to ignore the press of their legs, which was unavoidable in the tight space. And the smell of him. My god, how could she ignore the smell of him? She dreamed of his scent. She masturbated to thoughts of his scent, and here she was trapped with it, and aching for it, and still so furious she could barely breathe. She wanted to yell and scream at him, she wanted to know why, why he had left her. What game he was playing?  Instead she sat with her back pressed as tightly to the slats of the carrier as possible and tried to ignore him.

The next time he reached for her, she slapped him, slapped him hard enough to make her hand sting.

‘What the hell are you two up to?’ The handler rattled the pet carrier again. ‘If I have to drag you both out and wear the spanker out on your bottoms, don’t think I won’t. Now knock it off.’

Stella pulled herself as far into the corner as she could get and tried to ignore the smell of Tino’s arousal, made even more obvious by his erection bobbing against his thigh, the thigh he made no effort to pull out of her space. She shoved at him. But he didn’t budge. She tried to turn her back on him as much as she could, but he pushed in still closer, not allowing her to ignore him.

He kept pushing at her and pushing at her until she kicked at him, which was useless with bare feet in such tight quarters, but he took the opportunity to pounce, nearly upsetting the pet carrier. The handler cursed and uttered a string of threats, most of which Stella didn’t hear because she was fighting to keep from being pinned under Tino.

The van screeched to a halt with both pets being shoved by the momentum to the front of the carrier. Then the carrier door flew open and Tino was wrestled out by the handler and the driver. ‘Goddamn it, I said knock it off!’ The driver held Tino while the handler hooked his collar to a short lead and a pair of hand cuffs that were attached to the wall of the van, then he stormed out of the van and Stella could hear him shouting into his mobile something about all hell breaking loose.

Tino ignored it all, as though nothing else in the world had his attention but her. His gaze was now unreadable, possibly a little more like Vincent, but then how the hell could she tell who he was playing at. The van driver stepped out to have a fag, and she took advantage. ‘You left me, you son of a bitch. You left me without telling me why.’

She swallowed the last word as the door to the van burst open and the handler shoved his way back in to sit down next to Tino. ‘Lucky for you two miscreants the Professor assures me he’ll have no trouble handling misbehaving Pets. I think he rather likes the idea. The thought of you two being soundly disciplined definitely warms the cockles of my heart.’

The driver got back in and the van headed back down the M 25. This time the look on Tino’s face was utterly wounded, a look she couldn’t bare. She closed her eyes fighting back tears.

From Amazon.com

The Taming

The Secret Life of Pets

The Gift

From Amazon.co.uk

The Taming

The Secret Life of Pets

The Gift

Lisabet Sarai Breaks the Rules with Her Genre-defying New Release, Rajasthani Moon

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Fear of Flying

It would have been much faster to fly.

Alas, Cecily Harrowsmith—special agent for Her Majesty the Queen, expert in the martial arts of three continents, past mistress of princes, potentates and the occasional prime minister—was afraid of flying. She despised herself for this weakness, but not enough to board one of the Empire’s sleek, viridium-powered airships, strap herself into her seat and hope for the best.

Hence the current tedious journey. Cecily peered out of the window of herLisabet Sarai May post123rfDirigible-14428352_s carriage at the endless

expanse of russet-coloured desert stretching in all directions. The mere sight of all that sand was enough to make her throat burn. She sipped her tepid tea, wondering for the twentieth time why she’d accepted this bloody assignment.

Thus begins my most recent release, Rajasthani Moon, a book that deliberately defies categorization. It contains elements of the steam punk and paranormal sub-genres, plus quite a lot of moderately extreme BDSM and a M/F/M ménage. It features a kick-ass Rubenesque heroine, a billionaire Rajah and a sexy, deliciously disreputable bandit. It flirts with non-consensual fantasies and lesbian attraction. It has some funny moments, not infrequently associated with sex. Oh, and it’s a romance, with what I hope is a sublimely satisfying happy ending (although I won’t tell you who ends up with whom!)

Writing this book involved taking risks. I’ve observed how readers cling to their favorite genres. I’m breaking rules right and left with this novel. Will the market embrace my mash-up? Or will readers run away in droves, terrified of the unfamiliar?

Producing the same sort of stories, again and again, can be comfortable. It may help sales,  too. To grow as authors, though, we have to leave safety behind. We must step out onto that high pinnacle of creativity and let go, defying the fear that we’ll plummet ignominiously to the ground. We have to get over our fear of flying.

Rajasthani Moon is like nothing I’ve written before. Well, that’s not strictly true. Like most of my books, it has plenty of erotic content. What I mean is that I’ve never felt so free as I did writing this book. I gave myself permission to follow my imagination, no matter how wild its suggestions. I found this Lisabet Sarai may postrajasthanimoon_noquote_800difficult at first. The further I ventured out onto my self-constructed limb, though, the easier I found the process.

The result? Well, I’m pleased with it. I have no idea what other people will think. But I won’t worry. That’s out of my control.

And Cecily? She conquers her fear, too, eventually:

The passenger compartment was about ten feet long. Its walls were chest height. A canopy shaded one end, including the brass and quartz crystal control panel. The other was open to the sky, though the gas bag a dozen feet above them shielded them from the most direct rays of the sun. She was not surprised to discover that the floor was covered by multiple layers of intricately-patterned carpets and strewn with fat, multi-hued pillows. The Rajasthanis seemed to have little use for furniture.

Amir busied himself at the controls while Pratan lounged on the cushions, looking rakish and indolent. “Come here, Cecily,” he ordered. “Sometimes the take-off is a bit bumpy.”

Her heartbeat accelerated and her palms started to sweat at this reminder of what lay ahead. She gave him a sharp look. She could have sworn he was suppressing a chuckle.

Nevertheless, she reclined beside him, as he’d instructed. He slipped his arm around her shoulder and held her tight against his chest. His strength reassured her, but she still felt as though her stomach was turning somersaults.

A low frequency vibration hummed under them as Amir started the engine.

“Here we go,” called the Rajah. “Prepare to lift off.”

“Kiss me,” said Pratan. He took possession of her mouth without waiting for her acquiescence.

Amir released the tethers binding the dirigible to the roof. They retracted into their housings with a snap and the gondola swayed in reaction, springing upward a few feet. Cecily’s heart climbed into her throat. She gritted her teeth against sudden nausea. Pratan’s agile tongue wormed its way between her lips, urging her to relax and open, and the spell passed. Meanwhile, his hands wandered over her body, pulling her loose clothing out of the way so that he could stroke her breasts and belly.

His scent enveloped her, sandalwood and smoke superimposed on animal musk. The wolf had not returned since their encounter on Mount Abu, but Pratan still smelt like something feral. He burrowed into her, sucking on her tongue and nibbling her lips, while his fingers teased her nipples into hungry knots. Cecily moaned as the pleasure mounted. She lay back, cradled in the nest of cushions, and allowed him free access.

***

Rajasthani Moon is available now from Total-E-Bound, at a 10% discount, and will have its general release at Amazon and other bookstores on May 31st. But why not get your copy now and save? TEB can download direct to your Kindle or other e-reader.

About Lisabet Sarai

Lisabet Sarai may postlisabetFaceLisabet Sarai became addicted to words at an early age. She began reading when she was four. She wrote her first story at five years old and her first poem at seven. Since then, she has written plays, tutorials, scholarly articles, marketing brochures, software specifications, self-help books, press releases, a five-hundred page dissertation, and lots of erotica and erotic romance – nearly 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. Her gay scifi erotic romance Quarantine won a Rainbow Awards 2012 Honorable Mention.

Lisabet has more degrees than anyone would ever need, from prestigious educational institutions who would no doubt be deeply embarrassed by her chosen genre.  She has traveled widely and currently lives in Southeast Asia with her indulgent husband and two exceptional felines, where she pursues an alternative career that is completely unrelated to her creative writing.

For more information about Lisabet and her writing, visit her website (http://www.lisabetsarai.com) or her blog Beyond Romance (http://lisabetsarai.blogspot.com)

It’s no Secret. It’s FREE! The Secret Life of Pets that is!

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If you missed it the last time, I’m very excited to announce another FREE taste of my critically acclaimed novel, The Pet Shop! Alongside the original novel, The Pet Shop is now being offered by Xcite in a limited Kindle three-part edition. The second part, The Secret Life of Pets, is once again available for FREE for five days on Amazon from the 24th April through the 28th. And, since Xcite are only too aware that Pets are addicting, to help feed your addiction for hot kinky romance, Part One, The Gift, and Part Three, The Taming, are just £.77 each in the UK and $1.19 in the US.

(Just a quick reminder. If you’re an early bird on the other side of the Pond, the U.S. link may be available a few hours later than the UK link because of the time change.)

Here’s a little teaser of what you’ll find in The Secret Life of Pets. Download your copy FREE, and you’ll find out what the secret is.

Blurb:                               

Obsessed with finding out about Tino and his connection with Vincent Evanston, Stella enters the secret world of the Pet Shop in the only way possible, by becoming a Pet herself. As her animal lust awakens, Stella discovers the delicious crossover of the world of Pets and Keepers when Vincent takes her home as his Pet. But Stella wants the best of both worlds. Will she ever be able to have it?

Excerpt:

Stella was still struggling to make sense of it all when the door opened. She could see a silhouette darkened against the moonlit sky before the door closed, then there were footsteps across the complaining wood floor and the Boss knelt beside her with a leash, which he clipped into the D-ring of her collar and held her gaze. He stood without saying a word, and she stood next to him, her legs suddenly unsteady. Was she going to have sex with him?  Not that he wasn’t an attractive man, but he was her boss and sex would add another complication she didn’t need. He led her out into the night, back along a narrow pavement, down a steep set of stairs and through a heavy wooden door.

Before she had a chance to get frightened, the Boss flipped on a light switch and a cavernous room immerged out of the shadow into details she failed to notice. Her whole attention was drawn to the pallet on the floor in the corner where Tino lay naked, blinking hard at the bright invasion on light-deprived pupils. He yawned and stretched and wiped sleep from his eyes. When he saw her, he came to his feet expectantly. As always, it was impossible for her not to notice his lovely penis, already at half-mast and rising. He laid a hand against it, not like he was about to masturbate, more like he was taking the reins of a powerful animal.

The Boss chuckled softly. ‘I can almost hear your fear and anger, Stella, and I assure you there’s no need for either. This is where Tino sleeps whenever he’s here. Not sure why he prefers the dungeon to far more plush places in which a Pet of his status could sleep. Perhaps because he spends so much time down here anyway being punished for bad behaviour, and I assure you, he gets far less than he deserves. He unhooked the leash and nodded toward the big Pet. ‘Go on. If the two of you were magnets it would be easier to keep him from you.’

It was all she could do to keep from crying out his name as he scooped her into his arms. Any further slippage of speech was stopped by Tino’s insistent mouth startling in its familiarity. Her throat tightened and her eyes welled, as he took her face between large hands and kissed her repeatedly, ravenously, as though he would never stop. But when he did, it was because they had both become once again aware that the Boss was still standing there, arms folded across his chest, watching.

When they stood staring at him expectantly, he pulled out a metal folding chair and sat down deliberately. ‘Oh, I’m not leaving, if that’s what you’re waiting for. I did scheme to get the two of you together, that’s true.’ He waved a hand. ‘And I expect you to do whatever nasty things your libidos drive you to, but I expect you to do them while I watch.’

He turned his gaze on Stella, whose insides suddenly twisted in a writhe of nerves. ‘My dear Stella, as a Pet, you’ll often be called upon by your keepers to perform sexually for them while they watch and have a wank.’ He shrugged. ‘Sometimes they only do that until they get up their courage to join in the fun. Other times they really are voyeurs and get off on the watching more than the doing.

‘Me, I don’t need courage to join in the fun, which I may well do if I choose. But after what happened between you two this morning, I haven’t had a minute’s peace imagining the fireworks that must happen when the two of you actually are allowed to fuck.’ He sighed happily and settled back into the chair as though it were the most comfy recliner. ‘All I need now is some popcorn. Consider this a part of your training, Stella, and who better to help you with your homework than someone who’s an old hand at it.’ He nodded to Tino.

She expected at least an awkward moment or two to adjust to the idea of fucking with an audience, but Tino simply ignored the Boss’s presence.He lifted her as though she were weightless and carried her back to his pallet.

From Amazon.com

The Secret Life of Pets

The Gift

The Taming

From Amazon.co.uk

The Secret Life of Pets

The Gift

The Taming