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Sweet Spot – A New Lesbian Sports Romance by Lucy Felthouse! (@cw1985 @8britbabes) #erotica #romance #lesbian

Sweet SpotBlurb:

A Raw Talent book.

Virginia Miller is an up-and-coming tennis star. She’s gone from a ratty tennis court in a park in south London, England, to the world’s top training facility—Los Carlos Tennis Academy in California. In awe of the talent around her, Virginia is all the more determined to make the most of the opportunity and show that she’s worthy of her place there. Her mentor, Nadia Gorlando, has every faith in her.

But Virginia finds herself distracted—Nadia, as well as being a top-notch tennis player, is seriously sexy, and Virginia’s mind keeps wandering where it shouldn’t. Will her crush get in the way of her career, or can she find a way to push the other woman out of her mind before it’s too late?

Buy links: http://lucyfelthouse.co.uk/published-works/sweet-spot/

Add to Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/21521972-sweet-spot

*****

Excerpt:

Nadia Gorlando and I had just gotten off the exercise bikes in the gym when one of the academy’s coaches, Peter Ross, headed over to us, all smiles.

“Hey, Nadia,” he said, his all-American grin widening and his blond hair flopping down over his forehead, “I need a huge favor.”

I flicked my gaze to Nadia. She raised one of her perfectly shaped eyebrows and waited for him to continue. He did.

“I totally lost track of time just now and I have an appointment with Travis Connolly. Would you mind wiping down my machine for me? Or maybe stick a note on it saying it’s out of order? I don’t want to leave it all sweaty for someone else. You’ll be doing me a real solid. I’ll owe you.”

My jaw almost hit the floor.

Now Nadia rolled her eyes, looked over at the offending machine, then back at Peter. “Sure, I understand,” she said, as cool as ice. “The world’s number one can’t wait. Go right ahead—I’ll fix it for you.”

He babbled a load of thanks, then jogged out of the gym.

I gaped at her. “You’re not going to do it, are you?”

Nadia chuckled. “Of course not. He may be coaching Travis Connolly and Rufus Lampani for the US Open, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to clean up his mess.” She pointed with her chin over to the machine Peter had just vacated. “Come on, V, I’ll show you how I’m going to deal with this.”

I followed her, grinning. Her tone told me that it was going to be something fun. Well, for us, anyway. Probably not for Peter.

Sure enough, when she returned from the room off the side of the gym, she had a pad of paper and a pen in her hands. Deliberately shielding the pad from my view, she wrote something down, then pulled off the top sheet. Folding it, she then propped it on the sweat-slicked seat so the writing was on view to anyone who happened past.

When I’d read and absorbed the words, I turned to Nadia, impressed. Her smile lit up her face, showing dimples in each cheek, and her brown eyes gleamed with amusement.

It was in that moment that I decided I had the serious hots for Nadia Gorlando.

The sign read,

PLEASE EXCUSE THE STATE OF THIS MACHINE. PETER ROSS, TENNIS COACH SUPREMO, “LOST TRACK OF TIME”.

*****

Author Bio:

Lucy Felthouse is a very busy woman! She writes erotica and erotic romance in a variety of subgenres and pairings, and has over 100 publications to her name, with many more in the pipeline. These include several editions of Best Bondage Erotica, Best Women’s Erotica 2013 and Best Erotic Romance 2014. Another string to her bow is editing, and she has edited and co-edited a number of anthologies, and also edits for a small publishing house. She owns Erotica For All, is book editor for Cliterati, and is one eighth of The Brit Babes. Find out more at http://www.lucyfelthouse.co.uk. Join her on Facebook and Twitter, and subscribe to her newsletter at: http://eepurl.com/gMQb9

 

Warm Up for World Cup with Lily Harlem’s Sizzling Football Novel, Scored

Lily Harlem Scored 16 June

Thanks so much for inviting me over today, Kd, it’s great to be here. I’m so excited about the FIFA 2014 World Cup. Mr H and I are planning parties with our friends and family. There will be England flags and banners, cakes and hats all with the England flag on them. No doubt some face-painting going on too!

Football fever really grips my family. I have five brothers-in-law plus three brothers of my own and they are all football crazy. It’s always loud, fun and to be honest, there were many years I didn’t ‘get’ it, but then I decided “if you can’t beat `em, join `em” which is exactly what I’ve done.

Now I’m now the one planning the party, organizing the get-together and Googling all the kick-off times. There will be beer, cheers, sighs of dismay and much discussion until the small hours of the morning – all good fun! Go England!

Scored, my sexy football novel, isn’t about the World Cup but the European Cup, specifically the 2012 European Cup hosted by Ukraine. I watched it avidly and was so inspired by all those sexy athletes shooting up and down the pitch that I created an England captain all of my own – enter Lewis Tate. Yum! He’s the perfect combination of alpha male, considerate English gent and single-minded athlete.

The heroine in Scored is a sports journalist, and a serious one at that. She isn’t interested in the gossip and the scandal surrounding the players, she wants to give the lowdown on the formation, the starting line up and the on-pitch skills. Yes, of course she does, she also can’t help having a major crush on Lewis, and despite some of her Bridget Jones’ ways, it seems he kinda likes her too!

Blurb

Okay, so I eat, sleep and breathe football and reporting the beautiful game is my dream career. But that doesn’t mean I don’t have time for a major crush on the England captain, Lewis Tate. The bloke is sex on legs, hot with a capital H. Add in his awe-inspiring talent, his brooding good looks and what’s not to lust after?

So my excitement is sky-high as I set off with the official press team to cover England’s battle for the European Cup. But when a series of unfortunate, or as it turns out fortunate events, attracts Tate’s attention my way, who am I to say no?

Add in a misogynistic manager, an over-zealous colleague, two blue silk ties and some incredible ball-handling skills and it becomes clear the road to victory, for me, will be an intensely erotic journey. Determined to savor every moment, I hang onto my sanity as best I can while living the fantasy and wondering if it can ever become reality. Because once Lewis Tate has taken me to heaven and back, its clear no one else will ever compare.

lily Harlem Scored 3 16 JuneHere’s a snippet taken from when Nicky and Lewis have secretly met up in a Cathedral in Donetsk…

“But I’m just Nicky Thomas, sports journalist. I come from Stoke and have a middle-class, unremarkable background. Why would someone as amazing as you, with all your footballing credentials, want me?”

He shook his head and appeared bemused. “What does football have to do with me admiring your professionalism, being comfortable with who you are and fighting for what you want?” He paused. “You do still like me, don’t you?”

I nodded. Unable to trust myself to speak and gush about just how much I liked him. How much I would like to cover him in whipped cream, sprinkles and chocolate drops and spend an entire day eating it off him.

“Good,” he said. “Because if you can just cope with this craziness for a little while longer, in few weeks the tournament will be over and we won’t have to sneak around.”

“You mean—”

He brushed his lips over mine. “Yes, honey, I mean this is just the start of something. Well, it is for me anyway. It’s been a long time since I’ve met anyone who’s been my last thought as I’ve gone to sleep and my first thought each morning.”

Oh, fuck. Now he’s got me.

I became a puddle of romantic ideals falling toward him. Didn’t he know what kind of effect sentiments like that had on a girl? I reached for his shoulders, pressed my body to his and allowed him to kiss me into a stupor of longing. He was my every thought too. When I wasn’t with him I was thinking about being with him and when I was with him I just couldn’t get close enough.

He tangled his fingers in my hair and held me firm as he kissed and explored my mouth. I let him in and melted under his touch. The way he was clasping me was so possessive, so masculine and dominant. Little thought kernels of what he could do to me, how he could make me feel, in bed, began to pop like candy in my belly. Imagine if he held me like this when he…

Oh, sweet Jesus. I was getting turned on again. Shit, and in a holy place.

Lewis groaned and sent kisses across my cheek, tugged my hair firmer so my head tipped, then licked and nipped at my neck. Lust shot to my pussy. It was like there was a wire from the skin on my neck to my clit and his attentions sent white-hot streaks of pleasure zapping down it.

“Lewis,” I murmured, trying to move my head but unable to. I discovered that far from feeling frustrated I reveled in the hold he had on me. That fact that I couldn’t move and he was doing what he wanted to my neck was a massive turn-on.

“Ah, honey, I could have fucking killed Fellows the other night. Walking away from you took every ounce of control I had.”

His breath was scalding hot against my flesh and I shivered with pleasure at his heated words.

“It was okay for you, though,” he went on.

“What do you mean?”
He released the grip on my head and brought my face level with his. “I think you know.”
I swallowed. I did know.

“You used it, didn’t you?”

“What?”

“Don’t act coy.” A slow smile spread on his face. “Because it makes me so horny to imagine you using your vibrator and thinking of me.”

I opened my mouth but no words came out.

He took full advantage and kissed me again. This time he slipped his hand up my top and cupped my breast over the new bra.

I pressed closer for more. Why did we have to be fully clothed and in a cathedral? Right now I would sell my soul to be naked in bed with him and no other person for a hundred miles around.

“I can just imagine you,” he said, tweaking my nipple through silk. “Lying on the bed, legs spread, that buzzing shaft penetrating your sweetness, getting you off, making you pant and sweat.” He paused. “Did you think of me?”

Fuck yes.

“Tell me,” he whispered, “Please, I want to know.”

“Yes. Yes I did.”
I felt his body tense and his shoulders hitched, like he was pulling in a deep breath.

“And did you say my name?” He switched his attentions to the opposite breast.

“Yes, over and over.”

He fluttered his eyes shut and let out a long deep sigh. “Oh, fuck, that mental image of you is so hot,” he muttered.

“Lewis Tate,” I said in a scolding whisper. “You’re a bad boy picturing such things in a holy place.”

His eyes pinged open and his gaze trapped mine. For a split second I thought he might grin. He didn’t. “Tell me you’re not thinking them too.”

“Yes, I am, but—”

“But the difference is you’re not going to have zipper marks permanently imprinted on your genitals.” He shifted on the seat. “Fuck, you make me so hard.” He shook his head and muttered, “So hard it hurts.”

That knowledge thrilled me utterly. “Is that so?” I ran my hand down over his chest, his abdomen, then settled it on the solid wedge of flesh at his groin that was pushing and straining against the denim.

“That’s not helping.” He moaned. His face twisted and his eyes screwed up tight.

“I know what will, though.”

Fuck. Had I really just said that? Double fuck. Had I really just thought that? I had, and it seemed I was the biggest sinner of the lot because I didn’t care. I wanted to act on my impulse. In fact, I wasn’t sure anything could stop me. Not now the need, the desire, had flooded my brain like a tsunami.

I tugged at the button on his jeans, freeing it with a quick flick of my wrist.

“Nicky,” he said, parting his lips on a pant. “What are you doing?” He opened his eyes. They were dark and smoky, their normally crystal-clear depths clouded with lust.

“I’m going to help you out with that zipper problem.” As I spoke I tugged down the zip on his jeans. The flesh beneath burst forward, the cotton of his briefs not as efficient at containing his cock as the denim had been.

“Ah, fuck, really, here?” He hissed in a breath as I cupped his shaft through cotton.

I glanced around. “We seem to be alone.”

“But anyone could walk in—”

I kissed him, cut off his words, the same way he had me earlier. “I somehow don’t think it will take long.” I sought the waistband of his boxers and delved inside. Bulging, heated flesh strained forward and I gripped it eagerly. Ecstatic to finally

have his cock in my hand.

“Now just let me down there,” I said, nodding between his knees and finding myself admiring the proud, scarlet shaft filling my palm. The head was wide and shiny and blushed with arousal.

He didn’t speak, just spread his thighs and let me maneuver myself between him and the pew in front. “Keep look out,” I said, finding a prayer cushion for my knees and settling into the softness.

“I’ll try.” His cheeks were flushed, his jaw tensed.

I gave him a sexy grin then poked out my tongue and stroked it through the deep slit on the head of his cock. Pulled in his flavor and swept it over my palate. It was sweetly bitter with a salty creaminess to it. Delicious.

“Ah, shit, that’s so horny seeing you do that.” He tipped forward and gripped the backrest of the pew behind me, effectively embracing me within his bulk and engulfing me in shadows. “Fuck, be careful. I’m so near coming already.”

“Keep looking out,” I said.

*****

Oh Nicky you’re so bad, but it does get good for her, really good! Against the wall, in the bath and tied to the bed good! Here are a few reviews for Scored…

Lily Harlem’s story of a famous footballer and a hardcore sports writer is one of the best happily ever after erotica novels I’ve read.”

“Explosive, and oh my god wow, that’s all I can say. I could not put the book (Scored) down till I was finished. A must read!”

“From strangers to friendship to lovers, Nicky and Lewis were amazing. It felt like real life and I could picture all the events taking place. This is a must read!”

“An amazing story.”

“This is a must read. 123 pages of yummy goodness.”

And if you like Pinterest this might be right up your street… http://www.pinterest.com/lilyharlem/sexy-soccer-scored/

Lily Harlem Scored 2 16 June

 

 

 

 

Scored is available from all good ebook retailers including:

Amazon http://www.amazon.com/Scored-ebook/dp/B0085MQSA6/ref=la_B004MHRTQK_1_14?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1366015666&sr=1-14

Amazon UK http://www.amazon.co.uk/Scored-Sexy-Sporting-Romance-Harlem-ebook/dp/B0085MQSA6/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1401693751&sr=1-1&keywords=Scored+%28Sexy+Sporting+Romance%29

ARe https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-scored-1485502-356.html

Kobo http://store.kobobooks.com/en-US/ebook/scored-1

Barnes and Noble http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/scored-lily-harlem/1119140373?ean=2940149314478&itm=1&usri=2940149314478

iBooks https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/id859050689

Find out more about me and my work on my website http://www.lilyharlem.com follow my blog for daily musings http://www.lilyharlem.blogspot.co.uk and subscribe to my newsletter for information on new releases, freebies and contests http://www.lilyharlem.com/newsletter-subscription.html

Thank you for inviting me to your blog, Kd J

 

 

Cover Reveal: Sweet Spot by Lucy Felthouse (@cw1985)

Sweet SpotA Raw Talent book.

(unapproved blurb)

Virginia Miller is an up-and-coming tennis star. She’s gone from a ratty tennis court in a park in south London, England, to the world’s top training facility – Los Carlos Tennis Academy in California. In awe of the talent around her—Travis Connolly, Rufus Lampani and Nadia Gorlando, Virginia is all the more determined to make the most of the opportunity and show that she’s worthy of her place there. Her mentor, Nadia Gorlando, has every faith in her. But Virginia finds herself distracted—Nadia, as well as being a top notch tennis player, is seriously sexy, and Virginia’s mind keeps wandering where it shouldn’t. Will her crush get in the way of her career, or can she find a way to push the other woman out of her mind before it’s too late?

More info and excerpt: http://lucyfelthouse.co.uk/published-works/sweet-spot/

Add to your Goodreads shelves: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/21521972-sweet-spot

*****

Lucy Felthouse is a very busy woman! She writes erotica and erotic romance in a variety of subgenres and pairings, and has over 100 publications to her name, with many more in the pipeline. These include several editions of Best Bondage Erotica, Best Women’s Erotica 2013 and Best Erotic Romance 2014. Another string to her bow is editing, and she has edited and co-edited a number of anthologies, and also edits for a small publishing house. She owns Erotica For All, and is book editor for Cliterati. Find out more at http://www.lucyfelthouse.co.uk. Join her on Facebook and Twitter, and subscribe to her newsletter at: http://eepurl.com/gMQb9

 

Why Just Anybody Can’t Write Sports Romance by Cassandra Carr

Underneath It AllThere’s the old adage – write what you know – and it’s true for sports romance. While there are many things a writer can fake, I think accurately portraying athletes, both off and on the playing surface, is far harder to get right.

I’m part of a group blog for sports romance and one of our writers recently posted on our internal Yahoo group that she’d read a hockey romance where a team won by two goals in overtime. If that writer truly knew hockey, or had taken the time to do even basic research, they would’ve known that overtime in hockey is sudden death – you can’t win by two goals.

Many other professions can be faked because policies and procedures are not the same across the board. An example of this are police procedurals. I live in the Western New York area and my Romance Writers of America chapter had a detective speak to us a couple of years ago. She mentioned that in Amherst, a suburb of Buffalo, interrogations are not recorded, whereas in the City of Buffalo they are. So as an author, you can use whatever works for your story and you’ll still be right, because there’s no one right way to do things.

But in sports, there usually is.

All football games have four 15-minute quarters. All hockey games have three 20-minute periods. Football fields are the same size. Hockey ice surfaces can differ somewhat depending on where the game is played, but overall there are the same lines, face off circles, etc no matter where the rink is located.

And what’s hardest of all to get right in sports romance is the behind-the-scenes stuff, whether it’s the locker room after a game or the athletes’ lives with their families. There’s a mystique surrounding many sports, so fans don’t often get glimpses into the athletes’ personal lives or what goes on inside a locker room. Only true fans of the game have any real accurate idea of the particulars in these areas.

As a reader of sports romance, what do you find the most annoying or think the most authors get wrong? Tell me in the comments!

Buy links:

Amazon UK
Amazon US
Barnes & Noble

Blurb:

Professional hockey player Rob D’Amico meets kindergarten teacher Alaina Rossa through a reading program for inner-city students.  When Rob observes the lack of even the basic supplies for their education, he takes it upon himself to get the students what they need.

Is it possible Alaina’s soul mate could be found in a world so different from her own? And for Rob, the last person he thought he’d find forever love with was an elementary school teacher.

Excerpt:

Alaina was aware the tone of her voice had moved beyond surprise and barreled right toward incredulous, but everything she thought she’d known about professional athletes and, in particular, this man, was being blown out of the water. If he’d really done this, just handing over his own money, and from what she could see, of his own volition, as the Storm didn’t appear to be involved, Rob was an entirely different person than she’d pegged him to be. A thread of guilt wound around her brain. Obviously she’d judged him prematurely, and now she felt like a bitch.

“Yes. Your students shouldn’t suffer because of their circumstances. And if the amount is not enough, tell me and I’ll give you more.”

“Not enough?” Her voice cracked on the last word. “Rob, this is…this is amazing. Truly.”

He shrugged again, rubbing the back of his neck, clearly uncomfortable with the praise.

After rising, she skirted her desk to stand in front of him. “Do you understand how much good this will do?”

Now Rob smiled, and Alaina noticed laugh lines around his eyes. Maybe she’d been right that he didn’t take life all that seriously, but this gesture showed another side to him—one she would have a hard time behaving professionally around. When she’d thought he was a playboy-athlete like so many others, it had been easy to dismiss him. But now…
As the enormity of what he’d done fully hit her, a tear escaped to roll down her cheek. Never before had someone seen the injustice her students endured and done something so quickly and yet with so little fanfare. He’d just handed over the check like it was no big deal.

Unbelievable.

Before she could process what was happening, Rob wiped at the wetness with the pad of his thumb. When their gazes collided, Rob’s swift intake of breath startled her. He pulled his hand away as if he’d been burned before turning and pacing away.

What the hell is that all about? No way does a guy like him think I’m hot.

Half turning back toward her, he said, “Anyway, I don’t want to keep you, but I couldn’t just hand over the check after my reading thing and run.”

“Okay.” Alaina approached him then reached a tentative hand to the shoulder nearest her. He was about a head taller than her, and when her hand met his flesh it was like touching granite. Rob was built like a tank, which she supposed was an advantage in the rough and tumble sport of hockey. She couldn’t help but feel safe in his presence.

“I don’t even have the words to express my appreciation. ‘Thank you’ is so inadequate.” Another tear escaped, and she quickly swiped at it. She’d probably freak Rob out if she turned into a waterworks right now.

He sighed and darted a glance at her out of the corner of his eye.
“Don’t thank me. I don’t want your thanks. I only did what anyone else would do.”

She knew that wasn’t true, but remained silent.

“And please don’t make a big deal out of the whole thing. I don’t want some reporter tracking me down thinking the check was a publicity stunt.”

“Whatever you want.” She squeezed his shoulder briefly before letting go.

Rob peeked at her one more time then started for the door like he was rushing from a burning building. “See you next week.”

“See you.” She returned to her desk and fell into the chair to stare at the check. This had to rank as one of the strangest days of her life. Alaina certainly wasn’t used to people recognizing the need for funds and actually coming through for her.

She carefully folded the check into an inside pocket of her purse then walked out to her beat-up Toyota Corolla. Her dad had gotten the car for her as a college graduation present, and it had been well-used even then. Now, six years later, the junk heap was held together with duct tape and a dream.

Find Cassandra Carr here:

Website: http://www.booksbycassandracarr.com
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/AuthorCassandraCarr
Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/cassandra_carr
Pinterest: http://pinterest.com/booksbycasscarr/

About Cassandra Carr

Cassandra Carr is a multi-award winning romance writer who lives in Western New York with her husband, Inspiration, and her daughter, Too Cute for Words. When not writing she enjoys watching hockey and hanging out online.

 

First and Ten: Let the Games Begin by Destiny Blaine

Champagne Book Group and Destiny Blaine team up to bring sports romance readers a new line of sports romance novellas

Coming to Champagne Book Group and Carnal Passions on September 2, 2013

 

First and TenFirst and Ten: Let the Games Begin

“A Swinging Gate Sports Romance”

Tagline/Logline:   In love and romance, true winners are only determined by how long their hearts stay invested in the game.

Back cover blurb:

Football superstar Kemper Kapertone is caught in a compromising position. Thrust into a media frenzy, Kemper flies across the country hoping to save a relationship now shattered beyond repair.

Tired of waiting on the sidelines, Kara Ball decides the role of jilted lover doesn’t work for her. Kara springs into action and pursues her sexy neighbor, an irresistible Dom who is twenty-seven years her senior and the object of her most recent fantasies.

Zak Stone stops by Kara’s condominium to drop off a parcel, but after the sexy seductress learns of her boyfriend’s engagement, plans change.  Soon, Kara opens up a package filled with illicit toys and the naughty ideas start churning.

While Kemper races against time to set things right, Kara invites Zak to stay overnight, hoping an evening of passion will keep him coming back for more. Fortunately for Kara, Zak is only interested in playing for keeps.

Half page teaser:

“Are you in the business of fooling around with younger women?” she asked, working a strut like he’d never seen from her before. Leaning over to pick up the handcuffs she’d deliberately—and obviously—dropped, she wiggled her behind.

He swore under his breath, wishing he could set aside his morals for one night and take her in his arms and hold her there until he taught her a few things about Domination and submission. He’d show her why a Dominant man needed a submissive woman. He’d teach her how to willingly submit and make her understand that through her submission, she would know empowerment. She would experience a new level of intimacy.

“I’ve only been with Kemper,” she told him, acting as if her revelation was the best news he’d received in over a decade.

In fact, he would’ve preferred it then if she’d confessed to promiscuous behavior.

“You’re hurting,” he reminded her, reading entirely too much into her confession. “I’m here and you have a wounded heart, a torn soul. I can’t heal you, Kara.”

How did he tell her he didn’t want to heal her? How did he explain that while he wanted to kiss it and make it better, curing her wasn’t on his mind. He wanted to claim her. And if claimed her, he fully intended to keep her.

How did a man tell a woman that?

She took a step toward him. He took one step back.  She shot him this funny little look, crossed her arms, and for a minute, he could’ve sworn she was about to strip her shirt over her head.

He willed her to stop even though his body had already reached a decision, drawn all conclusions.

One touch and she was his. One gesture to indicate she fully intended to invite him to stay and he would give in to the long awaited temptation, the attraction he could not deny.

She moved toward him again, taking three short calculated steps as if she had deliberately analyzed the best way to separate their distance just as she’d done earlier when they’d been downstairs on her sofa.

“I can’t take his place, Kara. I can’t make the hurt go away.”

“You can try.”

Rated R Excerpt:

A door slammed and her eyes popped open. “Oh my God.”

Zak quickly pulled out, resting his forehead on her back as if he needed a moment to gain his bearings. “What the hell is he doing here?” His voice was dangerously low.

Kara shuddered. Her ragged breath came out in spurts.

How much had they heard? Worse still, how long had they stood there and watched her in the throes of pleasure, in the clutches of passion?

Carly turned away. Kemper looked at her dead on.

Zak scurried to his feet. “Don’t you believe in knocking?”

“Kara?” The color washed out of Carly’s face when she turned to the room once more. “What were you thinking?”

A hoarse cry fell from Kara’s chest. “What the hell are you two doing here?”

“I should ask you the same thing,” Kemper said.

“As if you have a right!” Kara’s blazing fury shook through her body. To make matters worse she was still tied and bound, slumped in a doggie-style position on the contraption Kemper had sent her as a gift.

All things considered, it probably wasn’t the best time to let him know how much she appreciated his thoughtfulness, even though she was tempted.

Zak stood in front of her with his hands blocking his cock. “Can you give us a minute?”

“What the hell are you doing to my girlfriend?” Kemper stalked him then.

Kara tried to wiggle one way or another in an effort to free herself. “Why aren’t you on your honeymoon?”

“Psht!” Carly exclaimed, though she didn’t bother with a true reply.

Kemper clenched his fists and glared at Zak. “If I were you, buddy, I’d get lost.”

“I’d listen to him,” Carly said.

Kara grabbed an opportunity to glare at her best friend. “Just who are you to tell us what to do?”

“The friend who loves you,” Carly assured her. “I’m concerned about you, Kara. Clearly, you aren’t thinking straight.”

“I’ve never been so sure and confident in my life,” she snapped, turning her attention to Zak. “Don’t go, Sir.”

“What?” Carly and Kemper chimed in together.

“I’m not going anywhere, baby,” Zak said, grabbing his towel and wrapping it around his waist before pulling a sheet off the bed and covering Kara’s body. Dipping his hands under the coverlet, he blindly fumbled with the shackles in an effort to free her. “The two of you should wait downstairs. We weren’t expecting company at four-thirty in the morning.”

“We?” Kemper pushed by Zak and glared at Kara. “And what is this Sir shit?”

Kara glared at Carly and thinned her lips, silently pleading with her friend to take Kemper and go. Instead of aiding her, Carly asked, “What in the hell is that doohickey you’re wearing?”

Kemper bit out, “I sent her all these things so she would get used to the idea of Domination and submission!”

Carly scowled. “You?” She shoved her balled fists against her waist. “You didn’t get very much bang for your buck now did ya?” She glanced around the room. “How’d all this work out for you, babe? Hmm?”

Kemper’s face turned blood red. “I think she’s got the hang of it.”

“Considering I don’t receive gifts like these and I’m the one who loves the lifestyle, maybe you should ask yourself if you gave the right presents to the right woman. If I’d been in a contraption like that, you can bet your sweet ass you would’ve been the one coming in from behind!” Carly threw up her arms and stormed out of the room.

Kemper ignored Carly and stood over Kara, acting as if he were taking in the whole scene. “Have you been seeing one another long?”

“No.” Zak supplied the answer.

“I didn’t ask you!” Kemper never looked away from Kara.

“Obviously not,” Kara bit out. “The package just arrived today.”

“Be a gentleman and wait downstairs for us,” Zak said.

“I am not talking to you!” Kemper yelled, his muscles bulging around his short sleeves. He acted as if he were seconds away from taking that first swing.

Kemper had always been slow to anger, but when that ugly beast rose to the fore, he went berserk. She didn’t want to witness a fight. She just wanted Kemper and Carly to go.

“Please wait downstairs.” Kara couldn’t believe this was happening. “Please.”

“Why would you do this?” Kemper dragged his hand from forehead to chin. The slow act brought on a noticeable transformation. A furious expression replaced the face of betrayal and confusion.

Zak placed his hand on his shoulder. “You heard the lady. She wants you to wait—”

“Get your hands off me!” Kemper screamed, shrugging away from him. “You don’t want to go up against me, buddy!”

“She wants you to wait downstairs and you can do that now or I can call the police. Take your pick.”

Kemper laughed and another demeanor emerged, one Kara hadn’t seen in the past. He glared at her like he saw straight through her. “He doesn’t know. Does he?”

“Know what exactly?” Zak knelt next to her again and finished unbuckling the restraints. He helped her to her feet. “What don’t I know?”

Kara met Zak’s curious gaze, but she couldn’t speak. She knew what Kemper wanted her to tell him, but she couldn’t bring herself to say the words. If she voiced them then, she would feel like such a kept woman.

She studied Kemper and gauged his behavior. That was precisely what he wanted her to feel like in that very moment—a kept woman, somebody’s whore, and his little puppet.

Slow to regain her balance, she grabbed the bedpost and held the white linen sheet to her chest. Her bottom was sore with the recent reminder of what she’d done and with whom.

Both men stood side by side. She couldn’t hide from either of them. She couldn’t run, because where would she go? Carly returned to the room with her arms crossed. She was equally pissed, but Kara couldn’t figure out why.

At the moment, Kara didn’t care. Carly had known she was infatuated with her neighbor. Hadn’t she suspected something like this would eventually happen?

“She won’t tell you, so I will,” Kemper said, stomping across the room to the walk-in closet. Swinging the door wide, he shook his finger inside. “Those clothes are my clothes. This is my bedroom. This is my condo.” He swung around and waved his finger in Kara’s direction. “And that woman—regardless of what happened here—is my fucking woman!”

Buy Links:

Carnal Passions

Amazon

Biography:

International bestselling e-book and trade paperback author Destiny Blaine writes in all genres using several pseudonyms. Destiny lives in East Tennessee with her husband and four pampered dogs. Her daughter is in college and her son is serving in the United States Navy. For more information, visit her website at www.destinyblaine.com and follow her on Twitter at www.Twitter.com/DestinyBlaine or Facebook. To access her street team information, visit The Wild Pack.

 
© 2018 K D Grace
The Romance Reviews

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