29 August 2012

Masculine Beauty



by Samantha Cayto
George Bernard Shaw famously said that youth is wasted on the young. This witticism is certainly apt where I’m concerned when it comes to the appreciation of the male form. As a young woman, I sneered at overt masculinity, favoring a more androgynous look in my men. As a middle-aged woman I look back at my younger self and shake my head in dismay. How could I have squandered my opportunity to revel in the delight of six-pack abs and bulging biceps at the time of my life when I was at my own “hottest” level? It seems as if the older I get, the more enthralled I am with male bodies. This was most apparent the other day as I attended a multi-generational cook-out. The host of the party has a pool and young men frolicked in the water, showing off their bodies and their strength. Had I been their age, I would have undoubtedly sought out a pasty, willowy boy off reading in a corner somewhere. Now that I can appreciate the beauty of the more chiseled boys who play football and hockey, decorum forces me to turn away and pretend that I’m above (or beyond) all that tantalizing male flesh. Ah, well, such is the irony of life.

Happily, when I returned home, I had my own “boy” waiting for me. He’s a decade older than I am, but he still catches my eye whenever he strips down. He literally weighs as much as he did in college, which is to say, not very much. You’d be hard pressed to find an ounce of fat on him. His flesh may not be as firm as those boys in the pool, his muscles not quite as well defined, but his fitness is far more impressive than that of a younger man. It’s easy to be hot when you’re young. Much harder as we age. I actually appreciate his physique more now than when we first met. I was too young and dumb to understand how lucky I was to have him.

So, yes, George was absolutely right. I wish I had my current wisdom in my youth, or I’d be willing to have my youthful body now that I have my wisdom. I’m easy.

21 August 2012

Erotica is Not Eww!




 By Margie Church

I admit, when I first began writing romances, I was in love with purple prose. When I was working with my co-author on Razor, we read to each other. I thought I was going to die a couple times—both listening and reading to him. And then we'd burst out laughing because we caught ourselves avoiding "those words" as we talked about upcoming scenes. I'm a pretty private person and unless we're talking shop—as in the craft of writing—you're not likely to hear me using graphic language in a conversation. Well, maybe after a couple shots of Irish whiskey, one or two might slip out.
 It took some practice to become comfortable with using graphic language in my manuscripts and some words I rarely use because they make me wince. They throw me out of the story and for me, that's not a good thing for a reader to experience.

But I'd rather use the word cock than the phrase steel love meatMy apologies to those who use molten-hot love canal and moist nether regions.

After you've recovered from choking on your beverage, you kind of get my point. Sometimes a one-word adjective or noun is more erotic than some goofy sidestep around the real word.
The more experienced we get in our craft, the better able we are to convey some of these words and phrases in a way that entices or flat out makes you throb. Erotica is supposed to do that. Skilled use of dialog and setting can make even the C word make you suck your breath through your teeth, close your eyes, and think about saying that sentence to your lover the next time the opportunity arises.
So, I write erotic romance and some of it has reached bestseller status – like Night Music, my new erotic ménage for The Edge Series. Although this is a short story and The Edge Series has some wiggle room to break out of traditional romance guidelines, this is still a very romantic story. And it packs plenty of heat. From the sexy Aussie kiss on the dock through the sexual encounter of a lifetime, you might be thinking a vacation in the Blue Ridge Mountains is something you want to book soon.

NightMusic by Margie Church

A quiet, lakeside vacation is just what Brielle needs to decompress after her busy concert season. She expects the weeks to pass uneventfully. Until she meets the men next door.
Tyler and Zeke are as adventurous and sexy as the Harleys they ride. The passion they hear in Brielle's music draws them to her.
Convinced the hunks are gay, Brielle lets down her inhibitions. That turns out to be the best decision she's made in a long time.

Excerpt: Night Music by Margie Church

Brielle had stopped at the local market to get enough supplies for a few days. She had no intention of going to town unless there was a darn good reason. After her clothing and other belongings were unpacked, she opened a bottle of wine—one of several she’d bought—and contemplated the glorious evening sun.
The rumble of motorcycles disrupted her musings. She craned her neck to see who the offenders were.
Two men on leather-bedecked hogs cruised down the neighboring driveway. She watched from the seclusion of her covered porch as they got off and parked their bikes. Leather chaps covered their jeans. Boots and black leather vests made them look badass. She waited for them to remove their helmets and reveal more of their features.
She wasn’t disappointed.
One of the broad-shouldered men had flaxen hair. The second man ran his hands through his dark hair that reached his shoulders. Even from a distance, she could tell they were in good physical shape, and probably in their late twenties. A twinge of naughtiness plucked her libido. Her vacation was already looking up.
The bike-riding neighbors unpacked their saddlebags and carried their gear into their cabin. The door shut softly behind them and returned the peace and quiet they’d interrupted.
Brielle watched the sun dip lower, streaking the sky with brilliant red, orange, and yellow against the clear blue backdrop. The deep sounds of a motoryacht’s engines mixed with the haunting sounds from the loons.
Inspired, she refilled her wineglass, and then brought her cello to the three-season porch. She moved her bow across the taut strings, warming up, wondering what she should play. She sipped her wine while searching through her extensive music collection. Her hand rested on Bach’s Toccata and Fugue in D Minor. Did she dare? Could she play with even half the passion Mei Ju had the other day?
Closing her eyes, Brielle focused on the sounds and sight of Mr. Ju on stage.
Will that ever be me?
She drew her bow back and forth on the strings to play the fiery interludes and soulful chords. Brielle imagined herself in front of the orchestra, the way Ju had been, and did her best to do justice to the piece he’d played so brilliantly.
As she played the last, low note, she noticed the two men standing on their porch, watching her. Heat flared in her cheeks, whether from the exertion of playing or the embarrassment of their witness, she didn’t know.
One man began clapping.
Not expecting that reaction, she chuckled.
“Play something else,” said the man with the long hair.
Thinking they were making fun of her, she closed her music and stood. “Funny guy.”
“No, really, play some more.”
She contemplated the request for a moment. “You’re not going to call the cops?”
The blond one laughed. “Oh, hell no. Come on. Play something hot and sexy.”
Bolstered by their enthusiasm, she wondered what she could play that might fit the bill. “Just a minute.” A number of titles ran through her mind and she dismissed them all. Ah, the perfect one.


Learn more about Margie at her website: www.RomanceWithSASS.com 

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17 August 2012

The Glory of the Short Story


by Fierce Dolan
I started out writing fiction, and by started out I mean dictated stories to my mom, who transcribed them when I was wee. Fiction was always my creative love, specifically short stories. Through my college writing curriculum I embraced the brevity, the economical poetry in saying everything I needed to with as few words as possible. I reveled in what was expressed between the words, as much as the story inked into every line.
I find short stories are like decoding a painting, while longer works are a feature film. Novels give everything away, leaving little for me to scheme, bridge, undo. But short stories with their broad strokes and vivid language, they inform me of the scene, yet allow my imagination to run amok and prod the blanks.
Not only do I adore short fiction, now I’m thrilled to have the opportunity to publish it. Better yet, I get to publish short erotica! Decadent’s The Edge series is a welcomed opportunity to forego the prelude, perhaps even the foreplay, and just get right down to business. It was a perfect opportunity to unveil characters and their complexities in only a glimpse of their lives, starting with Tarik and Wo.
Tarik is an Arab Muslim, though he’s been in the western world long enough to have established a bountiful life in the United States. Wo, a young Navajo man, is proudly out but on the fringe, himself. What possible catharsis could be evoked by their chance meeting, the night of Tarik’s bachelor party, in less than 4,000 words?
On Traveler Through Darkness
A lifetime of want collides with fate the night of Tarik’s bachelor party, fulfilling his deepest secret desire—only it’s not with the strippers his Arab friends hired to cater to his every whim. Uncomfortable with the debauched festivities, Tarik ducks out of the soirée, stumbling into Wo, a kind Navajo artist, who forces him to say what he really wants, then gives it to him, all night.
From Traveler Through Darkness
“I am so sorry–” Tarik began.
“It’s okay. It was an accident.” The words were rushed as he pulled the soaked sweatshirt from his skin and fanned the dripping tablet. Black smudges coated the fingertips and heel of his left hand.
“I've ruined your work,” Tarik lamented, motioning toward the pad.
“Oh, no. It's just a sketch. I was fascinated with the moonlight on the harbor.” He flashed a charcoal rendering of the midnight water. A long, shimmering black strand fell forward of the band securing his hair, lighting just at the edge of his upturned mouth. “No masterpiece here.”
Piercing umber eyes met Tarik’s, and the gentle smile relaxed his shoulders. “You were in the ballroom earlier.”
“Mmm. The bachelor party.”
Tarik pursed his lips, nodding once. “I’m staying in the hotel. Allow me to get for you a clean shirt.”
“It’s fine. I don’t have far to go.”
“In this cold, with no jacket, you will freeze. Please. I insist—”
“What's your name?” the younger man asked.
“I am Tarik.” He bowed.
“I'm Wo.” He nodded. “Thank you for your kind offer, Tarik.”
~*~*~*~
One lucky reader who is 18 or older and comments here will be randomly selected to win a free ebook of Traveler Through Darkness. Good luck!

Enjoy Traveler Through Darkness along with the Reader’s Guide.

Bio
MezzoFiction author, Fierce is imagination shapeshifted as a scribe taunting blank pages and carpal tunnel, neither of which are much use for deadlines. Close allies are impeccable timing and a trusty masseuse. Being a switch I/ENFP doesn't hurt. For kicks Fierce has other personas across several genres, tends to fill in “Other” on surveys without explaining, and chooses the finality of the Japanese Tamagotchi.
In summary: Fierce write all kind of dirty things that you shouldn’t read, ever …
Frolic with Fierce on:

16 August 2012

Sex & the Single Woman


by Olivia Starke

As I’ve mentioned on previous occasions, my dating life is extinct. Much like the Dodo bird. Granted much of it is my fault seeing as how my little town is filled with men adorned with self-inked tattoos whose main source of income is cooking dope in their bathtubs. My standards are too high, at least according to their comments when I shoot down their advances.

Think of this guy, but with more hepatitis C and worse taste in clothing.


So yeah, much of my sex life is, er, self-motivated. I find it amusing how many men will cop to yankin’ the ol’ wienerschnitzel, but so few women will admit to riding the autoerotica train.

Some limp weiners for your consideration.

If mentioned in the wrong company you’ll be at best shunned, and lumped in with those who sell their bodies for crack. “Oh, that’s shameful. I’d NEVER do that!”  before they rattle off something about the bible and some guy spilling his seed one time, blah blah blah. That’s about the time I get an annoying Your call cannot be completed as dialed recording in my brain.
All I can say is self-induced orgasms rock, and if you’re having a bad day they’re better than Prozac. 
 
For future reference this is my orgasm face.

Not to mention knowing what works for your body is a blessing for your partner. If they’re awkwardly groping around for the magic Yeehaw! spot, being able to guide them in the right direction will benefit all parties involved. And showing them how to do it is even more fun ;;) And throwing in the toy/toys you’ve collected for your own gratification makes any ordinary love fest a plus one party.

So ladies, masturbation  isn’t a shameful thing. Jump in there if you haven’t before, and find out what an awesome time you can have all by yourself ;;)

Indulge your book fetish:


Maddie takes a weekend camping trip to forget her two timing ex-boyfriend. Instead of peace and quiet, she stumbles upon two hunks who put the wild in wilderness. And they have plans of their own—to heat up her sexless life. An evening of rowdy lovin’ is just what she needs to get over her broken heart.

When she joins them in a trio that leaves her satisfied and exhausted, they have one more surprise in store called Midnight Madness...


Excerpt: Who the hell has an orgy in the middle of the wilderness?
Reported random animal attacks had been Maddie’s concern, not the harassing sounds of sex. She needed peace and quiet to lick her wounds and sort out her life. Not the lusty grunts of some overzealous man giving it to his lady. For the past two hours.
Seriously, two flippin’ hours? She charged through the woods, ready to rain on someone’s parade. They’d just have to find someplace else to have an obscenely loud lovefest.
“God, the nerve of some people.”
She batted at a fly buzzing around her head. So what if she hadn’t had an orgasm in four months—thanks to her selfish ex-boyfriend—well, not one that wasn’t self-induced. And who cared if sex had been nonexistent while the relationship had suffered a slow, painful death.
“Men suck. Certainly no marathon lovemaking for me anytime soon.” She yanked at a limb and flinched when it lashed back against her face, knocking her glasses off. Unreasonable anger boiled over.
“Son-of-a-bitch, piece of….” She kicked out at nothing in particular, giving in to the long overdue temper tantrum. Brambles hooked around her foot and she did a face plant on the leaf-covered forest floor. My utter lack of grace strikes again. Rolling onto her back, she spit out dirt and stuck a scraped finger into her mouth. The wound smarted, distracting her from her fury. She stared at the blue sky through the budding tree limbs, sweat breaking out on her brow. The unseasonably warm spring had driven her to seek a peaceful weekend camping retreat. Maybe she should’ve opted for a hotel with air-conditioning instead. And a six pack of beer, give or take another twelve pack.
“Oh God, yes! More, more, more….” The deep, male voice echoed through the hollow.
Maddie pummeled the ground with her fists. “You oversexed freak!” Her words were drowned out by the man’s grunts.

Leave a comment for an opportunity to win one of Olivia's books from her backlist at Decadent Publishing! Don't forget to leave your email address!

Olivia Starke

  

14 August 2012

What is it About Those Greeks?


By Calista Fox

Yes, I have a small fetish. I admit it. I love Greek food, history, mythology, men, dances... Opa! The Greek’s passion for life is contagious when you’re immersed in it. Their decadence is also renowned. Apropos, I thought for a backdrop for my first Decadent Publishing short story. I Burn For You features the Greek god of love, Eros, and his naughty muses, who are charged with igniting passion in the mortal world, restoring the humans’ kefi—their zest for life. The story is released on the heels of the Olympics, one more thing I love about Greek history.

My first foray into Greek mythology came at a young age—as most of us experienced. I was obsessed with stories like Iliad by Homer. But later in life (geez, I’m really about to admit this??), I fell in love with Hercules when played by Kevin Sorbo in the TV series Hercules: The Legendary Journeys. *Sigh* I can’t be the only one to remember this series, right? It ran for six seasons in the ‘90s and had a huge cult following. This wide fan base spawned a fan fiction site on the web, and that was my introduction into romantic fiction. Of course, I can’t leave out my love of Troy, with Brad Pitt and Eric Bana. Yes, I loved Orlando Bloom, too. And Odysseus was a hottie in that movie.

Anyway, I had an idea for a short story series, but here came the challenge when I decided to write it for Decadent’s The Edge series: The words short story. Yes, I prefer writing novellas to novels, depending on the story and the plot involved, but to actually write a one-scene story that’s around five-thousand words... Wow. I found it as intriguing a prospect as it was a daunting one. But I jumped off the cliff and, thanks to Valerie Mann and everyone at Decadent, I have my first short story.

The most difficult part of the series I’m working on is that it’s erotica, and Aphrodite expressly forbids Eros’s muses to fall in love with their mortal objects of desire. But can you really expect muses to follow rules when in the throes of passion? We shall see...

Greek mythology has always been a popular subject. Do you have a favorite story, hero, god, or demi-god? I’d love to hear about it, given my never-ending love of the Greeks!

Hope you enjoyed the Olympics, and I hope you enjoy I Burn For You!


Leave a comment for a chance to win an e-copy of I Burn for You. Don't forget to leave your email address!



All my best,

Calista



10 August 2012

Dead Romantic



by JoAnne Kenrick

Dead Romantic, that's how one reader described Tales from the Coffin series. And yes, she meant it as a pun. And I couldn't be more thrilled with that 'tag', because that's exactly the feeling I set out to create when Estella decided to invade my computer with her dark paranormal tales and her own stories of woe. Yes, she may be a bitter, twisted old vampire who was stood up at the altar by Dracula. She may be still wearing her wedding dress from her almost married status, and she may spend her nights scoffing at anything male with her zombie lover and sometimes faithful servant, Lucy Rot. But let's face it. You know it. I know it. Estella is bound for love...the question is, when and where will she find it?

What's that you say? You didn't think Estella had it in her to move past Dracula, did you? To be honest, neither did I. Hey, maybe she won't be able to. It is her telling these stories, ya know. She has complete power over what does or doesn't happen.

I was certain this series would not be paranormal romance, just paranormal. And very twisted and smexy.
But it seems every time I visit Estella in her boudoir, more of her heart is revealed. She is a tough cookie to crack, but I think I know just the man...or woman...for the job. So if it's romance you want, looks like you've got it. Read the series in order to follow Estella, Lucy, and The Cruncher's love story.  Or, if you're in the mood for a quick, twisted paranormal fix that's smexy hawt...then pick one and dive in. But be warned, Estella and Lucy may be beautiful creatures of the night, but they do bite so keep those hands in!




Indulge Your Book Fetish!

NEW RELEASE BITTERSWEET SYMPHONY, Tales from the Coffin book 3

The Bone Cruncher hasn't visited in a while, and Estella thinks it’s something she did. Misery loves company, but she loves food more. Putting on a smile, she musters up an erotic story. But can she make it to the end of the tale without comfort eating? 

To onlookers, Seren lived the high life in London with her orchestra conductor of a husband. She had a major case of unrequited love for her best friend, though, so their relationship was doomed from the beginning. Divorce papers served, it’s time for her to go back to her home town on the England-Wales border and face the music.
Owen, now a postman of their little market town, is thrilled to see Seren when he shows up at her doorstep with mail. It’s not long before they’re releasing their pent up lust and love for each other. Within that mail, though, are letters addressed to Seren’s parents. They’re from her ex and hold a truth Seren is too fearful to face. Even with Owen by her side.

For buylinks, trailers and more.

Tales from the Coffin series, in order
Strange and Beautiful - out now
All the Pretty Faces - out now
Bittersweet Symphony – out now

Treacle and Treason releases October 26th: 
It’s Bonfire Night, but the fireworks in Estella’s boudoir are more impressive than any rocket or sparkler.  She has more pressing things on her mind than trivial traditions like burning the guy and crunching her canines on treacle toffee. A spot of unrequited love, and her little deady bear’s rotting body. 
What better way to distract herself than to entertain you with a ghostly retelling of the infamous Guy Fawkes and the Fifth of November legend. 

 FOR MORE ABOUT TALES FROM THE COFFIN VISIT:http://talesfromthecoffin.blogspot.com


Also watch out for Threesome Sweetness, coming soon – Irish Kisses book 3.
 


08 August 2012

We Believe in Happy Endings



A special short story by Desiree Holt 



Every romance has its ups and downs but if you're like me you always want that happy ending. Here for your pleasure the short story of two people in love stuck on opposite sides of an argument, who discover they can talk just as well with their bodies. And oh, can these two talk. Drink some ice water while you read this.

Neither of them could even remember how the argument started. One minute they’d been lying in bed, naked, breathing erratically after an orgasm that had shaken them both, the next they’d begun discussing their fantasies and after that it all went to hell.
Haley wrapped Tyler’s ratty old bathrobe more tightly around her, nestled deeper into the rocking chair on the back porch, and sipped from the steaming cup of coffee she’d just poured, trying to make sense of things. The night was warm for early spring just a tiny nip in the air, and the stars hung like crystal diamonds in the sky. The soft breeze carried the sweet smell of fresh cut hay mingled with the familiar scent of cattle and horses.
This and early morning were the two times of day she loved best. She always had such a feeling of peace, looking at what she and Tyler accomplished. Everyone thought they were crazy to give up their jobs in the city and sink every dime they had into a broken down ranch. But five years later they had a successful operation to show for it. The Silver Spur had developed a good reputation for producing quality goods.
And now, just when they were about to take the next step in their lives, this argument had erupted. The words they’d thrown at each other were so raw, so hurtful, she couldn’t begin to know how they’d get past them. She was only glad that Jody and Tucker were spending the night at her sister’s. Otherwise the shouting would have really upset them. She and Tyler always made it a point never to show anger with each other in front of the kids. That was for the privacy of their bedroom.
And always, up until now, the anger was quick and short-lived, burning out like a stubby fuse and soothed with sweet words and hot sex. Tonight they’d had the hot sex first and then the burning fuse, so now what?
She took another sip of the rich, strong brew and tried to remember all the bits and pieces of their conversation. They were lying side by side, a little tipsy on bourbon and Coke, savoring a night at home without the kids. They didn’t have to be quiet or swallow the screams that bubbled up when they carried each other to climax.
Then Tyler lifted the hand he was holding, brought it to his lips and kissed it, and said. “Do you ever have fantasies you never tell me about, darlin’?”
Fantasies? Holy hell. Of course she did. Even after eight years of marriage to a man who rocked her world she still had secret fantasies. Didn’t every woman?
Not that Tyler wasn’t inventive and accommodating sexually. Still…
But before she could try to fish one out of her mind he said, “I do. Lots of them.”
Then she didn’t know whether to be excited or hurt. Wasn’t she enough for him? Had he been harboring these secret thoughts for a long time? Damn! Why was she suddenly feeling so insecure? Was it because she’d expected the same thing from Tyler if she told him about the erotic rolling around in the hiding places in her head?
“So…what are you thinking? Two women instead of one?”
The words were out before she could shut her mouth.
Tyler sat up abruptly and looked at her with a totally shocked expression on his face.
“Where the hell did that come from?”
She shrugged, pulling the sheet up over her breasts. “I don’t know. Isn't that what men usually mean when they say they want something new and different?”
“Not this man, Haley. And I’d like to think you know that.” He rubbed a hand over his face. “Shit. I can’t even believe you said that.”
“Okay, okay.” She scooted slightly away from him. “So what did you have in mind?”
“Well,” he began, “I kind of thought I’d like to try some of the kinky things I’ve heard about. Maybe tying you to the bed or getting some handcuffs.” He grinned. “Even a little spanking on that sweet ass of yours.”
“Things you've heard? And just where have you heard them?”
“Oh, I was just having a beer with Pete the other  night and he was telling me–“
“Pete?” She leaped out of bed, dragging the sheet with her. “you discussed our sex life with Pete?”
“Haley, wait.” He leaped out of bed, realized he was naked and dug in a drawer for a pair of boxers. “Honey, it wasn’t like that at all.”
“Oh, no?” She glared at him. “Exactly what was it like? Two buddies knocking back a few beers and telling each other dirty stories about their wives?”
“Haley. Honey.” He moved toward her but she back away.
“Don’t you even come near me. Don’t touch me. Have you been feeding people all our intimate details all this time?”
“No, damn it.” He stopped and closed his hands into fists. “I haven’t.”
She looked at his hands. “You planning to hit me, Ty? Is that what’s next?”
It had just deteriorated from there. Words flew, Hurtful, damaging words that far exceeded the original topic. Finally Tyler yanked on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, kicked his feet into his boots and stormed out of the house. As soon as she heard the front door slam and the engine turn over in his truck she dropped the sheet and opened the closet door. She meant to get the robe the kids–with Ty’s help–had given her for her birthday but somehow it was his old robe that ended up in her hands and wrapped around her body.
Now she lifted the lapel and rubbed it against her face then buried her nose in his familiar scent. It flowed through her body, soothing her jangled nerves. Somehow centering her. This was Tyler, she reminded herself. The love of her life. The man she’d sworn to be with forever. The man she trusted more than an other human being.
She took another sip of coffee and thought about what had set her off. Was it what he wanted to do or the fact he’d been discussing their sex life with Pete? If it was the latter she needed to remind herself that she and her best friend, Ellie, often discussed fantasies they had. Things they were too timid to share with their husbands no matter how good the relationship. She just hadn’t ever thought about men doing the same thing.
So maybe he had his own fantasies that he was afraid to mention to her. Just like she was.
Hmmm.
Or was it what he actually wanted to do? Was that what had made her so mad? And why had it? It was no more than some of the things she and Ellie had discussed and even looked up on the Internet. They’d discovered that others enjoyed this in a whole spectrum of degrees. For some bondage was an integral part of their relationship while for others they took the parts that appealed to them as a way to spice up their sex lives.
Truth be told, she pictures they’d seen and postings they’d read had set her mind to whirling. Given time she night even have brought it up to Tyler. Asked him what he thought.
So why had she flown off the handle the way she had earlier? It seemed as if another person had invaded her body and was spewing words out of her mouth. Not that Tyler hadn’t done the same thing. The things he’d said had been just as bad. Just as hurtful. How would they ever get past this mess?
Setting her cup down on the little table beside her she made her way toward the barn, her old flip flops slapping on the gravel. Whenever she felt disturbed about anything she always headed for the horses. Somehow hanging out with her mare, Twilight, always seemed to calm her.
The mare was standing in her stall and trotted over when Haley leaned on the stall door.
“So what do you think, girl?” She rubbed Twilight’s nose. “Think Tyler and I can find our way out of this?”
In the distance she heard the sound of his truck pulling into the parking area next to house. Heard the slamming of the cab door. Where had he gone? What would he do now?
She turned away from the stall and sat down on a short bench against the wall. Her shoulder brushed something in the dark. When she reached over she realized it was a piece of coiled rope hanging on a nail. Without even thinking about it she lifted it off, tossed it so it would unravel and wound one end around her wrist, tying it off. The roughness of the rope against her soft skin sent prickles through her that were not unpleasant.
Hmmm. Interesting.
She wondered how she’d feel if both of her wrists were bound? If she was helpless before Tyler? His to do with as he wished?
The thought kicked up her pulse and set up a throbbing between her legs. She felt the wetness on the inside of her thighs, evidence of her instant arousal.
Well!
“Figuring on getting started on this all by yourself?”
The deep timbre of Tyler’s voice startled her so much she dropped the rope. She was glad it was dark in the barn so her embarrassment wouldn’t be evident.
“Um, I didn’t hear you come in.”
“I was trying to be quiet. I knew you’d come out here. You always run to Twilight when you’re upset.”
“I didn’t know where you’d gone. Or if you were coming back.”
“I didn’t get very far before I realized how stupid I was acting. And I’ll always come back to you, darlin’.”
Now he was standing in front of her, his big body outlined by the moonlight shining in through the wide opening door to the barn. She wished she could see his face. She wished he’d reach out and touch her. She wished she could peel her tongue off the roof of her mouth and say something.
“Haley?” As it always did his voice sent shivers through her.
“Yeah?”
“I’m sorry, darlin’. For everything.”
“I’m sorry, too.” The words came out in a rush. I said terrible things to you. Things I didn’t mean.”
He put his hands beneath her elbows and lifted her from the bench. “I don’t even know what came over me.”
She gave a nervous giggle. “Me, either. It was like someone else took over my body.”
He slid his hands up to cup her face. “I love you, Haley. You’re everything to me.”
“I love you, too,” she whispered, just as his mouth came down on hers.
It wasn’t a tentative kiss. Far from it. Tyler was re-staking his claim, letting her know better than words that she was his in all things and in all ways.
She dropped her hands from the robe, letting it fall open, as shed welcomed his tongue into her mouth and let her own small one glide over it. Just the taste of him inflamed her senses and she pressed her body against his. Even through the fabric of his jeans she could feel the thickness of his heavy erection.
His tongue was still dancing around the inside of her mouth when she felt something tugging on her wrist and realized he’d grabbed the rope and was pulling it behind her.
“What–?”
“Shh,” he soothed. “I saw you testing the feel of this around your wrist. Curiosity’s good, darlin’. How about seeing how it feels with both wrists bound up?”
Her heart rate kicked up at least twenty degrees and more liquid trickled from her sex. Her breasts felt swollen and tender. Impulsively she bit Tyler’s bottom lip.
He chuckled, a low, sexy sound. “That arouse you, Haley? When I first thought about it I figured it would. You’re a little wildcat, sugar, who I believe has an inner desire to be tamed. Right?”
“Only by you, Tyler,” she breathed.
“Then let’s see what happens, Okay?”
She nodded wordlessly. She could still barely see him in the dark and somehow that made it all seem more erotic.
In what seemed like seconds he had both hands bound behind her back, the robe gaping open, her body exposed to him. She heard his indrawn breath as he ran his hands lightly over the dips and swells of her body, pausing to tweak her nipples and slide his fingers into the wet heat of her sex.
“Spread your legs, darlin’.” His voice had a commanding tone to it now.
She widened her stance as best she could and still keep her balance.
Tyler bent his head to take first one nipple in his mouth then the other sucking them until they were swollen and taut.
“I think I probably owe you a good spanking for misbehaving earlier,” he told her in a hoarse voice, “but that can wait until next to me. Right now the sight of you with your hands tied up and my old robe hanging open has me so hot I’ve got to be inside you or explode.”
She sensed as much as saw his movements as he stripped off his clothes. His cock was fully erect and swollen with need. Lifting her with his hands at her waist he slowly lowered her onto his shaft.
“Legs wide, Haley, and wrapped around my waist. Now.”
She loved the tone of command in his voice. It gave a whole new dimension to their intimacy and aroused her more than she’d have thought possible.
She tightened her legs around him and sank fully onto his erection, taking him all the way inside her. A sigh of satisfaction whispered from her lips. Somehow not being able top touch him, to be completely at his mercy, intensified every sensation racing through her.
He shifted so he could back her against the wall, moving slowly so he was still held tightly inside her. Gripping her hard so she wouldn’t fall he pumped into her, his mouth seeking hers, his tongue licking her lips before plunging inside.
“Ohhh,” she whimpered as he thrust harder and deeper.
The climax when it broke over them was so intense she wondered if she might shatter. She could feel Tyler’s heart pounding against her, heard the ragged edge of his breath. Felt his arms tight around her holding her in place.
Finally, when the aftershocks subsided, he kissed her again then helped her lower her legs to the floor before unfastening the rope.
“I love you,” he repeated, his hands again cupping her cheeks. “Let’s never fight again.”
“Well,” she said coyly, "maybe just a little if the makeup sex is this great.”
“Everything between us will always be great. I promise.”
She nipped his chin. “Maybe you still ought to give me that spanking,” she teased. “Because I was such a bad girl.”
“And then we’ll make love again,” he murmured. “Because I believe in happy endings.”
“Me, too,” she told him, and folded herself into his arms. “Always.”

Copyright 2012 Desiree Holt

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