January
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Joined: 4/17/2004
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Hi,
I thought I'd post a new excerpt from my recently published bdsm novella. You can buy My One as an e-book from anywhere e-books are sold, like fictionwise and mybookstoreandmore and for the kindle.
An excerpt from
My One
Copyright © 2010 January Rowe
All rights reserved — a Samhain Publishing, Ltd. publication
Chris invited me to come sailing with him the next weekend. I’d never been sailing before, but it sounded fabulous. He told me to pack beach towels and sunscreen, and he’d take care of everything else.
I had visions of lying on the deck of a big boat, getting a wonderful tan. The sea would sluice by, and I’d watch him shimmying up the lanyard pole or whatever it’s called. He’d be stripped to the waist and I’d admire the cut of his shoulders, his powerful back. Getting thick with desire, I’d beg him to play with me. We’d dock on some island, and he’d tie me up to a palm tree and victimize me with joy.
He came to pick me up at my apartment, looking military wearing khaki shorts and a navy polo. I could see the strength of his calves, the muscles around his knees. Yummy. I looked pretty good, too. I wore a teeny-tiny green string bikini and sexy wedge sandals. My hair hung about my shoulders.
“You’re wearing that?” He looked me up and down, frowning.
I was looking for a compliment. “Uh, yes, Sir.”
“No. You’re not. Go change. Put on some shorts, a tee shirt and some running shoes. And bring a hat. I’ll wait.”
I headed off to my bedroom to take off my cute bikini and put on a tee and shorts instead. I also put on some sneakers. Once we got onto his boat, I planned to get naked.
His sailboat was called Off Call. As opposed to “On Call”, I supposed. It was a pretty ship, all clean and sparkly. I walked around his boat, praising this thing and that. He told me he was delighted to have me aboard. I imagined I’d soon be stripping, and we’d be heading off to that island.
The reality turned out to be a lot different. I got my first clue when he handed me a pair of leather gloves. They were brown work gloves, not fetish kidskin gloves.
“Put these on,” he said. “And tie your hair back. You’re going to help me sail, subbie.”
“Me?”
“Yup.” Amusement quirked his lips.
He told me how a sailboat worked, outlining the physics of sailing, pointing out the various parts and purposes of the ship. The physics I understood, but the nomenclature just about killed me. There must have been a million pieces to that boat. Clamps and ropes and pulleys and sails.
And the names were crazy. One of the ropes was actually called a sheet. Wouldn’t you call a sail a sheet? About the only part of the sailboat I thought made any logical sense was the thing called a “boom”. The boom is a hard bar with a sail attached that whips across the center of the ship when the sail is moved to take advantage of the winds. The boom is aptly named. When we finally got underway, I nearly got boomed in the head by the boom. A bunch of times.
I’m getting ahead of myself. We weren’t yet underway. We were still docked, and Chris was patiently demonstrating how to operate his boat.
“Yes, Sir. Yes, Sir,” I’d say, even though I was basically lost and anxious I wouldn’t be a very good sailor.
Finally he stopped his lessons, gazed down at me with his concerned, earthy eyes. “You’ll get the hang of it, I promise. And you can stop calling me Sir. I’m not wild about protocol.”
I blinked up at him. No protocol? My fantasy DM had been super strict. Oh, well. Time to enjoy the real man and his endless surprises.
Soon we were off.
Sailing was hard work. I needed the gloves to protect my hands. I would’ve fallen overboard had I worn my wedged sandals. As Chris promised, I got the hang of the sport. There was a satisfying rhythm to his commands, the way we moved over the water. We skimmed the ocean, barely touching the waves, defying gravity, like a horizontal rocket.
Chris had a rapturous smile on his face. “Feel that?”
I smiled back at him, happy he was happy. The earnest way he wanted to share his joy in sailing touched me. I understood his delight; I got a similar weightless sensation when I skied.
Once Chris was satisfied with our position in the open sea, he dropped anchor. I was tired, hungry and thirsty. And feeling mighty proud of myself.
I took off my gloves, laid towels out on the deck, and caught my breath. He drew a cooler up from the cabin. We sat on the towels and ate lunch. He’d made us tasty roast beef sandwiches and a dessert of sliced apples. I wolfed down the food and gulped down bottled water. Lying back on the towel, no longer thirsty or hungry, I savored the sounds and smell of the sea. The boat gently bobbed up and down.
“You have good sailing instincts, Briony.”
His praise made me almost giddy. “I like it.” I sat up and gazed at the multitude of ropes coiled on the deck. I smirked. “Are we going to an island?”
“Wasn’t planning on it. I brought some fishing gear, though. Do you want to fish?”
“No.” What I wanted was intimate recreation.
I stood up and walked over to the sailboat’s central pole. I patted it suggestively. Who needed a palm tree when there a pole? Of course there was a bunched-up sail at the bottom of the thing, but I was sure we could figure something out.
Tossing off my hat, I slipped off the scarf holding my hair, letting my hair fly loose in the breeze. Then I took off my shoes, tee shirt and shorts. I was bare-assed naked, and loving the way his eyes devoured my body. My back to the pole, I raised my arms backwards to grab onto it. I hoped I looked as naughty as I felt.
“Don’t ships need a beautiful naked woman to decorate them?” I asked.
“Are you volunteering to be my figurehead?”
Planting my feet, I arched my bare chest toward him. “You have enough ropes, sailor man.”
He chuckled. “You’d get burned to a crisp in this sun, my little bondage doll. Come lie down next to me and I’ll slather sunscreen on you first.”
I was a little disappointed he was being doctor and not sailor man. But of course I obeyed him. I lay down on the towel on my stomach, resting my head on crossed arms. He dribbled the sunscreen onto my legs. A smell of coconut wafted up. How long was this going to take? I squirmed, impatient.
“Lie still, Briony.” His strong hands massaged the sunscreen into my calves. He began to rub the lotion onto the ticklish soles of my feet.
Who needed sunscreen there? I jerked my feet away.
I felt a sharp swat on my naked ass. “I told you to lie still.”
“Ow,” I complained.
The spank aroused more than hurt. But I wouldn’t dare push him too far. Chris might have dispensed with protocol, but he expected my obedience. I stretched out my nude body and submitted to his ministrations. He rubbed my feet all over with the sunscreen, giving my toes special attention. It took all of my willpower not to jerk away again. I did groan once, though, which he graciously ignored.
Finally, he finished with my feet. He dripped sunscreen on my shoulders and my back. It felt wonderful. He knew just how and where to knead, exactly how to make me feel secure. I was soon transported, sensing only his magic hands on my body and the ship gently pitching up and down over the waves. I felt the profound serenity of the River—and I had reached it without pain, without sex, without bondage.
He continued to smooth the sunscreen over my skin in slow, strong circles. He massaged my lower back, my ass. I sighed, absorbing his sweet pressure. His slick fingers slipped into the division between my buttocks, following it to my tender folds. My heart spiked.
He rolled me onto my back. Primal heat surged through me. He looked down at my face, his hazel eyes blazing. My breathing turned shallow. He had to know how much I wanted him.
Now he’d fuck me good.
A soft and loving curve touched his lips. And then he dribbled sunscreen on my breasts. I whimpered. Not more sunscreen.
He stroked my breasts with his skilled fingers.
Chris had once accused me of being materialistic, greedy for toys and equipment. He had told me I’d learn to submit to him by the force of his body alone. He was still teaching me that lesson. I arched into his big hands, offering more. He took more. He played with my furled nipples, watching them harden and sensitize even more. I was nearly frenzied with desire.
Sliding a slick hand from my breast, he cupped my smooth mound. I couldn’t take it. I tried to thrust my hips in invitation, but he held me immobile with his palm.
His touch was proprietary and firm. I decide, subbie.
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[link: http://www.bookstrand.com/miss-you-sir] Miss You, Sir by January Rowe is available from Siren now! It's my latest smokin' hot bdsm romance.[/link]
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