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January -> RE: My New BDSM Novella Released on Monday March 7 (3/6/2011 9:01:35 AM)
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Here's an adult excerpt from Management Skills, and a cover image....
Nothing good ever came from rushing. The perfect release came from stoking fires to near pain. He planned to teach her the ecstasy of orgasm delay. All night if he could. She whimpered softly.
Finally he undid the last button at her waist and her skirt dropped to the floor. She wore nothing underneath but a blue lace thong. Running his forefinger along the top of her thong, his breath caught. The temptation to take her was nearly irresistible.
“Make love to me now,” she whispered raggedly, rolling her hips.
“That’s what I’m doing, Silver.”
She made sounds of despair. Her unsatisfied heat made his erection throb.
Take her now. Tear off that scrap of lace and shove into her.
Determined to manage her—and his lust—he seized her curvy thighs. He turned her to face the wall. She planted her palms high, bracing herself. Arching her back, she lifted her lush ass, offering, inviting.
Inhaling deeply, he wrestled for self-control.
A tiny tattoo of an angel winked up at him. He kissed her rounded cheek. “Oh yes,” he murmured into her satiny skin, scented with woman and lilac. “I remember this tattoo.”
He laved Allie’s angel in slow strokes, making the woman, and the angel, tremble. He grasped the T of her thong with his teeth and jerked up.
She spasmed as the lacy crotch cut into her clit. Her breath sucking in on a sharp, wailing gasp, she whirled to face him. “What are you waiting for?”
Her anguish made him harder and hotter. He stood up. She was perfect, a wild sexual thing, sensitive and giving and greedy. Allie Fairfax was everything he wanted in a woman. He intended to manage and mold her sharp passion.
“I’m ready, Grant.” With a desperate cry, she pulled off her thong and pushed the damp mass against his chest. “Feel how ready I am.”
He slid his finger over her drenched clit. “Mmm. How much foreplay can you take, babe?”
“None. None at all. I—”
His lips came down hard on hers, his mouth and tongue telling her he would determine how, and when, he’d make love to her. She moaned into his mouth, submitting.
Breaking the kiss, he caught her waist and moved her across her office. She made a strangled noise. He lifted her onto the seat of the zero-gravity executive chair, pinning her waist to the mesh.
He admired the splendid, impatient woman he’d fixed to the chair. Rich and full breasts, cinched-in waist, rounded hips, a bare muff. She still wore her heels.
She was made for sex.
Her thighs fell open. Her vulnerability lashed at his control.
Slow down.
He knelt in front of her. His tongue danced over her smooth mound. Slipping and sliding over her wet clit, his tongue circled, moving back and forth, a liquid action, slow. She sobbed sharply, flailing. He forced her to stillness.
“Don’t come,” he ordered.
She whimpered but obeyed. Her submission pleased him.
[image]local://upfiles/24014/A0573D0CD7D14AABBC25CDA862760628.jpg[/image]
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