Audio Tour, Uncategorized

Leaning Into Forever Audio

Title: Leaning Into Forever Audio
Series: Leaning Into Stories, #7
Author: Lane Hayes
Narrator: Nick J. Russo
Publisher: Lane Hayes
Release Date: August 9th, 2018
Heat Level: 4 – Lots of Sex
Pairing: Male/Male
Length: 7 hrs and 31 mins
Genre: Romance, Comfort, Healing , Heartbreak, New Beginnings, Contemporary Romance

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Synopsis

Geordie de la Rosa is a legend among wine lovers in Napa Valley. His ultra-fabulous style paired with a penchant for leading impromptu sing-a-longs has made him a star attraction at Conrad Winery. Co-owning a well-respected winery was never Geordie’s aspiration but he likes the niche he’s made for himself. He won’t deny that his job and his friends have helped ease his heartache and grief after the death of his longtime partner.

Levi Yeager excels at the art of reinventing himself. He’s been a minor league baseball player, a college coach and now a restaurant owner. The problem is he doesn’t know a thing about the food business. And when his chef quits unexpectedly, he’s afraid his new venture is doomed. But Levi isn’t a quitter. It may be the only thing he has in common with the beautiful, sassy man from the neighboring winery who agrees to help get his new business up and running. Neither man counts on their fast friendship or the wild attraction they feel for each other. However, they know they won’t stand a chance until they let go of the past and lean into forever.

Excerpt

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“My game is coming back. If I keep
talking and you keep listening, you’ll eventually warm up to me. Where was I?”
“The psychology of alliterations,” I
deadpanned.
“Right. Your tone is imperial, you use
alliterations like a poet and you dress like a diva. You’re pleasant to
strangers but you hold them at bay. You’re kind but controlled. Most likely you
were an elite member of a royal family in a former life.”
“You’re probably right,” I said, amused
in spite of myself. “Since you have me figured me, let me see if I can do the
same.”
“Be my guest.” Levi made a sweeping
motion with his left arm before resting it on his steering wheel. The casual
gesture was ripe with potent masculinity. And I hated that I noticed.
I tore my gaze from his stubble jaw and
cleared my throat. “You’re a newly out sports enthusiast at a crossroad.”
“Sports enthusiast at a crossroads,” he
repeated with a laugh. “I guess that’s better than has-been athlete looking for
a new gig.”
“As you said, I do have a way with words
and I’m a firm believer it’s crucial to accentuate the positives.” I set my
hand over his without thinking then pulled back when a familiar spark of
awareness skittered along my spine.
Levi smirked. “You’re weird. I like
you.”
“Thanks. I like you too. Platonically of
course,” I added.
“Of course. What exactly is my
crossroad?”
“I’m not sure. Perhaps you quit your job
to try a new venture with this lover who dumped you and now you’re heading to
LA to woo him back—”
“Not a chance,” he snapped.
I raised a brow at his vehemence.
“Or…you’re going on a fact-finding mission to salvage what you can of your
original idea and determine what comes next.”
Levi nodded. “Closer.”
“Have you thought about selling the
diner?”
“Yes. But I’m not going to.”
“Why not?”
“I have nothing to lose. And you know
what? It’s kinda liberating. No net required ’cause I’m already free falling.
Have you ever felt that way before, Geord?”
Every fucking day.
Silence fell like a blanket between us.
Soft and warm and safe.  I didn’t want to
break the quiet but I couldn’t allow myself to be pulled under either.
I licked my lips and whispered, “Yes.”
Suddenly, I couldn’t move and I couldn’t
look away. Maybe I was a sucker for ruggedly handsome men who weren’t ashamed
to reveal their vulnerable sides. I admired that he made free-falling sound
like an adventure. I’d been doing it for nearly four years and my outlook was
nothing like Levi’s. I worked my ass off to make sure no one knew how tired and
raw and afraid I felt every damn day. I clung to the best parts of my past like
a lifeline, hoping my ghosts would ease the inevitable ‘splat on the concrete’
nosedive I had coming my way.
Levi’s story was certainly different,
but I recognized something in him I knew too well. A desperate spirit that
wasn’t quite ready to give up. I’d like to think that sense of acknowledgment
was why I leaned across the console, closed my eyes and pressed my lips against
his.

 

Listen to a sample & purchase at Audible

Meet the Author

Lane Hayes is grateful to finally be doing what she loves best. Writing full-time! It’s no secret Lane loves a good romance novel. An avid reader from an early age, she has always been drawn to well-told love story with beautifully written characters. These days she prefers the leading roles to both be men. Lane discovered the M/M genre a few years ago and was instantly hooked. Her debut novel was a 2013 Rainbow Award finalist and subsequent books have received Honorable Mentions, and won first prize in the 2016 and 2017 Rainbow Awards. She loves red wine, chocolate and travel (in no particular order). Lane lives in Southern California with her amazing husband in a newly empty nest.

Website | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads | Amazon

Meet the Narrator

Nick is an award winning narrator with a fan following for his work in fiction, specifically in the romance genre. His performances in two of Amy Lane’s books, Beneath the Stain and Christmas Kitsch, made him the recipient of Sinfully M/M Book Review’s Narrator of the Year – 2015. When he’s not in the booth, Nick enjoys spending time with his wife, Jessica, and kids, (aka their beagle Frank and cat Stella), drumming in his cover band, exploring rural back roads with his wife on his motorcycle, or being enthralled in a tabletop role playing game with his friends.

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Blog Tour, Uncategorized

The Ruthless Sadist

 

ARE YOU READY FOR THIS? 


Definition of sadism

1: the derivation of sexual gratification from the infliction of physical pain or humiliation on another person — compare masochism, sadomasochism

2 a : delight in cruelty b : excessive crueltyDefinition of masochism

1: the derivation of sexual gratification from being subjected to physical pain or humiliation by oneself or another person — compare sadism, sadomasochism

2: pleasure in being abused or dominated : a taste for suffering

Note from Nicole: This is a MMM book. It is a romance and is darker than most of the books I have written. This book contains hardcore BDSM, including Sadomasochism (the giving or receiving pleasure from acts involving the receipt or infliction of pain or humiliation). Some elements may not be for all readers, so if you are not into this sort of thing, I would highly suggest you opt out of this one.

 


Are you sure you are ready for…

THEIR RUTHLESS SADIST


Release date: September 4th, 2018

Cover Image Copyright © ​ Wander Aguiar Photography
Cover Model(s):Tug James

By definition, a Sadist is one who receives sexual gratification from causing pain and degradation to another.

That’s me to a T.

I only play with those who understand what it means, those who are willing to indulge my devious desires.

Any masochist who seeks me out knows that if they trespass, I will gladly shatter them and walk away, leaving them for someone else to put back together.

Yet the cowboy and the pretty boy have given themselves to me. They have agreed to play by my rules and there is only one: THERE ARE NO RULES.

I have warned them. I’m not looking for companionship or love. I don’t want to be their friend, their confidante, or their lover. I’m in it for pleasure only. In the form of pain.

I am ruthless.

I am a Sadist.

And I make no excuses for it. 






THIS WAS MY SAFE HAVEN.
This was where I fit in.

This was the one place I could go where I didn’t get wary eyes pinning me in place, curious as to whether I was going to do some serious damage.

I was used to those looks, the ones from strangers who weren’t sure what to do with the man who didn’t buy his clothes off the rack because even the big-and-tall store didn’t know how to outfit six foot eight inches, two hundred eighty pounds of solid muscle.

​No, here in the club, I was the giant with a sadistic streak a mile wide, a Dominant every masochist hoped would look his or her way. I was the king in this particular realm, the man who wielded all the power.

And just like every other time I was in the club, I gauged the submissive pool, wondering which of these eager fuck toys would become my plaything for the evening. I would bring at least one to tears tonight, of that I had no doubt. It was my mission, my goal in life. I wanted to break them, to hear them beg and plead, tears streaming down their faces as I brutalized them the way they fantasized about.
Some people craved sugar. I craved doling out pain.

While they were prancing around in an attempt to catch my attention, I was trying to figure out which submissive could handle me. Even if only for a few minutes. Which one I wouldn’t cause irreparable damage.

I had yet to meet the one who could endure the darkest side of me. I figured one day I would find him, but I wasn’t holding my breath.

“Master Zeke?”

I turned to see a sweet little fluff of a girl with wild eyes and glossy lips, weighing in at a buck five soaking wet. I knew without asking what she wanted from me. This one wanted a firm hand, someone to smack her ass and make her beg for mercy while she giggled and pleaded for more. If I had to guess, she’d heard about me, knew the pain I ached to bestow, and she hoped to experience it for herself.

I knew her type. She was too soft, too sweet. No way would she allow me to have my way with her, to treat her like a piece of furniture, to manhandle her before I breached her virgin ass with my nine-inch cock. Hell, her ass wasn’t even as big as my fucking hand. I would likely fracture her if I attempted to spank her the way I needed.

She couldn’t handle me on her best fucking day.

Those big eyes peered up at me full of hopeful anticipation. She wanted the big, bad Sadist to toss her around a little, then pull her close and shower her with praise and attention.

I was not that man.

“Sorry, sweetheart. Not in this lifetime.” I shooed her away with a flick of my hand, dashing that hope in an instant. She wasn’t my type.

Not only did I want a man, I needed a man. One with power and stamina, hide as tough as leather, an ass made to be plowed, a throat strong enough to take the brutal pounding of my cock.

A scene caught my eye and I sauntered over, crossing my arms over my chest as I stared over the heads of the other bystanders. I couldn’t see the submissive’s face because he was facing away from me, his hands cuffed above his head, legs spread, ankles chained to hooks in the floor. Long limbs, thick muscle, juicy ass.

It was the tattoo blazed across his back that caught my attention. A dragon rose up along his spine, wide body curling over his shoulder blade, the head disappearing on his other side, lying over his chest.

I knew this because it was a tattoo I’d seen before.

Recently, in fact.

I watched as the baby Dom laid the flogger tails across the submissive’s broad shoulders, hitting hard enough to thud but not nearly hard enough to leave a mark. The submissive’s body was rigid, but not from shock or pain.

“What’s your color, sub?” the baby Dom questioned.

Sadist Rule One: Colors are for kindergartners.

“Green, Sir,” the submissive said with a bored monotone that would’ve been obvious to an infant.

“You want more?” the baby Dom asked.

Sadist Rule Two: Don’t ask what they want.

“Yes, Sir,” he replied, no inflection in his tone.

The baby Dom swung the tails again and again, over the man’s ass, the backs of his thighs. There was no power in his swing, no effort to inflict pain whatsoever. It was the equivalent of a fucking massage.

“Tell me when you’ve had enough,” the baby Dom told the submissive.

Who the hell was this asshole and where did he think he was? This submissive wasn’t here to play Twenty Questions. Dominants didn’t ask permission, they set up the structure beforehand, had a plan and an end goal. A good Dominant didn’t ask them what they wanted. A good Dominant merely gave it to them because that was what they needed.

After a few more swings, the baby Dom turned and I noticed he was covered in sweat. He’d been at this a while from the looks of it. His eyes met mine and I instantly recognized the respect there. I got it everywhere I went. Not because of my size, either. I’d earned it. And I’d come to expect it.

“Master Zeke,” he said, grabbing a bottle of water while he clearly took a break.

Sadist Rule Three: A submissive should not wear out the Dom.

Yeah. Fine. I just made that one up.

I nodded to the sweaty baby Dom, but my eyes shifted back to the submissive. I could envision myself standing behind him with my whip, applying the stinging burn from the knotted ends that would have him jerking and twitching, his cock so hard he could hardly breathe from the need to come.

That thirty-five-tail deerskin flogger the baby Dom wielded was the equivalent of a feather as far as this particular masochist was concerned. An attentive Dominant would’ve known that.

I glanced back at the baby Dom, who was clearly out of sorts, unsure what to do to make this submissive beg.

“Hit him harder,” I said, the deep rumble of my voice causing several heads to turn my way.

“What?” The baby Dom appeared confused. “I’ve been at it for thirty minutes. He’s not in the right mindset.”

Mindset, my ass. That was a Dom’s excuse as to how he’d fucked up a scene.

“You’re not hittin’ him hard enough.” I turned my attention back to the restrained man. “He’s not a goddamn toddler. Hit him harder.”

The baby Dom clearly didn’t like that I was correcting him. Not that I gave a fuck. It was a Dominant’s responsibility to see to the needs of his submissive. This fucker was failing in every respect.

“Think you can do better?” the baby Dom taunted.

I jerked my gaze over and cocked an eyebrow. This time, his tone lacked any respect whatsoever. Normally, I would shrug it off, but there was something about this situation that didn’t sit right with me.

“I don’t think I can. I know.” The crowd parted as I moved forward. When the baby Dom held out his little toy, I chuckled. “Your five-and-dime toy’s useless.”

The baby Dom huffed, then turned to walk away.

“Uh-uh,” I snarled. “You stay and watch.” I leaned in closer to him, keeping my voice low so no one else could hear. “And don’t you ever disrespect me again. Understood?”

The baby Dom’s eyes widened, but he managed a jerky nod.

“Good.” I turned my back to him and focused my attention on the masochist.

Wanting to get a feel for the submissive’s state of mind, I walked over and pressed myself against his back, leaning down and putting my mouth close to his ear.

“Tell me what you need, pretty boy.”

The pretty boy’s head shifted only slightly. “Pain, Zeke. I need pain.”

“Do you want me to deliver it? And remember, I don’t provide aftercare. I’ll ensure you fly, but I won’t bring you down after.”

“Yes,” he said on a breathless moan. “Yes, Zeke. I want you to deliver it.”

“Tell me your safe word.”

“Red, Zeke.”

“I trust you to use it should you need it.”

He nodded and I stepped back, allowing my gaze to run the length of his naked form as I retrieved the whip I had attached to my belt.

It was time to show the pussy Dom exactly how to handle a masochist.

And it was time to show this squirrelly pretty boy exactly what it meant to submit to me.

The question was…

​Could the pretty boy handle it?
~ Copyright 2018, Nicole Edwards Limited.

 

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The most anticipated and requested follow up to any of Nicole’s books is almost here! 
 
BEAU, coming October 23rd, 2018.
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END

Release Boost, Uncategorized

Molly’s Man by Laylah Roberts

Molly’s Man by Laylah Roberts

Available Now

Add it to your TBR – http://bit.ly/2Oxpm5Y

Buy Link – https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07DWVRW2B/

This wasn’t how he’d expected his night to go. He thought he’d come to the club as usual, watch a few scenes from the safety of the bar, then go home to his cold, lifeless house. Instead he was staring down at the most beautiful woman he’d ever met. She was kneeling on the ground, not in the right position but he’d teach her that. Her hair was tied back in a long ponytail, and there was plenty of her creamy skin on display tonight. Her full breasts were barely contained in a corset that cinched in her tiny waist. She had a curvy figure, a small waist that flared out into wider hips, and a magnificent ass. That quick view he’d had of her butt just wasn’t enough to satisfy him. He moved his gaze lower, to her bare pussy. He couldn’t see much with her legs pressed together, but that was going to change. He was going to explore her pussy to his heart’s content.

His balls tightened to the point of pain. He needed a distraction. He looked around for her things, spotting her skirt and panties on a stool nearby.

“Molly, where are your crutches?”

She blinked, looking a bit surprised by the question. “Doc said I’m okay to walk without them.”

That seemed a bit soon to him.

“Your ankle isn’t sore anymore?”

“It’s fine.”

Hmm, he’d keep a watch on her anyway.

“Can you walk or do you wish me to carry you?”

“Uh, I can walk.” Her eyes were wide. “Where are we going?”

“To a quieter spot. We need to have a little chat.”

“A chat?” Was that a note of disappointment in her voice? Well, she didn’t know what sort of chat he had in mind. “Can I have my skirt and panties back then?”

“You can have the skirt, but not the panties.” He tucked those into his back pocket. “You won’t be needing them.” He didn’t even know why she’d bothered to put panties on. And if she thought she was going to keep the skirt, she had another think coming.

He held out a hand to help her up, keeping hold until he was certain she was steady. Then he watched her dress, taking in his fill. Both sets of cheeks were red by the time she’d managed to get her black skirt back on. She stared at him. “What now?”

“Now, you follow me.”

He turned and walked towards one of the dark alcoves. He didn’t glance back to see if Molly followed. Either she would or she wouldn’t.

Damn, though, he hoped she did.

Buy Link – https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07DWVRW2B/

She’s ticking things off her bucket list. Number one, find a sexy man to tie her up and spank her…

Molly knows she’s not going to live a long life. Both her mother and grandmother died young. She’s determined to fit as much fun in as she can. Starting with quitting her job and moving to Haven where the men are sexy, protective, and dominant. It’s just her luck that the man she’s most drawn to is the very serious, very strict Sheriff of Haven.

He’d lost the love of his life once, it won’t happen again…

The only thing that kept Jake going after the death of his wife was his job. Enforcing the law, following the rules, having routines and guidelines, that’s his life. Then a red-headed dynamo moves into town and rocks his world upside down. She infuriates him, intrigues him, and she pushes his comfort zone. So he decides to push back…

Contains one protective Dom and the woman who will turn his life upside down.

Buy Link – https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07DWVRW2B/

 

Laylah Roberts grew up in rural New Zealand. She worked her way through several libraries, devouring romance books. She finally worked up the courage to write her own story and she’s never looked back. She loves dominant, Alpha men who meet their match in her strong heroines. When she’s not writing, she’s busy running after her young daughter and trying to tame her never-ending pile of laundry.

You can find her here:

Twitter: @laylahR

 

Cover Reveal, Uncategorized

Endless

br />

Title: Endless

Series: Merciless Saga #4

Author: Willow Winters
Genre: Romantic Suspense

Cover Design: Lori Jackson Design

Release Date: November 13, 2018
Blurb
He holds a power over me like no one else ever could.
Maybe it’s because my heart begs to beat in time with
his. 
Maybe it’s because my body bows to his and his alone. 
Maybe it’s because he thought he loved me before he even
laid eyes on me.
He thought wrong, it wasn’t me he thought he loved, and
nothing has made me suffer like that little secret has.  He thought I
belonged to him, but he was wrong. It was never supposed to be me.
Our memories are deceiving, but I know what I want now.
What I need more than anything.
I won’t rest until he’s as much mine as I am his. 
It’s always been him.

 

 

Pre-order Links
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AMAZON US / UK / CAAU

 

AMAZON US / UK / CA / AU

 

AMAZON US / UK / CA / AU
Author Bio
Willow Winters is so happy to be a USA Today, Wall Street Journal and #1 Contemporary Bestselling Romance Author. She likes her action hot and her bad boys hotter. She certainly doesn’t hold back on either one in her writing!Willow started writing after having her little girl, Evie, December 2015. All during her pregnancy with Evie she continued to read and she only wanted to read romance. She was reading a book a day — sometimes two.

In January 2016 Willow was staying up late with Evie and just thinking of all these stories. They came to her constantly so she finally sat down and just started writing. She always wanted to do it so she figured, why not? Today Willow cannot be happier for making that decision!

 

Author Links

 

Release Blitz, Uncategorized

The Tenth Girl

 

Title: The Tenth Girl
Author: Carrie Aarons
Genre: New Adult/Young Adult
Release Date: September 9, 2018
Blurb
Never play a game
you can’t win.
For Cain Kent, that rule is golden. Losing is not in his vocabulary, and up until
now, everything has come easy. Football, school, girls … his charm-laced ego
may just be bigger than Texas itself.

The competition he started freshman year with his friends, to make ten notches
each in their bedposts by graduation day, is practically in the bag. One more
to go, and then it’s off to college fame and eventually, the big time.
Attachments aren’t something he wants to form, but when the quiet new girl
challenges him in front of his classmates, his curiosity is peaked. She would
be the perfect final score, and what fun to break her in the process.

Too bad Harper Posy has no intention of being just another warm body,
especially to the bad boy quarterback. Even if he does quote Forster and Huxley
when no one is listening. An aspiring author herself, Cain and his hidden soft
side are dangerous to her heart. She’s seen men ruin her mother’s dreams time
and again, and she’s determined to fly far away as soon as she has that diploma
in her fist.

But as the school year’s end looms closer, both realize they didn’t quite
understand the rules to begin with. Is winning a dirty bet worth the gamble
when the stakes, or the other’s heart in this case, are so high?

Harper is the one girl who isn’t up for playing games. And she just might make
Cain lose. Everything.

 

ADD TO GOODREADS 

Purchase Links

99c for release day ONLY!

AMAZON US / UK / CA / AU

Free in Kindle Unlimited

Author Bio

 

Author of romance novels such as Red Card and Privileged,
Carrie Aarons writes books that are just as swoon-worthy as they are sarcastic.
A former journalist, she prefers the stories she dreams up, and the yoga pant
dress code, much better.
When she isn’t writing, Carrie is busy binging reality TV, having a love/hate
relationship with cardio, and trying not to burn dinner. She lives in the
suburbs of New Jersey with her husband, daughter and dog.

 

 

Author Links

 

 

Blog Tour, Uncategorized

THEIR RUTHLESS SADIST

ARE YOU READY FOR THIS? 


Definition of sadism

1: the derivation of sexual gratification from the infliction of physical pain or humiliation on another person — compare masochism, sadomasochism

2 a : delight in cruelty b : excessive crueltyDefinition of masochism

1: the derivation of sexual gratification from being subjected to physical pain or humiliation by oneself or another person — compare sadism, sadomasochism

2: pleasure in being abused or dominated : a taste for suffering

Note from Nicole: This is a MMM book. It is a romance and is darker than most of the books I have written. This book contains hardcore BDSM, including Sadomasochism (the giving or receiving pleasure from acts involving the receipt or infliction of pain or humiliation). Some elements may not be for all readers, so if you are not into this sort of thing, I would highly suggest you opt out of this one.

 


Are you sure you are ready for…

THEIR RUTHLESS SADIST


Release date: September 4th, 2018

Cover Image Copyright © ​ Wander Aguiar Photography
Cover Model(s):Tug James

By definition, a Sadist is one who receives sexual gratification from causing pain and degradation to another.

That’s me to a T.

I only play with those who understand what it means, those who are willing to indulge my devious desires.

Any masochist who seeks me out knows that if they trespass, I will gladly shatter them and walk away, leaving them for someone else to put back together.

Yet the cowboy and the pretty boy have given themselves to me. They have agreed to play by my rules and there is only one: THERE ARE NO RULES.

I have warned them. I’m not looking for companionship or love. I don’t want to be their friend, their confidante, or their lover. I’m in it for pleasure only. In the form of pain.

I am ruthless.

I am a Sadist.

And I make no excuses for it. 






THIS WAS MY SAFE HAVEN.
This was where I fit in.

This was the one place I could go where I didn’t get wary eyes pinning me in place, curious as to whether I was going to do some serious damage.

I was used to those looks, the ones from strangers who weren’t sure what to do with the man who didn’t buy his clothes off the rack because even the big-and-tall store didn’t know how to outfit six foot eight inches, two hundred eighty pounds of solid muscle.

​No, here in the club, I was the giant with a sadistic streak a mile wide, a Dominant every masochist hoped would look his or her way. I was the king in this particular realm, the man who wielded all the power.

And just like every other time I was in the club, I gauged the submissive pool, wondering which of these eager fuck toys would become my plaything for the evening. I would bring at least one to tears tonight, of that I had no doubt. It was my mission, my goal in life. I wanted to break them, to hear them beg and plead, tears streaming down their faces as I brutalized them the way they fantasized about.
Some people craved sugar. I craved doling out pain.

While they were prancing around in an attempt to catch my attention, I was trying to figure out which submissive could handle me. Even if only for a few minutes. Which one I wouldn’t cause irreparable damage.

I had yet to meet the one who could endure the darkest side of me. I figured one day I would find him, but I wasn’t holding my breath.

“Master Zeke?”

I turned to see a sweet little fluff of a girl with wild eyes and glossy lips, weighing in at a buck five soaking wet. I knew without asking what she wanted from me. This one wanted a firm hand, someone to smack her ass and make her beg for mercy while she giggled and pleaded for more. If I had to guess, she’d heard about me, knew the pain I ached to bestow, and she hoped to experience it for herself.

I knew her type. She was too soft, too sweet. No way would she allow me to have my way with her, to treat her like a piece of furniture, to manhandle her before I breached her virgin ass with my nine-inch cock. Hell, her ass wasn’t even as big as my fucking hand. I would likely fracture her if I attempted to spank her the way I needed.

She couldn’t handle me on her best fucking day.

Those big eyes peered up at me full of hopeful anticipation. She wanted the big, bad Sadist to toss her around a little, then pull her close and shower her with praise and attention.

I was not that man.

“Sorry, sweetheart. Not in this lifetime.” I shooed her away with a flick of my hand, dashing that hope in an instant. She wasn’t my type.

Not only did I want a man, I needed a man. One with power and stamina, hide as tough as leather, an ass made to be plowed, a throat strong enough to take the brutal pounding of my cock.

A scene caught my eye and I sauntered over, crossing my arms over my chest as I stared over the heads of the other bystanders. I couldn’t see the submissive’s face because he was facing away from me, his hands cuffed above his head, legs spread, ankles chained to hooks in the floor. Long limbs, thick muscle, juicy ass.

It was the tattoo blazed across his back that caught my attention. A dragon rose up along his spine, wide body curling over his shoulder blade, the head disappearing on his other side, lying over his chest.

I knew this because it was a tattoo I’d seen before.

Recently, in fact.

I watched as the baby Dom laid the flogger tails across the submissive’s broad shoulders, hitting hard enough to thud but not nearly hard enough to leave a mark. The submissive’s body was rigid, but not from shock or pain.

“What’s your color, sub?” the baby Dom questioned.

Sadist Rule One: Colors are for kindergartners.

“Green, Sir,” the submissive said with a bored monotone that would’ve been obvious to an infant.

“You want more?” the baby Dom asked.

Sadist Rule Two: Don’t ask what they want.

“Yes, Sir,” he replied, no inflection in his tone.

The baby Dom swung the tails again and again, over the man’s ass, the backs of his thighs. There was no power in his swing, no effort to inflict pain whatsoever. It was the equivalent of a fucking massage.

“Tell me when you’ve had enough,” the baby Dom told the submissive.

Who the hell was this asshole and where did he think he was? This submissive wasn’t here to play Twenty Questions. Dominants didn’t ask permission, they set up the structure beforehand, had a plan and an end goal. A good Dominant didn’t ask them what they wanted. A good Dominant merely gave it to them because that was what they needed.

After a few more swings, the baby Dom turned and I noticed he was covered in sweat. He’d been at this a while from the looks of it. His eyes met mine and I instantly recognized the respect there. I got it everywhere I went. Not because of my size, either. I’d earned it. And I’d come to expect it.

“Master Zeke,” he said, grabbing a bottle of water while he clearly took a break.

Sadist Rule Three: A submissive should not wear out the Dom.

Yeah. Fine. I just made that one up.

I nodded to the sweaty baby Dom, but my eyes shifted back to the submissive. I could envision myself standing behind him with my whip, applying the stinging burn from the knotted ends that would have him jerking and twitching, his cock so hard he could hardly breathe from the need to come.

That thirty-five-tail deerskin flogger the baby Dom wielded was the equivalent of a feather as far as this particular masochist was concerned. An attentive Dominant would’ve known that.

I glanced back at the baby Dom, who was clearly out of sorts, unsure what to do to make this submissive beg.

“Hit him harder,” I said, the deep rumble of my voice causing several heads to turn my way.

“What?” The baby Dom appeared confused. “I’ve been at it for thirty minutes. He’s not in the right mindset.”

Mindset, my ass. That was a Dom’s excuse as to how he’d fucked up a scene.

“You’re not hittin’ him hard enough.” I turned my attention back to the restrained man. “He’s not a goddamn toddler. Hit him harder.”

The baby Dom clearly didn’t like that I was correcting him. Not that I gave a fuck. It was a Dominant’s responsibility to see to the needs of his submissive. This fucker was failing in every respect.

“Think you can do better?” the baby Dom taunted.

I jerked my gaze over and cocked an eyebrow. This time, his tone lacked any respect whatsoever. Normally, I would shrug it off, but there was something about this situation that didn’t sit right with me.

“I don’t think I can. I know.” The crowd parted as I moved forward. When the baby Dom held out his little toy, I chuckled. “Your five-and-dime toy’s useless.”

The baby Dom huffed, then turned to walk away.

“Uh-uh,” I snarled. “You stay and watch.” I leaned in closer to him, keeping my voice low so no one else could hear. “And don’t you ever disrespect me again. Understood?”

The baby Dom’s eyes widened, but he managed a jerky nod.

“Good.” I turned my back to him and focused my attention on the masochist.

Wanting to get a feel for the submissive’s state of mind, I walked over and pressed myself against his back, leaning down and putting my mouth close to his ear.

“Tell me what you need, pretty boy.”

The pretty boy’s head shifted only slightly. “Pain, Zeke. I need pain.”

“Do you want me to deliver it? And remember, I don’t provide aftercare. I’ll ensure you fly, but I won’t bring you down after.”

“Yes,” he said on a breathless moan. “Yes, Zeke. I want you to deliver it.”

“Tell me your safe word.”

“Red, Zeke.”

“I trust you to use it should you need it.”

He nodded and I stepped back, allowing my gaze to run the length of his naked form as I retrieved the whip I had attached to my belt.

It was time to show the pussy Dom exactly how to handle a masochist.

And it was time to show this squirrelly pretty boy exactly what it meant to submit to me.

The question was…

​Could the pretty boy handle it?
~ Copyright 2018, Nicole Edwards Limited.

 

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Wrecked For You by Kristin Mayer

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My life was set.

In five months I would be engaged to a man I didn’t love.

In fifteen months I would marry someone who didn’t love me.

It was a carefully calculated script thought out by those who had the most to gain. The same people who thought happiness came from money.

Everything was going according to plan until I met Hayden Foster. Now, I have to find a way to escape this life—my prison.

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MEET THE AUTHOR:
Kristin tries to live life to the fullest during every moment. She loves to travel, meet new people, and mark items off of her bucket list.
She loves to hear from her readers by email at kristinmayerwrites@gmail.com, on Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/AuthorKristinMayer/, on Twitter @author_Kristin, and on Instagram at kristin.mayer.
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“This book is amazing! Words can’t describe how good it is. I love student teacher books but this book is so much more than that.” – Summer’s Smexy Book Reviews

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I KNEW HE WOULD RUIN ME FROM THE MOMENT WE MET.

Everything about the man screamed confidence. Sensuality. Intelligence. Worldliness. But it was how he saved me that ruined me most.

Through him, I learned to end my path of self-destruction. I no longer needed to numb the pain with mindless one-night-stands and drunken blackouts. He made me feel worthy. Treasured. Optimistic about my future.

Here I stand four years later, in a coffee shop a world away, still broken…but beautifully so. My scars no longer hold me back. Instead, they give me strength and enrich my appreciation for the good things in life. I have hopes and dreams…faith that anything is possible. I am no longer the lost little girl fighting for survival. I have direction. I have courage. I am not without possibility.

I’ll always have Gavin to thank for that—Mr. Cooper, I remind myself. That’s who he is to me now: just a former teacher. I know what you’re thinking, but don’t worry. I was eighteen when we first met. Legally, we did nothing wrong. Morally? Well, I guess that depends on how flexible your morals are.

My name is Kat and this is my story.