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Excerpts
Click here to read a free erotic short - A Lesson in Dominance
~Devil's Dance~
"Do you need a master, little girl? I can be the one to own you."
Tessa turned, facing the man who spoke the words. Much older than she, he had graying hair, a pinched face and dull blue eyes. The leather pants he wore were laced up at the side, his gut hung over the waistband and a leather waistcoat covered his bare, saggy chest.
Tessa shivered at his repulsive offer. "Thanks, but no thanks."
He grinned. "I can be your little boy if you prefer."
Glimpsing his yellow stained teeth, she grimaced. "No, thanks."
The man huffed out his chest. "Your loss." He moved into the crowd, lost in the throng of people.
Sending up a silent thank you to whatever gods listened, Tessa found a quiet corner booth and sat down. Her gaze surveyed the scene before her. Inferno was the latest in a series of BDSM clubs opening in the area, catering specifically to a high class clientele. Tessa vaguely wondered how Yellow Teeth got an admission.
Not usually a place she'd visit, Tessa was curious. In all her sexual relationships, something had been missing. One of her female patients had described the thrill of being a submissive to a dominant master. The description sent a buzz zinging through her, a feeling rarely experienced.
It had occurred to her that maybe she was a submissive. Maybe she needed that kind of relationship. To her analytical mind it made sense. Every day she experienced control--she was always in control, always the dominant personality. Her darkest sexual desires involved relinquishing some of that tightly held control to someone else.
To a master.
~The Invitation~
A rich, throaty laughter drew her attention. Turning toward the sound, the crowd parted and her eyes surveyed the scene before her. The laughter emanated from a sultry brunette in a dress that was almost obscene. Evie guess it was fashionable on the catwalks of Milan and Rome, but for a Christmas ball it didn’t really cover a whole lot. The brunette was leaning over a man who sat in the Louis XIV chair, one of his legs was thrown over the arm. On the other side of him stood a petite blonde woman, she was a startling contrast to the brunette, but her dress was no less revealing. Even before the brunette straightened, Evie knew who sat in that chair.
Gabriel Longthorn.
The man of her childhood dreams. The man of her womanly fantasies.
Time slowly and the music became a distant echo as his gaze met hers. A predatory smile spread across his chiselled face. Both women scowled when they realized Gabriel was no longer interested in what they had to say. Evie resisted the intense urge to look over her shoulder, making sure Gabriel Longthorn was really smiling at her and not some stunning redhead who happened to be standing behind her. Unfolding himself from the chair in a way that was much too graceful for a man of his size, Gabriel moved through the crowd.
Swallowing hard, her pulse pounding in her ears, all she could do was stare. He was hypnotic. Mesmerizing. All eyes watched as he purposefully strode toward her. A smile curled the edges of his lips upwards. He was dressed in white breeches that left nothing to the imagination, black knee high boots, a white rouched shirt and a frock coat made of the finest dark blue velvet. He was the epitome of David Bowie’s Goblin King.
Standing before her, she could smell his rich, spicy scent as he took the champagne from her grasp, handing it to a passing guest. His ice blue eyes stared intently into hers.
“Miss Ward. Thank you for the pleasure of your company this delightful Christmas Eve.”
Leaning down he reached for her hand, bowing slightly at the waist, his lips brushed gently across her knuckles. His breath caressed the tiny hairs on the back of her hand. Her own breathing hitched, and she chiding herself for being so…enthralled. He was just a man. Granted he was unlike any man she had ever seen- charismatic, charming, gentlemanly, not to mention studly. But still just a man.
“The pleasure is all mine, Mr Longthorn. Though I do wonder why I received an invite.”
A predatory smile spread across his face as he looked up at her through hooded lashes. “Because, Miss Ward, you have a very fertile imagination. Sometimes we all need to take a little time to dream.”
~A Conqueror's Destiny~
Half dragging her into Hannibal’s tent, the guards manhandled her roughly onto a wooden stool. Directly in front of her was the General. He stood, towering over her, showing her his authority. A wistful smile played on her lips. This was the kind of man Parrius needed. Commanding. Powerful. Beautiful.
And he was beautiful. Magnificent. Like one of the glorious wild stallions that roamed free in the wilds of Parrius. Like him they were untameable. She saw the same look in Hannibal’s eyes as she did in those stallions. A look of defiance.
When she was able to draw her gaze from his, she turned, surveying the room. The heady scent of passion was still ripe in the air. Her gaze drifted to his rumpled bed and she wondered what had become of the women. Looking back at Hannibal it was her turn to raise an eyebrow in question. “What happened to the two females you lay with earlier?”
Cassandra knew as a warrior Hannibal would have learned to control the expressions that passed across his face. There was no indication her words had affected him, no indication except for a slight twitch in his jaw.
The twitch was replaced by a laconic smile. “Did you enjoy being a voyeur? If you had made your presence known you could have joined us. It would be interesting to see if you hair is naturally red.”
She blushed in spite of herself. Images of herself wrapped around Hannibal assaulted her senses. She refused to look away from him, no matter how much his gaze burnt into her. “I can assure you, General, everything about me is real.”
“Care to put that to test?”
The guards muffled a lewd laugh and Cassandra straightened her spine. She had not come here to be the brunt end of some crude, manly jokes. In her world she was a woman who commanded respect.
Yes, but you want him to take you. You want him to strip off your gown and find out what lies beneath. With him, you want to be a woman.
She could not deny the thoughts that ran through her mind. For some illogical reason she did want to be treated merely as a woman. For many years she had been strong for Parrius. She fought for the city, fought to retain peace with the other kingdoms. She was tired, tired of the constant battle. Now, faced with a man who shared the same burden as her, she wanted to put aside her duties and feel for once. In Parrius’ greatest time of danger all she could think of was Hannibal’s smooth caramel skin and the way he had taken the females with such dominance.
“Why are you here, wench?” His gruff voice broke her silent revere. Gone was the playful tone, in its place was the warrior. The commander.
Cassandra sighed. Her plight was not as easy as she once thought. Hannibal thought her a spy. She knew this from his tone, his stance, the look in his eye. Although she did not fear death, if Hannibal removed her head from her body in execution style, even she could not survive that. And Parrius needed her. “I come seeking you, General Barca.”
He folded his arms over his broad chest. The movement raised the cloth of his tunic slightly and she could see the crisp hairs dusting the muscle of his thighs. “What do you want of me?”
“A mere moment of your time, General.”
Doubts began to set in. Had she arrived at the wrong moment? How could she convince a steadfast General that the fate of mortal earth both present and future, rested solely on his ability to believe in the fantastic.
“Are you their latest weapon?”
Cassandra smiled. “I have been called many things but never a weapon.”
Hannibal threw back his head and laughed. “Ahhh, very good. They taught you well. Make me believe you are but a weak and feeble woman. Play on my mercy as a just man and what? Bury a knife in my heat while I sleep?” He stepped closer, crouched down onto his heels so he was finally eye level with her. “Do your leaders think me so foolish?”
The fire and contempt burnt passionately in his dark eyes.
“If I had wanted you dead, General, I could have completed the job easily and quickly while you were…” her eyes moved fleetingly to the bed…“occupied earlier.”
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