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Teaser Thursday- When I See You Smile

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Kieran paced back and forth from the door to the window in his top-floor hotel suite. He should have crashed the moment they’d walked into the room. Actually, he should have ripped off their clothes, shoved Deacon onto the bed, cuffed him, and fucked the guy stupid.

He would have done exactly that if the meeting had gone the way it was supposed to. When a record exec showed up, they were supposed to tell Kieran how amazing he was and remind him he needed to start work on another album. Even though his current one had released only six months earlier and he’d been touring almost nonstop ever since, they wanted more. It bugged the shit out of him. It was time for a break, not another visit to the studio.

Thomas Garrison, smart man that he was, hadn’t argued a bit when Kieran said he was due a break. Not that it would be a complete break anyway. He had interviews scheduled and was already working on some new material for the next album. But at least he would have a few weeks away from studios and tour venues to recuperate from the past six months of insanity.

Kieran hadn’t had a problem with being told he should start on a new album. His problem was with being told what the album should include.

“I don’t do fucking covers,” he said to the floor lamp he was walking past. “I’m Kieran goddamn West. I write my own songs. I’ve been writing my own motherfucking songs since I was in goddamn elementary school. And this asswipe thinks I’m going to do a cover?”

“If you keep ranting, is it going to change anything?” Reclined on the king-sized bed, Deke yawned and stretched, showing his abs to full advantage. He was completely nude. It didn’t distract Kieran a bit, despite how eager he’d been to plunge into Deke’s sweet, tight ass only hours earlier. “It’s one song, Kieran. One. Everyone knows Kieran West writes his own songs, but this one means something to the company.”

“It means something to Thomas Garrison, the egotistical bastard. If he wants someone to sing a love song to some girl he crushed on in high school, he can damn well do it himself.” It wasn’t bad enough the exec had asked Kieran to do a cover song on his next album. The song had to be one from the 1980s, a decade Kieran barely remembered since he’d been born in 1980. Which made him older than most of his fans realized, and older than he wanted to admit, but barely old enough to recall the damn song.

The song had come out late in the decade, and Kieran did remember hearing it on the radio at friends’ houses. It wasn’t a country song, so Grandma hadn’t played it and Kieran hadn’t been a huge fan of it. “‘When I See You Smile,’” he muttered. “One of my buddies made a tape that just had that song over and over, trying to impress a girl he liked.”

“Did it work?” Deke asked.

“Hell, no. We were freaking fourth-graders. She couldn’t have cared less.” He groaned and went back to pacing, then stopped in front of the window, which he hadn’t bothered to pull the curtains over. “They want me to do a cover.”

“Yes, they do, and saying it over and over isn’t going to change it.” Deke rolled off the bed and went to Kieran. If Deke realized half the city might be able to see his naked cock and balls, he apparently didn’t care. He rested his hand on Kieran’s shoulder, and almost instantly Kieran relaxed. Deke always had that effect on him. “It’s one song, Kieran. One song on an album that won’t even be out for another year, probably. You aren’t even ready to start recording, right?”

“Right.” He took a deep breath and turned to close the curtains. “Are you into exhibitionism or something?”

“Only for you, babe.” Deacon grinned. “Are you actually going to pay attention to the naked man in your hotel room now?”

“Fuck, yeah.” He ran his hand through his shoulder-length, choppy-layered hair, still sweaty from his time on stage. He hadn’t grabbed a shower yet, even thought that was usually the first thing he did when he reached his room. He’d been too pissed off about Garrison’s request. “I probably smell like shit.”

“You smell like sweat.” Deke nuzzled Kieran’s neck, and Kieran sighed and melted into the other man’s arms. Deke touched his tongue to Kieran’s skin. “Taste like it, too. It’s good. It’s you.”

Deke knew all the right spots to get him going, and he kept nuzzling and kissing them until Kieran was hard as a fucking rock. The damn cover song didn’t matter a bit now. He was here with his man, his hot, naked man, and he’d been neglecting him.

Spotlight on Raven McAllan

And our second Breathless Press author of today is Raven McAllan. Welcome!

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Take one virginal widow, add Molly Simpkins School of Seduction and one obliging gentleman, and what do you get? Scandal avoided and a virgin no more?

Molly Simpkins’ School for Seduction has helped many ladies of the ton to achieve their hearts desires, so helping Lady Jane Nicholby ought to be easy.

However, this young widow’s deep, dark secret means she can never remarry for fear of the scandal it would cause. Widows are not supposed to be virgins, after all.

Fortunately, Molly knows just the person to help her change this state of affairs. Persuading Luke De Freitas to fall in with her plans, though, will require all of her considerable skill.

A spot of blackmail should do the trick quite nicely…

EXCERPT:

Jane let Luke lead her from the sitting room into the bedchamber. The bed itself, an overlarge four poster, seemed to dominate the room and the intricate crisscross of silken ropes and ties were, to her mind, excessive. She liked simple plain lines. Not at all the fashion of the day, but then Jane had never been one to follow fashion. Luke caught her gaze.

“I find it exciting to bind my companion’s hands and perhaps her body,” he said in the same tone he might use to admit he enjoyed a glass of port or a day’s riding to hounds. “Only if she’s willing, of course.” His look was speculative and Jane ignored the dampness between her thighs. The only times she’d ever experience that feeling was with the help of a specially crafted darning mushroom, that had never been near a sock or a hank of wool.

“Of course,” she said in the same tone. “And are they?”

“Well, you tell me.” Luke set one of the ropes swinging. “I’m not a mind reader, mores the pity.”

“I intend to walk before I run, or swing,” Jane said and turned into his arms.

Luke held her close, and she enjoyed the feeling of rightness. “Then a cuddle it is. Do you need—” He gestured to the door leading to the bathing chamber. “Everything is in there.”

The heat of a blush prickled her skin. “Please? Oh, and my nightrail?”

“Not needed. There’s a robe in there for you to wear until you come to bed. I’m going to use the bathing chamber across the hall, and meet you back here. I’m a modern man. I bathe and expect my guests to do so after a day’s hunting. We smell, the dogs smell, and I have no intention of my house smelling as well. Cleanliness is next to godliness, and I need all the help I can get.” He went out of the room whistling, and Jane chuckled as she made use of the facilities.

She eyed the robe that was indeed waiting for her. It was almost transparent. A robe for a lover. Had he really put it there with her in mind? She took a deep breath, wrapped it tightly around her body, and hurried into the bedchamber. To her relief, she was there before Luke and scrambled into bed, still wearing the robe. It might not afford much protection, but the illusion helped her.

Should she stretch out or sit up? Pull the covers up tight around her neck or strive for nonchalance and let them sit looser? Really it was so complicated.

The door opened and her mouth went dry as Luke reentered. Water droplets still clung to his hair, and he ran his hands through it in an effort to dry it. He was dressed in a banyan and as far as she could tell nothing else. The thin material clung to his damp body, and defined every muscle and sinew. It tented over his cock, which even as she stared pushed even more at the material.

Luke saw where she was looking and grinned. “My imagination on seeing you in my bed went into overdrive, and therefore so did my—er…” He gestured downward.

Jane gulped. Really it was way too late to act the prude. She rushed into speech before he could finish his words. “Your ‘er’ is pleased to see me?” she asked.

Luke gave a delighted shout of laughter. “Oh yes, even wrapped up like a mummy you entice and enchant.”

“That’s doing it a bit too brown, Luke,” Jane said, although a thrill of excitement coursed through her at his words. “I’m an overweight, widowed virgin of thirty five, not a young deb.”

“And I thank the lord for that.” Luke pulled the banyan over his head as he stood, seeming unconcerned by his magnificent nudity, before he turned back the covers on one side of the bed. “Except you are not overweight, but a perfect handful for a man to hold and caress. Move over unless you want me to stretch out on top of you? I think that’s missing a step, but I’m game if you are?” His light tone showed her he was kidding.

Or she thought he was. Jane slid further away from him until she hit the edge of the bed.

“Not that far, woman. I want to feel every inch of your beautiful curvy thank the lord non-deb body, not fresh air. I like something warm and womanly to hold on to. Come here.” Luke tugged on the edge of her robe, and pulled her toward him. She met his body with a thump, and his cock waved its greeting. Jane gave a silly, breathy giggle as he began to walk his fingers over the cloth, bunching it up and away from her body as he did so.

His fingers stroked the side of her breast and she squirmed.

“Ticklish?” There was a wicked twinkle in his eyes.

“Yes, no… argh you…” Jane did her best to inch away, but Luke pinned her arms to her sides and before she understood what he was doing, slipped her gown down them, and somehow had her naked before she could blink.

“How on earth did you do that?” she asked, genuinely interested.

“Practice, and no. I’m not telling you who on. That part of my life is over. I’ve turned over a new leaf. I’m a reformed character.”

“One who is about to deflower a virgin,” Jane reminded him with a smile.

“Only one virgin, and then I’ll stick to an experienced woman,” Luke said.

His words hit her as surely as if he’d used a stick. So she wasn’t what he wanted. Why did it matter so?

Because I want him to want me, only me. The regret she’d had when he offered her carte blanche and she’d refused came back multiplied. Luke’s was the face she imagined, and the body she fantasized over when she pleasured herself. She tried to move away, but he rolled on top of her and pinned her between his legs. His staff rubbed her belly and she felt the wetness that leaked from it. No doubt her quim and channel were as damp.

“Tell me now, Jane; do I stop or do I make you into that experienced woman now? My experienced woman.” His voice was strained. “I swear once I take you I won’t let you go. You’ll be mine however and whatever else happens. God, I’ve wanted you ever since I saw you at Nic’s when we were at Cambridge and oh fuck, say yes, please say yes.” He ground his cock into her belly and then lifted himself so it teased her cunt.

“Yes.” She nipped the first bit of skin she could get to. His ear. It would have to do until she could nip, kiss, and touch the rest of him. He wants me; he wants me, not just anyone, but me. Jane lifted her legs and circled his waist. The movement inched his cock just inside her channel. His sweat-slicked torso rubbed her breasts, and the hairs on his chest tickled her. She tightened her legs, in the hope his cock would move even further into her, but he held back and lifted his head to stare at her. “Yes, and yes.”

“Eh?” Luke looked as astounded as she’d felt at his words.

“Yes, for fuck’s sake, fuck me. And now before I lose my courage.”

 

Available from Breathless Press.

 

BIO:

A multi-published author of erotic romance, Raven lives in Scotland, along with her husband and their two cats—their children having flown the nest—surrounded by beautiful scenery, which inspires a lot of the settings in her books.

She is used to sharing her life with the occasional deer, red squirrel, and lost tourist, to say nothing of the scourge of Scotland—the midge. As once she is writing she is oblivious to everything else, her lovely long-suffering husband is learning to love the dust bunnies, work the Aga, and be on stand-by with a glass of wine.

Teaser Thursday- Freely Bound

I wrote this once for a flash fiction submissions call. It was rejected, and I may have posted it here before, but since I don’t remember, here it is.

Sir tightens the straps around my wrists and tugs. “Is that okay?”

Unable to speak through the gag in my mouth, I nod.

He tightens the straps at my ankles and repeats his question. I repeat my nod.

Once each week for months now, I’ve visited my Sir. We started slowly, setting boundaries and safe words. Each week, he pushed me farther. Each week, I allowed it.

And now we’re here. Me, tied to the St. Andrew’s Cross, unable to move or speak until Sir permits it. Him, holding the flogger. My favorite one.

He strikes, and my skin responds as it would to his touch. Again, and my mind goes blank.

Here in this place with Sir, I don’t need to think. Sir takes care of everything. He takes care of me.

Here in this place, bound and gagged, for a brief time I can be free.