This is my first time on your blog, Summer. Thank you for having me on!
My newest erotic romance, Expecting Surrender, is finally complete and published. This sort of novel is something I’ve always wished other writers would write, tackling some subjects that might be (to some) almost taboo. It’s not taboo in the least, IMHO, so rather than wait indefinitely for a book that might never come, I just decided to write the kind of book I’d been looking for. I hope the readers enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it. This novel is an exploration of how a married couple pursue and deepen their increasingly intense D/s dynamic while navigating the joys — and difficulties — of pregnancy. I hope you’ll have a look at it ;)
Read on for the description, a hot little excerpt, and buy links. Thanks again, Summer!
They’d called it The Game. An intriguing truth or dare, a little spice to an already hot sexual chemistry between two married professionals. But what started as a mere game evolved into something so much more, a dark, exciting adventure into serious power exchange. It soon became the center of their lives, the beating, lust-fueled heart of their sexual relationship.
It was an exploration of pleasure, of pain, of elemental desire. A married couple diving deep into the waters of Dominance and submission. Like forbidden fruit, The Game had opened their eyes to the primal drives, the animal lusts lurking within each of them — and they knew they’d never be the same again.
Then came the day she’d received the surprise news… in the form of a positive pregnancy test.
Now Keihl and Kirsten, deeply in love, facing a profound, joyful change in their lives, must contemplate the prospect of putting aside The Game, just when things are really heating up. After all, pregnancy and BDSM are utterly incompatible. Right?
Or was there a way to have both? Perhaps Kirsten’s pregnancy might open up an entirely new world to them within the alluring, lust-drenched context of a loving, yet strict, Dominance and submission dynamic? Perhaps the pregnancy might change them both in ways neither of them yet understand?
Two lovers will discover if Dominance and submission, if pain and pleasure, and finding the real people they are inside is indeed still possible, now that a baby is on the way…
Publisher's Warning: Intended for mature readers. 18 and over only!
This is a contemporary MF BDSM erotic romance. The novel contains the following themes: explicit sexuality, pervasive D/s, exhibitionism, spanking, bondage, and other BDSM activities. If such content might offend you, please do not purchase this book.
It was even better than he’d imagined. He’d told her months ago he’d have her down there one day, naked, sweating for him.
She still looked back at him every few minutes, her eyes wide, her fetching blush rising.
He loved every second of this.
“Faster, girl.” He raised his palm up. “No slacking.”
The whine of the treadmill increased as the beeps sounded, her no doubt trembling finger upping the speed of the motor.
Keihl had to remember to breathe as he sat there, watching her work for him, his cock painfully hard
Her buttocks flexed and jiggled, tightened and wobbled as she walked on. At first, she walked in a sort of hunched over position, the exposure of her charms too much for her. But after a few minutes, once she’d acclimated to it, she straightened, occasionally flicking the ponytail of her dark hair free just as she would at any normal gym.
But this gym was far, far from normal. More ideas flooded in as he scanned the rest of the basement, his eyes always coming back to that gorgeous naked bottom that fairly cried out to him for caresses and spanks, kisses and lashes. Between bouts of hypnotic perusal of her round, bouncing buttocks, he looked over at the frame for the squat rack, the chrome finish gleaming even under the dull brightness of the fluorescents. He had an idea for that, but he needed to research it further, make sure it was safe. It was the sweetest form of research, a perverted scholarship he enjoyed just as much as the acts that resulted from it.
The arousal from simply watching her, in silence, was more than he’d ever anticipated. Certainly, her gorgeous, naked body always got him going, but there was something more than that here. It was the simple obedience she’d shown. He’d ordered her down here, onto the treadmill, and with a loud slap to her ass, he’d said a simple: “Get going.”
Not one word in retort from her, nor any hesitation. The motor had started up before he’d even sat down in the chair he’d placed behind the treadmill, resting his foot on the dark plastic of the frame.
It didn’t take long though before his arousal rose to the boiling point, the temptation of that vulnerable, now sweating, obedient female too much to resist.
He rose and made his way over to the tall white cabinet they used to store the small equipment — dumbbells, jump rope, Swiss balls, it was all a jumble in there.
Or it had been.
He opened the cabinet, looking back at her. She watched him, rapt, bright color high in her cheeks, a glimmer of sweat in the soft well just above her red upper lip.
Keihl threw the door wide, Kirsten’s gasp just loud enough to be heard above the whine of the treadmill’s motor. He’d sunk several hooks into the inside plane of the cabinet door. There were some new items inside the cabinet now, and they were certainly not what one would term “exercise” equipment. His fingers caressed the lengths of black and red leather hanging from hooks. He looked back at her as he lifted the length of the thick phallus on his palm.
“I made some improvements to the accessories in this gym. Do you like them?”
“Yes, Sir.” Her voice was almost a croak, and she cleared her throat. “I-I don’t think those are going help melt the fat from my thighs though.”
Keihl smiled. “Your thighs aren’t fat, my dear, so you don’t have to worry about that.”
He pulled the flogger out, the red and black leather of the falls, swaying back and forth. Before he closed the door, he slipped the riding crop from its hook too.
He wasn’t sure if Kirsten’s sharp intake of breath was from exertion — or fright.
Keihl still wasn’t completely used to the feel of the heavy, braided handle of the flogger — but it definitely felt right, the weight of it perfectly balanced. He remembered the day he’d opened the box in the quiet shadows of their living room, pleased to see Kirsten hadn’t made it home before he had. He’d tested the flogger out on the seat cushion of their recliner, the sound of it startling, the waves of thin crazy lines the falls left on the upholstery instantly getting him hard. He’d never think to strike her that hard with them — at least not now — but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t want to try giving her a really hard stroke with it one day. The crop had been much easier, all the weight in the handle, the small flapper at the end so light that it didn’t spoil his aim at all. The flex of it was surprising — he could bend it literally double, and it would spring right back to its straight, lethal form. Remarkable. When he’d pulled it from the packaging, he’d impulsively tested the crop on his leg, hitting harder than he’d intended, and even through the fabric of his slacks, leaving a swelling, throbbing weal along his calf so painful, he’d almost cried out.
It was a lesson he was glad he’d learned on himself, rather than on his beautiful wife.
Her big brown eyes followed him as he sauntered back from the cabinet, the flogger tucked under an arm, the crop slicing through the air in front of him, a dramatic gesture that had her drawing a quick, breast heaving breath.
“You didn’t know?”
He suspected she hadn’t seen them in there before, but he hadn’t gone out of his way to hide the new implements either.
The slow shake of her head and her frightened liquid gaze sent a new surge of lust through him, his balls tingling with it, the muscles of his body tense with arousal.
Be careful, Keihl.
Standing behind her once again, not saying a word, he drank in her trepidation, looking up to meet her eyes each time she looked back at him. He could smell her scent now, a combination of her clean feminine sweat, and the sharper, earthier note of her arousal. He took a step toward her, bending close, running a finger down the inside of one pumping thigh, touching a stretch of skin bright with slickness. She jerked, startled, then found her pace once more. He ran a fingertip through the clear liquid that was thicker than her sweat, and far more fragrant.
“Scared or not, you like this, don’t you?”
Her whole body tensed, her feet almost stamping the spinning belt of the treadmill.
Her voice broke a little. “I don’t… know.”
Keihl moved to the front of the machine, holding up the gleaming fingertip, wet with the proof of her shame. “Do you think this is sweat?”
Her eyes stared forward defiantly.
“Look at me, girl.”
She met his gaze, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears.
He held the finger to her lips. “You know what to do.”
The wet tongue flicked out, tasting, pausing, then taking his finger into her mouth, her bright eyes upon him the whole time.
“Now tell me, bad girl. Does that taste like sweat to you?”
Her blush flamed red, spreading up into her hair and down her neck, her eyes squeezing tight for a moment, her tongue working along him.
“I didn’t think so.” He pulled his finger from her lips. “Your cunt is dripping, girl.”
Her head drooped for a moment, then she took a deep, shuddering breath, lifted her chin, staring straight ahead once more.
Keihl moved to her side, taking in the bounce of her breasts, the way the long muscles of her thighs worked as she walked. His hand stroked the curve of her belly, and Kirsten sighed, her hand covering his. She looked down at him, her teeth worrying her lower lip. He pressed a kiss to her warm hip, giving her a wink. She smiled then, bringing the back of his hand to her lips, her soft kiss making his cock throb.
“My beautiful girl,” he murmured, stroking the curve of her hip with the loose falls of the flogger. She tensed, her gaze snapping forward once more. “You fear this, don’t you?”
“Yes, Sir.” She grasped the bar ahead of her with both hands as if to steady herself for what might come next. “You’ve never… used something like that. On me.”
“No time like the present, right?”
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