TOUCH OF A DOM by Madeleine Oh

TOUCH OF A DOM by Madeleine Oh

Dominant Lovers Series Book Two

With her mother recently dead, Adele Royer is determined to find the father who abandoned them when she was a toddler. The only clues she has are two addresses in Nice that she finds among her mother’s papers. Determined to start her search in the South of France, she applies for a job as cook in Eze and becomes part of Luc Prioux’s staff at Les Santons.

She loves the job and is more than ready to begin her search but Branko Odic, Luc’s secretary, proves to be a delicious distraction. The passion they share is undeniable, their chemistry tangible. He becomes her dream Dominant in bed and a true friend as he aids her in her quest.

Together they find her father in nearby Cannes. But Adele is in for the shock of a lifetime.

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Spectacle was the only word for the sight below. By the light of dozens of candles, a woman was spread-eagled on some sort of table by the pergola and a near-naked man stood at her head, cracking the whip on the paving stones. He was skilled, even in the poor light that was clear enough. With confident movements he whirled the whip from side to side, hitting the ground but never touching the woman. Her quiet moans rose up to where Adele watched and she shut her eyes a moment, imagining herself in the woman’s place and feeling the rush as the evil whip cut the night air.

Adele grasped the window sill to steady herself as her body responded to the sights and sounds below. She had missed this. How many months had it been since she’d had a session with a skilled Dominant? And this man was skilled. Was it Branko? Had to be. The security on the estate was far too tight for random couples to wander in and frolic on the terrace at will. Besides, this scene was carefully choreographed. She’d taken part in far too many not to notice that right away.

Helen –it had to be her–moaned and Adele moaned with her. This was too much, too wonderful but what the hell were they really doing? Had to be put on for her titillation. This employee benefit hadn’t been mentioned during the interview.

The tempo changed, the bullwhip hit the ground with a most stimulating crack and the man went over to the side and took up a flogger. It was unmistakable, even from here, and Adele cast a longing thought to her own flogger, now in her underwear drawer. She longed to feel its kiss on her skin. As Adele watched, Helen’s head and shoulders moved a little but mostly she sighed, reveling in the sweet caress as Branko stroked the full width of the spread tresses up and down her body before trailing them loosely down the inside of one leg and up the other.

Seemed he liked the effect, or perhaps her response, as he repeated the movement several times until Adele was half-ready to call out to him to do more, to ply the flogger harder and, as if sensing her wish, he did just that.

With a practiced and very skilled movement of the wrist, he tapped the end of the tresses across Helen’s thighs and shoulders and then flicked the flogger across her breasts. Oh! Switching techniques like that teased and aroused. Adele was wild and ready and whatever happened next and she was merely a spectator.

In the night she heard him say, “Are you ready, my dear?”

She darn well was. More than ready, overly ready, dying from readiness. This should be her reward. It was going to be.

Without pausing for slippers or robe, Adele dashed across the room, through the apartment and down the outside stairs. She ran across the drive, barely noticing the gravel on her bare feet, and called out, “No!”



Branko turned and watched as Adele ran toward them. This had not been part of his plan. A quick glance at Helen, still prone on the bench, showed she was even more stunned. Understandable, given her state of arousal.

“No?” he asked, sounding feeble to his own ears. “Were you invited?” Bit lame that but hell, he was ad libbing here.

“I invited myself. Wasn’t I intended to?”

Not exactly but now she was here he looked at her intently, hair all over the place, nothing on but a flimsy nightgown that did nothing to hide her full breasts and very tight nipples and the scent of her arousal filled the air. Her appearance was unexpected and downright unintended but most certainly not unwelcome.

“I’m glad you did, but tell me,” he hardened his voice, “why are you here, Adele?”

She shivered under his scrutiny but he suspected it wasn’t from cold, Rather from something far more enticing. For both of them.

She took a deep breath, tilted up her chin and met hid eyes. No modest and submissive lowering of eyes for her. He rather liked her attitude. “I’m in need and horny and you and your partner pretty much drove me to the edge.”

“Pretty much?” He raised his eyebrows slowly and met her eyes steadily. “Does that mean you are still on the edge?”

“Yes, and it’s driving me crazy.”

“And you expect me to take care of that?”

“Why not? You seem expert at these things.”

She was in need and wanted him. Wanted him to oblige her. He could be very obliging when necessary. He stepped close to her and fingered the neck of her nightgown. Nice, flimsy cotton, perfect to his mind. It covered but really didn’t conceal much. But even so…

“If you want me, you’d better be naked.” He put in just a hint of menace. Her breath caught but the nightgown was off and over her head before she exhaled.

Now he gasped. He’d seen many naked women, dozens even, but Adele took his breath away. Her breasts were large but gloriously firm and rounded, her nipples dark and every bit as hard as the little bumps under her nightgown had suggested but it was the incredible curve of her belly and generous roundness of her hips that drew his eyes down to the dark triangle of her pussy. His cock responded with passion, dire need and sheer and fantastic horniness.

He wanted her, right here and now but first… He raised the flogger that was still in his hand and asked, “Would you like me to discipline you?” She nodded. “I thought you might but— Damn!” He threw the flogger to the ground. “That will have to wait for next time.” He certainly couldn’t. Branko pulled her close, pressing his erection into the warmth of her lovely belly and he took her mouth with his.

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SATURDAY NIGHT SPECIAL by Wendi Zwaduk

SATURDAY NIGHT SPECIAL by Wendi Zwaduk

She makes his motor run.

 

Blaine Haeferle drives fast and lives on the edge. He’s not afraid to risk it all for the win—unless his heart is in the mix. He loved once, but things ended in disaster. Can he accept the woman who holds his heart, despite all their jagged past?

 

Mallory Sweet never intended to leave Blaine without a word. But one night changed everything for her. Instead of facing her past, she ran.

 

Is coming to terms with her past the key to winning the love of her life back?

 
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~Excerpt~

His breath caught when he spotted the black and scarlet 33w tattoo on her sculpted ankle. His number. He didn’t need to see the rest of the woman to know who sat on the truck seat. His hands itched to hold her. Blaine surged to the truck cab. “Mallory?”

 

The late day sunlight light spread across the interior of the truck, making her eyes shine and her skin the perfect shade of peaches and cream – like unblemished porcelain. She took his breath away with nothing more than a smile.

 

Mallory patted the seat. “I needed a soft place to sit. These heels are killing me.”

 

His gaze slid down her sculpted calves to her shoes. His shivered. His cock pressed against his fire suit. Damn. He gave in to a quick fantasy and envisioned Mal in nothing but those high heels.

“They’re killing me too.”

 

“What?”

 

Realizing he verbalized his thoughts, his attention snapped back to her face with a quick meander over the way her black miniskirt hugged her curves and blood red halter cupped her breasts. He folded his hands over his crotch to hide the growing erection. “I mean…What are you doing here?

Aren’t you supposed to be shooting a cover for something?” On the inside, he groaned. Way to sound intelligent.

 

“I probably could be shooting a cover for something, as you put it. But I’m not.” She toyed with the thick silver ring on her middle finger. “Did you hear me sing?”

 

“I did.” He had to pay attention to something besides her body and it’s effect on his. He should, but he couldn’t, not when she looked so good. He leaned on the tool chest and crossed his

ankles—anything to hide the tent in his pants. “You sounded good.” Unlike his answer, which sounded moronic and bland. He tapped his toes on the packed dirt beneath his feet and hooked his thumbs on the waistband of his fire suit.

 

Mallory stilled his hand. “I saw you race. You did well.”

 

Her touch sparked the feelings he’d long since buried. So much for getting over her. “I had motivation.” Her picture in his pocket and the memories of her on his heart.

 

Her cheeks paled and her eyes widened. “Motivation?” Her brows knotted. “I see.” She straightened her blouse. “Well, good luck tonight.”

 

Blaine took a step back. Something happened between them, but fuck if he understood what. “Don’t tell me you came here for small talk. You hate making conversation for the sake of wasting time. What’s going on?” He touched her cheek. “You aren’t even smiling. What’s wrong?”

 

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SWEETEST SALVATION by Kacey Hammell

SWEETEST SALVATION by Kacey Hammell

After the deaths of her husband and child, tragedies that she blames herself for, Andrea “Andy” Sheaver has shut herself off from the world. The only place she finds any relief from her shattered heart is Club Splendor, where she and her husband often frequented together. There, Andy submits to pleasure and pain in situations so her grief is forgotten for a little while.

But Hunter Sullivan won’t stand idly by and watch Andy self-destruct. A friend of her husband, and the owner of Club Splendor, Hunter has kept his love for Andy hidden for years. He refuses to think of her at the club, cold and detached as she’s become, looking for an easy fix to take away the pain in her heart. Hunter wants her to be vibrant in life again and sets out to prove he is exactly who she needs.  

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Excerpt © Kacey Hammell, 2013

Hunter sighed, which caught Andy’s attention. Her eyes met his briefly before lowering to her hands, which were clenched tight in her lap.
 

“Look, Andy,” he began.
 

“What do you want, Hunter?” Her forest-green-eyed gaze met his. Anger swirled in their depths.

“I’m tired of this. Dammit.” He snarled, rising, and crossed to the fireplace. He ran his fingers through his hair and leaned one arm on the mantel. He looked over at her, stomach churning with indigestion and pain. He’d loved Patrick and Peter too. Could she not understand that she wasn’t the only one suffering?

“Tired of what? I never asked you here.”

“This!” Hunter spread his arms wide. “You. I’m so tired of seeing you locked away in this house, never leaving and pictures gone.”

“Go to hell,” Andy spat and leapt to her feet. She moved behind the loveseat, obvious fury making her hands shake as she laid them on the back of it. “You don’t have any say in how I live. I never asked for your opinion. If you don’t like it, get the hell out of my house. And my life!”

Hunter breathed deep, nostrils flaring. He could no more walk away from her than he could from the Sheavers. She was as much a part of his life, and his heart, as they were.

But his love for her went far beyond sisterly.

He pushed that thought away, buried it deep within himself as he’d done for years. She was Patrick’s girl, his wife. He always honored that.

“Dammit, I don’t want to argue with you, Andy. But you really need to move on. Live life again and leave this house.”

“I leave the house. You don’t know what I do every day.”

“Oh yes, you go out. Like the other night? Why did you go to the club? I thought we agreed you were no longer a member,” Hunter demanded, curious about her answer.

“No. You decided I was no longer a member. Not me. I never said I wanted that. Who are you to make decisions for me?” Andy retorted, cheeks flushed, hands on her hips.

Hunter had to admit he was finally seeing a glimpse of the fiery, strong woman she’d been until this last year. He liked her eyes ablaze, jaw clenched and fury radiating off her body. He just needed to provoke her enough and challenge her to move beyond these walls and back to the things she loved to do.

“I don’t want to make decisions for you.” He took a calming breath. “Listen, the club is not the place for you any longer. Without Patrick… There’s no need for you to be there anymore.”

“Why do you think that?”

“He was the one who wanted to show it to you. He never really thought you’d come to enjoy it as much as you did. Neither of you interacted with others. What can you find there now without him?”

Andy smiled, cold and detached. He hated that smirk.

“Oh, come now. You know what happens in your club. Surely, I don’t have to spell it out for you.”

Goddamn her.

Yes, he knew what she’d done inside the room she’d once used with Patrick. Though he normally didn’t interfere in his members’ activities unless there was a problem, he did ask Paige and Nolan if Andy had simply watched. He’d been shocked, then livid, to learn a few details of what happened between the three of them.

Andy had always been a devoted wife to Patrick, faithful to the core. To know she’d been an active participant at the club for the first time had suddenly left him empty and alone.

But he couldn’t allow his feelings on the matter to distract him from pushing her back into life.

He shrugged. “No. You don’t have to spell it out for me. But is that what you truly want and need in your life?  Sex with strangers? Do you need to find comfort in people who don’t care about you?”

Andy glared at him. “That is none of your business.” Her voice rose as she continued. “What I do in my life is for me to decide. I never asked to have you in my life. Don’t expect me to want you there now.”

His heart clenched. Her words were like a punch to the gut.

Yes, he’d sort of come as a package deal when she’d married Patrick. But the Sheavers were the only family he had. And when Peter was born, oh, he’d played the dutiful uncle to the little boy. Though she’d never voiced her frustration at his being in attendance at nearly all family gatherings or taking up some of Patrick’s time once a week for a guys’ night out, he’d understood the stone-faced woman who left the words unsaid.

“I always promised Patrick I’d look after you if he couldn’t.”

“Fuck off, Hunter. Don’t give me that.” Her hands fisted at her sides. “Look, please just go. I don’t need you here. I have things to do.”

He wouldn’t be so easily dismissed.

“Things to do? Like what, plan your next adventure at the club? I don’t think so. Why? Explain to me why you felt the need to go there?”

Arms wide, she yelled, “I wanted to fuck somebody. Is that what you want to hear? That I wanted to have a cock inside me for the first time in almost two years? I wanted to have a man inside, pounding me—brutal and painful. What better place to do that than at the club where I know I’m safe?”

Hunter’s heartbeat accelerated. To know she needed someone that close to her was agonizing. It was a barren and desperate act of someone who had nothing to live for. Or didn’t think she was worth much.

“Why pain? You couldn’t have found satisfaction in that. No pleasure, Andy? You, of all people, found pleasure in that kind of sex? I don’t believe for a moment that you’re now into rough sex,” Hunter said, gruff. His mouth was dry, and confusion made his head hurt. Would he never understand this woman?

Andy crossed her arms over her chest. She looked out the window behind him. Her gaze was unfocused, filled with pain.

“Yes, pain. It’s what I deserve, isn’t it?” Her gaze captured his. Hunter felt his heart crack at her desolate look.

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SPRING BREAK by Kathy Kulig

SPRING BREAK - A Exotika Story by Kathy Kulig

Spring break beyond your wildest fantasies? If Justin Watkins can stop watching over his college students like Big Brother, he might convince the prim-and-proper Mariko Maguire to be his sex partner at the invitation-only adult club called TropiX.

Mariko is in Fort Lauderdale on business, trying to secure new clients for her PR firm. Abandoning prior commitments for one wickedly lustful evening - a one-night stand of kinky sex - was not on her agenda.

Carter Bosworth is looking for an evening of sex games during his layover in the tropical playground. He's a regular at TropiX and always open for a new thrill. His plans are sidetracked, but it may be to his benefit after all when he meets the beautiful Mariko.

The potent heat developing between Justin and Mariko tempts her into shedding her inhibitions, and an exploration in eroticism beyond her imagination develops at the fetish club.

 

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By reading any further, you are stating that you are at least 18 years of age. If you are under the age of 18, it is necessary to exit this site. <><> <><> <><> An Excerpt From: SPRING BREAK Copyright © KATHY KULIG, 2012 All Rights Reserved, Ellora's Cave Publishing, Inc. Mariko Maguire sat at the tiny patio table along Fort Lauderdale Strip fanning herself with an oversized postcard she’d found on the table. She managed to grab the seat the moment the couple clad in bikini and surfer shorts left. Calypso music blared from the Tiki bar as crowds of young people sipped frozen drinks and beer, munching on onion rings, raw mussels and clams. Scanning the group of spring breakers where everyone was dressed in bathing suits or T-shirts and shorts, Mariko noticed they were all at least twelve years younger than she. A twinge of regret hit her as she listened to the laughter and observed the young men and women flirting and having a good time. She’d missed her spring break in college. If she had gone with her friends that year instead of working would her life have been any different? She was the only fool wearing a business suit and heels. What had her boss been thinking to plan a conference during spring break? Thank God, she chose to do without the pantyhose this morning. She only hoped the physicians in her seminar—all men except for one woman—didn’t think her unprofessional for not wearing stockings. Screw it, this was South Florida. One more lecture and she would join the young kids in a bathing suit and hit the pool, maybe the ocean. Wow, were they really college aged? They looked so young. Or was she getting old? Thirty-four wasn’t old, she tried convincing herself. She envied the carefree looks on their faces and wondered how many were involved in a summer romance, experiencing the passionate exhilaration of a brief affair, knowing it would be over when classes started. Even promises of “we’ll keep in touch” or “we’ll find a way to see each other” never happened, or so she’d heard. What would she give to have had that heated spontaneity just once? After a divorce was there any spontaneity in dating anymore? Maybe she expected too much. A young woman in a skimpy bikini leaned against a handsome guy at the bar. His hands roamed over her hips and slid dangerously close to skimming her breasts. His thigh was planted between her slim legs and she dry humped him with the slightest movement. Mariko grew hotter in the ninety-degree heat and her pussy gave a twitch, responding to the sensual display. God, she was horny. The thought of having a man running his hands over her while she was half naked—better yet, completely naked—was turning her on. She would enjoy a naked dip in the pool with cool water caressing her skin, while a man massaged her breasts, touched her pussy and stimulated her clit. Touch me here, lower, harder, slip a finger inside me, pinch my nipples, yes, like that… He’d obey each command, pleasuring her in all ways. Mariko released a long exhale, her body tingling from her thoughts. Only in my dreams. Mariko shifted in her seat and averted her eyes from the couple’s public display. She noticed a few guys around the bar had also begun watching them. Maybe they liked being watched. The throbbing in her pussy increased and her nipples tightened. Damn, after the seminar she was stripping out of her suit, getting into her bathing suit and taking a long, exhausting swim in the ocean. She sighed. Where was the waiter with her virgin piña colada? She’d skipped the alcohol since she was giving the afternoon lecture. If the last lecture went anything like the morning one, maybe she should add the rum. These doctors were tough. She wouldn’t be surprised if she went home without one new client. Why did her company decide to plan a conference during spring break? Was she the only one not on spring break here? The bar was four rows deep and she doubted she’d ever see the bartender again, but if she got up, she’d lose the table. Forget about ordering food, she didn’t have time. A hint of a sea breeze drifted in off the ocean and she lifted her face to capture every bit of coolness. She opened her blouse by two buttons and pulled the silk material away from her breasts. Her plum lace bra showed a bit, but who cared with all this half-naked flesh walking around? No one was noticing the older thirty-something sitting at a table by herself. She fanned inside her blouse, but the small postcard did little to cool her off. Glancing at the card, she read TropiX Exclusive Lifestyle Impressions, by invitation only. Applications accepted at: There was a website address and no other contact information. The card was plain, shaded in gray, black and white with silhouetted palm trees, with a couple embracing between the trees. She flipped the card over but it was blank. She frowned. The bartender arrived with her drink. He, too, looked about fourteen. “Like to charge it to your room, ma’am?” Ma’am? God, do I look that old? “Sure, thanks.” She held up the card. “Do you know what this is?” The bartender gave her a half smirk and a dark look. “Private sex club.” “Strip club?” “No, sex club. People meet at the club to have sex. Pretty upscale place.” She tried not to sound shocked. “Ah, I’ve heard of them.” Sort of. “Ever go?” Heat rushed to her face and her pulse kicked up several beats. Images of a room filled with a dozen or so people engaged in one giant orgy. Hands of several men touching her intimately at the same time, what would that be like? What kinds of people go to places like that? Would she ever have sex with more than one man at the same time? Never. She felt slick and damp between her legs, and surprisingly aroused by the thought of participating in such an experience. Must be the heat. “No, I’ve heard people talk about it. Why, do you want to go?” the bartender asked. She shrugged. Probably not. Was she being old fashioned? She wanted to keep up with the times, but this was a bit extreme. “I don’t know. Might be interesting.” She signed the check, then sipped her drink. “Interesting? I could think of a few other words for TropiX.” The bartender seemed amused.

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