About the Author
Michèle de Lully lives in the desert, where erotic mirages of other times and places shimmer out of the hot summer nights. She commits as many of them as she can to paper, when not distracted by glorious sunsets, cool margaritas, and long nights of salsa dancing.
Please visit her at www.micheledelully.com.
Look for these titles by Michèle de Lully
Now Available:
La Bonne
Sandra Castilla is about to discover her true self…if she can survive that long.
Slave Heart
© 2007 Nage Archer
Sandra Castilla had never taken a chance in her life until she dreamt of her sister’s murder. Driven by forces she couldn’t begin to understand, Sandra finds herself thousands of miles from home, about to infiltrate a dark BDSM cult known as the Taleans.
Loved by one man and hopelessly attracted to another, Sandra is plunged into a hidden world where the first wrong move could be her last.
A powerful romantic suspense that will keep you on the edge of your seat to the very last page. Winner of the Enda Award for the Year’s Best Erotic Read, a gold star from Just Erotic Romance Reviews and a reviewer’s Choice Award from Road to Romance, join Sandra Castilla on an unforgettable journey of self discovery.
Enjoy the following excerpt for Slave Heart:
Two hours later, and a bottle of Chianti behind us, we sat in Jorge’s living room. His mood had improved somewhat, but I knew he was still concerned. I could feel it, and it touched me.
“You know the funny thing?” he asked.
“Tell me.”
“I’ve never used a violet wand in my life. I was sort of looking forward to it.” He started giggling. We were on our second bottle and hadn’t stopped to eat.
“You could have.”
He grew momentarily serious. “No, I couldn’t.” Then he broke out laughing and I joined him. “Do you know what I’m going to do when you leave?”
“What’s that?”
“I’m going to call a girl, I’m going to have her come over here, and I’m going to fuck her six ways to Sunday.”
He laughed again, but this time, I didn’t join him. I think I knew then he’d fallen in love with me. I was torn between anger and sympathy. He had no right. I’d told him what I was going to do. Then I realized I was probably drunk and had no right to be angry at anyone, particularly Jorge. I leaned forward so my lips were beside his ear.
“Who are you going to call?” Perhaps part of me was jealous, though I had no reason to be. I had no claim on him.
“I don’t know. I might have borrowed Tonya, but after tonight, I don’t think Em will be very generous.”
“Borrow Tonya? Have you had sex with her before?”
“No, but I could have on more than one occasion. Em has offered.”
“What does Tonya think?”
He looked surprised. “Tonya does what her Master tells her to. She’s a good girl.”
“Why Emilio though? I don’t understand.” And I didn’t. The guy wasn’t worth his weight in dung.
“It’s not something you choose, Sandy. When you meet the right master, you’ll know it immediately. You can try to talk yourself out of it, you can fool yourself, but once you meet the One, there’s no turning back.”
I had come across this concept on various web pages and found it fascinating. “Is there only One?”
Jorge picked up the bottle and took a swig, ignoring the half-full glass on the coffee table beside it. Of course, some would see it as half-empty. “Who knows? Once you’ve found your One, that’s it. If there’s another One, you’ve already stopped looking, so how can anyone know?”
“Did anyone ever tell you you’re a very clever man?”
“I think I heard that once. I don’t remember where.”
It was my turn to laugh. Almost without realizing it, I nipped his ear. He jerked his head away and turned to face me. I could see the anger in his eyes. “Don’t do that!”
“Why not?” I was no longer scared of him. At that moment, there wasn’t a man in the world I trusted more.
“Because I don’t want to sleep with you.”
I found myself growing angry. “And why is that?”
He didn’t answer, but his eyes grew distant, and I immediately felt sorry. Of course he didn’t want to sleep with me. He was already falling for me. Yet I was drunk and horny and this might well be the very last time I would be able to do what I wanted.
The thought surprised me. Did I truly want Jorge, or did I just not want another woman to have him? No, that didn’t make sense. Oh what the hell.
He’d moved away, and I lunged at him, planting my lips firmly on his. I thought he was going to fight, but he didn’t. His arms were around me, and he was crying and laughing at the same time. I might have been doing the same. We kissed for a long time before his lips finally parted, as if he were finally accepting the inevitable. I don’t know when it became inevitable, but I’d known it would all along. He had complete power over me. I was supposed to obey him. Why wouldn’t he make use of me?
Perhaps that was why I did what I did. His restraint was an insult to my femininity. At that realization, I kissed him more passionately than I’d ever kissed a man, devouring him as if he were a condemned woman’s last meal. In retrospect, it wasn’t far from the truth.
Any thoughts he had of resistance vanished, and he returned my passion, stroking my tongue with his in a way I’d never before experienced. We were two desperate people in a world of desperate people, taking what pleasure we could for the short time we had the opportunity. Before I knew what was happening, he was unbuttoning my blouse. He had a bit of trouble, until he jerked on the two sides, sending a shower of plastic buttons into the air. I was already in the process of unhooking my bra.
In short order, pants and underwear were shed. I was naked first, save for the rubber band around my neck. Jorge joined me a moment later. Our lips had barely separated during the entire process and our tongues continued dancing as if that were their sole destiny. My entire body flushed with excitement. For some reason, I thought of Scott, the last man I’d made love to, though it was a pale thing compared to this carnal coupling. It was the difference between civilized humans making love and savage animals mating. Now that I’d shed the veneer of civilization, I doubted I could ever again return to its embrace.
I screamed when he pushed me away, and screamed again when he dropped his head between my legs and parted my lips with his tongue. From that point on, the screaming never stopped. I clenched my legs around his head, which likely muffled what he heard, though he didn’t need to hear me, for the way I arched my back and writhed against him told the story in far greater detail.
His tongue was powerful, lusty, relentless, exploring my body as no man ever had, probing and snaking its way inside me, then sliding back out to engulf my clit. I can’t imagine how many times I came, but he drank everything I gave him and kept licking, sucking and nibbling until I couldn’t take it anymore. My hands clawed at his curly brown hair, attempting to pull his head closer. My throat was raw from screaming. I drew huge lungfuls of air and still couldn’t catch my breath. Finally, I squeezed my legs together as hard as I could, putting literal pressure on him to turn his tongue from its torturous invasion.
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