Pink Buttercream Frosting

by Lissa Matthews

  A self-satisfied look lit her eyes and a smile threatened to break through. She would be a tough one to crack, open one minute, confusing the next, but the delight she brought to him surpassed anything he’d imagined finding after so long.

  He dipped four of his fingers into the bowl of frosting and grinned when her eyes widened. With a small dollop of frosting deposited on her clit and on each nipple, the fourth finger smeared the decadence in her belly button, she looked like a sweet treat. And he was starving.

  “Now, do not move or I will have to tie you down.” Lowering his head, he sucked her clit between his lips and she writhed. Hiding his smile, he looked up without lifting his mouth. When she stilled, he again sucked at her clit, and again she writhed under him.

  His mouth lifted. “I warned you.”

  “I know, but I can’t help it. It feels so…”

  “I know. However, I told you what would happen if you moved. You have got to do what I tell you. And I told you to stay still.”

  “Yes, Aidn.”

  “Sir.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Aidn stood and walked away. He had rope in his office, cuffs, scarves, straps, all kinds of things that could be used to tie someone down. As he rummaged around, he noticed that his mood was lighter, and though he was horny again, it wasn’t the kind of horny that drove a person nuts if they didn’t get relief. He had been through that over the past few weeks. No, this horny was hot and insistent, bubbling just below the surface, but patient, knowing it would be sated, knowing the outlet it had been craving was there within reach, and not leaving.

  Pulling a pale pink scarf from the drawer along with four strips of black leather, he went back to her with a smile on his face “Now, let’s get you tied down.”

  He walked around the table, tying first one wrist to a table leg, then tying the other. As he worked, he talked to her, as openly as possible for a man that hadn’t shared his feelings with a woman in so long. “You are more than just a fuck to me, Bailey. You are, I believe, the submissive I’m meant to own. I don’t believe in fate and meant to, but I do believe in you. That’s good enough for me.” He moved onto her legs, wrapping the bindings around her ankles and knotting them to the remaining table legs. Standing at the end of the table, her pussy open and glistening, beckoning him to touch her, he picked up the bowl of frosting. “I’m afraid you’re going to have to make more later. I’m not going to be able to get enough of it, and I’m not going to be able to get enough of you.”

  About the Author

  To learn more about Lissa Matthews, please visit www.lissamatthews.com. Send an e-mail to Lissa Matthews at lissa@lissamatthews.com.

  Hell hath no fury like a scorned woman—with toys.

  On His Knees

  © 2009 Beth Williamson

  Private Lives, Book 1

  Renny Johnson has no idea why her ex-husband broke into her house in the middle of the night. She plans to find out—right after he wakes up from a close encounter with his own baseball bat. As long as she’s got him tied up, she might as well make him answer every unanswered question about their divorce.

  Nicholas sneaked into the house, hoping to retrieve his precious autographed bat without having to face Renny’s wrath. He didn’t expect her to knock him out with it. Then again, who can blame her? He left her to take a walk on the wild side, to search for that missing something he thought he couldn’t find in his marriage.

  Now that he’s completely at her mercy, he’s about to find out how merciless—and how incredibly sexy—his ex can be. The night becomes a wild roller coaster ride of amazing sex, dominance and submission, and maybe the beginning of a brand new chapter in their lives.

  Unless the flames burn out of control…

  Warning: This title contains a dominant woman, a sexy submissive man, and lots of nekkid, smokin’ hot sex.

  Enjoy the following excerpt for On His Knees:

  A surge of excitement danced across Nicholas’s skin. Renny was different…stronger, firmer, more in control. The very things he hadn’t even recognized he needed until he visited Nirvana. Now he knew he was a sub by nature. A sub in need of a Dom, and he hoped like hell Renny was open to the idea. He wouldn’t give her too much detail up front, just enough to have a taste of what could be between them.

  She picked up the scissors and, to his utter surprise, started cutting his clothes off. Now that was something he’d never expected. The cold steel of the scissors slowly slid up his overheated skin, and he shuddered with longing. Who knew his mousy ex-wife would end up being the woman he wanted so badly his teeth ached? His heart had known all along, had refused to give up on her. Perhaps it wasn’t too late.

  “What are you doing?”

  Renny glanced at him. “Making you naked.”

  “Why don’t you just take my clothes off instead of cutting them off?” His breath caught on the last word when the scissors flicked one nipple.

  She stopped immediately. “Did I hurt you?”

  “No.” He was in danger of blowing another load in his pants though.

  She pulled the remnants of his shirt off, then leaned down and bit his hardened nipples. “Mmm, much better.”

  Nicholas let out a shaky breath, hoping like hell this wasn’t just punishment. He wanted so much more, craved more, needed more.

  Shifting down his body, Renny let her breasts press into his thigh. He couldn’t stop the moan from escaping. He swore he heard her chuckle.

  The scissors started again on his pants and he didn’t stop her. Didn’t say a damn word or even move. Instead he lay there, getting harder by the minute.

  Snip, snip, snip.

  Working her way up his pant leg, Renny nibbled and scraped her teeth on the exposed skin. It was the weirdest yet most sensual experience of his life. By the time she’d shredded his pants, he shook with need. Her eyebrows shot up when she discovered he’d gone commando.

  “No panties, Nicky?” she mocked him.

  A slow flush crept up his cheeks. “It’s more comfortable.”

  She stared at his erection and licked her lips. “I like it.” As she settled her wet cunt against his cock, he hissed along with her. After a moment of the skin-against-skin sizzle, she placed her hands against his chest and stared into his eyes. “Tell me about the club. Don’t make me tie you up again.”

  One eyebrow rose. “Maybe later.”

  A flash of surprise preceded a vixenish grin. “Is that something you learned at Nirvana?”

  “Yes.”

  She leaned closer and her newly cropped hair brushed his jaw. “What else did you learn?”

  “May I touch you?”

  She blinked then nodded. “You may.”

  He reached up to cup her ample breasts, the nipples diamond-hard against his hands. His mouth longed to pleasure them, but one step at a time. One small step at a time, even if it killed him.

  “That feels good,” she breathed. “Pinch them.”

  His heart skipped a beat at the command. God, to hear the love of his life speaking in that tone of voice was a dream come true. Nicholas parted the folds of the bathrobe and placed his hands on her heated skin. He couldn’t stop the shiver that traveled straight down his arms to his balls. Rolling the nipples between his fingers, he gently thrust his hips upward, pressing hardness into softness, cock to pussy.

  She caught his rhythm and pushed down against him. When he flicked one nipple with his nails, she slapped his hand.

  “No. Naughty boy.” She waggled her finger at him.

  He was surprised, yet pleased she reacted as she did. Renny certainly showed signs of being a natural dominant.

  “May I lick them?”

  “No, you may not.”

  A test. Definitely a test. He continued pinching and teasing her, never stopping or changing his position. Renny was catching on. Thank God.

  “I’m not sure I quite understand what’s happening, but it damn sure feels good,” she said huskily.

  Nic
holas smiled. “You’re taking control. Do you like it?”

  She pushed her breasts against his hands and looked down into his eyes. “The question is, do you?”

  A million questions flew through his mind, followed by one answer.

  “Yes.”

  Renny felt like she was in a different dimension, one where she and Nicholas had never separated, never gone to bed without kissing each other good night, and never ended their relationship with a whimper.

  Surges of pure Grade-A arousal raced through her, making every hair on her body stand at attention. Her heart thumped hard and fast, making her a bit lightheaded. This wasn’t the languid arousal that affected her when she used her new sex toys. It was more like turning music on really loud and shocking body and brain into action at once.

  Her arousal grew strong and heavy, unlike anything she’d ever experienced. It had to do with the way Nicholas was giving her control, letting her tell him what to do. She felt powerful, sexy and incredibly feminine. At the same time, she felt out of control because she didn’t know what to do. She followed her instincts and his gentle prodding.

  As it was, she was on the verge of an orgasm from simply having him touch her breasts.

  “What’s next…Mistress?”

  The name skipped across her skin like a caress. Mistress.

  “Why did you call me that?” She sat back, forcing herself to pull her breasts from his amazing hands.

  He stared hard at her ripe nipples before meeting her gaze. “I wanted to. Do you think you can be a Mistress?”

  “What does it mean to be a Mistress?” She sure liked the sound of power. It turned her on like she couldn’t believe. Curiosity, arousal and downright naughtiness swirled around inside her.

  His hands twitched on her legs, as if he couldn’t sit still, as if he wanted to put them back on her breasts but didn’t want to without permission.

  “It means you tell me what to do, what to feel, how to pleasure you. And I obey.”

  Obey.

  “You do what I tell you to do?”

  “Yes.”

  “You do nothing without me telling you to do it?”

  “Yes.”

  “I am Mistress.”

  “I am yours.”

  A shiver worked its way down her body to land squarely in her pussy, which throbbed and clenched with excitement. She’d never known the very thought of having a man be at her command would engender the most intense feelings of longing she’d ever had.

  “Good. Then you may touch my breasts again and this time, use your mouth.”

  The eagerness in his eyes almost undid her. He pulled the robe off her shoulders, a soft caress of silk on her overheated body. Fingertips lightly traced a path down her arms to circle her nipples. She held her breath until she grew lightheaded. When his fingers finally reached the sensitive tips, she moaned.

  “Does that feel good, Mistress?”

  “Mmmmm, yes.” She leaned forward, eager for the next step.

  He didn’t disappoint her. The first touch of his hot tongue felt like fire on her skin. Then there was a storm of wicked laving, followed by sucking that echoed through her body. Sweet, wet pleasure. She wanted more though. Much more.

  His training didn’t cover how to win back a woman’s trust…

  Rude Awakening

  © 2009 Veronica Chadwick

  Jaimee Turner spent most of her life trying to be an unassuming pillar of virtue and submissive wife to a man who demanded nothing of her—especially physically. A year after his unexpected death, she’s finally finding her own footing, only to find herself thrown completely off balance by Lucas, a man who awakens desires she never knew she had.

  FBI agent Lucas Grayson is relentless in his quest to bring down those who prey on the innocent. The Turner case is unlike anything he’s dealt with before, and so is the widow Turner. One thing’s for sure: Brent Turner was blind to think he could outsmart the Collective. And blind to the fact Jaimee was a gift he threw away.

  The Collective has dirty fingers in all sorts of bad pies, and the FBI suspects Brent’s “accident” was anything but. Jaimee knows more than she thinks she does. Lucas would sell his soul to extract that information and keep her safe. But he can’t save her from the devastating betrayal she’ll have to face.

  Warning: Some mild violence, a very sarcastic best friend, sneaky massages, inappropriate use of caramel and some occasional back door lovin’.

  Enjoy the following excerpt for Rude Awakening:

  Thursdays were just a tease. Fridays were too long and tiring, this one especially. Since that sickening scene with her mom she hadn’t heard from Lucas. Jaimee sighed as she stirred the melting caramel. Making caramel apples was supposed to distract her from worrying about it. She sighed again and squeezed her eyes shut, denying the thought that crawled through her mind that her mom was right. Even though she was half tempted to set the whole mess aside and take her horny self down the street and beg him to do his thing. Damn. She really was out of control.

  Thankfully no work was looming over her this weekend and she was so looking forward to it. Hanging with Maxine would be good for her. She blew her hair out of her face and turned on the radio mounted above the cabinet before moving on to the apples. The DJ enthusiastically announced the next song was “Kiss You All Over” by Exile.

  Jaimee snickered and shook her head. “How apropos,” she murmured to herself as she pushed the wooden sticks into the top of the apples. “So show me, show me everything you do…” she sang along, swaying with the music as she lifted the double boiler to move it to the island to work on dipping the apples. “’Cause baby no one does it quite like you… Love you…need you…oh baby…I wanna kiss you all over…”

  “Here I am, knock yourself out.”

  Startled, Jaimee jumped, nearly upending the double boiler filled with hot caramel and burning her thumb in the process.

  “Ow crap! Damn it! You’re a menace, do you know that?” she snapped and sucked on her thumb. A strange mixture of annoyance and delight washed over her at same time. Good Lord the man had her all messed up.

  Lucas leaned casually against the doorframe, his hair tied back, arms crossed over his broad chest, watching her. The white shirt he wore open at the throat, sleeves rolled up, looked incredible against his dark skin and his black pants fit snug over his hips and thighs. All he needed was a sword at his hip to complete the look…and maybe an eye patch.

  How long had he been there? She involuntarily took a step back as her gaze clashed with his. His eyes were dark, his mouth set and the muscle in his jaw twitched as his gaze traveled from her bare feet to her baggy, lime terry cloth shorts and lingered at her chest.

  Damn, she wasn’t wearing a bra, which meant her uninhibited breasts were swaying freely underneath her oversized yellow T-shirt with every breath, every move she made. On top of that, thanks to Mr. Sexy and her previous train of thought, her nipples were standing at full and eager attention. Too irritated to be embarrassed at how ridiculous she looked, she went to the sink to cool her burnt thumb under cold water.

  “I could have been your worst nightmare,” he said lazily. There was power in that voice. Dark, wicked power that captured her attention and sent heated shivers dancing over her already sensitive body.

  Gathering her resolve, she gave him a snotty look. “Who says you aren’t?”

  Who the hell did he think he was anyway? Just barging in without knocking or alerting her of his presence. Did he think because she’d slept with him he had a right to come and go as he pleased? Well, dammit, he had another think coming.

  That realization had heat crawling up her throat to burn her cheeks. Oh great, now she was red faced. He had a bad habit of just doing whatever he pleased, whenever. The man had no manners whatsoever. He tilted his head, stepping toward her. It was disconcerting and kind of rude. Okay, fine, it was seriously sexy, but it made her damned uncomfortable. It seemed as though he was analyzing her, seeing deep inside
, much more than she wanted him to see.

  “Would you rather it have been Ronald Marshall who just walked through your unlocked door?” He wasn’t smiling; as a matter of fact he looked slightly pissed off. He walked purposefully toward her, ignoring the fact that, with every step, she retreated.

  “No.” She wrinkled her nose.

  “Or worse?” He reached out to shut off the faucet with a quick twist of his wrist.

  Did he just growl? She gasped as she found herself backed up against the counter. That sounded like a growl, the vibrations rumbled through her, awakening every cell of her body.

  “Let me see.”

  “It’s fine.” She ignored the hand he held out to her.

  If he touched her she’d go up in flames. Spontaneously combust from the restrained lust she kept trying to tamp down since he imposed himself into her sedate, boring life. With an exasperated sigh his fingers wrapped around her wrist, tugged her closer and lifted her hand to examine her burn. The burn he caused. Damn him. She concentrated on keeping her breathing even as his thumb brushed over her pulse point. His gaze held hers, his eyes smoldering with temper and maybe something more.

  “Do you always have to be so damn bullheaded?” his voice rumbled, setting off little tremors in her tummy as he lowered his gaze to study the burn.

  “Do you always have to be so…so…” She forgot what she was saying as he blew on her damp thumb. Holy crap.

  He lifted his eyes from the small red welt rising on her thumb to watch her, his brow lifting slowly. “Right?”

  “No.” She wrinkled her nose at him again and tugged her hand, trying to free herself. “I was thinking overbearing, dogmatic, aggressive, arrogant…bossy.”

  He smelled so good she wanted to whimper. She wanted to wrap her arms around him, press her body against him, rest her head on his solid chest and absorb the feel of him, his scent, his security.