Thursday, 21 August 2014

Thursday Taster: Gentleman #8

Another taste from Blue Moon House. Check out all the tastes on the blog.

“We haven't met,” she said, circling him. “I'd been informed that you were in need of my services.”
Harrold's brow furrowed. What woman provided a service he needed? What service...?
A light shone behind his eyes just as she said, “Delores was quite insistent. More than is proper. I had to set her down for that.” Lynn, for that must be who this woman was, regarded her painted nails. “She enjoyed that, I think. Would you?” She glanced at Harrold from the corner of those oddly sparkling eyes.
“Would I what?” He was completely flustered. How had a whore gotten into this party?
Her palm slapped across his face. It was a sensation he was familiar with. Many ladies had spurned his advances when he was younger. However, this woman had a stronger arm than any of them. This pain rivaled that of the time his cousin had punched him in the jaw for dandling his lady.
“You will pay heed when I speak. Would you enjoy being reprimanded by me?”
The suggestion alone made him burn. She was the ideal woman, strong, in complete command, not only of him, but every man at the party. Her force of presence bested that of most of the men he had met. He would love to obey her commands, especially if, as he suspected, they were anything like Delores'.
Her arm moved fast, spinning around to come up between his legs. He gasped in surprised and then winced as she squeezed him in her hand. The pain made his eyes water.
“You will not hesitate to answer, either.”
“Y-yes, madam,” he said through clenched teeth.
“Better.” She eased her grip, fondling him, massaging one nut and then the other before running a finger up his length.
“Despite putting me at such inconvenience, I believe Delores is right.” She pulled her hand back with a sigh. “Before we go any further, however, I need you to agree to the following terms.” She pulled up the drawstring at her belt to access her small purse. Unfolding a square of paper, she revealed a simple contract.
The below signed agrees to keep the confidentiality of Blue Moon House and share with no one the activities therein.
“Isn't it obvious to everyone what happens in a whorehouse?”
Her heel came down on his instep and he dropped the contract, hopping on the uninjured foot. “We are not mere whores and do not expect regular payment. Sign, or we are finished here.” She took a step toward the door.
“Wait!”
Returning, she slipped two fingers between the buttons of his fly, holding his erection and stroking it through his pants with her thumb. “Do you trust me, Mister Long?”
His breath hitched and he leaned closer, his forehead touching hers. “Yes.”
She smiled and tilted her head to kiss him, her lips not quite connecting. “You won't be disappointed,” she promised, releasing him to bend down and retrieve the contract. She made her way to a writing desk. “Sign and date, please.”
“What is it you need to keep secret?”
“Come to 36 Baker tomorrow night and find out,” she whispered, breathing in his ear.
He wanted to go there now, wanted to take her on this desk. He grabbed her and spun, lifting her hips onto the desk edge and pinning them there with his own.
“You are not in charge,” she reminded him. “I'll permit this to reward your obedience. Now fuck me, Harrold, and don't come until I have.”

Remember to visit the blog!

Wednesday, 20 August 2014

Contest with @KaydenMcLeod #giveaway

Kayden McLeod has an awesome segment on her blog this month. It is the August of Other Worlds and she is giving away copies of books all month! So hop over there and check out all the great offerings (you might see one from me in there.

Kayden McLeod
Twitter
Facebook

Tuesday, 19 August 2014

Tantalizing Tuesday - Two Years Today

Flopping on the couch, he took his head in his hands. What was he going to do? It wasn’t that he’d forgotten their anniversary, they’d been living together for two years today, but his checking account was empty. Jude was expecting something shiny. He started pacing, rubbing his hands over his face.

The table in the kitchen was technically Jude’s, like most of the furniture in the house. The clock was a gift from Jude’s sister. The place settings came from his mother. The more Doug looked through the house, the worse he felt. Finally, he curled into a ball in the guest room.

“Doug?” Jude asked, coming in. He called a few more times, eventually opening the door. Doug’s stomach turned to lead. “What are you doing here?”

“I don’t have anything to give you.”

Jude tossed the pizza he held on the dresser. “Are you here?”

“Yes.”

“Do you love me?”

“Of course.”

“Then cheer up.” He pulled out two pieces, handing one to Doug. “To two years.”

Doug’s stomach hadn’t really righted itself, but he raised the piece anyway. “To two years.” After a quick bite he said, “I love you so much.”

“I love you too.”

Check out all the 200 words teases on the blog. Point of interest: my first publication released almost two years ago, September 1.

Thursday, 14 August 2014

Thursday Taster Gentleman #7

Well, let's see what else can happen at this party! Remember to check out all the other tastes arrayed on the blog.

“Harrold, this is Percival Jackson and his wife Priscilla.” He clasped Percival's hand and nodded to the elegant woman next to him. Her gown probably cost twice what Veronica's did, something she was sure to complain about later. Veronica introduced him to two more pairs, all emigrated from England with substantial inherited wealth. She might not meet his expectations sexually, but Veronica was exceptional at getting her foot in the most exclusive doors. It had proved financially beneficial in the past.
After standing by her side through several inane conversations, Harrold's attention began to waver. Gazing over the assembly, he paused to admire several bodices and more than one cinched waist. Having a wife gave him respect and position, but Veronica took no offense at his wandering eye. If anything, she encouraged it, eager for him to find another bed.
The woman who drew his attention most wore a fitted dress with short sleeves, her arms bare down to her fingertips. That was probably why she was surrounded by men, each taking his turn holding her hand and kissing those fingers. She looked his way, and he found himself unable to break the gaze. Minutes later, he glanced her way again and admired her throat as she tipped it back, laughing —no necklace. Obviously she wasn't the wife of any of the guests: they wore gloves and necklaces as well as ornaments in their hair. She was still smiling when she met his eyes again, holding his gaze like it belonged to her. She blinked and turned, speaking to the gentlemen surrounding her before leaving them and striding in his direction.
“Follow,” she said when she came near, walking right past him.
He didn't excuse himself to his wife or her friends. None of them seemed to take any notice. Veronica didn't break in conversation, covering his withdrawl. The bewitching woman looked over her shoulder and seemed unsurprised to see him there. Her eyes drew his attention, glittering shards of topaz or amber. They seemed to glow unnaturally in the lamplight. She led him down a corridor and opened a door next to a pair of chatting women. Both watched them, but neither said a thing.
“You are a difficult man to get a hold of, Harrold. I don't think I like that,” she said as she strode to a trimmed lamp and opened it, casting the room in a gentle glow.
“Pardon, madam, but I'm sure I'd remember if I made your acquaintance.”
Full red lips pulled up on one corner in a smirk. “You had better believe you would.” Her lusty tone told him much. “We haven't met,” she said, circling him. “I'd been informed that you were in need of my services.”
Harrold's brow furrowed. What woman provided a service he needed? What service...?
A light shone behind his eyes just as she said, “Delores was quite insistent. More than is proper. I had to set her down for that.” Lynn, for that must be who this woman was, regarded her painted nails. “She enjoyed that, I think. Would you?” She glanced at Harrold from the corner of those oddly sparkling eyes.
“Would I what?” He was completely flustered. How had a whore gotten into this party?
Her palm slapped across his face. It was a sensation he was familiar with. Many ladies had spurned his advances when he was younger. However, this woman had a stronger arm than any of them. This pain rivaled that of the time his cousin had punched him in the jaw for dandling his lady.
“You will pay heed when I speak. Would you enjoy being reprimanded by me?”

Remember, more on the blog!

Tuesday, 12 August 2014

Tantalizing Tuesday - the stone that broke the camel's back

Tantalizing Teaser for you. Well, maybe not that tantalizing. Make sure you check the blog for the spicy samples!
One more pebble left her hand.
“Stop that!” one of the boys shouted. Lynn continued to turn the rope, feigning complete innocence. The younger girls jumped as though there had been no interruption. A couple of them started giggling. That only made the boys angrier.
Lynn watched the girls jumping while the boys continued to play whatever ball game they had invented. Peeking over her shoulder, Lynn chucked another stone.
This time all the girls saw her and giggled madly, several falling out of the spinning rope. She gave them all reproachful looks, even letting out one, “shh.”
“Uh-oh,” one of the older girls said, looking in the direction of the boys.
Spencer was in Lynn’s face, gripping the neck of his shirt and roaring. Lynn wondered if her hair were blown back by the blast.
“That’s it!” he declared. “Water fight.”
Lynn was picked up and tossed over his shoulder. She tried to kick free but had no luck. The girls ran in all directions, squealing, and the boys seized their armaments from the side of the school.

“You,” Spencer said, dropping her with her back to the wall and hefting a bucket, “are hosting the wet t-shirt contest.”

Thursday, 7 August 2014

Thursday Taster - Gentleman #6

I promise, one day I will post from another piece, but well, this one is going so well! Check out all the tasters by hopping to the blog.


“Missus Pearson, I was so sorry to hear about your husband. He was a pillar of the community.”
The widow stood, as did most of the guests. There weren't enough chairs and settees for half the attendees. Harrold bowed over the black lace glove and kissed the hand within. Before rising, he looked up through his long, dark lashes at the older woman, holding her gaze.
She wasn't old, much younger than his mother. Like Delores, her age seemed to distinguish her. As he rose, she stepped closer, hand sliding up his arm. “Your condolences are appreciated. We have been lonely in John's absence.” She stood near enough that Harrold could look directly down her pale cleavage, held in place by her black gown and corset.
Harrold's fingers found her waist, holding her lightly, preventing her from stepping back. “Being lonely can be difficult.”
“Indeed. Where is your beautiful wife this evening?”
Harrold smiled at the ploy. “Just there.” He indicated a cluster of women with a nod. “Mingling with the ladies of substance.”
“I find they have little substance, myself.” The widow's hand dropped slowly, brushing the front of Harrold's trousers and his thigh. He inhaled sharply. “I understand that you keep accounts. John left quite a mess for bookkeeping. I could use someone to help me sort it out.” Her hand moved again, making each caress seem happenstance, but her eyes left no doubt to Harrold that she intended each and every one.
“Harrold, Missus Pearson. You look lovely tonight. How you manage that is a wonder.” Harrold dropped his hand as Corbin approached. The widow took the opportunity to open space between them. “I see you found Harrold. Is he all I promised?” Corbin's grin was predatory.
The widow's smile was much wryer. “He is. We have requested he help keep our books.”
“Fabulous. I hope you consider our offer to manage those accounts and see to the will. A lady such as yourself shouldn't worry about business.”
Harrold noticed a slight souring of the widow's expressions. “Yes, well, we need to consider that.” Putting tone with expression, Harrold believed the widow had every intention of running the business herself. A clever woman if she could.
“Harrold,” Veronica called, waving for him to follow her.
“If you'll pardon me, the wife calls.”

“Yes, an obedient husband is rewarded,” the widow teased with a gleam in her eye.

Tuesday, 5 August 2014

Tantalizing Tuesday - Prickly


The sun lit the dust motes hanging in the air, creating tiny sparks of light that shifted, appeared and disappeared at will. In direct contrast, voices lifted, increasing in pitch and volume. The stillness stirred, whirling the in passing of the smaller of the two people in the kitchen. The larger walked by, but paused, letting the sun shine on his head and shoulders, both bent over the window sill. His knuckles whitened as he increased his pressure on the shelf holding a dozen tiny pots. They needed watering, again.

Turning his back on the other, the one still yelling, he filled a pitcher and began spilling a small amount in each, careful that none received too much at once, watching the drips pool on the wood around the base of each pot. He stopped before the water could run. Several of the dark green plants had blooms - yellow, pink, coral. They weren’t fragrant and the plants themselves were armed with spikes, but that only made them more beautiful, just like the other person in the room.

“Well?” the smaller one asked.

“If I hug you, will you prick me?”

“I’ll give you a prick.”

He hugged her anyway.

Please check out all the other teasers by visiting the blog.