Tuesday, August 04, 2015

Without Restraint Facebook Party Pt. 4

Here's the fourth section of my contest to win prizes I'll be giving away on my Facebook Launch Party:

This is the grand prize question. First place is a Kindle Fire, 2nd Place is a $25 gift certificate to the online bookstore of your choice, and 3rd place is a signed copy of WITHOUT RESTRAINT.

Please note that you can't participate if you're under 18, because this content is strictly adult. 

You can buy Without Restraint on Amazon and Barnes and Noble, among others.

Alex gasped, imagining being tied and helpless while that whip bit her ass and straining thighs. Frank’s feral gaze on her, hungry as the hard jut of his cock behind his blue-jeaned fly, accompanied by the click of riding boots. Building her heat until she thought she’d burst into flame from sheer lust. Until even he couldn’t take it anymore, and his zipper hissed, loud in the gasping quiet, and he thrust deep, so deep, seeming to fill her all the way to her back teeth.
Her hips pumped helplessly, her mind leaped to the memory of the way he’d stalked her, that gorgeous cock swaying . . .
The first notes of the Beatles’ “Let it Be” rose above Thumper’s delicious hum.
“Oh, you have got to be kidding me!” Alex panted in frustration. She was so close . . .
And her mother would be so pissed if she let the call go to voice mail. Mary Rogers knew her schedule as well as she did. Jerking Thumper out of her frustrated sex, Alex switched the vibe off and tossed it aside. Scooping up her cell, she swiped a thumb across its screen, cutting off Paul McCartney in mid-be. “Hi, Mom.”
“Hi, baby!” Mary said, her voice sounding so loving it was hard to be pissed even under the circumstances. “Hope I didn’t interrupt anything.”
Alex managed not to grind her teeth. Her mother could detect emotional nuances better than a homicide cop grilling a suspect. “Nah, just killing time. What’s up?”
“Nothing, dear. I couldn’t help noticing you weren’t in church yesterday. Remember, I told you I wanted to introduce you to that nice boy I told you about. The electrician?” Anybody under forty was a boy to her mother.
“Yeah, sorry. Rough night.”
“I really think you’d like him. He’s so cute, and such a nice man!”
I don’t want a nice man, Ma. I want a man who will beat my ass with a riding crop. Which was not something she could say to her mother. Ever. “I’m not looking for anything serious right now, Mom. I don’t think it’s fair to start a relationship I don’t intend to pursue.”
“You need to get back on the horse, honey. I know Gary hurt you . . .”
You have no idea. She hadn’t told her mother what her ex-lover had done that last brutal night, explaining the bruises away as being the result of a fight with a drunk. Which had been perfectly true. She just hadn’t told her mother who the drunk was. If she had, the sheriff would have had to charge her dad, her three brothers—and probably Mary herself—with first-degree lynching.
Hell, it had been all Alex could do to keep Cap and Ted from beating the fuck out of Gary, not that she hadn’t been tempted to let them go to it.
Apparently he’d had that effect on somebody else. Someone who’d actually done it.
So now she said only, with perfect honesty, “I’m over Gary. I’ve been over Gary.” Since he stopped using a flogger and started using his fists.
Though he still didn’t deserve to die that way. She didn’t grieve for Gary, but she did pity him.
“Good. You should be. I hate to speak ill of the dead, but your father and I never liked that man. I do not understand what you saw in him.”
“In retrospect, neither do I.”
Her mother, of course, pounced on the opening like SIG on a catnip mouse. “That’s why I think you’ll really like Jimmy. He really is a perfect gentleman. Why don’t you come to prayer meeting Wednesday, and I’ll introduce you?”
Oh, God, no. Trouble was, she hated disappointing her mother.
A flamethrower blast of guilt made Alex mentally writhe. If her mom knew what she’d done last night, where she’d been, what she’d been doing for years . . . Imaging the shock and horror on her parents’ faces, she shuddered.
“Alexis?” Mary prompted. “Do you think you can make it?”
“I don’t know. I’ve got work that night.”
“Alexis Eleanor Rogers, your shift starts at midnight,” her mother said, exasperated. “You could be home from church in plenty of time to get ready, even if you and Jimmy go out for coffee afterward.”
“I’ll see, Mom. Look, I’ve got to go. If I don’t get in my five miles now, I’m not going to get them in at all.”
Her mother had been married to a high school coach too long not to understand the importance of working out. “Well, all right, dear. Love you!”
“Love you, too, Mom.” Alex swiped her thumb over the screen’s end button and slumped back against the pile of pillows, flinging one arm over her eyes.