Hi! Here's the first chapter of SOUTHERN SHIELDS, my newest novel. I'm not sure of the publication date at this point, and I don't have the cover. I think it will probably be out next year, around Spring, as LOVE BITES comes out in September, 2014.
Please note that this is an EROTIC ROMANCE novel for people over 18. If you're under that, PLEASE go somewhere else! This book is really, seriously, not for you at all. Your mom would kill both of us if you read it, and I'm too young to die. Thanks!
Alexis
Rogers shifted on her high heels, nibbling her lower lip. Her mouth felt dry,
probably because every drop of moisture in her body had taken up residence
between her thighs. God, she’d never been so turned on.
Especially
not from watching somebody else have sex.
And
how the hell did Frank turn swinging a bullwhip into a sex act? Not just a kink
act—something that aroused you if you had a little twist in that direction. Which
admittedly, Alex did. No, he used the lash with sensual precision, as if he
were eating out the blonde lying across the spanking bench. Plump, pretty and
naked, Tara merely groaned in woozy pleasure.
Thirty
people surrounded the two in the basement dungeon, watching with rapt interest.
One of them was Tara’s husband, who leaned a shoulder against the cement block
wall. Roy was a gangly dominant with thinning blond hair whose hazel eyes were
fixed intently on his wife. Though he loved bondage and emotional domination,
Roy couldn’t bring himself to hurt his masochistic submissive. He often
arranged for someone else to provide the impact play Tara craved.
Apparently,
Frank had volunteered to provide them with the foreplay this time. And foreplay
was all he’d be getting out it; Tara and Roy never had penetrative sex with anyone
but each other.
That
was okay. If all went as planned, Alex would make it up to the big dominant. Or
maybe not; she’d have to see.
Still,
the Captain—host of tonight’s house party--had been talking about Frank for
years. She gathered they’d served together in the Navy before Cap retired and
left San Diego to come to Atlanta with his wife.
Now
it seemed Frank had moved to the area too. Must have been recently. Alex had
never seen the big dominant at any of the very private parties Cap and his wife
threw for close friends among Atlanta’s kinksters.
CRACK!
The popper—the fringe at the very tip of the bullwhip—struck Tara’s reddening
ass. By rights, it ought to sting like a bitch, but Frank had Tara so high on
endorphins and adrenalin, it seemed she no longer felt the pain at all. At
least not judging by the moan that sounded far more like pleasure than pain.
Which
was a testament to his skill as a dominant. He’d built the intensity slowly,
starting with a spanking, then progressing through two different floggers—the
first deerskin, the second with thinner tresses that made the submissive yelp
at the sting. The blows he gave her were hard, but not too hard, letting Tara
sink into the sensations and get properly turned on. Only then had he got out
the bullwhip.
Between
clusters of strikes, Frank gave her erotic caresses, stroking her pussy and
reddening ass. The combination of pain and pleasure had sent her flying on her
body’s natural endorphins and adrenalin. Alex knew from experience that the
high was similar to what some runners felt during a marathon—a floating,
delicious euphoria. Pursuit of that erotic high was what drove subs like
Tara—and Alex herself, for that matter—to seek out dominants like Frank.
Skilled, a little sadistic, with a keen understanding of a submissive’s darkest
needs.
Yeah,
Frank definitely knew his way around a sub’s body, just as the Captain had
said.
Now
the overhead spotlight pouring down on the blonde caught the wet glisten of
rosy vaginal lips. She lay with wrists and ankles cuffed to the bench’s legs,
the wedge shape of the custom-made bench raising her hips higher than her head.
Offering up her curvy little ass to her sensual tormentor.
Pacing
around Tara, Frank dealt out another set of carefully measured blows, watching
her with an absorbed erotic intensity. He seemed acutely aware of every twitch
of her full ass, flex of her fingers, and heartfelt sensual moan. He moved like
a bullfighter as he swung the whip in practiced, hissing arcs, using a blend of
athleticism and grace that was all the more impressive considering his size.
Frank
was big. Really big.
Alex,
who was good at judging height and weight—she had to be, given her job—figured
him at 6’5” or -6”, maybe two hundred and forty deliciously muscled pounds. If
there was an ounce of fat anywhere on the man, she couldn’t see where. He’d
pulled his shirt off in the dungeon’s warmth, revealing broad, brawny shoulders
and the kind of bare torso that rippled in interesting places. His long legs
were clad in faded jeans tucked into polished leather riding boots.
God,
she’d always had a thing for riding boots.
It
was harder to make out the details of his face as he paced in the basement’s
shadows. Fortunately, he’d e-mailed Alex a photo a week or so ago.
His
features had a kind of stark good looks, with a long, thin nose, cleft chin,
and a pugnaciously broad jaw. He wore his black hair in a stern military cut
that emphasized the stark angularity of his cheekbones. The total effect might
have been forbidding, had it not been for his mouth. Wide, with a plump lower
lip and a pronounced upper bow, it looked soft, deliciously kissable.
Alex
had wanted to taste that seductive mouth the moment the photo popped into her
e-mail.
Patience, she told herself. Cap had
said he’d introduce them after the scene. And since the Captain was a notorious
kinkster matchmaker, she knew he’d keep his promise.
CRACK!
Powerful
muscle rippled along Frank’s right arm and across his wide chest as he popped
the whip against Tara’s ass. The sub caught her breath, then let it out in a long,
erotic groan.
“Rate
it,” Frank ordered, in voice so rich and deep, it seemed to tighten something
in Alex’s sex.
Tara
didn’t answer. He stalked around the bench, wrapped a huge fist in her cascade
of blonde curls, and jerked her head back with a dominant’s showy snarl. “When
I ask you a question, you damned well answer. Talk to me!”
“Uh…”
The girl panted. Her voice sounded slurred, barely coherent. “I don’t…” Yeah,
she was definitely flying. All those endorphins had rendered her barely
coherent.
Frank
glanced toward Roy. Tara’s husband nodded and picked up the blanket and bottle
of water he’d had waiting for this moment.
Crouching
by Tara’s head, Frank began talking to her in a low voice as her husband joined
them.
“You
can tell a lot about a dom by the way he gives aftercare,” Calvin Stephens
observed from Alex’s shoulder. “He could have just let her husband handle it,
but he’s taking part. Point in his favor.” The submissive turned to the man
next to him. His narrow, clever face split in a grin that revealed teeth so
white, they appeared to glow against his dark skin. “You’ve always been good at
aftercare, Sir.”
Ted
Arlington snorted. He was a head shorter than Alex, between the heels she was
wearing and the fact she was 5’10” to begin with. Even so, his build was all
muscle and power—and he knew how to use it. Any idiot who assumed he could kick
Ted’s ass because he was short soon learned otherwise. Beneath the brush cut he
had a broad, squared-off, intensely masculine face, with a full-lipped mouth, a
round bulb of a nose and a blond mustache. “You’re just saying that because I
always give you cock as part of the aftercare package.”
Cal
grinned wickedly, dipping his dark gaze to his dominant’s zipper. “And what a
nice package it is, Sir.”
“Suck
up.”
“But
you like it when I suck.”
“You’re
pushing it, subbie.”
As
the two went into their standard teasing routine, Alex’s gaze slid across the
basement in search of Frank.
He’d
helped Roy unbuckle Tara from the spanking bench so the two men could wrap her
in the blanket. As Alex watched, they helped her over to one of the couches
that stood against the big basement’s walls. Pulling what was probably a trail
mix bar from his pocket, Frank sank down beside the couple to unwrap it for
her. Meanwhile, Roy helped her with the bottle of water she couldn’t quite
manage on her own.
“I
don’t know about you two,” Alex said, with a nod toward the trio, “but I’m
impressed.”
“That’s
not saying much.” Ted folded his massive arms and braced his legs apart. His
brush cut hair shone pale blond under one of the basement’s recessed lights.
“You were also impressed by Gordon.”
Alex
forced a smile to hide the sting of pain she felt. “Well, Gordon was very
pretty.”
“So’s
a coral snake. I still wouldn’t fuck one.”
“Sir,
you do know gay men are supposed to be sensitive, right?”
“Sass
me one more time, subbie, and I’ll make you so sensitive you won’t be able to
sit for the next week.”
“Oh,
would you, Sir?”
“Keep
it up,” Ted growled, eying him with the expression of exaggerated menace he
reserved for his dom act. Alex had seen his real menacing expression frequently
in the course of the job. It was one hell of a lot colder. “As for you…” He
turned to give her the same look he’d just given Calvin. “I want to talk to
this Frank before you traipse off to scene with him, got me? I don’t want you
hurt by some Mr. Danger Dom. I worked too damn long to turn you into a good cop
to lose you to an asshole.”
Alex
smiled, warmed by both the uncharacteristic compliment and her friend’s gruff
concern. “You know good and damned well the Captain isn’t going to set me up
with a Danger Dom.”
“Unless
I’m really, really mistaken, I somehow doubt the Captain has ever slept with
Frank, much less subbed for him.”
“You’re
not mistaken, Sir,” Cal assured him. “Cap definitely doesn’t bat for our team.”
“And
how would you know that, Cal?” Alex narrowed her eyes in mock suspicion. “Been
flirting?”
“With
the Captain?” The slender young man recoiled in mock horror. “God, no. He scares
me. He looks like Captain Picard’s bigger, meaner brother.”
“You
are such a nerd, Cal.”
He
put up both hands. “Hey, my mom’s a fan. She raised me on reruns of Next Gen.”
“Your
mom,” she drawled, pumping skepticism
into her voice. “Riiiiiiight. Tell it to somebody who doesn’t know you and your
fanboy buddies. I’ve heard y’all argue about whether Captain Picard is cooler
than Captain Kirk way too many times.”
“That’s
self-evident,” Cal said loftily. “Kirk is much
cooler. Take how he handled the Klingons…”
“Look,
this is serious, Alex,” Ted snapped, before she could make a concerted effort
to divert him with the Alex-and-Cal comedy hour. “Not that you’ve ever had the
sense to be afraid--of anything—but this guy is big enough to hurt you no
matter how good you are in a fight. Don’t give him the chance.”
“Don’t
worry, Dad, I won’t.”
“None
of your lip.” Ted glowered at her. “Just because I don’t do women, that doesn’t
mean I won’t whip your little ass as hard as the subbie’s.”
“And
that’s pretty damned hard,” Cal put in.
“Yeah,
okay, I hear you.” Her gaze slid back toward Frank again.
Ted
looked at Cal. “I just wasted my breath, didn’t I?”
“Might
as well try to blow out a forest fire like a birthday candle,” Cal agreed.
“She’s completely under his evil spell.” His voice turned dreamy. “His
muscular, towering, evil, evil spell.”
“I
am definitely kicking your ass tonight.”
Which,
knowing Cal, was precisely what he’d had in mind.
The
redhead was driving Frank Murphy crazy. Alex—they’d exchanged e-mails, but she
hadn’t revealed her last name yet--wore the proverbial little black dress that
hugged some luscious curves. Throw in those lace-stocking-clad legs and
skyscraper heels, and it was no wonder he was finding it impossible to
concentrate. Which was unacceptable, especially when he was providing aftercare
to somebody he’d just whipped right into subspace.
Focus on Tara, dammit. He’d told Roy he’d take
care of her, and he’d do it if it killed him.
Be
easier if he could throw a burqa over Alex though. Those legs…God, the Leg
Fairy had been good to the girl. Endless as a Fallujah patrol, with long, lean
muscle in thigh and calf that flexed every time she twitched a do-me heel. He’d
bet his Trident she ran every fucking day. He’d love to have her wrap his ass
in those legs while he ground in nice and deep…
No
wonder he had a hard-on up to his navel.
Tara, dammit. Get your mind
back on Tara.
Discipline wasn’t usually this much a problem. Between Iraq, Afghanistan, and
his mother—and all their respective IEDs, whether literal or not--Frank knew
how to gut it out through almost anything.
Roy
looked up at him over Tara’s blonde head. “I can take it from here. Go talk to
Alex.”
He
stiffened. Was his distraction that damned obvious?
“You
done good, Frank,” the man reassured him. “I’ve never seen anybody send Tara
flying this high. It’s going to take me an hour to pull her down out of
orbit—assuming she stays awake that long. I only know about Alex because Cap’s
been talking about setting you two up since he heard you were moving back to
the area.”
“Ah.
All right. Look, thanks for trusting me to scene with your wife.” Smiling, he
shook the other dom’s hand and rose. “You’re a lucky man.”
“Don’t
I know it.” Roy gave Tara a tender smile as she leaned against his shoulder.
She sent him a slow, dazed blink in return. “See you later, Frank.”
“Later.”
Pivoting, he looked around for his host, wanting the introduction Cap had
promised him.
“Nice
scene, son,” a voice rumbled from behind him. “You flew that girl higher than
any Space Shuttle ever went.”
Frank
turned with a smile. “You’d have sent her higher.”
“Now
you’re just flattering an old man’s ego.” Captain Kyle Miller was a tall, spare
man, wiry and tough, with a fringe of gray hair around his otherwise gleaming
bald head. His intense blue-eyed stare had a way of making even Frank want to
drop his gaze. The intimidation factor was increased by his hawkish nose and
wide, thin-lipped mouth. The black golf shirt he wore with black slacks
revealed biceps that were still respectable, though he was old enough to have
done two tours in Vietnam as a Navy SEAL. He’d stayed in after the war, making
the jump from enlisted man to Officer Training School, eventually working his
way up to captaining a destroyer in the course of his forty-year career. But in
his heart, he was still a Navy SEAL.
Not,
all in all, a man to fuck with.
“Let’s
go get you properly introduced,” Cap said, and turned to lead the way through
the crowded basement. It seemed his kinkster guests were all setting up their
own scenes, now that Frank’s bullwhip demo was over. “Y’all made any contact
yet?”
Frank
shrugged. “Exchanged a few e-mails, a photo or two, chatted on the phone a
couple of times. Enough to know our tastes are compatible and both of us have
tested negative for STDs recently. I’ve been so busy getting all the
requirements done for the new job—not to mention stuff with my mom—that I
haven’t managed to set up an actual date yet.” He frowned. “She hasn’t told me
much personal stuff, beyond that she’s not married.”
Cap
shrugged. “I’m not surprised. She’s pretty far into the closet, as far as the
scene goes. Most everybody at the party tonight is.”
“Including
me.” Being known as kinky could get you fired or ostracized, especially in the
socially conservative, highly religious South. People had even lost their kids
over being in the scene.
Which
was why, as in the movie Fight Club,
many kinksters never publically discussed anything they’d done, where they’d
done it, or who they’d done it with.
The
price of running your mouth could be entirely too high.
As
his attention focused on Alex, Frank put out a hand to stop his friend. “Who’s
the guy glaring at me from beside her? The dom that looks like a blond fireplug
standing next to the black sub in the harness. I thought she wasn’t involved
with anybody.” The man wore the black leather pants and black T-shirt that
constituted a popular uniform for dominants everywhere, just as that leather loincloth
and artistic arrangement of straps was a common costume for male submissives.
The
old SEAL laughed. “That’s Ted—he and the black kid are a couple.”
“So
what’s with the glare? They in a ménage with Alex?” Frank was the last man to
poach. Not after what had happened a year and a half ago.
“That’d
be damned near incest, the way Ted is about that girl. And no, they’re not
related--you’d just think he was her daddy, he’s so protective.” Cap grimaced,
as if at an unpleasant memory. “Ted absolutely hated her last dom, not that you
could blame him. That one was such a prick, he should have worn a condom over
his face as a warning to the rest of us.” Correctly interpreting Frank’s wary
expression, he added, “Don’t worry about Ted, I’ll deal with him. You
concentrate on Alex.”
Frank
frowned, wondering if all that was an indication the sub was going to be more
trouble than she was worth.
Then
Alex turned, pivoting on those incredible legs, gleaming red hair curling around
her shoulders, that black dress hugging bra-challenged breasts and curvy hips.
When she saw him headed toward her with Cap, a smile lit her pretty face.
On the other hand, what’s
life without a little trouble?
Good God, he’s huge, Alex thought, staring up at
Frank Murphy as Cap introduced them with a flourish. She wasn’t used to being
towered over, especially not in heels that had her scraping 6’1”. If he got drunk and disorderly on me on the
street, I’d have to shoot him. Otherwise he’d kick my ass.
Of
course, if she did shoot him, the rest of the female population would probably
rise up en masse and lynch her. If anything, the man was even more
mouth-watering up close than he’d appeared from across the room. His chest
alone seemed to take up her entire field of vision. And she definitely approved
of the view.
“It’s
a pleasure to meet you at last, Alex,” Frank said, engulfing her hand in a big,
scarred palm.
“I
can definitely say the same.” His eyes were deep and gray, staring into hers in
the kind of hypnotic dom stare that made her want to give him anything he
wanted. Especially if what he wanted was her. She suspected her smile looked
besotted. Her nipples had drawn into tight points. His eyes flicked down to the
tight silk bodice of her dress, then flicked up again, darkening hungrily. She
swallowed. “Impressive flogging demo.”
“You
do seem to know your way around a whip,” Ted observed coolly from her shoulder.
His tone indicated some skepticism that Frank’s other skills were as
well-developed.
Frank
laughed, a dark, lovely rumble that made her pussy tighten. “Thanks. I
sacrificed a lot of pillows to the bondage gods to learn how to use a lash.” Doms
were often told to practice learning how to use a whip by practicing on pillows
and stuffed animals.
“Got
any references?”
“Yes,
and I already checked them,” Alex told him, not for the first time. He was
deliberately trying to yank Frank’s chain, and it was starting to annoy her.
Cap
moved up behind Ted and clapped a hand on the shorter man’s beefy shoulder.
“Come on, Ted, I’ll get you a beer.”
“I
don’t drink when I’m sceneing,” the cop replied shortly, his gaze still locked
on Frank’s in challenge.
“Then
I’ll get you a Coke.” The SEAL pulled Ted away. Cal rolled his eyes, gave Alex
a wink, and followed them.
One
thick, dark brow lifted, Frank watched them head for the refreshment table set
up beyond the bondage gear. “Protective, isn’t he?”
Alex
sent a smile after her friends. “Can’t seem to break him of the habit.”
A
woman cried out, the sound halfway between pain and pleasure. Someone else
shouted, the sound ringing over Jim Morrison’s throaty croon demanding that
someone light his fire.
Alex
had to raise her voice to be heard over the snap and whish of a flogger and the
yelps of its target. “Want to step into the other room? We can’t exactly talk
in here.”
“That
depends. Will Ted feel driven to defend your honor?” Frank grinned, but there
was no malice in his gaze as he looked toward the corner where, judging by his
expression, the SEAL was attempting to reassure the blond dominant.
She
slid an arm through his, enjoying the warm play of his bare biceps under her
hand. “I’ll protect you.”
“Well,
if you promise….”
Alex
laughed. “Pinky swear.”
“Got
a deal. Want something to drink? I’m dry from that flogging.”
“Sure.”
She followed him over to a cooler and took one of the canned soft drinks he
handed her. Neither of them reached for a beer. Ted was right; only an idiot
scened when he was drinking. BDSM was dangerous enough when you were playing
stone sober. Besides, the whole point of kinky games was the pursuit of a
different kind of high.
Rising
to her tiptoes, she said into his ear, “Want to head for the gym?”
Frank
nodded. “If it’s available. It’s for damn sure we can’t negotiate if we can’t
even hear ourselves think.”
The
Millers’ basement was huge, running the whole length of the house. They wound
their way through the dungeon with its bondage gear and party furnishings and
across a short hall to the home gym.
Frank
flipped on the light, revealing a treadmill, a wall-hung flat screen, and a set
of free weights. A couple of thick padded mats probably did duty during yoga or
self-defense practice. Or, knowing the Millers, sex.
Best
of all, the room had a door. Alex didn’t hesitate to close it, cutting the
noise. Frank was right; there was little point in negotiations if neither of
them could hear what they were agreeing to. And once you were bound hand and
foot and a big guy was standing over you with a whip, it was a bad time to
discover you didn’t have the same thing in mind.
The
skirt of her LBD was just loose enough to let her lower herself down on the
stacked mats. Frank sat next to her, stretching his long legs out and crossing
his booted feet at the ankles.
“I
really was impressed with the way you helped Tara find subspace.” She popped
the top on the Coke and took a sip. After she swallowed, she added, “Wasn’t
surprised, though. Both those subs had a lot of good things to say about you.”
She might be an adrenalin junky, but Alex wasn’t stupid; she’d called his
references. It wasn’t a good idea to play with someone you hadn’t checked out,
since BDSM did attract its share of assholes. God knew she’d found that out the
hard way. “They said you play responsibly, push just far enough without going
too far, and have a chivalrous streak that’s surprisingly wide for a guy who
likes using a whip. And judging by the way Cap sings your praises, you may be
his favorite person on the planet—except for Mrs. Cap, of course.”
“Cap’s
a hell of a guy. He taught me the ropes when I was just starting out on the
scene.” Frank eyed her over his Mountain Dew. “He thinks a lot of you, too.”
“Really?
Cool.” She leaned back on her elbows,
and didn’t miss the way his gaze skimmed the length of her legs. “What’d you
think of my limits list?” The question didn’t sound quite as casual as she
would have liked, though she hoped her tension didn’t show.
He
grinned, flashing white teeth. “I’m shocked—shocked, I say--by your kinkitude.”
She
grinned back. “Smartass.”
Some
doms might have been offended by the cheerful insult, but judging by his
chuckle, Frank obviously didn’t take himself that seriously.
She
liked that about him. A lot.
Sobering,
he brushed the back of her hand with his thumb. “Our tastes do seem to align
pretty well.”
She’d
thought the same thing when she’d read his list of hard limits—things he
absolutely wouldn’t do—soft limits—things he’d consider doing—and fantasies. It
had read a lot like the one she’d written about her own tastes.
On
the other hand, she’d thought she was a good match with Gordon, too.
He
studied her thoughtfully, as if sensing the battle between her doubts and her desire.
“Why don’t we see how this evening goes?”
Alex
blew out a breath. “That might be wise.”
He
started to lean toward her, only to stop. “May I kiss you?” A polite dominant
never touched a sub without permission.
Her
heart began to pound. “Yes.” She swallowed, cleared her throat. “I’d like
that.”
Hot
approval flared in his eyes, and he lowered his head toward hers.
His
lips felt just as soft as they looked, tasting of Mountain Dew and masculinity.
One big hand came up to cup her cheek, his fingers long and strong and warm.
His broad body curled around hers, making her feel sheltered, protected. It
wasn’t a sensation she was used to. She was surprised at how seductive it was.
She
reached for him, feeling the hot flesh of his ribs under her palm.
And
sighed, melting into him.
I hope you enjoyed this chapter. If so, let me know on my Facebook page. Thanks!
Angela Knight
