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.

Facebook Launch Party Pt. 3

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

There will be two questions based on this section. For each question, the first two people to respond with the correct answer will win a prize. So there are a total of four winners for this scene.

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.

 

She dreamed of hard male hands and a rough voice crooning erotic orders.

Which was why waking up with a cat’s ass in her face was so disconcerting. “Meow!” the ass said in a distinctly demanding tone.

“Jesus, SIG, get your butt out of my face.” Alex batted the Siamese’s chocolate-tipped tail away from her nose.

“Meow.” SIG Sauer turned and rolled his fuzzy head against her chin.

“All right, all right, I’m up. Way to ruin a perfectly good wet dream, furball.”

Tumbling reluctantly out of bed, Alex bent to pick up last night’s dress and hang it up in the closet, as she’d been too pleasure-drunk to do the night before. Scratching her ribs through the black Morgan County Sheriff’s Office T-shirt she’d worn to bed, she wandered into the bathroom, SIG bitching at her heels. She took care of business to the sounds of the cat’s increasingly irate Siamese curses.

“Keep your fur coat on. I’ll feed you in a minute.”

There were only four rooms in the old house, not counting the bathroom her great-grandparents had built onto the back porch five decades before. Alex padded out of the main bedroom, through the den, and into the kitchen, avoiding SIG’s affectionate attempts to trip her on the way.

In the kitchen, an elderly white refrigerator hummed and rattled across from an equally ancient electric stove. A rubber dish drainer sat on the counter beside the stainless steel sink, dark brown to match the wallpaper’s crowing roosters. Yellowing lace curtains hung at the tiny window. The morning sunlight shone through them, casting golden light and lacy shadows on worn, brown-speckled linoleum.

But old though the house was, she didn’t have to pay rent. She’d inherited it from her grandmother, and had been damned glad to get it. Besides, she was doing good to afford cat food on a deputy’s salary. Renovations were out of the question.

Worn linoleum felt cool underfoot as she got SIG a can of cat food from one of the cabinets. The can opener ground over the sound of his increasingly frantic meows. “Oh, for God’s sake, you’d think you hadn’t been fed in a week.” Alex dumped the can into his bowl, and watched him plunge his head into it with a satisfied feline growl.

Which reminded her of the much deeper growl Frank had produced while plunging his cock into her helpless cunt. God, what an arousing scene. As she filled SIG’s water dish, she tried to remember the last time she’d burned that hot for a man. And came up blank.

No surprise. If she’d special ordered her ideal Dom, Frank would have been it: towering, chiseled, and just sadistic enough to be interesting. The mere thought of him made cream flood her pussy until she gave serious thought to going in search of her vibrator.

WITHOUT RESTRAINT Facebook Launch Party Pt. 2

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

There will be two questions based on this section. For each question, the first two people to respond with the correct answer will win a prize. So there are a total of four winners for this scene.

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.

SCENE 2

“Judging by that kiss, it must have gone well,” Cap observed as red taillights disappeared.

“Yeah. Alex surprised me. Subs don’t often manage that.”

“Did she?” They turned back toward the big brick Colonial.

“She challenged me to hand-to-hand.” Reading Cap’s lifted brows, Frank added, “No kicks or blows. It was more of a judo thing. Two out of three throws.” He felt his mouth stretch into a wicked grin. “Winner fucks the loser.”

Cap laughed as they walked back into the house. The basement soundproofing was good; no audible cries or thumps sounded from downstairs. “Sounds like you won either way. I assume you did win?”

“Oh, yeah. After I underestimated her on the first engagement and she put me on my ass. She’s good. Got me in a joint lock. Could have snapped my elbow like a bread stick.”

“I’m not surprised. She’s been training with Ted for years.”

“That’s what she said. I gather he’s something of a badass.”

“Former Green Beret.”

“I’ll keep that in mind the next time I piss him off. He’s pretty fucking protective.” They passed through the living room with its stone fireplace and elegant wine leather furniture.

Just beyond that, the Millers’ kitchen looked something out of the Food Network programs Frank had grown addicted to. White-painted cabinets piped in burgundy surrounded stainless steel appliances that testified to Joanna’s love of cooking.

Cap walked over to the coffeemaker that steamed and burbled on the gleaming black Silestone counter. Frank inhaled appreciatively. The air smelled like fresh beans from somewhere they grew expensive coffee. “What’s the story with this ex-Dom of hers?”

“Like I said, he was a dickhead.” The old SEAL turned to the refrigerator and pulled out a tiny white pitcher of cream, then rattled around in drawers and cabinets looking for the sugar bowl, mugs, and a couple of spoons. “Most of us become Doms because it turns us on when a woman gives herself. Then you have your plain vicious bastards. It can sometimes be tricky for a sub to tell the hardasses from the assholes until things get the hell out of hand. That’s what happened with Alex—fell in with a Dom who liked to use his fists even more than a crop.”

“Her Dom beat her?”

“Once. Only once. And then she kicked his ass.” He poured them each a cup. “That’s why Ted kept giving you the stink eye. He feels guilty he didn’t figure out what Gary Ames was before the prick started using his fists.”

Frank swore viciously.

“Yeah, that’s exactly what I said when she told me.” He paused, doctoring his coffee as Frank did the same. “For what it’s worth, Alex made ol’ Gar pay, but the cocksucker did get in some nasty shots—including kicks—before she managed to put him down. He had thirty pounds and two inches on her, so she had to work at it.”

“You and Ted bury him in the county landfill?”

“I was seriously tempted, but Ted convinced me jail would suck at my age. I hate it when Ted’s the voice of reason. Sure sign you’ve fucked up somewhere.”

“I admire your self-control.”

“Wasn’t easy. For what it’s worth, Alex made sure the little shit was charged with domestic violence.”

“Good for her. Did he get any time?”

“Probation. Apparently he’d never beaten the hell out of a woman before, so the judge decided to give him a stern talking-to.”

Frank wasn’t surprised. South Carolina law treated criminal domestic violence like one man beating another man in a bar, instead of the brutal act of betrayal it actually was. “So where does this future corpse live?”

“Sorry, ’fraid somebody beat you to it. Literally. Clubbed him like a baby seal a month ago.”

“And you say he’s not in the landfill?”

“Hey, don’t look at me. Alex’s daddy wasn’t exactly a fan either. Luckily, we were all in Columbia with ten thousand of our closest witnesses.” When Frank lifted his brows, he explained, “Her father’s the Harrison High football coach. They were playing Irmo.”

“Alex is Ken Rogers’s daughter?” The man was practically a legend. He’d led the Harrison Hawks to four state championships and was universally worshiped by every man who’d ever played for him. In Morgan County, that seemed to be most of them.

“Yup.” Cap bared his teeth over the rim of his cup. “As for the douchebag ex, his murder hasn’t been solved. Hell, they only managed to ID him from his tatts.”

“Sounds messy.”

“Oh, it was. The killer did a really thorough job on his head with some kind of thick, heavy object. Flashlight or a rolling pin or something equally well deserved.”

Frank toasted Cap with his mug. “Long may he rot.”