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.”

WITHOUT RESTRAINT Facebook Launch Party PT 1

Here's the first section of my contest to win one of a number of prizes I'll be giving away on my Facebook Launch Party, here: https://www.facebook.com/events/691024061001758/

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.

As Frank stared in stunned hunger, she balanced on first one foot, then the other to slip off the fuck-me heels. “I want you to prove you can master me. Two out of three falls.”

It wasn’t that unusual for a sub to undress at a BDSM party; half the women here weren’t wearing a stitch. But Frank hadn’t expected Alex to strip before they’d even finished negotiating.

He watched hungrily as she rolled the stockings down the sleek muscle of thigh and calf. However he’d thought their first scene would go, this wasn’t it. “Two out of three falls? Are you suggesting some kind of fight?” He didn’t fight women. Not if he could help it anyway; sometimes the women had other ideas.

“More like a practice bout. No punches, kicks, or choke holds—you’d kill me.” Alex sounded utterly matter-of-fact about the whole thing. “Just joint locks and throws. And pins. Loser taps out of the hold.” She looked up from rolling the other stocking down her calf. She’d bent almost double to do it, making him imagine all the erotic possibilities of a sub that flexible. “Unless you don’t want to.”

His cock lengthened, on the verge of escaping his waistband. Frank ignored its dicky demands; he needed to know exactly what she intended. “So you’re not talking about me actually hitting you? Because there’s a big difference between flogging somebody with a deerskin cat and punching her with my fist.”

She snorted. “I have no interest in trading punches with you, Frank. You’re too far out of my weight class.”

“Yeah, I am. What do I get if I win?” When he won was more like it; not only was he a SEAL, he outweighed her by a hundred pounds of muscle. She didn’t have a prayer.

Alex grinned at him as if reading his mind and shifted her weight, calling attention to those lush female curves. “What do you want?”

“You.” He showed his teeth and let the hunger show.

She smiled. “If you win, you get me.” When his head tilted in question, she clarified. “Sex. With a condom. However you want it.”

His smile broadened, and he started pulling off his boots. “I’ll win.”

“Maybe. I don’t intend to make it easy.”

“Good.” After dropping his socks into his boots, he stood, barefoot. And looked down at her from his seven-inch height advantage. Her eyes drifted down his bare torso to the fly of his jeans, which bulged from the pressure of his erection. “Dicks are off-limits,” he added quickly.

“Well, not completely, I hope.” Alex glanced around before he could come up with a suitably suggestive response. “Let’s put the mats out.” Bending, she grabbed one of them to pull it into position in the center of the room. The sight of her round, perfect ass as she bent made his mouth go dry. Dragging his attention back to business with an effort, he caught the other mat and wrestled the bulky thing around beside the first one.

Frank straightened as she stepped onto the padded surface, falling into an easy crouch that did interesting things to her breasts. He moved to face her, his attention on those pale globes. Her nipples looked as pink and tempting as candy.

“What’s your safeword?” He referred to the emergency code a sub used to let the Dom know something had gone wrong during the scene, whether physically or mentally.

“Red for stop, yellow for slow down. Green for okay.” The stoplight system was commonly used because it was so easy to remember. “Stop,” ironically, was the one word that was never used, mostly because some subs liked to scream it when what they really meant was “Keep going!”

When he hesitated, Alex smirked. “We going to go, or are you just going to stand there looking sexy?” She crouched like a knife fighter.

“Oh, we’re going.” Frank felt a hot smile spread across his face.

He’d heard of a lot of inventive ways to play BDSM games, but this was a variant he’d never tried.