Friday, 30 June 2017

The Goat-to Guy

Francisco de Goya: Witches' Sabbath (1798)
I'm away-from-blog and off LARPing this weekend, and it's all going be very goat-themed. Baaah!
Queue puns about horny blokes...

Wednesday, 28 June 2017

Prison of the Angels update

Stella Langdale: illustration for Christ in Hades (1917)
If you need anything else to blame Theresa bloody May for, the snap election she called has caused a bit of a delay in the publication of The Prison of the Angels, the final part of my Book of the Watchers trilogy - as my editor was busy campaigning for the opposition!

Anyway, we're catching up now. I am preparing to devote July to edits, and we should have a cover by August. I've also been told to get my finger out and write a blurb real soon now 😜

Given the usual 3-4 month run-up from final manuscript to paperback publication, we're on track for the end of this year as planned, which is excellent!

It's going to make you cry though.  

"I thought I was a good girl. I thought that no matter what happened around me, no matter the company I kept and no matter what others did for my sake, that I could stay innocent. I thought that as long as I acted out of love, I’d be blameless.
I was wrong, wasn’t I?"

Monday, 26 June 2017

Blue Monday

Every Monday I post an  naughty excerpt for your entertainment!

Today's clip is from Roadside Rescue, a short story that appeared in the themed anthology Liasons.

Sarah is on her way to an assignation with her old college professor, when her car breaks down and she has a spontaneous sexual fling with the garage rescue guy. In this excerpt she begins to re-examine the direction her life is going.

In her hotel room that night, Sarah sat on the edge of her bed and wondered what the hell she’d been thinking of. She’d never tried such a thing in her life before – so what had made her jump a recovery man like that? Sure he wasn’t unattractive, but she’d been on her way to visit someone else. Was that it then? After weeks of anticipation, was it being unable to cope with being frustrated at the last moment?

It wasn’t just weeks, she reminded herself. It was nearly three months since she’d last been able to meet with Mervyn. And then it had been a night at the theatre – two tickets bought separately – and a furtive against-the-wall shuffle in the Ladies’ during the second act.

She recalled that passionate struggle wistfully, but the picture blurred and was ousted by a more recent memory: Gavin shafting her doggy-style on the back seat of the truck cab. His grunts of pleasure as he powered his way into her. His hard thighs and thick cock.

Her phone rang.

Sarah knew who it was before she picked up. She’d left a message on his voicemail as soon as she could, and later rung the hotel reception at Fort William to leave another apology and a backup message: I’m stranded overnight seventy miles south of you.


‘Mervyn – are you okay? Did you get my message?’

‘Yes. Where are you now?’

‘I had to take a hotel room.’ She explained hurried about the car and finished with, ‘Are you coming to pick me up?’

‘I don’t think so. That would hardly be wise.’ He was always very careful about traceability, was Mervyn. He’d never so much as given her a lift to the station. Sarah felt her shoulders sag.

‘Well what are we going to do?’

‘You can drive up tomorrow. And I’m going to wait here – I’m sure I can find something to keep me amused.’

She felt the hurt flex inside her. ‘Are you sure? That’ll only be one night we have together then.’ Even if Gavin does get the car fixed quickly, she added to herself. If it wasn’t until Monday she’d have blown the whole weekend for nothing, plus she would have to take a day’s leave from work.

‘It’ll have to do, if you can’t manage to keep your car roadworthy. Are you in your room at the moment?’

‘Yes.’ She was reeling a little from the clipped accusation.


‘Of course.’

‘Go and look out of the window.’

She stood and went to open the curtains. ‘What am I looking for?’

‘What can you see out there?’

‘Not much – it’s dark.

‘And your room light is on?’


‘Good. What’s out there by daylight?’

‘The main road through the village.’ Gavin had described it as a town but it was really no more than a village with a castle, a tiny museum, and a single hotel. ‘It goes along the water … We’re on a sea-loch here, I think. It’s calm out there. No beach or anything.’

‘Excellent. So anyone out there can see in your lit window?’

She shivered. ‘I guess.’

‘Touch your breast.’

She held her breath.



‘Are you doing it?’


‘I want you to touch your breast, slowly. Squeeze it.’

An inner trickle of warmth told her how much she was in thrall to his voice. ‘Okay,’ she breathed, and cupped the warm curve of her right breast in her free hand. ‘I’m doing it.’

‘Rub your hand all over it. Play with your nipple.’

The familiar ache of excitement was running like a tide through her body. ‘Yes,’ she said.

‘Is it hard? Tell me how you’re doing it.’

It was hard like a bullet. ‘Yes, it is. I’m pinching it between my finger and thumb and twisting it. Like you do to me.’

And do you like that?’

She couldn’t keep her voice quite even. ‘It makes me want to feel your mouth on my breasts.’

‘On your what?’

‘My breasts.’

‘Oh no. You don’t use prissy words like that. Breasts and pussy are for good girls. You’re not a good girl, are you Sarah?’

‘No,’ she whispered.

‘No; you’re a dirty girl aren’t you? I know that. Ever since that day you stayed behind after my lecture for a little extra tuition. Wanting me to fuck you. It’s not allowed, is it, but that didn’t stop you. In your short skirt and tight blouse, wiggling your pert little body at me. Begging me to touch you.’

Sarah shut her eyes. It was all true; hers had been a crazy all-consuming crush on the handsome older man. ‘Yes.’

‘So don’t tell me about your breasts, dirty girl. What is it that you’re touching for me?’

She was on familiar ground. ‘My titties. I’m touching my titties and thinking about the way you suck them.’

His stifled groan was audible. ‘Then get them out for everyone to see, Sarah. Do that now.’

With a whimper she slipped the top buttons of her blouse and laid it open over her breasts. She wasn’t even wearing her bra; that garment was still hanging over a radiator to dry. ‘I’ve got them out. I’m touching my bare titties for you, Mervyn.’

‘That’s right. And anyone looking up at that window can see them now, can’t they?’


‘And what else will they want to see?’

‘No,’ she groaned; ‘please.’

‘Say it.’

‘My … pussy.’

‘Your twat, girl. Your dirty cunt.’

She took a deeper breath. ‘My cunt.’

‘Are you wearing a skirt, Sarah?’

‘Tuck it up then. Pull down your knickers. Show them. Touch yourself. Tits and twat.’ His voice was sounding croaky.


‘Do it now.’

‘Yes.’ She obeyed, easing her panties down her thighs.

‘Have you got your hand right in your snatch, dirty girl?’

‘Yes. Oh, yes.’

‘Let me hear it.’

She lowered the phone to her crotch to let him hear the moist little noises her fingers were making in her slick flesh, and he did not speak for some moments.

‘Now tell me what you’re doing.’

‘I’m fucking myself. I’ve got one leg up on the windowsill and I’m sticking my fingers in my cunt and stroking the juices all over my clit. I’m all wet, Merv. I’m all wet and slippery and my titties are wobbling and I’m going to come soon.’

‘Good. Let me hear you. Let me hear you come, you dirty girl. Touching yourself where everyone can see you, like a real whore. Standing there with your tits on show playing with yoursel-’

She drowned his voice with her own, babbling as she slithered into orgasm. She thought she heard his staccato grunts, but couldn’t be sure, because as her moans died away the connection went dead, and she was suddenly alone in her hotel room with her cheeks burning and the muted TV flickering. She let out a long breath then, almost like a sob.

That was the second time today she’d betrayed Mervyn. She’d pleasured herself just as he’d demanded, but she hadn’t done it in public view. When he’d first told her to touch her nipple she’d moved quietly away from the window and put her back to the wall. The confusing thing was, she didn’t understand why.

Buy Liasons at:
Amazon US :: Amazon UK

Sunday, 25 June 2017

ELO ello ello

While the rest of the nation was glued to the telly-box wishing they were at the Glastonbury Festival, I was dancing to ancient prog-disco-rockers ELO at the Wembley Arena 😁

Which involved considerably less walking and camping ... these things matter at my age!

Friday, 23 June 2017


American Gods has just finished its Season 1 run, and what a lot of fun it was! - As well as laudable in its ethnic inclusivity, male nudity and fairly brave pokes at American Christianity. The CGI might have been ropey under HD, the artsy camerawork a little too self-indulgent, and the plot loaded with a typically Gaimanesque dearth of pace, but it was exactly what was needed whilst awaiting the next Game of Thrones season.  Hooray!

And then there's Shadow Moon, our luckless protagonist...

Shadow is the Everyman human pulled into a modern-day battle between the old pagan gods (Odin, Anansi, etc) and the new (Technology, Media, etc). He's bound to turn out to be pivotal and probably Prophesied (Mr Wednesday put a helluva lot of effort into recruiting him), but right now he just spends most of his time looking sweaty, and confused by the supernatural shenanigans unfolding around him

"OMG, WTF is this place?!"

""OMG y u here, Dead Wife?"
Physically, he looks a whole lot more divine than any of the actual gods!

To my surprise it turns out that the drop-dead gorgeous actor, Ricky Whittle, is actually British and really famous here! - I'd just overlooked his existence because he appeared in a terrible soap called Hollyoaks  that I don't watch (it's possibly the least accurate simulation of life in this country ever broadcast), and a celebrity dance-off series, Strictly Come Dancing, that I don't watch because ugh, dancing, and a SF series called The 100 which I was put off watching because it was full of bloody teenagers.

I can watch this for ages tho
Oh well, there's always Season 2 of American gods and MORE PRETTINESS to look forward to...
I shall leave you with a dance clip, because I'm all about giving the muse a go:

Wednesday, 21 June 2017

Sinful Pleasures lineup

The author lineup has been announced for Sinful Pleasures: an anthology of erotic tales, and it has an official release date of August 20th, yay!

Sinful Press is pleased to announce the release of our first anthology, Sinful Pleasures.Join us as we weave our way from mainstream erotic romance to surreal sex-filled dreamscapes and everything in between, created by some of the best new and established voices in the erotica genre.

Janine Ashbless - The Pier by Night
Ella Scandal
Jo Henny Wolf
Lady Divine
Gail Williams
Tony Fyler
Ellie Barker
Lisa McCarthy

Want an early look? Advanced Reader Copies are now available to reviewers and bloggers, so please contact Lisa Jenkins on:
to grab a copy!

Monday, 19 June 2017

Blue Monday: Samantha MacLeod guests

Every Monday I post a wicked excerpt for your entertainment!

Today's guest is my amazing mythological-smutwriting-twin, Samantha MacLeod, with an excerpt from her latest Norse story Death and Beauty:

Baldr the Beautiful is dead.

Desperate to get back to his privileged role as Óðinn’s favorite son, Baldr strikes a bargain with Hel, the terrifying half living and half skeletal queen of the realm of the dead. He offers her the only thing he’s got: knowledge from the living world. Hel gives him three days. If he can teach her something new, she will return him to the realms of the living.

But the icy Hel seems completely impervious to Baldr’s charms. What’s worse, she already knows everything. By the end of the third day, Baldr realizes he’s only got one chance left to impress her.

Returning to his former life looks like it’s going to depend on Baldr the Beautiful seducing the most formidable woman in the Nine Realms.

I pulled Hel into my arms and kissed her. 

I wasn’t sure what to expect, if her lips would be silky, like her arm, or if I’d feel the hard scrape of bone against my mouth, but I couldn’t resist any longer. She looked so innocent, and so scared. I wanted to comfort her. 

I wanted to taste her.

Her lips felt soft and full against mine. I moved across them gently, feeling the hiss of air as she inhaled, then smiled before kissing her again, more urgently, tilting my head to meet her. I wrapped my arm around her waist, running my hand over the rough cloth of her ridiculously ugly dress as I pressed against her, asking for more.

She pulled back, shaking her head. “I don’t know how to kiss,” she said, her voice shaky and her breath uneven.

“You’re doing just fine.” I already missed her soft weight in my arms. 

She took a deep breath and smoothed the front of her dress. Her shoulders trembled. “I should lie down,” she said, looking at the petal-strewn grass beneath her feet.

Something golden flashed in the space between us. I froze. Hel panted as she stared intently at the ground. And with each ragged exhale, something flickered across her skin, like a slow ripple of light over water. When I wrapped my fingers gently around her wrist, the pulse of light flashed again, stronger and brighter. 

“Do you want to lie down?” I asked.

She shook her head. “Yes. I mean, I don’t know. I don’t…”
I stepped closer, turning my waist so I didn’t impale her with my hard-on, and leaned into her neck, running my lips softly along her skin as I reached around her back for the seam of that horrible dress. I kissed her lightly, listening to her breath catch in her throat as I unbuckled the row of clasps along her back. Her pulse raced, and golden sparks sizzled across her skin as I touched her. I wondered if she noticed them.

When the last clasp was undone, I raised my hand to her shoulder and gently slid the dress down her arms and over her waist. Then I stepped back, smiling at her. 

She had a surprisingly lovely body, curvy and soft. Her single breast was every bit as perfect as I’d imagined. Even her skeletal side seemed vulnerable, not terrifying. I realized I might be the first person to actually see Hel naked. The ripples of light flashed faster and brighter now, obscuring her body as they washed over her. No, maybe not obscuring. It was almost as if there was something else underneath.

Hel hesitated, her brow furrowing. The ripples of light stopped moving over her body, and I realized she was holding her breath. She looked like she was about to cry.

“You okay?” I asked, wrapping my hand around her waist.

“You’re looking at me,” she whispered.

I kissed her again. This time she opened for me, leaning into me, allowing me to explore her secret, hidden places with my tongue. I fell into our kiss, pulling her chest to mine, feeling her breast swell against me as her breast rose with frantic, panting breaths.

“I like looking at you,” I said, when we pulled apart. “You’re fascinating.”

She trembled, hiding her face against my neck, and I realized the truth of my words. Hel was fascinating; she was the single most fascinating woman I’d ever met.

“Let’s lie down,” I said.

Hel nodded and pulled back, stepping out of her dress. She didn’t meet my eyes as she lay down on the petal-strewn grass. Her naked body flashed and rippled with light. I didn’t dare ask about it. 

“Will it hurt?” she asked. “I’ve read that it hurts, the first time.”

I lay down next to her living side, weaving my fingers with hers. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

I brought her hand to my lips and kissed every finger, moving slowly, watching her chest rise and fall. Sometimes, as the web of light surrounding her rippled and crackled, I could see two breasts, their twin nipples tight as rosebuds.

I turned her hand over and brought my lips to her wrist, feeling her pulse race against my mouth. My lips moved slowly up her arm, kissing her as the golden light surged around me. She was gasping by the time I reached her chest; she cried out when I closed my lips over her nipple. Her scent overwhelmed me, and I struggled with the dull throb in my groin. Oh, damn, I wanted her.

I closed my teeth gently around the hard bud of her nipple, and her back arched beneath me. My hand slid down, leaving the soft curve of her chest and caressing her stomach. Her breath stuttered as my hand reached her thighs. I gave Hel’s perfect breast one final kiss and watched her face as my fingers moved between her legs.

Her eyes closed. Both eyes, although I hadn’t been certain her skeletal half had an eyelid. The golden light poured over her now, pulsing in rhythm with her breathing, and her lips parted. 

I caressed the curls outside her sex, waiting and watching for her reaction. Hel groaned, moving her hips into my hand, and I slipped a finger into her folds. She was slick and wet; heat poured from her, bathing my palm. My hand circled her lips, pressing gently as she panted under me, searching for the tight little bud at the apex of her sex.

She gasped when I found it, and her legs tensed around my hand. For a moment I thought that was enough, that I’d brought her to climax with one touch. But she lifted her hips again, moaning a single word.


Death and Beauty can be pre-ordered (or bought from 20th June) at 

Born and raised in Colorado, Samantha MacLeod has lived in every time zone in the US, and London. She has a bachelor’s degree from Colby College and an M.A. from the University of Chicago; yes, the U. of C. really is where fun comes to die. 

Samantha lives with her husband and two small children in the woods of southern Maine. When she’s not shoveling snow or writing steamy sex scenes, Samantha can be found teaching college composition and philosophy to undergraduates who have no idea she leads a double life as an erotica author.

Samantha MacLeod's 

Sunday, 18 June 2017

Another Train

We were at a friend's party the other week, and a folk-trio called Quietfire sang this song, which I thought just extraordinary.

Friday, 16 June 2017

I want it painted black

Can you hear Absolute 80s Radio blasting out from my house? That's a 100%-accurate giveaway that I'm redecorating.

I've been turning our hall from "Presidential Orange" to "Ultrabland Off-White".

And an osprey is about to land on my ass

I'm not touching the blasted woodchip, mind. That can stay into the 22nd Century as far as I'm concerned!

Wednesday, 14 June 2017

Purple pRose

Here's the pretty purple pleats of the cover for The Sexy Librarian's Dirty 30, Vol.2 (edited by the ever-wonderful Rose Caraway). And here's the table of contents!

1.  HONEY, I’M HOME – Chase Morgan
2.  CANVAS – Malin James
3.  JILLING OFF – Silas Bliss
4.  THUNDERCLAP – Sommer Marsden
5.  SWITCHES – Daily Hollow
6.  A POLITE FICTION – Terrance Aldon Shaw
7.  HEAVEN SENT – Jordan Castillo Price
9.  SWEET HEL BELOW – Janine Ashbless
10. BLOSSOMING – Jean Roberta
12. GIRL NUMBER TWENTY – Rose de Fer
17. THE SEER – R.A. Goli
19. PURITY – Melina Greenport
20. DO NOT DISTURB – Sonni de Soto
21. TORRID ZONE – Elliot DeLocke
22. MOBY TIT – Landon Dixon
23. THE THIEF – Michael Lewis
25. LIFE DRAWING 101 – Brantwijn Serrah
26. THE HONEYMOON – Emmanuelle de Maupassant
27. THE DUDE – Spencer Dryden
28. SPIDER TWO, COME IN – M.L. Doyle
30. I REALLY DO BELONG TO YOU – Dorothy Freed

What a line-up - I'm proud and delighted to appear among such company and can't wait to see the book!

If you are a blogger or keen reader and want an advanced review copy, then you can email Rose Caraway to get on the list:

Monday, 12 June 2017

Blue Monday

Every Monday I post a wicked excerpt for your entertainment!

For the Pride Month I thought I'd try to share some f/f  from my back-catalogue. I've pathetically little to choose from, but here's a spanky piece from Named and Shamed:

“Gail!” My voice rose to a shout. “This is important! Get your ass out here!”

This time her giggle was accompanied by a resumption of the headboard rattle.

I lost my temper. Throwing open the door, I marched into the room. Vince was stretched out on the bed and Gail was riding him, cowgirl-style. Both were naked and the room stank of vigorous sex, but I ignored all that. Well, as best I could, anyway — it wasn’t possible not to notice the way her little tits were bouncing up and down like two tennis balls, or the taut stretch of her thighs straddling his dark hips, or the sheen of sweat all over her slender body. But did my best. I walked over, grabbed Gail’s long hair right at the base of her scalp, and hauled her unceremoniously off her boyfriend. I caught a glimpse of his cock when I did it, all slick and bobbing, but that wasn’t important right then. Gail yowled in protest as I dragged her out into the living room.

“Where’s my car?” I repeated as I let go of her and spun her to face me.

Gail stuck her bottom lip out, wrinkled her nose mutinously, and then suddenly grinned a slow dirty grin. “Not telling.”

Crap. I ran my hand over my face. “Gail, this isn’t the time for games. Tell me where it is.”

“Make me.”

Oh great. She’d decided to play the brat. We’d been doing this for years. We’d grown up close, living in the same Warwickshire village and playing together and often sharing a room overnight. Very early on, Gail had discovered she liked to have her bottom spanked and, to be honest, I didn’t mind obliging. I have powerful memories of her — back in the day when her hair was honey-brown and wavy, not blonde and straight — bending over in a corner of a remote field beneath the shelter of the willows, pulling up her skirt and displaying her teenaged bottom to me in the dappled light. Go on Tansy, she’d whisper: Spank me. Please! . . . . I just need it! I remember the sense of transgression, one that always brought a hot gush to my pussy, as I slapped her firm little ass. It had been our secret game. And yes, we still played at it sometimes, usually when Gail was between boyfriends.

She liked to initiate a session by acting the naughty girl. Something about rebellion and punishment clearly tripped her switches.

“I don’t need this now! It’s serious!”

“Make me,” she repeated, eyes narrowing.

“Fine,” I growled.

Seizing her hair again, I dropped her over one arm of the sofa with her ass in the air. For such a slim girl, she’s got a nice round bottom. Planting my knee in a cushion, I pushed one hand down between her shoulder blades and aimed the other at that pretty target. Hard. Damn it, I usually make it a rule never to do this when I’m genuinely worked up about anything, but this time I was in a real fix. Gail squealed and kicked with her legs as I landed smack after smack on her ass-cheeks and thighs, but she was off-balance and couldn’t get any purchase on the carpet. She rubbed her face in the seat cushions and clawed at the fabric and shrieked.

“Tell me!” I commanded grimly.

“Oww!” she howled, thrashing her thighs apart and giving me a distracting flash of her open pussy lips, pink and glistening from sex. She usually likes me to spank her pussy too, though rather more gently. But I wasn’t playing nice today. I clapped my tingling hand down on her left cheek with almost the full weight of my arm, seeing the flesh jounce and hearing her scream.

“Jeez,” said Vince: ‘Should you really be doing that?”

I looked up at him standing in the bedroom door, half-distracted from my mission. He was holding his jeans in front of his crotch to defend his modesty, but I could see the rest of his long, lean, mahogany-hued body all the way from his toes to the shaved fuzz of hair on top of his head. His brows were knitted in a frown, but his jaw was slack with surprise.

It must have been quite a sight from his standpoint, I guess. Tall redhead flatmate; little blonde girlfriend. Her legs were open and her ass was already scarlet, and her glistening snatch was pointed straight at him.

“Where’s my car?” I demanded. When no one answered me, I shifted my hand and evened up the score on Gail’s right cheek.


“Where’s my car?”

Vince’s mouth worked. “It’s . . .” he mumbled, but ground to a halt. His eyes were wide, his gaze fixed on Gail’s suffering rear.

I shook my head at their obstinacy. Smack. Smack. Smack. Swift and fierce, not giving her time to recover.

“Nooo!” she wailed.

I lifted my palm again, but held it aloft. “Where’s my car?” The noise of my hand falling was like a shot going off.

“AH! It got clamped!”

I let go of her. “What?”

“It got clamped and towed,” she sobbed. “We went out for pizza and when we got back they were taking it away on a truck.”

I felt like hitting her again but I didn’t. Never in real anger.

“You stupid -” I started to protest, but cut myself off. I had to stand up and pace around the room to vent my frustration. “You parked it on a double yellow line again?

“Only for a few minutes!” Gail lifted herself on her elbows but made no attempt to rise from the spanking position. Maybe she was too sore to sit up. I don’t know about her ass, but my hand was red hot and stinging.

“Where?” I demanded. “Where’s it gone?”

“Here,” said Vince: “We have the ticket here.”

I shot him a hard look. So he’d known. He’d known enough to stop the pain, all along. He sort of sidled around us, his gaze sliding back and forth from Gail to me, until he reached the sideboard and found a piece of paper, all without turning to show me his bare butt. I suspected that under his crumpled jeans he was nursing an almighty hard-on. In fact, as he handed the ticket to me, I saw him squeeze his crotch through the denim. He and Gail were going to have to have some things to talk over real soon, I suspected. And probably more than talk.

You can still buy Named and Shamed (if you hurry, before Sweetmeats Press closes) at:

Friday, 9 June 2017

Night of the living dead

I stayed up all night until 5am to track the UK General Election. I feel like death right now, mind!

What it is to live in Interesting Times... and with the hung parliament we've come up with, it doesn't look like anything's going to settle down peacefully anytime soon.

Fingers crossed.

Wednesday, 7 June 2017

Can't see the wood for the trees

We've been having fun in my wood today

... filming

... for a super-special project

... and I had very important roles!

... I was both "Crew Hiding Behind a Tree and Pulling on the End of the Rope"

... and "Crew Standing Ready with a Blanket".

I want a Technical Oscar for this, damnit!

More details to follow, in due course :-)

Monday, 5 June 2017

Blue Monday: Saskia Walker guests

Every Monday I post a naughty excerpt for your entertainment!

Today's guest is Saskia Walker, with a teaser from her wicked new stepbrother novel, Rex:

Rex Carruthers can have any woman he wants, but he wants only one -- his stepsister, Carmen Shelby. Their desire was once forbidden, and Rex walked away from his heritage as a result. Now, the reading of a will brings them back together, and Rex has something Carmen wants – his birthright, the stately home, Burlington Manor.

Carmen Shelby is haunted by her desire for her stepbrother, Rex -- a dangerous, masterful player, the man who broke her heart. Then Rex makes an outrageous suggestion -- he will give her the Burlington Manor Estate, in exchange for the affair they were denied.

Carmen risks her fragile heart and explore a new, submissive sexuality with Rex, a natural Dom. But while they thrash out their mutual passions, Carmen and Rex discover family secrets threaten and surround them. Carmen learns Rex is her true Master, but can he control the powerful forces that both drew them together – and threaten to tear them apart?

Her attitude triggered something dark in Rex. Something that demanded to be fed. “Crawl,” he commanded.

Carmen’s head dropped back as if she’d been physically slapped.

The urge to push her some more roared in on him, taking charge. He strode to the chair where his clothes lay abandoned from the night before.

Swiping up his jeans, he fished into the pocket. He tossed the key chain out across the floor, holding on to the end of the long chain. “Get down on your hands and knees and crawl over here for it.”

When the key landed on the Persian rug, she stared down at it.

Rex jerked on the chain.

The key flipped over on the floor between them, like bait. Like a lure.

“Show me what you want, what you came here for,” he said.

Carmen shook her head.

“I want to know exactly what you wanted when you stepped through the door. The truth.”

She stared up at him. “I can’t do this.”

“You can, because you want the Manor, and you agreed to do whatever I said to get it.” Would she use the safeword? Would this push her humiliation trigger just that bit too far? He didn’t care, as long as it got the truth out of her. He had to know. “Why are you here? What did you want? Just the property?”

“Yes.” She dropped onto her hands and knees. Her voice was weak, forced. “It’s a fair exchange, that’s what you said.”

The light outlined her body, drawing his eye to her curves.

She moved suddenly, jerking forward and crawling toward the key, but she was in turmoil. He could sense it. He could see it.

The sight of her that way made him painfully hard and yet his sense of frustration only grew. He wanted to understand this woman more than anything in the world.

When she got to it, her hand wrapped around the key, but she stayed there, shifting uneasily. The light from the window fell across her naked form, delineating the arch of her waist and the curve of her hip. Her soft skin glowed in the morning light. In contrast, her face was shadowed by her hair as it fell forward, and she looked up at him like a wild creature, her eyes blazing.

“Tell me why,” he demanded, and he held tight to his end of the key chain.

Her body rippled, her back arching. Her head swung to one side. She whimpered. Taking a deep breath she moved again, gathering the chain up in her hand as she went.

“Just the house?” he asked. “That’s all you wanted? You were that mercenary?”

She froze, then sat back on her heels. Her breathing was labored. She was battling inner demons.
He pressed her further. “Why is this so hard for you to talk about?”

“Because I’m scared.” She stared up at him, and her eyes looked wild.

Rex swallowed. “Why are you scared?”

Her eyes flashed shut. “Because I wanted you.” Her voice was scarcely above a whisper “I didn’t realize how much, at first, but I came here because I’ve always wanted you.”

Rex's chest felt tight and restricted.

He let go of the key chain, throwing it down on the floor, and clicked his fingers. “Then come to my side.”

She moved fast, kneeling at his feet, her arms wrapping around his thighs. The key and its chain lay abandoned on the floor. Rex stared down at it, assuring himself of what had occurred.

She clung to him, and he felt damp tears against his skin. “Please don’t tease me about it.”

Rex let his head drop back, relief barreling through him.

Grateful, and empowered, he stroked her head possessively, admitting to himself that a month would never be enough.

Never enough.

Buy Rex at
Amazon US :: Amazon UK

Saskia Walker is a British author of erotic romance, an award winning writer and a USA Today
bestseller. Saskia's short stories and novellas have appeared in over one hundred international anthologies including BEST WOMEN'S EROTICA, THE MAMMOTH BOOK OF BEST NEW EROTICA, SECRETS, and WICKED WORDS. Her erotica has also been featured in several international magazines including COSMO, PENTHOUSE, BUST, and SCARLET.

After writing shorts for several years Saskia moved into novel-length projects. Her erotic single titles include ALONG FOR THE RIDE, THE HARLOT, RECKLESS, and INESCAPABLE. Fascinated with seduction, Saskia loves to explore how and why we get from saying "hello" to sharing our most intimate selves in moments of extreme passion. Her novels DOUBLE DARE and RAMPANT both won Passionate Plume awards and her writing has twice been nominated for a RT Book Reviews Reviewers' Choice Award. She has lots more stories in the pipeline! Saskia lives in the north of England, close to the beautiful Yorkshire moors, with her partner, Mark, and a houseful of felines.

Saskia's Website

Sunday, 4 June 2017

Big guns!

I've been neglecting my blog in order to enhance my military training and Prepare for the Apocalypse:

What I have discovered is that, come the collapse of civilization, the one thing we will be in most need of is elbow-and kneepads. Because after an hour ... OW, OW, OW!

Also indigestion tablets ... 😏
Maybe I'm just too old for the Apocalypse.