by Q. Zayne
He pushed my knees apart and notched his cock in my pussy. Oh.
One sudden pussy-jarring thrust and he hit my womb. Damn, he was big. I moaned. It was my favorite way to be taken, with pure macho brute force.
He didn’t hold back. He slam-fucked me. I trembled under his cock, my thighs wide and shuddering, heavy breasts shaking with each thrust, my head and arms flopping from the sheer power of his drive.
He jack hammered me. I screamed when he hit me hard, bottoming out as hard as he could, making me double up on him, aching from his punching strokes.
I needed it. I needed that big, stretching cock punching me like a fist of punishment right in the womb. I cramped inside as he gave me his all. He yanked his cock out, making me empty and sorrowful, then punched in, his muscular force ramming my opening wide and filling me with sadistic power.
Damn. Damn. I’d never been fucked by such a masterful sadist and I’d always needed to be. Damn. Oh.
His jackhammer strokes yanked at my clit. He changed his angle, riding high on my belly to grind my clit, making me helpless.
He squeezed my breasts, milking them, pinching my hard nipples, taking the pain to the edge.
He bared his teeth and nipped at me, gave me love bites all over my breasts and throat, homing in, sucking and biting right on my jugular like the vampire of my dreams determined to make me his.
His thumb finessed my clit, showing me no mercy as he force-fucked me to orgasm.
My entire body tight as a bow, I gushed, unable to hold the jetting fluid rising from my cunt like a geyser.
My master held me close, pressing me to his powerful chest, the silver curls in his fur, his man tits. His heavy cock stayed in me, softening as my body went slack and collapsed under him.
Aftershocks ran through me. He was inside me while he came. I felt so happy.
He kissed my forehead, my cheek, my lips. He pressed his lips to me in firm, passionate kisses, claiming what was his.
He was the perfect fantasy lover.
Too bad none of it was real. I didn’t even know his name. He caught my tears with his thumb and licked them off.
“We will explore again, Cleo, if you desire for that to be so.”
“Oh yes, yes I do.” I sounded eager as a bride.
He lifted me and shifted me to a dry spot on the bed, out of my puddle of gush. He nabbed a towel out of the nightstand and helped sop up my overrunning pussy.
I felt so cared for, so favored.
“If you want to see me again, you’ll have to ask.”
I wanted to see him again.
“Yes, I want to see you again, please.”
“My name is Marcus.” He whispered it into my ear. “Here’s my card, and anyone on the staff can reach me.” He slipped a card into my hand. It felt warm from his body. “It matters that you came here, Cleopatra.”
I clutched it. I’d get to see him again.
He pulled the sheet over me and tucked me in.
“Sleep if you like. No one will disturb you, not even the cat. You’re safe here, Cleo.”
“Thank you, Master.”
“Sweet dreams.” He kissed my brow and smoothed my hair.
His steps retreated across the room. A click, and the door opened. His body filled the doorway. He shut the door and was gone.
I curled up alone in the dark. I found his scent on the pillow, inhaled, and surrendered to the night.
Watch for Seduced, the next episode of Submission Island.
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Q.
Brief Preview: Seduced ~ Submission Island #2
Dear reader,
I enjoy previews in books. If you don’t, skip this. :) It begins with the first word of the next episode, so there are no spoilers.
Starting my day in a luxurious, Colonial suite of rooms gave me an indescribable rush. I stretched on sumptuous Egyptian cotton sheets. I curled my toes in the soft fabric, smiling so much I didn’t recognize the feel of my face. I rose from the lovely canopied bed, the sort of bed for a fairytale princess I longed for early on and never got. The cool tile greeted my bare feet.
I padded into the bathroom. It had been renovated to provide every convenience, from a sunflower-sized massaging shower head to a bidet. I took my time under the throbbing water, letting it relax my shoulders and ease my hips, sore from so many things. Sensuous rushes went through me. I felt as though a phantom of Marcus’ cock pushed into me, renewing the tenderness inside from his masterful thrusts. I needed him again. I touched myself, longing for his touch.
I patted dry with the most sumptuous, thirsty towels I ever felt. Fragrant lotion, some light fragrance of an unknown tropical flower that seemed a bare hint away from sex, completed my toilette.
Even though the effect never lasted in the humidity, I took time with brushing and arranging my hair, piling it up loosely for a sexy, mussed look and keeping it from sticking to my neck. I slathered on sunscreen and spayed myself with bug repellent. Not sexy, but essential. At least I found an environmentally-friendly one that smelled alright.
I put on one of my light linen dresses and jeweled high-heeled sandals. There. Dangling malachite earrings set off my eyes. I was ready for my next adventure on Submission Island.
From the top of the stairs, the rest of the manor seemed deserted. Not a sound of anyone. The glare of the brilliant sun came through the windows, but inside, the high-ceilinged, thick-walled manor remained deliciously cool. Feeling every bit the princess, I descended the ornate marble staircase.
The dining room was empty, but there was a place set at the table. Steaming serving containers with lids sat on the buffet on low heat.
I peeked in each, and selected fluffy scrambled eggs and crispy potatoes. I plucked a tropical fruit salad from a bed of ice and took my booty the the table. Delicious mango and pineapple, more flavorful than any I’d had in the states, enlivened my tongue. I wanted this dream to last.
I ate every bite.
The smell of coffee called me to another sideboard. I poured a cup of delicious strong brew and took it out on the veranda. From there, I spied a familiar figure sitting at a wrought iron table, busy with a tablet. Was there a network only staff was allowed to use? Or only for communication on the island? I hurried down, hoping to get a look at what he was doing from behind.
As I approached, he slid the tablet into his shirt, like a slight of hand trick.
I changed tack and angled to approach him from the side, acting nonchalant, as though I hadn’t been bent on spying.
“Good morning, Chuck.”
“Good morning. Did you have a good rest?”
“Wonderful. Between the great food and comfortable room, I’m spoiled already.”
“That’s great. I’m glad you’re enjoying it here.” He glanced around, as though checking we were alone.
Something seemed odd, but I had no idea what. My usual blunt personality asserted itself.
“What’s wrong?”
“Oh, nothing. Nothing’s wrong. Just checking for Isabella. She often takes a walk at this time.”
His guarded expression gave me a sense I’d caught him at something, and he wished I hadn’t. Perhaps he felt self-conscious about the extent to which he had to anticipate and serve the mistress of the island.
I glanced around, but saw no one.
“Oh. Yes, it’s wonderful in the morning before the heat ratchets up.” Was it his activity on the tablet, or the possible presence of someone else he wanted to deflect me from discovering? Or had I read too much Agatha Christie as a girl, and this luxury vacation slotted my imagination into overdrive? The dame of mystery would have loved this island. What an exquisite setting for a murder.
“Yes, and at night. The stars shine so bright here.” His smile a
ppeared guileless, kind and inviting.
He rose, and I fell into step with him. To my relief, we kept to a broad, level garden path. I wasn’t prepared for anything more strenuous and would have hated to damage my shoes. The orchids dazzled me.
“The orchids grow wild here.” He pointed out subtle ones in the trees and on the ground. “We have cultivated varieties, too.”
In a sheltered clearing, he led me into a hot house.
Even as an untrained observer, I could tell the orchids were spectacular, of prize-winning caliber.
“These are stunning.” There were orchids like spiders, orchids like pussies.
“Alphonse created them. He was a master.”
“They’re exquisite.” I walked the neat aisles, admiring each tended plant.
My heart ached for Isabella’s loss. Yet how wonderful she kept the things he loved alive and surrounding her, this entire place a labor of love she shared with others. I felt humbled to be one of the select few. And it seemed far too few. I had yet to see a single other guest. Were they taking discretion to the max, or was there perhaps a wild orgy room for those who indicated a desire for more interaction? Had my choice for one-on-one completely cut me off from the possibility of catching sight of other people on the island?
Adjusting my hair as a cover, I cast a glance around as we exited the greenhouse. I was keenly curious about the people who came here. They must all be insanely wealthy. Knowing that made me feel inadequate, yet entranced. I wanted glimpses into that secret world of the filthy rich. I wanted to see them getting dirty.
Chattering made me jump. Chuck took my arm and pointed into the trees. A band of monkeys swung through overhead.
I clapped my hand to my mouth, delighted. Their adorable old man faces, big eyes, and long curling tails enchanted me. I felt overcome, unworthy of this amazing paradise. It was as though some powerful being plucked me out of my horrible mundane life and set me into a fairy tale. As with Cinderella’s, it came with a time limit.
With a stab to the heart, I realized it would be over in days. The island would continue with its secrets, treasure and intimate sex games, and I’d—be flying back to hell. Only it would be worse, because I’d know there was a better life, one without brain-abrading boredom and constant contact with yammering cretins.
I shrank inside, dreading that this dream would come to an end. I’d never be the same. I’d never forget this, and how could I do anything but hate the life I had to return to? I took a deep breath and dug my nails into my palms.
Chuck slowed, allowing me to collect myself. For a stranger, and a man, he seemed remarkably in tune. Perhaps serving a woman as powerful as Isabella made him that way. Or perhaps he could do this job because he was sensitive and intuitive already. Those weren’t terms I generally used for men.
We emerged into a clearing in the jungle. A small yet imposing pyramid rose above a circle of paving stones that radiated out for several feet. It was stepped, like ancient Maya pyramids, but appeared to be a few years old at most.
Preview: Dad's Friend: Taboo Shifter Love
Dear Reader,
As an independent author, providing samples is one of the few inexpensive and effective tools I have to sell my books. This is the beginning of my new erotic romance novella. It starts at the first sentence and is a complete scene, so it doesn’t spoil the book.
The night sounds dropped away. Nothing stirred in the jungle beyond the camp. A large presence brushed by the tent.
My nerves drew tight. My hands shook as I unzipped the sleeping bag and crawled to the door. I had to know what was out there. I pulled back the tent flap. A great cat padded though the camp between my tent and the smoldering fire ring.
It was magnificent, moving like night with sleek muscles and large feet. The patterns of its coat looked as mystical as the Mayan glyphs we deciphered. I could tell it was a jaguar because of the deep black spots in the center of each rosette. Its tawny coat glowed like the gold that lured so many men to their deaths. Such a fitting figure for the sun god’s underworld aspect.
The cat swished its tail, scenting the night, ears back. It reminded me of Roth, its lithe movements, sleek muscles, its wariness and deadly power. Its mystery. The proud way it held its head.
At first, I wasn’t afraid. It turned its head, stared right at me. Not it, he. That big cat was all male. I understood being paralyzed by fear. I couldn’t move.
He seemed to lock me in his sight for many heartbeats. The world could end in the Maya apocalypse in the time the big cat assessed me. Somewhere stars died and worlds birthed while the huge cat decided whether I might be good to eat. Was that what he was thinking? Or was he just curious? Was I encroaching on the jaguar’s territory?
I wished I knew how to explain I meant no harm. Something came back to me. I read that closing your eyes signaled to a cat, I love you. It was scary to close my eyes with the jaguar so close, but it was worth a try.
I closed my eyes, kept them closed. I tried it again, keeping my breathing steady. The urge to run or scream surged through me. Okay, one more time. I closed my eyes a third time, kept them closed as long as I could stand. I opened them. The jaguar closed his eyes. Yes. I closed my eyes again.
He swished his big tail and bounded into the jungle.
Did that just happen? Did I tell the jaguar, I love you, and he said, I love you, too?
My heart pounded. I slipped into my sandals, tugged my T-shirt down to cover my panties, and ran to Roth’s tent. He wasn’t there. I yanked his sleeping bag off his air mattress and threw it down. I had to find him.
I went back out, standing close to his tent for an illusion of safety.
Roth approached from the jungle, fastening his pants.
“Hey, are you okay?”
“A jaguar. He looked right at me.” I launched myself into his arms.
I wasn’t afraid of Roth anymore. I wanted him to hold me.
He pulled me close. He petted my hair. I felt his warm breath on my scalp, his lips against my temple. I shook so hard my teeth chattered. He picked me up and carried me into his tent.
He put me down on his air bed, just like in my fantasies.
“There, it’s alright now.” He tucked his sleeping bag around me.
Damn it, I didn’t want a male nurse, I wanted Roth. My dad’s best friend. Our family friend. A man I shouldn’t want. I burned for him.
“Hold me,” I whispered.
He hesitated, storm clouds crossing his face. It seemed to hit him that he had his best friend’s daughter in his bed, our bodies separated by only our thin, tropical clothes and his sleeping bag.
“You know, Sport, I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”
“Please?” I held out my arms.
He slid close, a man approaching a venomous snake.
I grabbed him before he could change his mind.
He held me. His placed his hands on me with care, outside the sleeping bag, on my upper back. I slid my hands down his back, held the hard muscles where his hips turned to fine ass.
“I’ve wanted you to hold me for a long time, Dirty Knight.” Oh hell. I bit my lip, hoping he hadn’t heard.
“Dirty Knight? Did you just call me Dirty Knight?” He ruffled my hair. “I’ve been called a lot of things, but that’s something new. I’m flattered, I think.” He chuckled.
I blushed all the way to my breasts. Wow, I sure knew how to ruin a mood. Maybe if I kept my mouth shut, he’d remember I was a woman.
“Listen, I won’t think any less of you if you’re ready to go home. Anyone would be scared after two close calls with a jaguar. Many of my most trusted workers bailed on me.” His frustration came through his voice. His work was everything to him.
“I’m not too scared, Roth. I want to stay and help you with the inscription.”
“For now, okay. Just remember, you can leave here anytime you want. Zach will pick you up and take you to the airport. All you have to do is give the word. I’ll understand.”<
br />
“What can I do to prove to you I belong here?”
“Find it for me. Find the key to deciphering the rest of the inscription.” His words came out ragged with longing. “Then, we’ll see.”
I nodded. That was it then. That was my role for him, to help with the inscription. I was being an idiot to think anything would happen between us. I’d never be able to compete with newly discovered Mayan glyphs.
“Stay here, Sport. Get some sleep. I’ll stay on guard until dawn.” He slipped off the bed without touching me. I’d have to become as sexy as an ancient artifact to get his attention.
He left the tent. The flap dropped shut behind his retreating back. I wanted to call him back, but I had some pride.
The shot woke me. I made it to the door before I knew what was happening.
Men’s voices rose. I made out someone saying he shot the jaguar because it came too close to the site.
Fear gripped me. I feared for the cat. I wasn’t afraid of him. I was afraid for him.
I got my shoes on and went out to look. Entering the jungle in the night, in total darkness, with the few remaining men on the other side of the camp too far away to help, that was the toughest moment.
What the hell was I doing? What was I going to do, call ‘here, kitty, kitty?’ He was a wild animal. What if he attacked me? But I had to find him. He was injured and it was our fault. We were in his territory. He shouldn’t have to suffer for our encroachment. Damn it, where was Roth? There was no time to look for him. I had to find the jaguar. I had no idea what I’d do when I found him, but I had to try to help.
I did my best to walk a straight line, and checked often to make sure I could glimpse the camp’s fire. If I got lost out here, I was screwed.
The creepiness of walking deeper into the jungle, unable to see if the vines ahead were snakes or if there was a huge spider about to drop on me or a hungry mammal about to take me down wore at my nerves. I forced myself on against every urge to turn back.
