by Tawny Taylor
She rocked her head to the side, her lips curling slowly. A smile. She was smiling. She was alive and smiling and ohthankthegods! She was his. And he could be hers.
“Keri, do you hurt anywhere?” Frantically, he ran his hands over her body, feeling for signs of injury. The wound in her back seemed to have healed instantly.
“No. I don’t think so.” She let him help her sit up, lifting her slightly glassy-eyed gaze to his. “I’m kind of dizzy. Feel funny.”
“Here. Let’s get you up on the bed.” Without hesitating, he scooped her into his arms and carried her to the bed, lowering her gently onto the mattress. Once she was settled, he stood over her, his gaze sweeping up and down her body, watching, waiting. Was she okay? Could it be? “Do you hurt anywhere?”
She grimaced, set her hand on her nape. “Well, no. I don’t hurt. But my head’s fuzzy, and I had the strangest dream. It’s a bit hazy, but I remember there were a bunch of guys wearing funny clothes and talking strangely. They all had an insignia on their chests. It looked like…”
Listening, he pulled the bloody shirt off her and bent to pick up the blanket. “Go ahead.”
“Your tattoo?”
“What?” He straightened up, dropping the blanket. “The insignia looked like my tattoo?” Was it any coincidence that she was describing his gods? Not a chance.
“It’s gone.”
“What?”
“Your tattoo.”
“It is?” He turned his head as far as he could, tried to get a glance of his back. When he couldn’t, he quickly covered her with the blanket then hurried into the bathroom to take a look in the mirror. If the tattoo was a mark, given by the gods when he was cursed, did that mean it would vanish when the curse was lifted?
It seemed it had. There could be no other explanation.
“Talen?” she called, staggering toward him, looking as happy as he felt. “I remember now. What they said.” She threw herself into his arms, tipping her head to look up at him. “They said…”
“I’m free!” He kissed her, sobs of raw joy and love tearing from his chest. “Free.” He kissed her again. “Freefreefree!” And again and again and again. He leaned back, his fingertip tracing the spot where there had once been a gruesome wound. “You did this for me. I know it.”
After about the hundredth kiss, Keri pulled back, smiling. “You aren’t going to die?”
“No, Keri. I will.” When she frowned and her eyes filled with anguish, he explained, “Just like you will die. I’m mortal. My life will end. Some day. But if the gods are as merciful as they’ve been this day, I won’t die today or tomorrow or next week. Next month. Or next year.”
“Ohthankgod.” A fat tear fell onto her cheek.
Gently, he wiped it away with his thumb. “I’ll spend the rest of my life thanking the gods for their blessing. And you, for your sacrifice.”
Surprising him, Keri slipped from his grasp, sinking to her knees. She lifted her arms. “Thanks to you, heavenly lords, for your blessing. We will live exactly as you have commanded.”
“As they commanded? What does that mean?” Talen gently helped her to her feet.
Her smile hinted at a secret. “Don’t you worry about that. Just know from this point forward, I am going to make sure every day is filled with love and life and hope. Just as you’ve done for me.”
This time it was his turn to drop to his knees. He took Keri’s hand in his, stroked the back with his thumb. She was his. For the rest of his days. His to love, cherish, adore. “And I vow to fulfill every promise I made earlier. You will surrender to me. Every night. And you will feel like the most powerful, satisfied and thoroughly loved woman on the planet. We have both been reborn. I have been delivered from my curse and you…”
“From fear,” Keri finished for him. She kneeled before him and placed her hand on his heart. “I won’t ever be afraid. Not with you by my side. My master. My lover. My soulmate. My phoenix.”
About the Author
Nothing exciting happens in Tawny Taylor’s life, unless you count giving the cat a flea dip—a cat can make some fascinating sounds when immersed chin-deep in insecticide—or chasing after a houseful of upchucking kids during flu season. She doesn’t travel the world or employ a staff of personal servants. She’s not even built like a runway model. She’s just your run-of-the-mill, pleasantly plump Detroit suburban mom and wife.
That’s why she writes, for the sheer joy of it. She doesn’t need to escape, mind you. Despite being run-of-the-mill, her life is wonderful. She just likes to add some…zip.
Her heroines might resemble herself, or her next-door neighbor (sorry Sue), but they are sure to be memorable (she hopes!). And her heroes—inspired by movie stars, her favorite television actors or her husband—are fully capable of delivering one hot happily-ever-after after another. Combined, the characters and plots she weaves bring countless hours of enjoyment to Tawny…and she hopes to readers too!
In the end, that’s all the matters to Tawny, bringing a little bit of zip to someone else’s life.
To learn more about Tawny Taylor please visit www.tawnytaylor.com. Send an email to Tawny at [email protected].
Look for these titles by Tawny Taylor
Now Available:
Dirty Little Lies
Behind the Mask
Prince of Fire
Three nights of uninhibited kink—and you’re invited.
Behind the Mask
© 2008 Tawny Taylor
Kelly Bennett is about to embark on a journey into a strange and foreign world, where men and women play erotic games of power and lust, hiding behind masks. A dark world of bondage, of domination and submission, of masters and slaves. The world of Masquerade Weekend.
But her journey is not a solitary one. She’s found a willing guide in Rogan Cayne, a man who knows his way around. A man with the strength to keep her safe as she indulges in some experimentation, and maybe a game or two of cat and mouse. As she lets Rogan slowly lure her with a touch, a look, and a few whispered words, she suddenly finds she’s a mouse with one very fierce cat on her tail.
Rogan isn’t about to let Kelly play it safe during this weekend of decadent, carnal exploration. In fact, before the weekend draws to a close, he intends to strip away her every defense and bring the luscious little submissive to her knees.
But is he willing to pay the price to discover what lies beneath her mask?
Warning, this title contains the following: explicit sex, graphic language, mild bondage and discipline, exhibitionism, BDSM themes, and a couple of naughty games.
Enjoy the following excerpt for Behind the Mask:
“Come with me.” He released her, and she nearly stumbled to the floor.
She blinked her eyes open and turning, searched for him. He was standing at the rear of the dungeon, waiting by the door, his mouth quirked into a lopsided smile.
He truly was the most handsome guy she’d ever met. He had this way of looking at her. Like he was hunting her, but not at all in a creepy way. No, quite the opposite, that wicked gleam in his eyes was so very sexy. And when she closed her eyes, that was what she saw. His I’m-going-to-eat-you-up expression.
He watched her as she walked toward him. It felt like every cell in her body was electrified when she brushed past him, through the door. He placed a hand on the small of her back, using subtle pressure to steer her down the hall, through the foyer and up the stairs to the private rooms above. Even with the thick material of her gown and corset between her back and his hand, her skin tingled where he touched her.
He stopped in front of a door. “We must be respectful. Once we’re inside, you cannot speak. If you want to leave, simply squeeze my hand.” He slid his hand into hers.
“Okay.” She gave him a test squeeze and a nervous smile.
He opened the door and pulled her inside, quietly stepping aside to close the door.
Totally aware of his movements—he now stood directly behind her, so close—sh
e felt jittery and uneasy. But she didn’t move. Not a step.
Before her, a scene with two men and a woman was in progress. All three were completely nude. And all three were very attractive. She couldn’t tear her eyes away.
The woman—perfect face, and that body! I hate her—was on her knees. One of the two men was standing directly in front of her, the other behind. It didn’t take long to figure out that the man standing in front of the woman was her Master. And in the next minute, Kelly learned he was about to turn his slave over to a new Master.
Kelly couldn’t imagine what it must feel like to be turned over from one lover to another, completely powerless to voice her opinion in the matter. Was the slave sad, to be hearing her Master no longer wanted her? Or was she happy and excited, ready to move on? Was there some kind of emotional attachment she had for the man who was willingly walking out of her life?
From her vantage, Kelly couldn’t see the woman’s face. And the woman’s body language wasn’t giving anything away. Kelly watched, with her breath in her throat.
This was real. It was…shockingly real.
The former Master bid his slave goodbye. He moved aside, and the new Master took his place.
“Present, slave,” the new Master demanded.
The woman cupped her hands under her full breasts and lifted them. “Your slave presents these breasts for your inspection and approval.”
“Approved,” her Master said.
The woman’s hands dropped to the vee of her thighs, parting her shaved labia. “Your slave presents this pussy for your inspection and approval.”
Her Master glanced down at his slave, then over Kelly’s shoulder, nodding at Rogan. “It would be my pleasure to invite our host to inspect my new slave.”
What?
This was crazy. Strange and foreign. And yet Kelly felt like she was being drawn into this dark world, where women were traded like possessions, offered to other men. Could she fit in this world? Did she want to?
“Watch me,” Rogan whispered into her ear, before brushing past her. As he walked, his fingertips slid along the length of her fingers.
To her surprise, the simple touch did some not-so-simple things to her body.
He circled the slave, stooped in front of her and, his intense gaze focused on Kelly’s face, reached between the woman’s legs. Kelly’s pussy thrummed as she watched him slide his fingers into the woman’s pussy. So hot.
The way Rogan was looking at her, it was as if he was either touching her, instead of the slave, or touching the slave for her. The corners of his lips curled into a ghost of a smile, and quivering, Kelly pressed her fingertips to her mouth.
A bizarre current zapped between them, and she didn’t want the moment to end, as awkward and nerve-wracking and thrilling as it was. But much too soon, he broke the connection, stood and crossed his arms over his chest.
“I approve,” Rogan said.
“Thank you,” the Master said, nodding. “Can I offer my slave to you?”
Rogan glanced at Kelly and smiled wider. “Maybe later. Thank you.”
“It would be my pleasure.”
Rogan swept his arm toward the slave. “Please, continue.” He returned to Kelly and once again took her hand in his. She knew by doing so he was asking her if she wanted to leave, but the scene between the Master and his new slave intrigued her. She could almost imagine herself in the woman’s place, on her knees, her heart banging madly against her breastbone, her body aflame as she waited for her new Master’s next command.
The Master ordered his slave to a low bench against the wall. He secured the woman’s wrists in cuffs chained to the wooden supports affixed to the wall. The entire time the Master worked, Kelly’s focus was on the slave, her face, her eyes.
From the moment they’d stepped into this room, Kelly’s heart hadn’t stopped thumping heavily in her chest. And her face and chest felt hot, like she’d been standing too close to a tanning lamp. Adding to the whole thing, she was all too aware of Rogan behind her. He released her hand, instead sliding his hands around her sides and pulling her snug against him.
Her head was sort of spinny, her body tingly and twitchy and hot. She was very grateful for Rogan’s support—both the very literal one and the figurative one—especially when the Master dug into a large bag on the floor, produced a huge dildo and thrust it into his slave’s open pussy.
At exactly the same moment, Rogan reached between Kelly’s legs and dragged his hand along her wet slit, covered by a thin layer of sodden satin.
“Oh God,” Kelly murmured, quivering.
“Silence,” Rogan whispered. His fingers traced the top of Kelly’s thigh-high stockings. “Stay silent and still. Watch. Learn. Enjoy.”
How could she possibly stay silent when she was burning up inside? When the world around her didn’t make any sense, and she was alternating between cold shock and desperate desire?
Was this real? Any of it?
God help her, she hoped it was. She watched the Master before her repeatedly thrust that dildo into the trembling slave until she quaked and pled for mercy. At the same time, Rogan’s fingers danced over Kelly’s panties, teasing her pussy through the material. He hooked his fingers in the crotch and pulled sharply. The drenched material gave easily, tearing away. Kelly flinched and swallowed a yelp of surprise.
As he slid his fingers inside her, she leaned into him and sighed.
This was not happening. She was not letting a virtual stranger finger-fuck her while she watched a man “train” his bondage slave by driving an enormous dildo into her pussy. No, siree. Wasn’t happening.
Oh God, it was. And she liked it. She did. So much, so, in fact that she was going to come.
“Touch your pussy. Stroke your clit, my little whore,” Rogan murmured.
Desperate for release, she reached between her legs, and her fingers brushed over Rogan’s knuckles as she dragged some of her juices up to her supersensitive clit. She barely touched her pearl before it was all over.
Her knees buckled and a burst of heat blazed through her body. Her vagina tightened around Rogan’s invading fingers for a split second, until her orgasm swept through her. The pleasure. So intense. Her pussy convulsed rhythmically as the rest of her body quaked.
Rogan completely supported her weight with one arm while he used his other hand to prolong her pleasure, plunging in and out, stroking her intimately, his fingertips grazing that one special spot inside. She dropped her head back and rocked it from side to side. So hot. So, so hot. And desperate. And…more. She wanted more.
“Until tomorrow, my sweet whore,” Rogan said, slipping his hand out from between her legs. He pressed her fingertips to his lips, smiled.
And then he left her, and she was breathless and trembling. Confused and exhilarated.
What a night.
She couldn’t wait until tomorrow.
Mountain man or mountain lion? In his case-one and the same.
Rachel’s Totem
© 2008 Marie Harte
A Feral Attraction story.
When Rachel arrives in Cougar Falls for a reading of her aunt’s will, she finds herself in a typical mountain town. Except that it’s not quite…typical. It’s full of the requisite, rough-hewn mountaineers, but these men seem more animal than man.
And one of the rude strangers brings out the animal in her during an embarrassingly orgasmic-and scorching-sexual encounter in an alley. The fantastic tales that the townsfolk tell about the Ac-Taw, a clan of people who can shift into animals, are nothing but folklore. Or are they?
Burke is stunned by his response to Rachel, and even more so when she innocently shows signs of possessing Ac-Taw blood. And this puts her in more danger than she knows, danger that only increases the urgency to mark her as his own.
Rachel comes to realize she’s inherited much more than just property. She has also inherited a destiny to protect her newfound home.
For the Ac-Taw aren’t just legend-they’re rea
l.
Warning, this title contains the following: graphic language, ménage a trois, growling, and hot, steamy sex between shifters in love :)
Enjoy the following excerpt for Rachel’s Totem:
“I’m not sure.” Gerald frowned and shook his head. “I’m sorry, Rachel. Not exactly polite to discuss other matters when you’re here for Charlotte’s will.”
“No, that’s okay. I’m in no rush.”
Well I am. Burke took a seat next to Rachel across from Gerald, who sat in a huge leather chair behind his desk. Let’s find that totem and get back to the important things in life. Like how I’m going to seduce Rachel before she turns all prickly again.
“It’s just that my assistant, Julia, is always a rock, always here and helping. And something came up with her family in Washington so she had to leave yesterday—”
“Gerald, can we please get on with this?” Burke sighed.
Gerald cleared his throat and smiled apologetically. “Right, well. Before we begin, is there anything I can get you, Rachel? A glass of water, a soda, or maybe some coffee?”
Rachel shook her head. “Thanks, but Burke’s right. Since we’re here, no sense putting it off any longer. You might as well tell me what Aunt Charlotte wanted done with her things.”
“Of course.”
Nice how the SOB completely ignored Burke, who could have used something to drink. In a steady drone, Gerald read through most of the generalities of the will. All of Charlotte’s personal possessions and money, investments and the like, went to Rachel.
“And as the only relative Charlotte truly cared about since your father passed away, you’ve inherited everything she considered dear to her. Including the house.”
Shit.
“The property, however…” Gerald paused, and Burke wanted to punch him for drawing this out. “The property is divided between you and the Chastells.” Gerald turned to Burke. “You’ve been wanting to buy from Charlotte forever. Well, Burke, now’s your chance. If Rachel decides to sell, everything on the property, to include the house and the material within it, becomes yours.” The totem, he meant but didn’t say. With the totem back in the hands of protectors who both understood and respected the ancient relic, peace would surely return to Cougar Falls. No more clan wars, and no more threats of strangers having a hold on something as valuable as the totem.
