BDSM romantic erotica by Lisabet Sarai
Fireborn Publishing, January, 2015
All's fair in lust and business
Ruby Maxwell Chen, lovely and ruthless CEO of a huge British business empire, is used to getting her way. When she encounters the strangely charismatic American entrepreneur Rick Martell, though, she wonders if she hasn't finally met her match.
From the trendy clubs of London to the Hollywood Hills, Ruby and Rick compete for ownership of a strategic factory in Malaysia. Neither has any qualms about using sexual wiles to smooth the path to success. Neither anticipates that their mutual attraction will turn into something far more intense and difficult to control.
As their struggle for dominance escalates, they draw their employees and associates into their outrageous power games. The stakes could scarcely be higher, as Ruby and Rick play for the ultimate prize: a night of total physical surrender.
Excerpt (Rated R)
Bravo." A soft, melodious male voice, and then the sound of applause. "I'm extremely impressed."
I pull myself abruptly upright. Did someone dare to watch me and my medieval servitor?
I have just been finger-fucked to exhaustion, yet my first reaction is a wave of total, incomprehensible lust. Incomprehensible because the man who stands between the parted curtains is not at all my type. He is short and wiry. His hair is scraggly and a bit too long around his ears, and he has a dreadful drooping black mustache. He wears nondescript jeans and a khaki shirt.
Somehow, though, he radiates sexuality. His aura is palpable, the air thick and sticky as syrup. He fixes me with his intense, dark eyes and grins. I feel like I am melting. I want to spread my legs wider, desperately offer my swelling sex for him to use as he will.
I struggle with my impulses, close my legs decisively and try to stare him down. "I gather you were spying on me and my admirer."
"Indeed. A most entertaining and instructive tableau." He enters the balcony-space, letting the curtains close behind him, and picks up the flogger. The knotted thongs dangle an inch above my cleavage. "You seem to be quite an expert in the arts of discipline."
"Hardly," I say, taking the whip from him, trying to take control of the interaction. "I am just beginning to explore the possibilities. But," I say, my eyes narrowing to watch his reaction, "I do find myself quite sensitive to my partners' desires to yield to my power."
"I could see that. You knew what he wanted, and you gave it to him." He pauses and searches my face. "But, do you know what I want?"
Truly, I have no idea. He seems fascinated by the flogger, but I sense only a hint of submission in him, a playful curiosity totally different from the aching need of my recent conquest.
His eyes play over my body in a leisurely fashion, appreciative, it seems, but not urgent. Surreptitiously, I glance at his fly: an appealing bulk there, but no indication of arousal.
I, on the other hand, am hornier than I have been in weeks. Maybe months. Or ever. My clit throbs like a sore tooth. I lean forward so that my breasts part invitingly, and lick my painted lips.
"Tell me what you want," I purr. "I'm feeling generous tonight, and just might grant your request."
He leans toward me in answer, and grasps my chin. Strange electricity flows from his touch. My breasts ache. My cunt is on fire.
"I want you to take me home with you," he says with a cryptic smile. And then he kisses me.
I am not sentimental. I am not romantic, susceptible, easily mastered. But I swear, I could drown in this kiss.
His lips are smooth and full, his tongue demanding. He tastes of peppermint, and behind that, an aromatic trace of pipe tobacco. I smell his cologne, something clean, woodsy, Scandinavian.
I do not want to give in, and yet I do. I return his kiss, open my mouth wide to his probing. He senses my partial surrender, and presses his advantage. He has slipped his hand inside my vest, now, and is pinching my nipple hard.
I love it. I am awash with lust. I am dying for him to take me. My sex is liquid, spilling over. My scent rises in the velvet-draped space. I know that I cannot hide my desire, but still I try.
"You seem most enthusiastic," I say, my voice surprisingly steady. "But why should I allow you into my personal space?"
"Because you want to," he says, deftly extricating my breast from its leather casing and planting a kiss on its tip. "And because you think that you will have more control on your home territory. As an interloper, I will necessarily be at a disadvantage."
He's right. Many women would feel vulnerable, bringing a stranger into their home, but I'm more confident on my own turf than in some unfamiliar locale. I am astonished at his perspicacity. Who is this man? He appears so ordinary and yet there is both physical attraction, and psychological intrigue.
More than a decade ago LISABET SARAI experienced a serendipitous fusion of her love of writing and her fascination with sex. Since then she has published more than fifty single author titles, including the BDSM classic Raw Silk, and contributed dozens of short stories to ebook and print anthologies. She has also edited several acclaimed multi-author collections and is currently editor for the altruistic erotica series COMING TOGETHER PRESENTS.
Lisabet holds more degrees than anyone needs from prestigious universities who would no doubt be embarrassed by her chosen genre. She loves to travel and currently lives in Southeast Asia with her highly tolerant husband and two cosmopolitan felines. For more information on Lisabet and her writing visit Lisabet Sarai's Fantasy Factory or her blog: Beyond Romance.
Excerpt (Lesbian Rated X)
The sun bakes my skin. I can feel the rays tracing paths of heat across my shoulders, my buttocks, my calves. It is soothing, soporific. I find myself drifting, my thoughts comfortably vague, my body washed in appealing sensation. I’m half-dreaming, remembering Liu’s caresses, hearing his suggestive whispers.
A sharp floral scent teases me awake. I turn toward Luna. She lies on her side, chin propped on her hand, watching me with an intensity that sends electricity up my spine. I trace the sinuous line of her body with my eyes, admiring the way her hips flow away from her waist and then recede into the gentler curves of her thighs. Her arms and legs are fleeced with golden down that stirs slightly in the moving air. One platinum tress hangs over her shoulder and dangles between her breasts.
My chest is tight with nervousness, yet there is a dream-like inevitability about all of this. Luna lets her hand trail over her body, brushing her nipples on the way down to the cleft between her thighs and sending a bolt of lightning to my sex. Her pubic hair is so fair that her mound almost seems naked. Her coral-hued lips are clearly visible, even before she parts them with her fingers. Her gaze holds mine as her hand travels upward again, smearing her juices over her belly, pinching the swollen buds of her nipples. It is I who moan when she inserts one sticky finger into her mouth and sucks upon it.
“You're so beautiful, Margaret,” she murmurs, dipping once again into the well of honey between her legs. “I want you so much. Don’t you want me?” She holds her hand out to me, appealing, almost waif-like. Without thinking, I take her proffered fingers into my mouth.
Her taste is simultaneously strange and familiar. Pungent, salty, rich, wild, embarrassing, and forbidden. My own juices spill over in response. She sees the evidence of my excitement and smiles at my silent answer. Lightly, she gathers a droplet from my thighs and licks it off her finger. Her eyes close as she savors me, and I am reminded of some flaxen-haired medieval angel, consumed by mystic ecstasy.
Sudden, fierce lust shatters my dreamy composure. I want her, want to take her, use her, devour her. Slipping off my chaise, I kneel at her side and take her face in my hands. Then I suck her into a long, violent kiss that leaves us both breathless. With one hand I am twisting her nipple, while the other probes her drenched pussy. I’ve never done anything like this before, and yet I know what I am doing, know from touching myself how to touch her.
Luna whimpers under my assault, arches her body and tries to force my fingers deeper insider her. “Oh, yes, please, yes…”
“You like this, Luna?” She can’t answer, she’s too far gone, but I know that I am giving her what she wants. I’ve found the slippery nub of her clit. I roll it between my thumb and forefinger, kneading and twisting, pulling until her hips rise right off the chaise trying to follow. I am not gentle; she does not want gentleness.
I release her clit, giving her a moment’s respite, then press my palm against her mound and push all four fingers into her cunt. She screams and I feel the shudders gathering in her flesh. I remove my hand completely. She whimpers in frustration, then sighs as I slip my index finger back into her folds and wiggle it playfully.
Her depths are lined with slick velvet. As I explore her, she shivers and moans. “More, please! More!” I lean down and take a cherry nipple between my lips, marvelling at the nubby texture of the swollen flesh against my tongue. So sweet, so juicy, I cannot help biting down on that lush morsel. Luna yells and writhes against my hand. She grabs it by the wrist and tries to force all my fingers into her soaked cunt.
“Nasty girl,” I say, pulling away from her. Her nipples pout insolently. On a whim, I slap one breast with an open palm. My own skin stings as I watch hers redden. Her eyes are closed, her lips half-open. As an experiment, I lay stinging blow on the opposite breast. Her pelvis jerks and grinds in response.
She wants it hard, wants it rough. I see this with sudden clarity. And I want to give it to her. “Knees up,” I say brusquely, amazed at the authority in my voice. “Feet on the chaise, thighs spread wide. And don't you dare to touch yourself.” Luna hastens to obey and I know that my intuitions are correct.
The undersides of her thighs are a creamy gold. I remember Liu’s leather strap and wonder what marks it would make on that succulent flesh. I’m just looking, not touching. Luna rotates her hips obscenely, inviting me.
“Little slut,” I whisper, “be careful what you wish for.”