Knowing the Ropes comes out on February 26 and I’m as excited…as excited as my heroine Selene is in the naughty excerpt below! Not in the same way, mind you. Publication is always a rush, no matter how many books one has out, but it’s not the same same thrill as a first-time scene with a new lover.
Suddenly, Nick, springing like the cat she’d envisioned, was on her. His big hand grasped her jaw and throat, gently but with unmistakable authority. No pressure, no physical danger, but a definite sense of menace, of claiming. “Something funny?” he growled. The dark gravel in his voice worked with the hand on her throat, freezing her in place. She shook her head, barely able to move even that much. She couldn’t think, could barely breathe from sheer sexual tension, but oh God, she might just come. He wouldn’t hurt her, but it was like a roller coaster or a monster movie where you got scared at something that wasn’t actually dangerous and enjoyed the hell out of the adrenaline rush.
“Very good. Stay right there. Don’t move.” Nick stepped away, leaving her bereft as soon as he opened a side door and disappeared from view. He returned quickly, set something she couldn’t see just beyond the open archway and returned, holding two hands of rope. “Hold your hands out in front of you.”
When he wrapped the rope around her left wrist, Selene’s heart started beating so fast she thought she might crack a rib. It was natural-colored and looked like a thicker version of the twine her grandmother used to trellis peas, but it felt surprisingly soft against her skin. She closed her eyes, wanting to focus on the sensations of Nick touching her, of the rope moving against her skin. He made a snug band around her wrist, then repeated it on the other side. When she opened her eyes, Nick stood before her, holding the ropes that connected to her wrists. He tugged on the ropes. “Follow me.”
He led her to the wide, open doorway that led into the kitchen. It was perhaps a dozen steps, but with the ropes holding her, with Nick leading her, it felt both instant and endless.
There were rings set in the wooden doorframe, spray-painted to match the dark green trim. One set was at roughly shoulder height, another single one above her head. Selene gulped. So much for her first impressions. This was definitely a den of iniquity—just a subtle one.
Using the rope ends, Nick secured her wrists to the rings at her sides. There was a bit of play in the ropes; she’d be able to shift around, change position a little. Still, she wasn’t going far, and knowing that was a delicious feeling. “Next time we’ll try something more elaborate,” he whispered, “but I wanted you to experience the feel of hemp rope. Feel the safety of bondage when I flog you for the first time.”
She shuddered violently at the word flog. It evoked vicious images of the British navy circa Master and Commander, a title that seemed much sexier when she was bound in a doorframe waiting to see what evil things Nick might do. But he was right about the safety of bondage. She felt…embraced, as if Nick’s hands and not pieces of rope were holding her in place. Delightful.
Nick leaned in and whispered in her ear, his voice a sinful caress, “Are you ready?”
All she could do was nod.
“Stick out your ass.” Wordlessly, breathing shallowly in little gasps, she obeyed. Nick ran his hand over the curve of her butt. “Beautiful. You have the perfect ass for spanking, round and heart-shaped and just the right combination of firm and soft. The kind of ass that makes a man like me think evil thoughts.” He demonstrated by grabbing one of her cheeks hard. It should have been uncomfortable, would have been under other circumstances, but instead it made her gasp and clench. “Very nice.” He lightly smacked the area he’d just grabbed, then struck the other cheek. Back and forth a few times, light and only mildly stingy, but making her feel warm, swollen, pink. Selene moaned and thrust her butt out more, hoping he’d take the hint and pick up the pace. “Oh, you’re a natural at this. But spread your legs more. I want to see the juices dripping down your thighs.”
As she obeyed, Selene’s face flamed, abashed that he’d see she was already soaked, her thighs already slick. Then she had a revelation. She was embarrassed because she thought she should be and because she’d had the bad luck to date a couple of guys who were intimidated by how sexual she could be. But Nick wasn’t intimidated. Nick craved her desire, wanted to see its evidence on her skin.
That knowledge aroused her even more.
Realizing this didn’t make her face feel less heated, but it was more a flush than a blush now, pure sexual excitement.
“Ready?” Nick asked again, but before she could answer, his hand struck hard.
Selene squealed and jumped in place. It hurt. That was her first reaction. It stung and burned, and instinct told her to pull away. But he stroked the skin he’d just smacked, and the throbbing discomfort shifted to a throbbing pleasure. “More, please,” she said before she could help herself—not that she wanted to help herself.
“Of course. But don’t you dare come until I tell you to.”
Come? Selene wanted to chuckle. Spanking might be a huge turn-on, but there was no way she could come without more direct stimulation. She was safe, although she had to admit the order not to come was exciting in itself.
That thought fled after a few more blows, a few more caresses, and instead she found herself wondering how she was going to manage to hold off coming until she got permission. She tried to count at first, but somewhere around twenty, her brain turned off its ability to do anything that rational and linear. Her ass felt huge, hot and swollen—but not as hot and swollen as her cunt. She throbbed all over, between the sweet, decadent ache in her pussy and the tender ache in her abused butt. Her head swam. She didn’t want to beg. She really didn’t. It was such a cliché, and she’d sound stupid, and…
And if she didn’t get permission to come, she was going to do it anyway. The combination of pleasure and pain was driving her mad. “Please,” she whispered, her voice doing that Marilyn Monroe thing again. “Please, may I come?”