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Sassy, Sensual, Suspense

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Going about her mundane life in a small fishing village, Alethea never dreamed she would end up with a man like the Earl of Deanswood, yet when she caught the handsome gentleman’s eye he wasted no time in making her his wife. Unbeknownst to Alethea, however, her conniving mother has convinced Deanswood that she has no interest in the marital bed. Devastated by his seeming disinterest, Alethea searches for someone to instruct her in the ways of enticing a man.
When a friend informs Deanswood of Alethea’s plans, he decides to train his new bride himself. Soon enough, Alethea finds herself naked, blindfolded, and helplessly bound as she is thoroughly spanked and then brought to one blushing, quivering climax after another. But when Alethea’s life is threatened by her mother’s vicious scheming, can Deanswood protect his innocent bride?
Stonehurst’s eyes shone with mischief. “Your wife came to my establishment earlier. She offered me five guineas to fuck her.”
Deanswood spluttered and almost spat out his brandy. “She did what?”
Stonehurst leaned back and savored a second sip of his wine. “Do you want me to repeat it? After you’ve drawn everyone’s gaze? I didn’t take her money or screw her, of course. Let’s find somewhere to talk.”
Anger turned Deanswood’s features haughty and harsh. Fists curled, he glowered at his friend. Make that former friend. He’d rather beat Stonehurst senseless than talk. “You keep your bloody hands off her.”
All Deanswood had wanted was an heir and a spare. Instead, his wife barred him from her bed—unless a quick screw with no foreplay or kisses once a month counted. He’d rather have stayed single.
He’d dreamed of a wife with a warm smile and sweet nature. Curves that made his mouth water and his palms twitch would be a bonus. Leg-shackling himself to Alethea Allerton was the biggest mistake he’d ever made.
He should have made it clear that he expected to bear his children and submit to the occasional spanking. In return, he’d teach her about passion, bondage, and obedience. Until his mother-in-law collared him in the library, he’d been looking forward to his wedding night. His mother-in-law’s words had kyboshed that.
Stonehurst struggled to contain his laughter. “So, what really happened on your wedding night?”
“It’s none of your business,” Deanswood snapped.
Unabashed, Stonehurst grinned. “Your wife made it my business. Her dress sense is shocking. Is that why you couldn’t perform last night?”
Stonehurst was right. Alethea had involved him in the tangled mess of her marriage. “Did Alethea say I couldn’t… Of course, I could… Damn it, I don’t have to explain myself to you.”
“It might help to talk about it,” Stonehurst suggested.
Deanswood sighed. “Nothing else seems to. After I’d thrown Lady Babs out, my new mother-in-law collared me in the library. She read me an endless lecture on the sins of marital sex. I’d rather take a dressing down from Wellington than endure that again.”
Inwardly, Deanswood fumed. Why the hell had his wife waited until after the ceremony to send her mother to tell him she didn’t want sex? He supposed she was eager to get her grasping hands on his fortune.
When he learned his wife planned to cuckold him, his eyes narrowed and lips thinned in anger. A trip to Gentleman Jackson’s boxing salon beckoned. Going a few rounds with the champion might calm his soul.
Stonehurst’s teasing manner vanished, and he held up both hands, palm out. “I never touched her. We’re attracting too much attention. Walk with me.”
Deanswood had fought alongside Stonehurst in the Peninsular War and again at Waterloo. They’d shared too much to fall out over a woman. That said, Stonehurst enjoyed the earl’s discomfort far too much.
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Kryssie reads everything and anything, from literary fiction to sizzling romance. Her earliest memory is going to the library with her mother. She can’t have been more than two at the time. Reading, especially when a book’s hot and explicit, is more than a guilty pleasure. It’s an obsession.
Kryssie loves to visit historic sites, from Hadrian’s wall to Regency Bath. The first book she fell in love with was Georgette Heyer’s The Unknown Ajax. After that, she devoured every regency book she could. After a while, they went out of fashion, but part of Kryssie’s psyche lives in in in Regency London. She longs to dance quadrilles and flirt behind fans. Of course, Kryssie’s heroines do far more than flirt.
Kryssie lives in Bridlington on the Yorkshire coast –about thirty miles from Whitby, where Bram Stoker wrote Dracula. She enjoys gardening, travel, and socializing with her author friends. You’d be surprised how many erotic romance authors live in the North of England.
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After her long-time taekwondo instructor passes away suddenly, Jodie Price is certain her dreams of Olympic glory have been dashed, and she is thrilled when bold, handsome coach Dylan Atkins offers his help. But Dylan’s training regimen will be more rigorous than anything Jodie has experienced before, and she quickly discovers that he is a firm believer in strict discipline.
When she is caught drinking in defiance of Dylan’s rules, Jodie soon finds herself sobbing and promising to do better as she is thoroughly paddled. Dylan’s stern correction arouses her deeply, however, and it isn’t long before he takes her in his arms and masters her completely. But though his skilled, dominant lovemaking leaves her utterly spent and satisfied, will Jodie trust him enough to tell him the truth when a powerful sponsor tries to use their romance to blackmail her?
Publisher’s Note: The Master includes spankings and sexual scenes. If such material offends you, please don’t buy this book.
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(18+, spanky)
The deal settled, Dylan glanced about and spotted a vacant spanking bench a few yards away. He offered her his hand, and she took it.
“House safewords, okay?” He gestured to Jodie to assume the position on the bench.
“Red, yellow, green. Yes, that’s fine, Master Dylan. Do… do you want me to undress?”
Dylan seriously doubted that, once out of that dress, she’d be going back into it any time soon. “What do you have on under it?”
“Just a thong, Sir.”
“That’ll be fine.” He was already pushing the boundaries. He had no intention of touching her. A thong would preserve some sliver of modesty whilst offering no protection from his paddle.
He waited until she was draped across the top of the bench, then crouched to secure the cuffs around her wrists and ankles. Given that she wanted this spanking, the restraints weren’t needed for practical purposes, but she’d mentioned she enjoyed being tied up, so why not?
“Comfortable?”
“Yes, Master Dylan. Thank you.”
He peeled back the scrap of red latex that purported to make up the skirt of her dress and rolled it up to her waist. The thong beneath was made of bright red satin and disappeared between the rounded cheeks of her delectable ass. He could just make out the darker patch between her thighs that betrayed her arousal.
Good. That makes two of us.
A selection of spanking implements was displayed on the wall behind the bench. Dylan already had a good idea what he intended to use but took his time over making his choice. His little newbie sub would benefit from the wait. Eventually, he lifted down a paddle made of polished wood. It was of medium weight and would deliver a resounding, heavy stroke, more of a thud than a slap really. It would make plenty of noise, and he knew that would add considerably to the experience for Jodie.
“This is going to smart, but you’ll be fine for practice on Monday. That’s almost three days away.”
“Th-thank you.” She clenched her buttocks in anticipation as he took up position behind her.
“Ten strokes. You can count them if you like.”
“Only ten?” She shifted on the bench. “I usually manage more than that.”
Was that a note of disappointment in her voice? Dylan grinned. She’ll learn.
“We’re dealing in quality here, not quantity. Ten will be ample, I assure you.”
“Oh, but—”
“Are you ready, Jodie?” He tapped her upturned buttock with the flat of the paddle.
“Yes, Sir. I’m ready. I… Oh!”
She let out a satisfying squeal when he dropped the first stroke across her right cheek. The outline of the paddle bloomed in bright red across her creamy skin.
Pretty as a picture, he thought.
“Are you counting, Jodie?”
“What? Oh, yes. One, Sir.” Her voice was considerably less even now, her breath coming in short, quick pants. Oh, yes, she would most certainly learn.
He shifted slightly and raised the paddle again.
Jodie yelped, shrieked, writhed in the restraints. This will be a memorable lesson, he reflected as she counted out the next three strokes, whimpering between each one.
He spread the spanks evenly across her buttocks. Each cheek now bloomed beautifully, her gorgeous globes clenching and quivering as he selected his spot for the next slap.
The sound made by the paddle was sublime. A swift whistle as it whooshed through the air, then a deep, resonating thud when it connected with her flesh. From her squeals and grunts it was obvious Jodie appreciated the finer qualities of the implement; in particular, its ability to deliver a serious and memorable lesson with little in the way of aftereffects.
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She loves the 4 C’s: cats, chocolate, champagne and coffee. When she’s not writing she spends her time as a glorified taxi driver for her children and even finds time now and then to indulge in her interests, which include Tai Chi, dance, music, aviation and reading.
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Sassy, Sensual, Suspense
Sassy, Sensual, Suspense
Sassy, Sensual, Suspense