As most Wanting it All fans know, I’ve been feverishly working to finish book three in the Passion Series. I will share that I’m angry with myself because I had the full outline for this book back in January and had the first third finished before May. I then decided to take a hiatus from writing to work on getting published, stand up my website and complete a full length novel for the Corbin’s Bend series. My CB book, Life’s Unexpected Gifts, will release on December 17th. I am back focused on finishing Having it All so I can get it turned into Blushing as soon as possible.
But, I do feel bad that some of you who have been hanging with me since my Lit days are more than anxious to see what Lukus and Tiffany and Markus and Brianna have been up to. I thought I’d post a juicy excerpt from Having it All to whet your whistle for what’s coming in November. This is from the work in progress, so please forgive any errors. They are mine. We join Lukus and Tiffany as she attends her very first center stage show at The Punishment Pit.
Excerpt from WIP: Having it All
The server named Trixie kneels at the side of the chair, using what looks like a rope to secure Tiffany’s ankle cuffs to hooks at the bottom of the chair. She hands the end of the rope to Lukus, putting him in control of Tiff’s bondage. As she crawls from one side to the other, Tiffany detects the anger rolling off the woman. At first she’s not sure what’s causing it, but when their eyes lock, Tiff knows with certainty her anger is directed at Tiffany.
‘Ah! The first of many of his previous subs who are not happy with me being here. Just great. She works here.’
Tiff is relieved when Trixie finishes and hands the final rope to Lukus and he dismisses her. She sulks off to serve other patrons as the house lights go down. The house music changes over to an instrumental number with a heavy beat. Palpable anticipation and tension fills the room.
Waiting for the show to start, Lukus draws Tiff back so she rests against his chest. His lips brush her left ear lobe while one hand explores her splayed open pussy and the other cups her right breast.
“So you didn’t want to go through the contract. You’d rather talk about things. We’ll consider tonight our first official contract negotiation, baby. I have you as a captive audience and we’re going to talk about all of the things happening. What you like. What you don’t. What you’d try. What you won’t. Understand?”
“That was tricky.”
“Maybe.” Lukus sucks her left ear lobe in his mouth while burying what feels like two fingers deep in her wet slit.
“Oh, God. That feels so good. Don’t stop.”
“Here’s the deal. You keep talking, I keep rewarding you. You clam up, I keep my hands to myself.”
“I prefer resourceful. First question. We’ll start easy. On a scale of one to ten with ten being you love it, how do you feel about having your legs tied open and immobile like this?”
“That’s not easy!”
“Oh, so you’d rather me start with asking how you feel about needle play?”
“Well sure, since that’s a negative ten. See. Easy.”
Tiff loves his chuckle. “Fair enough. How about the naked slaves next to their Masters and Mistresses?”
“What am I rating? Watching them or how I’d feel if I was one of them?”
“Okay, well watching them is fine. Good even. Being one, I’m not sure yet.”
The stage curtains slowly part, revealing a dungeon scene. An announcer sounding a lot like Ethan announces the start of the show. As the stage lights brighten, Tiffany’s eyes become riveted to the scene center stage. A scene pried directly out of the deepest recesses of her own mind; visions formulated years ago after reading several very dark erotic romance novels. That this is real should dampen her excitement. She should feel embarrassed, maybe angry. Hell, definitely scared. None of those adjectives capture her true feelings as surprising waves of desire to surrender and submit wash over her.
Center stage, arms strung high against a thick wooden whipping post, a frightened and vulnerable woman hangs. As if hanging from her arms isn’t painful enough, her legs are bent and pulled up and wide, secured by artfully wrapped layers of white rope, leaving her entire body open for inspection and punishment. Even from a distance Tiff can see tears streaming down her face, tracks of black mascara in their wake.
Tiff becomes aware of Lukus leaning in close. “How are you doing, baby? What number are you?”
‘I can’t tell him the truth. What will he think of me?’
“Tiff, are you okay? Answer me. I need your…”
“Eleven. I’m at an eleven.”
She hears his sharp intake of breath. “I think I can work with that.”