I Want – an excerpt

I Want

#fantasy #erotic romance #bisexual #menage

I Want_smAntoinette Travis knew what she wanted and wasn’t afraid to do exactly what was necessary to make it to the top. Outside of sleeping her way there. And she was certain her rival got the promotion that should have been hers by doing exactly that. Angry at losing the job that would have given her what she wanted, she stalks out of the office and heads for the closest bar, where a deliciously mesmerizing, exotic bartender asks her the one question to which she thinks she knows the answer.

Swept away to a tropical island, sans clothes and stripped of all civilized veneer, she’s offered the opportunity to redefine not only what she wants, but what she truly needs.

 

EXCERPT

Antoinette paced the length of her office like a caged tigress, the interoffice memo crumpled into a small ball cutting into the flesh of her locked fist. She had been passed over yet again for the promotion. Endless nights of work on this last project should have garnered her the recognition she rightly deserved. Dedicating herself to its success, working night and day to see it through to completion before the deadline had all been for nothing. That bitch, Camille, had made the cut and not her.

She’d wanted that promotion—deserved it.

“Antoinette, staff meeting in twenty minutes.”

She whipped around to confront the quivering woman hovering in the open doorway, pinning her in her sights like a doe with no hope of escape. Maggie had been her assistant for the last six months and now stood there wringing her hands together, a worried frown on her face.

Pitiful. How did the woman manage to survive this long in the piranha-infested waters of the business world without being eaten alive?

 Antoinette didn’t have much luck keeping assistants for any length of time—Maggie had lasted the longest.

“I’ll be there shortly,” she bit out, spearing her assistant with a hard, icy look that brooked no argument.

She saw Maggie gulp and watched with disdain as she quickly backed out of the office, closing the door softly behind her.

She spun away and continued her prowl of the confining perimeters of her office, arms folded tightly across her breasts, locking in her emotions. Like hell I’ll be at that meeting and fawn over that slut. Lunging around her desk, she yanked open the bottom drawer and reached down to snap up her hand-tooled leather purse, knowing she couldn’t stay in this office another second without blowing wide open. Patience had never been a part of her make up, and what little she did have could currently be counted among the dead.

A new grill had opened around the corner, and right now seemed the perfect opportunity to check out the bar.

The outer office floor was eerily silent as she strode across what felt like a football playing field length of open space to reach the bank of elevators on the other side. Their eyes latched onto her, trailing her as she left, making it feel like she was caught in the rifle crosshairs of a mob of hunters, all aimed at her, waiting for the right moment to drop her in her tracks.

Well, she wasn’t going to give them an opening, that was for sure. Sonofabitch, Camille had probably fucked her way into this promotion. Literally.

 Once inside the elevator, she spun around to face the front as the doors slid shut. She released the pent-up breath she’d been holding and her shoulders drooped with the burdensome weight of her failure—yet again. This was the second time she’d been passed over. What was it they’d said after the last time when she’d met with them, demanding to know why? She needed to learn to become more attuned to the other employees? She didn’t bond well with her co-workers, something she needed to work on. What the hell did that mean? She knew how to get the job done. Employees were supposed to follow orders, that’s what they were paid to do, weren’t they? A person shouldn’t have to worry about getting all caught up emotionally, and bonding with them. That was for sentimentalists—definitely not for her.

Reaching the main floor, she stumbled out of the elevator onto the marble reception area and hurried toward the revolving door that would allow her to make a quick escape. And good riddance. It was time to take stock and consider moving on. This company obviously wasn’t going to get her what she wanted. She’d thought it was the type of place that recognized the determination to succeed. But apparently she was wrong. They wanted serendipitous mush, not aggressive balls. When she saw opportunity she grabbed it and ran and it didn’t matter who got in the way. If they weren’t with her, they were the enemy and tromped over to get where she was going. Why is it no one could see what it really took to succeed in the shark-infested waters of success? It was one of the things that had been practically beaten into her and she’d never forgotten it. Eat or be eaten.

Control or be controlled.

Her professor back in college had taught her all about the fine art of negotiation. And she’d paid dearly for that lesson. That was a long time ago and a lot of water under the bridge. No one had ever tried to dominate her since then—she was going to be the one with the power and the money. And then they’d see what she was made of. And she didn’t plan to get there by way of anyone’s bed to do it. She’d been that route once. Never again.

The summer sun seared her skin, yet the midday heat could not rival the blazing, frustrated anger she planned to numb with a few shots of scotch. She slowed her gait as she came closer to her destination and turned as she reached the entrance of the latest renovation on Front Street, peering up at the swirling blue neon sign about the doorway. “DreamTime Bar and Grill.”

Right.

 She grabbed the thick vertical, gleaming brass handle, yanked the heavy oak door open and stepped inside, bracing herself against the cold shock of the air-conditioned interior. As the door quietly closed behind her, muffling the street noises, she stood for a moment as she allowed her eyes to adjust to the dimly lit interior. Except for the old nineteenth century gaslight-styled lighting fixtures flickering around the mahogany and brass bar, it was very dark, but the subdued lighting guided her path straight to the bar. She bypassed the hostess with a wave of her hand, and headed for an empty barstool. Climbing onto the red leather seat, she plunked her purse onto the counter and surveyed the array of bottles setting on the mirrored glass shelving behind the bar. Eyeing her poison, she then searched for the bartender, who she spotted standing at the other end of the room talking with the only other patron at this hour of the day.

Tapping her well-manicured nails impatiently against the satiny wood surface, she pointedly glared at him. Finally, he must have felt the laser of her stare and slowly turned his head. She almost choked on her own breath as she gulped surprise. It was like colliding with a fierce front of hot tropical wind as his gaze settled on her.

Antoinette wasn’t really into relationships or sex—had never found it that great an experience. But looking at the darkly bronzed, blatantly sexual male on the other side of the bar as his eyes blazed a trail through her sent an odd sense of steamy heat spiraling through her frigid bloodstream.

Quickly, she shifted her gaze and attempted to dispel the desire to shed her clothes right there and beg the delicious specimen reeking male testosterone to fuck her. Some undefined elemental electricity he exuded zapped right into her core, and she quickly came to the conclusion she didn’t like the feeling. Not at all. It was as though he pulled at her control mechanism, sought the combination that unlocked the safe she kept all emotion locked behind. And it was a scary thought that he might actually have the ability to discover the right sequence of numbers to pull that door wide open.

Frantically, she grabbed her purse. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all.

“What can I get you?” His voice was a blend of chocolate silk and chili peppers, making her body tingle and melt all at the same time. She was afraid to look up, to acknowledge him. What if he saw her response to him? Was she going crazy? Had she finally snapped after this last failure at work?

“Miss?”

Slowly, she lifted her gaze to encounter— Sonofabitch! She blinked rapidly. His eyes pinned her, appeared to pinpoint every secret trapped inside her. She could feel his clear Mediterranean sea-blue eyes penetrating into her, like a laser beam directed toward her soul. She couldn’t look away, mesmerized by their liquid, rippling depths. An ache began in the pit of her stomach, tentacles of sensual feeling moving outward, downward, stroking from the inside out. His eyes—how strange. The pupils looked silver—silver flames that flickered and beckoned, shining molten pools of seduction. She attempted to speak, but couldn’t find her voice. The pattern of her breaths increased until she was almost hyperventilating.

“What do you want, Antoinette?” How did he know her name? But the longer her gaze locked with his, the less she really cared how he knew. Some unheard command regulated her breathing to slower, long, deep sighs, almost as though he held some sort of hypnotic quality beneath the surface of his sensual tone.

The hard veneer of sophistication and control she always maintained eroded the longer she sat there. The sizzling hot-cold flames of his eyes clawed at the brittle surface, seeking a crack, a way to reach inside and pull out—

She blinked. Then blinked again, trying to dispel the haze of lust that seemed to consume her. She fought it, struggled to run from the foreign feeling of desire burning a hole inside her. Yet she couldn’t seem to move. Her lips felt dry and parched, her throat raw and scratched, as though some long-unquenched thirst harboring inside for longer than she could remember needed to be assuaged, and she circled her tongue along their dry, needy surface.

“I-I don’t know what I want,” she finally managed to stutter out. “Not anymore.”

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Camaraderie – An Excerpt

Midnight Pearl Brotherhood: Camaraderie

(Ep. 2, Midnight Pearl Brotherhood) (#fantasy, #MM, #submission)

MidnightPearl_Camaraderie_Ep2_smThe ancient myths of the Brotherhood of the Midnight Pearl tell of an island formed from the depths of the ocean, in the midst of a sea of mystical, sapphire beauty. It is an island paradise built on love and devotion to a common belief, a society made up entirely of handsome and desirable men. And Alonzo Smith is on a journey to discover his place among them.

In this story, Alonzo has passed his initiation, but now he and the other initiates await their guide who will take them across the Titan Mountains and into the city. These men discover more about themselves, and each other, than they ever expected. In particular, Alonzo finds that there are depths to his sexy comrade, David, that he never anticipated…

EXCERPT

“I think we should go. How long are we expected to wait?” Helmer asked on the fourth night as they sat around the fire, having just feasted on a supper of steamed clams and crabs, none of the young men having been able to spear a fish today. Smart little creatures to have eluded them so. But not so lucky were those buried beneath the shores or scampering across wet sand. Parker, the Silent, as he’d been dubbed early on, was already cleaning up the discarded, broken shells with an eye toward burying the remains farther along the beach. Each of them had been trained well in maintaining cleanliness surrounding the area where they lived.

“Not a good idea,” Krispin, the Immaculata, said as he worked to clean his teeth with the end of a twig he’d cut from a tree at the edge of the jungle. Krispin certainly had a creative knack about maintaining his personal hygiene. No matter how primitive the circumstances, he found a way to always keep his appearance at its best. Alonzo had taken a lesson or two from the Immaculata. Krispin spit into the fire before continuing. Though his appearance was immaculate, there was something to be said for his manners. Alonzo was relieved he didn’t pee into the fire—he’d been known to pull that stunt a time or two.

“If you haven’t learned anything else from staying in these bloody huts,” Alonzo said, “I would have thought you’d learned that patience is one virtue those in authority admire most.”

“Hardly think he’s learned that bit,” David, dubbed the Steadfast, said. “I think he rather likes the punishments his squire meted out to him. That’s what you really want, isn’t it, Helmer? Get us all in trouble just because you prefer the spankings and the whippings.”

Helmer, who had acquired the moniker “Prick,” just grinned back at David. The nickname was meant more to needle Helmer than anything else. Helmer had shown himself to be a most impatient fellow right from the start, giving rise at most inappropriate moments. The group had shared more than one of his “reprimands” during training. In more than one instance the word had been mumbled by men rubbing their sore asses all thanks to him. And that obviously hadn’t changed one iota. A cheeky fellow, too. Not in the least as respectful as he should be. “Maybe. Never have been very good with patience. Not my strong suit.”

“Perhaps,” Alonzo suggested, “you’ll enjoy serving the Painmaster.” He shuddered inwardly at the thought of serving such a harsh man of authority. But here on the island there were all types, to suit every taste.

“Mmm,” Helmer said. “My squire spoke with me at length about apprenticing with that particular man of authority. I will say it does sound rather intriguing. I wouldn’t ever have to worry about getting enough…if you get my point. I’d think he’d be delighted having a man like me apprentice to him. Someone who rather enjoys being bad, more than being perfectly amenable…like our lad Alonzo here.”

Not the most wondrous nickname, but rather that than some other. Amenable Alonzo. And it had been the damned Prick who had thought it up.

“I’m not perfect, Helmer. In fact, I’d say I rather enjoyed the odd whipping from Squire. He has a very good hand. But I’d rather not have a steady diet of it, such as you’d enjoy, I’m sure.” He settled back between David’s thighs and felt the stiff presence of his friend’s cock poking insistently between his shoulders. He rubbed against that alert presence. David softly groaned. “I wonder who we’ll all end up serving once we make it to the city? I have a feeling it may not be who we think it is. But I must say, I am looking forward to the challenges that await us there.”

“First we have to get over the mountain,” Parker said, as he came back and dropped down cross-legged onto the sand. “My Squire said it’s not going to be any picnic crossing the Titans.”

“Yes, mine said the same,” David injected. Alonzo closed his eyes and David kneaded his scalp, combing his fingers through Alonzo’s long, dark hair. “He said we should get plenty of rest because we’re going to need every bit of stamina we can muster.”

“Well, this waiting around is killing me,” Helmer complained.

Parker leaned toward the pile of driftwood and picked up a sturdy stick. He directed the end toward Helmer. “Would you like some help? Just so you can sleep better, of course.”

Now Available

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Horsemasters: Riding Lessons – an excerpt

Bet you never had a riding lesson or horse trainer like this one. Get ready to warm up, baby.  Here’s a hot little story excerpt from Horsemasters: Riding Lessons.

Riding Lessons

(#MFM #erotica #bdsm #contemporary #submission #menage)

Gossips say Miguel d’Loganno is a sex master of the highest caliber. Melanie Anne Grayson is desperate for his services. To hire him to train her horse, Merciless, that is.

The horse trainer is attractive, commanding, and delicious. So is his strong, silent companion, Ricardo Santofoya. Their unorthodox training methods, both for horse and owner, havHorsemasters_RidingLessons_sme the horse set lining up to engage their talents.

Can Melanie submit to the Horsemaster in order to obtain his services for her steed? A lusty, blistering interview with these sexy horse trainers has her panting to learn more about their unique training methods.

 

EXCERPT

“Control,” Miguel bit out, his rock-hard, glittering gaze imprisoning hers. “It’s in your eyes, Ms. Grayson. I can always tell when rebellion is about to erupt.” He thrust his hips and she felt him all the way to her core. Her fingers curled in the dark pelt. Her head dropped back, eyelids fluttering close.

“Attention,” he bit out.

Immediately she lifted her head and looked into those merciless coal-dark eyes. It was a look that commanded her submission and acquiescence. Slowly she lifted, feeling every inch of his prick as it stroked along her sensitive, dripping channel. The muscles in her legs ached, but her pussy cried out for more, faster, deeper.

The rumor was that he enjoyed providing the private riding lessons to the owners as tandem to the horse training. It’s part of what made him unique among their set. And he was very, very good at it. It was well known that for as long as he accepted the training assignment at the farm, he expected the owner or owners, as the case may be, to bow to his every direction and command as well when it came to training their prizewinning steeds. He set the schedule.

Miguel was a truly fine specimen of a man, with a lean, solid frame, not an inch of surplus flesh. Hard and chiseled, hot and powerful. Feeling him between her slick thighs was like being mounted on a half-wild, pure-blood Andalusian stallion. Proud, agile, intelligent. Characteristics of animal and man, a perfect blend of dynamic, lusty temptation.

The vision emerged in her mind of him tossing her onto the floor, spreading her legs wide and spearing her deep. A Spanish conquistador claiming his prize. The image of primal rutting at its most basic level surged through her, twisting inside her, to the point where she was almost ready to beg. Oh, God, what was happening to her? Was it going to be that easy for her to topple beneath his spell?

One might almost consider him a shining star at the peak of the set of trainers available among the horse set, or maybe a skilled gigolo in some arenas. But from his reputation and the history of his protégées’ successes and the contentment and hero worship of the owners, he earned every penny of his exorbitant fees. And deserved every ounce of his reputation.

He also provided the unique service of locating a satisfactory substitute trainer when he left for the next assignment. No one was required to suffer withdrawal after his intense lessons—he always made sure their new appetites were well satisfied—and maintained. And he owned his students’ loyalty completely by the time he left their employ.

Oh, he was rugged, he was a man’s man, that was for sure. And she would do anything—absolutely anything—to have him train Merciless. She would be whatever he wanted her to be. And she would follow his instructions to the letter if that’s what it took to get him to sign the contract. Because she knew Merciless—this horse—was the one that would cut her from the herd of mediocre stables.

Her slick juices had her riding and gripping Miguel’s immense prick. The thick flesh brushed against her stiff clit, causing her to shudder with pleasure.

Now available on Amazon.

Free and Discounted Books – 12/25-1/1

SmashwordsHolidaySaleI hope everyone is having a wonderful holiday and looking forward to a great 2019. I’ve been doing some baking, and I’m currently sailing on a sugar high this week. Bad, bad girl am I. I’ll be better next week, I promise.

I wanted to take a moment to let you know that at Smashwords several of my books are either #free or #discounted this week – December 12th through January 1st. Now may be a great time to catch up if you haven’t had a chance to read these stories.

Use code SS100 to get these books for free:

  • Jebediah’s Promise (excerpt)
  • Immortal Treasure (excerpt)
  • Forget Me Not (excerpt)
  • White Leather and No Regrets
  • Eluria’s Enforcer (excerpt)
  • New Blood Initiate
  • Love Me Tonight

Use code SEY50 to get these books discounted at 50% off the cover price:

 

Here’s the link  to check out my stories currently available for sale  on Smashwords:

http://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/adriannadane

 

 

Black Leather & New Boundaries – EXCERPT

Ariyel Esmund introduced Ren Noletta, a bookkeeper, to an erotic world of dominance and submission. And then he introduced her to his friend, Creed Bennett. The two men took Ren on a journey of discovery until finally she had to make a choice between white leather or black. Now, in a new environment of whips and chains and floggers, suspension bars and bondage, Creed will take Ren even further with an exploration of her darker, hidden desires.

Not regretting her choice, Ren continues sexual lessons with her new Dom, a mysterious man with closely held secrets. But rather than being put off by Creed’s reticence to share every facet of his life with her, Ren is drawn deeper into his compartmentalized lifestyle. Though Creed is a man who rules his world with a strong hand, he uses slightly different methods of seduction and domination on Ren rather than forcing her, and she falls for him hard. New York City is a different beast from her tame-cat environment of lonely, small-town life, and Creed gives Ren new, unexpected boundaries to challenge her. Will Ren accept the additional tasks Creed presents? And where exactly does love fit into the texture of this frighteningly delicious relationship?

EXCERPT

Food for Thought. Tonight Creed surprised her. He’d prepared dinner for her, an elegant feast of tender rosemary chicken, succulent honey-drenched baby carrots, wild rice, and a rich cherry cheesecake for dessert. The wine was a chilled white chardonnay from his cellar.

BlackLeatherNewBoundaries“I’ll be leaving in the morning. I’m not sure how long I’ll be gone,” he said.

“You never tell me where you’re going. What you do is very secretive isn’t it?” She picked at the chicken, snagged one of the carrots and cut it into tiny pieces.

Like everything else, Creed was very deliberate and controlled when he ate. He cut things very precisely as though he had a comfortable, almost surgical skill with a knife. He chewed slowly as though savoring each bite. He picked up his glass and took a deep swallow of the wine. With a quiet, yet deliberate motion, he set the glass back on the table.

“It’s for your own protection, Ren. You don’t want to know the details of what I do. That’s the only way I can keep you–and keep you safe. Is dinner to your liking?”

Obviously, the conversation about his upcoming trip was closed. She tried to force her thoughts away from the fact he was leaving again, and turned toward the dinner and taking some comfort from the fact that he was with her tonight. And she planned to make the best of the evening.

After dinner, he gave her time in the guest bathroom with the hand-detailed gold and white wallpaper, luxuriously accessorized for guests, to prepare. Ren wondered about those guests, but then her attention was caught by something else–a silver rectangular gift box tied with a wide silver ribbon, setting on the counter in the bathroom in front of the antique oval mirror. She gasped with pleasure when she opened it. Inside was a short black satin robe with black roses embroidered around the hem and cuffs, and a pair of elegant, silk, black-and-silver stilettos, also embroidered with a matching design. They appeared to mirror her tattoo startlingly well.

She removed her beige heels, slipped out of the jade green business suit, unhooked and rolled down her beige stockings and removed them. She unfastened her light green satin garter belt, then folded all the garments neatly and set them inside one of the inset cupboards. When she finished her preparations, she donned the robe, tied the belt, then slipped on the heels. After one more glance in the mirror, she left the spacious bathroom.

Creed eyed her appreciatively when she entered the living room. He sat in a forest green winged-back chair in front of the fireplace. When he saw her, he set aside his snifter of cognac and rose to his feet.

“When I saw the robe in the shop, I knew you had to have it,” he said as she moved toward him and knelt down. “And then I found the heels at another shop not far away.” He placed a hand on top of her head. He smoothed it over her hair.

“Thank you, Sir. They’re perfect.”

He placed a hand beneath her chin and tilted her head back. His black eyes bore into her. “I enjoy shopping for you,” he murmured. “I enjoy it very much. I enjoy fantasizing about how you’ll look in the clothes I choose for you. Or how you’ll respond to the toys I discover. What I’ll do to you, and how you’ll scream with pleasure when I’ve made you come. Again and again. Just as you’ll do tonight.”

Then he leaned down to kiss her quite thoroughly, and possessively, leaving her breathless, but still yearning for more.

He brought her to her feet, then guided her through the hallways and down to his dungeon. It was a room with black walls and black-light tracking at ceiling and floor to illuminate it. There was an array of equipment, including the suspension bar. Ren was never as aware of her surroundings as when she was in Creed’s private dungeon. Her trust in Creed was never more evident as when she was hanging from the suspension rack.

She looked toward the wall displaying implements for chastisement and pleasure. She noted the horse, a cross, and, of course, the simple bed with iron head and baseboards, hung with matching chains and manacles. Which would he use tonight?

She stripped off the robe and he took it from her and hung it from a hook near the door. He led her to the suspension apparatus. She felt no fear. Ren trusted him implicitly.

“Tonight, we’ll see if we can turn something distasteful into something quite pleasant and in fact make you yearn to repeat the experience again and again. We’ll begin with a bit of sensory deprivation. Do you have a problem with that, Ren?”

She bowed her head. “Whatever you wish, Master.” She was excited. He had never failed to challenge her, to excite her, to please her. But she couldn’t deny there was a hint of fear of the unknown tingeing her excitement. That always magnified the experience.

He placed his hand at her lower spine and guided her forward. His bare hand, so warm. Calluses, a mark of the man unafraid of hard work. As he positioned her and bound her, she glanced at the wall, at the whips, the ropes, the chains. She wondered which of the whips he’d use tonight.

Available on Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B06XBPG6RV

An Excerpt from Trailmaster Phelix

TrailmasterPhelix_Ep3_sm

Brotherhood of the Midnight Pearl, Ep. 3: Trailmaster Phelix. Now available on Amazon.

 

Island paradise hardly describes the erotic secret man-society Alonzo has entered…lust, love, passion, submission…possession…

There’s danger in the initiates becoming too closely acquainted. After a night of passion, Trailmaster Phelix arrives to change the balance. He’s been watching them and now he has an eye for Alonzo in particular. The jungle may not be the only challenge awaiting Alonzo…

 

An Excerpt from Trailmaster Phelix:

The Trailmaster’s firm hand clamped onto Alonzo’s jaw and tilted his head back. Flinty gray eyes that reminded Alonzo of forged iron looked down at him from a very great height. A flash of sunlight changed the color, suddenly reminding Alonzo of the barred cage at Wetham’s private club.

Just for you, Alonzo.

Wetham’s ghostly voice whispered inside his head. He heard the sharp clang as the door to the cage was closed, shutting him inside. The click of the steel lock, imprisoning him securely. The laughter of the men as they clinked glasses.

“So. You are Alonzo,” the Trailmaster said. “I’ve heard of you. You were much desired at the ceremony the other night. So much so in fact, that it’s said one of the Ancients had to have you.” Eyes focused on the sand, Alonzo said nothing. There was no question in that statement that required his response.

For you, Alonzo. Just for you.

“Well, we shall see just how amenable you are. That is what they call you, right? Amenable Alonzo?” The Trailmaster dropped his hand away, but he did not order Alonzo to join the others. “I am Trailmaster Phelix. You will address me as Master Phelix at all times. And you will follow every order I give you without question. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Master Phelix.”

“For this trip you shall serve as my…personal servant. You will track me, stay at my side, a step behind, serve my meals, attend to me in all ways. I’ve chosen you instead of one of the others because if I’ve judged right, your submissive nature will keep you in line without an inordinate amount of discipline. You’ve served men before, haven’t you? And not just common men, but gentlemen.”

More wine, boy. Fill our cups.

Alonzo, his legs manacled, the clink of chains rustling filling his ears, had served the gentlemen, filling each cut-glass, gold-rimmed goblet with the expensive wine. The chains, forged and fashioned in the ironworks owned by one of the fine gentleman, banded his wrists, grinding together as he moved to each man. His cock bobbed free as he shuffled from place to place.

Wetham’s specter, like some demon, constantly rode him, ever at the forefront of Alonzo’s mind. A collage of the other men, Wetham’s friends, marched across his memories.

Trailmaster Phelix, Ep. 3 of the Midnight Pearl Brotherhood

Now available on Amazon.

Unicorn Craving – An Excerpt

UnicornCraving_smUnicorn Craving, a quirky little erotic fantasy with fairies and magic and sexy shapeshifting unicorns.

Gillian Darby took a ride in the country to pick apples for a pie. She never expected to end up dropped in a whole other realm, apparently as the birthday gift for a unicorn prince. Gillian is an adventurous girl and takes up the offer of the sexy man with the thick white tail as his only adornment, to become his consort for the day in exchange for a basket of magical fruit. Being a chef with an eye toward fame, she was certain she was on her way and had made a very shrewd deal. Or had she? The handcuffs and the matching white tail accessory he present to her–might be another matter entirely.

Excerpt:

“Ah,” she said as she reached out with gnarled hands to clasp Gillian’s. “You have come. Excellent. Step inside, I have a gift for you.”

“B-but I don’t know you. How can you have a gift for me? How did you know I’d be here?”

The old woman chuckled softly. “I know who you are.” She turned and tapped the front of Gillian’s shirt where the gold-horned unicorn was displayed on the front. “This gift is for you, only for you.”

Hesitantly, Gillian followed her into the tent. What could it hurt? A person didn’t discover special one-of-a-kind items by being shy and reluctant. That’s one thing she’d learned over the years. A person had to take a chance or two if they wanted to break away from the pack.

The interior of the tent was dark and smelled of sandalwood incense, and her tense muscles eased as she inhaled the woodsy aroma. The old woman turned to face her, blue eyes glittering like sapphires in the gloomy interior.

“Yes, you will do nicely. He’s waited long enough.”

“Do for what? Who are you talking about?”

She waved a hand in the air above her head and Gillian heard the jangle of her bracelets. The sound was bell-like and sultry, almost rhythmically hypnotic. She blinked and shook her head. How eerie.

The old woman turned away to a display shelf, rustled around and then turned back. She held something out. “This is for you. You must take it with you on your journeys.”

Gillian looked down and her eyes rounded. “What is it?”

The old woman chuckled. “What do you think it is? It’s the unicorn’s horn. Today is his birthday and you must take it to him. Tell them Derrika sends a gift.”

“Derrika? Are you Derrika?”

The woman nodded. She then reached into a tan leather pouch hooked to her belt. She pulled out a pinch of sparkly blue powder and threw it into Gillian’s eyes.

Gillian quickly reached up to wipe it away. “What are you doing? Trying to blind me?”

“A little glamour to ease your journey. Nothing harmful…just a bit of magic.” Then Gillian felt the touch of the woman’s hand as she stroked the left side of her face. She traced a fingertip brow to jaw. “So lovely. He will not mind, I’m sure.” She tapped her cheek lightly and then lowered her hand. “That should protect you from the wrong sort.”

Gillian blinked, tearing up, and then her vision cleared. She gasped when she saw the woman clearly again. Or maybe not so clearly, for now she looked like she was at least forty years younger.

“Where—where—” she babbled incoherently.

The woman nodded and smiled. “You see? Not everything is quite what it appears.” She walked to the back of the tent and opened the flap. “It’s time for you to go. Remember to tell them Derrika sent you. Then they will know the gift is true. Maybe we’ll meet again when you least expect it.”

Slowly, Gillian walked over to the flap and peered out. “You want me to go down this alley?” It didn’t look like it was particularly inviting and there wasn’t another person in sight.

Derrika nodded. “Oh, yes. You will be quite safe. You’ll see when you reach the end.”

With amazing strength, the woman yanked her out beyond the tent and then closed the flap. Gillian hesitated, ready to turn back and circle around the tent that belonged to a crazy woman. But then something caught her eye at the end of the alley. A light that almost blinded her with its intensity. And there were apple trees with the brightest crimson apples, almost as though they had been dipped into wet glitter. They were certainly the largest she’d ever seen. She simply had to get a closer look.

The leaves on the trees were very close to a fluorescent shade of green. It felt like they were drawing her forward, one step at a time. Her spirit of adventure kicked in, and cautiously she made her way down the darkened alley toward the bright light at the end, clutching the golden horn close against her breast.

She thought she heard the soft echo of a feminine chuckle as she drew closer to the source of the bright light. And then she was at the end of the alley and poised at a world that seemed vastly different from what she had ever known. The trees were a bit farther away than she had at first thought. She didn’t see another soul around and all she heard was the whisper of the trees, the wind pulling at her to continue. And the smell of ripe, juicy apples.

How could she resist? She stepped from the dirt gravel of the alley onto the green grassy lawn. And screamed as the green lawn swallowed her up and she fell into empty space. Tumbling and somersaulting, unable to grab onto anything to stop her rapid descent, it seemed like she fell a long way.

And then she landed with a thump onto soft ground. She lay for a moment to catch her breath before trying to move. Finally, opening her eyes, she gazed around. Everything was so very green. She heard a noise coming from the other side of the bushes where she had landed. Curiosity got the better of her and, rising to her knees, she slowly separated the branches. Her mouth rounded in a shocked “oh” at what she saw.

“Oh, my.”

Unicorn Cravingpreorder now on Amazon, releasing December 26th.

Captivity now in Paperback!

At last, after much angst over creating and designing the paperback, it’s now available. Both the digital and paperback have been re-edited and released, which now includes the Prologue for this story.

 

Captivity by Adrianna Dane

NOW AVAILABLE IN PAPERBACK AND DIGITAL
Paperback: https://www.amazon.com/Captivity-Adrianna-Dane/dp/1548697141. (It may be ordered through CreateSpace as well.)
Digital wherever fine ebooks are sold: http://books2read.com/captivity
Captive to the charisma of a powerful, sensual master – and slave to his own unquenchable desire. The winged man, once known simply as sthe wild thing, was free to roam the jungles outside Bendar City. Until he was betrayed, captured, and sold to a powerful lord who covets the birdman’s unique beauty for himself. Lord Adolpho Serratin of the Kalamadur Oasis maintains an unusual collection. Orion Birdwalker soon becomes the most precious of Serratin’s possessions, in more ways than one. The wild thing is soon named, tamed, and trained to serve his new master in all ways…
Read an excerpt: http://www.adriannadane.com/captivity.html

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#MM #masterslave #futuristic #fantasy #eroticromance #gay #bdsm

Steamy Little Excerpt from Eye Candy and Achy Hearts

In this excerpt from Eye Candy and Achy Hearts,  Jeffrey gets his first glimpse of EyeCandy2933. And a big “yum” for him.

 

Since Valentine’s Day to be exact—three days ago—the anticipation about meeting EyeCandy2933 was more stressful than knowing that my boss had just slimmed down his staff and informed us at a staff meeting that those of us left behind would have to pull our weight plus some. Translated, that meant stuffing forty-eight hours of work into twenty-four. This job was going to be the death of me. I hated it.

As my midnight hour drew closer, I kept thinking I should cancel. I glanced at the pile of paperwork on my desk that needed to be translated and transformed into tax advantages for our clients. I knew I wasn’t going to cancel. I definitely needed the fantasy.

John Smith and Douglas Jones. That’s the name the room was registered in. It was the type of hotel where the desk attendant didn’t ask questions. Not too sleazy, let’s just call them discreet. As long as the money wasn’t counterfeit, they could have cared less whose name was on the register.

On the night in question, my hand trembled as I slipped the key card into the door slot on the sixth floor of the Remington Hotel on West Main Street. Fuck! Red light. Try it again. Bzzzt! The story of my life. One more time. Three’s the charm, right? Green light meant go. Bells ringing. Ding-dong, ding-dong. Open Sesame. Stupid kid’s tale, as I entered my own Aladdin’s cave filled with what I hoped would be my personal jewel of exotic delight.

Opening the door to the hotel room, I couldn’t believe my luck. Brave soul was he. Far too trusting, I think. But he was young, not so jaded as I. At least he looked quite young. Maybe when I got closer I’d find the age lines that didn’t show up at a distance in a darkened room. He sat there, his back to me—his sexy, naked back, a slight curve to his deliciously long spine. Adonis or Cupid, I couldn’t decide. He was everything I’d fantasized he would be.

Resting next to him on the king-sized bed was a heart-shaped box. Looked like white satin, with a big red bow. But it wasn’t the candy box that caught my attention, it was the cute eye candy in the lacy white satin bikini undies—panties that matched the pattern of white satin on the candy box.

His online photo didn’t do him justice. No way, no how. I was salivating as I gazed at him. EyeCandy2933 certainly knew how to set up a sexy scene. I had to give him that. To the side, on the table, sat a bottle of cabernet, nicely chilling.

They were a set—he and the candy box. Small red bows decorated each side of his hips. Sitting there, on the bed like that, he held my rapt attention and my week of painful casualties slipped away. Casualties. Frustrated fantasies that never came to fruition.

Still, they hurt.

Of particular note was when Harvey Smith, the investment counselor who worked several floors above me, who’d given me some great advice, and for whom I’d had my romantic eye on for some time, announced at Willborn Pub, that he was getting married. And it wasn’t to me. I hadn’t even known he was involved with someone. I’d always thought someday maybe I’d get up the nerve to ask him out. Now it was too late. I always seemed to wait just a beat too long. But not this time I hoped.

The hotel door swung shut behind me with a solid latching sound of a small bank vault, shutting out the outside world. I forgot about Harvey.

Happy distraction. Happy Belated Valentine’s Day to me.

EyeCandy2933’s head was tipped to the side in demure fashion. Neatly trimmed thick wavy ink-black hair. Long, long black eyelashes swept downward in flirtatious shyness. A Persian harem boy, sweetly poised. At least a good fifteen years younger than me. Twenty maybe? No more than twenty-five, I’d say. At least that’s what he appeared from my less-than-astute assumptions on age. Minutia. Age, as long as he was legal, didn’t matter. And legal he was. He had golden tanned skin that spoke of long days spent in the sun. No tan marks that I could discern. He made me think of warm, Mediterranean, sapphire-blue, sparkling waters. Maybe he was Greek. Perhaps Italian. Maybe even Persian. His profile had been sketchy about his background. It didn’t really matter. He was perfect.

Then he craned his neck around to look at me and I caught my breath. Eyes of the Mediterranean, vivid and bright. Slowly he smiled, his teeth so white against his golden skin. Really nice smile.

“AchyHeart1945?” he asked, in a voice not too high, not too low. A tone that hinted at promises from between full lips that likely were fashioned to follow through on the invitation.

Though I couldn’t help blushing at the name—it was the first one that came to mind when I’d signed up for the dating site. I was frustrated with myself. Interesting that there were 1,944 other achy hearts before me. Once signed up I couldn’t take it back.

I cleared my throat.

“Yeah. I guess.”

He chuckled softly. “First time you’ve done something like this?” he gently asked.

I rubbed my sweaty palm against my trousers. “Yeah.” It was the only word that seemed to fully form inside my head.

I watched him unfold from the bed. Compact, hard in all the right places. The outline of his cock appeared stallion-proportioned beneath the flimsy lacy panties. God, but I loved those panties and what they hinted at. A swath of dark curly hair covered his well-constructed chest. More hair curled over the edges of the panties. Manly, I’d say. I liked that he wasn’t shaved. Pretty. Gorgeous. A mix of so many perfect things. Raindrops on roses, whiskers on kittens, white lace-wrapped packages, and dark eyes that spoke volumes.These are a few of my favorite things. Okay, maybe those aren’t quite the right lyrics. But mom’s favorite movie, The Sound of Music, kept that tune spiraling inside my head. We’d just come off a marathon of holiday viewing, so no wonder it kept replaying in my mind. But the lyrics, those I’d made my own. Too bad. I’m not a kid anymore and with age I’ve learned to adapt. So should a classic song, right?

He padded toward me. “You’re just as I imagined. Have you another name? You can call me Noelle. Online is one thing, but here, in person, it should be something more intimate, don’t you think?”

“Noelle?” That surprised me. It made me think of Christmas. It made me think of snowy nights wrapped up before the fireplace with someone special. But I didn’t have someone special. I’d had fleeting somethings. I’d had fantasies. But not much more. Nothing ever seemed to turn into forevers, only here-and-nows. Gone tomorrows. Just as this would, too. I had no doubt. Noelle was way out of my league. I’m surprised he agreed to the night of hot sex we planned. But at least this time it would be at my choosing, not someone else’s. It was me who had suggested the just-sex angle. It could be fun, I’d said.

Noelle shrugged. “If you don’t like the name, you can call me whatever you like.”

I couldn’t read him. He was perfect, but I sensed something beneath the surface. Something I couldn’t quite put my finger on. He glanced down—down at my cock. Hard beneath my trousers.

“N-Noelle is fine. I like it,” I said. I loved it. But I couldn’t tell him that. I did wonder if the name was real or made-up. “Y-you can call me…” I took a deep breath, “Jeffrey.” There, I’d done it. I’d given him my real name. Well, my middle name actually. It was still better than AchyHeart1945.

His lashes fluttered upward as he looked up at me. “Can I touch you, Jeffrey?” he asked in a steamy, flirtatious, sort of coyish manner. I sensed he’d done this before.

Oh, God, if my cock could get any harder—impossible. “Yes. Please.”

From his lips against mine, open-mouthed, tongue searching, to the feel of his strong, warm hands inside my pants, gripping my cock, time spun out of control.

“Mmm, hard already,” Noelle said. “I like that. Let’s get you undressed. I’m thinking you need to put that somewhere tight and warm. Do you want to fuck me, Jeffrey?”

Releasing February 7th, preorder now on Amazon

 

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