Excerpt:
She felt vulnerable now that she’d gotten naked, but she knelt, knees spread, pussy open, hands resting on her thighs, her gaze fixed on the floor. Just when she thought he’d changed his mind about their scene, she heard him stand and move behind her. He fastened a blindfold over her mask, and her world went black.
The darkness disoriented her, but Master Erik brushed his lips against hers. That brief, gentle touch set the wild horses in her stomach rearing up and pawing the air. She heard his clothes rustle as he moved in front of her. Gently, he lifted her left hand to his lips and kissed her palm.
Coco Starr hitched in a breath as he fastened fur-lined handcuffs around her wrists. He took a moment to check they didn’t dig into her flesh. The deep rumble of his voice delighted her when he told her, “Stand up.”
With her hands fastened before her, she had difficulty rising, so he took hold of one elbow and helped her to her feet. His hands slid down to her hips as he walked her forward. “Arms over your head.”
She stretched upward as instructed. Despite her heels, she had to go on her tiptoes for him to loop the handcuff chain over the hook in the ceiling. Once the chain settled, she felt vulnerable as she teetered on her high heels.
He positioned her carefully, spreading her legs wide, then backed off again. She didn’t move, but her heart beat so loud she could hear nothing except her blood pounding in her veins. Nervous, excited, body on fire for his touch, she waited.
Listening hard, she wondered what Master Erik would do next. She heard his footsteps as he crossed the black-and-white tiled floor, followed by swishing sounds. He’d collected a flogger from the far wall. Although they’d agreed on this, she’d never been flogged before. Her nerves jangled as she anticipated his next move. When the flogger hit her skin, would it be soft and gentle or firm enough to make her back feel like he lashed it with tongues of fire?
Time moved in slow motion. Letting her Dom make decisions for her was a blessed release from her everyday persona. Her spine still tingled, part with nerves, part with anticipation. Not knowing what to expect felt…arousing. Her pussy grew damp, and she hovered on the edge of orgasm.
His breath felt warm on her neck as he palmed her breasts. The way he stroked and caressed them made her nipples peak. He chuckled and slipped tweezer clamps on each breast in turn. They felt heavy and tight, pulling her breasts down. When she wriggled and tried to find a better balance, bells tinkled on the ends of the clamps.
“Sweet music,” Master Erik whispered in her ear.
He stepped back, and she felt the soft caress of suede run down her spine. The slightly furred feel of it against her skin made her sigh in her bonds. A shiver ran from her head to her toes, making the bells clamped on her nipples chime like a fairy song.
More about Kryssie Fortune
Kryssie is never seen without her kindle. She reads everything and anything she can get her hands on. When she discovered hot, sexy reads, she felt like she’d found her home. The only books she hates are the ones that end with a cliff hanger or have unhappy endings.
Kryssie tries to set her stories in places she’s explored. Hopefully, it adds color to her writing. Anything can spark a story idea. Sometimes she takes liberties though. The North Yorkshire town of Whitby is one of her favorite places. To keep the details of her imaginary town, Westhorpe Ridge consistent, she mentally shunted Whitby over the Atlantic and renamed it Westhorpe Ridge.
When not writing, Kryssie loves to walk on the beach of home town, Bridlington, or potter in her garden. Popping down to London to see her family is her favorite thing to do.
Kryssie currently has thirteen books on general release along with a boxed e-book of the first three Westhorpe Ridge stories. All her stories are M/ F or M/M/F. All are edited by publishing houses in either the UK or the USA. While her stories sizzle with sex, plot comes before bed. Life’s always an adventure in Kryssie’s world
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Email: Kryssie.Fortune@aim.com