Ah, the man. I don’t know about y’all, but I crave the men in the book. I know I should be more feminist and want the woman’s story more, but I’m not. I want the man. It’s all about the man in books for me. I want the hot, overbearing, pain in the ass, bend the girl over his knees, force her down to hers, stomping around, my way or the highway male protagonist. I want the his hard and unbending. I want him deep, and sexually kinky, and full of dominance that borders or runs parallel to his arrogance. I want him to own the heroine completely until she’s nothing but a quivering mass of goo. That’s the kind of hero I look for in books and if you’ve got one that is any different, I’m likely not going to read the book.
We all have different things we want in our heros that grace the pages of the books we love. The above is simply what I want in the heros I read and the ones that I write. This kind of man is not for everyone, and likely not even for most. But, he’s the kind of man for me.
I’m pulling a character I adore from the back of the pack. The book is Educating Rose and his name is Jack. He was my first hero and I adore him. He was based on a Dominant man in the BDSM lifestyle that I knew well and though some readers have hated him and wanted to gut him with knife, other readers have loved him. I happen to adore his heavy-handedness…
Jack watched as Rose walked down the hall. He couldn’t understand what it was about her that intrigued him. And now more than anything, he couldn’t wait to get his hands on her again. Her curves were lush, her eyes bright, and her lips… Her lips were full and just begged to be wrapped around a hard cock. His hard cock.
But still, none of that made her any more special than any other women.
There was something though. He couldn’t get his mind off of her, and his cock throbbed with need for the mousy, slightly overweight librarian.
For a moment he simply stood there, thinking, trying to reason with himself. If he started thinking of her in those unflattering terms, perhaps he could stop thinking about her altogether and get back to the more beautiful, younger, less complicated women he preferred.
His body recalled the way she’d responded to him, had thrust against him. She’d been ready, wet and hot for him. And her silken tightness… The memory sent a shiver of lust down his spine. He reached down, readjusted his dick, and forced himself to follow in her footsteps down the hallway. It was almost time for his first class of the day to begin, and the girl in the first row, third seat on the left, had a great deal of extra credit potential.
A grin split his face. Oh, yes, potential. Twenty-something girls with no expectations, no lingering thoughts, no nothing but pure fucking pleasure. That’s what he was missing, what he needed to get back to doing, what he needed to stop himself from thinking about Rose.
Rose, with her books and pixie face and lush curves and untapped sexuality. Rose, with her innocent, dark-chocolate eyes full of untold sensual depths.
No, he didn’t need to think about her and was, in fact, not going to think about her anymore. He was done. Period.
“Jack? Professor Duncan?”
Jack started out of his musings at the soft female voice. He looked down into the face of Mindy, the first row student in his British history class. He tried for a smile, for a speck of interest. He managed only to be annoyed, his stance impatient, his gaze darting here and there, anywhere but at her. What the hell was wrong with him? Wasn’t she what he wanted just moments ago? When was he going to get off this topsy-turvy roller coaster?
“Will you be available after class?”
Her sugar-sweet tone. Her long, blonde hair. Her delectably young, slender body with long legs and firm tits, irritated him. Frustrated him. And not the good kind either. Not the I want to jump your bones kind of frustrated. No, it was the get the hell away from me kind of frustrated.
“No, I’m sorry. I have a prior engagement today.”
“Oh. Well, okay then.” Disappointment deflated her smile.
“Perhaps another time,” he said as she turned and headed into the classroom. He walked in and closed the door. The clock on the wall said it was nine in the morning. A whole damned hour to go before he could see Rose again.
What a day this was turning out to be.
* * * * *
“I’m going to take these books upstairs, Rona.”
“Sure, doll. Take your time.”
Time. Right. If she kept busy, she wouldn’t think about him. Well, okay. She wouldn’t think about him all that much. Just every other second that ticked by. But, if she didn’t keep busy, if she just wandered around, mindlessly inputting data, checking books in, or walking up the stairs to the third floor stacks as she was now, he was in her thoughts more than once every millisecond.
On the landing, she turned and walked to the very last row of shelves. The large windows overlooked the university grounds—the green grass of the commons, the imposing brick façade of the administration building, and the classical stone building that housed the History Department.
History was the subject Jack Torrence had been a professor in at the university for a number of years after having toured the country, giving lectures on his two areas of expertise…world history, and alternative sexuality. The one lecture she’d attended had been a very casual discourse on the BDSM lifestyle. There hadn’t been a reason she’d gone with her friends other than it was just something to do one night. While they hadn’t seemed interested in anything other than sitting in judgment, she found herself turned on by his dominant energy and the sexual power evident in everything he said, in every move he made.
Until that night, she’d never given thought to BDSM, but since then, she hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it, feeling drawn to it.
“Lost in thought, Rosie?”
So far gone in her thoughts, she turned to face him without first masking her emotions.
Jack groaned and curled his hands into fists. “God, girl. Don’t. Don’t look at me like that.”
Rose couldn’t speak. She could only stare up at him with lust and want shimmering inside her. The desire for him before their encounter earlier that morning had been a slow throb of wishful hunger, but since then, every moment was no longer slow, or throbbing, or wishful. The hunger had become a painful awareness of need that gathered between her legs. She knew her eyes couldn’t hide it, that he could see it. And right then, she didn’t care.
The memory of him talking about bondage and sexual domination floated through her mind. His comments of the soul being freed when surrendered to the will of another tugged at the very heart of her.
The words were a whisper, barely a movement of her lips, but Jack heard them.
He didn’t have to ask what she meant. He’d known her true nature the moment he’d met her. And if he was honest with himself, which he didn’t want to be, he’d admit her nature, the submissive heart in her, was the reason he couldn’t get her out of his mind. It was the reason she was under his skin so far without ever having said or done anything untoward. It was the reason he felt threatened, the reason he lashed out at her. He couldn’t go back to that place, but his want of her dragged him there.
“I can’t. I left that world behind me.”
As the words left his mouth, he saw the heat in her eyes fade, and his chest ached. Without thought, he leaned down and kissed her, vowing not to touch her in any other way for fear he’d come undone. He couldn’t stand the thought of a wall between them now, not after the storeroom and her orgasm. At the same time, he needed a wall between them…thick and impenetrable. First, though, he had to kiss her.
His tongue slid into her mouth, and he marveled at her wanton response. The perfect melding of tongue and lips. She matched his strokes, and when he sucked hard at her tongue, the groan that escaped her throat buckled his resolve.
Jack reached out and gripped her shoulders, pressing her back against the bookshelves. He slowly slid his hands down her arms until they reached her wrists. Wrapping his fingers tightly around them, he drew them behind her back, holding her trapped between his body and the wood behind her. “Is this what you want?”
His mouth was inches from hers. He watched as she tried to speak, and her eyes slowly opened. She nodded her head.
Jack’s mouth closed over hers again, and his fingers tightened around her wrists. He drank her in, stealing her breath, giving her his own. His heart beat hard against hers, and she arched into his body, pressing herself as close as she could possibly get with the barriers of clothing between them. He would end up taking her as though she were an alley slut, up against the wall, in plain view of anyone looking up through the windows. If he didn’t care about himself in that manner, he needed to care about her.
He pulled his mouth from her and let go of her wrists. He stepped back and watched as she tried to compose herself. She raised her gaze to him for a second time that morning, and his gut twisted so tightly he nearly dropped to his knees.
“No. I can’t give it to you, Rose. Stay away from me. I can’t give you what you want. I can’t be what you need.”
Without a backward glance, he walked away.
Jack sat staring into the fire, listening to the rain falling outside the cottage. He needed to get a handle on his emotions. For the entire day, he’d introduced Rose to the lifestyle that he loved so much. He’d flogged her, bound her, and gagged her. He’d bathed her then endured as she’d bathed him, ending up on her knees with his dick in her mouth, sperm shooting down her throat again. He’d put her on her hands and knees to crawl behind him as he led her by collar and leash inside the house and outside in the yard, drawing excitement and humiliation from her. She’d been put through her paces, and he’d used her hard, pushing her, testing her, and she’d never once uttered her safe word.
He was in his element, lust and need penetrating every pore of his being. This was where he belonged, towering over a kneeling girl that had surrendered herself body and soul to him. Rose was that girl. She’d proven herself over and over and was eager for more.
She had re-awakened him, the dormant dominant that he thought long dead.
She would pay with more bliss than she could ever have imagined.
He looked down. Rose lay at his feet, her fingers lazily stroking the drenched folds of her pussy while her full tits swayed with clothespins adorning her nipples. She’d hissed in protest at first, but it had only spurred her on to higher heights of pleasure. He’d allowed her a nap between their sessions of play, and for that privilege she now masturbated for him. She no longer stammered in his presence. She was no longer shy about being naked in front of him. And she was beginning to feel the ache more and more. The slut in her clawed to get out as evidenced by the wetness he’d touched and tasted for more than twenty-four hours.
Lifting his booted foot, he settled it lightly on her stomach. He caught the arousal in her eyes when she looked up at him. Her fingers kept up their teasing until he slid his boot down to meet them, placing the pointed metal toe on her clit. She sucked in her breath and moaned.
“Yes,” she whispered.
She responded with scorching heat every time he touched her, and every time he looked at her, his heart kicked into high gear. He rubbed his boot back and forth on her clit, and she humped up against the rough sole.
“Shameless little slut,” he murmured, more pleased than he could say. He was an accomplished lover, skilled in things the average man would balk at, expert in things the women in his life secretly hungered for. But this girl writhing on the floor left him hungering, left him coveting.
And he coveted her virginity. He coveted being her first cock. He coveted being the first to come inside her body. He coveted being the one and only man to possess every inch of her. Mind, body, and soul.
He removed his boot from her body and was rewarded with a whimpered plea. “Crawl into the bedroom, girl, on your hands and knees.”
“Sir, please, please…”
He forced himself not to smile. Her pleading was so adorable in the face of being taken to the edge and not pushed over.
“I will not say it again, Rose.”
The pout that ensued would at another time have resulted in a discipline session, but not this time. His desire for her wouldn’t allow it. He would control his ardor later. He promised himself this. But for now…
I need a glass of wine now. Who else wants one? And check out the snippets from the following awesome authors:
It’s Friday! Yay! Of course, the weekends for me are just more of the same as my days of the week so…
I have emailed all the authors that were giving ebook presents with the list of names of their winners that were picked through Random.org. If you are on this list, you should be hearing from the author beside your name within a few days.
Carol B. – Reveal Me from Cari Quinn
Terri Lee – Entangled Trio from Cat Grant
Patti – Old School from Eve Cassidy
Maria D. – any one available title from Selena Blake
Elaing8 – Bullhandler from Morgan Sierra/Dee Carney
Janeen – Wrapped Around Your Finger from Fallon Blake
Susan C. – His Client from Ava March
Leni – any one available title from Madison Chase
Amanda – any one available title from Mari Freeman
Jolene – any one available erotica title from Cara McKenna
Slav – any one available title from Samantha Kane
Miranda – autographed print copy of From Thirty Days to Forever from Shayla Kersten
Eve – any one available title from Vivian Arend
Donna – any one available title from Eliza Gayle
Nancy G – any one of my available titles
Estella – any one of my available titles
Cindy L. – any one of my available titles
I have been working this week on Forever in Blue Jeans. It’s going slow. If any of you recall, about 3 months ago, the word count was very close to complete, however now if you look to the sidebar you’ll see it’s not anymore. I have deconstructed it. About 3-4 times. I didn’t like it. As I’d said before, I was trying to write a safe book, but that just wasn’t working for me. I ended up hating it. It was work and it wasn’t fun and it wasn’t a story that was working for me as the writer. I have talked endlessly to my dear friend Fallon Blake about it and I know she was ready to throttle me. I took a long break from it and when I came back, I had a new plot. I took the old plots apart, kept a few things, but tossed so much more and it’s being completely re-written now. I don’t think 35,000 is going to be the final word count. It’ll be longer, I’m fairly certain, but how much longer, I’m not sure. Just know that I’m working on it. Blue is going to get her story written if it kills me…
You’ll see I’m also slowly, very slowly working on a number of books over there on the sidebar. Earlier today another couple plots invaded my thoughts and are begging to be put down into words. It would appear that my muse has returned and brought reinforcements. YAY!
Drive Shaft is the second book to follow Stick Shift and it is about Alli, one of Lily’s friends.
Get Lost is a contemporary m/f about a woman that just loses it when pushed too far and retreats into the mountains.
Too Bad is Jackie and Mac’s story from Ink Spots.
Polar Shift is the second book in the Denali Heat Series, and this one is Patrick’s story.
Bound for Pleasure is a BDSM m/f that is the second book in a series y’all haven’t heard of yet from me. It follows one couple from a set-up reunion meeting through different stages and explorations in a relationship. More on that one later. It is a different kind of story for me and one that my mainstream readers may not care for due to the heavier BDSM content.
And as I said, there are others playing around in my head that I will get to as soon as I can, including a loose plan to write a longer story for Thor and Bobby from my free read, Masked.
I hope all of you are doing well and be sure to check in for Snippet Saturday tomorrow. Have a great weekend!
And the winners are…
Using random.org and a master list of all that commented on all the blog posts associated with my Birthday Bash. A lot of work people. A. Lot. Of. Work. But well worth it.
I am still compiling winners names for the ebooks that authors have said they will happily gift and you will be receiving an email if you are chosen…
At the moment though…
*drum roll please* (Imagine the scene in National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation of them all out on the lawn at night and Clark about to plug in the extension cords and says ‘drum roll’)
The winner of Leila Brown’s hero contest with a copy of Solstice Heat and a $10 Amazon gift card is: Cathy M.
The winner of $15 in All Romance eBooks eBook bucks from Diana and Tanya of The Forbidden Bookshelf is: Joder
The winner of the cupcake kitchen towel and magnetic notepad is: Terri Lee
The winner of the cupcake measuring spoon set is: Ivelisse
The winner of the Victoria’s Secret Kissable Whipped Body Creme is: Jen B.
The winner of the flip flop wine coasters is: Foretta
The winner of the $25 Starbuck’s gift card is: Susan R.
The winner of the $40 Amazon.com gift card is: Fedora
The winner of the $25 Eden Fantasy’s gift card is: Elaing8
And finally, the winner of a $25 Amazon.com gift card and the Amazon Kindle is: Danielle Gorman
Congrats to all! I will be emailing you today to get mailing addresses and presents will go out on Friday, March 11th.
I am so excited to give y’all presents! Thank you so much for allowing me to…
Openers. Lines or scenes. This is our topic today.
Sometimes, I hate the opening of a book, either reading or writing one. I want something that will pull me in with the first word. I want something that won’t map out the entire book for me in just a few lines. I want the tone to be real, to be something someone would do or say, to be different, to be shocking, to be wicked and naughty.
I’ve asked a friend for her opinion of my books and the openings and she picked, as I knew she would, Cracklin’ Rosie. It’s a personal favorite of both hers and mine. We understand Rosie in ways that I guess most don’t…
“Rose!” Decker pulled up alongside her and called out her name through the open window. When she didn’t acknowledge him or his beat up work truck, he called out again. “Rose!”
She finally turned, pulled the bright green earbuds from her ears, and cocked her hip out to the side with her hands on her waist. “The name is Rosie. Not Rose. R. O. S. I. E. Rosie. Now, you try it.”
She gestured toward him, and he grinned. She hated being called Rose. He didn’t think there was a real reason why, but after a few days he’d learned that she wasn’t going to respond to anything with any kind of delicious heat unless he called her Rosie. “Rosie. Better?”
She grinned back. His dick hardened, and his heart melted. He wasn’t sure what it was about the curvy, pint-sized waitress that turned him on, but he couldn’t stop thinking about her, wanting her and damn when the roofing job was done, he was going to figure out her weakness and get her into bed with him.
“Yes, better. What do you want, Decker? I’m on my way to work and don’t want to be late. Besides, you’re blocking traffic.”
Decker laughed and shook his head. There was no traffic in the small town at this ungodly hour of the morning because everyone was either still asleep or having a nice leisurely breakfast down at the diner. “I stopped to see if you’d like a ride to work.”
“It’s only about a half mile down the road. I think I can make it. Thanks. And you’re going in the wrong direction anyway.” She started walking again, summarily dismissing him. He drove up to the next street and turned around. When he pulled up alongside her again, she didn’t wait until he’d shouted her name to look at him. She kept walking though.
The way her peach-colored dress pulled across her hips and ass when she walked did nothing to sway his libido in any direction other than the current where’s-the-nearest-flat-surface one. The bodice hugged her breasts in just the right way, not too tight, not too loose, but dear Lord in heaven she had a beautiful pair. He hadn’t seen them naked yet, but he had a pretty good imagination and it told him that she’d overflow his hands and respond so well to the teasing tip of his tongue.
She had pretty, blemish free skin, save for the few freckles dotting her nose and cheeks. She walked to work every day, too, and had strong-looking legs. She wasn’t thin, slender or skinny. She had too many curves for that, which suited him just fine. He didn’t go for the rail thin, magazine-size women. Never had and it was too bad that L.A. was all about skinny and bikini and boy hips. He didn’t go for the centerfold type either. He’d always been partial to real women that took care of themselves but weren’t afraid to indulge in real food and that had a little extra flesh. It marked up so well to his spankings, floggings, whippings. They could take a real good fucking, too, and he wasn’t afraid he’d break them in half. Oh yeah, Miss Rosie was perfect for him. He just had to convince her of that.
“Why are you following me? Aren’t you supposed to be working on my house?”
She was still walking but had looked in his direction as she spoke. “I’m not following you. I’m walking you to work. Sort of.”
“Cute. You don’t have to. I can make it there on my own.”
“I know, but I wanted to. What’s wrong with that? Ever hear of something called chivalry? Did you wake up on the wrong side of the bed this morning?”
Was that a blush he saw coloring her cheeks? “You seem a little grumpy.”
“Oh. Well, I’m not grumpy. I just don’t like to talk in the mornings.”
“You’re in the wrong line of work then, aren’t you? Don’t you have to talk to people?”
“That’s different. I prefer not talking to anyone on my way to work.”
“Kind of like your alone time? Gearing up for the day ahead?”
“Exactly.” Her face brightened in the early morning sun. “That’s exactly what it’s like. Thanks for understanding. Now, go away.”
“Afraid I can’t do that. We’re too close to the diner, and I’m suddenly famished. I need a good breakfast before I start my day. As they say, breakfast is the most important meal.”
She stopped then, and he put on the brakes. He was a little surprised when she pulled open the door and climbed up into the cab of the truck. She slammed the door and stared straight ahead with her arms crossed over her chest. “Fine. Take me to work so I can get you some food and then you can get me a roof.”
Decker grinned again. Hell, he’d been grinning since he woke up and realized the hard-on he was sporting was all because of her. Then, he spotted her walking this morning and knew he was in danger of that grin being a permanent fixture on his face He couldn’t remember another woman with that effect on him. Ever.
Rosie was special.
When Buck, one of his best friends, contacted him about a roofing job and new business opportunity, Decker had packed his gear, grabbed the keys to his truck and headed out. He didn’t stay in one place very long, liked travel, liked seeing different parts of the country and Buck’s call had come at just the right time.
During the last storm, a branch had dropped from a tree outside Rosie’s little cabin and straight through the roof into the kitchen, leaving a large gaping hole.
He was replacing the old shingled roof with a beautiful red metal one. The red would stand out against the green mountain countryside the cabin was nestled in. Surrounded by trees, the dark worn wood would take on a whole new life with the red.
“I think I know what the problem is,” he said quietly.
“What the problem is with what?”
She turned her head sharply in his direction. Dark auburn tendrils of hair framed her face while the rest was pulled back in a ponytail that hung against the top of her dress collar. He rarely saw her without her hair up or pulled back, but then he rarely saw her anywhere other than the diner.
He’d been in town for two weeks and had taken to her like a fish to water. He was hooked and wasn’t afraid to admit it.
“Me? What the hell are you talking about?”
“The problem is that you want me. You’re trying to deny it, trying to fight it. It’s making you really grumpy.”
She dipped her head, looked up at him from under her lashes and over the bronze metal frame of her glasses. “I want you?”
“If I wanted you, shouldn’t it make me happy rather than grumpy?”
Decker shook his head and pulled into the diner drive, parking in a spot directly in front of the door. He shifted in his seat to look at her, hooking his arm over the steering wheel. “Not if you don’t want to want me. Which, I can’t imagine why you wouldn’t. I mean, I’m rather amazing.”
He puffed out his chest and tilted his head in profile like the kings of old he’d seen painted in portraits. The next thing he heard was the slamming of the truck door for the second time that morning. Rosie stood on the ground, scowling and trying to fight a laugh. Her lips were quivering, and her beautiful eyes were crinkled at the corners. He drove her crazy and he liked it, was proud of it, but after two weeks of her fighting the heat and attraction between them, the time had come to make some forward progress.
“Well, let me put your mind at ease before you hurt yourself preening like a peacock. I do want you. I want you so much I can’t sleep at night because when I do manage a little of it, I dream about you. It’s driving me nuts. You—,” she pointed a finger at him, “—are driving me nuts.”
He sat there stunned and speechless, nothing coherent forming in his mind beyond the admission that she wanted him. Her words played over and over in his head as he stared at her, mute.
“I’m going inside now. When you’ve gotten your wits about you again, come on in and I’ll get you some food so you can go work on my house and get the hell out of my life. Okay?”
She turned on her heel and walked up the concrete steps, flung open the glass door, and went through, out of sight. She wanted him. She’d said so and even though he’d already known it, her admitting it…well there were no sweeter words at the moment.
She said she dreamed about him too.
Of course, then she’d said she wanted him out of her life. No way, no how. Not after that confession, no matter how grudgingly given. She was stuck with his happy ass now.
Have a wonderful Saturday and don’t forget to check out the following authors with Opening snippets of their own: