Strong And Sexy Week Starts At The White House
It’s Strong and Sexy Week at LadySmut where we’re celebrating all things hot and fierce — from Femme Dommes to alpha males. from what makes us feel virile and courageous to what does not. To start, here’s a free excerpt from Elizabeth SaFleur‘s latest, The White House Gets A Spanking where a Femme Domme finds herself in the most famous house in the world and, perhaps, discovers the alpha submissive male she’s dreamed of for six, long years.
“Tell me Samson—I should call you that?” Stella placed her hand over his fingers that he drummed on his leg.
“You can call me anything you want.”
“Samson then. What are you looking for?”
He blinked up at her. “Dominance.” He phrased it like a question as if she was either an idiot to ask such a thing or he wasn’t sure what that meant. She chose the latter.
“And what does this dominance look like? When you are in complete surrender in your mind, the thoughts you have late at night when you’re alone in bed playing with yourself . . .” she stilled his fingers once more. “Yes, Samson, when you are touching yourself, what is she doing?”
She didn’t need to ask him if he’d thought of her as he jacked off. She knew he did. He wouldn’t have come looking for her otherwise. And, his little gifts throughout the week were finally the right messages she’d sought.
“I haven’t. Touched myself.”
She cocked her head. “You’re telling the truth?”
“I always tell the truth.” His gaze shot to her.
“You forget I’ve been to your briefings.”
“I have never lied to the press.”
“Oh, the Assistant Press Secretary is ill? Or in bed with a certain someone?”
His nostrils flared. “Okay, I touched myself. But I didn’t—”
“You didn’t relieve yourself? Why not? Did Hannah forbid it until she got back?” If she had, that would have been another useful bit of information his former Domme should have shared.
His expression sank a little. “No, she didn’t forbid it.”
“But you wished to prove something to her anyway.”
“No.” He lifted his gaze to her, his eyes beseeching yet clear. “To you.”
Mixed emotion cascaded down her spine: pride, bewilderment, happiness and a little distrust. He still could be playing her. So many did in this town. But Hannah wouldn’t be with a player, despite the fact his job was in the biggest playpen. And, he had shown candor tonight. She’d give him the benefit of the doubt, but she wanted to know more.
He blinked. “You’re different.”
He tossed her a small smile. “I didn’t take you for someone who required flattery.”
“Don’t you dare.” She smiled back at him. “Tell me what you’re looking for. Details, Samson.”
His head swiveled immediately upon her words to see who might be around. Three men were walking by them. He angled himself so he leaned into her more.
“You’re among friends, Samson.”
“I want someone to belong to.”
Now they were getting somewhere.
“Belong,” she repeated, not because she didn’t understand, but because she did. The transience of their worlds—media, politics, Washington itself—wasn’t for someone who required constant reassurance. Comfort wasn’t on the menu. But if one’s nature was in direct contrast with who one had to be on the outside, well, having a place to be yourself could be very comforting indeed. Who didn’t long to be themselves, devoid of pretense, pseudonyms, false identities and the niceties everyone must adopt in D.C.?
“What do you want?” he asked.
“I’ll tell you. But, first, tell me more about this belonging.”
His eyes didn’t get that dreamy cast like so many other submissives when they paint their ideal fairytale. His eyes grew fierce.
“You would tell me what to do, of course. We are equals but you understand my need to serve you. You’d love . . . having me. It would be a shared experience.”
His unwavering clarity made her sit back against the couch cushions.
“I know watching is not the same as doing,” he said. “But what I’ve seen, well, I can tell the difference between people who are playing and people who are together and playing.”
The man used words for a living, so she shouldn’t be so surprised at his articulation. But the fact he expressed himself exactly as she would have? His answer rendered her nearly speechless.
It didn’t matter if Hannah had told her to watch over him. She wouldn’t turn her back on this man for anything. He wasn’t just rare. He was perhaps once in a lifetime.
“Is that what you want, to be part of a 24/7 couple?” she asked.
“Eventually. But first I have to know what it’s like. To be sure.”
“That’s wise. There is a vast difference between the fantasy and the reality of what we do.”
“I learned that quickly.” His eyes lit up. “It was better.”
Controlling the squirm that rose inside her, she leveled her voice. She was investigating, not seducing. “So you’re hungry for more?”
He nodded and clenched and unclenched his fists. He had something inside seeking release. She took his hand and he seemed to relax.
“You enjoy being handled.” The words just tumbled from her lips.
“Very much so.”
Every fiber of her being wanted to handle him. Her mind spun with all the possibilities about the apparatus she could connect him to while strapping open his ass cheeks and plugging him, playing with his cock, and making those delectable lips do all kinds of things to her. . . . She told her imagination to take five. There was more investigation to do. Her lady parts complained bitterly.
Stella took a long breath and squared her shoulders toward him. “I wish to see you again. Do you wish to see me again?”
“Yes, but . . .” He leaned forward. “. . . we’re here now.”
She smiled. She could so easily tell him to drop to his knees, crawl with her as she scoped out a quiet corner for them, test him out a little. Perhaps a short spanking scene or binding him with his own clothes and asking him to service her.
She loved to delay sating a man’s lust until he couldn’t take it anymore, and then let him unleash on her, give her pleasure while taking his own. She once thought she’d found such a man. But, no, her last submissive lover had to end things because his wife had found out—a spouse tucked away in Northern Virginia that she didn’t know he had. This time she would be wiser.
“Tonight, we just talk,” she said.
“Hannah has already told me it’s fine, but if you wish to speak to her—” He stopped abruptly likely due to her face coloring. He’d spoken to Hannah, and Hannah hadn’t bothered to call her back? Then again, Samson was under her charge at least some of the time. She would feel obligated to return his call.
“I’m glad she called you.” Sort of. “And, you asked her about me?” She parted her legs a bit more and let one thigh rest against his. Man, he had muscles.
“I said that we saw each other at work, and you were generous in offering to accompany me here.”
Generous? Hardly. Want for the man would make fulfilling Hannah’s request the easiest thing she’d done in years.
She stood and held out her hand. “Let’s take a little walk.”
Pre-Order The White House Gets a Spanking at the discount — $0.99. Releases September 15.
Blurb: Stella Martin, reporter, single, Femme Domme meets the submissive of her dreams in Laird Harkness. Only problem, he’s the assignment she loathes to take. As the White House Communications Director, Laird’s secret desires could end his career. Stella calms his fears, as she sates his craving to submit, serve and belong to someone, but the balance of work and play is a hard line to walk.
Enter Elizabeth’s Rafflecopter giveaway in honor of this new release.
Elizabeth SaFleur is an award-winning author of contemporary erotic romance. Many of her books were inspired from her thirty years as a PR practitioner in and around Washington, DC — where she learned not all power in D.C. is wielded by politicians. She writes, tweets and posts under a pseudonym since her business clients might be (WOULD be) shocked at her new career choice. When not writing, she’s dancing or drinking good wine. Life’s too short for bad wine. And, if her house were to catch fire, she’d grab 3 things: her furry baby, a Westie; her laptop; and her Sally Rand, 5-feet wide, ostrich feather burlesque fans — in that order. (Words of wisdom she shares with everyone: it’s never too late to learn to dance with fans and boas.)