Tag Archives: Elite Doms of Washington

Romance, Intrigue, Bondage! Sexy Snippet from Lucky

4 Jun

by Elizabeth SaFleur

Today’s Sexy Excerpt comes from Lucky, an Elite Doms of Washington book. Expect intrigue, romance and BDSM elements in this series that shows not all power in D.C. is wielded by politicians.

Lucky is the fourth story in the series, but each book is a stand-alone with no cliff-hangers.

About the story

When a man tells you who he is believe him.

Wealthy entertainment investor and resolute bachelor Derek Damon Wright learned at a young age women were trouble. He’s unprepared for dancer Samantha Rose who walks into his thirteenth, Washington DC nightclub opening with an authenticity and passion for life that quickly rocks his jaded, albeit privileged, world.

Samantha, an aerial artist and dance studio owner, hasn’t been lucky in love, and falling for the charismatic and Dominant Derek won’t draw her closer to her greatest dream of  having a baby. Yet she’s helpless to resist his charm and sophisticated world of private jets, Caribbean islands and the sexual pleasures of dominance and submission.

As their whirlwind romance progresses, past mistakes rise up to threaten their future. Only when they rely on each other for safe haven do they find the answer to their dreams.

~~~ Excerpt ~~~

With deft fingers, he lowered her zipper. The faint zlip was the only sound to accompany the tick-tock of the clock on the sideboard credenza.

Straps fell over her shoulders followed by her dress falling to the ground. The scratch over her belly awoke something inside her. She turned so she could see his eyes, more gray when before they’d been blue-green.

Freed from the armor of her dress, everything about him seemed larger than she recalled. His height was greater, his shoulders broader. The pronounced angles in his face drew more elegant lines than she’d appreciated earlier. Even that gentlemanly vibe he threw off was grander.

On the drive home, she had tried to talk herself out of going any further with him.

She’d listed what little she knew about Derek Wright: kind but direct, confident but with unsettled eyes, normal yet breathed the rarefied air of a privileged world.

In the car, she came down to one reason to be here with him, right now, like this, with her dress puddled at her feet. She wanted to be.

His hands reached around her ribcage. His eyes never left her face as he unsnapped her bra with one hand.

“Wow.” She hadn’t meant to say it aloud. But his bra removal skill, and resulting smirk from her remark, said he probably could do many other things with those hands. She was going to find out. Her bra made a soft slap as it hit the ground.

When his gaze locked on the sight of her bare breasts, a deluge of feminine power solidified her earlier decision.

He would honestly appreciate her. Respect wasn’t anything she’d thought of before, not really. What a mistake, because now as she stood before a man who honored her thoughts and feelings, respect was all she could think of.

“Wow, indeed.” He reseated her on the table. He leaned his hands on either side of her legs and gazed down at her intently for one, endless minute.

“You like?” she asked.

He grasped her ass and yanked her to the edge so her crotch connected with his. “I like.”

So did she, because now she knew his size. Cindy would have been impressed.

His hands cradled her face. As his fingers massaged the back of her skull, his eyes roamed over every inch of her heated cheeks.

“Do you like surprises?” he asked. “Cameras notwithstanding.”

“Love them.”

“Good. This one time I’m going to tell you what I’m going to do. Next time, I won’t.”

There was going to be a next time? “Okay.”

“First, I’m going to kiss you so hard you’ll lose your ability to stand. You’ll be short of breath. Your world will become my mouth.”

Good start.

“Then I’m going to rip that thong off you. I’ll send something tomorrow to replace it. But only so I can rip it off again because I know one thing, Samantha Rose.”

“What?” she breathed.

“Once I’m inside you, I’m going to want to be there all the time. Deep inside.” On his last words, he ground his pelvis against her now soaked panties.

Yes, please.

His mouth came down on hers. He did rude things with his lips and tongue. True to his word, she was breathless by the time he stopped.

His fingers wound their way through her hair and pulled her head back gently but with intention. The fingers of his other hand slipped into her thong and he yanked–hard. A thrill ran through her whole body at a telltale ripping sound—until the tear stopped. Stupid lycra material. She wanted the fabric to be shredded so he could ravage her like he’d promised.

He chuckled slightly. “Best laid plans . . .”

She choked back a return laugh when he whisked her panties down her legs in a nanosecond. Being stripped of her dress and exposed to him fully, touched a vulnerable place inside her, as if her earlier courage lay in a heap at her feet along with her dress.

“Hey, no fair. I’m naked and you’re not.”

He fisted her hair a little tighter. “We’ll get there.”

“When?” The lights were bright in the kitchen.

“You would be fun to tie up.”

Her mind’s eye wrapped her in a series of rope patterns. She could almost feel the itch. She licked her lips. “Okay.”

His eyes narrowed a bit. “Into bondage, are we?”

“Maybe.” She’d be into anything this man was into because her insides were ready to explode.

“Too bad we don’t have some of that parachute silk here. I could wrap them around these . . .” He regarded one leg. “. . . incredibly luscious legs and keep them still. Though I’d rather like seeing you come undone.” The vision of all the positions he could put them into tumbled into her mind. Yes, please.

He brought his lips and hot breath close to her ear. “And once I have you bound and helpless, how should I take you? Missionary? From behind? Against the wall?” He pulled back to face her. “Or all ways?”

She inched her legs further apart, and nodded.

~~~~~

Derek dropped his hold on her hair and stepped backward. This woman was too good to be true.

Was she fishing for his sexual proclivities? Nothing about her spoke of seeking gossip or blackmail material, and she appeared quite sensitive to that possibility for herself. He dismissed his suspicions.

Was he being careless? Probably. He didn’t care. His cock overruled any over-thinking on that front. He had to be inside this woman. Now.

He supposed he should have stopped to further assess her scene play experience, but where would she have encountered kink? In some kid’s shared apartment with play toy handcuffs and a tickler?

That conversation would come later—and there would be a later. He was certain of that fact given the saucy curiosity he read on her face.

Her inexperience demanding to be overturned intrigued him. She’d called him a gentleman. He was. When shown a door, he’d been taught to open it.

For him, she was a place he hadn’t yet visited or a fantastic book he hadn’t yet read. So much to discover, and not only because she was uncharted territory for him. He got to be new to her.

He unbuckled his belt. After zipping it through the loops, he doubled it in his hand and waited. He assessed her breathing, where her eyes landed, what she did with her hands—all signs of whether she was turned on or scared.

The hungry look in her eyes and her pink tongue reaching out to touch her lip strengthened his resolve to keep going. He wasn’t yet sure if she fueled his dominance on purpose or by accident.

He laid the belt next to her. She didn’t flinch when the leather touched her thigh.

After peeling off his jacket and casually draping it over one of the chairs, he rolled up his shirtsleeves. He stopped her hands from reaching out to touch him.

“No helping, ballerina. Hands back by your sides. Palms on the table.” He purposefully increased the volume of his voice for effect. Her delicious pout made his mouth water. Such beautiful lips.

“You’re going to help me in other ways. In fact . . .” He lowered his zipper. “. . . in many, other ways.”

~~~~~

Lucky is now available for pre-order (discounted). Release date: June 15, 2017!

~~~~~

Elizabeth SaFleur writes contemporary erotic romance and she’s not afraid to get graphic about it  — “it” being the sex, the BDSM or Washington, DC society, which she regularly features in her series, the Elite Doms of Washington. Join her Sexy, Saucy, Sometimes Naughty exclusive reader’s group or follow her on Bookbub and Amazon.

 

Are You Feeling Lucky?

22 May

The Latest in D.C. Discipline Has Arrived

~~~ COVER REVEAL ~~~ PRE-ORDER ~~~

Discounted price of $2.99 until release date of

June 15, 2017!

Simply Sinful Excerpt: Lovely, a BDSM Erotic Romance

25 Nov

by Elizabeth SaFleur

We hope you’re enjoying the LadySmut Simply Sinful Black Friday Reader Event. Below is yet another excerpt for your reading pleasure. (Don’t forget to comment on this or any other post from today to be entered in our giveaway. See details below.)

This snippet is from Lovely, Book #1 in the Elite Doms of Washington series. (All books are stand-alone stories, no cliffhangers.)

Blurb: When nineteen year old Christiana Snow is lured into a summer of sexual submission with charismatic Congressman Jonathan Brond, the relationship promises the adventure she’s been craving and the life he’s been missing. But in unforgiving Washington, D.C. the threat of scandal and gossip always looms.

Lovely_cover

~~~~~Excerpt~~~~~

Jonathan led Christiana outside to his idling black sedan. Mark held open the passenger door as she slipped into the back seat. Jonathan folded himself next to her.

“You said your driver was going to take me home.” Her eyes registered alarm.

“He is. He’s taking me home, too. To my home.”

“My Dad . . . .”

Her words evaporated when he patted her hand. Nothing she could say could possibly make up for her father’s conduct. Peter Snow’s boorish behavior wasn’t her cross to bear though, by the look on her face, she’d likely had a lot of practice.

“Don’t worry,” he said.

Shane popped his head into the still open door. “Congressman, you wanted to see me?”

“Make sure Mr. Snow makes it home safely after the reception, and go over some possible subjects with him for our interview later in the week, would you?”

“Yes, sir.” Shane slipped from sight, and Mark closed the door. The partition rose between Mark and the back seat. Finally some privacy. Christiana slid across the leather closer to him as the car smoothly U-turned in the street.

“I didn’t know Mark was your driver,” she said.

“Among other roles.” He took her hand. “Christiana.”

“Yes?” Her rosy lips parted on an involuntary sigh, and his imagination got the better of his intellect. It took every ounce of control to not crush her to the seat with his body and take her right then and there.

“I shouldn’t have . . . .” He had no right to her. She had not given herself to him. He had yet to even ask, and he shouldn’t. Washington was unforgiving in many matters and getting involved with a nineteen year-old would prove fatal. He already tested the boundaries with his sexual proclivities.

“No, please. Do it again.”

Okay, so he hadn’t scared her off completely with his kiss. He laughed and then tamped down the ferocious protectiveness filling his insides. “I shouldn’t have been so impulsive with you.” He touched her face. She pushed her cheek into his palm, like a kitten might arch into an outstretched hand.

No mistaking, she would test his control. “You really are exquisite.” He dropped his hand and leaned back into his seat.

“Thank you.” Her cheeks turned a beautiful shade of pink, like the inside of a seashell. But just as quickly, all color drained, and her lips pursed. Her hand went to her temple, and she massaged a small circle next to her scar.

“Are you feeling alright?” he asked. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“No, you didn’t. Just a little headache.”

“Give me your hand.” He tugged her even closer to him across the leather seat. Her bare thigh rested alongside his leg. She didn’t pull back at the connection. He pulled one of her slender, warm hands to his lap, palm up. He pressed his finger into the soft fleshy pad below her thumb.

“Acupressure,” he said.

He’d learned how to stave off headaches arising during meetings and hearings. Popping a pill in front of colleagues would be a sign of weakness and used against him.

He stroked her delicate palm and then pulled on each finger. Delicate tendons stretched under his larger fingers. He tried to be gentle.

She leaned her head back and closed her eyes.

He massaged her whole hand, kneading and rubbing until her fingers fell open, splayed out wide, fully receiving his touch.

After pulling her other hand across his leg, her blue eyes opened. He held her gaze with his own as his hands engulfed both her wrists. The tightness around her mouth released. His eyes fell to his lap, where his index fingers and thumbs grasped her pale wrists. His thumbs rubbed across the sensitive thin skin, and she shuddered. She likes having her hands held captive.

“I’d like to take you to dinner. This weekend.”

Her head rose from the headrest and she blinked. “You want to take me to dinner.” Her voice held astonishment.

“A gentleman never asks a beautiful woman for a Saturday and expects her to be free,” he said. “But, you’ll find out, I’m not much of a gentleman.” He released her hands. “I know a little place about an hour outside of Washington. The drive will give us a chance to talk. And I promise not to keep you out too late.”

“No, I—”

“No?”

“No, I mean, don’t worry about being late.”

He smiled. “I have an offer I’d like to discuss.”

Though he had sufficient discipline to pass on this woman if need be, he believed in helping people. He could at least show an interest in her life and help her better navigate the obviously overwhelming situation with her father and the brat socialite. Like a mentor, a voice whispered in his brain. The brain in his pants responded, yeah, right. Who are you kidding?

The car slowed as it pulled up outside her house.

“Feel better?”

“Yes, thank you.”

The color had returned to her cheeks. How pink he could turn other parts of her anatomy… His groin ached.

Mark opened the door and offered his hand to help Christiana from the car.

“I’ve got this, Mark,” he said. The momentary blow of jealousy caused by the thought of Mark touching her startled him.

He eased himself from the car and placed his hand on the small of her back to guide her over the cracked and uneven concrete.

After laying a chaste kiss on the back of her hand, he backed up. “Saturday night. I’ll pick you up at six.” He waited for her to unlock the front door and step inside before walking back to his car.

He slipped into the back seat and took a few deep breaths. Mark eased the car away from the curb, and the privacy screen lowered in a muffled whine.

“Where to, sir?”

“Home. The Oak’s not a good idea tonight.”

“Very good, sir.” The screen rose to separate them.

As they entered the parkway, the traffic sounds quieted. His daydreams took advantage of the renewed silence. Christiana proved irresistible, a delicious smorgasbord of opportunities for pleasure.

So why am I fighting this? She’s of legal age, a girl on the cusp of womanhood. How could I resist her? She’s catnip in a den of lions.

At the reception, he’d seen how the men gawked at her. There were a few in particular he definitely didn’t trust. Her response to his kiss showed how ripe she was for surrender to a Dominant will. If he was right about her submissive nature—and he hadn’t been wrong yet—he’d ensure it was his will.

~~~~~

Want to read more? Find Lovely at all major, online retailers for just 99 cents. Lovely is also available in audio book, narrated by the talented Anastasia Whatley. Warnings: family secrets, liberal abuse of Washington, DC society, dominance/submission, bondage, gags, paddling … you get the picture.

Comment below–or on any post published today, November 25–and be entered to win a Simply Sinful basket of book goodness.

Books! Wine! Bath bombs and soaps! Scones! What more could you need?

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Giveaway closes at midnight (Eastern), November 25, 2016.

Next up in the LadySmut Simply Sinful Reader Event is Kiersten Halle Krum at 7 p.m.

~~~~~

Elizabeth SaFleur writes contemporary erotic romance and she’s not afraid to get a little graphic about it  — “it” being the sex, the BDSM or Washington, DC society, which she regularly features in her series, the Elite Doms of Washington. Join her Sexy, Saucy, Sometimes Naughty exclusive reader’s group or follow her on Twitter and Facebook.

Untouchable, An Erotic Billionaire BDSM Free Read

13 Nov

By Elizabeth SaFleur

Continuing our series of Sexy Sunday Snippets, below is a free excerpt from Untouchable, a billionaire BDSM erotic romance. Wealthy, D.C. corporate attorney Carson Drake is the master of the romantic pre-emptive strike—until he meets London, the woman who tests every assumption he’s ever had about love.

~~~~~

The woman pushed off the railing and made her way to the circular staircase on the far side of the balcony.

Carson left his drink on a side table and proceeded toward the intriguing figure. Why the hell not? Rarely did he approach someone so early in the evening, but she piqued his interest. Perhaps she sought what he did—pleasure with no complications.

That’s why he liked Club Accendos. No hidden agenda. Defined roles. Clear deadlines—usually the end of the night. No one gets hurt. He laughed to himself. Well, not unless they want the pain.

As soon as the woman’s foot hit the second step down, her familiarity clicked into place. Holy hell. London.

In his peripheral vision, he watched another man join his progression toward her. He plowed through the crowd to reach the staircase first. He cut off the other Dominant with a flick of his eye. I’ll fight for this one. The man understood the warning. He walked by, unbothered by the nanosecond exchange.

As soon as London had descended halfway down the stairs, she froze. Her petulant chin lifted as she recognized him. Within seconds, she resumed her descent, her eyes full of her usual bravado.

When London reached the final step, he held out his hand to help her down. “Hello, sugar.”

She ignored his offer and tried to scoot by him. He captured her arm, lightly. He didn’t want to frighten her, merely get her attention. Her eyes flamed with annoyance and blood rushed to his cock.

She raised her chin. “Excuse me, but we haven’t been introduced.” Of course her voice contained her signature, throaty impudence.

He raised his eyebrow. Playing games? Fine. “I’m Carson Drake. Sit and talk?” He leveled his voice to the business tone she’d recognize, less of a Dominant and more of a diplomat.

Her shoulders relaxed a little but her eyes held debate.

He took her hesitation as a “yes.” He circled her waist and led her away from the crowd toward one of the side doors. As a Tribunal Council member, he had a private room—far from any potential interruptions.

London stopped short. “Where are we going?”

“Someplace more quiet.”

“What if I don’t want to?”

“Then you don’t have to.” He dropped his hold on her waist.

“Just talking?”

“Yes. Witnesses saw us leave. You’re safe.”

She let him pull her through a gothic arched door. A bodyguard closed it behind them.

untouchable_cover7

He moved them down an expansive hallway lined with closed doors. Only after ushering her inside the last door at the end did he let go of her elbow. She immediately crossed her arms.

“It’s okay, sugar. I’m not going to hurt you.”

“I’m meeting someone.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, so I can’t stay long.” She worked her bottom lip and shuffled her weight from foot to foot. Her eyes also darted to the bed in the corner. Perhaps she thought he’d take her right away? She knew his identity. She should know he was committed to due diligence. And he had to know why she was here—the last place on earth he’d expect London Chantelle.

He sat in one of two cushioned chairs set before a lit fireplace. He appreciated her luscious curves, beautifully illuminated by the amber glow of the low fire.

“Sit.” He beckoned her to join him.

“I like standing.”

“Sit.” The commanding tones of a Dom brought the expected result. As she lowered herself into the chair, her ponytail licked one shoulder. “Your hair is beautiful in this light,” he said. “More golden brown than I noticed before.”

She swallowed. “Thank you, um . . . I go by Tatiana.”

“It doesn’t suit you. Why not go with, say . . . London?”

Her mouth dropped to an “O” in alarm, and she leapt from her seat.

“Sit. Down.” He pointed to the chair.

“Please.” Her hazel eyes implored lenience, and her tone of voice surprised him. He liked the beseeching quality. It was quite a departure from her customary, unadulterated demand.

“Please what? You thought a simple mask and change of clothing meant I wouldn’t recognize you?”

“I hoped . . . maybe . . . I can’t do this.”

Before she could complete two steps, he’d risen from his chair and laid his hand on her shoulder. She stopped. He pressed his torso against her back, sending her firm ass into his crotch. He decided to like her stiletto boots. He was a tall man and they made her the perfect height. He waited to see if she’d object, at which point he’d back off. She didn’t move.

He pulled off the elastic holding her hair captive. A curtain of gold-laced chestnut silk cascaded free. He brushed her mane to one side and bared her shoulder. “That’s better.”

Her breathing sped up. “You said just talking.”

“Still, sweetness.” He inhaled her scent of Ivory soap and cinnamon Christmas cookies before stepping backward. “We are talking.”

She twisted to face him. “Carson, please . . .”

He liked how her emotions turned in an instant. She’d test his abilities to direct her psychology in a scene. He nearly laughed at himself. How quickly I have her bound and pleasured in my mind. “There. Now that’s a start. I rather like you begging me.”

“I don’t beg.”

And there goes that chin. “We’ll see.” He took another step back. His instincts told him she wouldn’t bolt.

“Take a seat, London.” He returned to his chair. “When you do, hands in your lap. After you listen to me you can decide if you wish to leave. It will be your choice.”

She hesitated, then nestled her behind onto the chair opposite him. She placed her hands in her lap. The thumb of one hand worked the palm of the other.

“Take off your mask. Show me your pretty face.”

She took a deep breath as her elegant fingers slipped off her disguise, pulling the fastening ribbon through her perfect hair. He wanted to capture her cheeks in his hands. He’d rub off the mask indents and erase the worry imprinted on her forehead.

“How long have you been without a master?” he asked.

“I-I’m not . . .” Her jawline hardened. “It’s none of your business.”

“That’s a shame. I’m good at business.” His mouth broke into a smile at the thought of bending her over her desk, papers sticking to her bared breasts, pens falling to the floor. He’d smack her ass with that leather portfolio she carried around like a shield. He wouldn’t stop until her engraved initials imprinted her skin.

“Why did you bring me here?” she whispered.

“You’re looking for a Dom. I’m a Dom looking for a sub.”

She flinched at his final word. “What do you want, Carson?”

What I want. Did it matter? He’d given up what he wanted long ago—a spirited submissive who matched his desires. Someone who might actually stick with him and not drop him the minute a better offer came through. He didn’t allow himself to think finding such a woman was possible anymore.

“Time. Willingness. Pleasure.” He folded his hands and laid his chin on his knuckles. “Now, I want to know what you want.”

“No, you don’t.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Toying with me will not get you anywhere, sweetness.”

“Isn’t that what you are doing with me?”

“Hardly.” He let silence take over the space.

“Then what?” she whispered after long minutes.

“Patience will be your first lesson tonight. Then I’ll consider you.”

Consider me?” She gave him a hardened, fuck-off look.

“Yes. Last time. What do you want?”

He let a few seconds tick by. Then he stood. “If you won’t tell me why you’re here, what you seek, then I can’t help.”

“I-I didn’t mean . . . it isn’t easy . . .”

“You must answer my questions when I ask them. No delay. It’s for your safety and mine.”

Her lips pursed, her signal she realized she was losing. Her sassiness had its usual alluring appeal—futile, but adorable. She licked her bottom lip, the subtle move urging him forward.

“Stand,” he said.

She stood cautiously.

“What is your safeword?” he asked.

“Excuse me? A-a scene. With you? You’re a client. If anything ever got back—”

“Then we would both lose. And I don’t lose.”

“No, You take what you want and damn the consequences.”

“London.” He walked toward her and she backed around the chair. “What are you afraid of? Afraid you might get what you want? Experience what you’ve longed for?”

She let out a huff, but continued to retreat as he advanced. He sent her in a backward circle until she closed in on the canopied bed. Yes, most definitely submissive. The urge to discover how deep her desires ran raged through him like a brushfire.

“How would you know what I long for?” Her haughty chin jutted out.

“I want to know, London. Tell me.”

“Why?” She’d backed up until she connected with the bedpost.

“Fair question. And one I’ll answer. Given you and I dance well together at the boardroom table, why wouldn’t we here? Had I known your proclivities I might have offered. Why didn’t you come to me before?” How had he missed her signs?

“B-but you hate me.”

Now he was puzzled. “No, I don’t. You sometimes . . . irritate, but I could never hate you. Surely you noticed my tendencies.”

“Being a bully in a boardroom does not make you a Dominant I’d be interested in.”

“Ouch, London. That hurt.” He slapped his chest above his heart but kept his face stony.

“I didn’t think you could feel pain.”

“Everyone feels pain.” Her lips parted when he closed the last inch of distance between them. His thighs touched hers, and he softened his voice. “It pleases me you’re here. There’s no use in fighting this chemistry.” He hooked a thumb on his waistband. “One weekend.”

“With you?”

“Yes.”

“What will you do with your harem?”

He unbuckled his belt. “Your second lesson. Don’t force discipline with a smart mouth.”

“I don’t have that kind of time.” She raised her impertinent jawline—again.

Lesson three: discipline your haughty chin.

“Not enough time to learn discipline or not enough time, in general?” The loud rasp of leather yanked through his belt loops sent her attention to his torso.

“What are you doing?” Her panicked gaze shot to his face.

“I don’t have a collar on me.”

“I am wholly disinterested in being collared.”

“One weekend, London.” He grasped one of her hips with his free hand. “If you’re disappointed at any time, you can walk. I’ll never speak of it again. Our work together will go unaffected. No one—and I mean no one—but us will know.”

“Would you put that in writing?” Her eyes filled with mischief.

Priceless. London lured him toward a lightning storm. He could play. Hell, nothing appealed in the moment more than a weekend playing with her. Yes, this is what he wanted. Now he needed to know if she was willing.

“I’ll do one better.” He snaked the belt around her waist until the leather rested against her hips.

“I’m not a notch on a belt.”

“You could never be a notch, London Chantelle. You’re the whole belt, sugar.”

Her face softened, and the playfulness in her eyes died. He recognized the deliberation behind them, the wonder if she’d be safe, here and at work. She needn’t have worried. She might get scared, but mutual satisfaction was the only way his brand of sexual fulfillment worked.

“Say yes or no.” He pressed his torso to her corseted body, the last space between her body and his obliterated. “But say yes.”

“What will happen if I say yes?”

“What you want.  What you’ve probably always wanted.”

Her eyes misted with a surprising vulnerability. “Yes.”

~~~~~

 

What’s next? Read more in Untouchable, an Elite Doms of Washington novel.

Until then follow Lady Smut and get what you’ve always wanted, too.

~~~~~

Elizabeth SaFleur writes contemporary erotic romance and she’s not afraid to get a little graphic about it  — “it” being the sex, the BDSM or Washington, DC society, which she regularly features in her series, the Elite Doms of Washington.

Cover Reveal and Sm3xy Excerpt – Get Your Fire On

16 Jul

No Sexy Saturday Round-Up today. The minion SSRU smutters are taking a little break. Rather, we give you a cover reveal and hot excerpt!

Perfect cover_SaFleur_

Story Blurb
Sometimes the perfect man is the one who’s most forbidden.

After her husband’s death, Isabella Santos fled Washington and its bruising memories. But estate matters force her to return and fate gives her a chance to connect with a man she’d always secretly longed to call Master—Mark, the brother of her late husband. Mark, retired from his black ops career, grabs the second chance Isabella’s sudden appearance in D.C. presents. He’s never forgiven his late brother’s neglect of Isabella, a woman he’s loved from afar for ten years. Now reunited, he’s determined to earn her heart and submission. As their forbidden love blooms, they forge a perfect domestic discipline life that provides a feeling of oneness, completion and a healing of wounds neither knew they had. But her family’s opposition and demons from her husband’s past have different ideas. In the end, Mark must become more than her Master. He must use all his training and skills to become her savior.

~~~~~

How do you like your erotic romance? Five alarm chili-hot or just a little spicy? Personally, I enjoy the heat, which is why this fireplay excerpt from PERFECT, book 3 of the Elite Doms of Washington books, was so much fun to write. This second chance romance includes domestic discipline, as well as a few surprises. Enjoy!

Excerpt from PERFECT, an Elite Doms of Washington erotic romance

Warnings: fireplay and a smexy, adult situation

When Isabella entered the Library, her spine snapped straight. Mark sat in a tall-backed, velvet chair. His arms draped casually over the armrests like a king settled into his throne. He didn’t turn when they entered. His focus remained on a nude, statuesque redhead who lay face-up on a table.

“Who is that woman?” Isabella had to know.

“It’s not what you think, Isabella. Charlotte is under his protection.” Alexander understood her unspoken question. Why is he with her?

A dark haired man peered down at the porcelain-skinned woman. Her fiery hair and lush figure left Isabella feeling small and ordinary, like a daisy to a bird of paradise bloom.

The man turned, dipped two cotton-tipped wands into a shallow dish and then waved them over a pillar candle igniting their ends.

She startled.

Alexander’s arm descended on her shoulders. “You’ve seen fire play before?”

“Yes. I’m not—”

“Fond of fire. Do you wish to leave?”

“No.” She jerked her gaze to his face.

Alexander cocked his head at her vehement tone.

“I mean, I’d like to stay. Thank you.”

While she wasn’t a fan of edge play, no one else seemed alarmed. Rather, they appeared riveted by the scene unfolding before them. She wouldn’t flee like a coward. Instead, she’d simply channel the courage Mark displayed.

The other Master’s face glowed in the amber light as he waved the fire sticks over the woman’s body as if preparing her for a fiery impact. “Charlotte,” he growled.

The redhead’s lips moved in response. “Master.”

The one word ran through Isabella like a storm. She flushed. Why did she feel her presence interrupted a private moment? Even surrounded by two dozen people, she sensed the Master, the woman and Mark had secreted to a private world.

The dark-haired Master drummed the wands of fire up the woman’s belly to her breasts. She arched into the flames! Why?

The woman turned her eyes to Mark and sent him a contented smile. The side of his mouth arched up, and he dipped his chin in acknowledgement.

Her face softened with a palpable gratitude.

The other man smoothed hair from her dampened forehead while tapping one breast lightly with the lit wand. Her mouth dropped to an “O” and she arched again toward the flame. The Master glanced up at Mark, who had leaned forward in his chair, his gaze sharpening on the woman’s reaction.

The other Master caught Mark’s glance and stilled. Mark nodded and the man resumed his actions.

Isabella’s stomach flipped over. There was no way this was not what she thought. Mark most certainly was with this statuesque firewoman. Though the other Master held the fire, Mark’s command of the scene was unquestionable.

“Why is he . . . ?” Her breath hitched.

“Mark is introducing Charlotte and Master R to fire play. It’s her first time.”

As if that made it okay?

Mark leaned back into his chair. His fingers relaxed over the ends of the armchairs. Even from the side, she caught the tiny flashes of firelight glinting in his eyes.

Again, more swipes of the fiery wands captured her attention. They made soft yet sharp sounds, like freshly laundered sheets flapping in the wind.
In her periphery, she was aware that the five or six people, who milled a respectful distance away, had shifted and separated. Couples leaned into one another, as if they’d grown embroiled in the intimacy woven between Mark, the other Master and Charlotte.

She tuned into her body. An undeniable feminine ache settled between her legs. Well, her response to the scene was merely the Club’s atmosphere. Accendos’s very air hung heavy with contagious, sexual arousal.

She shifted her focus to the woman now glowing in a sheen of perspiration. The fire matched the red in her hair, and she seemed to grow almost liquid in her undulations.

Mark’s consideration remained on Charlotte squirming under the attention of two Masters. Charlotte. The name sounded soft, pliable and pleasing, yet it meant “strength.” It was a name given to royalty—to duchesses and princesses.

Princess Charlotte gasped. Mark sat back, as if released from her behest that he provide her his full and undivided attention.

An orange flicker flashed across the woman’s chest and earned a throaty sigh from her throat. The Master then drummed the wands faster up her body.

Isabella nearly tipped backward. Good thing Alexander’s arm kept her upright.

“He’s not hurting her, Isabella. Imagine someone tapping a large, hot Q-tip over your skin.”

She could imagine such a sensation.

“It’s more mind play than anything,” Alexander continued. “Many people are afraid of fire. Are you?”

She slowly nodded. Like most people, she understood fire’s utter indifference to whatever lay in its path. Fire didn’t care if you lived or burned. Yet, today, its warmth called up a strange fear in her that exhilarated rather than paralyzed.

Charlotte seductively licked her lips and peered up at the Master. He cupped a handful of her breast and tapped her nipple with the wand. She cried out lightly, ending in a coo playing on her lips. There was no question she loved the sensation. The Master appeared to love her reaction to what he did.

Isabella took in Princess Charlotte’s assets, adding up her points. At least ten years younger than her. Taller. Breasts more firm. Can withstand fire. Did that last quality win her the crown?

She sent an invisible plea to Mark. She mentally begged him to angle his chin a fraction so he’d catch her in the doorway. If she could just see his confident and stoic face.  . . Alexander had said the redhead was merely under his protection, whatever the hell that meant. In the community, people bandied labels about like confetti.

A loud pop from one of the wands startled her. The flames attached themselves to Charlotte’s skin for the briefest second and then vanished like orange and red ghosts.

She pulled her blouse free from her clammy chest. The slight waft of cooler air did nothing to dissipate the heat growing where it should not be growing. She hadn’t been aroused in . . . how long?

How about in Mark’s kitchen? Or the bridge? Or . . .pick any other time you were with him? Shut up, she told her internal voices. Perhaps she should have tried edge play before. Then Marcos would watch her that way, wouldn’t he?

She projected herself onto the table. If she asked, the flames could land on her skin, make her arch her back that way. Even before she’d been widowed, she hadn’t had a Master’s touch in far, far too long.

Perhaps Marcos could . . .

Stop. She shouldn’t yearn to be in Charlotte’s position. So just don’t think it.

Ha! Like that would work. Her traitorous mind conjured pictures of herself splayed out, nude and writhing, as Marcos, and only Marcos, mastered her body’s reactions. The flames danced over its princess as if alive. Oh, to feel that alive. To have fire skip over her skin. To be the object of Mark’s attention.

He stood. Where was he going?

He strode to Princess Charlotte and smiled down on her. She sent him an adoring look. The kiss he laid on her forehead said everything. He was her real Master, wasn’t he?

Mark sat back down and nodded once. The Master resumed, thrumming the lit wands up the beauty’s legs. The fire skittered across Charlotte’s skin.

She twisted and moaned. More licks of warmth reached Isabella’s skin.

She searched the quietest corners of her mind for the bits of peace she’d stitched together in the last few months. The cool, empty places that didn’t need so desperately. They were no help in settling the arousal growing inside.

She turned and looked up at Alexander. He looked over her head and nodded in Mark’s direction. She didn’t dare turn her head.

Alexander gently turned her so she once again faced the scene. “Mark has requested you stay.”

“You got all that from a nod,” she whispered to the center of the room. She didn’t need to pose it as a question. The elite Dominants at Accendos had an uncanny understanding of one another. Their near clairvoyant abilities were part of their allure. They watched out for each other, as they watched out for their charges. Only she wasn’t anyone’s responsibility. She had no Master.

At that instant, her soul felt thrown to the periphery, outside wherever Mark, the other Master and the Fire Princess lived. The detached feeling should have numbed her body. Instead, she was overcome by a sense of loss.

Why had she come back? She should have never returned to D.C.

She glanced up at Alexander once last time, and then fled.

*****

PERFECT is a stand-alone novel in the Elite Doms of Washington series and will be available on August 22.  Follow me on Amazon if you’d like an alert when it’s out. In the meantime, stay cool and follow LadySmut.

*****

Elizabeth SaFleur writes contemporary erotic romance and she’s not afraid to get a little graphic about it  — “it” being the smex, the BDSM or Washington, DC society, which she regularly features in her series, the Elite Doms of Washington.

Wild Wicked Weekend: Sex Position Gumby and Other Delights

11 Mar

By Elizabeth SaFleur

Bring together 130 romance authors, readers, bloggers, publishers and promoters with five male models and what do you get? Wild Wicked Weekend (WWW), that’s what. I promised you a recap of this event. Well, pour yourself a martini and send your mind to San Antonio with me – the scene of the crime, as they say.

This three day party was launched a few years ago by the Belle Femme Authors, Desiree Holt, Brenna Zinn, Dalton Diaz, Cerise DeLand, and Samantha Cayto. The event offers the perfect ratio of an agenda and free time for spontaneous frivolity. As someone who goes to a bazillion conferences and conventions, my hat is off to the Belle Femme authors for pulling off that right amount of structure.

And, oh, my God, it’s fun. Not like, oh-that-was-amusing, I’m-glad-I-got-a-break-from-real-life fun. I’m talking an unfettered, unapologetic, kahlua fudge sundae, throw-your-panties-in-the-air blast. The kind of mind releasing time we all crave, where you can sink into being a little silly, less inhibited, and (probably) a lot too loud with girlfriends – new best friends you met an hour ago but who totally got you from the word “hello.”  A few author friends kept telling me WWW was like this. But hearing WWW is a party like no other, and experiencing it is the difference between being told about a book and reading one.

In addition to making lots of new fabulous friends, let’s start with five obvious reasons for why this event must be experienced first hand . . . our dates for WWW.

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Axl Goode, Charles Paz, Blake Labare, Taylor Cole, Kelli

No one can accuse me of burying the lede.

Throughout the weekend, our five male hosts entertained us, hung out and, in general, ensured we forgot the real world. They graced us with a Magic Mike-esque show, lapdance lessons, and bodypainting (on them, not us). It was like having five boyfriends (without the sex) who thought you were cute even hung over and having a bad hair day.

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“Yes, you may fingerpaint me.”

Forgive the blurriness, I was receiving my own lap-dance across the aisle.

Forgive the blurriness, I was receiving my own lap-dance across the aisle.

But that’s not all. Throughout the weekend, we were treated to a female impersonator show, a trip to BDSM dungeon, The Lair, and games — oh, so many games. Of course, when authors get together there’s also lots of talk about books, too. A short book fair was offered, and over 100 gift baskets were raffled off, with proceeds going to Wounded Warrior and Animal Rescue.

Each lunch and dinner had a decade theme (40’s, 50’s, 60’s or 70’s), where attendees competed in a costume contest for prizes.  Gawd, I miss the 1970s — all those clothes resembling disco balls and we weren’t afraid of looking sexy.

My 1970s costume for WWW. Disco ball, anyone?

Disco ball, anyone?

But, besides getting to spend time with some fabulous women, my hands-down favorite part of WWW was Sex Position Gumby. I’m soooo stealing this idea for New Year’s Eve.  I was one of the lucky one’s whose number (from my raffle ticket) was called to play. My ticket ended in “69” so clearly fate was involved.  This is where “what happens at Wild Wicked, stays at Wild Wicked” finds true meaning.

That’s me below on a bed with Taylor Cole, acting out an erotic scene, read outloud by fantastic Dalton Diaz, from Brenna Zinn’s latest (hot!) release, The Omega Team: Precious Cargo (Kindle Worlds Novella) (which I incidentally read on the plane on the way to WWW). How’s THAT for kismet? The audience provided the sound effects, while Taylor and I, well, just take a look . . .12074970_893175390797471_4795582423637394908_n

Note: That’s a ‘prop’ bra, and not mine. Sigh. But that’s really Taylor, and those are his real arms. I checked many times for you . . . ya know, just to be doubly sure you would receive an accurate description of the hard, rippling, steely muscle. If my husband is reading this, remember our talk about “research,” K?

All this fun required stopping for sustenance often to keep up our strength. My two WWW food groups: alcohol and guacamole.

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In fact, those olives and guac may have been the only green thing I ate all weekend.

Maintaining one’s energy during WW is imperative given you can expect to get about four hours of sleep the entire weekend. Who could snooze when there were midnight games of Crimes Against Humanity, poker and Texas Hold’em (mostly held in the lobby of our hotel, the historic Menger Hotel)? We kept the night staff entertained. You could say WWW women don’t arrive  to the Menger with a governor. We were a little loud.

Really, really late one night, a group of us skulked around the older section of the Menger looking for ghosts. Rumor says you can capture them in pictures through mirrors.

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A ghost has been reported walking between those two doors pictured below, moving from one suite to the other. Sadly, he didn’t make an appearance that night.

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Given what a ‘fraidy cat I am, I was shocked at my disappointment that not a single paranormal entity came out to say “boo.” Maybe we scared him with our earlier screaming laughter in the ballroom? (See Sex Position Gumby above.)

Oh, well. There’s always next year. Yes, I’m going back. I can’t miss the Gumby games, after all. The male models have nothing to do with it. Nope. Nothing at all.

P.S. I would have shown you more of the wild women of WWW, but they have a strict policy of allowing attendees to maintain anonymity, and remember: “what happens at Wild Wicked, stays at Wild Wicked.” Good to know. Otherwise, videos of Sex Position Gumby would surely make YouTube stars of us all.

P.S.S. A big shout-out hug to Carlene, a Lady Smut fan, who I got to meet in person at WWW! Thanks for reading, and let me know if I missed anything about WWW, okay? XO

*****

Elizabeth SaFleur writes contemporary erotic romance and she’s not afraid to get graphic about it — “it” being the smex, the BDSM, or Washington, DC society, which she regularly features in her series, the Elite Doms of Washington.

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