Thursday, 7 December 2017

Should I lick, fuck of spank the sass out of you? The first #NSFW excerpt from True, Deep and Forever: Part 1


True, Deep and Forever: Part 1
Book 5 of The Dark and Damaged Hearts


One marriage ... a second chance at love


Eight years ago their love was instantaneous, all-consuming and intense. Garret Banks had to have Amy Shaw the moment he met her, and no one thought the flame would ever go out.



Now, they have everything they’ve ever wanted: great careers, a beautiful baby, and a rock-solid marriage. Or do they? Garret’s high-stress architectural job is taking its toll. Amy's predicaments would be hilarious if they didn't make her want to cry. And to make matters worse, her ex is back in the picture, demanding answers about the wild passion she left behind — answers she isn’t willing to give. 



Garret and Amy grab quick, dirty sex while they can, but in between mommy wars, annoying in-laws, sleep deprivation and fears of betrayal, their marriage is put to the test time and time again. Once they were sure love conquers all, but how far can one marriage bend before it snaps?





“How would you like to be thanked?” he asked, his eyes at half-mast. He smelled like mouthwash and deodorant, and his head and cheeks had a shadow of hair, making him look rugged and dangerous. The women at playgroup said my husband looked like Shemar Moore, and in some lights I was inclined to agree. But Shemar Moore lookalike or not, Garret Banks was a sexy, virile specimen of a man. His Adam’s apple bobbed heavy in his throat as he leaned forward and captured my bottom lip between his teeth, pulling just enough to make me moan.
“Would you like to be thanked sweet and gentle? Or dirty and nasty? Should I punish you for interfering?”
My eyes flared wide and my body melted beneath his stare, pooling into a delightful warmth between my legs. “I—I was so out of line for interfering.” I gulped. “I had no right to poke my nose in your family affairs.”
A wolfish grin enveloped his face, and he sat up, straddling my legs and pulling the duvet cover down to my waist. Roughly he reached into my tank top and drew out my breasts. My chest heaved and my nipples pebbled as I bit my lip and stared up into his eyes. He leaned forward once again and took a tight bud in his mouth, sucking it hard, biting just enough to make me hiss and arch into him. His other hand came up and twisted and tweaked the other nipple with nimble fingers, delivering the same amount of delicious torture and making me wriggle and squirm beneath his big body.
“Should I lick, fuck, or spank the sass out of you?”
“Oh God,” I sighed. “All of the above.”
He gave me another wolfish smile. “On your knees, woman.”
I rolled my bottom lip between my teeth and scrambled up to my knees, my eyes flashing to the rising package beneath the thin layer of his cotton boxers. He shimmied out of his shorts, then there it was, staring me in the face with its one eye, daring me to take it all. And I did. I bottomed Garret out in my mouth immediately, taking him to the hilt and swallowing, letting my throat muscles contract around him. I spun my tongue up his length, flicking the tip with a saucy smile.
He groaned and pushed my head, eager for me to do it again. Again and again I took him to the back, suppressing my gag reflex and reveling in his primal grunts and the hard bucking of his hips. I smiled; he was a really easy man to turn on and an even easier man to drive completely insane.
I was just about to dip my head and lick his balls when big hands came up under my arms and forced me down on to all fours. He pulled my shorts and underwear down, and there I stayed as he climbed off the bed and went to his walk-in closet.
A trickle of arousal began to make its way down my legs. My nipples pearled and strained against my tight tank top, and I mentally berated myself for having turned him down so much lately. Sex with my husband was always great, so why did it always take so much convincing for me to do it? I heard the whistle and swish of his chosen “weapon” and grinned, ready and eager to take my “punishment.”
He wasted no time prepping me or talking. He knew I was ready and willing. The first whip came crack-fire fast and landed hard right across the backs of my thighs. I let out an involuntary hiss and flinched, but I couldn’t deny the smile that erupted on my face either. I loved it when he took the willow branch to me.
“You’re a kinky little masochist,” he chuckled, the slash of the whip coming down again and landing with a snap against the meatiest part of my butt. It was true. I liked it rough, and I liked a bit of pain with my pleasure. It’d taken a few months for me to show Garret that side of myself, but when I finally had, he revealed that he had never done anything of the sort and was as vanilla as they came. But he was eager and willing to learn, something I could work with. One afternoon, we’d been walking through a park after having grabbed lunch, and we came upon a big weeping willow. Our eyes had locked as we both got the same idea.
It’d been a very fun and delightfully painful evening, one that had prompted us to go back to that tree several times over the years and procure new, fresh whips, as the wet ones packed more of a wallop. When we’d started building our house and were figuring out the landscaping, we’d gone to the nursery together and picked out the biggest, most beautiful weeping willow they had. We’d gotten so turned on simply purchasing the tree that we’d actually ducked into the cedar hedge section of the nursery and had a quickie. But now, with the beautiful shady tree in our own back yard, we always had access to fresh whips whenever we needed them.
“You love it!” I grunted when a particularly painful swat landed across my lower back. “It’s the only time you truly get to wear the pants … ”
He snorted. “That’s what you think. I’m always wearing pants. I just let you wear pants, too.”
I craned my neck around to look at him, and he was stupidly grinning at me. He knew that saying he let me wear pants was going to get a rise out me. And it had. But this was all part of his little game. Not only had he succeeded in learning the darker side of pleasure, but he’d perfected the mindfuck too, playing with my head and keeping me guessing and wondering. He loved to rile me up and get me all hot and bothered, only to flip the switch and take the night in a whole different direction.
And that’s just what he did. After he’d gotten my ass good and pink, to the point where I knew I was going to have some issues sitting down tomorrow, he flipped me on to my back and, without a word, drove home. I inhaled quick and shallow from the sudden bite of discomfort as my bare backside rubbed against the sheets. But it soon dissolved, as I knew it would, and all that was left was a beautiful blooming heat that worked its way through my veins and made my entire body hum.
Pumping and hammering into me, splitting me open, he fucked me. He fucked me hard. His pubic bone ground against my clit until my eyes rolled into the back of my head and I could feel the calling of my climax. I moaned and wrapped my arms around his neck, bucking upward to meet his hips, desperate for more of him, for all of him. But then he switched gears again, keeping me on my toes, a master of the mindfuck.
Back up on all fours I was hauled, and this time instead of the willow branch, he reached for something small with a chain off the nightstand.
Ooh, the nipple clamps—yes! 




Enter here to win a copy of Sex, Heat and Hunger: Part 1


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