Naked Man in Need -- The Lure of Hurt/Comfort

Okay, any of you ladies who have dealt with an injured or sick man knows that the last thing they are is sexy. I recently nursed my hubby through the flu and a minor broken bone. Not very stirring in the erotica department. So why is hurt/comfort so appealing in fiction? And it's not just in romance fiction. Many a romance in literature was derived from a woman dutifully nursing a heroic character. I think I've figured it out. For this week, the trivia contest will not involve a question but a task. Name me an example of hurt/comfort in a novel or a film. The first one to respond with a good example will win a pdf copy of 'The Gift of Surrender.' That book has hurt/comfort as well, but there is a twist to that, too.

The heroes in hurt comfort stories are usually emotionally inaccessible. They are he macho alpha male who will not let anyone see past his bravado or he is the silent type who cannot open up and share his feelings. The hurt makes this character vulnerable. They are stripped of all defenses by the injury. Even if they don't vocalize their emotions, they are there on the surface for the heroine to clearly see. They are equalized physically making it easier for the heroine to physically interact with the muscular and usually naked man. The other advantage to caring for the prone hero is that is socially acceptable to spend time alone with him and to touch him. This injury gives the couple needed time to get to know each other and even to bond physically without engaging in THE ACT.

Armas is a very strong man and a much feared warrior. He is also not one to openly share his emotions. Had he made it to his brother's kingdom unharmed, I think the reconciliation would have been a lot harder to pull off and be true to who the characters are.

Here's an excerpt from The Price of Surrender, in which the very fierce Prince Armas is felled by assassins arrows and ends up in the care of Princess Laurila. More thoughts after the following.

Armas woke in confusion. He was not in his camp. He was warm in a very comfortable bed. He was also clean. His hair was unbound, damp and spread all about his head. Most confusing of all was that he was naked. Then the pain and the memory slammed his body robbing him of breath for an instant. But before he could rise, a cool, soft hand pressed firmly against his uninjured shoulder.

“Be still, Prince Armas,” a soft voice said. Another cool hand stroked his brow. “You must not jar your wounds.”

Armas opened his eyes to find Laurila’s lovely face above his. In the setting sunlight, he could see flecks of green and gold in her large amber eyes. They were very beautiful eyes that were full of kindness and concern.

“Laurila…” he murmured. “You are safe.”

“Yes, and I thank you,” she replied. Her voice had a lilting tone that was pleasant to his ears. “Were it not for my panic, you may have gone uninjured.”

“Nay. ‘Twas me they were after. I would have had to face them,” he replied in a near whisper. “You are not a warrior. No one would expect you to respond as one.”

He could not stop a sudden spasm of pain from making him moan. Laurila quickly moved to fill a large cup with water from a pitcher near him. She then gently lifted his head.

“Drink slowly, but drink all of it,” she said softly. “It will ease your pain.”

Armas obeyed her. The liquid was pleasant in taste and was quite cool. The ordeal had left Him very thirsty. He finished the cup with a sigh. Immediately, he felt the pain ebbing away. Laurila eased his head back on to the pillow then took the cup.

“Thank you, Princess,” he said with a sigh. “Where is Niku?”

“Sarianna has taken him to rest. The healing drained of much of his strength,” Laurila replied.

“Will he recover?” Armas asked with concern.

“Aye. He was very fatigued, ‘tis all,” Laurila replied reassuringly. “I expect him to look in on you before the night has waned.”

“You would stay with me through the night?” Armas asked with a raise of his brow.

“’Tis a small thing I am pleased to do,” she said with a shy smile.

“I thank you again, Princess.”

She smiled at him. Her lovely face became even lovelier. “How did you remember me? We saw each other so long ago, and I have changed.”

“Aye, you have indeed changed,” he smiled at her enjoying the beautiful blush that graced elegant cheeks dappled lightly with freckles. “But I could not forget the color of your hair. It is so much like this sunset… gold kissed with warmest red.”

He reached up to capture a curl hanging down near his face. But then his hand would not work. It fell back to the bed as his eyelids grew heavier.

“Let the water do its work, Prince Armas,” she said gently. “You need a great deal of rest. You are safe.”

“…and welcome and well cared for…” he whispered sluggishly.

“Aye, you are…” were the last sweet words Armas heard as slipped into sleep.

The other wonderful thing about writing and reading hurt/comfort is the slow building of sexual tension. It's great fun to have the attractive couple near each other with the attraction growing ever stronger as the hero does. And then one day, something just has to give. See the following excerpt:

Armas was dreaming, it seemed. He was warm and his body did not ache. A feminine voice was humming pleasantly and his scalp was being pleasantly stroked with soft bristles. He soon realized that there were no scents in his dreams. There was the scent of the herb tea nearby. He could smell the salve smoothed under his bandages. And then there was the mix of flowers and spices that was Laurila’s own.

Upon opening his eyes, Armas found the beautiful Princess brushing his hair with an intent yet serene expression as she hummed softly.

“Princess…”

Laurila shifted those amber-gold eyes to his with a soft smile. “Do not tease or scold me, Prince Armas. Your hair was not drying. I did not wish you to catch a chill.”

Armas found he did not wish to tease in the presence of such kind beauty. “I shall not tease, Princess. I thank you for your kindness.”

She smiled at him then turned to put away the brush. Her hair brushed his face then gifting him with that lovely scent. Armas closed his eyes for a moment to savor it.

“Are you in pain?” Laurila asked.

Armas opened his eyes to her concerned face. “Nay. I am given pause in the face of your beauty.”

Laurila eyed him carefully looking for a false compliment. When she found none, her lovely cheeks blushed once again. “I hardly know what to believe from you. In one breath you gift me with sweet words. In another you will try to send me away.”

“I do not try hard enough, Princess. Your presence at my side is a danger to us both,” Armas managed even as he was captivated by her lush lips.

“You speak in riddles. How am I a danger to Ritvala’s most fierce some warrior?”

“Laurila,” Armas sighed. “You have no idea of your power over a man. Such a fair face and such innocence and sweetness is irresistible.”

“I have done nothing to provoke you. I wish only to give comfort.”

“Beautiful Princess, you merely have to be to provoke a man,” he murmured. “And I have no status to offer a Princess. I do not wish to offend your grandparents and bring problems to my kin.”

Laurila’s lovely brow knitted in consternation. “I do not understand how my watching over you or tending to you could cause any provocation.”

Armas knew he should let her words pass unchallenged, but for her own sake, he was moved to speak. “Laurila, you are seated upon my bed whilst I lay unclothed. You lure me to yield to great temptation.”

“Please, Prince Armas. Tell me what I am doing so that I may know,” she replied softly. “I must know.”

“Such is the punishment for my indiscretions,” he muttered before falling into her golden gaze. “Your nearness, your scent and your beauty drive me to distraction, to want and nearly to madness…”

Before Armas could give thought to his actions, he had set his lips against hers. And then the Fates further conspired against him when Laurila gasped giving him access to her sweet mouth. The lure was too much to resist. Armas delved into that hot sweetness with his tongue. The Princess pulled back startled.

“Laurila, I…” Armas began not knowing how to excuse his actions, but wanting to try. His words were swallowed though when Laurila covered his mouth with hers. Gentle fingers carded through his hair while a shy tongue sought his.

It took all of the will Armas possessed to grasp Laurila’s slender arms and keep her from pressing against him while the Princess innocently ravaged his mouth. Never had the Prince felt such torture. Even when Taraasta bound his limbs to keep her taste and touch from him, there was not such torment. With the Queen, Armas knew that no matter how long his torment, he would get to taste fully. He would find his release. There was no such hope with Laurila to have more that her sweet taste and the innocent exploration that was pushing him to the edge of reason.

The Fates who were so gleeful in their torment, took pity upon him by bringing back the pain. The first moan was not from the wounds, but the sound caused the Princess alarm. She pulled away once again. Her face was beautifully flushed. Her hair was mussed and her eyes were a little wild. A strong wave of longing swept through him to see the beautiful Princess in the throes of passion. Then a wave of intense pain surged through him taking his breath.

Now remember, this is a great device in stories. I do not advocate taking a hammer to that cute delivery boy and nursing him back to health I'll try to be on time next week..

Hot Married Love!!

Along with the redemption of Armas, I wanted the sequel to The Gift of Surrender to show that a couple that is married with children and saddled with responsibilities can still be hot for each other. A recurring problem for the pair is trying to find a time when the children, relatives or advisors aren't intruding on their private time together. Even before Armas arrives, this is an issue for the pair. Consider this excerpt and forgive any errors. It is still unedited:

Sarianna was indeed vexed by the time she pulled herself together for the audience. The problem with any ire she felt toward her son or her husband is that it tended to dissipate after a charming smile. Nikulainen’s was dazzling as he swept in smelling of the brisk breeze. His hair was attractively tousled from the wind and his cheeks deeply flushed. The smile was a wicked one that morn. Sarianna knew that her husband was delighted to catch her alone before the audiences began. She found herself plastered against him an instant after he entered the Receiving Hall.

The admonishment Sarianna had in mind to give was forgotten under a very heated kiss. Instead of pushing, Nikulainen away, she found herself weaving fingers though his cool, silken hair to pull him closer. When he moaned, Sarianna suddenly remembered where they were and pulled away.

“Do not scold me, fair Queen,” Nikulainen murmured with eyes full of heat and mirth. “I could not resist stealing a kiss. It is so rare that we are alone during the day.”

“I would never scold you about that,” Sarianna replied softly. “I still hunger for your touch with every waking breath.”

Those big dark eyes flashed at her. “But you were going to scold me about something?”

“Yes, my fearsome warrior,” she replied archly. “It is past time that you face your fear of battle with our lovely neighbor. I miss your presence during the day when you are avoiding conflict.”

“Aye. I miss you as well,” Nikulainen admitted sheepishly.

“Beloved, I commend your sensitivity to her tender heart, but you will do Laurila a greater kindness by making clear to her your feelings,” Sarianna said gently. “Our Siljanen monarchs have raised many children. I am certain that this kind of thing has happened before. They will not hold us in ill regard.”

Nikulainen smiled at her. “No, I suppose not. The matter will be addressed this day.”

“Thank you, my love,” Sarianna said hugging him close. “And I shall explain to our son that he cannot keep Laurila.”

Nikulainen pulled back to look at his wife with raised brows. She chuckled.

“I am afraid so. It was all I could do to convince him that he should not be sharing a bed with her as we share one,” Sarianna said with a sigh.

The young King sank into a chair and stared at his wife with wide eyes. “I was not so mischievous a child that the Fates would bless us with such a son.”

Sarianna perched on his knee and touched her forehead to his. “I think your mother may disagree. At least he is a loving child.”

“Apparently,” Nikulainen said dryly.

“Though he is quite vexed at me this morn,” Sarianna said. “He had some sort of adventure in the eastern woods while Laurila and I were riding. I did not have time to let him show me what had excited him.”

“I will speak to him after the audience,” Nikulainen replied setting them both on their feet. “Do not fret. He is never vexed at the ladies for long. Now, fair Queen, how will you reward your champion for facing these dangers?”

Sarianna gazed at him through lowered lashes. “Is doing your solemn duty not its own reward?”

Nikulainen pretended to give that some thought. “Nay.”

The young Queen glowered at her husband. “Name your price, then. But it cannot involve the thrones. We have come too close to being caught.”

That brought a wicked grin to Nikulainen’s otherwise innocent features. “Very well. Your price shall be paid in our bath this night.”

“I accept,” Sarianna said with a smile of her own just as the herald entered to announce the audience.

Thus, as the story of Armas' return unfolds and all are swept up in the intrigue and his courtship of Laurila, Sarianna and Nikulainen continue to build on their relationship. And they pursue each other with as much enthusiasm as when they were courting. I hope to show that passion doesn't have to fade with marriage and children. I think that's one of my pet peeves about romances. The book typically end not long after the wedding. The reader never gets to see what the couple becomes. In this sequel we get to know them as husband and wife and as parents. I hope you will find them as exciting as they were during the torrid courtship.

My favorite film couple did not have an origin story. We never got to see their courtship. It must have been amazing because they are a very hot married couple. I'm not thinking of Mr. & Mrs. Smith (though they are one hot and pyschotic couple). This is a much older film couple, pre- color. Once again, if you guess who the characters are and who played them, you win a free pdf of The Gift of Surrender.

Soon, I'll be offering preview copies of The Price of Surrender . The discussions of that story begins in earnest next week.

To order The Gift of Surrender, go to:

http://sybpress.com/titles.htm#Surrender

Square Peg

Forgive my brief rant, but I am a dominatrix after all. I reserve the right to be imperious on occasion. I've been told by yet another book publicist that I'm difficult to define. I am not hard-core enough to promote in erotica circles. My language is too 'lyrical.' I need to be more frank and raw for that audience. Yet I am too explicit and kinky for the fantasy readers. They don't know what to do with me. That's nothing new to me. When my friends were listening to the Jackson Five's ABC, I was listening to the Beatles 'Sgt. Pepper.' I watch The National because Peter Mansbridge is damned sexy (no, I'm not Canadian). I'm subversive. But I'm not subversive for it's own sake. I take genre's I enjoy and write them through my own unique filter. I have been fortunate to get good reviews, but I'm hard to market.

I am not discouraged though. I know there are readers who like fantasy and long for something more than longing looks and chaste kisses. There are legions of women out there like me who wished that in nearly eight hours of the Lord of the Rings films, they could have managed to get Legolas or Aragorn or Boromir naked under a waterfall. I mean, those films were just hours long and all they managed to do from one to the next is put on MORE clothes! There were two women writers on those scripts, for goodness sake! Sorry, I've totally digressed.

I can't write fiction to fit a market. I don't want to sex up my website to make readers think I'm writing in a way that I'm not. That sort of erotica is either too crude for my taste or too Salome Otterbourne (Here's the trivia clue. Name the film AND the actress for a free pdf of the Gift of Surrender - you folks have been too sharp). I won't sacrifice developing character to get to the sex sooner, and I won't turn down the sex to placate those who want relationships frozen in the perfect world of a smoldering gaze culminating in that one kiss.

I write what gets me off. Those who are daring enough to take the ride have enjoyed it. The highest praise I've received is that my portrayal of B&D made it sound not just enticing, but very reasonable. And I've been pleased that readers like the characters. The book is finding an audience. It slow, but it's growing. Now, I just need to find a patient publicist.

For those who have not yet sampled the novel, go to:

http://sybpress.com/gift_of_possession.htm

Even if you have read the excerpt, you should return to look at that lovely sketch!

And if I've piqued your curiosity about the novel, you can follow the Amazon link at:

http://sybpress.com/titles.htm#Surrender:

Necessary Debauchery

Romances are getting more risqué with the sexual escapades of their characters. Still, I try to keep in mind that there are some lines that readers don't want to cross. One scene could ruin a book for a reader. Thus, I carefully consider the impact when I write on the edge and I don't write scene like that simply for shock value.

In the original version of The Gift of Surrender I had a hardcore scene with Prince Armas and Queen Taraasta where she was abusing him with an inanimate object while cutting off his breathing (when I say abuse, I mean penetrating him). I thought I needed to show just how much a hold she had on Armas and how far he had fallen away from the right path. Please note, I don't disapprove of that act, per se. It was the degradation and pain inflicted during the act. I changed my mind during the editing process. I realized that I already demonstrated how far Armas had fallen when he broke the close ties he had with his brothers. I felt so bad for him over that break that I had to write a sequel to put them back together.

In the sequel, The Price of Surrender, I had to write scenes that clearly demonstrated the life of debauchery Armas was living while still with Taraasta. But how far do I go? Should I do a full blown Roman style orgy? How many orifices should be involved? I decided on frequency rather than one big event. Thus, in an early chapter, Armas has a series of maids and cooks turning up in his bed culminating with two in his bed at once. It is a risqué scene, but certainly not alarming. The scene is also very hot for that moment, but ultimately it's sad. Nothing Armas does can fill the void that leaving his family created. Having everything he wanted and the freedom to do anything he wanted could not make Armas happy. It's then he decides to grow up. That decision doesn't have nearly the impact unless the lifestyle he was leading is dramatically demonstrated.

My favorite use of necessary debauchery is the subject of today's trivia question. It is a delightfully sinful film that covers almost every kind of sex imaginable. It is set in Havana and involves a condemned woman telling her sordid tale to a young priest the night before she is to be hanged. If you can guess the film, I'll give you a free pdf of The Gift of Surrender.

The Gift of Surrender -- The E-Book

I am very pleased to announce that The Gift of Surrender will soon be available as an e-book. I believe the release will be in May, but I do not have an exact date. Forbidden Publications has a great groups of exciting writers. Check out the new offerings at:

http://forbiddenpublications..com

There is also a link in the links section of this blog.

I'll keep everyone updated as I get more info.

Hot Cops - New and Improved with love scene

Although this took a week to post, I'm actually working onthis in spare moments and very much on the fly. Please comment. I'll have a full synopsis in a few days.

DL

CJ didn’t know why he was on that road. He should have taken the last exit. There were a few nice long-term hotels near LAX. He had babysat a few witnesses in one that even had a kitchenette and wfi. That one was right off the freeway on ramp. Getting to work even in bad traffic would be under a half an hour. Instead, CJ was hugging the coastline in the darkness enjoying the sudden biting crispness in the air. CJ breathed in the salty, fragrant breeze as he wound his way through the narrow complicated neighborhood without really thinking about where he was going.

“This isn’t a convenient place to live at all,” CJ observed to himself as he squeezed into a parking space on a street crowded with cars. Even the ones in driveways jutted out to almost illegal lengths. His destination didn’t even have a space for a second car. “What the hell am I doing? God, I’ve actually left Marilyn.”

CJ’s eye filled and almost spilled over at the thought of the anguish on her face as he closed the front door behind him. But her last words propelled him the remaining distance to the front door. He didn’t think about why he brought his suitcase.

Jordan looked tired when he came to the door. He may have even been asleep. CJ thought briefly about how tedious and draining it was biding time waiting to testify. He found it harder than working cases.

“Ceej?”

CJ blinked at Jordan’s sleepy blue eyes.

“It’s not just lust,” CJ blurted out. “For me, it isn’t.”

Jordan’s eyebrows raised. “But some of it is.”

“Some of it’s what?”

“Lust,” he replied. There was a lot in those big blue eyes then. There was befuddlement worry and something else that made CJ swallow hard.

“Yes,” he almost chuckled. How could he want to laugh now?

Jordan stepped back and waved him inside the living room. “Take a load off. I’ll get you a drink.”

“Nah, I’m driving.”

“No, you aren’t,” Jordan replied firmly. His voice was floating in from the kitchen.

The tension in CJ eased then. There was something really pathetic about a lone guy checking into a hotel in his own city. How many guys had he interviewed that were living in one room with a hot plate? He never wanted to be that guy. Jordan’s sofa was really comfortable. Actually sleeping was suddenly a possibility.

CJ drifted mindlessly as he watched cable news. He hadn’t realized that a little time had passed until a small plate was deposited in front of him on the coffee table. It was an appetizing square of lasagna. A glass of red wine was placed next to it.

“You should eat something,” Jordan said settling next to him with his own plate and glass.

“You Italian?” CJ asked after sampling a forkful of the food.

“On Mom’s side, but I didn’t make it,” he replied. “Italian deli down the road.”

“Thanks. I didn’t eat dinner.”

“Knew that. Looks like you packed instead,” he said. His eyes were sad as he looked at the bag. “She told you about lunch.”

“Yeah. I’m sorry...so sorry,” CJ muttered. There was suddenly a lump in his throat. He put his fork down.

“Sip the wine, and keep eating,” Jordan said gently. “You’ll feel better.”

Keeping his mouth full was easier than talking. CJ didn’t know if he could really talk about what happened that night.

“I’m not going to be a good friend to you, Ceej,” Jordan said quietly as he eased back on the sofa.

“Hmmm?” The declaration surprised him mid sip.

“A good friend would get you a pillow and a blanket and make you eggs in the morning then help you find a furnished apartment,” Jordan replied sipping his wine.

“You aren’t going to do that?”

“Nope.”

CJ put down his empty plate then turned to look at Jordan. He leaned back on the sofa as well with glass in hand. “What are you going to do that’s so bad, Jord?”

Jordan looked him straight in the eyes. He wasn’t befuddled or worried any longer. “I’m taking you to bed. It’s a very bad idea. It’s the last complication you really need, but I have to.”

“You do?”

“Oh yeah,” he replied considering CJ almost lazily. “There’s something about you...makes me want to drive you crazy.”

CJ was fully confident that Jordan could accomplish that without ever touching him, but that wasn’t the matter at hand. “Is it more than lust for you?”

“Yeah...”

He looked CJ in the eyes again. Forget swallowing. Breathing was getting really difficult. “Then, why can’t you be more of a friend?”

CJ didn’t know why he was asking all those questions. He wanted Jordan to make him stop thinking. Maybe some part of him wanted to make sure he was acting with his eyes wide open. For his part, Jordan’s intense vibe hadn’t changed. He just seemed more agitated about any delay.

“I’m not perfect,” he said quietly. He deliberately placed his wine glass on the coffee table. He then took CJ’s glass and put it aside. “We aren't here to make things perfect. The snowflakes are perfect. The stars are perfect. Not us. We are here to ruin ourselves and to break our hearts and love the wrong people and die. Now, I want you to come with me and get in my bed.”

CJ stared at him. “You’re quoting Moonstruck to me? Jord, that’s so gay.”

Jordan had him by the shoulders and his head was angling perfectly. “You knew it was Moonstruck. How gay is that?”

Jordan's lips sealed with CJ's. A talented tongue invaded his mouth. That clean, spicy scent filled his nostrils. It seemed to CJ that Jordan was possessing him, and he didn't mind. CJ moaned into the kiss wrapping his arms around Jordan and holding on.

The short trip to the bedroom was hurried and graceless. Jordan stepped on CJ's foot and got elbowed a few times along the way. The moment was about to slip into comedy when CJ's shirtless back hit the blankets. Where did that shirt go? Jordan's lush mouth actually had a slight smirk. His vibrant blue eyes were feral as he shucked his dress shirt. Meanwhile, CJ suddenly found himself on the verge of panic.

"No you don't," Jordan murmured. "Stop thinking...stop..."

He was kissing CJ again. Jordan was good at coaxing his mouth open and getting their tongues to play together. A warm hand pressed against the center of his chest holding CJ down while providing an almost electric connection between them. When Jordan pulled from the kiss, the hand remained.

"Unfasten your pants," Jordan ordered softly. "This is not something I'm going to do to you. There is a lot I will do to you at some point and probably repeatedly, but this time we do it together."

CJ unhooked his pants then slid down the zipper. He arched up and shimmied the pants down to mid-thigh while Jordan watched him intently.

"Jesus, Ceej...you're packing a big surprise."

CJ felt his cheeks get warm. "What about your pants?"

Jordan smiled. "I'll have to move my hand."

"I'm okay," CJ managed after a hard swallow. "I want this..."

Jordan considered that answer while caressing CJ's collarbones. After a long moment, he pushed his pants and under shorts down at the same time then hurriedly heeled his way out the of bunched fabric at his ankles. CJ could barely get a good look at Jordan because he was busily yanking his pants and shoes off. What he saw was impressive. He had fine hair spread across his chest and legs. CJ knew his partner was nicely built. That was apparent in even in clothes. But Jordan wasn't hard muscled like he spent all of his spare time in a gym. He was lean and sleek like an athlete. CJ found the body appealing though he was a little nervous about the big surprise Jordan was packing.

"'S'o'kay," Jordan murmured as he pressed their bodies together. "We're just gonna get to know each other."

With that husky promise, Jordan ground his hips against CJ's shocking him with the pleasure of mutual heat and hardness. It was the first time he felt an aroused cock pressed against his own. CJ didn't panic. He reached for more hungrily grasping the back of Jordan's curly head and taking his mouth in a desperate, hungry kiss. Hid moan went straight to CJ groin making him even harder.

"Damn," Jordan murmured as he broke the kiss. He smiled at CJ's breathy protest before he lowered his head to kiss and taste the side of his neck. "Kiss good...taste good..."

CJ moaned in pleasure and surprise when Jordan gently bit then sucked at the curve of his neck and shoulder. He didn't know that was an erogenous zone. He was really surprised at the jolt from Jordan's tonguing his collar bones.

"Keep moaning and sighing like that and this will be over before it really starts," Jordan said softly. His voice was full of laughter.

"Can't help it," CJ sighed. "What are you doing to me?"

"Introducing you to your body," Jordan murmured as he flicked his tongue against a hardened nipple. "Every inch of this beautiful skin needs attention."

CJ wanted to say something in response to those provocative words. He wanted to flirt in kind. He wanted to thank profusely. All he could do is arch into the feel of that hot mouth on his untried nipples and moan once more. Everywhere brushed by those lush lips or laved by that hot tongue or nipped by those white teeth was hypersensitive to the air. CJ didn't think he could bear to be touched anymore at the same time he thought he'd never want it to stop.

Jordan seemed to be impervious to the impact of the seduction, or CJ thought he was. Just below his navel, Jordan huffed in frustration.

"I suppose I can make love to you slowly when we're seventy-five or dead," he chuckled into CJ's belly. "You are driving me crazy."

With that, Jordan engulfed his erection to the base in that hot, moist mouth. CJ couldn't moan. He had no breath for any sound. One hand gently grasped Jordan's warm, broad shoulder. The other sank into his curls to cup the back of his head. He then met Jordan's gaze. There was almost none of the vibrant blue visible in his eyes. It made the ring of blue still visible even more intense. CJ had never felt that act gifted to him with such relish, it felt as if pleasuring him was the only thing in the world Jordan wanted to do. For a man who had his relationship ruled by rationality, that kind of physical intensity made short work of CJ's limited control. It seemed to take only seconds to come.

CJ petted the hair beneath his hand while he grasped the shoulder more firmly to move Jordan up his body, so he could kiss him. As their lips met and their tongues clashed, CJ thought about the many times he had tasted himself on Marilyn's mouth. Those kisses had been more about fair play than an uncontrollable need. During that open mouthed kiss, CJ rolled Jordan on his back and pushed his thighs apart with one leg. He gently tightened the hold on those soft curls to keep Jordan's head in place while grasping that big, hot erection with the other hand. There was no way he could make his mouth work that well on the first try, but he was very good at using his hand.

Jordan moaned into the kiss while his hands roamed CJ's back. He found it satisfying that those warm, expressive hands were nearly desperate against his skin. Everything about Jordan's sensuous responses fascinated him. It should have been odd stroking another man's cock Hell, it should have been terrifying making such a shift in his life. All CJ could think about was how good, the hot, hard velvet felt pulsing against his palm and the way Jordan was moaning and straining towards him. All he wanted was to see and hear was this enigmatic man beneath him come. And then Jordan was tearing away from his mouth and crying out as the heated flesh in his fist spasmed.

There was nothing feminine about Jordan's face at that moment, but CJ could only describe him as beautiful. His lush lips were parted invitingly. His hooded eyes were sleepy and satisfied and very warm and tender in expression. CJ wondered what Jordan saw in his eyes as he tasted the thick liquid on his fingers.

"Kiss good, taste good..." CJ murmured with a smile.

Jordan smirked at him then pulled him down for another long, intense kiss. This one wasn't as desperate or hungry, but CJ still felt his entire body react to it. He wondered if he would feel the same way about those kisses a year from that night. Chances were good, he decided. He didn't think he every felt such physical intensity with Marilyn.

Jordan broke the kiss and looked in CJ's eyes closely. He shook his head while sitting up. He handed CJ a big glass of water from a tray on the nightstand next to he bed.

"You're thinking again. Stop," he murmured wiping his torso with a small towel that was on the nightstand.

The towel made CJ wonder as he handed back half the glass of water. He supposed a man living alone could keep a come towel so boldly by the bed. It made sense. Jordan squinted at him while drinking the water.

"You never stop thinking, do you?" He asked softly. "I'll learn ya, that's for sure. Sleep is what you need right now. And maybe some cake, but I don't have any cake, so sleep it is."

Jordan turned off the light then pulled CJ into a loose embrace. After a few moments of configuring arms and legs, CJ settled. He still didn't feel strange in that relative stranger's bed. Fatigue hit him as soon as his body stilled. Jordan sighed into sleep within minutes. CJ soon followed.

How To Own a Hunk

One of the by-products of writing fiction with b&d themes, is getting the occasional request to give a spanking, truss up or otherwise abusive some willing male. Naturally, it is assumed that because I write it, I must be running around in a corset and spiked heels every day. For the record, both corsets and spiked heels make me very cranky and not in the fun way. And I cannot accept sex slaves via the net. However, if a member of the Paris Rugby team wants to kneel at my feet, I'll never refuse. Though I do more than dabble in the lifestyle. I have found a happy medium in letting my inner Mistress spice up my life as it does my fiction.

The question remains: how does a woman get a man tied up for her pleasure? Can she get a hunky man to submit to her will? My heroine in The Gift Surrender had incredible looks and a wonderful spirit to attract and ensnare her Prince. In The Price of Surrender, the hero is surrendering the pursuit of political power for the trust and love of his Princess. Having these beautiful men the way they want them is relatively easy for them (if you don't count the assassins and betrayals and an otherworldly beast). Can a woman that isn't heir to a throne wield the same power over a man? I say, of course.

<>It takes a confident gal who enjoys a thorough romp in the hay. To quote Princess Sarianna, you have to know what your about. Any woman who is sure of herself and enjoys the attention of men can get him on his knees or bent over hers. It is a rare man that doesn't enjoy a woman pursuing intimacy. [Small caveat, you must establish that there is a mutual attraction before pursuing anything.] So a Mistress should be comfortable and confident and sexy in her own skin. A Mistress pays attention to herself and makes herself feel good. My Princesses are beautiful not just because of genetics but also because they take care of themselves. When a Mistress has a male she wishes to ensnare, she learns him well in every aspect of his life. Most times, they never ask him about sex. Once the homework is done, the seduction is easy.

<>Now, if you aren't ready for wrangling your own l'il darlin (I'll give a free pdf of The Gift of Surrender who gets that reference), you can always enjoy the vicarious thrill of retraining the beautiful men in the novel. You can order them anytime by visiting:
http://sybpress.com/titles.htm#Surrender for a link to Amazon.com

For a look at the Paris Rugby team in Dieux de Stade:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dieux_du_Stade