In one sense, this book is not a departure for us at all. In the other sense, it is a huge departure. This is our first book (though hopefully not our last!) that features a BDSM relationship with a female dom and a male submissive. It is part of Amber Quill's Masquerade collection, and it begins at a literal masquerade party, but it's all about the masks we wear...
Nobody can hide their secret desires behind a mask for long...
Dante Frost is a very powerful man. The young CEO of Foster and Howe, he is forced to make several sacrifices in his public and private life. First and foremost, he can no longer frequent the BDSM club Switch, where he is a devoted and well-trained sub. Dante thinks that life is completely behind him. Until the night of the annual Halloween masquerade party, when he meets a most captivating Mistress.
Noelle Farinas is a very driven young woman. When she is passed up for a much-deserved promotion at Foster and Howe, she immediately begins looking for ways to prove to Dante Frost that he made a mistake when he overlooked her. Her research leads her to Switch, where she learns of Dante’s history at the club. She hatches a plan to lure Dante to her at the annual masquerade party, but she never counts on enjoying her session with him.
And she certainly doesn’t expect Dante Frost to ask for a more permanent arrangement between the two of them...
Genres: Contemporary / BDSM / Rubenesque
Heat Level: 3
Length: Extended Novella (34k words)
Here's an NC-17 excerpt. A little taste...
“Don’t you look pretty…” And he did. The natural pout of his lower lip glistened from where he’d licked it recently, and the bend of his shoulders delineated the sharp lines of his chest. Noelle stepped in front of him, savoring his warm breath fanning across her thighs, and let the whip trail over his thick erection. “It’s too bad we don’t have any of my toys. You’d look even prettier with one of my spiked cock rings on.”
His cock jerked against the whip, and she knew he was responding to the image she had planted in his brain. Now she wished she had other toys, as well. A weight for his balls, a collar to fit around his neck with a short leash, chains for his wrists and ankles. His gaze dropped from her face to the whip, and his lips parted, his body already tensing in anticipation.
“Oh, you like that, don’t you?” Lifting her leg, Noelle rested her foot on Dante’s
shoulder, her sharp heel digging into muscle above his nipple, and pushed him back so that his shoulders were braced against the edge of the bed. “When was the last time you had a whipping, boy?”
“Years, Mistress. Four years.”
Four years. The lapse coincided with his promotion to CEO, the last time he’d visited Switch. In all that time since, he hadn’t taken another lover who’d satisfied his submissive streak. Probably out of fear of risking his new position. And yet, here he was, willingly offering himself to Noelle. It had even been his idea to invite her up to his suite, though she knew she had done everything she could to entice him. Part of her had always feared, though, that she wouldn’t be his type. The few women he’d been seen with since taking over Foster & Howe were all petite. With her generous size sixteen curves on her five-nine frame, petite was the last word that could ever be used to describe Noelle Farinas.
“Do you want to rectify that tonight?”
“Yes, Mistress.” The answer was immediate and measured. Despite the years, Dante hadn’t forgotten his training, it seemed. And she was a little surprised at how easy it was for him to slip back into this role. Four years was a long time, and he was a powerful man, but apparently, none of that mattered. “Please.”
“Wonderful…” she breathed. Tilting her head, she regarded the sculpture of his torso, the slim hips, the wet tip of his arousal. Her pussy clenched, and she wondered what it would feel like to sink down on its thick length. “I’d usually give out a harsher punishment for ogling me without permission, but considering how long it’s been for you, I won’t whip your cock. Yet.” Noelle dropped her foot and stepped back, giving him room to move again. “On your hands and knees. Head down, ass up.”
Dante dropped forward as soon as she finished speaking, bending until his brow touched the thick carpet. She dragged the tip of the whip up the slope of his back slowly, then down the crack of his ass until she reached his balls. He didn’t make a sound, but his body was tense, and she thought she saw a small tremor in his thighs.
Noelle swallowed. As excited as she was, this was the true test. She had been Mistress Rosalind’s apprentice for months now, and while she’d had several subs at Switch, it had always been under her Mistress’s watchful eye. The inexplicable desire to do this right—to do this well—surged inside her.
“I expect gratitude, boy. For each and every stroke.”
And with her final command, she swung the whip, electricity shooting up her arm as the leather made contact with the lower swell of his ass.
Dante cried out, his body jerking forward. The sound of the whip against his bare skin was almost as loud as his shout. “Yes, Mistress, thank you.” She pulled back and let the whip come down in the same spot. His skin was already turning pink, and a few more blows like that would make the skin red. “Thank you, Mistress.”
Never had the words been so intoxicating. It wasn’t just that they were testimony to what she was doing to him, how hard and hungry for this he was; it was that this was Dante Frost who was thanking her, getting off on her power for a change and not his.
Noelle struggled to keep her breathing under control as she let the whip fly again and again. She needed her strokes smooth and even, but just when his cries started to take on a raw edge of pain, she stopped.
“You look good enough to eat like this,” she purred. Bending over, she smoothed her palm over the enflamed skin, gasping at the fiery heat that jumped between them. His last shout faded into a moan, and he pushed back against her hand, encouraging her to continue. “Or maybe it would be better to fuck you.” Sliding her hand over, she scratched her long nails between the cheeks of his ass, stopping at the tight pucker. “Ever been ploughed by a strap-on, boy?”
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