Friday, 6 March 2020

Her Secret Master by Samantha Calcott




She will not bow.

Avery Lourdes is a romance writer, specializing in BDSM culture. Once a week she attends a popular, secretive BDSM club. Not to participate, but to gather ideas. She watches the people and the scenes performed, jotting down notes for her next project.

When famous but problematic actor Geoffrey Underwood begins attending the same club, he immediately sets his sights on the young author. While she's flattered, she has no intention of becoming wife #5, or helping the sexy Dominant divorce wife #4.

But the attraction grows, and Avery soon finds herself stuck in the middle of a love story riddled with pain, lies, and plenty of pleasure.

What is one to do when they've accidentally stepped right into one of their own plots?




Excerpt:

      Avery was grateful for the liquor. Anything to ease the singing of her nerves would be welcome at that point.
      On the other end of the couch, Tommy and Cindy seemed to be heading off into their own little world. He had moved closer to her and away from Geoffrey and their voices were low, with the exception of the occasional giggle from Cindy.
      Geoffrey cocked his head at them. “I think my friend quite likes your friend. Good.”
      “And if they hadn’t liked each other?” Avery asked.
      He shrugged. “I would have hoped he would go off on his own and find a suitable sub like a good adult.”
      “And leave you all alone?” She arched an eyebrow as she sipped her drink.
      “Alone? Not planning on running off again, are we, love?” he asked.
      She shook her head, steeling her resolve. “No. I’m done running away from what I want.”
      His eyes darkened to a slate color and he said, “Well, thank Heaven for small miracles.” He twirled the cherries around on the stick for a moment and then turned toward her, effectively shutting out Tommy and Cindy. He cocked his finger, telling her silently to come closer.
      That single gesture, the come hither look in his eyes, sent her emotions flying in about ten different directions. She did as he asked, their thighs pressed together with little room left between their bodies.
      He took the edge of the red stick, which was in the shape of a pitchfork, and tapped it to remove excess soda. He held it out to her and she instinctively knew what he wanted. She closed her lips around one of the cherries and pulled it off slowly, as seductively as she could. He watched her intently, not taking his eyes off of her even as he ate the other cherry.
      At that moment, Avery knew she was lost. He had her under his spell, and nothing short of a safe word would save her now.
      He put his glass down and took hers as well. His index finger ran through a loose lock of brown hair, tucking it behind her ear. The finger trailed down her cheekbone to her jaw, to under her chin to tilt her head up.
      “Kneel.”
      That one word was spoken like molten chocolate and confirmed that the dynamics had changed.
      “Yes, Sir.”
      Smoothly, she slid off the couch to kneel on the floor between his legs. She placed her hands behind her back and looked down, hoping that he asked about hard and soft limits and safe words soon, or else she’d be forced to leave him once again, and she didn’t want to do that.
      “Look at me, pet,” he commanded. She did so, looking straight up into his impossibly beautiful eyes. “You are to keep your eyes on me at all times unless I tell you not to.”
      “Yes, Sir,” she replied. Not like that will be difficult: have you seen yourself?
      Geoffrey nudged Tommy. “We need our papers. Get the waitress.”
The ‘papers’ were the forms they had had to fill out to join the club, which featured their preferences, their limits, and their safe words. Avery felt relief wash through her at that.
      “What was that look for, pet?” Geoffrey asked. “Did you think I’d go into this blindly, like a newbie?”
      “You never know, Sir,” she replied.
      “And what would you have done if I had?”
      “Got up and left you with a severe case of blue balls for the fourth time,” she replied. “Sir.”
      It was a terrible habit of hers, goading and pushing her Doms to the brink to see what they would do. She knew she did it to feel more, to get her blood pumping and take her to the edge and over it. Some played right into her hands. Most of them ignored her, and thus bored her.
      Geoffrey didn't disappoint. He reached out and grabbed her by the back of her neck, fingers entwining in her hair below her ponytail holder. His strength surprised her as he pulled her up so she was close to his face. There was no anger there, only amusement and arousal.
      “You’re going to be fun, aren’t you, pet?” he asked.
      “I hope so, Sir,” she replied.
      He smirked and leaned closer. The first press of his lips on hers surprised her, soft and insistent. Most casual Doms didn’t kiss their submissives, though Avery had kissed her subs when the roles were reversed.
      His goatee was soft against her sensitive skin, and his lips were cold and tasted like cherries. The kiss was soft and searching at first. Then his hand tightened in her hair and he tilted her head just right. His tongue pressed against the seam of her lips and she opened them to let him in.
      His tongue plundered her mouth, licking and moving, twisting around hers and dominating her even there. He pressed harder, and she knew her lips would be bruised the next day. Not that she minded.
      She gasped into the kiss, unused to such an intense level of passion so quickly, melting into his rough but sure touch.
      His other hand trailed down her neck, his fingers tracing over the swells of her breasts, lingering on her side, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. His lips pulled away from hers, his teeth nipping at her plush bottom lip.
      She watched him intently, feeling like she was high. His eyes had darkened, resembling the ocean during a storm, and his lips were dark pink and wet. Without meaning to, she let out a shuddery breath to calm herself.
      “If that is what you look like after a kiss, I can’t wait to see you after an hour upstairs,” he said.





About the Author:

Samantha Calcott is a secret lover of romance when it's done right, and after years of writing horror and paranormal books as USA Today bestselling author Lily Luchesi, she decided to dip her toe into a brand new genre.

She's a Midwestern girl who spent nearly a decade in the gritty heart of Los Angeles, where sex, drugs, and rock n' roll reign.

When not writing, she's reading, at a concert, or cooking. She currently lives in her hometown of Chicago.



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