Unfinished Business is LIVE on Bellesa

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When it comes to my favorite tropes, I love a good second-chance romance, especially when it involves kinksters and power exchange. There’s just something about rekindling those deep-rooted feelings of trust and submission that makes my pulse flutter.

Falling in love is already an earth shaking experience. Add a drop of kink, and it’s like you’ve raised the emotional stakes by a thousand.

Previously only available in The Sexy Librarian’s Dirty 30, Volume 2, my second-chance erotic short “Unfinished Business” is now available to read for FREE on Bellesa!

Read an excerpt below:

I’m probably making a mistake, returning to the house I once called home, to the man who taught me how much pleasure my pain was worth. I wasn’t a virgin when we met, and I had seen and read enough to know I wasn’t vanilla either. I was butter and sugar waiting to be whipped. Waiting to become Devil’s food, he said, the first time he cuffed me to the Saint Andrew’s Cross in his den.

Seems like a lifetime ago.

We found each other again on an internet forum dedicated to Japanese rope bondage. Straightaway, I recognized his handle and propensity for short, clipped sentences. I was debating whether I should say something when he messaged me. And it was only a matter of time before flirtatious, nostalgia-laced emails led to sexting at the office.

I’m officially in town for a job interview at a publishing house, smaller than the one I currently work for, but better aligned with my values. There is the work you do for money, to shelter, clothe, and feed yourself, and then there’s the work you do to feed your soul. If you’re lucky, they’re one and the same. It’s been a while since I’ve felt lucky.

The train lurches. I brace my heel against the scuffed floor and inhale, testing the give of my lacing ribbons. Over the corset, I have on an ivory blouse and a black, high-waisted skirt. Clean lines and classic hues; sensible garments for a respectable applicant. I imagine how they’ll look strewn across Ian’s floor.

I bite back a smile. The decision to spend my last night in Boston with Ian was an easy one: I am nothing if not a masochist. For three years, I served at his feet, watching him lay the groundwork that would eventually earn him the unofficial title of Northeastern University’s Professor of Kink. Like a tenure-tracked Rapunzel locked in an ivory tower, Ian only let his hair down under select circumstances, such as the promise of pain or pleasure, or the occasion to exhibit his mastery of both. Dating was off the table, but when he offered to let me serve as his live-in submissive, I abandoned my lease, threw my couch into storage, and gladly assumed the position.

Even now, ten years later, I still flinch when someone asks if I’ve read his books or attended his lectures. I have subbed for Dommes and other Doms in the years since I moved out, but in that time, no one has ever fucked me, beat me, or kept me as well or absolutely as Ian.

Read the complete story on Bellesa.co

Little Red: A Dark Erotic Story

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You have no idea how pleased I am to announce that my brand new short story “Little Red” is now available on Bellesa.co!

I must admit, I was nervous about putting this story out there. I thought it might be too niche, too intense, a few shades darker than what my readers generally expect.

Maybe it was the characters and their eagerness to engage in an edgier type of D/s play. Or maybe it was the combination of tropes that struck a chord.

Image of pretty young submissive lying in bedEither way, I couldn’t let this story languish on my hard drive. I wanted to find it a home somewhere, and that home is now Bellesa.co.

Please be aware that this story is not for everyone. It involves consenting adults participating in a non-consensual role play, featuring age play and light DD/lg elements.

If that makes you feel squicky, fear not, because I have plenty of other Bellesa stories (kinky and vanilla) to choose from.

However, if this combination of darker tropes has your mouth watering, you can head on over to Bellesa.co to read it for FREE.

Read on for a short excerpt from “Little Red” by Rachel Woe.

Julian slides back behind the wheel, and though his appearance remains the same, everything about him is different .

“What’s this,” he says with a playful lilt. “A little thing like you shouldn’t be out here all by herself. Who knows what kind of monsters roam these woods.”

Gooseflesh prickles across Robin’s arms and legs. She feels the urge to pee. Her stomach seizes as she locks eyes with Julian in the rearview mirror. She tucks her chin and opens her eyes china-doll wide. “My daddy was supposed to pick me up.”

Julian turns to study her, the hunger in his gaze even more tangible without the mirror between them. He hasn’t seen this dress before, and judging from the look he’s giving the butterfly buttons, she suspects she won’t be wearing it for long. “What’s your name, sweetheart?”

“Red,” she squeaks, donning the epithet he chose for her on account of the way her breasts flush when she’s aroused.

“How old are you, Red?”

If she says, thirty-seven, the game is over, though they may still fuck. Any number less than ten and there will be no penetration—his limit, not hers. The past few months, her go-to roles have been the perky cheerleader, the barely-legal cam girl, the runaway who’ll do anything for a cheeseburger and a soft place to sleep.

After the week she’s had, what she wants more than anything is to be carefree. You’d be surprised how much a teenager has to keep track of. Homework and extracurriculars, social engagements and the pressure to look, if not perfect, then ironically imperfect.

“Today’s my birthday,” she says in a small voice. “I’m twelve.”

Julian could say she looks older than twelve, in which case he’d be asking her to aim higher. But he knows her well enough to recognize that sometimes she needs to go deeper, darker, lower to the ground.

Some nights she needs to crawl.

“Happy birthday, Red. Why don’t you tell me where you live so I can bring you home?”

She recites her address slowly, stumbling over numbers.

He starts the engine. “Don’t forget your seatbelt.”

Pulling the belt across her chest, Robin deliberately struggles to fit the tongue inside the buckle. Julian chuckles, a bottomless rumble that judders her bones.

He exits the car.

Robin jumps as the rear door springs open. Julian smiles, his bold appraisal making her feel self-conscious. She can tell he’s already imagining how delectable she’ll look on all-fours, how juicy she’ll be once he’s done tenderizing her.

She half expects him to lick his chops.

“Allow me, sweet pea.” He leans in close, his dark chin-length hair brushing her chest as he fits his large hands over her smaller ones.

Robin holds her breath. He connects the seatbelt with a soft click, then squeezes her hands before releasing them.

He pats her knee. “There now. Safe and sound.”

Read the rest of “Little Red” on Bellesa.co

“Unconventional Methods” is Now Live on Bellesa.co

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Click to read now. (External Link)

It’s a sad day when we have to bid goodbye to a diverse and sex-positive erotica publisher like Sexy Little Pages. However, with the reversion of rights comes the release of my short, kinky story “Unconventional Methods.”

Originally featured in the anthology Dancing With Myself: Stories of Self-love Erotica, edited by Jillian Boyd, Part One of this story of self-discovery through total submission is now yours to read for FREE on Bellesa.co.

I’ll give you a minute to grab your favorite battery-operated companion before I reintroduce this sexy tale of long-distance dominance and submission.

Read on for an excerpt:

He smiles, his gaze drifting about the screen. “That chemise looks lovely on you, by the way.”

I glance down at the pearlescent silk top and matching shorts. Gone are the tattered tees and flannel pajamas I used to wear to bed. I now have an entire chest of drawers dedicated to undergarments, delicately folded and arranged by color and type. I’ve imagined Daniel running his fingers over the impossibly smooth material before asking the salespeople to wrap each piece carefully for transport. My nipples tighten into points, and I know he can see them. The longing in his gaze is unmistakable.

“Stand so I can look at you,” he says. I set the package on the desk and rise. The fabric caresses my skin as I move. “Turn for me.”

I pivot slowly, careful to keep my outfit within the webcam’s view. Every inch of me is an offering, every word from my mouth an homage. By the time I make it back around, he only has one hand on the desk in front of him.

Tension gathers between my thighs. He smooths his closely cropped beard.

“Now,” he says, “let me see those gorgeous nipples.”

My breath catches. My clit throbs. I want to rub myself but he hasn’t ordered me to, and although we’re an ocean apart and my hands are still my own, I will have to wait because that’s what I’ve agreed to do. I slide the chemise’s delicate straps off my shoulders and draw the garment down below my breasts.

Daniel pins his tongue between his teeth. “Touch them.”

I lift and knead my breasts. My nipples tingle as I flick them gently, drawing a line of pleasure from my breasts straight to my core. I close my eyes and imagine that my hands are Daniel’s. A soft moan floats from my mouth.

“Pinch them,” he says. I squeeze my nipples and flinch at the jolt of pain. He leans toward his laptop screen. “Again. Harder.”

I obey, biting my lips together to stop myself from making noise.

“God, that makes my cock ache,” he says, his eyes half-lidded. I smile. My pain turns him on, and knowing he’s rock-hard and happy turns me on. He sits back in his chair, both hands on the desk. “You may open your present now.”

Frustration and curiosity vie for space inside me. Curiosity wins.

Read Part One of “Unconventional Methods” on Bellesa.co*

*Part Two is now available as well. Click through to access both.

Sisters in Smut: Lessons from the Savvy Author’s Toolkit

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Greetings, my lovelies! I hope you’re all doing well.

There’s been a bit of a setback regarding the release of Chemical [se]X, Vol. 2: Just One More, but rest assured it is on its way!

In the meantime, join me this week on the Sisters in Smut blog for a primer on creating your own promotional images.

And stay tuned because I have a kinky short story coming to Bellesa on March 6th!

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“House Rules” Finds a New Home At Bellesa

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Happy 2019!

There’s so much to be pumped about as we head into the new year. First we have the release of Chemical [se]X, Volume 2, Just One More slated for this Valentine’s Day, as well as The Sexy Librarian’s Dirty 30, Volume 3 in the springI’m about to dive into a brand new project that I look forward to sharing with you later this year.

If you want to receive updates about these and future projects, be sure and subscribe to my monthly newsletter.

In the meantime, I have a new (old) story available for your reading pleasure. Originally published in the erotica anthology Surprising Myself from Insatiable Press, my kinky short story “House Rules” is now FREE to read on Bellesa.co.

Enjoy a steamy excerpt below.

“Turn over,” he said. I shifted onto my stomach. “This ass could be redder.” Cole’s hand came down hard on my left side, then my right. I whimpered into the bedspread as he landed twelve blows. My skin felt hot. A low hum rumbled up from his throat.

“Beautiful.” He glided his fingertips over both cheeks and onto my thighs, which he eased apart and moved between. I gasped as he slid two fingers inside me and then withdrew. There was a wet, lip-smacking sound, followed by a deep moan. Cole covered me with his body, positioning his cock between my legs. He nipped and sucked my earlobe. “Next time, I’m going to go down on you until you beg me to stop. And then, you know what I’ll do?”

“What will you do, Sir?” My insides melted at the possibility of there being a next time.

“I won’t.”

Read “House Rules” on Bellesa.co

A (Bitter)sweet and Sexy Treat

Pumpkin Bucket Filled With Various Wrapped CandiesAll Hallows’ Eve is nearly upon us.

Over the past month, I’ve been gorging myself on horror movies (the good and the dreadful) in between the day job, WIP revisions, and writing sprints.

I have so much stuff to share with you, including a brand new erotic story over at Bellesa.co, plus some social media developments and new ways to keep in touch.

Let’s dig in!

First off, I now have a mailing list. If you’d like to be the first to know when I put out a new story or when my next anthology is up for preorder, go ahead and click the subscribe link below. This mailing list isn’t a newsletter so much as a method for sharing news (if that makes sense).

Basically, I’ll only email you when something important is afoot. No spam ever. Promise.

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I also created a Pinterest account where I pin pretty and interesting things like old Victorian homes and sexy people who inspire me. This week it’s half-naked dudes with (and without) beverages.

 

Yummy.

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I have a new post up over at the Sisters in Smut blog called “Busting the Writer’s Ghost.” In keeping with the holiday, I introduce you to my own personal ghosts and explore some common writerly fears and offer advice on how to quell them. If I’m particularly skilled at anything (besides writing smut) it’s being stubborn enough to keep at the dream in the midst of a destructive thought storm.

You can check out that post here.

No tricks, just treats: my new short story from Bellesa.co

spiritualistic seance by candlelight close-up“Haunted Hearts: A Ghost Story” is a bittersweet, sexy—and dare I say haunting—tale about an eccentric widow, Rose Abbot, who taps into the mysterious power of her own grief to reconnect with her late husband.

Written with Alice Hoffman’s Practical Magic and Sarah Addison Allen’s Garden Spells in mind, “Haunted Hearts: A Ghost Story” is brimming with love and bursting with magic.

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Read an excerpt below.

Rose drew the box of Ethan’s ashes into her lap. It was a simple dark wood box with a bronze latch. Not heavy, but substantial enough that she couldn’t pretend it wasn’t there. Unable to reconcile how a man who had been larger than life could be made to fit inside such a small vessel, she began looking for a place to set the box down. First, she tried the mantel, but that didn’t feel right. Then Ethan’s trophy case, but that wouldn’t do either.

Cradling the box, Rose wandered the house, making streaks in the dust on the furniture with her fingers. She skimmed her hands over Ethan’s clothes and their shared bookshelves, until a spark like a carpet shock zapped her as she touched one particular volume.

Her grandmother’s grimoire. A heavy tome bursting at its covers with spells and recipes for all manner of ills. She pulled it from the shelf.

Setting the box on the big oak desk, Rose leafed through the well-worn pages until she found what she had unknowingly been looking for: a spell to summon a spirit to you. The instructions, scrawled in her grandmother’s looping hand, said to bundle five sprigs of thyme, twelve strands of the deceased’s hair and one other personal item into a small pouch to be worn around the neck of the caster from noon until the sun went down.

Rose glanced at the clock. It was already half-past eleven.

Acting quickly, she fetched her husband’s hairbrush from the bathroom cabinet. As for the “other item,” she reckoned it couldn’t get more personal than one’s own ashes. For the pouch, she scrabbled together a small drawstring pocket tied with a leather cord. Then, she hurried downstairs to the attached greenhouse, praying the cold outside hadn’t weaseled in and strangled the herbs.

In the kitchen, she got to work threading thyme sprigs with Ethan’s honey-blond hair. Careful not to tear the stitches, she eased the bundle into the drawstring pocket. The ashes dusted her fingers as she gathered up a handful. Careful not to spill, she sprinkled the sandy cremains into the pouch.

With the charm around her neck, Rose parked herself in Ethan’s favorite reading chair and waited.

She waited all afternoon.

As the last of the sun’s rays disappeared behind the garden fence, so too did Rose’s optimism. What had she expected? A phone call from the great beyond? She wasn’t enough of a sucker to believe in Heaven, though she’d been fool enough to think that her strangeness could actually be useful for once.

Ethan wasn’t coming back. That should’ve been obvious.

Tearing the pouch from her neck, Rose marched through the living room and threw open the French doors. Cold air pricked the parts of her not shielded by her nightgown. With a howling snarl, she hurled the pouch out into the snow.

Rose slammed the doors and then slid to the floor, curling in upon herself like a dying spider.

Having sobbed herself to sleep, she didn’t notice the breeze on her skin or the strong arms that carried her up to bed like a child. It wasn’t until she woke squinting into the darkness of her bedroom, confused and disoriented, that she sensed the heat against her back and an arm around her midriff.

“Ethan?”

Lips brushed the nape of her neck. Fear seized like burnt chocolate in her stomach as hope ballooned in her chest. Sliding her hand under the covers, Rose traced the length of the arm across her belly until she found fingers.

“Say something,” she whispered.

The hand on her stomach slid to her breast. She shivered. If this wasn’t Ethan, then it could only be a stranger. Had she forgotten to lock the doors after she’d thrown the pouch into the snow? She couldn’t remember.

Bracing for the fight of her life, Rose balled her fists and turned to confront her silent bedmate.

Moonlight spilled onto the other half of the bed. It was empty.

The spell had worked.

“Wait.” She pawed at the sheets but found no trace of Ethan. “Come back. Come back, I’m here!”

Had she dreamt the feel of his hands and lips, or worse, lost her chance to reunite with her husband?

No. He had to still be around. She just needed a way to make contact.

Rose ran to the kitchen for a shot glass and a marker. Back in the bedroom, she folded up the threadbare rug to reveal a strip of hardwood on which she scrawled an arching alphabet, plus the words YES and NO. She laid the upturned shot glass on the floor and placed her finger on top.

“Ethan, are you still here?”

Nothing happened, not for a good long while, though the air around her felt charged and leaden. As if pushed by an invisible hand, the shot glass slid across the floor to YES.

Rose stared in amazement as the glass spelled out, HELLO ROSIE.

Click the image below to read the rest on Bellesa.co.Male and female hands silhouette, almost touch each-other