After a sizzling encounter in DEMON HEELS, a quirky all-night shoe store, with the store’s hot owner, FINN MASTERS, JILL HART walks away in the most gorgeous boots ever. Her new boots come with an unexpected bonus, a sexy demon named ELEANOR, who’s looking for a good time. All she lacks is a body, and Jill’s will do nicely.
Jill quits her dead-end job and, not knowing what’s come over her stops by the nearest pub intent on doing tequila shots until she falls off the stool. Instead she does FINN MASTERS in the beer garden, unwittingly participating in her first ever threesome. The boots were the bait, the timing was right and Eleanor has new digs. It’s Finn job to prevent Eleanor’s misbehaving. His failure means he’ll have to ride shotgun and do damage control until Eleanor moves out at the next full moon.
With Eleanor in residence, Jill’s bolder, sexier, willing to take risks. But is she a whole new Jill, or is it just demon courage? And how will Finn feel about her when she’s just plain Jill again? Will the maddeningly magical ménage make Jill’s dreams come true, or will it break her heart?
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*****
Excerpt:
There was a soft
knock on the door and Meinrad entered the room with several hanks of what looked
like ordinary rope. He nodded his greeting to Finn, then his gaze came to rest
on Jill, and she felt her entire body blush at his inspection. ‘Turn around,’
he said.
She obeyed.
He made some sound
low in his throat that could have passed as either approval or not. Then he
placed a large hand on her shoulder and turned her back to face him. She
noticed he wore the Kinky Boots uniform T-shirt stretched tight across his very
broad chest. The shop name was punctuated by the hard pressure of nipples on muscular
pecs. The black jeans he wore rode low on his hips. The wave of lust that
rushed over her was staggering. How had she not noticed how sexy he was?
Then Finn moved to
stand beside him, and she understood. Even though Meinrad was by far the larger
man, Finn dominated the room. Finn dominated the space. Finn dominated every
second of the last twenty-four hours of her life, as though he had shoved his
way in and pushed everything else out. It did things to her, that thought,
things that were way beyond lust, things that were a lot more frightening than
being possessed by a demon.
He stood gazing down
at her from some neutral distance that made her feel very much alone, as though
the world and everyone in it had receded, leaving her to await her fate.
Eleanor was keeping a low profile. Finn spoke without preamble. ‘Unless
something’s hurting you, while Meinrad’s binding you, you’re not to speak.
You’re only to move when he moves you. You’re to do exactly as he says. You’re
to accept what he does to you in total passivity. Is that clear?’
‘Is he going to fuck
me?’ She was embarrassed the minute she said it but it was too late to take it
back.
‘If I want him to,
yes,’ Finn said.
If Finn wanted him
to. Dear God, what was she doing? Suddenly she felt unsteady on her feet. She
didn’t know Meinrad. Not like she knew Finn. And yet the thought of the big man
hammering her with his enormous cock while she was all trussed up was at least
as exciting as it was uncomfortable. The thought that he would do so only at
Finn’s bidding excited her even more.
‘There’ll be no safe
word,’ Finn continued. ‘All you have to do is tell Meinrad to stop. Or if at
any time he thinks you’re not fit to continue, he’ll stop, and that’ll be that.
Are we clear?’
She nodded. ‘And what
about you?’
‘Meinrad’s acting on
my behalf.’ Finn held her in a cool gaze. ‘He’ll do as I say, and so will you,
unless you choose at any point not to play.’ For a long moment he studied her,
as though he might see something, perhaps some flaw, perhaps some weakness, she
didn’t know what. He seemed too far away to tell. She held her breath. Waiting.
At last he blinked
and stepped back, still holding her gaze. ‘I’ll ask you again, Jill. Are you
sure this is what you want?’
She nodded, afraid
to speak for fear her heart would jump out of her throat. Then she remembered
to breathe again.
Finn said nothing.
He took her hands in his and offered them to Meinrad, who took both her wrists
in one huge palm and tied them across one another in a simple looped knot from
which she could have easily escaped if she’d wanted. Then he led her to the bed
and guided her onto it. There, he secured her hands to the headboard with
several feet of slack, enough to allow him to work around her and at the same
time allow Finn to observe from every angle. A quick glance over her shoulder
revealed Finn had pulled a ladder back chair to the side of the bed and sat
emotionlessly looking on. A quick glance was all she got before Meinrad settled
her into a kneeling position facing the wall with her hands resting on the
headboard.
In the beginning, it
felt as though she were being decorated with rope; that’s the best way Jill
could describe what Meinrad was doing to her. The rope was softer than she
expected it to be and not unpleasant against her bare skin. The embarrassment
she felt came, flashed hot, then passed as Meinrad looped the rope and
efficiently placed knots above her breasts and then below and then tightened
and cinched his efforts until the harnessing effect squeezed and pinched and
offered up each of her breasts in a tight little nest of rope, like ripe fruit
topped by the cherry-hard rise of her nipples. She’d always had sensitive
breasts and to have them so handled and bound made her whole chest burn with a
need that was replicated in her pussy.
Meinrad worked in
complete silence, his hands moving over her body as though she were nothing
more than the canvas for what he was creating. His touch was exacting and his
rhythm as he worked was hypnotic. Early on she realised that one of his hands
was on her at all times. She remembered basic knot training from her childhood
days in the Girl Guides. Right over left and under and through. Left over right
and under and through. Rope threaded through competent fingers, rope slid over
bare skin, coiling, twisting, binding, descending right over left and left over
right, pressing a column of knots down the length of her spine before looping
around her waist and embracing her belly. Again. And again. Yes, she was his
canvas, and what he created took its shape against her flesh, but his art
didn’t happen without exacting a price from him, and in her peripheral vision,
as he reached around her to secure a knot over her navel, she caught a glimpse
of the erection set tight in his black jeans, and she felt the hitch of his
breathing not quite hidden in the rhythm of right over left, left over right.
As he crossed the ropes around her body, she felt the heat of his breath
whisper along her back next to the weaving and twisting and soft swishing of
the rope along her spine.
With a tug of the
rope every pore of her body responded to the tightening just as he nestled a
knot against the pucker of her bottom and her gasp sounded like a rush of wind
in the stretching silence. Meinrad gave a little pull and her clit hardened in
empathy with the pressure between her buttocks. Then without warning, he
slipped an arm around her and turned her over as he pulled two strands of rope
up between her legs, up tight against her upper thighs like the elastic of knickers,
or a tightly cinched climber’s harness. That done, with a deft movement of his
fingers he secured a knot just over her clit, and this time she cried out in
the strange mix of discomfort and arousal. The whole gape of her was pressed between
the two strands of rope, knotted at fore and aft like a ship, narrow and
thick-hulled.
There was barely
time to get used to the strange rub and pressure between her legs, or the knot
that felt like the tip of a thick finger attempting to breach her bottom, before
Meinrad began to bind her thighs to her lower legs and ankles, making the
position in which she knelt mandatory. With each knot, with each looping of the
rope, he forced her bent legs further apart until she was wide open, yet at the
same time held closed by the ropes between her legs. Bound and kneeling on the
bed, she tried to breathe deeply, tried to fight back the panic of her own
helplessness, something she had never experienced before. She was dangerously
close to hyperventilating, and Eleanor seemed to be completely absent from the
whole event.
‘Shall I continue?’
Meinrad asked.
*****
K D Grace believes
Freud was right. In the end, it really IS all about sex, well sex and love. And
nobody’s happier about that than she, cuz otherwise, what would she write
about?
When she’s not
writing, K D is veg gardening or walking. She walks her stories, and she’s
serious about it. She and her husband recently walked the Coast to Coast route across England. For her, inspiration is directly proportionate to how quickly
she wears out a pair of walking boots.
K D has erotica
published with Xcite Books, Harper Collins Mischief Books, Mammoth, Cleis
Press, Black Lace, Erotic Review, Ravenous Romance, Sweetmeats Press and
others.
K D’s critically
acclaimed erotic romance novels include, The Initiation of Ms Holly, The Pet
Shop. Her paranormal erotic novel, Body Temperature and Rising, the first book
of her Lakeland Heatwave trilogy, was listed as honorable mention on Violet
Blue’s Top 12 Sex Books for 2011. Book two, Riding the Ether, is now available.
K D Grace also
writes hot romance as Grace Marshall.
