OUT OF CONTROL comes out in print 4/7/15

My Golden Flogger- and Readers’ Choice Award-nominated BDSM romance, Out of Control, releases in paperback on Tuesday, April 7. In honor of that and of the Masturbation Monday blog hop, I thought I’d post a seriously racy excerpt. (Warning: clicking on that link will, not surprisingly, pull up a page with some images that are even less safe for work than my words are. Do check out the page when you can; there will be links to other fun, sexy posts by other authors and you really out to check them out, but not when it’s going to get you fired!)

Jen had waited so long to touch Drake Matthews. Waited forever, it seemed, even though she’d known him such a short time. Drake’s skin was hot, as if he burned inside, and that heat and his hard cock belied the distance in his gray eyes. It was their color, she decided. He couldn’t help looking cool and far-off with eyes of that shade, but the intensity in them, the grip of his big hands—one on her hip the other grasping the knot of rope at her back—was anything but remote. When she brushed her hands over his nipples, he gasped as if he held back a louder sound. She lingered there, watching his control waver, reveling in it until he hissed, “Enough!”

She explored down from there in wonderful retaliation. The ridges of his abs looked like sculpture, but they were flesh. Suede skin over improbably toned muscle, sure, but flesh nonetheless. They yielded under her fingers. They’d be warm and slightly salty if she licked, but when she tried to duck down, Drake tugged up on the rope harness, keeping her in place. Her hands could move, though, and they did, down to that glorious cock. One hand cupped his balls, rolling them gently, enjoying their heft and the way they changed as she touched them. The other circled his cock. She stroked up the length firmly, passed over the smooth head.

All the while she looked, not down at Drake’s cock, tempting as it was, but up at his face. At the way that mask of remoteness and control cracked. His eyes were closed now, and without their gray, acute gaze, he looked…different. Not softer but less distant. The chiseled planes of his face didn’t do soft and his muscles, if anything, seemed more defined as he struggled to maintain his composure. He was losing. His face was darker, flushed with arousal. His head was thrown back. The muscles in his neck stood out.

Then he shook himself. “Enough,” he barked. He almost sounded angry, but the way he touched her as he guided her to lie on the futon bed didn’t feel angry.

He kissed her and slipped the blindfold on while she was still savoring his lips.

Jen fought down a flash of panic at the darkness, lost without the anchor of vision. A sliver of light peeked under the bottom of the blindfold, though, despite the fleece. It didn’t let her see anything, but still it reassured her, let her go on breathing normally.

Once she could relax, she realized without the lush distraction of vision, her other senses fed her more information. The rope around her torso and breasts became simultaneously more confining and more embracing. More sensual, as if it hadn’t been sensual enough to start with. She was aware not only of Drake’s hands on her, but his breath playing on his skin, his clean, yet musky scent. He positioned her on the bed, pulled the ends of the rope wrap on her torso to either side. He wrapped the ropes around her wrists, making quick, simple loops.

Her breath quavered in her throat as he then did something that immobilized her wrists to either side. It wasn’t stringent. She could still move a little, but she found she didn’t really want to.

Drake moved down the bed, keeping one hand lightly on her body. She supposed it was so she’d know where he was and not feel abandoned, but she would have known anyway, aware now of the movement of air, the sound of his bare feet on the wooden floor, though he moved quietly for such a big man.

She couldn’t help jumping as Drake fastened something—a leather cuff, she thought—on her ankle. The cuff was lined with something soft, like the blindfold, but with a leather border that felt cool and decisive on her skin. Unfamiliar, but a good unfamiliar. He moved her leg farther out, spreading her even wider. A small snick that she placed as a carbineer attaching to one of the D-rings on the frame only when she realized she couldn’t move that leg, and by then Drake had moved on, repeating the process on the other side. She wasn’t spread wide enough to be uncomfortable but enough to feel pleasant tension in her thighs. The air kissed her pussy, accenting how very wet she was.

He drew back once he finished, now not touching her. Jen felt the weight of his presence at the foot of the bed, felt him looking at her spread-eagled, appreciating the view and his handwork, the crimson ropes on her fair skin. “Bondage suits you. His voice stroked her skin, warm and seductive, and then he fell silent. Was he touching himself? She thought she heard slight movement, but it could be anything.

And since it could be anything, she pictured him stroking along the length of his big cock, hard and needy already but making himself more so for her. For them both. This was going to be a quickie, after all. The ropes, the confinement, had her wet and ready enough she’d go off fast, but Drake struck her as the kind of guy who was so used to holding back to make sure his partner went crazy that he might need encouragement to let go.

What a lovely “problem” to have.

He’s got her tied up, but she’s got him out of control.

Glass artist Jen Kessler has hit the jackpot—a cheap apartment in a charming Victorian house, complete with a sexy, intense, buttoned-down landlord…who may or may not have a riding crop in his bedroom.

She’s not looking for a lover, but when her innocent, impulsive hug sparks kisses as hot a molten glass, it leads to bondage, spankings, and more naughtiness that, up to now, she had only tasted.

His new tenant may have wild, dyed hair and an unconventional job, but Cornell math professor Drake Matthews admires the work ethic that got her out of debt. Then he’s stunned at how quickly she destroys decades of his carefully cultivated self control.

Soon their sexual and emotional passions push them to the edge—and beyond. But it’s not all good, dirty fun. As Drake takes more and more control of Jen in the bedroom, her deeply ingrained independent streak pushes back. And it’ll take more than a shared penchant for ropes, paddling, and coffee to overcome pasts that could unravel their relationship before it begins.

Warning: Contains kinky sex, molten glass, geeky higher mathematics, family secrets, and irresponsible consumption of coffee.

Tactile paper: Samhain / Amazon / B&N

Convenient ebook: Samhain / Amazon  / Amazon UK / B&N / Kobo