Blurb
Passion is the journey. Love is the destination.
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 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?
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.
*****
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Bio
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 rout 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 and
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.
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