Sunday Snog #186: The Understudy

It’s Sunday again. You know what that means. Another sexy kiss excerpt. And today, another chance to win a free book!

The kiss in this week’s excerpt is barely there. However, the emotional intensity compensates for its brevity (or at least that’s what I think). The snog comes from my M/F BDSM erotic romance The Understudy, one of my personal favorites.

Is there a future in playing stand-in to a slave?

Sarah Gladstone was thrilled to be offered her first real acting job at the Berks Summer Playhouse. She never expected to be working ith theatre legend Geoffrey Hart. The charismatic actor quickly brings her under his spell, not to mention his control, as he initiates her into the dark delights of BDSM. He offers her far more than physical pleasure; they share a level of intimacy and trust beyond anything Sarah could have imagined.

According to the rumours, though, Geoff's heart is taken. Renowned actress Anne Merrill, his long time partner and submissive lover, has severed their relationship and Hart has escaped to the Berkshires to lick his emotional wounds. With her youth, inexperience, and girl-next-door persona, Sarah knows that she can't compete with the glamorous theatre veteran. She fears that she's just a substitute for the real object of Geoff's affections. As he draws her deeper into his intoxicating games of dominance and submission, Sarah wonders if she's willing to settle for the role of understudy in this perverse passion play.

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Fifteen minutes to go. There was that expectant hush that I had come to love, the brief taut moments before the curtain rises. The musicians were warming up. The cast gathered backstage, stretching or meditating or quietly conversing. Geoffrey was not among them. I made my way through the back corridors of the theatre to his dressing room. I had to see him again. I couldn’t help myself.

As I raised my knuckles to the door, it opened. Geoffrey stood before me in full costume, plump with padding, his hair sprinkled with artificial grey, his features made thick and common with make-up. Nevertheless his eyes were still the eyes of my master.

“Sarah!” He sounded concerned and my heart took a little leap.

“Mr. Hart—sir—I had to see you.” I stared down at my shoes, knowing that I was breaking all sorts of rules.

“To wish me luck?” he asked with gentle mockery.

“Yes, of course, but—I…” My mouth felt desert-dry, my tongue like sandpaper. “May I come to your room tonight? After the performance?”

He cupped my chin and raised my eyes to his. “You want more, little one?”

“Yes,” I whispered, ignoring the blood that climbed into my cheeks and the juices trickling down my thighs. “Please…”

“Not tonight. You need to heal.”

“I’m fine. Really. It hardly hurts at all…”

“I think you’d find yourself retracting that statement ten minutes into our scene. No, tonight is too soon.”

“But…”

“No buts, girl! You’ll come when I summon you, and not before. Do you understand?”

The sudden authority in his voice sent a delicious thrill up my spine that slightly blunted my disappointment.

“Um—yes, sir.” How could I argue with him, without violating the entire spirit of our relationship? But a shred of rebellion still fluttered in my chest.

He grazed his lips across mine, the barest touch. My nipples turned to hot coals under my costume.

“Don’t worry, girl. I’m far from done with you. Now, get out there and break a leg.”

Turning me around like some wayward child, he pushed me back into the corridor and closed the door. I felt the marks of his fingers on my behind, even when I stepped onto the stage.

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