Beyond Romance: Sizzling Sunday: The Ingredients of Bliss (#BDSM #menage #SizzlingSunday)

Ready to sizzle? It’s Sunday again, so I’ve searched out another X-rated excerpt for your reading pleasure. If you’re not comfortable with explicit fiction – maybe you should visit someone else’s blog!

Today’s sizzling excerpt is from my BDSM ménage novel, The Ingredients of Bliss.

One sexy French chef. One kinky American TV producer. One ambitious Chinese gal who thinks she wants them both. The ingredients of bliss? Or a recipe for disaster?

“Oh! That tickles!” I jerked as Harry brushed the feather duster over my bare buttocks. He had arranged me in one of his favorite positions, on my belly with my hips elevated by a pillow. Tonight he’d also spread my legs and tied my ankles to the corners of the bed—for greater accessibility, he’d asserted with a cheeky grin—though he’d left my arms unbound.

“Oh, please—oh, no!” His fluffy instrument of torture whispered its way along my rear crevice then fluttered against the sensitive skin of my inner thigh.

“Harry…oh…oh…no…ah…”

I writhed, trying without success to escape the maddening brush of the feathers. My frantic struggles ground my pubis against the supporting cushion, further stimulating my already aching clit. If only he’d stop teasing! I was desperate to feel him inside me again.

“Be still, slut!” He landed a solid slap on my bum. The sting provided a brief, welcome relief from the unbearable tickling. “Or would you prefer the strap?”

“I think I would, to be honest.”

“Well, to be honest, I enjoy seeing you squirm. You look delicious.” He traced the feathers up my spine.

I couldn’t help myself. I reached behind me to snatch the irritating duster away from him and toss it to the floor. “Oh, Emily, you’ll pay for that! What a naughty sub you are!”

Instead of punishing me, though, he straddled me and trailed a line of tantalizing, wet kisses up my back. Settling his familiar weight on top of me, he nuzzled the spot between my shoulder blades. Lovely heat shimmered through me. His cock wedged itself into the crevice between my rear cheeks. Constrained both by my bonds and his body, I shifted awkwardly on the pillow. I had to get that lovely bulk lined up with the entrance to my pussy.

“Oh no you don’t…!” Harry reacted by scooting up higher, so that his cockhead pressed into the curve just above my butt. “Who’s in control here?” He nipped my shoulder.

“Ow! You—but…”

“Who decides when you get fucked?” Was he really annoyed? I couldn’t tell.

“Ah—you do, Harry.” I tried to relax and lie still, as he’d commanded. He’d give me satisfaction, sooner or later. He always did.

“Maybe I should just make you wait…” His actions didn’t match his scolding tone in the least, though. Raising his hips and reaching between his legs, he adjusted his cock until the head bumped against my raging clit.

“God, Harry… Please…”