Sizzling Sunday: The Ingredients of Bliss -- #menage #BDSM #romance #cooking

For today’s Sizzling Sunday, I’ve got a new bit from my MFM BDSM ménage novel The Ingredients of Bliss. This book puzzled reviewers a bit, given the complexity of its relationships and the fact that it doesn’t fit well into well known genres. But anyone who has read my work will know that I love defying convention.

Blurb

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?

Accomplished cook Mei Lee ‘Emily’ Wong knows exactly what she wants—her own show on the Tastes of France food channel. But life is full of complications. First, her deceptively nerdy producer, Harry Sanborne, initiates Emily into the delights of submission. Then her boss, legendary chef Etienne Duvalier, begs her to dominate him. Emily just can’t resist—especially when Harry orders her to explore her inner mistress. Suave and sexy Etienne will do whatever she asks—in the bedroom if not in the kitchen. And Harry, her lovingly diabolical Dom, adores pushing Emily’s limits.

When the network sends the trio to France to shoot a series of cooking shows on location, Emily knows her career is on the upswing. Her plans fall apart in Marseille as a Hong Kong drug syndicate kidnaps both Etienne and Harry. The Iron Hammer Triad mistakes Etienne for notorious gangster Jean Le Requin, who has stolen their drug shipment, worth millions. Emily realizes she must find the real Le Requin, retrieve the purloined dope, and bargain it for Harry’s and Etienne’s lives. The secret she’s been keeping from Harry might prove useful. Still, what chance does one woman whose knife skills are limited to chopping vegetables have against the ruthless cruelty of two criminal organizations?

“You don’t have to be ashamed or embarrassed,” Harry added. “All we want—both of us—is to satisfy you. To please you and make you happy. Can’t you just accept that?”

Harry hooked an arm around my neck and pulled me down into lush kiss. His tongue was assertive as ever, yet I caught a hint of uncertainty in his manner. Under his brashness, he worried that I’d reject the solution he and Etienne had worked out. If I did, would I choose him, or the suave, glamorous chef?

I relaxed and let him plunder my mouth, offering reassurance via my physical surrender. His hands roamed over my body, visiting all the sensitive spots he’d discovered in our months together. There was no pain now, only bliss, pouring from him into me.

Warmth pressed against my back. I smelled vanilla and thyme. Etienne’s fingers joined Harry’s, tracing along the top of my corset. He stroked the tender flesh under my arm, making me shiver, then let his palm wander down my side to the curve of my hip. His uncharacteristic boldness increased the thrill of his touch. You’ll be sorry, I thought, giddy with desire, as Harry continued his hungry kisses. I’ll trash your butt until you can’t sit down.

Etienne knew he’d be punished. We both knew that was part of his motivation.

Only part, though. I felt the hair lifted off my neck, the moist, gentle pressure of Etienne’s lips between my shoulder blades. The eloquence of that simple gesture almost brought tears to my eyes. I eased my lips away from Harry’s, beaming him a look I hoped was full of love. Then I swiveled to offer my mouth to Etienne.

The chef accepted my kiss with the eagerness of a starving man. He opened to the probing of my tongue, letting me drink my fill of him. I tasted the walnut mousse he’d sampled earlier at L’Auberge de Francois-Martine and the Courvoisier he’d used to wash it down. Under it all, I caught a hint of some half-bitter flavor that reminded me of rainy autumn afternoons in Jardin les Tuileries. As I kissed him, I realized I’d been craving this since the first day he’d graced me with that haughty smile.

While his mouth was subservient, his hands became increasingly more brazen, palming my breasts and thumbing my nipples, then sneaking down to tease my lower lips. Meanwhile, Harry was busy unlacing my corset. I hadn’t appreciated how much the garment had constrained me until he managed to slip it off, somehow without breaking the lip-to-lip connection between Etienne and me.

I paused to draw in a lungful of the sex-scented air and looked from one man to the other. Had Harry minded my kissing Etienne? Did Etienne think I was rejecting him for Harry?

Both of my lovers wore broad smiles. Relief washed over me. The last vestiges of guilt evaporated. And I was too horny to be embarrassed.

“What…what about male ego?” I gasped, as Etienne’s fingers delved into my cleft and found my clit. “I thought—oh, yes!—thought that you all see other guys as threats, challenges to your masculinity…”

Harry urged me onto my hands and knees and buried his face between my thighs. He slithered his tongue into my channel while Etienne continued to stroke tingling nub at my center. A new climax gathered deep in my pelvis—I’d lost count of how many times I’d come, by this point—encouraged by the wet shock of Harry’s tongue circling my rear hole.

“Other guys,” Harry replied, taking a breather before returning to lick me into a further frenzy.

“Not us,” Etienne agreed, diddling my clit with one hand while stroking his gorgeous erection with the other. I imagined that lovely cock pounding into my cunt. I could make those fantasies real. All I had to do was ask.

“We’d rather share you than lose you, love.” On his knees behind me, Harry ran his cockhead along my slick crevice, then pushed inside, filling my pussy with delicious, familiar hardness. He waited, letting me adjust to the welcome intrusion. I closed my eyes, focused on the bliss rippling through me.

Satin-soft skin brushed my lips, leaving a residue of moisture. My eyes flew open to find Etienne kneeling before me, presenting his cock for my consumption.

His eyes shone, blue as a summer sky. “If I could be so bold…”

I lunged forward and swallowed the whole sleek length of him. Etienne trembled on my tongue, but didn’t move or thrust, awaiting my instructions like the good submissive he was.

I sucked hard, my nose in the musky tangles of his pubic hair. His fists clenched by his sides, he fought his natural inclinations.

Sweet—so very sweet…

Harry drove deep, taking me over. The sensations dragged my attention back to the tantalizing ache building in my core. Yet another climax shimmered in the near distance, with Harry pushing me closer with every thrust.

Lovely, bossy, kinky, sensitive Harry, who claimed me as his slave only to devote himself to my pleasure.

I must have been a saint in a previous life, to deserve such luck in this one.

The Ingredients of Bliss is available in ebook and print. Get your copy from Totally Bound, Amazon, Barnes and Noble, or your own personal favorite bookstore.

Fear of Flying - #mash-up #steampunk #risks

It would have been much faster to fly.

Alas, Cecily Harrowsmith—special agent for Her Majesty the Queen, expert in the martial arts of three continents, past mistress of princes, potentates and the occasional prime minister—was afraid of flying. She despised herself for this weakness, but not enough to board one of the Empire’s sleek, viridium-powered airships, strap herself into her seat and hope for the best.

Hence the current tedious journey. Cecily peered out of the window of her carriage at the endless expanse of russet-coloured desert stretching in all directions. The mere sight of all that sand was enough to make her throat burn. She sipped her tepid tea, wondering for the twentieth time why she’d accepted this bloody assignment.

Thus begins my sixth novel, Rajasthani Moon, a book that deliberately defies categorization. It contains elements of the steam punk and paranormal sub-genres, plus quite a lot of moderately extreme BDSM and a M/F/M ménage. It features a kick-ass Rubenesque heroine, a billionaire Rajah and a sexy, deliciously disreputable bandit. It flirts with non-consensual fantasies and lesbian attraction. It has some funny moments, not infrequently associated with sex. Oh, and it's a romance, with what I hope is a sublimely satisfying happy ending (although I won't tell you who ends up with whom!)

Writing this book involved taking risks. I've observed how readers cling to their favorite genres. I broke rules right and left with this novel. Would the market embrace my mash-up? Or would readers run away in droves, terrified of the unfamiliar?

Producing the same sort of stories, again and again, can be comfortable. It may help sales, too. To grow as authors, though, we have to leave safety behind. We must step out onto that high pinnacle of creativity and let go, defying the fear that we'll plummet ignominiously to the ground. We have to get over our fear of flying.

Rajasthani Moon was like nothing I'd written before. Well, that's not strictly true. Like most of my books, it has plenty of erotic content. What I mean is that I've never felt so free as I did writing this book. I gave myself permission to follow my imagination, no matter how wild its suggestions. I found this difficult at first. The further I ventured out onto my self-constructed limb, though, the easier I found the process.

The result? Well, I'm pleased with it. I have no idea what other people will think. But I am not going to worry. That's out of my control.

And Cecily? She conquers her fear, too, eventually:

The passenger compartment was about ten feet long. Its walls were chest height. A canopy shaded one end, including the brass and quartz crystal control panel. The other was open to the sky, though the gas bag a dozen feet above them shielded them from the most direct rays of the sun. She was not surprised to discover that the floor was covered by multiple layers of intricately-patterned carpets and strewn with fat, multi-hued pillows. The Rajasthanis seemed to have little use for furniture.

Amir busied himself at the controls while Pratan lounged on the cushions, looking rakish and indolent. “Come here, Cecily,” he ordered. “Sometimes the take-off is a bit bumpy.”

Her heartbeat accelerated and her palms started to sweat at this reminder of what lay ahead. She gave him a sharp look. She could have sworn he was suppressing a chuckle.

Nevertheless, she reclined beside him, as he’d instructed. He slipped his arm around her shoulder and held her tight against his chest. His strength reassured her, but she still felt as though her stomach was turning somersaults.

A low frequency vibration hummed under them as Amir started the engine.

“Here we go,” called the Rajah. “Prepare to lift off.”

“Kiss me,” said Pratan. He took possession of her mouth without waiting for her acquiescence.

Amir released the tethers binding the dirigible to the roof. They retracted into their housings with a snap and the gondola swayed in reaction, springing upward a few feet. Cecily’s heart climbed into her throat. She gritted her teeth against sudden nausea. Pratan’s agile tongue wormed its way between her lips, urging her to relax and open, and the spell passed. Meanwhile, his hands wandered over her body, pulling her loose clothing out of the way so that he could stroke her breasts and belly.

His scent enveloped her, sandalwood and smoke superimposed on animal musk. The wolf had not returned since their encounter on Mount Abu, but Pratan still smelt like something feral. He burrowed into her, sucking on her tongue and nibbling her lips, while his fingers teased her nipples into hungry knots. Cecily moaned as the pleasure mounted. She lay back, cradled in the nest of cushions, and allowed him free access.

~ ~ ~

Rajasthani Moon is available at all your favorite bookstores. 

Amazon:  https://www.amazon.com/Rajasthani-Moon-Lisabet-Sarai-ebook/dp/B00D47R9E6

BN: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/rajasthani-moon-lisabet-sarai/1115449469?ean=9781781846452

Totally Bound: https://www.totallybound.com/index.php?route=product/product&product_id=2135

Nothing forbidden. Nothing held back. @TinaDonahue #menage #eroticromance #wicked

Series Blurb

South Florida just got a helluva lot steamier… During the day, the staff at Wicked Brand makes ink dreams a reality for their appreciative clients. After hours, this naughty crew engages in sensual delights as wild as the designs they’re selling. Their motto? Nothing forbidden. Nothing held back.

Wicked Times Two Blurb

She’s through with love and just wants to have some wicked fun...

Burned by her cheating boyfriend, Jasmina is finished with the idea of forever after with any guy. That fairy tale doesn’t exist—at least not for her. From now on, protecting her heart and letting pleasure rule is her motto.

Lucky for her, she has the perfect men in mind. Noah and Kyle, two of the hottest cops in West Palm Beach. She hasn’t been able to get them out of her head since they handled an altercation at Wicked Brand, the tattoo parlor she manages. When they come back to get inked, sparks fly.

Noah’s ready to play, and Kyle’s on board. All they want is her—submission, bondage, spanking…no strings or regrets. Seductive days roll into steamy nights, igniting feelings the guys hadn’t expected and Jasmina can’t deny.

What began as a sensual adventure could turn into so much more…if Jasmina can risk a different kind of love.

Universal buy link: https://entangledpublishing.com/wicked-times-two.html

 

Excerpt

A threesome. Exactly what Jasmina Reyes needed to get out of her dating funk and move on with her life. Who better to get her juices flowing than Noah Guzman and Kyle Loring? The poster boys for badass who stepped out of her fantasies and were now approaching Wicked Brand.

Her pulse ticked up. She leaned against the counter and zeroed in on them like a lust-seeking missile.

Both men were in their early thirties and seriously tall. Six-three if they were an inch. They’d ditched their uniforms for tees and jeans. Their shoulders were broad, hips narrow, their muscular thighs and arms the stuff that generated female wet dreams. They were also West Palm Beach cops, alpha to the core, authoritative and assured. The freaking jackpot.

Kyle and Noah stopped outside the parlor display window.

Jasmina’s belly fluttered. She pushed to her toes and craned her neck to see better. Thankfully, no artist inked a client in the front chair, so she had a decent view of the city’s finest officers.

Wind tousled Kyle’s honey-blond hair, short on the sides and back, longer on top. The thick locks grazed his surprisingly dark eyebrows. Sooty lashes framed his hazel eyes. His bronze complexion made him seem golden, his masculine features sexy as hell.

She held her breath to avoid whimpering in delight.

At his side, Noah was pure sin, almost too handsome to be real. His greenish-gray eyes were intense and somewhat brooding, his olive-toned skin darkened by days in the sun, his wavy black hair long enough to invite a woman to run her fingers through the tresses as she captured his mouth with hers.

Heat poured through Jasmina, weakening her.

If forced to choose between them, she’d plead for both. Each man radiated danger, the kind only a bad boy could project, yet they also afforded protection, treating a woman with respect. They’d done so with Marnie when her ex-boyfriend had attacked her outside the parlor last year. Rather than treat her like a helpless victim or, worse, an instigator in the assault, they’d spoken to her gently. They’d also ignored cop protocol and allowed her to postpone her witness statement so she could attend to her bruised face.

Jasmina sensed they’d be just as considerate in bed, giving rather than merely taking, no matter how wild things got.

Warmth and curiosity rolled through her as to why they were in Northwood Village. The touristy enclave in West Palm Beach didn’t seem like a place they’d frequent on a day off. She pictured them at the beach or a sports bar, possibly a gym where they worked on their pecs and abs, sweat glistening, muscles bunching, veins bulging as they eyed the ladies.

Unless they were here to get a tat.

Their profiles were to her, their attention on someone down the street. Noah inclined his head in greeting to whoever it was, followed by Kyle, their smiles pleasant and welcoming.

Tor, an ink artist here and also Marnie’s boyfriend, joined them. Jasmina bit her lip. She hoped this visit wasn’t about Marnie’s ex getting bail because of a savvy defense attorney. Please, not that. Ethan hadn’t only assaulted her and threatened her life, but he’d attacked Noah and Kyle when they’d intervened. That stupid move was supposed to keep him behind bars for a long time while he faced numerous charges plus a trial.

The guys shook hands and spoke. Tor smiled wide enough to produce his signature dimples.

Knowing him, he wouldn’t be doing that if Kyle and Noah had delivered bad news.

She relaxed. Sort of.

They chatted further, their voices too low for her to capture over the peppy Cuban music that played loudly in here. Maybe she should go outside, see what was up, and say hi. Casually, though, despite her pounding heart and the perspiration rolling down her spine.

The last time she’d seen Kyle and Noah was at Lauren’s wedding months ago. They’d been with dates then. According to Lauren, those relationships were casual, not serious. However, things might have changed…maybe.

During the reception, Kyle and Noah snuck peeks at her while their dates mingled. Kyle couldn’t have been more serene as his date flirted with other guys, his face placid. Carefree seemed to be in his nature. Noah was equally composed but in a self-assured way, like few things ruffled him. Probably good traits to have in their line of work.

Even with an opportunity to make her move on them, Jasmina had held back. She knew what it was like to be cheated on. Casual or not, she would never horn in on someone else’s relationship and hurt another person like she’d been wounded by Brad.

The guys’ smiles faded as Tor continued to talk.

Noah looked over, directly at her, and trapped her with his intent gaze.

She stilled, unable to smile or pull in a breath, lost in his attention.

Tor glanced at her.

That wasn’t as pleasant as Noah’s look and didn’t seem accidental.

What did you say to them?

Noah’s face gave nothing away, his behavior typical cop. Assertive. Assured. Irresistible.

Her legs turned watery. Fierce need overwhelmed her. She craved to be in his arms, their mouths joined, his size and weight confining her.

Kyle glanced at her, too, dismay in his eyes.

What is going on?

About Tina

Tina Donahue is an Amazon and international bestselling novelist writing passionate romance for every taste – “heat with heart” – for traditional publishers and indie. Booklist, Publisher’s Weekly, Romantic Times, and numerous online sites have praised her work. She’s won Readers’ Choice Awards, RWA awards - Holt Medallion and NEC, and won a Book of the Year award. She’s featured in the Novel & Short Story Writer’s Market. Before penning romances, she worked in Story Direction for a Hollywood production company.

You can find her online at:

FB Fanpage: https://www.facebook.com/DonahueTina1/

Email: tinadonahuebooks@gmail.com

Website/Blog: http://tinadonahuebooks.blogspot.com/

Bookbub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/tina-donahue

Goodreads: http://bit.ly/1wFmIu6

Twitter: http://bit.ly/1ziy4IU

Facebook: http://on.fb.me/1Dl8DHy

Triberr: http://bit.ly/1CE2ec7

Pinterest: http://bit.ly/1yFLeMx

Amazon author page: http://amzn.to/1ChWFkO

My page at TRR: http://bit.ly/1vb7eEc

Kensington Author Page: http://www.kensingtonbooks.com/author.aspx/24772

Sweet ‘n Sexy Divas: http://bit.ly/1ChWN3K

Romance Books 4 US: http://bit.ly/1JPtfeS

Dirty Birdies: http://dirtybirdiesauthors.com/about/

Sunday Snog 240: Wild About That Thing (#MFM #interracial #blues)

It’s Sunday again — time for another sizzling kiss excerpt.

I am still trying to figure out what happened with my Sunday Snog post last week. As of today (Saturday the 20^th), I’d gotten nearly 11,000 views on that post. Uh—not to look a gift horse in the mouth or anything, but my posts normally get between 200 and 400 hits. What the heck is going on?

The only thing I could figure out is that maybe the hashtag #interracial was what pulled in readers. Now, even though I’ve written quite a few relationships between black and white characters, I am definitely ambivalent about labeling my stories “interracial”. That seems exploitative to me. When I put characters of different races together, it’s not because I think it’s intrinsically “hot” for a black guy to be with a white woman, or vice versa. My characters may be black or white, Asian or European, but that’s just what they are. Their racial, ethnic and cultural backgrounds tend to be far too complex to encapsulate in a simple label.

Still, I’m trying an experiment, using the same hashtag for this post, which includes an excerpt from another “interracial” ménage story, Wild About That Thing. Here’s the blurb:

There's more than one way to beat the blues.

Two things are important to Ruby Jones: her teenage son and her struggling club, the Crossroads Blues Bar. Her love life comes as a distant third, despite the efforts of Zeke Chambers to convince her otherwise. Zeke's the lead singer in her house band, a devoted friend, and an occasional lover. He can drive her wild with desire, but can't get her to make a commitment. Deserted by her cheating ex-husband, Ruby's determined she's going to make it on her own. She's hot-blooded like her bluesman daddy, happy to satisfy her physical cravings, but she's not about to let any man into her heart.

The stranger who takes the stage on the Crossroads open mike night upsets the delicate balance in Ruby's world. Remy Saint-Michel inspires irrational, irresistible lust as well as inexplicable sympathy. Overwhelmed, confused, guilty and worried about her prized independence, Ruby decides that the only way to deal with her two lovers is to push them both away. Zeke and Remy, though, have other ideas.

I’ve got an X-rated excerpt below that includes a passionate kiss. After you’ve read it, I hope you’ll click over to Victoria’s place, for more sexy Sunday Snogs!

****

He slept beside her, his breathing deep and even. A complex perfume hung in the air of her small bedroom—sweat and semen, pussy and sandalwood incense.

She didn’t want to move, didn’t want to think. She just wanted to lie there with her lover within reach and the rest of the world far away. Being with Zeke seemed to be the only thing that brought her this kind of comfort. She loved Isaiah dearly and enjoyed his company, but in her son’s presence she could never quite banish her worries.

The thought of her son roused her. She leaned over to peer at the alarm clock. When she saw the time, she sighed and gave Zeke a gentle shake.

“Wake up, baby. You’ve gotta go.”

In one smooth motion, Zeke rolled towards her and gathered her into his arms. Her breasts flattened against his furry chest. “Let me stay, hon,” he murmured, nuzzling the sweet spot under her ear. His thickening cock prodded at the sticky juncture of her thighs. “It’s still early…”

“Nearly six,” Ruby replied, relaxing into his embrace despite herself. “Isaiah will be up soon. You know how I feel.”

“You feel wonderful,” Zeke replied, kneading her breast with one hand while wriggling the other between their bodies, down to her pussy. Ruby sucked in her breath as his fingers slipped inside her folds to stroke her clit. “And I can make you feel even better…”

“Zeke…” she began. He stopped her objections with a deep kiss. His moustache tickled her upper lip. She tasted the bourbon he drank between sets. She loved his soft, lush mouth—she couldn’t pretend otherwise. The leisurely way his tongue played with hers suggested that he’d be happy doing nothing but kissing her forever.

“You don’t really want me to go,” he continued when they broke for air. “You’re soaking wet, and your clit—” Ruby moaned as he flicked the swollen nub with one calloused digit. “—your clit is like a little marble.”

“Yes… Oh, God, yes…”

Zeke reared up and settled back onto his heels, his fingers still dancing between her legs. “You couldn’t wait to get my clothes off earlier,” he commented. It was true. As soon as the club closed, Ruby had practically dragged him up the stairs to her apartment. “But I can tell you haven’t had enough yet.”

“No—yes—wait—oh!”

Zeke grasped one of her thighs in each meaty hand and pulled her open. Then he bent and swept his tongue along her cleft. Pleasure shuddered through her. She arched up, wanting more. Her lover teased her, flicking back and forth between her swollen lips, but avoiding contact with her clit. She thrashed underneath him, desperate for direct stimulation.

“Please…please, baby…”

Finally he took pity on her. He burrowed his face into her pussy and sucked hard. Lightning shot up her spine. Tension coiled inside her. Sinking her fingers into his hair, she forced his head deeper into her drenched cunt and ground her clit against his nose.

His teeth nipped the aching bud of flesh. The tiny pain cut her free. Pleasure welled up from her depths and spilled over. His strong hands held her fast, splayed and vulnerable, as she jerked against his still-lapping tongue.

Before the last sparkles of sensation faded, his cock was at her entrance. He drove into her still-quivering cunt, hot and hard. Her muscles clenched around his bulk and a new climax seized her, sharper and deeper than the one before.

Zeke didn’t let her rest. He pounded into her again and again, just the way she liked, so fierce she thought he’d split her open. As he thrust, a third come gathered, like thunderheads on the distant horizon.