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All Aubrey Tull wanted to do was settle down with her mate, Liam Willingham, but he was determined to fight the mating bond. The night he left the pack destroyed a part of her, and she became determined to find out who she was without him.
University should have been a step in the right direction—but that was before her mating heat kicked in. One night out at a club with her friends brings her the unwanted attention of the Joy brothers. She ends up putting them into the hospital and gets herself behind bars.
Liam thought he was doing the right thing when he left the pack. He wasn’t good enough for Aubrey, and he didn’t expect to live through the illness that racked him. Aubrey was too young, too innocent, for that kind of burden. Now he’s recovered, but then Henri tells him she’s been arrested. Liam’s probably the last person she wants to see, but in the end he’s the only one who can help her.
Unfortunately, the Joy brothers aren’t finished with Aubrey…
Liam moved his arm enough to peek out from underneath it. A man with dark red hair, almost black, stood by the door, and looked around the room in obvious disgust. The effect of being in the presence of his Alpha made his wolf cower. Being in the presence of his best friend overruled the natural urge. He readjusted his arm and closed his eyes. “How dd you find me?”
“You weren’t hiding.” Henri walked across the room, and Liam sensed the movement to take his bottle. A growl rumbled in his chest, but it was for show. If it came to a fight Henri would hand him his ass, and he knew it. “I need a fucking drink. Where do you keep them?”
“Fridge. I buy these things in bulk.” As Henri turned away, Liam risked another look at him. Another reason he couldn’t pursue Aubrey. They’d been best friends close to forever. What idiot went after his best friend’s little sister? Even when she turned eighteen? “Aren’t you on parental duty? How’s the rug-rat?” He caught the grimace which crossed his friend’s face and frowned, sitting up. “What’s wrong? Is everything okay?”
Henri didn’t say anything until he retrieved the bottle and sat down next to him with a huff. He twisted the cap off and took a long swig from it, wiping his lips with the back of his hand. “Alexa is an angel. It’s Brey who’s the problem.”
“Brey? You didn’t have twins and forget to mention it, did you?”
He shook his head. “Brey would be the name Aubrey likes to go by since you ripped her heart out and ground it into dust under your boot.” He took another drink and grimaced. “Damn, this is terrible.”
Guilt twisted in the pit of Liam’s stomach. “Nothing happened with her, Henri, I swear. No lines were crossed.” He dropped his own bottle to the ground with a thud and managed to sit up properly. “What happened?”
“She’s in jail. I’m tempted to leave her there for a bit to learn her lesson, but it would be a bad idea.”
The feeling of being buzzed faded quickly. “What happened?”
“A Sheriff Taylor called me; said she was at a club when a man tried to make a move on her. Unwanted.”
“Since when does Brey go to clubs? Why is she the one who’s in jail?”
“Because she put the man who touched her and his brother into the hospital.” Henri sounded proud before he looked a little embarrassed.
Heat Level: 2
Word Count: 33650
Editor: Karyn White
Over Artists: Jay Aheer
When veterinarian Emily Brownstone, 55, finds a poisoned wolf on the roadside, she doesn’t realize the chain of events that will follow.
Someone is trying to kill off the native wildlife, and Emily’s action in saving the wolf will threaten her life, but will also bring her the man of her dreams.
Tate Collins, 57, can’t believe his luck—he’s finally met his soul mate after all these years. All he has to do is tell her his secret—and it is a big one! He just hopes she won’t freak out when she finds out he spends a lot of his time running around on four legs!
But even if she does accept him, will they find each other only to be torn apart by the danger that threatens the wildlife—and Emily?
"There’s an injured animal on the road, but I can’t lift it by myself. Could you help me please? I want to put it in the rear of my car."
The two men exchanged a look, and Emily felt apprehensive. The look seemed like some silent conversation between them. She didn’t like it, but there was nothing she could do now.
"Injured animal. What sort?"
Another looked passed between them, and Emily felt the hair on the back of her neck stand. They seemed to be communicating with just body language and looks. It freaked her a little. Before she could tell them to forget about it, they pulled their four-wheel drive to the side of the road and got out. Both men quickly went to the fallen animal. They whispered something to each other and turned to her. Emily could see they were extremely worried and upset, rather more than you’d expect.
"Ma’am, it’s pretty dangerous to put a wild wolf in your car. Why don’t you let us take it?"
Suddenly Emily realized these two could be poachers and here she was handing over a beautiful wolf to them. The trade in illegal wolf pelts was still happening and rather lucrative.
Firmly she said, "If you get it onto the back of my jeep, I can check it out and sedate it if necessary. I’m a vet."
Of course, Emily hadn’t practiced full-time for a few years. She’d retired but ran a small practice from her home. Still, she always carried an emergency kit in her car. The taller of the two men seemed to hover over her, and Emily began to back away to the jeep.
"I really think you should let us take it."
His voice was not quite menacing, but it had enough force to make Emily very nervous, but she was determined these two wouldn’t intimidate her and take the wolf.
"No. It needs medical attention."
He stepped very close to her. Regretting her decision to ask for help, she touched the back of the jeep. Casually putting a hand behind her, she groped inside for something heavy in case they attacked her. The shorter of the men leaned toward the other and whispered. The tall one glanced down at her, and he took a couple of backward steps.
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Bk 2 The Silk Rope Masters
They ooze power, control, natural dominance - and sex.
They are The Silk Rope Masters.
None have ever found love but watch out! When they fall, they'll fall fast and hard!
Jake Nichols, 53, was so tall that Emily Miller, 49, had to crane her neck to look into his face. Muscular - he could pick her up in one hand and yet he held her as if she were a fragile bird.
And that's exactly what she was, a beautiful plus-sized woman with a pain so deep she's buried her emotions rather than face the tragedy that happened just a few months ago.
Jake was assigned to care for her by Master Ash, the head of Silk Rope and what Jake didn't expect was to fall in love.
But she was only in his safekeeping until she could fly on her own then he would have to release her.
Be Warned: BDSM, anal sex, sex toys, voyeurism, flogging, public exhibition
This is an erotic romance. There are explicit sexual descriptions and explicit language used throughout. It will offend some readers.
So here she was.
It was almost eight on Friday night, and Emily sat nervously in her car in the large car park. Would this be the same as either Threshold or The Lair? She hoped it was. If it was a lower classed place she definitely wouldn’t be coming back. Maybe she could find another club somewhere if that proved to be the case. Still she was hopeful. She couldn’t imagine the manager of The Lair, Bevan Fuller, transferring her to a lesser club.
Then she wondered for the hundredth time, “What the hell am I doing here?”
She still felt numb inside. With every emotion rammed down that hard, Emily couldn’t even cry. She actually knew how foolish she was, knew perfectly well the therapists, her family, were right. Time and again they’d told her she shouldn’t keep everything bottled up, should allow herself to grieve and move on, but she was far too frightened to face her pain.
Her weekly sessions with the therapist consisted of her sitting, staring into her lap or answering in monosyllables and refusing to utter one word about what had happened. In fact, she’d never cried, never shouted, never gotten very angry since that day. As soon as she’d woken in the hospital and given her statement to the police, every emotion, every thought of what had happened—her grief, every single thing, she pushed deep down inside her and refused to look at them. She held them down for so long that now she honestly couldn’t take the chance on remembering.
She was dead, and yet she breathed.
Sometimes in a lighter moment she thought of herself as a zombie. An animated corpse walking amid the living. But mainly Emily thought she was like a well-shaken bottle of soda pop with the lid screwed down tight. A slight twist of the cork and the whole bottle would vigorously explode, its contents scattering everywhere, never to be replaced. She couldn’t risk it, couldn’t risk her emotions, couldn’t set them free—the pain would be too great, and Emily knew she couldn’t handle it. She honestly doubted she would survive if at any time she was forced to face her past.
In the back of her mind she knew if she’d grieve, she’d be able to move on and live again, but instead she tortured herself by bottling everything up. This was her only escape now, coming to BDSM clubs—her haven. Sometimes she felt they were all that was left of her life, so at least she could vicariously live through its patrons.
It was strange, but those BDSM clubs now felt more like home than any house possibly could. Inside those doors in front of her she knew what would happen. She knew the rules, and she knew the outcomes. She knew exactly how people would react, how they would be toward her. She could sit and watch and know people would leave her alone unless she indicated she wanted company. No one would expect anything of her, and she could hide in plain sight. It was her secure place, the only one she had, and she knew it would protect her. It really was her safe house—impenetrable, sheltered. All those years she’d spent at Threshold only reinforced the idea. A club was her sanctuary, a place where, even if only for a few hours, she could pretend she was still alive. A place where she could hide among the living.
But at the same time, she wondered, would she ever be able to return to the woman she was?
The one who laughed, who enjoyed life and lived it to the fullest? Or was she destined to remain empty, afraid of showing any sort of emotion, afraid to face her heartache? Terrified of the floodgates she was sure she could never hold back if she allowed one iota of emotion, of agony, of her grief to slip through.
Finally getting out the car, she walked up the stairs that fronted the huge Georgian mansion. Clutching her coat a little tighter, she entered the warm foyer. Behind a desk a large, burly man smiled warmly at her.
“Good evening, Miss.”
“Hello. My name is Emily, Emily Miller. I believe the owner from The Lair, back east, contacted your manager about me transferring from there to here?”
© Suzy Shearer 2018
Opening her eyes, she took in the scene in front of her. A tall, shapely woman, a Domme. Her sub, naked, his wrists bound to hooks on the wall, was standing with his legs well apart, ankles fastened by a spreader bar. The Domme plied a flogger across his chest and then his thighs. As Emily watched, a flick across his testicles. He grunted. Another flick, this time the Domme wielded it upward and over his legs, catching his penis as well. His mouth opened in a silent scream as she landed a second on his cock.
Emily idly wondered what it must be like for a man to have his dick flogged, his balls whipped? Even from this distance Emily could see sweat on his face, the sheen of it glistening across his chest, as his Domme switched to a crop. A few gentle “love pats” on his nipples then thwack!
Between his legs again and this time his scream rang around the area, but Emily noticed, if it was possible, his erection seemed even harder. A few more hits, then the Domme took his face between her thumb and fingers, and she kissed him. A savage kiss that had him begging for another when she stepped away. Instead of a kiss, she grasped his cock, twisting it, pulling at it until he pleaded for release. She shook her head.
“You were a very bad boy, Brian.”
“Please, Mistress. Please.”
His plaintive begging echoed as she hit him with the crop again, and he sagged against his restraints, disappointment radiating from him. She stepped next to him, her lips close to his ears. Emily strained to hear her words, leaning forward to catch them.
“You’ve taken your punishment like a good boy. I shall let you fuck me, but I haven’t decided yet if I shall permit you to come.”
Emily saw how the words affected him. His smile lit up his whole face as she undid the restraints. He fell to his knees, and taking her hands, he kissed them.
“Thank you, Mistress. Thank you.”
The Domme made him stand. Emily could see he was wobbly on his feet, his erection still hard and strong. The Domme didn’t give him a moment to recover, and instead she led him away after making him carry her bag of tricks.
© Suzy Shearer 2018