Tag Archives: bdsm

New Release! Getaway Girl By Lisabet Sarai (@lisabetsarai) #Instalove #EroticRomance #Yorkshire #DubCon #Abduction #Bondage #Burglary #EroticFantasy #Hostage #VikingHoard

Blurb:

Be careful what you wish for

All Peg wants is a break, a bit of adventure, a relief from her mundane existence in the bucolic but boring Yorkshire hamlet of Kirkby Malzeard. When dashing, sophisticated journalist Lionel Hayes saunters into the pub where she’s tending bar, Peg suspects that he was just the sort of man to fulfill her fantasies of escape.

The seductive Lionel, however, is not what he seems. Before she knows it, Peg is a hostage, roped and gagged, speeding away from the scene of a daring crime. Lionel is armed and dangerous, but somehow Peg still wants him – regardless of the consequences.

Note: This book was originally published in 2015 by Totally Bound. This second edition has been substantially revised and has a new ending.

Buy Links:

Kinky Literature – https://www.kinkyliterature.com/book/1587-getaway-girl-/

Amazon US – https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0D2WM4BXR

Amazon UK – https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B0D2WM4BXR

Smashwords – https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/1557686

Barnes and Noble – https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/getaway-girl-lisabet-sarai/1103185498

Kobo – https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/getaway-girl-10

Apple Books – https://books.apple.com/us/book/x/id6499560218

Add on Goodreads – https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/212364347-getaway-girl

Add on BookBub – https://www.bookbub.com/books/getaway-girl-by-lisabet-sarai-2024-05-03

*****

Getaway GirlExcerpt:

Lionel pulled her blouse out of her skirt and pushed it up around her armpits. Underneath, she wore her best bra, apricot lace with a plunging cleavage. Her captor flicked a finger across her swollen nipple, which poked up insolently through the lace. A bolt of electricity shot through her loins. Her hips jerked upwards. He half-smiled.

“Did you wear this for me, Margaret?” Peg’s furious blush was enough of an answer. “How very thoughtful of you.”  He peeled the cups away, exposing her breasts. When he moved closer, she felt his hot breath on her bare skin.

He cupped the full globes in his hands, his thumbs making lazy circles around the aching tips. “Lovely. Truly exquisite.”  He bent and circled the crinkled flesh near her right nipple with his tongue, while his thumb continued to circumnavigate the left. Peg moaned, dying for him to suckle her. When he finally took the taut bud into his mouth, though, Peg was not prepared for the sensations.

Some chain of nerves led directly from her nipple to her clit. The pull of his lips on her nipple was transferred immediately to that other, equally swollen bead of flesh at the heart of her sex. Without thinking she pulled her thighs together, struggling to apply the pressure that she craved. The twine wrapping her ankles bit into her skin.

“Ow!”

“You’ve got to relax, Margaret, or you’ll get hurt. Let me take care of you. Let me give you pleasure.”  Lionel ran his fingers through her tangled hair, smoothing it away from her face. He looked into her eyes. Peg thought she saw a hint of genuine concern there, maybe even affection. However, his flushed face and parted lips suggested that his primary emotion was lust.

“Please…”

“What do you want? Tell me.”

Embarrassment and desire warred within her. She could not bring herself to speak.

“Do you want me to untie you?”

No! she wanted to cry out, but it was as though she had been gagged again.

Lionel ran his hand up her bare thigh, under her hiked up skirt. He stroked the soaked satin of her knickers, stretched across her pubis. Peg trembled, ready to explode.

“You know, I don’t think that you want me to untie you. You’re much too wet.” He slipped one finger under the elastic and into her cleft, swirling it in her juicy depths for a moment before pulling out. He held his glistening finger in front of her face and she smelled the ocean scent of her own arousal. New blood rushed to her cheeks, as well as to her nipples and clit. “See how soaked you are.” He rubbed his fingertip over her lips, smearing her with her own secretions, then bent to kiss her briefly. “Delicious. I really need to go to the source.”

His face disappeared. She felt his weight on the mattress, between her splayed thighs, and his hands fumbling with her undergarments, pulling them down around her hips. “Damn!” he said with a chuckle, “I should have thought of this before I bound you. Oh well. Don’t move, now.”

Peg heard a click as he opened his knife once more, then the tearing of fabric. “Sorry to spoil your lovely undies, but it’s for a good cause.” For an instant, Peg felt the cool autumn air playing on her naked sex. Then she felt the incredible, glorious heat of his mouth.

Lionel did not tease her. He moulded his mouth to her pussy and sucked steadily. His tongue lapped at her clit, each stroke winding her tighter into an intricate knot of sensation. Just when she was certain she could not bear another touch, he would ease away briefly, lapping the dew from her folds, probing her depths, giving her a moment to breathe before he returned to build up her pleasure to new highs.

*****

About Lisabet

Lisabet Sarai became addicted to words at an early age. She began reading when she was four. She wrote her first story at five years old and her first poem at seven. Since then, she has written plays, tutorials, scholarly articles, marketing brochures, software specifications, self-help books, press releases, a five-hundred page dissertation, and lots of erotica and erotic romance – over one hundred titles, and counting, in nearly every sub-genre—paranormal, scifi, ménage, BDSM, LGBTQ, and more. Regardless of the genre, every one of her stories illustrates her motto: Imagination is the ultimate aphrodisiac.

You’ll find information and excerpts from all Lisabet’s books on her website (http://www.lisabetsarai.com/books.html), along with more than fifty free stories and lots more. At her blog Beyond Romance (http://lisabetsarai.blogspot.com), she shares her philosophy and her news and hosts lots of other great authors. She’s also on Goodreads, BookBub and Twitter. Join her VIP email list here: https://btn.ymlp.com/xgjjhmhugmgh

Get 30% Off Eyes Wide Open at Kobo! (@kobo @kobodeals) #kobo #kobodeals #booktwt #bdsm #mmf #menage

Hi folks,

Great news! If you live in any of the following regions: Canada, United States of America, United Kingdom, Australia, New Zealand, you can get a whopping 30% off the Eyes Wide Open eBook at Kobo (regions are Kobo’s choice, not mine!). Just enter the code SEPT30 at checkout to bag this amazing deal.

So, if you like steamy BDSM MMF romance, check out Eyes Wide Open at Kobo.

Please be sure and tell all your friends. The deal is available until 1st October.

Happy Reading!
Lucy x

UPDATE: I just found out that a charity anthology I’m in, Hungry For More, is also part of this promotion. So why not grab both?

Don’t Let Ideas Slip Away – A Guest Post from Lisabet Sarai (@lisabetsarai) #Steampunk #Menage #Lesbian #Bisexual #Threesome #Dominance #Submission #Homoerotic #Bondage #Discipline #FemDom #VictorianEra #SexToys #Feminist #Revenge #Tattoos #AltHistory #Orgy

Blog posts and how-to books aimed at authors often recommend that we keep an idea notebook. “Capture your inspirations when they’re fresh,” the pundits counsel. “Don’t let your ideas slip away.”

For many years, I’ve followed this recommendation. Typically I keep the notebook next to my bed, so that I can jot down the details of dreams that contain the seed of a story. Also, I tend to be more relaxed at night. Sometimes I’ll write a page or two, in longhand, before falling asleep.

It’s not uncommon for me to be fired up, initially, when I come up with a new idea and write it down. When I review my scribbles a few days later, on the other hand, my enthusiasm may have cooled. What seemed like a brilliant premise in the heat of inspiration will strike me as hackneyed or boring. Still, it’s there in the notebook, in case I change my mind.

The concept for the Toymakers Guild series showed up in my notebook way back in 2010. At the time, I was writing – or trying to write – traditional romance for Totally Bound. My original vision of the Guild was quite close to the portrayal in the series, a secretive Victoria-era establishment located in a remote part of England and dedicated to the creation of steampunk sex toys. I knew I’d have characters named Gillian, Amelia and Rafe, though I wasn’t sure who they were. I even had the titles for the series volumes. However, I pictured the series as romance. Each book, I assumed, would focus on a different relationship between a different set of Toymakers. Each book would also deal with the creation of some outrageous sexual artifact for a particular client.

I spent some time thinking about this, but I was busy with other books as well as real world responsibilities, and the momentum slipped away. One problem was that at that time I’d never before been successful in writing a series. I wasn’t confident I could maintain a fictional world over more than one book.

Time passed. I gradually shifted to self-publishing and in the process away from classic romance. Without intending to, I wrote my very successful Vegas Babes erotica series. I started to understand the dynamics of series creation. And I saw that from a commercial perspective, series were the way to go.

Then, late in 2019 I remembered the Toymakers. I dug out the old notebook and read the few pages I’d penned back in 2010. And the creative juices began to flow.

Three years later, I’ve finally completed the Toymakers trilogy. It has diverged dramatically from my original vision, but still, the core concepts haven’t really changed.

If I hadn’t captured those notes, I might well have forgotten about Gillian and her companions out on the Devon moors. I’m grateful I listened to advice!

*****

Excerpt:

A few minutes later, he pointed to a summit some hundred yards ahead. It was crowned by a finger of stone, pointing toward the sky. “That’s Brigit’s Tor,” he said. “Supposedly the standing stone is more than five thousand years old. Some claim the site was an ancient shrine.”

Trudging up the last, steep slope, they paused for breath. Gillian peered up at the granite pillar silhouetted against the blue background. Its shape was surprisingly regular and when they finally arrived at the shallow, grassy bowl at the top, she noticed it was free of the grey-green lichen that bloomed on most of the moorland rocks. It wasn’t that tall, perhaps half again her height, but when she passed beneath its shadow, she found herself shivering.

Other oblongs of stone lay scattered around the hilltop, some partly buried in the earth. Rafe seated himself on one sun-warmed slab and patted the spot beside him. “Sit, Jill. I’ve brought some tea.” He rummaged in his bag and pulled out a vacuum flask and two mugs, which he proceeded to fill.

“How clever of you!”  The beverage was lukewarm, but sweet and wonderfully refreshing after their climb. She sipped it gratefully while admiring the view from their elevated vantage point. The moors rolled away to the north and west, draped in velvety shades of olive and sage. Far to the east, she glimpsed a brick-coloured, smoke-hung smudge that had to be Tavistock. Closer to their perch, she noted a dense patch of emerald-green vegetation that was undoubtedly the grounds of Randerley. Despite the height of its towers, the hall itself could not be seen.

Faced with such an inspiring expanse, she found her spirits rising. She reached for Rafe’s hand. “Thank you so much for bringing me here. It’s truly marvellous!”

Rafe cupped the back of her head in one hand and pulled her into a fiery kiss. He didn’t embrace her, not yet, but his mouth sealed to hers with a finality that left her burning and breathless. Like some parched desert traveller who’d stumbled upon an oasis, he drank her in, desperate and thankful.

She opened to him, ready to give him whatever he needed or desired. His familiar flavour lit up her senses, quickening her pulse and making her nipples peak. The kiss consumed her. Surging desire and a lack of air combined to make her giddy. The earth wheeled around her, blue and green turning somersaults in her head.

“Oh, Jill,” he moaned when he finally set her free. “I can’t stand this any longer. Lie down!”

He eased her back onto the slab. She bent and parted her knees of her own accord, and began to unbutton her bodice.

“No, no, let me, please!” He half-rose, then fell to his knees in the grass beside the granite shelf, to one side of her. With typical speed and precision, he unfastened and opened her top, then slipped both hands inside to cradle her breasts through her shift.

Electric pleasure coursed through her, the sparks kindled by his touch racing to ignite her core. “Oh God, Rafe! I’ve missed you,” she panted, as he pulled up her chemise and applied his mouth to her aching nipples. He tongued and sucked the taut nubs, every touch adding fuel to the blaze between her legs.

She wanted him there, filling her cunny, as she’d never wanted anyone or anything. She craved the sensation of his irresistible hardness stretching her wide. At the same time, his exquisite attention felt too delicious to forego.

Closing her eyes, she surrendered to his mouth and his passion. Let him do whatever he wished. She had no doubt it would suit her own desires. As she lay on her back upon the altar-like stone, she imagined herself a willing sacrifice to the ancient earth gods, awaiting ecstasy and enlightenment.

Lost in a lascivious trance, it took a moment for her realise that Rafe had abandoned her nipples for other parts of her anatomy. He fumbled with her skirts, pushing them up over her knees so they pooled over her belly. Then he leaned in to sweep his tongue through her fully exposed cleft. She’d discarded her undergarments when she’d gone upstairs to change shoes, suspecting that Rafe might harbour carnal intentions with regard to their walk.

She gasped at the sudden, intense stimulation and arched up off the stone in an attempt to stay connected to his divine tongue. “Let me,” he repeated, forcing her hips back down. “Trust me to give you what you need.” He licked her again, more firmly this time, ending with a flick to her swollen clit. “Lie back and let me eat my fill.”

It was difficult to relax, nearly impossible to obey, but Gillian tried valiantly. He used his knowledge of her body to bring her to the very brink of spending, again and again, but he held back from the final stroke that would push her over the edge. Before long she was whimpering and moaning, struggling not to thrash about as he gorged on her slick, sensitive flesh.

“Oh, by the stars and planets, don’t tease me anymore, Rafe! Give me your cock, before I go crazy.”

*****

Blurb

How do you train a steampunk sexbot?

Gillian Smith’s promotion to journeyman proves she’s ready to lead the Toymakers in producing astonishing new erotic artifacts. Creative, brilliant, and debauched, she’ll stretch her capabilities to the limit as she juggles a talent shortage and a pair of jealous rivals. Then there’s the challenge of their latest commission—a life-sized programmable sex doll intended to replace a client’s deceased paramour.

Normally she would consult the enigmatic Master Toymaker, but he seems preoccupied with his own concerns. Though her lusty crew of sexual renegades can offer technical and carnal assistance, Gillian is ultimately responsible for delivering the promised, near-impossible technology.

It’s fortunate she’s not one to give up—not even when events threaten the Guild’s very survival.

Buy Links

Kinky Literature – https://www.kinkyliterature.com/book/976-the-masters-mark-the-toymakers-guild-book-3/

Amazon US – https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0BRHGN35L

Amazon UK – https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B0BRHGN35L

Smashwords – https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/1306694

Barnes and Noble – https://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/2940165993299

Kobo –  https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/the-master-s-mark-the-toymaker-s-guild-book-3

Apple Books – https://books.apple.com/us/book/x/id6445290161

Add on Goodreads – https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/75611538-the-master-s-mark

*****

About Lisabet

Lisabet Sarai became addicted to words at an early age. She began reading when she was four. She wrote her first story at five years old and her first poem at seven. Since then, she has written plays, tutorials, scholarly articles, marketing brochures, software specifications, self-help books, press releases, a five-hundred page dissertation, and lots of erotica and erotic romance – over one hundred titles, and counting, in nearly every sub-genre—paranormal, scifi, ménage, BDSM, GLBT, and more. Regardless of the genre, every one of her stories illustrates her motto: Imagination is the ultimate aphrodisiac.

You’ll find information and excerpts from all Lisabet’s books on her website (http://www.lisabetsarai.com/books.html), along with more than fifty free stories and lots more. At her blog Beyond Romance (http://lisabetsarai.blogspot.com), she shares her philosophy and her news and hosts lots of other great authors. She’s also on Goodreads, BookBub and Twitter. Join her VIP email list here: https://btn.ymlp.com/xgjjhmhugmgh

*****

CONTEST!

Lisabet Sarai is running a contest to celebrate the release of The Master’s Mark. The prize is a $10 book store gift certificate, plus an ebook copy of the new novel in your choice of formats.

To enter, do the following:

  • Send an email at contest [at] lisabetsarai [dot] com
  • In the body of the email, list the names of two characters in The Master’s Mark. (You can discover this from various blog posts and excerpts.)

One entry per person, please. On the first of February, Lisabet will randomly draw a winner from among all the entries. Be sure to send your entry to the “contest” email address above.

Damned If You Do: A BDSM Dance with the Devil by Lisabet Sarai (@lisabetsarai) #bdsm #eroticromance #bondage #discipline #dominance #submission #sextoys #buttplug #faust #author #demon #pnr #infernalcontract

Blurb

Wendy Dennison is tired of being a starving author. The royalties from her critically acclaimed romance novels barely pay her bills. Her devoted agent Daniel Rochester may be smart and sexy, but he can’t get her the sales she needs. Then a charismatic stranger appears at her coffee shop table, promising her fame and commercial success, as well as the chance to live out her dreams of erotic submission. But at what cost?

Nothing you can’t afford to lose, my dear.

Seduced by the enigmatic Mister B, she signs his infernal contract. He becomes both her Master and her coach, managing her suddenly flourishing career as well as encouraging her lusts. Under her mentor’s nefarious influence, she surrenders to temptation and has sex with Daniel. The casual encounter turns serious when she discovers her mild mannered agent has a dominant side. As the clock ticks down to her blockbuster release and Mister B prepares to claim her soul, Wendy must choose either celebrity and wealth, or obscurity and true love.

Buy Links (Ebook)

Kinky Literature: https://www.kinkyliterature.com/book/713-damned-if-you-do/

Amazon US: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B09PSN7XGX

Amazon UK: https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B09PSN7XGX

Barnes & Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/damned-if-you-do-lisabet-sarai/1126292735?ean=2940165738319

Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/1124531

Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/damned-if-you-do-12

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/35009284-damned-if-you-do

 

Buy Links (Audio)

Narrated by Audrey Lusk

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Damned-If-You-Do/dp/B078NC1MGN/

Audible: https://www.audible.com/pd/Erotica-Sexuality/Damned-If-You-Do-Audiobook/B078NC27YX/

*****

Excerpt:

The smoke-tinted windows created a perpetual twilight within the vehicle. An equally dark barrier separated the spacious back seat from the driver in front. No one could see the lewd manner in which Mister B dragged her shirt up to her armpits and her bra down to her waist, exposing her ample breasts. When he twisted her nipple with impeccably manicured fingers, lust poured through her, as though he’d opened a spigot. Her pussy overflowed to further drench her already-sodden panties. She squirmed on the slick seat, hungry for stimulation.

Without releasing her breast, he rubbed two fingers along the damp seam of her jeans. Wendy couldn’t suppress a desperate moan. He chuckled as he sniffed his fingertips. “Your fragrance is exquisite, my dear.” Cupping her pubis, he ground the heel of his hand against her clit while his fingers beat out a frustrating rhythm against the tightly stretched denim between her thighs.

She hadn’t been this turned on in months—no, years. The substantial bulge at his fly told her he was also aroused, but somehow she didn’t dare touch him. Though he had yet to give her any orders, he had made it clear she had to obey him if she wanted to reap the benefits of this strange arrangement.

Meanwhile, an odd passivity had taken her over. He’d told her not to think, but only to feel. Her rational self, the part that screamed warnings about engaging in sexual trysts with total strangers, had retreated to some distant corner of her mind, leaving only a hunger to be touched, a craving to be filled, a shameful desire to be used and even abused.

“I know what you want, Gwen. What you truly need. I’ve read all your stories of implacable masters and eager slaves. But you never go all the way in your tales, do you? You don’t dare show the world the true depths of your depravity.”

His words inflamed her almost as much as his actions.

“I—oh!” He ripped open her fly and forced his hand down the front of her jeans, under the elastic of her underwear, into her soaked and swollen cunt. His fingers were like tongues of flame as they probed her cleft and teased her clit. “Oh, please…I can’t bear it…”

As quickly as they’d arrived, his fingers were gone, leaving her empty and aching. She gazed at him in a state of horny disbelief as he used a monogrammed hankie from his breast pocket to clean her juices from his elegant hands. “I shall decide what you must bear, my sweet little slave. Now I believe we’ve arrived at your abode, where we can explore this question further. You should fix your clothing.”

*****

About Lisabet Sarai

LISABET SARAI occasionally tackles other genres, but BDSM will always be her first love. Every one of her nine novels includes some element of power exchange, while her D/s short stories range from mildly kinky to intensely perverse.

You’ll find information and excerpts from all Lisabet’s books on her website (https://www.lisabetsarai.com/books.html), along with more than fifty free stories and lots more. At her blog Beyond Romance (https://lisabetsarai.blogspot.com), she shares her philosophy and her news and hosts lots of other great authors. She’s also on Goodreads, Bookbub and Twitter. Join her VIP email list and get a free ebook, plus exclusive contents and other benefits: https://btn.ymlp.com/xgjjhmhugmgh

Moonstone and Stately Pleasures are on Sale! #sale #books #bookbargains #romance #menage #rh #reverseharem #whychoose #rhromance

Hi folks,

I know we’ve just come out of the Black Friday/Cyber Monday sales (for once, my credit card actually got a battering – but mostly because I was waiting to buy stuff in the hope it’d be reduced, rather than buying stuff I didn’t want/need), but I have some amazing bookish bargains for you.

If you’re now looking to get in the Christmas mood, then you’ll be delighted to know the eBook of my Christmas-themed steamy reverse harem romance, Moonstone, is reduced to just 99c/p until 9th December at all the usual retailers! This should also mean Audible users will be able to Whispersync and get the amazing audiobook at a bargain price, too.

Secondly, this is one for Barnes & Noble/Nook shoppers. My BDSM menage, Stately Pleasures, is just $1.99 until the 12th December.

So, what are you waiting for? Get clicking and add these books to your eReaders today!

Happy Reading!

Lucy x

New Release! Power and Persuasion: A Gilded Age BDSM Romance by Lisabet Sarai (@lisabetsarai) #Historical #BDSM #Dominance #Submission #Surrender #Bondage #Discipline #Newport #GildedAge #Billionaire #EnemiesToLovers

Power and PersuasionBlurb

She’s his natural enemy – and the only woman who can satisfy his perverse sexual needs.

Andrew MacIntyre, heir to a vast empire of railroads, mines and mills, is by far the most eligible bachelor among the society folk summering in Newport, Rhode Island. His mother has filled their opulent mansion with the daughters of bankers and industrialists, but Andrew knows none of these callow young women would ever consent to being bound and beaten, to serving and obeying him the way he craves. His money gives him the freedom to purchase anything except his heart’s desire: a submissive partner to share his life.

Labor activist Olivia Alcott is dedicated to helping the exploited factory workers responsible for Andrew’s wealth. The strike she organizes triggers a confrontation between her and the handsome billionaire. Although their disparate backgrounds and values make them natural foes, something stronger draws them to one another: his need to command and hers to surrender.

Note: This book was previously published by Totally Bound under the title Challenge to Him. It has been revised, expanded by two chapters, and re-edited for this release.

Amazon US – https://www.amazon.com/dp/B09HSS7C6T

Amazon UK – https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B09HSS7C6T

Smashwords –  https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/1108116

Barnes and Noble – https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/power-and-persuasion-lisabet-sarai/1140290642?ean=2940165040306

Kobo – https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/power-and-persuasion-a-gilded-age-bdsm-romance

Add on Goodreads:  https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/59240690-power-and-persuasion

*****

Excerpt:

“Mademoiselle Olivia!” A skinny girl raced up the street that led to the riverside mill, stirring clouds of dust. “Il vient! He is coming!”

The sputtering racket of an internal combustion engine drowned out the girl’s excited voice. The crowd parted like the Red Sea for a boxy vehicle of shiny black, with silvery headlamps like extruded eyes. The noisy Studebaker rolled to a stop in front of the strikers, who stopped in their tracks like everyone else to stare at it.

The door creaked open. A tall man unfolded himself from the somewhat cramped interior, snatched off his hat and goggles and tossed them into the vehicle. He strode towards the massed strikers, his fists clenched at his sides.

“Where is she? Where’s your damned leader?”

The newspapers generally described Andrew MacIntyre as handsome. The epithet did not do him justice. As he stormed towards her, Olivia was struck with a sense of physical power and keen intelligence. He had wavy red-gold hair, a high forehead, a square chin, a determined mouth. His eyes were hazel, deep set under brows darker than his hair. Those eyes drilled into her, fierce and compelling. The women around her shrank backwards in alarm. Olivia steeled herself, holding her ground and fighting the urge to grovel at his feet. Instead of retreating, she took a step forward, holding out her hand.

“Mr. Andrew MacIntyre, I presume?” She marveled at the steadiness of her voice, the cool neutral tone.

“Damned right. And you are…?”

“Olivia Alcott.” She pulled herself up to her full height and forced herself to meet his gaze. She saw anger simmering there, but behind his irritation there was something else, something that intrigued and thrilled her. Something that she might be able to use to further her goals.

Olivia Alcott recognized lust when she saw it.

He towered over her by at least a head. Though his body was hidden by his loose touring coat, his decisive, economical movements suggested he was lean and athletic. For a moment he hesitated, staring at her proffered hand. When he finally accepted it, his firm grip confirmed her impression of strength. His palm felt warm and dry against hers. She suddenly wished that she were not so sticky and disheveled. When he released her, a momentary lightness swept through her, as though she might float away.

“And can I assume that you are the instigator and cause of this illegal strike, Miss Alcott?” He seemed flustered, less confident than she would have expected. Her spirits rose.

“Instigator? Perhaps. But not the cause.” Sweat trickled from her hairline, down into her eyes. She wiped it away with the back of her hand.

“Here.” He surprised her by offering a crisp handkerchief of fine linen, of a white so pure it almost seemed to shine with its own light. The initials ‘AM’ were embroidered in the corner, in golden thread. A faint scent of lavender reached her nostrils.

“Why, thank you!” The square of cloth was far more effective than her hand. When she’d mopped the perspiration from her face, she held out the swatch of now-damp fabric. “Here you are.”

He waved dismissively. “Keep it. I’ve got dozens more. Let’s get back to the matter at hand.”

“How much did this handkerchief cost, Mr. MacIntyre?”

“I have no idea. My secretary handles my personal expenses.”

“It’s imported linen, I suspect. Belgian, perhaps?”

“Maybe. I don’t know. Look, Miss Alcott—”

“And the monogram looks like real gold. Is it?”

“Honestly, what does that have to do with anything?”

Olivia tucked the handkerchief into her bodice, noting that MacIntyre’s eyes followed the movement. Indeed he didn’t try to hide his survey of her figure, rude as it was. Another tremor of strangeness fluttered in her belly.

“I’m no expert—I don’t have anything so fine myself—but I’d estimate that each of the dozens of handkerchiefs like this that you possess cost at least ten dollars.”

“Ah—really I don’t know—perhaps. Something in that vicinity.”

“That’s about two weeks of salary for one of these women who work here in your factory.”

“What? What are you talking about?”

“The cause of the strike, Mr. MacIntyre. You asked about the cause of the strike. These poor women—your employees, sir, to whom you have a certain responsibility—generally make five dollars a week. They’d have to work for two weeks—twelve days, twelve hours per day—to afford one of your handkerchiefs. Do you think this is just?”

“Well, they should be grateful they have jobs.” MacIntyre leaned closer, his manner and his voice menacing. “And if you don’t stop your meddling, they won’t. I’ll fire every single one of them in a minute. There are plenty of people who’d be happy for steady work, for a reputable company that’s not about to go bust and put them out on the street.”

“Won’t you consider raising their salaries, Mr. MacIntyre?” Olivia countered, inserting a bit of sweetness into her own voice. She laid her hand on his upper arm and felt his muscles shift under her fingers. “An additional dollar a week would make a big difference to them.”

“I’m running a business here, Miss Alcott, not a charity.” He pulled away from her grasp and shook his head, as if to clear his thoughts, then stepped past her to speak to the assembled workers.

*****

About Lisabet

Lisabet Sarai became addicted to words at an early age. She began reading when she was four. She wrote her first story at five years old and her first poem at seven. Since then, she has written plays, tutorials, scholarly articles, marketing brochures, software specifications, self-help books, press releases, a five-hundred page dissertation, and lots of erotica and erotic romance – over one hundred titles, and counting, in nearly every sub-genre—paranormal, scifi, ménage, BDSM, GLBT, and more. Regardless of the genre, every one of her stories illustrates her motto: Imagination is the ultimate aphrodisiac.

You’ll find information and excerpts from all Lisabet’s books on her website (http://www.lisabetsarai.com/books.html), along with more than fifty free stories and lots more. At her blog Beyond Romance (http://lisabetsarai.blogspot.com), she shares her philosophy and her news and hosts lots of other great authors. She’s also on Goodreads, Pinterest, BookBub, BingeBooks and Twitter.

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