Tag Archives: menage

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.

Incognito: Secret Lives, Forbidden Loves by Lisabet Sarai (@lisabetsarai) #menage #lgbtq #eroticromance #bondage #discipline #dominance #submission #victorian #boston #beaconhill #london #crossdressing #literature #Shakespeare

IncognitoIn My Footsteps

Most authors borrow from their own experience in crafting their fiction, to a greater or lesser extent. People, places, and situations from our lives get selected, altered and recombined. This helps to make our tales lively, realistic and believable.

In my most recent release, Incognito, I mined my personal history to a greater extent than usual. The novel is set in the historic Beacon Hill district of Boston, with parallel plot lines in the present and in the late Victorian era. As it happens, I had the good fortune to live in Beacon Hill myself for eighteen months, back in the nineties, and I loved every minute. As I wandered along the cobblestone streets, marveling at the ivy-covered row houses, I felt as though I were going back in time. I’ve mentioned in other blog posts that I have a peculiar affinity for Victorian architecture, fashion and culture. Living in Beacon Hill was a dream come true.

Continue reading

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

Rajasthani Moon by Lisabet Sarai (@lisabetsarai) #steampunk #bondage #discipline #Victorian #BDSM #India #Bollywood #BBW #analsex #curse #espionage #dirigible #menage #shifter

Blurb

A bandit prince cursed into beast form under the full moon.

A brilliant but sadistic Rajah whose robotic sex toys mingle torture and delight.

A voluptuous spy on a mission from Her Majesty, tasked with discovering Rajasthan’s secrets.

She has never faced such a challenge. 

When Rajasthan refuses to remit its taxes, the Queen calls on her most lethal and seductive secret agent, Cecily Harrowsmith. Cecily expects to have little difficulty persuading the rebellious Rajah to submit once more to the Empire. Instead, she is the one forced to submit – to endure unprecedented extremes of pleasure and pain.

Kidnapped by the ruler’s half-brother Pratan and delivered into the hands of the handsome but depraved Rajah Amir, she soon finds herself fighting against her own lascivious nature as much as the schemes of her captors. Her sympathy for the moon-cursed wolf-man Pratan only complicates her situation. Cecily has never failed to complete an assignment, but now she risks betrayal by both her body and her heart.

Note: This book was previously published by Totally Bound. It has been re-edited, revised and updated for this release.

Buy Links

Kinky Literature – https://www.kinkyliterature.com/book/363-rajasthani-moon-steampunk-shifter-bdsm-romance/

Amazon US – https://www.amazon.com/dp/B09DBMLQQG

Amazon UK – https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B09DBMLQQG

Smashwords – https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/1100493

Barnes and Noble – https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/rajasthani-moon-lisabet-sarai/1140045684?ean=2940165000041

Kobohttps://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/rajasthani-moon-steampunk-shifter-bdsm-romance

Add on Goodreads – https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/58835067-rajasthani-moon

*****

Rajasthani MoonExcerpt:

The brigand’s headquarters turned out to be a cave hollowed from the side of a mountain. After tethering his horse to a stunted tree near the entrance, he slung Cecily over his shoulder like a sack of flour and carried her inside. His casual handling of her body both inflamed and enraged her, but she remained quiet, observing her surroundings with care in the hope of discerning some means of escape.

The interior was less dirty and claustrophobic than she had feared. An uneven ceiling arched over their heads, reinforced by pillars fashioned from whole tree trunks. Oil lamps tucked into niches hewn into the walls dispelled most of the shadows. A wooden table, two chairs and a bedstead, all of rustic construction, constituted the only furnishings. However, to her left, on a natural rock shelf, she was surprised to see a sleek, modern com unit. Its low hum mingled with a faint gurgle of running water, coming from somewhere deeper in the cave. In the shadows she noticed a cage fashioned of iron bars, of the sort she’d seen used to transport sheep and goats. Does he keep animals here? she wondered. There was no barnyard scent.

He dumped her without ceremony onto the straw-filled mattress, then unsheathed his knife. Before she could even cry out, he had sliced her filthy, rumpled clothing off her body, pulled the fabric from underneath her, and tossed the bright rags into a corner. He also relieved her of the knife strapped to her arm and her other earring.

He paused to ogle her nakedness, the dark eyes above his mask burning with lust. Cecily’s nipples peaked and her cunny moistened in response to his brazen inspection—she couldn’t help herself—and she was uncomfortably certain that her reactions were not lost on him.

Using her bound arms, she managed to manoeuvre herself into a sitting position, with her bound legs dangling over the edge of the bed. He watched, neither assisting nor hindering her, clearly amused by her awkward progress. Refusing to be cowed, she answered his bold stare with one of her own.

He was the one to break the silence. “So, my lady. Tell me now. Whom do I have the honour of entertaining here in my humble abode?”

“Why should I reveal my identity to someone who will not even show me his face?” Cecily stalled for time, trying to work out a plan.

“A reasonable point. Pardon me.” The man untied the cloth that hid his features, revealing a beak of a nose, black whiskers and lips that curled in a sardonic smile.

“You!”Cecily cursed inwardly as soon as the word escaped.

“You know me, woman?” His eyes narrowed and his brows drew together into a scowl.

“I–I have seen your picture, sir—in the Bombay newspapers…”

What was the Rajah’s brother doing, hiding away in a miserable hole like this? Why didn’t he have any servants or retainers? Why had he attacked her carriage? These questions and a dozen more assailed her. Meanwhile, she struggled to offer a coherent excuse.

“My brother recommended that I should contact you, Your Excellency, when I arrived in Jaipur… He wishes to establish relationships with your weavers, to purchase your justifiably renowned textiles, but owing to his failing health, he sent me in his stead…”

“Nonsense!”His voice was like thunder. “Do not insult my intelligence! You’re no merchant, madam! Who are you really? Or do I have to beat the truth out of you?”

Cecily kept her mouth closed. Like all Her Majesty’s agents, she’d been trained not to break under torture. Thus far, that training had never been put to the test.

Pratan seized her by her long hair and hauled her to her feet. Of course, with her ankles bound, she could not walk. Half pulling, half carrying, he bundled her over to the closest pillar, jerked her bound arms up, then pushed her face first against the rough wood. The bark abraded her naked breasts and belly. She tried to squirm away from him, but he leaned his weight against her back while keeping her wrists pinned against the pillar above her head.

“Rebind,” he growled. In a flash the robotic rope unravelled and reconfigured itself, looping tight around both her arms and the column supporting her. Once he was certain she was secure, he dropped to his knees and touched the rope at her ankles. “Unbind.”

Cecily stumbled as the force connecting her ankles disappeared. Her relief at being free was short-lived. Pratan dragged her legs apart and inserted some sort of rigid bar between her shins. “Bind.” Before she could take two breaths, her legs were restrained in a permanently spread position, wide enough to allow her captor easy access to her sex.

Indeed, realising the degree of her exposure made her terribly aware of her quim, which she could not deny was soaked and swollen. You must be strong, she told herself. Think of England.

The cool air of the cave teased her bared flesh. Then a light touch, delicate as a feather, traced its way along the inside of her thigh. Her pussy clenched and moisture dribbled out. The impudent finger smeared the juice across her sensitive skin. Pleasure sparked through her.

“You can’t fight me.” His voice was like warm honey now, all the anger gone. It flowed through her, unbearably sweet. “And I don’t think you want to. There’s no shame in surrendering when you’ve been rendered completely helpless.”

*****

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 – nearly 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 and finally, on Twitter.

New Release! Monsoon Fever: A Multicultural Romance by Lisabet Sarai (@lisabetsarai) #Menage #Polyamory #Bisexual #Threesome #India #Assam #MMFRomance #TheGreatWar #WWI #BritishEmpire #Hinduism

Monsoon FeverBlurb

When a charismatic Indian lawyer arrives at their remote Assamese tea plantation, he tempts a married couple with forbidden carnal delights.

In the early years of their marriage, Priscilla and Jonathan eagerly indulged their physical desires, but now that passion has dwindled. Childlessness and the horrors of the Great War have taken a toll on their relationship. Though Priscilla still aches for Jon’s touch, he seems preoccupied with settling his father’s affairs in India, so they can sell the plantation they’ve inherited and return to England.

Anil Kumar served as solicitor to Jon’s father. Arriving unannounced, drenched by a monsoon deluge, he enchants both Priscilla and Jon with his beauty, poise and wisdom. In separate incidents, each of them succumbs to Anil’s lustful attentions. Will the illicit cravings excited by the handsome Indian be the final stroke that destroys their marriage? Or the route to saving it?

Note: This book was previously published by Totally Bound. It has been revised and re-edited for this release.

Buy Links

Amazon US – https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0994WZP4B

Amazon UK – https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B0994WZP4B

Smashwords – https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/1093764

Barnes and Noble – https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/monsoon-fever-lisabet-sarai/1139827649?ean=2940164960315

Kobo – https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/monsoon-fever-a-multicultural-romance

Add on Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/58554176-monsoon-fever

*****

Excerpt

The next thing she knew, Jon was beside her, helping her to stand. He clutched her soapy form to his now-naked body and sealed her lips with his. Joy ballooned in her chest. It had been so long since she’d felt his decisive mouth or tasted his familiar flavour. She rubbed her breasts against him, smearing herself with his dirt. His rigid nipples poked at her chest. Below, she could feel his cock stiffening again, nudging into the gap between her thighs.

She opened her legs and tilted her pelvis toward him, inviting his entry. Then, all at once, a torrent of warm water poured down on their heads. They broke their kiss, sputtering in the surprise flood. Before they could respond, another bucketful drenched them.

“Anil!” Sputtering and laughing, Priscilla turned to find that the native was behind them. He too had shed his clothes. As she watched, he raised a pitcher and poured its contents over his own head.

The shower slicked his dark locks against his skull, emphasising the fine planes of his countenance. Rivulets coursed over his muscled shoulders and down his hairless chest. His skin looked oiled, cinnamon-hued and buttery smooth. Only in his groin did hair grow, in wild black tangles completely different from the golden fur at the base of Jonathan’s cock.

Priscilla’s palms itched with the need to caress that silky, dark skin, to mould Anil’s flat breasts and flick her thumbs across his chocolate-hued nipples. She saw herself kneeling in the puddle at his feet, swallowing his majestic penis. The urge to turn image into reality was overwhelming. Did she dare to act on her desire?

She glanced back at Jon. He too seemed transfixed by the sight of Anil’s glorious nakedness. His cock was fully erect once again. It twitched slightly, in rhythm perhaps with his racing pulse. His hands were clenched at his sides, but as Priscilla watched, he relaxed and began stroking himself. He swelled further.

She willed him to look away from Anil for a moment and to meet her gaze, with its unspoken question. He must have felt her thoughts. Their eyes locked, and for a moment Priscilla felt the old connection that they’d had at first, the sense that everything was understood. He nodded slightly, a half-smile playing on his lips.

She beamed her gratitude back at him, then turned back to Anil’s body. Lowering herself to the tiled floor, she grasped the Indian’s cock at the root and stroked it gently. The taut skin sheathing his hardness felt like silk. The bulb was scarcely wider than the shaft and peaked rather than round, like a blunted arrowhead. His foreskin puckered below it. Droplets clung to the tip, perhaps from the shower, perhaps his own secretions. Priscilla’s mouth watered at the sight.

She bent closer and pursed her lips around the bulb, tonguing the slit, sampling his moisture. The taste made her crave more. Opening wide, she engulfed him, sucking him deep into her mouth.

Anil hummed with pleasure. He laid a light hand on her damp curls, guiding but not forcing her as she slid her mouth along his length. He hardly thrust at all, though the increasing tension in his flesh made it clear that his excitement was peaking. Reaching between his legs, she cupped the velvety sacs hanging there, thrilled to feel them tighten as she brought him closer to the edge.

Her own body was on fire. Her nipples were points of flame, and her clit was a glowing ember no amount of wetness could quench, though her juices trickled down her splayed thighs onto the floor. Anil’s hands were on her shoulders now, kneading her flesh as she sucked rhythmically on his. He was nowhere near her sex, yet his touch sent hot shivers through her. In her mind’s eye, she saw herself skewered by the steely cock now sliding in and out of her mouth, and the image nearly sent her into her own climax. She sucked more strongly, nipping at the bulb each time she reached the apex. The native groaned, moments away from coming.

“Pru!” Jon’s voice was low and hoarse with lust, close to her ear. “Don’t let him spend. Don’t waste him. Let’s get to the bedroom.”

*****

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.

Join her VIP email list here: https://btn.ymlp.com/xgjjhmhugmgh

New Release! Sharing Leah: A Polyamorous Romance by Lisabet Sarai (@lisabetsarai) #Menage #Polyamory #Triad #BDSM #Dominance #Submission #Bondage #MaleEgos #Sharing #MaineCoast #DownEast

Sharing LeahBlurb

Some women might think Leah’s existence heavenly – shared by two sexy men who both adore her. Ten years married to lusty, artistic Daniel, she still finds ecstatic release in surrendering to her master Greg.

But Daniel’s and Greg’s jealousy and possessiveness have made Leah’s life a hell.  They bring out the worst in each other. And in some sense, it’s all her fault. If she loved only one of them, if she made a choice, that would be that. In theory, at least.

Unable to bear the continuous conflict, she escapes to the beautiful Maine coast to ponder her future. Gradually she realizes that she cannot live without either of her lovers. But if the two men can’t settle their differences,  how can she bear to live with them?

Note: This book was previously published by Totally Bound with the title Truce of Trust. It has been revised, expanded and re-edited for this release.

Buy Links

Kinky Literature – https://www.kinkyliterature.com/book/42-sharing-leah-a-polyamorous-romance/

Amazon US – https://www.amazon.com/dp/B094XPD83D

Amazon UK – https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B094XPD83D

Smashwords –  https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/1084055

Barnes and Noble – https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/sharing-leah-lisabet-sarai/1139457298?ean=2940164905293

Kobo – https://www.kobo.com/th/en/ebook/sharing-leah-a-polyamorous-romance

Add on Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/58040241-sharing-leah

*****

Excerpt

Leah stood before the door to Greg’s room, her palms wet and her heart slamming against her ribs. It was always this way—the almost sick feeling of excitement that she associated with him.

He opened the door before she could knock. His hearing was amazingly acute, like all his senses.

“Ah, you’re back, little one.” Six foot four and solid as a tank, Greg towered over her. Everything about him screamed power—the corded biceps straining against his shirt, the tree-trunk thighs, those velvet-brown eyes that pierced her soul, catching every nuance of emotion. His soft, rich voice mesmerized her. She had the urge to kneel at his feet, but before she could act on the impulse, he grabbed her around the waist and pulled her into the room, closing the door behind them.

He pressed her body against the wall, her wrists pinned above her head. He needed only one huge hand to hold her fast. With the other, he unbuttoned her blouse. He peeled her bra away, revealing her brazenly rigid nipples. He pinched one of the protruding nubs, hard enough to make her yelp. Moisture gushed into her already sodden panties. He bent to lave away the pain with his hot mouth. Blessed relief flowed through her, only to be shattered by his teeth closing down on her flesh.

“I can smell you,” Greg crooned. “I could smell you coming down the hall. My little slut, come home to her master.”

“Yes, sir.” Some fragment of Leah’s consciousness cringed at Greg’s corny lines, yet they never failed to arouse her.

“But why are you wearing pants? You know that I want you to always be accessible.”

“Sorry, but I had a meeting…”

“No excuses. Take them off, now. Before I tear them off.” He released her wrists. Leah unfastened the waistband, pushed the trousers to her ankles and kicked them into a corner.

“Panties, too. I would think that you’d know better, by now.”

Greg’s voice was gruff, but he was smiling despite himself. His smile grew broader as she bared her sex to his fierce gaze.

“Turn around. Lean forward and put your hands against the wall. Spread your thighs.”

Her heart was pounding so hard that her chest hurt. She could scarcely breathe, she was so aroused.

She leaned into the wall, glad for the support, and arched her back, presenting her bare buttocks as he had taught her to do.

Her naked skin registered every motion, every shift in the air. She knew he was watching her, admiring her as yet unmarked flesh, making her wait. She sensed his own excitement, held in check. She felt the weight of his will, bearing down on her.

Would he spank her? Give her a taste of the crop? Most of his toys were stored in his dungeon, but she didn’t doubt that he kept one or two implements of punishment here in his bedroom, just in case.

Would he unsheathe his oversized cock and fuck her?

Her mind whirled, every vision lewder than the last. Without a word from him, without a touch, her lust rose to the boiling point. Her juices overflowed, dribbling down the insides of her thighs. She blushed, knowing he would not miss this detail.

One thick finger swept through her drenched folds. It lingered for the briefest instant on her aching clit. Leah cried out, trembling on the edge of orgasm from this single touch.

“You’re amazingly wet, slut. But then you always are, when I’m around.”

*****

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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