Book Title: Her Master's Choice
Author: Karen Mercury
Genre: Contemporary BDSM Romance
Synopsis:
When Shannon Bloomfield hears a rumor that an influential, anonymous food critic is visiting her restaurant, she has no idea it’s the exotic, erotic bad boy Tate Gooding who holds her fate in his culinary hands. Tate, burned out on the club circuit life and traveling around the States for his guidebook company, wants a deeper, more meaningful relationship with the three-star chef.
Tate instructs Shannon in a thrilling new realm of private—and public—play, pushing her limits with every new scene. Shannon discovers that her inner “Force-Me Queen” is an expert tease, skilled at keeping Tate on the edge.
But a creepy stalker has photos and threatens to expose Tate’s cover and their back alley scenes. Tracking down the culprit brings the couple closer than ever in their power plays, and Shannon learns that breaking out of her comfort zone is an arousing adventure when it’s Her Master’s Choice.
Meet the Author:
Karen’s first three novels were historical fiction involving pre-colonial African explorers. Since she was always either accused or praised—depending on how you look at it—for writing overly steamy sex scenes, erotic romance was the natural next step.
She currently has over 20 ménages with Siren Publishing.
She lives near Napa, California where she shoots archery, collects minerals, plays with her not-so-little Newfoundland pup, and does other “guy” things.
EXCERPT
The rain had now let off so Tate could toss her Winnie-the-Pooh umbrella to the ground, giving the spectators on their decks a better view. When he dipped and bent his knees, his free hand had slid around the back of her ass. The dress was so tight she could practically feel each fingerprint as he gathered a handful of the slippery rayon fabric. Cold air swirled around her naked butt cheeks, and when the raised ridges of one fingerprint barely tickled her clitoris like a breath of air, she sucked in air and jumped.
“But I know nothing about you,” she whispered. Over Tate’s shoulder she could see two of the three friends on the deck rubbing their crotches lewdly. Pretending she hadn’t seen, she assisted Tate by unzipping her dress nearly to her navel. Her lacey push-up bra amply displayed her average-sized globes, and as she’d hoped, the two eager men on the deck started taking their own dicks out. It made her feel lascivious and obscene, complete strangers getting off on her sex. “I don’t even know where you live, and you probably know where I live.”
“I do not,” Tate murmured. Stalking wasn’t his style. “And you’ll find out where I live the moment you give me a ride home today. Now listen. That couple, that man and woman watching us from their deck. What are they doing?” Tate sucked on her throat some more—he’d probably leave an embarrassing, childish hickey, and Shannon didn’t care. He spread butterfly kisses on the upraised globes of her tits as though trying to distract her while two fingertips now nudged between the swollen lips of her pussy.
“Ah!” she gasped when he found the exact right spot, the money spot on her clit where rubbing and twiddling was always the most effective, when Shannon didn’t have a detachable shower head to toy with. “The couple?” Shannon was shocked to see how brazen the couple was getting. There was probably a direct sight line to at least some parts of the highway, where people stuck in traffic could get a good eyeful of that notorious apartment building.
Tate diddled her clit, making her gasp again. “Yes. Is watching us making them hot?”
“Oh, yesss…The man is behind her, and he’s taken her tits out of her bra and is playing with them.”
“Just playing? Be more descriptive, my pet.”
“He’s twiddling her nipples between his fingers. Her tits are bouncy and round, much bigger than mine. He’s leaning her over the balcony rail as though about to fuck her from behind.”
“Ah, dog-style, one of my favorites.” Tate approved of the man’s choice, and he bent his knees deeper to take a suck of Shannon’s teat now too. Ecstasy shot straight down her abdomen from her nipple to her clit, the blissful feelings mingling right there at her center of passion. “What are those horny men doing? Have they stripped off their pants yet?”
To her surprise, one of them actually had. He had even stepped up on a chair or a box or something because his prick was practically eye-level with one of his buddies. A shudder gripped Shannon’s poor wracked body as she wished they were three gay men. It couldn’t hurt her impending orgasm to watch that baby-faced guy suck off his buddy. But they were just jacking themselves, and it stroked Shannon’s ego as well as her libido to know they were getting off over her. “Yes, one guy’s up on a chair and he’s furiously jacking himself off.”
“Good. I want as many people as possible to find pleasure in my princess. And I think they’ll find more pleasure”—in one fluid movement, with his left hand Tate whipped the trench coat belt from its loops and had twined it around one of her wrists—”in watching a bound woman come to a forced orgasm.”
Shannon smiled when she recalled his Rumpus Room attendance. She trusted him, so there was no issue about refusing, but it was sort of fun to pretend to struggle. “Oh, no,” she said in a girlish voice. “Please, Mr. Gooding. Please don’t tie me up. How will I get away from you if I’m helpless?”
Shannon didn’t know until much later that she was instinctively enacting “rebel play,” a scene where the bottom pretends to resist the top. They would revisit that scene often. Tate didn’t miss one beat with his fingertips against her bulging clit as he expertly bound her wrists using only one hand. The knot wasn’t the tightest, but she couldn’t escape without a lot of struggle. And every time she struggled, her tits bounced nicely. “Isn’t helpless the point, young missy? I want you helpless. I want you spread-eagled with wrists and ankles bound, your mouth gagged so you can’t protest.”
“Oh, Lord, no!” The innocent little girl that Shannon had suddenly become didn’t want her most intimate parts displayed to strangers, especially since that guy on the chair looked on the verge of—”Oh, God! That disgusting boy up there is ejaculating over the side of the deck! His friend is slapping him on the ass congratulating him. It’s absolutely disgusting.” So disgusting, in fact, that Shannon wriggled her hips even faster to encourage Tate to speed up his twiddling against her clit.
“And the couple? Has the husband mounted her yet?”
“Yes, it seems like he has. His hips are pumping into her. He’s squeezing her bare tits and she has a blissful look on her face. Oh, Mr. Gooding, this is too, too shameful! How dare you expose my breasts to strangers?”
Tate held the tip of his nose to hers. “It gives them pleasure, and it gives me pleasure. And I think it gives you pleasure too, you little minx.” And he dove down to suckle on her nipple again.
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