The Glass Knot-mmf (29 page)

I soon
realized the path Quinn wanted us to travel would stretch not only his
experience of giving and taking, but also mine and Liam’s. In a whirlwind of
desperate emotions, dark desires and erotic fantasy, we were all so distant but
also so sublimely close. Sharing had never been as sweet as it was bitter, or
as depraved as it was heavenly.

Stockholm
Surrender

By popular
reader request, the full-length story of what happens after free read
Stockholm
Seduction
.

My soul
was in turmoil. Ty Winters had not only kidnapped me in Oz, my heart-stoppingly
gorgeous surfer had also stoked my darkest desires, bringing all my fantasies
to the surface. So Oxford wasn’t going well. Until, that is, he creeped from
the shadows—desperate, sexy, dangerous and wanting a piece of me,
literally!

He teased
me with a taste of his carnal skills, leaving me burning with frustration then
forced to stand by as he fought for his beliefs using my lust-addled body as
his most powerful weapon.

Oh, my
kidnapper knew just how to get what he wanted, giving me just what I needed,
while hiding our relationship from the British foreign minister and police.
Because sometimes two people are meant to be, even in the most unconventional
circumstances and twisted situations. We could fight the world, but we couldn’t
fight our passion.

Reader
Advisory: This book contains a steamy scene where Ty shares Penny with his best
mate—lucky girl!

Orchestrating
Manoeuvres

I have
everything a girl could want; money, beauty, friends in high places. So why
does it feel as if there’s a hole the size of Antarctica in my soul?

Because
missing Dale has become a way of life and now instead of making love to the man
of my dreams I rely on my battery-powered Rampant Rocker and spend my days
dodging work and slugging champagne-until, that is, the two heart-stoppingly
gorgeous Italian pianists who make up Ingresso Livello decide they want me.

Sing
praise to the Lord! That was a red letter day, I can tell you!

Being
asked to appear alongside them was risqué and controversial and set many
tongues a-wagging. Plus they had a very unique way of thanking me for my
troubles-turns out these two delectable musicians were as talented at creating
erotic delights in the bedroom as they were at playing mesmerising music on
stage.

Just the
medicine for my broken heart? Well, it was certainly a deliciously sexy
distraction and I would never, ever listen to the tinkling notes of a grand
piano the same way again. And as for my broken heart? Well, it felt a whole lot
better when everything slotted neatly into place.

Good Cop,
Bad Cop
(co-written with Natalie Dae)

Fame and
fortune is a blessing that, for me, has changed its taste from sumptuously
sweet to murderously bitter. Leaving me no choice but to look over my shoulder
at every turn and question the scruples of even my most faithful friends.

I would
give up all the glowing adoration from my fans in a heartbeat in exchange for
not running for my life. But fate doesn’t deal cards that way, and instead I
find myself far out at sea and being bounced between two hot cops—one so
chilly just his glance gives me frostbite, and the other showing a kindness
that barely covers his own demons.

So with
nowhere else to turn, quite literally, I have to trust two men I hardly know
with my life and cope without the luxuries my status usually affords me. But
it’s not long before I discover when the going gets tough, the tough get going.
Turns out these cops are not only the wrong guys to mess with, they also have
partnership skills above and beyond the requirements of their day job. And for
once, while just being me without the frills, I get to discover that they are
as sinfully bad as they are dreamily good in every department, and it seems, I
am the one they want cuffed and controlled at the same time as they are
protecting and serving.

Out of
sight, out of mind. Or so I thought, but it turns out an old, dog-eared book
with contents so filthy and so depraved that I’d been forced to hide it after
reading, has sank deeper into my erotic subconscious than I’d ever imagined.
Luckily though, Jacob is up for exploring the new side of me that has risen to
the surface after all these years.

In a
whirlwind of wanton adventures that push us to the limits of our sexuality, we
begin to re-discover what it once was that had us screaming with pleasure and
how to accept that nothing will ever be the same again between us.

Reader
Advisory: This book contains bondage, BDSM and an element of dubious consent
within a consensually acted out rape scenario.

REVIEWS
FOR
THAT
FILTHY BOOK

FALLEN
ANGEL REVIEWS - I recommend that every woman read this book, because unless you
experience it for yourself, I am not sure I can convey the emotion this book
evokes. Read the book. You won't be disappointed.

EROTICA
FOR ALL - I really enjoyed That Filthy Book. Yes, it’s incredibly kinky, dirty
and totally lives up to its name. But it’s much more than that too –
fabulously well written, engaging and heartwarming.

BEYOND
ROMANCE - If you want to be convinced that there is indeed (super-hot!) sex
after marriage, buy this filthy but delightful book.

Keep
reading to enjoy the first two chapters of That Filthy Book

Chapter
One

I
stared at him, this husband of mine, his naked form rendered a silhouette from
the brightness of the sun streaming through the hotel room window. The light
filtered through his black tousled hair, glinted off his shoulders, giving him
a glowing aura. This was our first time alone together since what felt like
forever, what with meeting and having children in the blink of an eye. Ten
years had passed—where had the time gone?—and here we were, away
for two nights just so we could get back to being who we used to be; why we’d
become a couple in the first place.

The
sun had hung heavy in a blue swathe of cloudless sky earlier, the fiery orb
almost lazy in its placement, as though someone had painted a picture and
tossed in the yellow ball, not caring where it landed. Funny how the sky could
be deceptive, making a person think it was hot outside when it was cold enough
to freeze the balls off a brass monkey. Faint, puffy clouds had appeared since
I’d first woken, too, and I marvelled at the way my body had gone back to its
old, pre- children habits. Waking, having sex, dozing off again.

Now—around
noon—it was time to get up, go out and do something, I supposed, but what
I didn’t know. I didn’t have any energy for anything much beyond another
languid fuck. A tress of my long blonde hair tickled my bare breast, the ends
teasing my nipple. It sparked desire inside me again, and I wondered if my body
would ever get enough this weekend. God, I’d been insatiable since we’d arrived
last night. Perhaps shirking off the shackles of motherhood, of the
responsibilities that came with the job, had freed my mind and allowed me to
abandon everything. I had become what I once was—a woman who enjoyed a
hot night of sex with her man, not giving a hoot whether her screams of
pleasure could be heard; whether the banging of the headboard would wake
someone.

But
I hadn’t shaken them off. Not really. They still lingered, a shadow of
feelings, whispers of our children’s laughter, thinking I could hear them
calling me... Tess and Lucy, our two wonderful little girls. And then there
were whispers of my fantasies, ones I’d held in check since I’d read a sexy
book many years ago. Ones that had made me think I was dirty for wanting them.
When I’d first met Jacob, I’d shoved away the feelings of guilt and let the
fantasies surface, briefly. Our rampant sex had been too enjoyable, too damn
hot to allow myself to dwell on whether what we did was right, but as the years
had rolled by and I’d become embroiled in motherhood, kinky sex had fallen by
the wayside, and the old trappings had moved in permanently. We can’t do this
because we’re parents. We can’t do that because of the girls. We can do that
because it’s too
rude...

I
stared at my surroundings to force my thoughts in another direction. The room
wasn’t much, just a double bed with white sheets and a beige quilt. Low
cabinets either side, the perfunctory wardrobe and a sideboard, all in light
wood that matched the colour of the quilt and walls. A sea of beige. But it
suited our needs. The decoration hadn’t exactly been on our minds when we’d
stumbled through the door last night. Ripping one another’s clothes off had
been the order of the evening.

“What
are you thinking?” Jacob asked, remaining at the window.

And
there he was, not even a flicker of movement indicating that he’d turned
around. Just him, standing there, a god in front of a glass pane. I studied his
reflection instead of responding, squinting to make out the faint, fine taper
of hairs that ran from his belly button down to the curly thatch nestled above
his cock. A long cock that was semi-hard, heavy- looking, and eminently
touchable. I loved the feel of it in my hand, the way my fingers curled around
its width, the softness of his skin on mine. A thrill ran through me at the
thought of it, and I folded my arms across my breasts in an effort to stop me
from fondling them. But why shouldn’t I? Too many nights we’d hurried, coming
together in a rush before the inevitable interruptions came. Too many nights
I’d denied myself the pleasure of having Jacob inside me.

‘Mum,
I want a drink of water. Mum, I can’t sleep...’ Stop thinking of them. You
promised yourself you wouldn’t do that.
And I had, but casting aside the
parental mantle wasn’t as easy as I’d told Jacob it would be. Wasn’t as easy as
flicking a switch. They crept in, the two girls we’d created— smiling
faces filling my mind, eclipsed by their worried expressions that made me think
they weren’t coping well without us.

They’re
with Jacob’s mum and dad. They’ll be fine.

My
determination that we could do this had persuaded Jacob to come away with me.
It had been a big thing, this, leaving the children behind, but if we hadn’t
done it now we never would.

“Is
it the kids?” he asked.

“No.”
I didn’t lie often, but if I admitted my thoughts then he would tag onto the
worry bandwagon and we’d end up going home. I didn’t want that. I wanted the
rest of the day, the night, and the majority of tomorrow morning to be just me
and him. It wasn’t too much to ask, was it? Not after ten years of being
devoted and never going out to the pub, never leaving them...

“I
was thinking about us,” I said, throwing the sheet away from my body and
sitting up. I stretched; a fingers-pointing-to-the-ceiling kind of stretch that
chased away all the kinks and left me loose-limbed and pliant.

Pliant.

Now
there was a word that brought a rush of desire to my cunt. Pliant made me think
of suppleness, of legs and arms twisted in difficult positions, of torsos
arched and backs curved. Jacob was pliant, always had been, and once upon a
time I’d been able to bend with the best of them. But now, after the kids and
getting out of my workout routine, a little weight had settled on my bones,
preventing me doing all those delicious things I used to do. Like bending over
to touch my toes and being taken from behind. Like widening my legs to such a
degree it was as though I was being
forced
into that position. Not that
I had been forced, but it was something I thought about every so often. Him
taking me against my will, a scenario that thrilled me more than it perhaps
should have. Just a little fantasy to keep me warm when Jacob worked away. And
the book I’d read had planted it into my mind, yet I’d tried to forget what
rested between the front and back covers, telling myself it just wasn’t proper
to want such things.

“What
about us?” he asked, lacing his hands behind his head and jutting his abdomen
out until his cock almost touched the glass.

“Someone
could see you like that, you know.” I’d avoided his question because...hell,
I’d grown shy somehow, grown out of being able to tell him exactly what was on
my mind. It made me feel embarrassed to say I’d been recalling the days when
we’d fucked for hours, sweat-soaked and sore, falling asleep only to wake for
more of the same. My mind had also wandered to the forced entry thing, hadn’t
it? A flicker of fast images shooting across the air in front of me as though
they were the real thing. Rough and ready sex. Pleasure-pain. Jacob speaking
sharply, his hands also abrasive, palms scouring my skin instead of skimming.
His cock a relentless shunt instead of a glide. Tongue an insistent probe
instead of a gentle exploration.

How
come being here had enabled my old self to at first poke me with a tentative
finger, but now jabbed with urgent pressure?