Welcome to Mid Week Tease, where myself and other author friends post a little something for you, the readers, from some of our published works, up-and-coming releases, and WIPs (Works in Progress).
*Waves* I know I've been M.I.A. for a few Mid Week Tease weeks, and I've missed you all. But, I'm happy to be back, and happy to announce the upcoming October 23rd release of Dark Tales Diaries: Volume Three. So, to kick off the celebration of a new release here's a little tease from that book for you all.
Genre(s): BDSM, Contemporary Erotic Romance, Rubenesque, Ménage, Short Stories, Series
For thirteen years Tristan Blackthorn has searched for his lost love, Keira—choosing to believe he would find her. Has the time for their reunion finally come?
When the ball-busting Patrice Wyngate figures out she’s not happy, she does what she does best—takes control. Yet hearing, “Dance for me” completely changes her life, and nothing will be the same again.
For Zoe Harper, there would be no more dieting. The plain truth of the matter was; her no-good cheating boyfriend could kiss her size fourteen ass. Because quite simply, she found a man who was happy to show her—Big Girls Do It Better.
Hadley Cooper, Eric Williams, and Jude Jamison have been best friends forever. Yet, at some point, their time living together would end; each of them finding “the one.” Only, Eric and Jude have other thoughts. They intend to make Hadley understand—Three’s Not a Crowd.
From Dance for Me:
“There’s a gentleman here to see you, Ms. Wyngate.” At the sound of my personal assistant’s voice reverberating over the speaker, I spun around in my swivel chair. “I informed him he needed to make an appointment, but he’s insistent.”
Glancing at the time, I tapped the talk button on my desk phone. “Does this gentleman have a name?”
“A Mr. Damon Armitage.”
My stomach started fluttering as if millions of butterflies took flight.
“Please give me a few minutes, then escort Mr. Armitage to my conference room, Lori.”
“As you wish, Ms. Wyngate.”
After taking a deep breath, I popped up from my chair—headed for my private restroom. Once there, I stared at my reflection in the fancy gilt mirror. With efficient movements, I combed my fingers through my dark-chestnut, shoulder-length curls. It was late in the afternoon, but all-in-all, my hair still had bounce, and my makeup was holding strong.
I gave myself the once over, gliding my palms along the bell of my hips. Thankfully, my silk print black and white pencil skirt wasn’t wrinkled from setting in meetings all day. And my kimono wrap top gave the allusion of light and airy. That was good. Although, I had to admit my honey-brown eyes appeared to be a bit excited.
Closing them I gave myself the talk.
“You have nothing to be nervous about, Patrice. You are a strong, independent woman who is going after what you need and want.”
When I was done cheering myself on, I opened my eyes and made sure my face and my body language kept my excitement—and yes my nervousness—concealed.
Fairly satisfied with the results, I exited the space, still willing my heart rate to slow to a normal pace, and went to the large opaque glass door that adjoined my office suite with my conference room. There, I paused.
The first time I’d met Mr. Armitage we’d been seated next to each other at a wedding reception. I remember thinking he reminded me of a slightly older version of Travis Fimmel, only with hunter-green eyes, and temptingly tousled chocolate-colored hair. While we’d never crossed paths before that day, we found out during small talk over dinner, we had a mutual friend in the bride. When dinner was over and the music started, he asked me to dance. I would have said yes, but my time with him was interrupted by an emergency call.
Damn cell phones.
The second time I met Mr. Armitage was by complete accident. Not that I ran into him in a grocery store or something. No. It was an accident quite simply because, he was the last man I was expecting to see. Let me qualify. I’d been making some discrete inquiries about an exclusive, member’s only—for lack of a better description—sex club. So, I wasn’t at all prepared when I scheduled a casual meet and greet lunch with the owner of said club, and he turned out to be the sexy, charismatic man who’d asked me to dance at a wedding reception two months earlier.
After I took another deep breath or two, all right, maybe it was more like three, I opened the door, and stepped into the room where the most handsome man I’d ever seen awaited. Unlike the last two times we met, I was at least semi-prepared for the devastating smile he wore.
It took six steps before I arrived to where he was seated. He watched me approach, his gaze sweeping over me from my black pumps to the top of my head before he stood and swiped his large hand down the front of his deep-purple tie.
“Mr. Armitage,” I greeted, extending out my hand. “I wasn’t expecting you to be in contact again so soon.”
“No. But it’s good to see you.”
Damon took hold of my proffered appendage, but instead of a shake, he lifted my hand to his bent head and brushed his lips over the backs of my knuckles in a soft and lingering manner before letting me go.
“Ms. Wyngate,” he said in a voice that slipped over every inch of my body like a velvet blanket. God. The man’s voice was amazing. Then I was walloped when he met my gaze. I wasn’t at all sure if it was his confidence, his voice, the remaining sensation of his lips on my flesh, or his piercing eyes that gave me the good kind of chills. However, I had to consider it very well may be the combination of them all. “The pleasure is assuredly mine.”
“Please,” I said, gesturing toward a chair. “Have a seat.”
He nodded. “Of course.”
“May I have my assistant bring you something to drink? A Pellegrino perhaps?”
Evidently my question pleased him since he hit me with his pearly whites once more. “You remembered.”
I don’t think I could forget one single thing about my last meeting with him, not even what he preferred to drink.
“Yes,” I said.
He waved a dismissive hand. “Thank you for offering, but I’m fine.”
“All right,” I said, taking my seat across from him.
“I’ve gone over all the information, keeping in mind what we personally discussed last week, as well what you submitted to me.”
“What you’ve requested is very specific.”
“Are specifics a bad thing?”
He gave a low laugh. “On the contrary. I have found a man whom I believe is exactly what you’re looking for.”
My stomach dipped. “Really?”
“Really,” he confirmed as he reached into his dark gray suit jacket and pulled out an envelope. “Here’s his personal and medical information.”
Damon placed the envelope on the table and slid it across to me with the tips of his obviously manicured fingers.
“Okay,” I said, plucking it up. “Do you want me to read this right now?”
He inclined his head.
Opening the envelope, I slid the paper out. After making sure I had a firm grip on my control in order to keep my hands from shaking, I allowed my attention to fall to the page I held.
Caucasian Male. 41 years of age.
Hobbies: Biking, hiking, racket ball, parasailing, scuba diving.
Occupation: Entrepreneur/Self employed
Sexual orientation: Straight
Family and marital status: Divorced. No children.
Then I read the detailed medical report.
Non tobacco user. Non smoker. Negative for HIV.
There were no sexually transmitted diseases or any type of communicable diseases. No major or even minor health problems. No family history of mental instability. I even knew this man’s blood type.
My eyes rounded.
Name: Damon Armitage
My head popped up and I looked at him, muttering, “You?”
“Tell me, Ms. Wyngate. Do you agree with my recommendation?”
I froze. Shocked. In fact, I don’t even believe I was blinking.
“Yes,” I said, focusing in on his stunning face.
He chuckled. “Would that be a ‘yes’ you agree?”
I carefully placed the paper down in front of me on the oak conference room table, and crossed my hands, sitting them atop the document I’d just read. “I’m. Well.” I cleared my throat. “I’m a little surprised,” I finally offered.
With a tilt to his head as though studying me he asked, “Why?”
“I guess….” I paused, trying to gather my addled thoughts. “I’m not sure. I suppose when I talked with you about what I was looking for; I just assumed you would—”
“Patrice,” he said, stopping my ramblings. “Make no mistake. From the first moment I saw you walk into Dana and Josh’s wedding reception, I wanted you for myself.”
This statement completely took me aback. Damon was commanding and sexy as all hell, and I couldn’t believe I interested him. I’m sure the man could have his pick of beautiful, sexually progressive women who knew all the ins and outs of the world he lived in.
“You did?” I asked, still attempting to wrap my mind around him wanting me.
He nodded. “Oh, yes. When you told me what you were looking for, what you desired, I knew you would be mine. There was no way I would arrange for any other man to possess you.” He met my gaze, dead on. “What you’re searching for and what I’ve been searching for are a perfect match. You wish to test your boundaries. Long to give up control. I enjoy having control. Trust me.” His voice had gone low. “It will be my greatest pleasure to give you exactly what you need.”
My mouth went dry. “It will?”
“Yes,” he said, assuredly. “Now. All I need is your agreement.”
I glanced down and studied my hands, and for the first time in my life, I felt unsure. Not of him. I had no doubt he was completely capable of giving me what I wanted. I wasn’t even unsure of myself. It was…Well, I wasn’t sure I could release the words from my mouth that would make this whole thing real.
“Patrice?” he questioned.
“Okay,” I said.
“Look at me.”
I did, struck by the charisma and sexual pull of this man. It surrounded him like an aura of pulsing power, bringing attention to the throbbing ache between my thighs.
“Tell me what I want to hear. Do you agree?”
Straightening my spine, I said, “Yes, Damon. I agree.”
He smiled, wide and bright. “That’s what I wanted.” There was a slight pause. “Tomorrow afternoon you will receive a little something from me via courier. You will wear what I send. My driver will arrive at your home tomorrow evening at eight o’clock to pick you up and bring you to me at Indigo House.” He rose in a breathtaking fluidity from where he’d been seated. “When you arrive, you will be escorted up to one of the private play rooms. You’ll wait for me there. Understand?”
He walked to where I was seated and held out a hand. I took it, wrapping my fingers around his and stood. He used his knuckles to methodically outline my jaw, then he tucked his fingers into my hair, pulling my head back. I gazed into his eyes, watching the pupils grow larger and darker, eating up the green of them as though he were starving for me. Longing zipped down the length of my body. Damon curled his palm around the base of my skull—securing me. Two heartbeats passed.
I shivered when he leaned down and whispered, his warm breath bathing my ear in sweet sensation. “Have no doubt. You, belong to me now, Patrice.”
He kissed me. One simple, soft, chaste kiss on the lips. But it was enough to almost bring me to my knees.
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