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Excerpt from The Fix, Nightlong Book #2

nightlong2As the orangery filled, I counted at least double the audience I had last time.

I had also got rid of my skirt and blouse combo in favour of a tight latex dress. No point in hiding what I was.

“Good afternoon, ladies.”

“Afternoon,” they replied collectively.

“Apologies that I missed a couple of sessions, but I had to go out of the country for something that required my immediate attention. You’ll be glad to know I’m back now and going nowhere.”

I hated talking publicly; it felt like I was talking to myself.

They all smiled politely in response, eager for the lesson to begin.

“So last time I talked with you all about safe words and my colleagues have informed me that you’ve since covered ropes and spreader bars, am I right?”

Some nodded, while other women mentally groaned. I saw it amongst them.

I grabbed my whip and flipped the whiteboard over in a flash, showing the rear side. When I cracked my whip against the board, to point at what I’d written there, half of them jumped at the sound I made.

Half of them stared at the word I’d written down.

“Fear,” I said, repeating what was on the board.

Claire the square put her hand up.

“Yes, Claire.”

“What about fear?”

I cracked the whip against the board again and a couple of ladies still jumped. I zeroed in on one particular lady, asking, “Why you do fear this? I was introduced to the whip when I was thirteen. I’ve used it as a resource to teach horses. Why do you jump at my use of it?”

Claire the square put her hand up but I ignored her and waited for the jumpy woman to answer me. Eventually she said, “It sounds harsh and it looks painful and it’s… something I’ve never handled before. It’s foreign.”

“Yes, we fear what’s foreign. Don’t we ladies?”

Many of them nodded in agreement.

“For many people in the BDSM world however, they use the dynamics of dominatrix/sub or male dom and sub to face their fears, even explore them. When I said the safe word doesn’t always protect both partners, I meant it. Our heads vault off somewhere else when we’re aroused and engaged in a fantasy. We all know, the fantasy has the potential to go wrong.”

“So what are you saying?” It was a feisty looking blonde glamazon on the front row who spoke up without raising her hand.

“Fear is what you must play on if you are to become dominant. Find their fears and extract them, then explore them. BDSM doesn’t have to involve the giving or receiving of extreme pain to win submission. Fear of the unknown alone engages the sub to submit. Put a collar on them, or their bonds, and they know their place. What I’m saying is… rather than have your men addicted to pain, why not have them addicted to you instead? If they don’t submit, they face the potential loss of your love and men fear the loss of their woman. It’s what they fear more than anything. So through fear, extract their innermost desires, make them your slave and reward them heartily when they do exactly as you say.”

I looked around and spotted many scribbling wildly in their notebooks.

“How do we start?” Glamazon asked again, no hand in the air.

“First, you find your confidence.”

Many groaned as if that was something they found hard – or impossible.

A woman at the back stuck her hand in the air and I nodded for her to speak.

“But all of you here are stunning, like models. We’re just ordinary.”

“Everyone is ordinary, until they become extraordinary,” Amber said, walking to the front to stand next to me.

While I wore a latex dress, Amber wore a navy, lace-overlay playsuit.

“Confidence is simply believing that when you walk down the street, you don’t need a man to notice you to know you look good. Looking good comes from within. It’s not anti-feminist to treat yourself, or to look after yourself, so that you look good. You’re doing it for yourselves. You have to make your men worship you. Be aloof… be cool… be mysterious. Be unreadable, be hard to get. Make them work for you. Challenge them. Surprise them. Wear styles you’ve never worn before, try out new shades but for god sake, above all else, feel comfortable in what you wear and remember that he loves you, not labels or expensive toiletries. He loves you. And if he doesn’t love you, he’s not worth it and there’ll be another guy out there desperate to submit and worship you.”

“How do we surprise them?” one lady asked. “Some of us have been married a long frickin’ time.”

I suppressed my laughter, noticing many others were amused, and I took over from where Amber left off, telling the audience, “Does he have a favourite fragrance of yours? Maybe one you wore in the early days? If so, spray it on his handkerchief and pop it in his pocket. Spray it on a pair of knickers and pop those in his pocket. Even better, have some fun while wearing the knickers and pop them in his pocket, unwashed. Show him that you don’t necessarily need him to find pleasure. It’s your gift to him that he gets to pleasure you. You are the goddess and he’s your slave. He needs direction, not you. You know your body and he needs help in knowing it too . . .”

The Fix releases November 1st.

Visit Amazon to download book one: Here

Visit Amazon to pre-order book two: Here

nightlong1

Posted on by sarahmichellelynch

Pre-order Dom Diaries Now + Excerpt

domdiaries

RELEASING MAY 3RD

Blurb

The Sub Rosa Trilogy uncovered the dark secrets beneath the lies. But what about the story beyond the mystery?

In this companion novel, TV presenter turned magazine editor Carl Sorensen has his say in these diaries chronicling his journey from a lost soul betrayed by all the women he loves – to a true, dedicated dom determined to lead a better life.

His uncensored confessions reveal all the dirty secrets that eventually put him on the same path as the woman who would become his wife.

Ultimately, what makes a dom and more importantly, WHO makes a dom?

Be prepared to have your belief system shaken up all over again.

Reading Order:

UNBIND (Book 1) : http://mybook.to/unbind

UNFURL (Book 2) : http://mybook.to/unfurl

UNLEASH (Book 3) : http://mybook.to/unleash

DOM DIARIES (a companion) : http://mybook.to/domdiaries

http://mybook.to/unbind

AUTHOR NOTE

I have a word or two of warning:

This book contains lots of major spoilers for the Sub Rosa series. I highly recommend reading the trilogy first otherwise you will not be as emotionally invested as you pick up this book.

Rather than adding to the series, this complements if nothing else, but does contain a couple of little added twists.

Rather than rehash the trilogy, Carl’s diaries highlight the pivotal points of his life, when he’s either desperately in agony or ecstatically happy.

Once again:

You have been warned. Read the trilogy first.

Happy reading.

Sarah x

 

EXCERPT

AUGUST 1, 2008

11.01 p.m. HOME. Since Marie started taking me to her friend’s dungeon, everything has changed. I’ve had my eyes opened. I’ve… been educated. Let me go back to the first night, and then I’ll tell you (dear diary) what has happened since…

It was a Saturday night, the day after July 4th. Hot. Sticky. She told me to wear normal clothes because costumes would be provided at the door.

We walked through an old, stately apartment building in Gramercy and I was led through a home furnished in paisley and dominated by polished glass, with all the walls in walnut and beige. Soon enough we found ourselves waiting before an invisible entrance, wallpaper hiding the joins of a hidden door.

We walked through into an entirely different world of dark wood and leather, of latex and naked flesh. High human scents mixed with hard materials – it was a heady combination. The smell of fresh pussy already had me filling my pants.

We were led to a cloakroom of sorts and passed our costumes, so to speak. Marie was given a black cloak which tied at the front to conceal her entire body. I was given a pair of black, silk pants.

In a small changing room together, I watched as she stripped to her bare skin and pulled on just the cloak. I did the same, wearing only the silk pants.

‘So far so good?’ she asked me.

I merely raised my brow and smiled.

‘Good,’ she replied, ‘now remember what I said, this is a pain-free dungeon. Just playing. None of the equipment here is for pain. It’s all kid’s plasticky stuff. We make this up as we go along.’

I nodded and we placed our normal clothes in a wicker locker outside the door.

We were led down a wooden staircase into what I presumed was a basement. Each step I took made the steps creak beneath my feet. I was aware this was shabby chic; shabby full stop.

Down in the thick of it, I was surprised to see men and women chatting idly, sat around on wooden benches with a drink in their hand. There were a couple of male waiters handing out drinks, dressed in leather chaps with just a strip of a thong protecting their modesty.

A woman dressed in one of the black cloaks called for everyone’s attention and said, ‘Usual rules apply. No real names. No facts. No intercourse. No pain. No other rules. Enjoy.’

A door was opened into another room and I realized the one we were in was but an antechamber.

Marie tipped her champagne glass against mine and clinked. ‘Don’t you drink, Carl?’

‘I don’t actually.’ It was funny. I wouldn’t have admitted that, had I not known that what went on in the dungeon, no doubt stayed in the dungeon.

‘More for me,’ she grinned, taking my glass for herself.

We walked towards the doorway where the real festivities took place and for a brief moment, I felt like all these doorways were passageways into either prison or freedom. I was hoping for the latter.

Before we went into the real dungeon, one of the waiters marked my shoulder with an ultraviolet pen so I bore a clear, “L” on my skin.

‘Learner,’ whispered Marie, ‘so that people know. Stick with me.’

We walked indoors, finally, to be greeted by what seemed to be instruments of torture but were absolutely toys. Many more women than men were in charge and as we passed through and observed, I heard a few of the men groan as their partners humiliated and stroked their bodies with playful torture instruments such as ticklers, fake riding crops and mostly, their own boots.

‘What would your dom do to you?’ I whispered in Marie’s ear.

She looked up into my eyes from her smaller stature and giggled. ‘I’ll show you.’

She led me to an oversized wooden chair, the like you see people electrocuted in. She asked me to fasten the wrist and ankle holds, which I did.

‘My safe word is deluxe,’ she says, ‘which basically means I’m premium and ready to finish.’

I grinned. ‘Do I need one?’

‘No, not unless you would like to be dominated.’

‘Never.’

‘Okay, then.’

carl

Posted on by sarahmichellelynch

19 days to go…

With 19 days to go until this book’s release… here’s a little snippet of BEYOND ANGEL AVENUE, an emotive, devastating tale. A sequel to Angel Avenue, this book delves into the archives, revealing why a hug meant so much to Jules when she first met Warrick Jones all those years ago…

Prologue

 

fac841f0ca653d0da35a9f773eb1bb8cJulianne, aged five, danced for her mother, some TV show blaring in the background. It was the Christmas holidays and they’d cleared a big space in the living room. Julianne’s father slept upstairs. Recently sacked from his job, he was constantly moody and irritable. Lorraine, the little girl’s mother, didn’t want her husband to know she was teaching Julianne to dance. She didn’t think he would understand. She also knew he might get jealous. Julianne’s one Christmas present was her first set of ballet slippers. While all the other boys and girls had piles of presents under the tree, this mother and daughter shared a gift beyond most people’s wildest dreams.

“Julie, no telling Daddy,” Lorraine would often say, and Jules would tap her index finger against her nose.

In her second year of school, Julianne would turn six in February but they didn’t have money for dance lessons so Lorraine taught her daughter at home.

“Extend, my pretty, oh that’s beautiful, that’s wonderful,” Lorraine exclaimed as Julianne – still so young – already demonstrated natural-born ability. “Have fun, move as you wish.”

Julianne pranced and giggled, swishing and swooping, her mother such a good teacher that she encouraged freedom of expression as well as discipline.

“First position Julianne, good.” The little girl raised her arm and held the back of the sofa to steady herself. “Plie, my darling, oh yes, keep your back… oh perfect, you don’t even need me to say.”

It was clear how much strength the little girl already had in her core. She had muscle definition, even for one so young. Lorraine had been teaching Julianne since she was three and a half.

They heard creaking upstairs, signifying Julianne’s father was getting up.

“Quick baby, let’s put the room back.”

They returned the sofa against the wall and put the coffee table back in the middle of the main floor space. They sat on the sofa and Lorraine grabbed some Value crisps for them to sit and eat, making it look like they’d been doing nothing but veging out in front of the TV.

“Where’s my tea?” Julian Simonovich asked gruffly, falling heavily into his armchair.

Without a word, Lorraine stood up and went to the kitchen.

Julianne stared at the TV, not looking at her father.

When Lorraine returned to the room with tea and toast for Julian, she told him, “We’re going out for the groceries, alright?” Her voice carried little affection.

“Get me some more of them pop tarts,” he grumbled, “fucking hate scabby toast.”

For your munchies, more like, thought Lorraine.

“We can hardly afford bread let alone overpriced junk,” Lorraine countered.

“So get another job. It’s not my fault I got sacked.”

Lorraine bit her tongue. It was his fault, but he was looking for anyone else to blame it on.

“I can’t. What about Julie? Who will get her to school and pick her up?”

He grunted. He was barely out of bed before ten everyday and he would no doubt forget to pick his daughter up. Besides, Lorraine didn’t trust him to look after Julianne. Lorraine would do anything to keep her daughter safe. Anything. Working as a receptionist for six hours a day was all she could manage and she didn’t want to put upon Julie’s grandmother, who was a bitter woman with a bias for her son. A pub job in the evening would mean leaving her child with Julian and Lorraine didn’t trust him not to go out and leave her all alone. She wouldn’t have put it past him. In the last year everything had changed for the worse and Lorraine was worried about the future.

“Let’s go, Julie,” Lorraine ordered, helping the girl on with her coat and boots.

They left the house, trundling down the hill towards the centre of town and the shops. In Frozen Foods, they picked up all the bargains on the £1 shelves and Lorraine submitted to Julian’s demand for pop tarts.

“Why are you sad, Mummy?”

“I’m not sad.”

“You are. Why don’t you dance with me? Why don’t you want Daddy to know I dance?”

Avoiding Julianne’s eyes, Lorraine explained, “A demon lives in Daddy. It makes him say and do and want bad things. Dancing is a good thing, yes?”

“Yes,” Julianne nodded, happily.

“He might try to take away anything good from us. We must keep all our good locked away, so he can’t steal it. That’s why I put your dance fund under the floor, honey.”

“Oh.”

Lorraine was saving up a few pounds each week so that Jules could go to dance school when she was older. For now, most of her hopes and dreams seemed so far off – but she had great ambition for Julianne, her second chance.

“Can we go to the park?” asked Julianne.

“Okay, but it’ll be very snowy!!”

“That’s okay, I want to build a snowman.”

“Okay.”

Lorraine sat on a bench with the shopping at her feet, chilling it on the ground. Julianne pranced and rolled in the snow, giggling her head off.

“Show me how to dance the snow angel dance, Mummy! Show me, show me!”

“No, darling, no.”

“Pleeeeassse!”

Lorraine stood and wobbled on her feet. “No, Julianne. No. Let’s go home.”

The child held her mother’s hand on the way home but she was shaking and trembling, in fear of her mother suddenly.

“I’m sorry, Julie, but I had my love of dance stolen from me. I never fulfilled my promise darling.” Bitter tears gathered but didn’t fall from Lorraine’s eyes.

They arrived home to an empty house and Lorraine grumbled to herself. Julian had no doubt gone out for his fix. While he was gone, Julianne suggested, “I’ll dance again to cheer you up?”

“No, no, darling, it’s okay. I don’t want you straining your little legs. We’ve tired you enough today. Why don’t we just do each other’s hair, hmm?”

“I like doing your hair, Mummy.”

Julianne brushed out her mother’s hair, which fell to her waist. The little girl tried to plait it but wasn’t quite skilled enough yet and by the end, she was making more knots than anything. Then Lorraine skilfully plaited Julianne’s hair into a French braid.

“You’re my beautiful mummy,” Julianne exclaimed out of the blue, and Lorraine squeezed her daughter tight, feeling richer for having a daughter’s love.

Lorraine would never leave her daughter to that foul man.

But for some reason, she did…

**END**

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Posted on by sarahmichellelynch

Unleash – Prologue

KAY (4)

April 2014

I HEARD IT from a friend of mine sitting in the ‘congregation’ at Jennifer Matthews’ memorial: Cai Matthews broke down in the middle of Carl Sorensen’s eulogy and couldn’t be comforted—in fact his whole body seemed to be shaking and not only did his wife look worried, but Carl did too. I was in South London shopping for necklaces at the time but after hearing the news, I couldn’t concentrate and abandoned my work-based trip to head back to the Elle offices in Soho. There I got short shrift from colleagues when asked if I knew what was going on and I said, “How the hell would I know? I haven’t seen them yet.”

I got back to my desk and after sitting twiddling my thumbs for long enough to know I wouldn’t be able to concentrate on anything else all day, I told my boss Kendra ‘Kensey’ Lindsey I was leaving for the day.

“To get the exclusive?” she asked in her husky Scouse accent as she sat at her wide, white desk, littered with proofs, layouts and post-its. I knew she would sign off most of it without even really checking things through.

“Don’t joke, Kendra,” I fired back, disgusted.

Her poker-straight blonde hair perfection, her pale features made up in nude tones—if only she wasn’t wearing some awful, lime-green monstrosity. The woman couldn’t dress for shit though people excused her as ‘subversive’ or ‘trend-setting’.

Bull—shit.

“You work for us, not them.”

I took a seat in the chair opposite hers. It was absurd of her thinking I would squeal so easily. Time to pull her down a peg or two. Faced with someone trying to cut down my friends, I could turn nastier than any animal caught in a trap.

“There’s no exclusive here,” I assured her, “just a man who lost a relative. Plus the last time I checked, there was no us and them. Chloe left Frame two years ago to work for Chanel and Cai’s got more influence outside the fashion world than you could ever hope to earn. Clearly you’re barking up the wrong tree if you think you can persuade me to not only betray my friends but cross such powerful people, too.”

She tapped the end of her pilot pen against her teeth. “I have it on authority there’s something about that family, something like a mystery, and they don’t want anyone to find out.”

“What authority?”

This confrontation had been coming a while, I supposed. Most of the time she and I didn’t talk. In fact I despised her, but a job was a job.

“That would be telling.”

“Well, I’ll be visiting Chloe directly after here but I won’t be coming back with any kind of exclusive for you.” Yes, I have a way in and you don’t. Stick that in your cauldron and smoke it.

She turned her chair sideways so all I could see was her profile. Tipping her head back, she folded her arms. “Ever since you came here from the higher echelons of Empire, you’ve never not judged yourself better than us. You obviously have no loyalty.”

“Yet you promoted me, funny that, isn’t it? But… you’re right, I have no loyalty,” I told her straight, my hands resting on the arms of my spinning chair, “but actually, I don’t think I’m above you, I know I am. For a start, I don’t bitch about every member of staff in this place behind their back and when I arrive in the morning and head for the coffee machine, I ask others around me if they want one too. I don’t make my assistant remake my drinks until I get the kind of high only an egotistical maniac does from exerting their power over others.” I watched her face turn scornful. “Also, you spreading it across the desk every night has been more than noted by the security guys and they’re not exactly silent about what they’ve seen on CCTV.”

She cackled, so proud of herself.

“I only ended up here after receiving a random email from Klaus Häuser, who suggested I drop his name. He used to be friends with my friend Chloe—though I’ve always wondered what the crack is with that man, picking up girls like Chloe, no morals or scruples—yet the world rewards him anyway.”

She sneered; she knew what she was. This ‘authority’ she talked of was no doubt him. “Why make apologies when nobody else does, either?”

“That’s the kind of antediluvian attitude I’d expect from someone worse off than you, not a woman given the world. So what is the downside of having this job, hun? What does he make you do in exchange… maybe, taking it up the butt? Does he do your paperwork and bully people into doing what you say? I just don’t get how you survive when you’re full of nothing but hot air.”

I was on a roll but I’d had it with this woman.

“You can clear your desk, Kayla,” she spat, trying not to show I was getting to her.

I’m just not done yet. “The nature of all this… it makes me wonder now. It does make me wonder about a few things, especially you and Klaus and your need to know about what’s going on with Chloe and Cai. Seems to me I’m stuck in the middle of a shit storm of lies, backstabbing and revenge, if the rumours about yours and Jennifer’s feud is anything to go by.”

Kendra swaggered, “She just never liked me. I don’t know why. She just wanted to be queen of everything, that woman.”

I stood and looked down on her. “You’ll give me a good redundancy package otherwise I’ll sell what I know about you to some tabloid and we all know how much they’re willing to pay.”

She stood with her hands on the desk and lowered her eyes to mine like she might pounce across and rip my hair out. Six foot, she towered over me but I could take her. She snarled, “You wouldn’t dare.”

“I’ve had other offers and I’ve built relationships with other magazines and companies. I don’t have anything to lose if I leave and everything to gain. I don’t care if you threaten me, I can do as I please. So, you’ll do me a favour and let me go with a nice exit package and I will keep your disgusting manners and your filthy fucking habits to myself.”

She gritted her teeth, “We’ll see about all this, we’ll see.”

“I guess we will,” I smiled, and left her office.

***

THE pretty nanny, Teri opened the door of Chloe’s Notting Hill mansion to let me inside and I had to shake off my hatred of Kendra and prepare myself for whatever drama Cai Matthews had created this time. The man was a menace. If only Chloe didn’t love him so much, I would have told her to escape to some colony and never come back. Trouble brewed around the Matthews’ clan like flies round shit.

I shook off my bag and coat in the hallway and quickly asked her, “What’s going on, then?”

“He seems calm now, actually,” she said with surprise in her eyes, “they have a guest, some tall man. Very dishy.”

“Oh?”

“Carl somebody.”

Shit.

I’d only ever seen him in pictures but I knew he was absolutely devastating.

“Tea, Kayla?”

“Err, yeah, I suppose,” I replied.

While she went into the kitchen to boil the kettle, I stood in the hall thinking about how to approach this. I knew myself and I knew, if he was even more beautiful in real life, I was about to make a total fool of myself. It was how I coped in these sorts of situations.

I took the door handle and thought, nothing for it.

I crashed into the room, all action, no thought. If I let myself think, I’d say something totally fucking stupid.

I looked between everyone in the room and let my eyes glance at Carl, who sat with his legs crossed, briefly looking up under his brow at me.

Shit, my heart is pounding like a motherfucker now. Can he see it kicking into gear?

The man exuded sex, grace and eligibility and I’d only had a glance so far!

When my eyes landed on Cai, Christ, I knew the man was broken. He was totally broken. He looked worn out, his eyes sunken, his olive skin pallid and wan.

What’s going on here? I asked myself.

I perched myself next to Chloe, holding out my arms. She rushed into my embrace and grabbed me tight, letting me know this was bad. She was suffering and she didn’t know how to comfort him. Cai, in a corner of the sectional seating by himself, looked like he was in a world of his own.

“Well now, I didn’t expect this, tea and biscuits, eh?” I said throwing my head back on a loud tut, reaching for humour, because humour always worked. “Cai, when she’s breastfeeding, you know she only eats packs of donuts!”

Not a speck of reaction from Cai.

I dared not look at Carl again, I might have come on the spot, but I could see him staring at me and it made me feel so uneasy.

“You’re such a bitch!” Chloe scolded me.

“Me? A bitch? I’m just looking out for you. So what’s been going on?” I was breathless because a huge, beautiful man sat opposite me and I wanted to stare back at him, too. However, I was there to help my friends, not jump the dishy American.

“You can’t just march in here like you own the show! We’ve been doing fine thanks,” she exclaimed, gesturing subtly to Carl.

You’re here to help Cai, you’re here to help Cai! I had to remind myself. I’d witnessed his meltdowns before and they were ugly, but this one seemed serious.

“Hmm, whatever, now let me see those big blues, Cai Matthews. Let me see them,” I asked clearly. He lifted his chin slowly and looked up. I could tell he was in pain, the kind you can’t express through words. “You finally snapped then, boy? Can’t say it surprises me, I’m just surprised you held out so long. Must be a tough one, you.”

He smiled a little so I pushed on, ignoring the elephant in the room, “Listen to me. Okay? I’ve got her so while I’m holding her, she’s okay, she’s safe with me. Now listen. I have some training in this area…” I’ve had several years’ worth of counselling, “…and what I want you to do is tell us the problem, how ever big or small, and we’ll all deal with it right here and now, we can all deal with it. I’ve got her, nothing bad will happen, because believe me this bitch ain’t as strong as me. Now, c’mon. Let it go, Cai. Just tell us the problem.”

Cai shook his head and removed his suit jacket, running his hands up and down his cheeks. “I feel like I need a drink.”

“Never solved a thing,” Carl said, and oh god, his voice made my nipples hard. In my bondage top and jeans, I felt contained and trapped. I wished I’d worn heels, not my big, clopping steam punk boots.

Keep your hat—or more importantly—your knickers on.

I agreed with Carl, trying not to look at his eyes for too long, turning my focus back on Cai. “Too true. How about you just try some deep breaths, from your diaphragm. Few deeps breaths. I could be doing with some fucking tea though people, the K.T. here be thirsty after three tubes and Kensey fucking me up.”

While Cai took some deep breaths, Chloe frowned and asked, “What? How?”

“The woman is a fucking bitch. She was all like, ‘You go get the exclusive from Chloe,’ and I was all like, ‘No sodding chance, luv,’ so then she was like, ‘Oh like that is it? Well I know where your loyalty lies Kayla,’ so then I told her to swivel on her stick and eat it. The shagged out old bag.” Not those words exactly, though that’s how it was in my head!

Chloe giggled but it was Carl’s reaction that astonished me. He covered his face with his hands and his laugh, so deep and throaty, turned me on even more.

It made me ecstatically happy to have made him laugh. My heart picked up even more pace and my eyes and his finally met for a stretch longer than a glance.

Hazel. He had hazel eyes.

I think that was the moment I fell…

***UNLEASH RELEASES JULY 9TH***

Posted on by sarahmichellelynch

The Work in Progress (w.i.p.) Blog Tour

Writer and blogger Ebony Angel, who currently resides over at angelwithadirtyface.com, tagged me to share a little something of what I am currently working on. I recently met this lovely lady at the Peterborough signing and you should definitely check her out and follow the thread back to who tagged her and who tagged them and who tagged who… just keep the chain going!

This task made me think hard about what to share because my current WIP is full of potential spoilers for Unbind and Unfurl, books one and two in the SUB ROSA TRILOGY. The snippet that follows is from book three Unleash and I haven’t released many details about this book yet, but obviously it’s the last and final SUB ROSA book . . .

I’m going to tell you nothing about Unbind and Unfurl except those two books are Cai and Chloe’s story and this one is Kayla’s. Kayla’s story goes into a little bit more depth about hers and Chloe’s childhood and draws together all the threads previously laid out in books one and two. There’s been a lot going on behind the scenes that Chloe doesn’t know about and basically, this snippet gives you some idea of the network of people embroiled in the SUB ROSA secrets. Unleash picks up exactly where Unfurl left off. Below, I have removed some spoilers with the mark […]

Kayla has been an absolute scream to write. The research and well, just everything about the last book, has been an exhilarating, rollercoaster ride . . . and I can’t wait for you to get to know her better. So let’s go . . .

EXCERPT:

Valentine’s. There couldn’t be a worse day to be single, right? Wrong! I love being single. I’ve learned to love being single! What’s not to love, right? I don’t have unwashed pants to pick up off my floor nor any used condoms stuck to the toilet bowl or the bottom of my refuse bin. Plus the biggest bonus is that I know nobody can cheat on me as long as I am single.

When I finished university twelve years ago, I left my hometown behind and moved to London—basically for a man—and for the next nine or ten years (I don’t like to count the wasted time), I lived in misery. All because of my ex, Rob, a serial cheat I held onto for longer than I should’ve done and all because he was a vicious cycle I couldn’t stop repeating.

Now I’m free, what’s not to like about being single? Well, no sex is a bit of a downer but then again there are battery operated devices. Then again I could do one-night stands if I wanted to. If I wanted to. I’ll never be that type. [. . .]

My best friends Chloe and Cai are opening a gallery tonight. So here I am. Getting legless and swooping about the place like the social butterfly everyone has come to view me as. It’s how I’ve gotten here and it’s how I’ll stay in this world, I tell myself—being the flame every moth gravitates towards.

Except some days I feel so dark inside, I need other types of darkness to obliterate me. Like heavy metal throbbing in my ears at full blast from a pair of headphones or a bottle of bourbon I might find my way to the bottom of, so that I might find the bottom of me. It never works.

Cai has really good taste. This place is not only lit well, but huge. Like, massive. I could start running from the front door and have built up a full sprint before I reach the other end of the room. In the centre of the main downstairs gallery, a long row of leather armchairs and sofas divides the room, all of them facing opposite ways like musical chairs. Standing by a wall on my own, in my already slightly drunken haze, I imagine this being a great venue for a Christmas party, some bad Noddy Holder tune stopping as at least three hundred people try to squeeze their arses into the Chesterfields. I laugh to myself. My mind drifts easily, I guess.

The artwork in here is worth in excess of £1billion and no foppish Christmas party will ever take place inside. In fact, the armed staff in starched shirts are casting such a presence on this room, nobody could have fun without worrying they’d get bounced at the door. Anyway, back to the subject. The original floors have been polished to within an inch of their lives. I get that my best friend’s husband likes wood—he’s American after all—but this stuff in here is pretty amazing. Chloe told me he had the floor pulled up and all of it completely restored piece by piece. The walls are all painted a crisp white and offset the exceptional artwork hanging all around. [. . .]

When the racket of shouting photographers and screaming fans from outside hits the inside of the gallery, I groan and toss my head back. I grab another glass of fizz from a passing waiter and drown more of my sorrows. I know the only person on the guest list tonight who commands that kind of reaction is Carl Sorensen. [. . .]

I know he’s here because the hairs on the back of my neck are on end and my heart is racing so fast! Defiant, I turn my back on the room and absorb myself in the glass I’m holding—and in thinking about plans for my new business. I try to forget HIM, but it’s difficult.

All I feel is the heat in my cheeks evoked by the mere thought of Carl Sorensen, whom I haven’t even laid eyes on yet. However, I know he’s here. I feel him in the room. Every pore of me reacts to his proximity.

I hear Cai’s voice before I hear Carl’s but I know they’re walking across the room together, Carl’s arm around Cai’s shoulder. I see their images reflected in the large windows at the back of the gallery.

God, so, they’re best buds now?

Ugh.

I toss a side glance in their direction and now I feel even worse than I did before. He looks absolutely, unbelievably gorgeous in a designer suit.

Cai leads Carl to the temporary bar set up in one corner and the two chat sociably for a couple of minutes before Cai is collared by one of those arty farty types you thought only ever left their houses for bread, milk or cigarettes. Seems not.

Carl’s head jolts when he catches my eye. For a second I’m not thinking, not even sure I’m feeling, I’m just lost in his eyes. Then I remember…

* * *

I’d now like to tag my friend, romance author Audrina Lane to share some of her WIP and tell you more about her books. Also, I’m going to tag fantasy author Blake Rivers who has been a huge support! I hope you guys are able to share something!

Thanks x x x

Posted on by sarahmichellelynch · 2 Comments

#New #Release – The Second Book in the Sub Rosa Trilogy

??????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????BLURB:

I’ll stab you in the heart.
I’m coming for you.
No secret dies.
But you will.

In the concluding part of Chloe and Cai’s tale of frantic, tempestuous, meaningful love…

When news breaks that enigmatic magazine editor Jennifer Matthews is dead, it irks Chloe that Cai refuses to shed even one tear. What she doesn’t know is that he was expecting it, perhaps even, hoping for it.

In this dark, romantic tale of revenge, Cai explodes the deepest, most destructive aspects of his past as he comes to terms with the tragedy at the heart of Jennifer’s downfall. With Chloe’s love and support, he must brave his demons and dodge death to finally end a bitter feud between two damaged families.

**This book is not intended to stand alone and is the second in a three-part series, concluding in UNLEASH – Kayla Tate’s story.**

unfurl collageEXCERPT:

“Tell me, when was it the hottest for you? Just now… or some other time?” she asked giggling, running her hands across my chest, nibbling my ear at my side.

“Hmm,” I murmured, stroking her butt, “it’s always hot.”

“No, I wanna know when… when was it the hottest for you, you can be honest.”

I licked the sweat from her neck and thought carefully. “Two times. I’m not sure which wins the contest, we might have to re-run.”

She cackled, her hand squeezing my butt beneath my slack jeans.

“Those two times, then?”

“The first time we ever did it,” I admitted, though that was a one-off I’d always told myself, “maybe, the time you tied me up, licked me all over, sucked my ass and rode me backwards cowgirl.”

She groaned. “Good times. Wanna know my favourites?”

I nodded against her shoulder. “Of course.”

“Well, Barbados… the first night of our honeymoon. I bathed in front of the ocean in that roll-top bath on the terrace, remember?”

“How could I forget?” I chuckled. “I thought someone would see.”

“You wrapped me in a towel afterwards and carried me to bed. You were angry the hotel forgot we didn’t ask for roses, but you lowered me to the roses on the bed anyway. You kissed every inch of me and I remember feeling so full, so womanly, as you worshipped my pregnant body.”

I ran my hands over her breasts and her flat stomach. “I love it when you’re so full and blooming. I love seeing you come alive.”

Her smile was carefree and she was so giggly. “I loved that night, it was the first time I couldn’t control my orgasms, the first time I felt like I really had no control of my body or my love for you. It scared me… but it was wonderful.”

I stared down into her eyes, our noses touching, knowing I would never feel so close to another human being for as long as I lived. “And the other time memorable for you?”

She smiled and held my cheek, one eyebrow cocked dramatically. “The night I tied you up.”

“Ding, ding, ding. I think we have a winner.” I growled in her ear, and asked, “I think it stands out because we haven’t done it since, yeah?”

“Yeah… I didn’t know whether you’d wanna do it again,” she said clawing her hands through my hair.

I laughed, it was ironic! “I was worried you did it that one time to humour me, that you didn’t initiate it again because you didn’t really like it. I thought ’cause that fuck Klaus made you spank him and you didn’t enjoy it, I thought you didn’t really go for that sort of stuff!”

She rolled on top and tickled my armpits. “To be honest, I think I knew even back then his intentions weren’t honourable. I think a woman knows these things, Cai, even if sometimes she doesn’t want to admit it.”

“Feminine intuition?” I cocked a brow.

“Something like that,” she admitted, “he was nice, but somehow I dunno, not right.”

I grabbed her ass and kneaded it. “Men are simple in some ways, complex in others. Sometimes a man’s desires can make him feel a little out of control. Like, he can’t concentrate on a thing else. I know my libido sometimes takes precedent… and I’d hump you every chance I got if we didn’t have company, if we didn’t have kids. I suppose when a woman’s in charge and she lets you know it’s okay to be nasty, it’s such a turn on. When she tells you that you’re filthy and bad, dirty and disgusting, but you see it in her eyes that she enjoys that… fuck, just that is making me hard thinking about it. Just you, wearing something racy… something black and tight, a paddle in your hand or something… wanting to strike me. I could probably come on the spot, Chloe. It’s not in me to want to mark you, but I’d love it if you did that to me! Don’t ask me why, but fuck, I just think about it… I think I know why my mother did it to so many men. I think it gave her some outlet when she didn’t want sex, you know?”

She bit my chest, rolling a nipple under her thumb, my arousal steadily climbing. “I want to dominate you again. It’s one of the nights amongst the many amazing nights we’ve had that I’ve thought about a lot since.”

“God, me too. Me too, Chloe. Shall we go online now and order a ton of shit?”

She shook her head, her voice low and warning. “You div. I’m in charge. You’ll do as I say… you’ll do it when I say, how I say, you’ll do as you’re told, and you’ll come on demand for Mistress Chloe.”

eBook purchase: http://mybook.to/unfurl

paperback purchase: http://www.amazon.co.uk/Unfurl-Volume-2-Sub-Rosa/dp/1508778248/

Click cover to buy Book One in the series:

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Posted on by sarahmichellelynch

UNFURL – PROLOGUE

COMING SOON!!

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EVERYDAY I WOKE, and I was nothing. I went to sleep, and I was less. When I opened my eyes to the world on my 21st birthday, it wasn’t a day to celebrate. It was the same as any other.

I lifted my head to look at the blinding, ignorant world outside the window and felt an instant need to spew. I ran from my bed to the toilet and evacuated my guts into the bowl.

Everyday, the same.

I swallowed hard and panted as I rested back against the cold tile. I couldn’t keep doing this to my body, I knew it. Breaking myself down just so I could build myself back up, fuelling the demons just so I could kill them again in the ring.

The cycle, perpetual.

I stood and walked back out into the apartment she bought for me. At the window, I looked down on Brooklyn and Manhattan beyond that… and I felt, nothing.

Nothing.

On my skin and in my hair I detected more than one female aroma, though the memory of all that was a blurred recollection. I pressed my hand to the glass window and held myself up, the urge to vomit still there.

In my stomach I felt empty and in my heart, there was less than an ounce of anything. My vision was skewed by rainbows of light that weren’t on the spectrum and I didn’t recognise the reflection that stared back at me in the tinted window.

The night before, a Friday, I’d partied hard. Nothing unusual.

I didn’t vomit because of the drink, but because I indulged on everything to excess.

Everything.

Everything that was bad. Everything I didn’t want, but had to have anyway.

I threw my sack of shit body into the shower and burned the entrails away, from my skin at least. From my exterior, just not the inside.

Inside, decay and desolation remained.

I walked out for some breakfast—some orange juice and oatmeal—and picked up my mail as I walked back into the building.

Back in my apartment upstairs, I noticed a parcel amongst the junk—and was surprised to find it contained a number of legal documents. I had only moved in a couple days ago but Jennifer’s people had seen to all the admin on the apartment, so what this was I didn’t know. I feared the contents, unsure what was going on. I didn’t know about this kind of stuff. Since moving to New York I’d never had to worry about anything monetary because Jennifer had always taken care of that for me.

I scanned through and noticed the lawyers on the letterhead weren’t the people Jennifer used. I deduced I had become the owner of some other property and was convinced there had been some error. I called them and said, “You sent me all this stuff but I think there’s been a mistake…”

There hadn’t.

This, was genuine?

I signed a couple of things and personally returned the papers to the lawyers’ office on Third Avenue, first thing Monday.

I asked ‘Turner, Ace and Patrick LLP’ who’d done this for me? They wouldn’t say; they couldn’t disclose a benefactor who’d asked to remain anonymous. All that they’d say was that he had an unusual look.

In exchange I got handed the keys to a potential enterprise that was all mine and though I was suspicious, I went to inspect it anyway.

I walked around the empty space and envisaged how the building had been used before. There were too many tall windows to count and some of those industrial tube lights in the ceiling. It was clearly meant to be used as gallery space but needed work. Doors hung off hinges, damp lurked in places, the floors were a mess and the brick needed repairing—in fact it needed knocking down and starting from scratch! The place didn’t just pose an aesthetic challenge, but a structural one too.

With plenty of wall space available, I should’ve just bought a couple cans of spray paint and made it my own, called it art—had the hoards come through and pay to see the inside of my shattered mind.

I frequently dreamed of bleak landscapes… burning effigies. Bloodied and battered faces and piles of rotting corpses. If I unleashed my mind, who knew what I might create? No doubt something akin to the inside of her mind, something controversial enough to warrant a craze.

No, no! I had to switch that impulse off. It would be a place to sell photographs, not a canvas for the paintings that refused to erase themselves from my burnt vision.

It would cost a bomb just to keep the building standing, so I needed to find work—and fast. As I absorbed my surroundings, she texted and asked if I liked the apartment, my birthday present from her. I thought about my reply for a long time before I finally replied: It suffices.

I thought my response cold, to the point, unquestionable. Succinct. Nothing for her to chew through and spit out.

Moving out of her place on Fifth Avenue had been a long time coming. I never brought women home—I kept all that at the clubs. However, she brought her lovers home with her; men, women, multiple partners. It caused too many arguments between us.

So this gift—the gallery—definitely wasn’t from her. She only ever gave to receive and never without motive. She wouldn’t hand over a gallery in secret, it wasn’t her style. She was all about the showy gestures, all about the control.

This gallery wasn’t her idea. Whose, though? I couldn’t be sure.

As I wandered my own floors and checked out my new patch, I saw a chance. Possibility. Somebody out there wanted me to succeed. Who? I didn’t know! Yet someone could see in me some sort of potential. I had to believe that.

During the days that followed I returned to the gallery again and again, drawing up plans of what I would do with the place if I had money. I didn’t tell Jennifer I was in possession of a gallery but she found out anyway. She knew everything. She had spies, everywhere. She scoffed, of course, warned she would decimate any attempt of mine to make good on such a venture. I didn’t let her snide comments get to me because I had a gallery and that meant someone, somewhere, thought well of me. From then on, I would be better. I would.

I poured my liquor supply down the sink, this simple act already distancing me from who I didn’t want to be. I flushed my pill packets, too. It was time. I didn’t like that stuff and now I had something to work toward, I couldn’t be doing that shit anymore.

What more could she do to hurt me, anyway? There was no mortgage to sabotage, no reputation to ruin. My gallery, like my work, was the pits. Yet it had room for growth and she couldn’t touch that, even though she hated it.

I just didn’t know what lay in store for me.

If only I knew then, what I know now…

**********************************

Read the first book in the series for 99 cents or 99 pence. Unfurl will be available, very, very soon!!

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Posted on by sarahmichellelynch

Contemporary romance #FREE to download – excerpt

angel avenue

**CLICK COVER TO DOWNLOAD FOR FREE!**

EXCERPT:

When I wake and realise it was a cruel dream, I ache inside. I find I am drooling on his chest and I retract my hold on him immediately. It’s early but I roll away and let myself out of bed. I look back on him and see he’s still fast asleep so I leave him there and head to the bathroom, where I look in the mirror and see my cheeks are crimson.

I douse my face in cold water but nothing is helping to rid myself of this heat all over my body. Instead, I walk to the kitchen and down a tumbler full of cold water. I still feel as hot as hell. When I walk by the bed and see his chest uncovered by the duvet, I stare at what is before me. Yes, I admit, he’s a man I want and I want him more than anything else in the entire world. He makes me feel safer than I have ever felt before in my entire life.

Phew. Getting that out there with myself is a relief.

When he rolls over and pulls the blanket up around himself, I watch the expressions he makes in his sleep. His nose twitches and he grunts. A smile falls across my lips and I don’t feel too bad then. It’s just the same old Warrick, growling and snoring. One of my secret behaviours these days is to smell his pillow when he’s not here.

I sit at my desk and do the only thing that will occupy my mind ‒ marking. I congratulate myself that if I do it now, I shall have the rest of the day to relax.

When I get bored after the first batch are done, I get up and head to the kitchen to brew a pot of tea. I fill two cups and put one by his bedside.

He hears the stamp of the mug and his eyes twitch open.

“Tea for you.”

I turn and sit at my desk and place my own cup down. I try to keep working but the mirror of my desk/dressing table is reflecting his image. He sits up and stares.

“What’s wrong?”

“Just marking. Is that a crime?”

“You seem odd.”

“All normal then.”

I hear him take a big sip and he puts the cup back down and rolls over to stretch, but the duvet shifts with him. In the mirror I see the whole length of the back of his body, on show.

He’s tight. No hair where there shouldn’t be any. Muscles in his shoulders and arse, thighs and arms. I am falling for him and his body is an added bonus. Christ! If only I can get my act together and stop being a cock tease.

Next thing I know, he leaps up to dash to the loo and I watch his body as he walks. My eyes peel wide open.

He returns and openly sups from his mug, standing there in only his boxers still. I fight every impulse to look and I end up just randomly ticking every page of the books I am marking!

“I have a thing today.”

“What thing?”

“My voluntary work. You know, the thing I dragged you to that time.”

“Ah, rule me out then.”

“I promised Joe I would drop in for Sunday lunch too. I do that about once a month.”

“Fine.”

I don’t know why he’s fishing for my approval. He pulls on his jeans and a vest he must have been wearing beneath the mustard jumper yesterday.

“I’ll just go then?” he huffs.

I turn in my chair to face him, and bite my pen.

“What’s wrong?”

He shakes his wild hair out and his eyes look manic.

“Guess I just feel a bit like I am getting the brush-off here.”

“Look, I woke early. I often do if I have had an early night.”

He hops on his feet and I stare him out, refusing to get as irate as him.

“Stay. Make yourself breakfast. Watch telly. This is just my life, you know. I mark all the time.”

He sits on the edge of the bed and drinks the rest of the tea.

“Have you had breakfast yet?”

“No,” I murmur, making random ticks still.

“What do you want then?”

“There’s eggs. I like mine poached.”

“More tea?”

“Yep.” I hand him my now empty mug.

He calls me for breakfast soon later and we eat at the tiny table, which he has laid properly and garnished with a flower from my bouquet of carnations in the kitchen.

I seat myself, though still in my nightdress and robe. I chomp through the food in my usual fashion and I see him watching me. He wants to know whether he outdid my day with Laurie.

I am not going to tell him that he most certainly did, nor in being here for breakfast and doing it all himself, he’s winning by miles.

“I have a favour to ask.”

“Yeah?” he cheers.

“We go on a half-term dash to Bruges every autumn, me and the girls. Betsy and Ruby. They’ve pulled out this year because, well, they hate me now I have implemented all the changes that Dickhead Jack imposed on us.”

“That’s sad,” he remarks.

“Ah, it doesn’t matter. I don’t work there to be liked. Look, anyway, I booked mine and can’t get a refund. My cabin was booked, you know, ages ago. It was a two for one thing, so if you want to come, you’ll go free but it’ll be with me, in a tiny cabin, for two whole nights. Otherwise I will be going alone. I mean, I don’t mind,” I swing my fork around, looking anywhere, “but I thought, well, you seem stressed from work and it would be free… for you. Seems a waste.”

“When?”

“Friday next week? Sails late afternoon.”

He chomps down on some egg and toast and consults with his memory.

“I will have to do some begging but I don’t see why not. Just means I might have to work overtime in the evenings next week.”

“Oh, don’t put yourself out. It’s not essential.”

I toss off my disappointment.

“I’ll come,” he smiles.

“You will?”

“Course,” he replies.

He stands and collects the plates. I hear him washing up while I finish my marking.

When he comes back into the bedroom, he’s dressed and ready to leave. A hand drops on my shoulder and he kisses my cheek.

“I’ll text.”

I grab his hand and halt him, “Thank you, for yesterday.”

I know I am blushing. I hate myself.

He smiles and the next thing I know, he’s out of the door and then the building. I miss him already. I’m falling heart-screamingly in love with him. That dream is going to be the undoing of me!

Posted on by sarahmichellelynch

UNBIND CHAPTER 40 ‒ INSIGHT INTO CAI’S MIND

Guys and gals,

I am currently writing UNFURL, the sequel to UNBIND. #NaNoWriMo has so far helped me add 30,000 words to this WIP.

The following extract does NOT appear in UNBIND, neither will it appear in UNFURL. This is extra material, for those of you wondering about the content of UNFURL…

UNFURL is a dual POV novel that will take Chloe and Cai right up until present day. The tagline is “NO SECRET DIES”.

UNFURL will answer a ton of questions but also take Cai and Chloe’s relationship to another level… so here is a tiny, little *unedited* insight into the mind of CAI MATTHEWS…

***

I felt torn between maintaining composure and doing what she was trying to do earlier—rip the punch bag from the ceiling and then kick the stuffing from it until there was nothing left.

I wanted to smash something. Hard. Chloe didn’t know but I was an undefeated champion on the underground boxing circuit in New York. She didn’t know that all the stuff she was telling me—she used to compete and then gave up—made her more like me than even I could have guessed. I was stock still on my gallery floor just because I was terrified if I moved, I’d start punching and I wouldn’t be able to stop.

She’d just told me the horrific circumstances surrounding that scar on her head. Worse—she’d told me about the one man in the world who was meant to protect her no matter what—and he hadn’t.

“I have this memory,” she said pointing to her skull. “I can remember all the names and faces of people I’ve ever met. I remember when I fell from a rope swing into a stream when I was little, I was wearing some cheap high-top trainers I loved. They were ruined by the mud. I remember what top I wore to a school disco when I was 13, a thing I spent hours picking out. I remember the day Kay got her first tattoo,” she smiled such a sad smile it made me swell with love for her, “I remember how long she spent making sure the design was right, how faint she looked when the dude doing her ink brought the needle toward her skin. I remember the ringlets in Amanda’s hair and how innocent they were and I remember every, single moment of pure evil he ever wrought on us. You see I can’t forgive, Cai, not when I can’t forget.”

I shut my eyes, the red fury replaced by incensed, overprotective love. “I wish you’d told me all this sooner, tigress. I wish you had.”

“Why?”

“Because I’ve spanked you and hit you. I didn’t know, Chlo.” I finally allowed myself to react and slammed my fist against the floor, the urge to keep hitting something there… but quelled by her resounding presence.

“Yes, you’ve spanked me lots of times and I never said stop because I like it that we’re open enough to do that. It’s not the same, Cai. It’s just not… you’re not spanking me to hurt me, you’re doing it because you’re expressing our bond, our passion… I love it when you spank me. I love you.”

I wanted to rip her father’s insides out, then my own. “Look… the truth is… I don’t like spanking, Chloe. I don’t fucking like it. I just do it because I think you want it.”

I didn’t like it. I didn’t. Yet I wanted it. Wanted it like I wanted to fight. Hated that aspect of myself, couldn’t caution myself enough about the danger of letting myself loose, yet all the ways she made me feel unleashed me. Set me free. Made me who I really was. It was just that, he was a man I didn’t like, wasn’t yet happy to be. I didn’t want to be ME.

“I do want it, but only if you want it too,” she said passionately, like she thought she was saying the right thing. She was saying what she thought I wanted to hear but it wasn’t her fault she didn’t know the whole of me—I’d tried to keep the dark away from her shining light.

I felt manic, shaking my head side to side. “I want to please you, I always said that. I want to give you everything you need.”

“I only want you to make love to me, how ever you need to make love to me. I don’t care how… I love you. I just need you holding me. I don’t care about the rest, Cai! I don’t care!”

She was yelling, trying to make me listen. I was listening. It was just she didn’t know… she needed to know… but she didn’t know about the real me.

The demons danced constantly on both my shoulders.

I had to divert this away from me, so I stood and started pacing the room rapidly. “You’ll fight everyday now, Chlo. I’m not having you hide who you really are anymore. You’ll fight me and I’ll teach you some better tricks than the ones you learned. I’ll teach you and protect you. I don’t care if you hurt me, you can hurt me because I can take it. Chlo, you have to be who you are, do you hear me? You don’t know how much I need that from you? Please… say you’ll fight again, for me? Please baby.”

Her soft, plump body captured mine from behind and pressed against my back to give me shelter. “I’ll do it for you, if you ask it of me.”

I turned and put my hands on her warm cheeks, asking, “Fight for me.”

“I’ll do it.”

She let the demons keep dancing by not asking any more, but I didn’t mind, I’d rather they danced on both my shoulders than touch a patch of hers. “Good. You’ll still keep your figure. I want breasts and my big ass, still.”

“Okay,” she said, and then to quell the conversation, I took her upstairs.

I had something to prove to myself, not just to her. I had to give over control. I could do it. I could be different, I could break the cycle. I removed my clothes and told Chloe, “Tie me up. Do whatever you want to do to me. I need this. Now, do it. Damn it. Tie me up, tigress and use me. I’m yours to use, baby.”

She proceeded to bind me and dominate me. I was hard for the touch and scent of her before she even began kissing my body, inch by inch. I begged for her soft layers to take me home and it was a temporary reprieve from the raging war inside my mind.

The man I wanted to be and the man I was didn’t much like one another.

BUY UNBIND ON AMAZON…

**IMPORTANT NOTE** UNBIND does not have a cliffhanger. It was originally intended to be a standalone. Readers said they wanted more answers, so….

99 cents

Posted on by sarahmichellelynch

Excerpt and freebie….! Scifi romance for your kindle

the informantDownload your copy for free now! Visit http://mybook.to/theinformant

Read this excerpt:

I was both the Principal and me, needing to suffuse the two to become something more powerful than I had ever been before. I saw the images of all I loved and ran at the group, holding a hand out for Mara to stay where she was. As I neared the pack, I reached down for the instrument hidden within my knee-high boot. It swished and gleamed against the twinkling skies overheard. I heard the emissaries take a quick intake of breath and licked my lips at the sight of their fear.

My eyes widened and I concluded they knew their time was up.

While we engaged in battle, it was clear they wanted me captured, not killed. Oh can you imagine if they brainwashed an asset like me for their team? So while they struggled to get a hold on me, I hit them systematically, making them all dizzy with my blows.

I couldn’t attempt a single kill until I had them all weak.

I started by injuring them all, making them woozy as they lost profuse amounts of blood from their arms or legs. My weapon was sharpened enough to cut through anything but diamond. The smell of their chemically enhanced blood turned my stomach and I was pretty unflinching usually.

Sure they were done for, I began.

Their throats.

While they stumbled around and tried to keep up with me, I took them one by one, flying through the air, using their bodies as a podium to execute my attack, ending their lives with swift and rapid strokes.

I surveyed the carnage afterward and flicked the weapon to remove all the blood. I had just killed five of the Alpha Pack, the most brutal of all Officium’s emissaries.

No other could do what I could. Well, perhaps one once could have done, but he was yet to rejuvenate.

My heart pounded in my chest and I felt the adrenalin race around my brain so fast I could barely see clearly anymore. Mara snapped me out of the trance, shouting, ‘The door is open. Come on!’

Miraculously, the Rascal had bypassed all levels of security. I ran across the walkway back to my lover and we entered a corridor that led to the control room. Mara slammed the door behind us, while I replaced my deadly weapon.