Title:
Untouchable, Book #2 of the Elite Doms of Washington series
Authors name/Pen name:
Elizabeth SaFleur
Genre: Contemporary steamy
romance (BDSM elements)
Release Date: Untouchable: April 3,
available for pre-order at discount of $2.99
(July
3 release date)
Blurb:
Untouchable
Wealthy, Washington DC attorney, Carson
Drake, is fascinated by public relations princess, London Chantelle. But hidden
secrets and workplace conspiracy could crush this alpha male's special weekend
and his only chance at real love.
With fiery exchanges in the workplace,
public relations princess, London Chantelle, intrigues and provokes the
alpha male in wealthy attorney Carson Drake. He'd like to bend her over his
knees--among other things. Outside the office, an unexpected meeting at a local
BDSM club suggests she is the ideal candidate for a weekend of sensual
submissive pleasure. Mistrustful yet fascinated, London agrees to his proposal.
Finally, she can satisfy her unwanted, darker longings. Their passionate weekend
stuns them both and London wants more of Carson Drake and his firm handling.
But the assumptions each hold about love threaten their budding
relationship—even more than a blackmailing co-worker and London’s long-buried
secrets.
Buy Links:
Untouchable Pre-Order: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00V8CZ3KG
Lovely available here:
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00P3CHMQ0
Authors Bio:
Elizabeth SaFleur is an
erotic romance author and recovering public relations practitioner who writes,
tweets and posts under a pseudonym since her former business clients might be
shocked at her new career choice. She wrote the
Elite Doms of Washington contemporary erotic romance series after a thirty-year
career serving D.C. clients. Today Elizabeth shares twenty-eight,
wildlife-filled acres in Virginia with her husband and dog. Elizabeth is a
member of the Romance Writers Association and the Washington Romance Writers.
Her first novelette, Holiday Ties, has been nominated for a BDSM Writers Con
Golden Flogger Award.
Author’s
Links:
Twitter: https://twitter.com/ElizaLoveStory
(@ElizaLoveStory)
Website: http://www.elizabethsafleur.com/
Google+
profile: google.com/+ElizabethSaFleur
Carson herded London toward the private
rooms. She stopped short when they reached a gothic-arched doorway.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
“Someplace more quiet.”
“What if I don’t want to?”
“Then you don’t have to.” He dropped his
hold on her waist.
“Just talking?”
“Yes. Witnesses saw us leave. You’re safe.”
She let Carson pull her through the massive
door, held open by a bodyguard. He moved them down an expansive hallway. Only
after ushering her inside the last door at the end did he let go of her elbow.
She immediately crossed her arms.
“It’s okay, sugar. I’m not going to hurt
you.”
“I’m meeting someone.”
“Oh?”
“Yes, so I can’t stay long.” She worked her
bottom lip and shuffled her weight from foot to foot. Her eyes also darted to
the bed in the corner. Perhaps she thought he’d take her right away? She knew
his identity. She should know he was committed to due diligence. And he had to
know why she was here—the last place on earth he’d expect London Chantelle.
He sat in one of two cushioned chairs set
before a lit fireplace. He appreciated her luscious curves, beautifully
illuminated by the amber glow of the low fire.
“Sit.” He beckoned her to join him.
“I like standing.”
“Sit.” The commanding tones of a Dom
brought the expected result. As she lowered herself into the chair, her
ponytail licked one shoulder. “Your hair is beautiful in this light,” he said.
“More golden brown than I noticed before.”
She swallowed. “Thank you, um
. . . I go by Tatiana.”
“It doesn’t suit you. Why not go with, say
. . . London?”
Her mouth dropped to an “O” in alarm, and
she leapt from her seat.
“Sit. Down.” He pointed to the chair.
“Please.” Her hazel eyes implored lenience,
and her tone of voice surprised him. He liked the beseeching quality. It was
quite a departure from her customary unadulterated demand.
“Please what? You thought a simple mask and
change of clothing meant I wouldn’t recognize you?”
“I hoped . . . maybe
. . . I can’t do this.”
Before she could complete two steps, he’d
risen from his chair and laid his hand on her shoulder. She stopped. He pressed
his torso against her back, sending her firm ass into his crotch. He decided to
like her stiletto boots. He was a tall man and they made her the perfect
height. He waited to see if she’d object, at which point he’d back off. She
didn’t move.
Carson pulled off the elastic holding her
hair captive. A curtain of gold-laced chestnut silk cascaded free. He brushed
her mane to one side and bared her shoulder. “That’s better.”
Her breathing sped up. “You said just
talking.”
“Still, sweetness.” He inhaled her scent of
Ivory soap and cinnamon Christmas cookies before stepping backward. “We are
talking.”
She twisted to face him. “Carson, please
. . .”
He liked how her emotions turned in an
instant. She’d test his abilities to direct her psychology in a scene. He
nearly laughed at himself. How quickly I
have her bound and pleasured in my mind. “There. Now that’s a start. I
rather like you begging me.”
“I don’t beg.”
And there goes that chin. “We’ll see.” He took another step back. His instincts
told him she wouldn’t bolt.
“Take a seat, London.” Carson returned to
his chair. “When you do, hands in your lap. After you listen to me you can
decide if you wish to leave. It will be your choice.”
London hesitated, then nestled her behind
onto the chair opposite him. She placed her hands in her lap. The thumb of one
hand worked the palm of the other.
“Take off your mask. Show me your pretty
face.”
London took a deep breath as her elegant
fingers slipped off her disguise, pulling the fastening ribbon through her
perfect hair. He wanted to capture her cheeks in his hands. He’d rub off the
mask indents and erase the worry imprinted on her forehead.
“How long have you been without a master?”
he asked.
“I-I’m not . . .” Her jawline
hardened. “It’s none of your business.”
“That’s a shame. I’m good at business.” His
mouth broke into a smile at the thought of bending her over her desk, papers
sticking to her bared breasts, pens falling to the floor. He’d smack her ass
with that leather portfolio she carried around like a shield. He wouldn’t stop
until her engraved initials imprinted her skin.
“Why did you bring me here?” she whispered.
“You’re looking for a Dom. I’m a Dom
looking for a sub.”
She flinched at his final word. “What do
you want, Carson?”
What I want. Did it matter? He’d given up what he wanted long ago—a spirited submissive who
matched his desires. Someone who might actually stick with him and not drop him
the minute a better offer came through. He didn’t allow himself to think
finding such a woman was possible anymore.
“Time. Willingness. Pleasure.” Carson
folded his hands and laid his chin on his knuckles. “Now, I want to know what
you want.”
“No, you don’t.”
Carson raised an eyebrow. “Toying with me
will not get you anywhere, sweetness.”
“Isn’t that what you are doing with me?”
“Hardly.” Carson let silence take over the
space.
“Then what?” she whispered after long
minutes.
“Patience will be your first lesson
tonight. Then I’ll consider you.”
“Consider me?” She gave him a
hardened, fuck-off look.
“Yes. Last time. What do you want?”
He let a few seconds tick by. Then he
stood. “If you won’t tell me why you’re here, what you seek, then I can’t
help.”
“I-I didn’t mean . . . it isn’t
easy . . .”
“You must answer my questions when I ask
them. No delay. It’s for your safety and mine.”
Her lips pursed, her signal she realized
she was losing. Her sassiness had its usual alluring appeal—futile, but
adorable. She licked her bottom lip, the subtle move urging him forward.
“Stand,” he said.
She stood cautiously.
“What is your safeword?” he asked.
“Excuse me? A-a scene. With you? You’re a
client. If anything ever got back—”
“Then we would both lose. And I don’t
lose.”
“No, You take what you want and damn the
consequences.”
“London.” Carson walked toward her and she
backed around the chair. “What are you afraid of? Afraid you might get what you
want? Experience what you’ve longed for?”
She let out a huff, but continued to
retreat as Carson advanced. He sent her in a backward circle until she closed
in on the canopied bed. Yes, most definitely submissive. The urge to discover
how deep her desires ran raged through him like a brushfire.
“How would you know what I long for?” Her
haughty chin jutted out.
“I want to know, London. Tell me.”
“Why?” She’d backed up until she connected
with the bedpost.
“Fair question. And one I’ll answer. Given
you and I dance well together at the boardroom table, why wouldn’t we here? Had
I known your proclivities I might have offered. Why didn’t you come to me
before?” How had he missed her signs?
“B-but you hate me.”
Now he was puzzled. “No, I don’t.
You sometimes . . . irritate, but I could never hate you. Surely you
noticed my tendencies.”
“Being a bully in a boardroom does not make
you a Dominant I’d be interested in.”
“Ouch, London. That hurt.” Carson slapped
his chest above his heart but kept his face stony.
“I didn’t think you could feel pain.”
“Everyone feels pain.” Her lips parted when
he closed the last inch of distance between them. His thighs touched hers, and
he softened his voice. “It pleases me you’re here. There’s no use in fighting
this chemistry.” Carson hooked a thumb on his waistband. “One weekend.”
“With you?”
“Yes.”
“What will you do with your harem?”
He unbuckled his belt. “Your second lesson.
Don’t force discipline with a smart mouth.”
“I don’t have that kind of time.” She
raised her impertinent jawline—again.
Lesson three: discipline your haughty chin.
“Not enough time to learn discipline or not
enough time, in general?” The loud rasp of leather yanked through his belt
loops sent her attention to his torso.
“What are you doing?” Her panicked gaze
shot to his face.
“I don’t have a collar on me.”
“I am wholly disinterested in being
collared.”
“One weekend, London.” He grasped one of
her hips with his free hand. “If you’re disappointed at any time, you can walk.
I’ll never speak of it again. Our work together will go unaffected. No one—and
I mean no one—but us will know.”
“Would you put that in writing?” Her eyes
filled with mischief.
Priceless.
London lured him toward a lightning storm. He could play. Hell, nothing
appealed in the moment more than a weekend playing with London. Yes, this is
what he wanted. Now he needed to know if she was willing.
“I’ll do one better.” He snaked the belt
around her waist until the leather rested against her hips.
“I’m not a notch on a belt.”
“You could never be a notch, London
Chantelle. You’re the whole belt, sugar.”
Her face softened, and the playfulness in
her eyes died. He recognized the deliberation behind them, the wonder if she’d
be safe, here and at work. London needn’t have worried. She might get scared,
but mutual satisfaction was the only way his brand of sexual fulfillment
worked.
“Say yes or no.” He pressed his torso to
her corseted body, the last space between her body and his obliterated. “But
say yes.”
“What will happen if I say yes?”
Her eyes misted with a surprising
vulnerability. “Yes.”
Giveaway:
Elizabeth
is giving away a HUGE amount of goodies! 12 winners will have their chance to
win these amazing prizes!
--$50
Victoria’s Secret gift card
--Five
e-copies of Lovely, Book #1 of the Elite Doms series, contemporary erotic
fiction
--One
purple, Lelo-brand silk blindfold
--Four Trapp
Fragrances votive candles in sexy cinnamon scent
--One Trapp Fragrances
sexy cinnamon-scented room freshener
