Title: Auctioned to Protect
Author: Doris O'Connor
Genre: Erotica, Contemporary, BDSM
When characters take over by
Doris O'Connor
When I wrote the first book
in this series, I had no intention of turning this into a series, believe it or
not. You see, I'm a panster. My muse will throw an idea at me and I simply run
with it, and write what the characters tell me to. And in this case, from the
minute Mistress Scarlett entered the scene I knew she had a story. I didn't
know what that was until this happened:
“I would suggest you take
your new sub home, Master Slade, she looks exhausted. You can leave big bro
here to me. I’m sure I can find something for him to do to work off that
aggression in far more pleasurable ways—for me anyway.”
She smirked and stepped right
into Michael’s personal space. He took several steps back until his back hit the
wall. With her high heels, the top of her head fit just under his nose, yet
Michael swallowed hard several times, his eyes fixated on the Domme’s bright
red lips. She tapped his nose with one perfectly manicured fingernail and then
ran that nail down over his lips and across his clavicle, before she stepped
back and cupped his groin with a considering look.
“What do you reckon, big boy?
Up to playing with the big girls, or are you too chicken?”
Michael turned all sorts of
interesting shades of green and Scarlett laughed.
“Guess you are. If you change
your mind, you know where to find me.” She winked at Laura, and Slade felt her
silent chuckles under his arm. Her brother’s gaze was too focused on Scarlett’s
swaying behind as the Domme sashayed out of the room with much more swagger
than she usually showed. Slade grinned to himself. Trust Scarlett to put up a
show.
“Fuck, is she for real?”
Michael asked when the heavy door had swung shut, blocking the view of
Scarlett’s departure.
Just like that, there was my
story and the series was born. I never thought I'd write a Femdom story, but
Scarlett is such a great character, she needed to be written. Mike, too, is a
complicated man, and their relationship dynamic is very unique.
It was such fun to bring the
tough undercover cop to his knees, emotionally and physically. Mike does not
submit easily or gracefully, and he only does so to Scarlett.
These two need each other
and together they heat up the pages and go on an intensely emotional journey
that made me cry buckets when I was writing it.
So, have a glass of water, a
fan and a box of tissues at the ready when you read their story. You might just
need all three. J
Long Blurb:
Tough
undercover cop Mike Anderson does not submit to anyone, let alone a pint sized
bundle of curves with a Mistress Complex, who stands for everything he despises
about BDSM.
Thrown into
a world where the rules make no sense to him, he has to rely on his instincts,
and they all scream one thing—submit to His Lady.
Scarlett
Simpson is one of the most feared Mistresses at Club Spectrum and she has a
score to settle. Mike's atrocious behavior needs addressing. If only she wasn't
so attracted to the big hunk of a man, and he didn't prove so utterly
responsive. As she explores his boundaries through Shibari and Knife Play,
Scarlett can't help but get emotionally involved.
Submission
freely given is a gift she treasures, but can she trust Mike to stay around
once the case is over? When danger comes knocking, will Mike be able to protect
her, or will this end in tragedy?
Mike’s
heart crashed against his chest bone, and his whole body tensed as adrenaline
flooded his system at the sight of that knife.
“I
warn you now. You come near me with that fucking knife and woman or not, I’ll
take you out. This isn’t funny.”
He
kept his gaze trained on that wicked-looking blade, and breathed a sigh of
relief when Scarlett put it down on the massage table. She cocked her head to
one side and regarded him steadily with an extremely unsettling small smile on
her full lips.
Now
what was the blasted woman up to?
“I
mean it, there’s no way you’re getting near me with that thing. Knives are not
for playing stupid games.”
“I
agree, and I take knife play very seriously. It’s also the most effective way
to test your trust in me.”
“You’re
fucking losing the plot, here.”
Scarlett
laughed, and drew herself up to every inch of her five-foot-nothing frame. She
fixed him with that look again, and
stood to one side.
“No,
I’m not losing the plot here, you are. Look at yourself. Not so brave now, are
we?”
“What
has you getting some kick out of cutting me with a fucking knife got to do with
bravery? Been there, done that, got the fucking T-shirt and the scars to prove
it, so—”
“Show
me,” Scarlett interrupted him and he stopped dead, and scowled at her.
Damn
infuriating woman. He lifted his left arm, and she stepped closer to inspect
the fine line left behind. That blade had punctured his lung and put him out of
action for a while. He sucked in a breath when she followed that line and used
just enough force for her long fingernails to score his skin.
“Anywhere
else?” she asked.
Their
gazes locked as she continued to run her hands over his naked skin, and he had
to clear his throat to get the words out.
“My
back.”
She
stepped away and around the table and then her soft little hands were back,
tracing a line down his spine this time, until she found the mark just
underneath his kidneys. He grimaced at her sharp intake of breath, and then
closed his eyes when something soft and supple touched his scars there. Had she
kissed him? Sure enough when he risked a look over his shoulder she was in the
process of straightening up, her expression unreadable.
Their
eyes met again and she smiled at him.
“I
can see why this would freak you out, but I never break the skin—never. In the right hands a knife can
bring the ultimate erotic pleasure. I’ll show you, if you let me.”
It
was on the tip of his tongue to blurt out a very emphatic no, but something in
the quiet way she studied him stopped him.
“You
mean I get a choice?”
This
time he could read her expression all too well. Irritation radiated off her in
almost palpable waves, and he knew he’d goofed up again.
“Forget
I said that. I know it’s my choice. Laura screeched that at me often enough.
How it’s her choice to do all this,
and to jump at Slade’s bidding.” He couldn’t keep the bitterness out of his
voice, and Scarlett narrowed her eyes and shook her head.
“And
yet you clearly didn’t hear her, did you? What you describe is not the way this
works. Laura and Slade’s relationship is far more complicated than that. Your
sister is a strong, independent woman, and her submission to her Master is
entirely her choice. Submission is a gift any Dominant treasures, and it’s a
responsibility none of us take lightly.”
“So
you say,” Mike grumbled under his breath.
Scarlett
went very still and when she finally looked at him, her previously warm green
eyes were icicles of steel.
“Then
there is really nothing else to say, and I’ll escort you off the premises.”
“Oh
no you won’t. I have a job to do here.”
“Then
fucking do it, and open your closed-off mind to the possibilities. There is no
place for you here otherwise, and Laura will have lost a brother as well as her
parents.”
Her
voice could have cut steel, and the ice-cold disdain with which she still
regarded him cut through his protective layers of indifference as though she
had cut him with that damn knife.
“Keep
my fucking sister out of it. I’m here to protect you on order of the commissioner
himself, and I’m not moving until I get the bad guy.”
Scarlett
moved so fast he never saw it coming. One minute she was stood glaring at him,
the next she had her whip in her hand and the end of the damn thing missed his
head by inches. Only he got the distinct impression that she didn’t miss him at
all. Every crack of the whip rung in his ears, and the air whooshed past his
face, yet she never touched him. Mike didn’t dare move, too caught up in
watching Scarlett swing that whip with such deadly precision.
When
she finally stopped, a fine sheen of perspiration marked her skin and she let
out a slow exhale.
“Does
that look as though I need protecting?” she asked.
Glutton for punishment would be a good description
for Doris... at least that's what she hears on an almost daily basis when
people find out that she has a brood of nine children, ranging from adult to
toddler and lives happily in a far too small house, cluttered with children,
pets, dust bunnies, and one very understanding and supportive husband. Domestic
goddess she is not.
There is always something better to do after all,
like working on the latest manuscript and trying not to scare the locals even
more than usual by talking out loud to the voices in her head. Her characters
tend to be pretty insistent to get their stories told, and you will find Doris
burning the midnight oil on a regular basis. Only time to get any peace and
quiet and besides, sleep is for wimps.
She likes to spin sensual, sassy, and sexy tales
involving alpha heroes to die for, and heroines who give as good as they get.
From contemporary to paranormal, BDSM to F/F, and Ménage, haunting love stories
are guaranteed.
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