A project, Reign of Pleasure (Coming December 19th from Cobblestone Press) I completed a couple months ago turned from 1 book into 3. How? Why? Huh? Yeah. I'm there with you. It started off simple enough until the villian (Yes, the villian) took over.
Le sigh. She was in one scene, then another, then another until I knew she definitely needed her own story told. And no she's not misunderstood, she's evil. I guess we can say she knows her talents and she uses them to the best of her ability.
How can she be the heroine when *gasp* she's EVIL?
Don't heroes/heroines have
to be redeemable?
And she is...in her own way
. She's had a hard life, loses the love of her life (or who she thinks is the love of her life) so of course that's just going to make her even more willing to embrace her inner bitch.
Of course her hero can't be some let's talk about our feelings type of guy. He has to be able to handle her and more...
So is it possible to have a evilly ever after instead of an happily ever after without totally wussing out and turning good at the end? Does it depend on the author and how she (or he) executes it?
Reign of Pleasure will be available on the 19th, so you'll be able to decide for yourselves. In the mean time here's a little tiny excerpt. Nope, it doesn't have our evil Eve but it does have ROP's hero, Lord Sebastian Ignius and heroine, the deposed Queen. THIS IS AN ADULT ONLY EXCERPT! YOU MUST BE 18 or OLDER TO READ THIS EXCERPT!
Reign of Pleasure
Excerpt from Chapter Three
“You will never be my king.” It wasn’t what I’d meant to say. In my mind, I had a long speech about how treachery and machinations never got their patrons anywhere.
His pupils expanded until they blotted out the color of his irises and made his eyes appear black. I didn’t know if the change in his eyes were an indication of emotion but as soon as I had said the words, I wished I could call them back.
“Wh—what I meant was—” I didn’t get a chance to finish my sentence. He moved quicker than the viper I likened Eve to earlier and snatched me from my seat.
Off balance, I collapsed against his chest, our faces less than an inch apart.
“You are so fond of using that mouth of yours. Maybe I should show you a better use for it.” His breath feathered against my lips, and I trembled. I told myself it was out of fear and not because his hard, biting grip didn’t hurt the way it should.
Instead, it sent fissions of heat to rest directly in my cunt. Hotter and stronger, with a nonsexual touch, than the sensations Eve provoked with her tongue buried in my cunt.
Swallowing hard, I waited for him to free himself from his pants. Would I fight him if he expected me to pleasure him with my mouth the way Eve had done me? I’d never had a man in my mouth. My eyes dropped to the bulge between his thighs.
It was impressive, and he wasn’t even aroused. Would I be able to even fit him in my mouth?
“Please,” I said, even though I knew being polite wouldn’t get me any mercy from this merciless man.
“You will respect me. You will remember, during the time you are with me, you are mine. To use any way I see fit.” He punctuated each sentence with a light shake.
“And just so you don’t forget, you are to call me Sire.”
I nodded automatically, cowed in the face of his unyielding tone.
He flattened a hand against the middle of my back and pushed me down.
Oh, God. He is really going to make me do this.
What if I disappointed him? I didn’t know what to do. I was so caught up in my own thoughts that it took me a moment to realize he wasn’t pushing my head toward his groin. He was pushing it to rest against the heated, leather seat so he could swing my body up until I was draped bottom-up over his lap.
I held my body stiff as he pushed my dress up. Cool air kissed the skin of my buttocks as he bunched my skirts around my waist.
I concentrated on keeping my breathing even as my heart pounded. It wasn’t fear that spiked through me. Well, it was, but more fear of the unknown, of what he planned to do to me.
I flinched as his large, calloused hand cupped one of my cheeks, massaging it before doing the same to the other. He rubbed his hand over both of them, and the combination of the heat radiating off his body and the gentleness of his touch lulled me. My head drooped against the seat, and I allowed my body to relax against his.
When the first blow fell, it was so unexpected my mind took a minute to process what happened. By the time I identified the sound of his palm hitting my skin and the resulting sting in my buttocks, his hand had fallen a second time.
“For the next seventy-two hours, whose pussy is this?” I guess I didn’t answer quickly enough, because he brought his hand down again, harder than the last time.
My head lifted, and I thought of scrambling off his lap, but before I could act, he pressed his other hand into the flat of my back to hold me down. Over and over his hand fell, heating the flesh of my buttocks and pooling a curious heat between my thighs.
I was confused. Hitting should not feel good. Should not make me want to grind into the erection I could feel growing and stabbing into my belly. My sex shouldn’t be tingling, dampening, and throbbing in time with the blows to my ass.
Biting my lip, I lost count of how many times he brought his hand down. I concentrated on keeping my body still and not giving voice to the bewildering pleasure he gave me.
I tried to fight it. Tried to remind myself, deposed or not, a queen did not enjoy being spanked like a mischievous child. But my bloodline or title mattered not one bit to my disloyal flesh.
“Spread your legs.”
Eyes clenched shut, I obeyed the command before I realized he had stopped smacking my ass and was immediately ashamed how easy I capitulated.
Labels: Emma Petersen