The official release day for SLOW SATISFACTION is coming on August 26th! This book is the big finale of the Struck by Lightning trilogy. To whet your appetites, there’s a sample chapter below! Plus handy links to where you can order it online or find a local independent bookseller with it on hand! The paperback started shipping out last week so look for it in the wild, and I should have copies at Authors After Dark!
Slow Satisfaction (#3 in the Struck by Lightning trilogy)
ISBN 9781455529285 • $10 paperback/$4.99 ebook
The conclusion of the saga of Karina and James! James has finally pushed Karina beyond her limit–not her limit for kinky sex play, but for his extreme secrecy. She has had enough and breaks things off. But James won’t give up on Karina and he will do whatever it takes to get her back. He’s ready to share his deepest, darkest secrets, but is Karina ready to hear them? When James is blackmailed by an unscrupulous music industry executive, he must give in to unreasonable demands or risk exposure of his and Karina’s secret sex life… a sex life that keeps getting hotter! Will Karina and James’s love be strong enough to withstand the many obstacles being thrown their way? More info: Hachette (publisher)
Buy SLOW SATISFACTION: Apple iBookstore | Barnes & Noble | Google Play | Kobo | Indiebound
SAMPLE CHAPTER: (***Mild Spoiler Warning!*** This sample is from partway through the book.)
I was expecting to pull up to a high-rise building, or into a big parking garage, but no, the garage door that faced the curb was built into a brownstone. Maybe five or six stories tall, brick, with a wrought iron doorway, not all that different from a lot of the small apartment buildings in the city.
The door went up and we pulled into a single-car garage. A private garage was rare in New York City. Almost unheard of.
The entire building was a single mansion. Stefan did his chauffeur thing, opening my door and then leading me from the garage through a pantry and into a grand foyer. He gestured around. Before I could ask where James was, Stefan said, “This is the place. Not really much to see in this room, though.”
“Not much to see!” There were two sculptures in the room, one of which was clearly one of James’s glass works. The other I thought I recognized as the work of Rodin, a nude woman cast in bronze. “Is this really a Rodin?”
I heard James chuckle. He came down the staircase, barefoot, wearing chocolate-brown pants that looked too luxurious to be called pajamas, slung low on his hips, and nothing else. “It’s a bronze cast of one of his originals, yes. The model was a young woman named Camille.”
“Wasn’t she his apprentice?” It had been some years since I’d studied anything about Rodin.
“And companion,” James said, and something about the way he said that, or maybe it was the pantherine way he was padding across the floor toward me, brought that delicious sensation flooding back into my nether regions. Without taking his eyes off me, he said, “Stefan. We won’t be needing you for a few hours.”
“Yes, boss.” Stefan disappeared through the door we’d come through.
James reached me, took the bag from my shoulder, and set it on the floor. “The decision I’m trying to make is whether to take you right here, right now, and then play with you at my leisure once the edge of my hunger is off, or force myself to wait.”
I could feel the hardness of him against my stomach as he pulled me close. “If I know you, you’ll force us both to wait.”
His laugh was rich and low and he bent to kiss me while still chuckling. “Too true,” he breathed into my hair. “But you test my self-restraint like no one else ever has. So tell me, which would you choose, if you were given a choice?”
“Didn’t you say we should embrace ‘and’ instead of ‘or’?”
“I did. That would mean… taking you right here and forcing myself to wait?”
“Take me but let’s not come,” I whispered, as if Stefan might be listening. Ha. As if he hadn’t heard us doing every possible thing in the back seat of the limo already.
“Since you ask so nicely…” James said, and thumbed the waistband of his pants over his erection. They fell to his ankles in a velvety heap, and I fell upon his cock with my velvety tongue. I couldn’t help it. Gorgeous doesn’t even begin to describe it. And him standing there in that grand foyer? He was like a third work of art, each muscle over his ribs perfectly sculpted. I ran my fingers down his torso as I sucked him into my mouth, my fingertips skating down the plane of his abs to the creases of his thighs.
He sank his fingers into my hair with a groan, and held me loosely as I bobbed back and forth. Then his grip tightened and he drove deep, hard enough to bruise my lips and deep enough to make me cough once, and then pulled me abruptly free. Keeping his grip, he bent down to kiss my mouth tenderly, the contrast between his gentle lips and the brutal thrust of his cock making me gasp.
“Strip,” he whispered, and let go of me.
As I pulled my shirt over my head he lay back on the parquet wood floor, watching me with his hands folded behind his head.
I wasn’t wearing much, so it didn’t take long before I was standing naked before him.
He beckoned me with his crooked finger, then gestured, making it clear he wanted me to straddle his face. I put one foot on either side of his head and squatted down, rewarded instantly by the wet suede of his tongue licking up and down my seam. I was already meltingly wet—had been since the moment he’d come down the stairs, really—so this was more about pleasure than preparation.
He disengaged his mouth and slid a long finger inside me, looking up my torso, between my breasts, and into my eyes. “I feel like I want you more and more every time I have you. Like the more deeply I fall for you, the more intense the craving becomes.”
“I feel exactly the same way.”
“Then get on my cock, now.”
I shuffled backward, onto all fours above him, and reached back with one hand to guide the tip of him into me. Being able to have him without a condom had never felt more like decadence, more like luxury, than at that moment. I sank onto him about halfway down his shaft, then had to wriggle my hips to open myself up enough to take him.
Once I was fully seated he let out a long sigh. “I have all manner of elaborate plans to torture you,” he said. “Yet this—this basic, simple thing—is what I want most at this moment.”
“Just because the chef is going to prepare an elaborate dessert doesn’t mean he can’t taste the berry right from the basket,” I said.
(To read more, order SLOW SATISFACTION today!)
