Bayou Magiste Series

Hello readers,

Today I have a long but highly attention-grabbing post. If you’re looking for a new series to add to your list, I suggest you read through the information below. There is also a giveaway included so make sure you don’t miss a thing.


Title: Claimed by the Devil (Bayou Magiste #1)

Author: Gianna Simone

Genres: Erotic Romance, Paranormal Romance

Categories: Interracial/Multicultural

Erotic Elements: BDSM

Publisher: Sizzler Editions

Release Date: August 27, 2013

Heat Level: Sizzling

Word Count/Length: 115,000 words/300 pages


Claimed by the Devil Cover

Claimed by the Devil (Bayou Magiste Chronicles 1) Blurb:

Helene Gaudet finds the perfect Dom in an internet chat room. It’s as if he can read her mind – and he knows how to make her beg. When they agree to meet in the real world, Helene realizes why her Dom knows her so well – he is none other than Devlin Marchand, the same man who handed her over years ago to a dark sorcerer – to be killed.

She thought she was free from suffering – including a rageful ex-husband who cursed her, leaving her unable to bear children. She wants to forget the past – but her lust for Devlin is so intense after each tormenting, releasing encounter, she doesn’t want to leave him.

Devlin wants to repair his past wrongs – but guilt over his past betrayal is multiplied when he learns the curse that has dogged Helene for years comes from the trove of magic created by his very own family. Devlin fears the tentative relationship they’ve built will be destroyed – and he cannot allow that.

Can they overcome the past to have a future together?

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Devlin stared at his father.  The older man couldn’t be serious.

“Devlin, you must complete the task.”  Maximilian Marchand’s angry voice rang out in the room as he came out from behind the massive oak desk.  “This Saturday evening.  DeGarza has an event planned, and it is imperative Helene Gaudet be present.”

Devlin shook his head.  He couldn’t do it, couldn’t turn her over to DeGarza, the psychotic fool his father blindly followed.

“No, he’s wrong.  She’s not … he’s wasting his time.”

“And why is that, young Marchand?”

The voice behind him slid over Devlin like ice, chilling his soul.  His stomach churned.

“Sir, she’s not as powerful as you think; she’s merely a Creole, born of the Bayou.”

Would the lie work?  While not as strong or gifted as a Sorceress, Helene’s magical talents bordered on amazing.  An Enchantress possessing such robust powers, while not rare, did not go unnoticed.  The Tribunal who ruled the Magiste community kept a very close watch on all of its citizens and their level of magical skill.

“Yes, but her powers are quite strong for someone so young.”  DeGarza approached, his height imposing, his narrow face cold and hard.  “Her youth alone makes her magic so much more potent.  It’s a shame for it to be wasted on Swamp Sludge.”

DeGarza stopped right before Devlin.  Devlin forced himself not to react to the vile name the man used to describe Helene.  The effort to remain calm could possibly the most difficult thing Devlin had ever done since being forced to serve this madman.  But he couldn’t obey this order.  The idea of Helene at the mercy of a monster such as DeGarza sickened him, even more than his own fear of the Sorcerer.

“You want her, don’t you?  For yourself.”

The knowing look on the evil man’s face spurred a panic Devlin hadn’t felt in years.  He held his tongue.  Yes, he wanted Helene Gaudet, had wanted her ever since he’d seen her last year at the Mardi Gras ball, escorted by one of his classmates.  He wanted her to submit to him, wanted to play with her luscious body and make her scream his name with passion and pleasure.  He’d never told anyone.

“If I claimed her, sir, I could control her.  She would be bound to serve you.”

He prayed his promise would be enough to convince the insane, power-hungry, sorcerer to back off.

“And how would you do that?”

Devlin racked his brain, trying to recall more about the custom that popped into his head.  He’d never given it much thought before, but the idea took hold, and he could imagine her beside him here, in his home, in his bed.  He lifted his chin, determination renewed.  While rarely executed, the ritual was binding and legal.  She would be his.  And he could protect her.

“There’s the Possede Puissant.  She wouldn’t be able to refuse my orders once she belonged to me.  Her power would still be yours to control.”

DeGarza stroked his chin thoughtfully.  He focused his black, menacing stare on Devlin again.

“No.  I must own them, combine them with mine.  The only way to do it properly is to use the Remouvoir.  Bring her to me before Saturday.  You may go.”

Devlin thought his legs might collapse beneath him, the spark of hope all but extinguished.  Yet, a glimmer remained, his mind racing with ways to stop the unthinkable from happening.  He slowly turned to the door, but his father’s voice stopped him.

“Devlin, she is not worthy of you.  If Mr. DeGarza had been kind enough to grant your wish, I would have killed her myself.  Either way, you cannot save her.  Do not try to do so again.”

Devlin swallowed the acid rising in his throat and nodded.  How in the world could he surrender Helene to be killed?  He had to find some way out of this.

“Young Marchand.”  DeGarza’s shout stopped him once again.

“Yes, sir?”

“If you fail, I will have to find another subject.  Your father has agreed that your mother will take Ms.  Gaudet’s place should you be unsuccessful.”

How Devlin remained standing, he didn’t know.  His mother?  And his father had … he glanced at the other man’s impassive expression and hated him for everything he’d put them through, since aligning himself with DeGarza.

“How could you?”  He didn’t even try to keep the disgust from his tone, releasing years of resentment.

Maximilian shrugged.  “To achieve our means, we must at times make sacrifices.  You’re lucky, Devlin; you have a choice.  Be sure you make the right one.”

His father knew Devlin would do anything to protect his mother.  That must be why he’d agreed to this madness.  He knew Devlin wouldn’t let his mother face the same fate as so many others.  But handing over Helene would damn Devlin forever, while not turning her over would damn his mother to a torturous and prolonged death.  God, he’d always thought once he turned eighteen, he would be free, but a year later, he remained trapped.  And the situation had grown worse than he’d ever imagined.

He finally made his way out of his father’s office, struggling to contain his lurching stomach.  There had to be some way he could stop this, save them both.  But how?

He had to warn Helene, get her to leave town.  Then he’d have to get his mother to safety.  First Helene.  If he could convince her to go, then he’d have a few days to figure a way to get his mother away from here as well.

Helene worked in a café in the Quarter.  What was the name of it again?  He headed toward Jackson Square.  Saving her might get him killed but he had no choice.

Title: Claimed by the Mage (Bayou Magiste #2)

Author: Gianna Simone

Genres: Erotic Romance, Paranormal Romance

Categories: Alternate Modern Day New Orleans Area

Erotic Elements: BDSM

Publisher: Sizzler Editions

Release Date: September 13, 2013

Heat Level: Sizzling

Word Count/Length: 95,000 words/275 pages


Claimed by the Mage Cover

Claimed by the Mage (Bayou Magiste Chronicle 2) Blurb:

Lily Prentiss wishes she could ignore her inborn healing magic so she can live life on her terms, not follow the path her Magiste family chose for her. But when she stumbles across Aidan Marchand in the excruciating throes of evolving into a Mage, her touch is all that stops his pain and she can no longer deny her powers. When the sexy Dom seduces her into willing submission, she finds she doesn’t want to resist and actually enjoys giving up control.

Aidan has more to worry about than just his rapidly maturing powers – his business partner is blackmailing him into funding a venture that involves kidnapping young girls both magical and mortal, and selling them as sex slaves. Even as Lily’s touch eases Aidan’s pain, he knows staying with her puts her in danger from his enemies. But the gift of her sexual submission helps him even more than her healing magic…so how can he let her go?

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Chapter One

The crack of leather against flesh, followed immediately by a muffled grunt from the submissive bound to the bench, cut through the spectator’s hushed murmurs.  The spotlight bore down on the couple in the center of the room, leaving the rest of the viewing area shrouded with dark shadows.  The low-thumping bass of the music seemed to make the entire crowd throb together as they watched.

Ignoring the scene before him, Aidan Marchand stared at his soonto-be-former business partner.  The man had finally cracked.  Another strike of the submissive’s flesh caught his attention and he looked back at the stage, unable to completely focus.  The scene ended when the woman writhed on the bench, clearly reaching the desired climax.  Her heat filled cries echoed in the room.  Aidan watched, but didn’t really see, too distracted by thoughts of his business partner’s insane suggestion.

“Think about it, Marchand.” Eddie Orvano’s his beady gaze focused on the couple leaving the scene area.  “The money we can make — ”

Aidan held up a hand.  “Not here.”

He glanced around, though no one paid them any attention.  Eddie led Aidan to a secluded corner.  The party wasn’t as crowded as it had been earlier, many of the single attendees either having left or found a partner to play with.

Aidan closed his eyes against the throbbing in his head.  The pain in his temples had grown worse over the course of the evening, intensifying with every passing hour.  As soon as he let Eddie know he planned to end their partnership, he would head home to his comfortable bed and a long night’s sleep.  He had too many other issues to focus on and getting caught up in Orvano’s depraved scheme would ruin everything.

“Look at all these girls.  They’re playing,” Eddie said.

He waved a hand about, indicating several single women positioned at various places near the entrance, all of them subs, as indicated by the ribbons pinned to the right side of their outfits.  The one in the middle, a striking Creole Enchantress, caught Aiden’s eye.  He recognized her instantly.  He and Eddie had a three-way with her several weeks ago.

“That’s what these parties are for.  To play.”

Aidan emphasized the word.  What the fuck had he been thinking, coming here tonight?  He’d had no inclination to scene with anyone, but Eddie had lured him with the hint of a new business venture.  At first intrigued, now he wanted nothing more than to get away from the man who had finally let his fascination with the dark arts overcome him.  The “new business venture” turned out to be an illegal scheme only a person with zero morals would consider becoming involved in.  Eddie’s idea wasn’t about just playing with mind control and pushing the limits with magic and sex; what Orvano planned crossed the line from risky to insane.

“That’s not what I mean.  How many of these women really have any idea what it’s like to be a true slave?  No rights, no say in their lives.  Merely a possession.”

The eagerness in Eddie’s voice, the unholy light gleaming in his tiny eyes, sent another flash of fiery pain through the center of Aidan’s brain.  He shook his head, then stopped when the ache worsened.

“You’re a sick fuck.  That’s not what this is about.  What the hell happened to you?”

“Nothing happened to me except a need to make money.  Do you know how much some of those rich, foreign dignitaries will pay for American women?  I’d prefer non-Magiste women, but think about it.  All these lovely Enchantresses and low-level witches are easy enough to subdue.  You bind their magic; they’re the same as Mortal women.  I’m telling you, Marchand, we’d make fucking boatloads of money! I’ve got a business plan all laid out, the equipment and training locations selected.  Even a few potential customers.  Now it’s time to put the plan into play.  That’s where you come in.”

“No way.  You’re not getting me involved!”

“You’re already involved, Marchand.  I need your money to secure everything and get this operation running.  I’m this close to hiring a manager to help with the details.  I’ve got a few trainers lined up, too.  It’ll be slow, at first, but once we pick up a few girls and a few clients, things are gonna get real busy real fast.”

How Aidan managed not to lose his dinner right there on the floor, he’d never know.

“You’re not getting one dime out of me.  I’m having my lawyer draw up papers to dissolve our partnership.”

Aidan turned to leave, but Eddie’s grip on his arm stopped him.  He turned and stared into Orvano’s twisted face, taking in the man’s thin lips curled with rage and beady eyes darkened with menace.

“You’ll stake me, Marchand.  That pretty Creole over there?  She told me she wasn’t willing with you.  She’ll testify before the Tribunal if it comes to that.”

“What are you talking about?  She was more than willing with both of us and everything we did.”

Aidan remembered the night.  While the evening had started out as enjoyable, he’d quickly grown tired of her attempts to top from the bottom.  His annoyance had led him to, perhaps, be harsher with her than he intended, but he knew she’d loved every minute of the way he whipped her.

Eddie shrugged, the skintight black shirt pulling over his shoulders.

“You should see the video I got of you with that whip.  Left some nice marks.  She’s got photos of every one you put on her.”

Aidan clenched his hands into fists, trying to force back the thumping in his head, which continued to increase with each passing second.  He needed to get out of there.  Now.

“Eddie, leave me out of this,” he hissed through clenched teeth.

“You’re in … Until I say otherwise.”

He scowled at the triumphant gleam in Orvano’s eyes, turned, and stalked off, his head near exploding.  If he didn’t get some air, he would pass out.  He finally made his way outside to the street, gulping in deep breaths.  The pain in his head spread down through his shoulders and along his back.  More than a headache bothered him.  Il Relache.  Why had the damn process chosen now to kick in?

He needed to get home, before the progression rendered him weak with the pain of his growing powers.  Where the hell was the nearest Portal?  He didn’t see any signs of the magical, glowing arch used for travel by the Magiste.  Damn! The closest one was through the park.  He straightened, forcing himself to concentrate on reaching his destination before he passed out.

Title: Claimed by the Enchanter (Bayou Magiste #3)

Author: Gianna Simone

Genres: Erotic Romance, Paranormal Romance

Categories: Sports-Themed

Erotic Elements: BDSM, Menage (M/F/M)

Publisher: Sizzler Editions

Release Date: 8/20/2013

Heat Level: Sizzling

Word Count/Length: 90,000 words/269 pages


Claimed by the Enchanter Cover

Claimed by the Enchanter (Bayou Magiste Chronicles 3) Blurb:

Regine Marchand loves being in control – and the role of domme is the perfect way for her to exert that control. An accomplished equestrian, she has her goals of championship in sight and no one will get in her way. Her life and future are in her hands, she doesn’t need to depend on anyone for success and happiness.

Cameron McIntyre is fascinated by the cool façade Regine displays, but senses the depth of passion lurking under her surface. Despite her protests to the contrary, he recognizes in her a desire to submit and be dominated. But when he is forced to suspend her from competition due to performance enhancement spells used on her horse, he worries he may drive her away, instead of into his arms. Believing her innocent of the charges, he vows to help her uncover who set her up while convincing her that submission to him is what she truly wants and needs. Submitting to the tall Irishman brings a new level of pleasure Regine has never known, at the same time making her question everything she knew about herself.

Regine is unaware an enemy from her past has targeted her for revenge. Together she and Cameron must discover who wants to knock her out of competition for good, possibly killing her in the process.

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Regine Marchand adjusted her leather corset, smoothed the leather skirt and fidgeted uneasily on her over-the-knee stiletto boots.  With a deep breath, she knocked on the door.  When it opened, she showed her invitation to the bouncer, who scanned it, gave her a respectful nod and motioned her into the foyer.

The sound of a heavy bass thumping through the expansive penthouse beat in time with her anxious heart.  She neared the closed doors, behind which lay a raucous, erotic party and hesitated.  She’d only ever done this publicly once before and that hadn’t been very successful.  David had better be waiting for her inside; she wasn’t prepared to deal with this party alone.  A deep steadying breath, followed by the determined lifting of her shoulders and chin, and she felt ready.  Still, her fingers trembled when she pulled open the door.

With careful movements and for the moment trying to avoid being noticed by too many people, she made her way to a spot against the wall where she could peruse the attendees.  Everyone here appeared to be mortal, and she didn’t detect any magic, concealed or otherwise.  Good.  She was not in the mood to tangle with any Magiste tonight, especially while on unfamiliar turf.

Thankfully, this trip to Chicago was finally almost over.  Tomorrow, she’d be on her way to New Orleans.  Despite the successful purchase of two horses, she wanted to be home and prepping for the next event in Dallas.  The invitation left at the hotel’s front desk had intrigued her enough to find some time to attend, though she still didn’t know who sent it.  Very few people knew of her sexual preferences.  She worked hard to keep it a separate part of her life.

She didn’t see David and a moment’s annoyance flared.  Eyes narrowed behind the ornate mask covering her face, she scanned the room once more.  Bad enough he’d texted at the last minute to tell her he’d meet her here, but he should have arrived by now.  When she found him, she would be sure to give him a good thrashing for his tardiness and then force him to pleasure her.  Her body tingled at the thought.

She pushed away from the wall, her hungry gaze seeking out every instance of play in the room.  A female sub, blindfolded and tied to a bench, cried and moaned when her dom struck with a leather flogger, encouraging her through the scene.  For several moments, Reggie stood transfixed, as the dom alternated between slapping the sub’s flesh with the tails and teasing her pussy.

The need in the woman’s cries said so much and Reggie sucked in a breath.  Her nipples ached and she found herself wondering what it would be like to be touched like that.  How could she get her sub to touch her in such a way she’d wear that same rapturous expression?  She glanced at the dom, and the intensity lined into his face beneath his own mask sent another odd jolt to her gut.  He worked his sub expertly and despite the harlequin covering half his face, she clearly saw the glowing glint in his eyes.  The bulge at his crotch revealed his own arousal.

Reggie longed to participate in a scene such as this, where both participants were so wrapped up in each other the world melted away, The sub’s surrender, her willingness to accept whatever her dom wanted her to endure and feel, was something Reggie had never successfully drawn out from the few men she’d topped.  She’d gotten close with David, but she still knew something had been missing from their scenes.  Though she’d been hesitant to attend this party, she now realized she’d learn quite a bit just from observing.

The woman’s moan, filled with heat and pleasure, floated over the murmurs of the watching patrons.  The slightest twinge of envy poked at Reggie before she ruthlessly pushed it away.  She was not a sub.  She preferred being in control, making her lover perform for her needs.  She enjoyed hearing his grunts and groans when she paddled or whipped him with her crop or teased him into a long-delayed orgasm.  That she found herself longing to trade places with this female sub being put through a scene, was merely a passing curiosity.  Nothing more.

Reggie’s stare moved around the room.  Another young female sub, on her knees, a strip of silk covering her eyes, hands behind her back and sucking hard on her master’s cock, held a look of rapture as she worked at her task.  A male sub, made to kneel on all fours, while his domme rested her booted heels on his back.  Every now and then she would flick his hard dick, a cock ring snug at the base, with a soft flogger.  He winced with every blow and Reggie’s blood ran hot at the thought of doing that to David.  If she ever found him ….

All around her, people in various outfits of leather and latex, or completely naked, moved about the room.  One girl, acting as a waitress, had her wrists cuffed to the tray that sat below her breasts, holding them up alongside several drinks.  She stopped at a group of men, who each took their beer or wine or cocktail, before returning to their conversation.  The sub then went to another group and took more orders.

Where the hell was David?  Her annoyance grew, but was it because she was already excited by what she’d seen so far?  Or maybe because standing alone in the middle of this controlled and erotic chaos was far more unnerving than she expected.  At least, with everyone masked in some fashion, she didn’t worry too much about being recognized.

She found herself drawn once more to the woman being flogged.  The dom expertly teased his sub, making her moan and sigh in pleasure, before resuming slapping her reddened flesh with the leather, drawing squeals of pain and surprise.  Reggie’s tongue felt like sandpaper in her mouth and she swallowed, trying to work up some moisture.  Her crop tapped nervously against her leg, and her pussy throbbed, her clit already hard.

Finally, the dom picked up a thick vibrator and plunged it deep into the woman’s pussy, at the same time he leaned over and murmured something in her ear.  The shrieks that filled the room attested to the force of her climax, her body writhing within the confining bonds.  Long, drawn-out, minutes seemed to pass before she finally quieted and fell limply across the bench.

“Enjoying the view?”  The deep voice came from behind Reggie and she turned.

The tall powerful man, his face, except for his square jaw and sensuous lips, covered by a burgundy mask with ornate gold designs, towered over her.  Hard to do, since she stood at almost six feet herself.  She rarely had to tip her head back to look at a man.  Something vaguely intriguing teased the edges of her thoughts.

“Actually, I was looking for my sub,” she kept her voice low and hushed.

She had the sense he seemed startled by her words, and even with the mask she saw his eyes narrow.  Dark eyes, glittering eyes.  Eyes that seemed to mock her.  A frisson of anger crept along her spine.  Who was he to question her?

“I didn’t take you to be a domme.”

“And why not?”  Her annoyance escalated, but she held it in check.  She had no idea who this man was and she didn’t dare risk insulting another dom, possibly an esteemed invited guest to this private party.

“Call it a gut feeling.”

“And my attire, along with my crop, didn’t clue you in?”

“Like I said, gut feeling.  The way you looked at her as she was forced to come, I saw in your eyes you longed for what she had.”  He nodded toward the sub who now knelt before the dom, preparing to pleasure him orally.  The girl looked up at the man with adoration, obvious even through the simple leather mask covering her upper face.

Reggie gave a sharp, brittle laugh, alarmed by the sudden awareness that this forceful stranger’s words held some truth.  “You can tell that just from seeing my eyes behind a mask?  I think not.”

She turned to walk away, but he caught her arm.

“We’re not finished yet, Mistress.”

The mocking emphasis on the last word bristled along Reggie’s spine.  She jerked her arm free.  “How dare you!”

“I’ll dare a lot more later, when we’re alone.”

“You’ll never be that lucky.”  She snapped her head and walked away, his low chuckle reaching her even through the buzz of the party.  She fought the urge to clench her trembling hands into fists, at least until she moved safely away from him.

Only now did she notice the way her heart raced, the way his gaze, obscured by the mask, seemed to pierce through her soul.  What had he meant when he said he’d dare a lot more?  Why did she want to know?

“Ma’am, please forgive me.”

David’s voice cut through her thoughts.  She closed her eyes briefly, thankful to have someone take her mind off the foreboding path they rambled down.  She fixed a stern glare on her face and turned to her sub.

David knelt before her, dressed only in leather pants and wrist cuffs.  She couldn’t see his ankles from this angle, but assumed he wore cuffs there as well.  Good.  She had some steam to blow off and his timing couldn’t be more perfect.

“You’re late,” she spat.  She took a deep breath.  Her agitation had nothing to do with him, and while she’d take advantage of his submission to ease that tension, she had no business directing her anger at him.  That belonged squarely on an arrogant know-it-all dom.

“I am sorry.”  He kept his hands properly clasped behind his back, his head lowered.

She grabbed a handful of his sandy hair and forced him to look at her.  The eagerness in his eyes lifted the corners of her mouth.  She managed to keep her cool, knowing she was being watched.

“You will be,” she whispered.

His Adam’s apple bobbed, but he made no protest.  His eyes practically glowed with his growing excitement.  Containing her responding grin took a rather large effort.  “Go prepare yourself.  The spanking bench in the corner is empty.”

She pointed her crop toward the bench and observed David carefully, when he rose and walked in the direction she indicated.  Anything to keep from looking elsewhere, to see who might be looking back.  Her gaze moved over her trainer’s well-muscled torso, the tight ass encased in leather.  He padded, bare footed, across the lush carpet and she spotted the cuffs, as she’d suspected.  This time, she let the pleased smile curl her lips.

Again, her thoughts drifted to the people buzzing around the penthouse.  The sound of heat-filled cries, sobs and pleas, leather striking flesh, the scents of sex and sweat and incense, the pounding of the bass line of the music; suddenly seemed too intense.  She’d rarely done this publicly, and thought coming here tonight, to this private, invitation-only party, might be easier than venturing into some of the clubs closer to home.   The last time had been a disaster and she had no desire to repeat that.  She didn’t know anyone here, though someone apparently knew her.  Who?  She had the sense of being watched again, but resisted the urge to look around.

Did he still linger nearby?  Part of her hoped so.  Doing a scene with David, knowing the mysterious dom observed, sent a thrill along her spine.  David was going to be very busy tonight.  And she’d show that arrogant stranger exactly how much of domme she was.

* * * *

Cameron couldn’t take his eyes from her.  From the moment she’d entered the party, his gaze had been locked on her, the mass of dark blonde curls tied up in a long saucy ponytail, the stiletto heels that made her already long legs look like they stretched on forever.  He found himself imagining what it would be like to have them wrapped around his waist while he pounded deep into her.  The intense reaction shook him.  Years had passed since he’d had a reaction like that to any woman.  He knew in that moment, she was different.

She stood tall, almost evenly eye level with him.  He liked that, he wasn’t much for tiny women, fragile as birds, like the ones he usually found in clubs and parties.  He always worried he would break them during a scene, the agitated concern leaving him detached and unfulfilled.  But this woman, she could take what he gave her.

She played at being a domme, or had she only begun participating in the BDSM world?  Something about her hinted at innocence, or a naiveté, that she covered with her steely attitude.  He couldn’t say for sure why he became convinced.  Just a gut feeling as he’d told her, and his gut was rarely wrong.  He’d seen, rather than heard, the sharp intake of her breath when she’d watched the flogging and when the other sub had been forced to suck her master’s cock, hands locked behind her back, at the mercy of the man who then laid a paddle across her ass.  This mystery domme had clearly gotten highly aroused at what she’d seen, and none of it had to do with watching the other doms.  Her gaze had been squarely focused on the women being tormented.  No matter what denials she’d tried to make, the role of sub intrigued her.  He’d been at this game for a long time and knew how to read people.

He watched her speak to her sub, the man sliding out of his leather pants to lie across the bench.  She fastened his cuffs.  Cameron absorbed every movement she made, the way her breasts pushed against her corset as she bent, the light catching the lines of her muscular calves.  Her lips moving as she spoke to the young man.  He nodded, responding in the affirmative to her every question and Cameron admired her for taking the care that the man would be comfortable.  Well, as much as one could be, strapped down over a spanking bench, arse high while a woman laid leather across it.

Cameron wanted to tie her across that bench and redden her with a paddle, before he plunged into her welcoming heat.  He shifted, his swelling dick constrained by his own leather garments.

She stood back, her crop tapping against her leg.  He hung in the shadows, and couldn’t help smiling when she glanced around.  Was she looking for him?  He suspected so.  Something about the way she hesitated before she leaned over and spoke one last time to the man tied down before her.  Cameron suspected she gave instructions to put on a good show.   Because she wanted him to be watching?

The man gave another nod and she responded with a pleased smile, but a tremor swept over her.  She took a position beside the man, facing Cameron.  Her eyes remained focused on the sub’s ass.

His gaze raked over her lean, tall form.  She might be an athlete of some sort; strong defined muscles revealed by her short skirt and corset, blended with luscious curves he’d love to run his hands over.  He wanted her tied to his bed, open and helpless before him, surrendering her will to his.  His cock pressed against leather, reminding him again how long it had been since he’d reacted so strongly to a woman.  In the years since losing Ciara, he’d taken his pleasures, but no woman had inspired this sort of response.

Below her mask, her plump red lips caught his attention.  They bore the same shade as a mouthwatering glass of exotic wine, one he wanted to sip slowly and savor.  God, he could make a meal just nibbling on those lips.

Over the murmurs of the audience, Cameron clearly heard her say, “Count.”

She raised her arm and brought the crop down across both cheeks of the man’s ass.  He barely moved and distinctly said, “One.”

Cameron folded his arms, watching her technique.  She did know how to wield the crop, bringing it down again and again, each strike landing directly beside the previous one, leaving a precise pattern of stripes.  The sub counted precisely, though by the tenth stroke, a harsh groan escaped him when she swung the leather a bit harder.  Cameron couldn’t take his eyes from the domme.  Her cheeks flushed, shoulders swaying with each breath, lips parted, she looked like a decadent, wild creature.  One he wanted to tame.

He stood silently, absorbing every detail of her interaction with the sub.  She crouched before his head and they spoke and for a moment, a smile curved her mouth.  A surge of jealousy that she hadn’t smiled like that at him surprised him.  He wanted that warmth, wanted her touch.  He had to fight to keep from stalking over there and pulling her long fingers away from the man’s face.

All too soon, she uncuffed her sub from the bench and let him pull her close for a hug.  Cameron’s vision went red and his hands clenched.  His teeth ground together as she turned away.  He couldn’t watch anymore.  Need pounded in his head, his cock painfully hard.  He needed this seen to.  All around him, willing subs mingled, any one of them could take care of him.  But he didn’t want any of them.  He made his way to the bar and growled out a request for a double Scotch.   He tossed it back, and requested another.  Finally the haze in his thoughts cleared and he knew exactly what he had to do.


eBook copy of either “Prince of the Universe” or “Warrior’s Vengeance” PLUS Bayou Magiste Series swag (includes magnets, pens and postcards). In addition, the author will give away an ebook copy of each one of the books in the Bayou Magiste Series.

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Author Bio:

Gianna Simone-1022-LR-Color (1)

I’m a born-and-bred Jersey Girl, with Brooklyn roots, and I still live where it all started. I married my very own alpha male many eons ago, and am a former full-time working mom to two school-age children. Needless to say, free time is always at a premium, and I spend the bulk of it lost in the worlds of my own making. I love to read and write hot sexy and emotional stories about people both glamorous and not-so-glamorous. And some of them are even downright un-heroic at times, which is part of what makes them so sexy, in my opinion!

On those rare occasions when I am not writing, you can catch me playing in my other favorite alternate worlds of Highlander, Harry Potter, Charmed, and DragonBall Z! Yes, I know, an odd combo, but they all feature some of the sexiest villains ever. I’m also a HUGE fan of the NY Rangers, Criminal Minds, Vikings and All My Children – I am thrilled AMC has returned.

My books, which usually involve BDSM themes, and range from historical to paranormal and futuristic/sci-fi, are available through Renaissance Ebooks Sizzler Editions and Pink Flamingo Publications.

Contact Links:



Twitter: @Gianna_Simone


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