I'd like this shopping trip

So it's excerpt/outtake day again. This time, it's from Adventurous Me, which will be out in a little over a week. I loved this scene, but it didn't make it into the book. See what you think.

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        It was shaping up to be a quiet afternoon. Clint had said that he had to go to the dentist for a cleaning and then to the dealership to have the car serviced before he traded it in. I’d insisted that I could clean up from lunch, so I’m doing exactly that. He’s been gone about twenty minutes.

        My text tone goes off. When I look down, it’s him: You will take direction. Are you finished with lunch cleanup yet?

        I text back, Yes, Sir. All finished.

        Good. Go to the fetwear store. Pick out two outfits, try them on, and text me with a pic from the dressing room when you’re wearing the first one.

        What the heck is this all about? I get dressed, snatch up my keys, and head out the door. It’s not too far to the store, and I’m there in just a few minutes. When I pull up, something makes me text to him, Aren’t you at the dentist, Sir?

        I immediately get back a text that simply says, You will take direction.

        Yes, Sir. Wrong question, apparently. Once inside, the girl I usually see there isn’t working. There’s another woman, this one not too much younger than me, and she’s stocking. “Can I help you with something?” she asks. She seems friendly enough.

        “I need two new outfits. Any suggestions?” I’m prowling through the racks already, looking for something that will work.

        “This is nice,” she says and whips out a leather dress. It’s black, but around the bottom, it’s red, and cut from the red is flames which go up the dress about ten inches, so it’s like the hem is on fire. Really cute. She finds a cute little red jacket to go with it.

        “I like this. What about these?” I ask, holding up a pair of bright pink satin tap pants with rhumba ruffles across the butt.

        “Oh, yeah. I liked those when we got them in. Here,” she says, handing me a black bra with bright pink polka-dots. “Whaddya think?”

        “Very cute! Can I try these on?” I ask her, and she points to the dressing room.

        I try on the dress, take a selfie, and text Clint: Here’s the first one, Sir.

        I get back a terse, No. Try on the second.

        When I’ve got the bra and shorts on, I text him again: What about this, Sir?

        Again, just, No. Try again.

        Now I’m kind of put out. I text back to him, Sir, maybe if you’d tell me what you’re thinking, I could do a little better job of picking something out.

        Instead of a real answer, he replies, Play to your strengths, Vännan .

        What the hell does that mean? I stump back out of the dressing room. “He says no; he says to play to my strengths. I don’t know what that means.”

        The woman looks me up and down. “Hmmmm.” That’s all she says. She starts poking through the racks, so I do too. In a few minutes, she says, “Here.”

        What she hands me is completely different from what I would’ve chosen. It’s a lace chemise, beautiful and delicate, in a pale turquoise trimmed with pearls, complete with underwire cups. There’s a little thong that matches it, plus it has its own pair of turquoise stockings to go with it. I’d spotted some brocade floral platforms and, sure enough, they have this particular shade of turquoise in their pattern. I retreat back into the dressing room, slip everything on, and forward a photo. What I get back shocks me.

        Now THAT’S more like it. Find a second outfit.

        I never would’ve picked something like this. It’s beautiful, but I thought fetwear was supposed to be leather. This is just sexy lingerie. I go back out to the floor, have the clerk help me pick out another outfit, and go back in. This one is a peachy colored lace bra and high-legged bikini panties trimmed with black satin. It’s very 40’s-looking. I put on black stockings and black stilettos and take another pic. This response is even more surprising.

        You’re beautiful, Trish. Buy both outfits, go home, and wash them. Put them up to dry with the fan trained on them. Apparently he wants them dry so I can wear them later.

        Well, I guess that’s that. I pay the clerk, with Ron’s credit card, of course, and head back to Clint’s. Once they’re washed and hung up, I text back, Mission accomplished, Sir. What next?

        They’re calling me back to the chair. Take a nap, one hour. Shower. Dress in the black-trimmed outfit. Be in your place when I arrive.

        I do exactly as I’m told. When I’m dressed in the new outfit, I take a proper assessment of myself. My hair is perfect, my makeup is nice but not overdone. I walk away and then, for some reason, I wheel around and look at myself in the mirror from across the room.

        And I gasp. All of a sudden, it all makes sense. The outfit shows off my every curve in a very soft, feminine way, not all industrial like the leather looks. I look very sexy, very voluptuous, and sort of – sweet? With my fair skin, the peachy color makes me sort of glow. It’s actually fairly captivating, my appearance across the room. If I were a guy, I’d want to . . .

        Fuck me. I’d want to fuck me. Now I see what he was trying to say. I look okay in leather, but I look very, very hot in something soft and feminine. It’s like something deep inside me has lit up and come to life. I take another look in the mirror and realize I’m smiling – at myself. And suddenly I can’t wait for Clint to get here so I can see his reaction. I know he saw the selfie I made, but that’s not the same as seeing the real thing.

        So I kneel in my place and wait. I’m there for maybe twenty-five minutes when I hear the car alarm being set. Head down, palms up, I sit perfectly still. The door opens, the keys go into the bowl on the table, and I know he’s turned to look at me. There’s silence in the house, not a sound. Finally, he comes to me until I can see his shoes. “Sub, rise and face your master.” His voice is authoritative and final. I stand quickly and he says, “Look at me.”

        My face finds his eyes and I see that they’re almost smiling. “Do you understand why I chose these things over the previous choices?” he asks me.

        I nod. “Yes, Sir. They’re beautiful, Sir,” I whisper almost inaudibly.

        “No. They’re not beautiful.” He reaches out and cups my breasts in his hands. “You’re beautiful in them.” My nipples instantly grow hard under the lace and satin, and he says, “On your knees in front of the couch, facing it. Torso on the cushions, arms extended out across them.” When I’ve assumed the position, I feel him move the crotch of the panties to the side and two fingers slip into my pussy. “God, you’re wet. I’ll take my pleasure now.” I hear his belt buckle clank as he unbuckles, then the sound of the zipper on his fly fills the room.

        I was unprepared when his hand smacked my ass, first one cheek, then the other, but I feel juices gush between my pussy lips and my arms start to tremble. Five strikes on each ass cheek, and then I feel the head of his cock at the entrance to my sheath.

        In one efficient movement, he’s buried in me. I groan out, louder than I had when he’d smacked me, and the sound stokes his fire. I love the feel of his fingers digging into my hips, holding me steady as he glides in and out of me, and I start to cry out. To my surprise, he grunts out, “Come whenever you’re ready, sub.”

        It surprises me even more to hear the sob that bolts from my lips when my orgasm hits, and to my disbelief, he cries out and comes almost instantly after my orgasm starts. I’m overwhelmed with the sounds and sensations, the pinch of his fingers in my flesh, the tears rolling down my cheeks and my hair down and all around my face. He abruptly pulls me back and onto his cock as he kneels on the floor, me perched on him, my back to his chest. His arms wind around my waist,  holding me against him, and he whispers into my ear, “You’re so beautiful, so damn beautiful.”

        I begin to weep openly. I’m unaccustomed to hearing those words – ever. I’ve never thought of myself as ugly exactly, but I’ve also never thought of myself as beautiful. “Sir, I . . .”

        One of Clint’s hands wraps around my neck ever so lightly and he growls, “If you’re thinking of arguing with me, don’t. You’re beautiful, Trish.”

        And that clinches it. I start to sob. “Hey, what’s wrong?” he whispers and kisses my cheek. Before I can answer, I’m standing, my panties are back in place, and he sits down on the sofa and pulls me onto his lap. “Talk to me, sub. That’s an order.”

        I stammer and stutter, “I’m not beautiful.”

        Something crosses his face. “Stand up.” When I’m standing, he barks, “Hands on the sofa.” I know what’s coming.

        Thwack! His hand comes down hard across my ass, and then again and again. Ten strikes in, he sits back down and draws me back onto his lap. “You’re beautiful, Trish. And how do you respond?”

        I smile through my tears. “Thank you, Sir.”

        He pulls my head down onto his shoulder, my face against his collarbone, and he whispers back, “You’re welcome.”

  

Ever wonder what they're doing?

Yeah, sometimes I do too. I wonder what the family members and friends in Louisville and Lexington are up to. So I thought I'd check in.

Steve's in the middle of drawing up documents for Tony, Clayton, Vic, and Bart. You'll have to read the next book to find out what that's about, but it's good for everyone.

Tony's busy on the new business project, and he's thinking about hiring someone to work for him who'll make his life a whole lot easier. He's also thinking about Nikki, about how he'd taken partial retirement to spend more time with her, and he's spending even less time working on the facility. He's hoping that putting more employees in place will give him some breathing room, because he'd rather be at home with her than standing in the middle of a construction site, even if it is his construction site.

Nikki's thinking ahead to Vic and Laura's wedding. She's been helping Laura put the guest list together, which is pretty easy, but Vic's insistent that Laura's mom and dad be involved, and Laura's balking. And poor Nikki's trying to keep them both happy. But she thinks she's got it figure out.

Vic's arranging for Laura's wedding gift. He's ordering her a custom-painted Volvo SUV like the one Nikki had before it was wrecked and burned. He wants her to be safe out on the highway, and if it comes in and is ready earlier, he won't wait until their wedding day to give it to her. He wants her to have it NOW. But the paint job's holding it up . . .

Laura's spending a awful lot of time with that Kindle Paperwhite that Vic gave her for Christmas. He hasn't really paid much attention but, if he had, he'd find out she's bought all kinds of books on BDSM and she's reading like crazy, not just "how-to" books, but fiction too. She's getting all kinds of ideas, but she's still a little shy about approaching him about all of it. She's also scared to death that he's going to get bored with her. That'll never happen, but she's not so sure.

José's sister is driving him crazy. He got a call from social services in Cook County about his youngest siblings. If he could get his fingers around Rosita's neck, no telling what he'd do to her.

Peyton's helping his mom and dad move - since he bought his house, they're moving to a smaller one. He hates to see them sell the home he grew up in, but they don't need a house that big anymore, especially with no grandkids on the horizon.

Clayton's making plans to take Brittany away on a little trip. Their sex life has really suffered since they adopted Anthony and Ella Jane, and he wants them to have some hot and heavy one-on-one time. Tony's assured him that they'll be glad to keep the kids for a weekend, even a four-day weekend. He's hoping Brittany will be excited when she finds out.

Katie's getting more miserable by the day. Being pregnant isn't her idea of fun. Sometimes she wishes Annabeth could understand why she's so short-tempered and tired. They have decided, though, that once the baby comes, Annabeth's going to carry the next one. The big question is, who'll be the sperm donor? They've got someone in mind if they can talk him into it.

Molly's going to her favorite deli to pick up some lunch for her and Vic, and then she's going to a reading circle this evening. She's decided her life is boring, but she doesn't know what to do to fix it.

And Kelly's worried. There are rumors that some of them at the agency are going to lose their jobs. She's identified a group of clients that they could help - people who are paying way too much for their insurance. She's putting together a spreadsheet to show to Ken, her boss, to see if he'll let her pursue some cost-saving measures for them and hopefully get them to refer others to their company. Maybe that would make her more valuable to the company.

They're all working hard. I am too, trying to get the next book out to you. It's almost here, so hang in there!

"Bad Libs" - just as bad as they get!

The ever-entertaining Meankitty and her human, Jody Wallace, have hosted my new book, Adventurous Me, over on their blog today (sorry, Meankitty, I know it's your blog, but I'm trying to be nice to Jody, okay?). It's too funny for words. Well, no, not for words, because words are what makes it so funny, but, well, so you get the picture. I love these. They're über clever, no? Go over, read it, and please leave Meankitty and her human a comment. Enjoy!

Meankitty's "Bad Libs" of Adventurous Me

I think today is an excerpt day - and a cover reveal!

I promised an outtake or an excerpt. Today it's an excerpt from Adventurous Me, AND you get the cover too!

It's coming out on April 1, and it's a fun read that's sweet and hot and sad and happy and every other great adjective you can think of. Trish is so funny sometimes, and sometimes she's so naive, but she's a very good person who deserves better than she got, that's for sure. So have fun with this excerpt. It's steamy and kind of scary and is very typical of, um . . . well, you'll just have to read the book. Enjoy!

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     The bliss is short-lived. On Saturday afternoon apparently I commit another faux pas. When he comes into the living room to watch the ballgame, I’m kneeling on the floor in my spot. The first words out of his mouth are, “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

     My eyes go round. “What, Sir? I don’t know . . .”

     “Your hair. Why did you do that?”

     I just pulled it up into a ponytail after I washed it. I thought it would be nice, since it didn’t appear we were going anywhere, and it would keep it out of the way. “Uh, Sir, I . . .”

     “I thought you understood that it belongs to me. I don’t want it tied up. I like it down. Go back there, take it down, brush it out, and get back out here. Pronto.” I take off at a run, or as much of one as I can manage in heels, and do as he says. Then I come back out and drop back into my spot. I thought that settled it.

     It did not.

     He disappears and comes back with a pair of nipple clamps in his hand. “Stand in front of me and arch your back. Put your arms behind you and grab each elbow with the opposite hand.” When I do, my boobs stick out and my nipples are front and center. He twists and sucks one until it’s hard, then puts the clamp on it, and repeats with the other. Once they’re on, he starts to turn a little screw device on them and they get tighter and tighter until tears are running down my cheeks. Then he grabs the chain and pulls me across the room.

     When we get to the front door, I wonder if he’s going to lead me out onto the porch naked, but he doesn’t. Instead, he twists a loop into the chain and pulls it down, looping it over the doorknob. “You’ll stay there until I tell you that you can move. And keep your arms behind your back.”

     It takes about fifteen seconds for the position to get uncomfortable, and less than two minutes for it to become unbearable. It wouldn’t be so bad if I could use my hands to brace myself, but I can’t; they’re still behind me. It’s becoming hard to stay upright on the heels when I’m bent over so far, but I know if I fall the clamps will probably rip my nipples right off.

     He watches the first inning. Then the second inning. I can’t believe I’d still be standing by the end of the third inning, but I am. Halfway through the fourth I’m beginning to think I won’t be able to stand it another minute when he says, “Unloop the chain from the door and come over here.” I do as he says and totter to him, still somewhat bent over and tears streaming down my face.

     “Here we go,” he says and pulls off the first clamp. The agony makes me lightheaded. I’m panting and screaming when he pulls off the second one, and I stumble and almost fall from the pain, but he catches me. “Now you can kneel.” That’s all he says, and he goes back to watching the game as though nothing has happened.

     I look down at my nipples. They’re purple and swollen, and they have little ridges in them where the clamps were. I desperately want him to suck on them, lick them, make them feel better, but he just keeps watching TV. At the end of the fifth inning he asks, “Still hurting?”

     “Yes, Sir,” I whine.

     “You can reach them with your mouth, can’t you?” he asks.

     I nod. “Yes, they’re big enough that I can, Sir.”

     “Suck and lick them yourself. And do it so erotically that I can’t watch TV for watching you.”

     I start. At first I’m just flicking at them with my tongue, but then I start to actually suck them. They sag just enough that I can bring them up and capture them between my lips – hey, gravity is not my friend, okay? At first, he’s paying absolutely no attention to me. As I suck one, I lick it, and I moan a little.

     That gets his attention, and he unzips his jeans, pulls his briefs down under his balls, and starts to stroke his cock. I want to suck it so bad that I can’t stand it, but he hasn’t told me that I can, so I keep it up with my nipples. After a little while I draw them down, then roll and pinch them with my thumb and fingers. I pull on them individually a couple of times, then at the same time, then go back to sucking them, and I watch him start to stroke faster. A little groan escapes his lips and he rubs his palm around the suede-soft head of his dick, then goes back to stroking. I’m getting hot and wet watching him, and he’s getting hot and hard watching me, and we’re driving ourselves crazy watching each other. I take a chance.

     “Sir, I’d love to suck your cock.”

     “I’m sure you would, but I want you to watch me pleasure myself instead. Does it arouse you to see me do this?”

     “Yes, Sir. It’s very, very hot.” I pause, then I say, “You’re very, very hot, Sir.”

     “Thank you, Vännan. You’re pretty damn hot yourself. Bring those tits over here, baby.” I crawl in between his legs and lean in, and he squeezes my breasts together and slips his cock between them. In a matter of seconds he’s tit-fucking me like crazy and I’m still playing with my nipples. Watching me makes him frantic and he’s thrusting like crazy. He cries out, “Oh, god, Trish, oh, fuck!” and shoots cum up under my chin, where it runs down all over my chest. When he stops panting, he looks down at my chest and smiles, then runs his finger through his cream and sticks it in my mouth. I give his finger a hard suck and he repeats the action, watching me with sparkling eyes while I suck his finger over and over until I’ve taken in almost all of his cum. “You’d lick it off your chest if you could reach it, wouldn’t you, Vännan?”

     “Yes, Sir, I would,” I say, blushing a little and looking away.

     In a flash his hands are on my waist, pushing me down onto the carpet, and he’s in me and pumping like a maniac before I can even brace myself. My legs come up and around his waist, and he squeezes the flesh of my ass in his hands as he drives into me, his palms searing my skin, the ballgame forgotten in his frenzy to take me. “Reach between us and stroke yourself, baby. Make yourself come.” I don’t need to be told twice, and I start stroking my hard little nub and crying out, grinding against him with every thrust of his hips.

     I finally scream out as I convulse, my cunt banging into his pelvis as he continues to slam into me, and he cries out, “Oh, fuck me!” I can’t believe there could still be a drop of cum in him, but it shoots into me and runs back out as he continues to milk himself into me.

     When he drops on top of me, his lips find my ear. “You are without a doubt the most precious, delectable fuck I’ve ever had,” he whispers, nibbling at my earlobe, and I giggle. “Do I do it for you, little one? How do you feel when I fuck you, baby?”

     “Like I can’t get enough. Like you fill me up in ways no one else ever has. Like I don’t want it to end, Sir.” I want to say, Like I’m falling for you, but I don’t.

     “Then we’re on the same page,” he whispers back to me, and I feel something in my chest, something that makes me feel like a fifteen-year-old girl.

     And I like it.

Ready for another outtake?

Your promised outtake awaits below, and boy, is it a good one. This didn't make it into the fourth book, Planning an Addition, and I was really sorry because it's so good. I don't know how long that book is going to wind up being, so it could possibly go in there, but I doubt it. And it's too good to waste, so enjoy it here and know that you're one of the few people who'll ever read it. Poor Vic - so many things happen to him, but he always finds a way to turn lemons into lemonade. This is one of those times. Happy reading!

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     “Thanks, Carter! See you Monday.” Vic stepped off the tarmac and into the waiting limo, throwing his duffel into the back seat with him. He traveled light – always had, always would.

     This time he had a little something extra in his bag. He’d stopped at the adult store before he went to the airport that morning and picked up a few things to surprise his pretty wife. There was no way to know how Laura would react to the blow job candy, but he couldn’t wait to try out the new toy. It was all worked out in his mind: He’d put her on her back, press her legs up as high as he could get them, and then slip the butt plug in.

     But he couldn’t wait to see the look on her face when he flipped the switch and the thing started to vibrate. Yeah, that would be good. If he could just get a picture of that . . . nope. He’d tried it before, and she’d made it clear she’d have none of the picture-taking during sex. Of course, she had no idea he’d taken that one picture with his phone of his cock buried in her ass. Her face wasn’t in the photo, so he didn’t think it was a bad thing. He pulled it out, looked at it from time to time, and grinned so hard his cheeks hurt.

     He couldn’t help it – damn, she was a fine fuck. Yeah, it helped that he’d pretty much trained her the way he wanted her, but she had some natural talent that went a long, long way in the sack. And he’d been missing that talent for the last two weeks. A weekend in D.C. wasn’t going to hurt him business-wise, and he couldn’t wait to be buried up to his balls in her softness.

     His phone rang as he was pulling it out of his pocket to call – yep, she was as eager as he was. “Hey, baby! How’s my pretty farfalla?”

     “Horny as hell.” Wow – she’d never said that to him before! She must’ve really been missing him. “I’ll be so glad when we’re alone tonight. I need you so bad.” The last phrase came out kind of pouty, and Vic’s cock jumped a little at the thought of her plump lips.

     “I don’t know how long it takes to get there from the airport. Should I come to the hotel?”

     Laura thought for a minute. “No, come straight to the restaurant. Rembrandt’s. I’m sure the driver knows where it is. I’m so excited that you’re going to get to meet Tracie!”

     “Me too, babe. I’ll be there as fast as I can get there. I love you, Laura Elaine.” He smiled into the phone.

     “I love you too, big boy.” They hung up and Vic slipped the phone back into his pocket. She really sounded excited that he’d be there for the weekend, and he was glad he’d finally get to meet the woman he’d heard so much about.

     As Laura had started going to the subcommittee hearings and working with the taskforce, she’d met Tracie at the capitol building. Tracie Elliot worked for a female senator from Kansas, and their happenstance meeting in an elevator had blossomed into a fast friendship. Laura and Tracie had been spending lots of their free time together, and Vic was beyond thrilled that she’d made a friend there. It had made their temporary separation more bearable for her. For Vic, no such luck. No diversion was enough to make the ache of her absence go away.

     The limo driver made it clear that he was at Vic’s disposal and would be waiting when they finished dinner, so Vic just left his duffel in the back seat. The restaurant was gorgeous from the outside, and he hoped the food was as good as the ambience.

     As soon as he stepped through the doorway, he saw her waving at him from a table in the back corner. The smiling host led him back, promised him a drink, and left him with the two women. Laura rose and threw her arms around his neck, and for a few seconds they were the only two people in the room, their lips pressed together as they melted into each other.

     “Ahh-hemmmmm.” A female voice cleared its throat. “Could you two take it to the back? Or do you want to eat?” Vic chuckled within their kiss and turned Laura loose to greet the voice.

     Tracie Elliot sat at the table across from Vic’s seat, and when he turned to her, her jaw dropped. “See? I told you he’s gorgeous! Tracie, this is my husband, Vic. Vic, Tracie Elliot.” Laura’s introduction put a face to Tracie’s name for Vic, but it struck him that she was staring at him in an odd way.

     “Nice to meet you, Tracie.” Vic extended his hand and Tracie took it, still giving him the strange look.

     “Um, and you too,” she said, a weird, covert grin on her face. Vic caught it, but Laura was oblivious, and he was just a little uncomfortable.

     “So, what have you two been up to?” Vic asked, trying to make small talk.

     “Well, let’s see . . . yesterday at lunch, Tracie took me to this really cute little shop and I bought a sweater and some jeans. And then today we went to the salon and had our nails done.” Laura held up a hand and wiggled her fingers, and Vic nodded his approval, but he was still watching Tracie out of the corner of his eye. Something was definitely wrong, that odd grin still just under the surface of her composure. “What else, Tracie?”

     The woman blinked twice, then seemed to snap to herself. “Oh, um, uh, we, um, we got coffee.”

     “Oh, yeah, there’s this coffee shop down the block where the baristas make the cutest little pictures with the foam in the lattes. It’s great.” Laura was beaming and staring into Vic’s eyes. But Tracie was still making him very uncomfortable. She stared at him like he was an alien, and it was really starting to bother him.

     They ordered salads and appetizers and attempted to make small talk, but Tracie was still disengaged. Just as the salads arrived, Laura announced, “I’ll be right back. Where are the restrooms?”

     Tracie pointed at the far corner of the restaurant without turning to look at it – she was still staring at Vic. “Way over there.”

     “You guys entertain each other. I’ll be back in a minute.” With that, she disappeared across the room, leaving Vic at the table with Tracie.

     She stared at him. “So, sounds like you and Laura are having fun,” he tried.

     “Um-hmmm,” she muttered and continued to stare. Occasionally she’d bat her eyelashes.

     “So,” Vic tried again, “you work for a senator? That must be interesting.”

     “It is.” She stopped at that and leaned back a little, turned her head slightly sideways, and stared at him some more. Vic’s discomfort was almost unbearable. He couldn’t figure out what was going on. Was she drunk? On some kind of drugs?

     Finally, he dropped an eyebrow and peered out at her. “Is something wrong?”

     An actual smile came across her face. “You don’t remember me, do you?”

     Vic took a closer look at her. Blue eyes, blond hair, but nothing remarkable about her. Nicely built, but no bombshell. “Should I?”

     She gave a little snort. “You should. You fucked me for four hours one night.”

     Oh holy shit! Vic had always known there was a danger of this happening, but not tonight. Not right now. Oh my god, what the hell? NOW what do I do?  “Um, where and when was this?”

     Tracie went wet. He was unbelievable – it had been years and he was even better looking than he’d been back then. “Vic. Big Vic. Master Vic. The Raven’s Nest in Panama City.” She sat back, crossed her arms across her chest, and smirked.

     Yep, sweet mother of god, it must be true. I don’t remember her. Shit. Was she good? I just can’t place her . . . “Yes, I’ve been there a few times.”

     “A few times? You were practically the main attraction. As I recall, there was a waiting list for your, um, attention. You really don’t remember me?” She seemed incensed. This wasn’t going well at all.

     “You have to understand, I was, uh, extremely busy in those days.” Vic was looking for something to say to diffuse the situation. Anything would work; even an Oh, look, the Hindenburg is outside the window! would’ve been better than this.

     “I’ll say. I remember seeing you and another Dom scening with three women at once. That was a night everybody remembered.” She sat up, then leaned in with her elbows on the table and rested her chin on her fists. “The night you scened with me, you buckled me into a spreader bar, put nipple clamps with chains on me, wrapped the chains around my shins, and then proceeded to fuck my ass for a half hour, in the public area no less.” She grinned. “And that was after you’d chained me to the St. Andrews, flogged my ass for a half hour, and then tortured me through five orgasms with the Magic Wand.”

     Vic nodded. “Yeah, that sounds like me all right.” No use in denying it – he might not remember, but he’d obviously done it.

     “You didn’t fuck my cunt until you took me to a privacy room. You tied my hands to the headboard and my legs spread-eagle and banged me until we were both exhausted. I think you came at least four times.”

     Yeah, that sounds like me too, Vic thought. “So I take it you liked it?” Vic asked. He couldn’t think of anything else to say. Where the hell was Laura? There must’ve been one helluva line in that bathroom.

     “Yeah, you could say that. I can’t believe you’re sitting here in front of me. How lucky could I get?” She licked her lips.

     That startled Vic. “I don’t understand . . .”

     “Oh, you will. See, you’re going to make some excuse about how you’ve got to go out tonight after you two get to the hotel, and you’re going to come to my apartment and fuck me. I want it and I need it, and you were really, really good. Of course, if you don’t want to . . .”

     Vic squared his shoulders. “It’s not that I don’t want to. It’s just that it’s not going to happen. The only woman whose business I’m going to be up in tonight is my wife’s.”

     “Oh, so that’s how we’re going to play it?” Tracie sat back again and crossed her arms. “Let me tell you how this is going down: You come to my apartment and fuck me or I’ll tell your little wife about our history.”

     Vic smirked at her. “Go ahead.”

     The smile disappeared off her face and her eyebrows jerked upward. “You’re not serious!”

     He nodded. “I absolutely am. Matter of fact, when she comes back I’ll tell her myself. And maybe I’ll tell her that her ‘friend’ here – and I use that term loosely – tried to blackmail me into sleeping with her.”

     “You wouldn’t.”

     He could tell she didn’t believe him. “You watch me.”

     Within seconds, Laura appeared behind Vic. She put her hands on his shoulder and kissed the top of his head before she sat down. “So, what did I miss?”

     Tracie nearly fell out of her chair when Vic announced, “Hey, Tracie and I know each other! Can you believe that?”

     Laura looked from Vic to Tracie, noted the look on Tracie’s face, and then turned back to Vic. “Oh? And how’s that?”

     “Go ahead and tell her, Tracie,” Vic grinned.

     “Um, uh . . .”

     It took Laura about two seconds to figure out what was going on. “Go on, Tracie. Tell me how you know my husband.” She waited, her face a blank.

     “Uh, we, uh, we scened together at a club in Panama City a long time ago.” Tracie’s face was turning bright red.

     Vic, blunt as ever, just offered right up, “Yeah. Apparently I fucked her for, how long did you say, Tracie, four hours?”

     Laura’s reaction shocked Tracie more than anything – the brunette began to chuckle. “Oh, is that right? So how was he?”

     Tracie swallowed hard. “Good. Really good.”

     “You don’t have to tell me.” Laura leaned toward Vic and kissed him, and he kissed her back, a hot little thing that made her blood sizzle. “That’s one mighty cock I’ve laid claim to there,” she laughed and reached under the table. Vic jumped and his eyes went wide, and Tracie knew exactly what Laura had done.

     “You’re, you’re not, um, upset?” Tracie still couldn’t believe it. She’d expected Laura to go ballistic, but her tall, pretty, dark-haired friend actually seemed amused.

     “Well, I’ll admit, it’s kind of awkward.” Laura grinned at Tracie. “But it’s not surprising. He got around a lot before we met.” She stopped and stared at Tracie. “Tell me, did he remember you?”

     Vic had to work to keep from laughing right out loud when Tracie turned almost purple. Laura waited and drummed her fingernails on the table until Tracie finally muttered, “No.”

     That was it. Vic couldn’t hold it in anymore, and he started laughing. When he did, Laura started laughing too. They were both gasping for breath, and Tracie was mortified. Laura managed to choke out, “I always knew this was going to happen. It was just a matter of time.”

     “I know, right? My timing sucks!” Vic wheezed. “Look, Tracie, I don’t think your idea for blackmailing me into sleeping with you tonight is going to work, obviously.” At that, Laura sobered and glared at her friend. “But I’ll forgive you for wanting another piece of me. I’m not surprised. It’s reported that I’m pretty damn fine in the sack.”

     “Oh yes you are,” Laura growled and kissed him again.

     Tracie blanched. “I think I need another drink.”

     Vic had managed to get himself under control. “I think we all do. Hey, look, here comes our appetizers. Eat up, girls. At least one of you is going to need her strength tonight!”

     They managed to bluster their way through dinner and parted with Tracie still red-faced and Vic telling her how nice it was to meet her – again. Vic and Laura were still laughing when they got to the hotel. When the door closed, it was a different story.

     “Come here,” Laura snarled. She grabbed Vic’s shirt and pulled him to her. His arms wrapped around her and held her tight against him, and the kiss they locked into brought the temperature in the room up by about ten degrees. When they broke, she pushed him up against the closed door and dropped to her knees. “I want this. Right now.” When she got his jeans unzipped and yanked down on them and his boxer briefs, his hugely-engorged cock bounced into view. “Yep. I see you do too.”

     “God yes, angel.” Her mouth opened and he was about to thrust into her when she stopped him.

     “What’s this?” She pointed at a bandage just to the right of his dick.

     Vic grinned. “You can pull it off. See for yourself.”

     Laura reached up and picked the edge of the bandage loose with an index fingernail. When she peeled it away, she gasped.

     It was a tattoo of a butterfly, beautiful and multicolored, facing his shaft. Around it, in a graceful script, were the words, La mia piccola farfalla. Il mio infinito amore. “Oh, my god, baby, it’s beautiful! When did you have this done?”

     “The day after you left.” Vic grinned down at her with pride. “They always told me it was bad luck to have a woman’s name tattooed on you, so I did this instead. Pretty, huh?”

     “It is! That had to hurt too,” she frowned.

     He shrugged. “I wanted it where only you, I, and maybe my doctor would ever see it. I think I succeeded.”

     “The two of us and your doctor had better be the only ones who ever see it.”

     “So you like it?” Vic asked, then tipped his head back and groaned.

     “Uh-huhhhhhh,” was all Laura could manage with her mouth full.

Jump on board the tour bus!

Today we're kicking off my blog tour for The Celtic Fan! Exciting, huh? There's a giveaway too. So join us all week at the tour locations. You might learn something about the book, or you might learn something about me. It might be something you don't want to know . . . you can never tell. But you won't know unless you visit!

Monday, 03/03/14
For Whom the Books Toll

Tuesday, 03/04/14
Drue's Random Chatter

Wednesday 03/05/14
Illustrious Illusions

Thursday 03/06/14
Mad Gypsy in Wonderland

Friday 03/07/14
Romance Book Craze

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Your wish shall be granted!

I heard from enough of you to believe that you want to hear more. You're going to get your outtakes. And they're going to be good. If you don't believe me, just read this. I had intended to do them on Wednesdays, but I'll probably post them on Mondays. I'll let you know when they're here. So enjoy!

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     I need to be home with Nikki. It was impossible to get anything done. All Tony could do was think and worry. He was pretty sure everything was okay, but there was this niggling fear in the back of his brain. What if there really was something wrong with her? He’d already made the decision earlier in the day: He had to hire someone to take over the office. A manager, or a personal assistant, or someone, anyone, who could take over the running if need be and let him go home. A pile of paperwork sat in the middle of his desk, taunting him, but he fought off the temptation. It could wait until the next day. Dinner would be waiting. She would be waiting. What if she wasn’t there much longer, waiting for him? I’ve got to shake that off, he told himself. Everything was going to be fine.

     Then the door popped open. “Hey, boss, can you come out here?” Malcolm stood in the doorway. “There’s something you need to see.”

     “Sure.” Tony followed his site supervisor out the door and into the parking lot. Malcolm pointed down the driveway.

     “Look.” Malcolm folded his arms across his chest as Tony peered down the driveway. He could see two figures headed their way, and he could tell, even at that distance, that one of them was Franklin. She was the only dog of her kind anywhere near there, but today another dog walked beside her.

     Dog? Tony squinted. Was that a dog? “Malcolm, what the hell is that?”

     “I’m not sure. That’s why I called you out here.”

     “Is it a dog?”

     Malcolm was squinting at them too. “I . . . I don’t think so. I can’t tell . . .”

     Tony took another long look. “No, it’s not a dog. It looks like . . .”

     Malcolm stared hard. “Is that a . . .”

     Tony chuckled. “It’s a damn goat.”

     “What the hell?” Malcolm put his hands on his hips and watched the two figures drawing closer. After a few steps, the goat would veer off the drive into the grass. It would take a few bites from the weeds before Franklin herded it back up onto the drive and they both started strolling toward the barn again.

     Tony couldn’t believe his eyes. Within minutes, Franklin walked up and sat down beside Tony. The goat followed, walked past Franklin, and began to make itself at home near a bale of hay, which it promptly began to raid.

     “What do you want me to do?” Malcolm asked, slack-jawed.

     Tony shook his head. “Damned if I know. There’s a farm about a mile away where they raise goats. I’m sure that’s theirs. I’ll call her, tell her it’s here.” He strode back into the office and took a number from his planner. “Hey, Jenny? It’s Tony Walters.”

     “Yeah, Tony! What’s going on?”

     “I think I have one of your goats.” Tony looked out the office window to see Franklin and the goat play-butting each other in the front parking lot.

     “Uh, I don’t think so,” Jenny Sanders replied. “I’m pretty sure it’s not mine.”

     “Got to be.”

     “Tell you what – let me go count and I’ll call you back.” When they’d hung up, Tony walked out the door. Franklin came up, sat down beside him again, and the goat followed suit. It knocked its head into Tony’s knee a few times, then went back to the bale of hay, nibbling a little at a time. When one of the clients walked his horse by, the goat bleated at it, then returned to the hay. When the phone rang, Tony answered, “Short one, huh?”

     “Nope.” Tony couldn’t believe it. “It’s not mine, Tony. All of ours are here. Tell me something: What does this goat look like? Is it brown and white?”

     Tony looked at it again. “No. It’s mostly black. It’s got white ears and white feet, but the rest of it is black.”

     Jenny laughed. “All of ours are liver and white.”

     “Whose could it be?”

     “There’s a farm about six miles from here that . . .?”

     “Six miles?” Tony couldn’t believe that Franklin had gone six miles to get a goat.

     “Yep. Bob and Angela Moyers. Call them up and ask.” Jenny gave him the Moyers’ number before she hung up. Tony dialed and waited.

     “Hello,” a female voice barked.

     “Is this Mrs. Moyers?”

     “Yes. Who’s this?”

     “Mrs. Moyers, this is Tony Walters down at Cabrizzi Farms. How are you?”

     “I’m quite well, thanks. What can I do for you, Mr. Walters?”

     “Well, I’ve got this goat,” Tony started to laugh.

     “It wouldn’t be black and white, would it,” she chuckled.

     “Actually, it would. I got your number from Jenny. I was hoping . . .”

     “That it was mine? Yeah, probably. We’ve got almost a hundred and fifty of them down here, but that one, she’s a real problem.” She stopped, then said, “How did she get down there?”

     “You won’t believe it, but my dog brought her home.” Now Tony was laughing outright. “What do you want me to do with her?”

     “Keep her. She’s too damn much trouble.” Before Tony could protest, the line went dead.

     Now he wasn’t laughing. Keep her? I’ve got a damn goat now? He watched Franklin and the goat playing in the overhang of the barn roof. The big dog seemed content, even happy, to have the goat around. Malcolm wandered up, grinning. “So? Find out who she belongs to?”

     “Yeah.” Tony shook his head. “They don’t want her back.”

     “Are you trying to tell me that we’re keeping her?” Malcolm’s eyebrows peaked upward.

     “Looks like it.”

     “That could be good.” Malcolm looked like he was giving something serious consideration.

     “What are you thinking?” Tony was afraid it was something that was no good.

     “Well, lots of breeding facilities and racing facilities keep goats. They calm the horses. No one’s exactly sure why or how, but it works. Maybe this is a good thing.” They watched as the goat tried to pull a piece of siding off the side of the building. Before Tony could run toward her to stop her, she’d moved on to a nylon rope tied to a cleat on the wall, pulling on it and trying to pull it down. She chewed on the end.

     “Looks like we’ll have to make a concerted effort to keep things picked up. And we’ll have to make sure all the clients know not to leave things lying around. All my life I’ve heard goats will eat anything.” Tony didn’t know what to think. He had a goat. Fantastic.

     Malcolm shook his head. “No. That’s not true. Sheep will eat anything. Goats are a little more discerning.” They watched while she ate a gum wrapper a client had dropped, then moved over to Tony’s truck and started to lick a tire. "But I could be wrong about that, I guess."

     “I have this feeling that trouble is brewing.” Before Tony could get the sentence completely out, Vic’s truck pulled up and the big man got out.

     “Hey, guys! What’s sha . . . what the hell?” Vic’s eyes went wide. “Is that a goat?”

     Tony nodded. “Yep. That’s a goat.”

     “What the fu . . . why is there a goat here?” Vic’s gaze went from the goat to the two men, then back to the goat.

     “It’s a long story. But I’m keeping her. Want to name her?” Tony chuckled.

     The goat looked up from the trash can she’d managed to knock over, then made a beeline to Vic. When she reached him, she pressed her face to his shin and just stood there. Malcolm was heaving with laughter. “Looks like you’ve got a new girlfriend.”

     Vic’s face turned purple. “Goddamn it, Tony, why do you keep getting these weird pets that try to assault me? Get this thing off me!” Vic was backing away, but the goat was keeping pace. It was a lost cause.

     “Why do you have to be so damn attractive to all the ladies?” Tony laughed, and Malcolm started to howl.

     “Damn it, I just came over here to ask you something!”

     “Yeah, what’s that, Hunky McHunkster?” Tony gasped, doubled over.

     “Laura wanted to know if you guys want to come to dinner.”

     “Sure!” Tony was trying to control himself. “What are we having?”

     Vic opened the truck door, climbed in, and before he slammed the door shut, he yelled, “GOAT!”