Asteria – In Love With The Prince by Tanya Korval

AsteriaInLoveWithThePrinceSizedBlurb

His Lover
UN translator Lucy Snow sneaks into an embassy party and meets Prince Jagor, heir to the throne of the fabulously rich kingdom of Asteria. Their initial steamy kiss isn’t enough for the prince: he offers her a job as his personal aide and in the glamorous hotels and casinos of Monaco, they engage in a secret love affair.

His Slave
But in Asteria, women are ‘owned’ by their men, both in and out of the bedroom. Loving Jagor will mean accepting his collar…and his every command.

His Princess
Lucy must overcome the queen, the media and the will of the Asterian people if she’s to be accepted as Jagor’s bride. And when the royal family is plunged into danger, Lucy must become stronger than she ever dreamed…

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Extract:

A long, lazy afternoon passed that way, with the only interruptions the occasional drone of an aircraft and quick trips downstairs to grab a cold drink. I showered and changed in time for Jagor arriving home, throwing on one of the dresses Patricia had brought: a halter-neck grey number that finished just above the knee. When Jagor walked in, I ran up and threw my arms around him, letting him lift me off the ground and spin me around. It was the most relaxed I’d been since before we broke up. I may have whooped.

“You’ve unwound,” he smiled. “Good.” He pulled me close, my body molding to his. “Come.”

He said a quick goodbye to the retinue and closed the door on them, then pulled me towards the bedroom.

“Right now?” I said, a little taken aback.

“Right now.” He closed the door behind us. The bed was emperor size, an ornate iron frame with luxuriant gray and black bedding. He picked me up like a doll and threw me, taking my breath away, and I sprawled on the luxuriant softness, gasping. He yanked his tie off and hurled it aside, his eyes never leaving mine. I could feel the raw lust radiating off him, the urgency to be naked with me, and a hot thrill spiked straight down to my groin. He tore his jacket off and hurled it aside. I could see his chest heaving under his shirt as he fumbled with the buttons at the neck, growing frustrated. Suddenly he ripped, buttons flying, and then he was yanking it down his arms and throwing it to the floor.

I was half-sitting against the pillows. He grabbed one ankle and pulled, and I slid down the bed towards him with a delighted squeal. Then he was on top of me, bare-chested and almost growling, hunkering down to devour me. His lips found mine, one of those hot, hungry kisses where you’re panting into it.

“I’ve been thinking about you all day,” he murmured. His hands were gathering the hem of my dress, lifting the skirt up my legs. He wrenched it up my body and I arched my back to help him. My body still felt sun-kissed and warm; the dress was a needless distraction and when he pulled it over my head it was almost a relief. How different from when we’d met, when stripping off had seemed shocking. I don’t think I’m a librarian anymore, went through my head.

He didn’t pull the dress all the way off, though. He left it bunched around my wrists, and then he twisted it, so that the fabric bound my arms together above my head. He smiled down at me, one huge hand planted firmly on the bundle of cloth. I tugged experimentally with my wrists. I was held fast. I looked meaningfully up at my bonds and then at him.

“We will improvise, for now,” he told me. “When we get home, I have more suitable things.”

“More suitable?” I was almost panting.

“More suitable to restrain a slave.” He grinned.

“I’m not your slave yet,” I protested. I was starting to learn that I liked to protest. The safeword ring made a lot of sense to me, now.

He reached under me with one hand and unfastened my bra, then lazily flicked the loose cups up so my breasts were bare. “You will be, Lucy,” he told me.

He lowered his head, his tongue flicking out to lap at my breasts. It felt like they’d absorbed the heat of the sun and swelled, until they were groaning and aching for him. Each touch of his tongue sent a new stream of pleasure rippling down through me: they linked and joined, forming a river. I writhed arched on the bed, trying to get my nipple under his mouth, but he moved with me. The breast he was focusing on grew shiny with his licking, an island in the center cruelly untouched. Then he started to do the same with the other breast. “Please!” I begged, figuring that was what he wanted.

He lifted his head for a moment and smiled at me, his eyes gleaming. Then he returned to his ministrations, leaving me to groan and grind my ass against the bed in frustration. I could feel the heat rising inside me, but he wouldn’t let it rise to that magic point I longed for. Long minutes passed, his tongue sometimes soft as silk, sometimes as firm as fingers, until I was moaning and thrashing my head. Then, at last, he tongued my nipples, watching me carefully. I gasped, my head coming up off the bed, gritting my teeth, ready to—

He stopped. Then with his free hand, he pinched that super-sensitive, slickened nipple and my moans grew shrill, the pleasure somehow turning to pain and then back again, hovering on the edge—

He stopped again, and now my whole body was throbbing, as if he’d locked in my arousal, leaving me a panting, raging mess. He used his free hand to push my panties down, leaving them midway down my thighs. He ran his hand down my body, from my cheek to my breasts, my thighs, my sex. He cupped me there, using his hand to open my thighs, and then plunged two fingers inside me.

“You’re wet,” he told me. “I want to fuck you right now….”

“Yes!”

‘…But not yet, I think.”

He twitched his fingers, just a tiny movement, and I nearly came, right there. He smiled at my helplessness and looked around the room for a moment. “I’m concerned that you may become noisy,” he told me. “Not that the guards would come in, but it’s not fitting for an exkella to be heard screaming.” He retrieved something from the floor with his foot and then grabbed it when it was close enough. His tie. He straddled me, his weight pinning me to the bed, and released my hands. I couldn’t see what he was doing, but I assumed he was going to use the tie to bind me. Okay, I could go for that.

He finished and lifted himself off me again, his biceps flexing in a way that stirred something dark in me. The knowledge that he was stronger than me: not just a bit, but hopelessly outclassing me, that I was helpless in his grasp….

He showed me what he’d done. He’d tied a fat knot in the middle of the tie. “Open your mouth,” he told me. I blinked up at him for a second, not understanding, but opened wide.

The tie slid into my mouth, the knot filling it and pressing my tongue down. He pulled the ends behind my head and tied them tight. “What? What are you—” I asked. Only it didn’t come out like that. It came out as a muffled, garbled mess. He’d gagged me.

I fingered the safeword ring.

“Now,” he smiled, and with one hand pinning my wrists to the bed again, he slid so that he was lying alongside me, so that he could gaze down the length of my naked body.

His hand cupped my sex again and I gasped and closed my thighs instinctively. As he thrust two fingers into me again, the edges of his hand rubbed on my legs, deliciously hard against my soft skin. “Mmmf!” I moaned, my head going back.

He set up a rhythm with his fingers, stroking in and out of my tightness. Red spirals of fire twisted up my body, making me grind and writhe: I wanted to grab his hand and pull it deeper, to move it faster, to be in control. My wrists yanked against the fabric holding them, and I wasn’t just playing, but the thick twists of cloth were perfect: soft enough not to hurt, tight enough to hold me fast. His hand, pinning the fabric to the bed, might as well have been a steel girder. I’d never understood bondage before. Even that night in Monaco when he’d tied me to the stool, I’d thought it was about stopping me from escaping. It wasn’t – or at least, not this time. It wasn’t to restrain me while he did something I didn’t want. It was to restrain me while he did something I wanted too much.

His fingers moved faster…but deliberately just a little slower than my body craved. My eyes rolled back in my head, my eyelids fluttering. I could only wait and hope that he’d take me over the edge, and in the meantime hang on for the ride.

At first, I stayed silent: I had it in my head that the gag was to remind me to be quiet. After a few minutes of teasing, I couldn’t help it: I tried to beg him – please let me come. The garbled moan made him smile: but more than that, it felt good. I’d found I could breathe easily enough around the gag, the knot soft and springy enough to fill my mouth when I let it but not to block my air. I could feel myself panting hotly around it, and as his thrusts started to pick up speed I started to groan, to beg, to plead, and eventually to curse. Every shout was a release: it kept the tension from becoming too much. It wasn’t about keeping me quiet: it was about leaving me free to scream.

When I was a bucking, twisting wreck, he gently slid his fingers from me and I relaxed, thinking it was over. He moved up to my hands and I closed my eyes, thinking he was going to release them.

The soft whistle of his belt sliding through the loops. Then a jerk on the cloth around my hands, and my arms were pulled straight up above my head. When I heard him walk away, I looked up at my hands, confused.

He’d used his belt to tie my dress to the iron bed frame. The leather cinched the fabric tight, holding my wrists just as firmly as before: but now he had his hands free.

He wasn’t done, though. He pulled my panties the rest of the way off and threw them aside. He pulled one leg out diagonally so that my ankle touched the iron bedpost. He shucked off his pants, passed one cuff through the iron frame and around my ankle and tied it tight. I watched as he pulled my other leg far apart, spreading me wide, and used the other pant cuff to tie my other ankle, leaving no slack. I was stretched out, arms straight above my head and legs open, like an upside-down “Y’.

I stared at him as he took off his jockey shorts, his cock already erect. He didn’t come back to the bed. He just stood there, naked, and watched me. I could feel his eyes roving over my nude, bound body, even as I gazed at his naked form. The sun was setting, bathing the room in a deep orange glow and leaving dark pools of shadow. I could see him breathing, the curves of his hairless chest flexing as he watched me.

I was helpless on the bed. This man was going to take me.

My gaze roamed over his shoulders, so wide and solid compared to mine. Down over his muscled arms, the forearms traced by veins. His torso was lean, tight with power. I knew how it would feel, when he thrust into me, when he used that power to root himself within me. And then as my eyes sank lower, I saw he was holding himself, stroking his erection as he watched me.

It’s like he’s already enjoying me, I thought. The conqueror, gazing on the captured maiden before he ravishes her. This man will take me, and there’s nothing I can do about it.

I watched him swell and grow, watched the effect my body had on him. I tugged at my bonds, wanting him now, but that was the point: he was going to enjoy me as he wanted.

He must have made me wait, thrashing and twisting, for several minutes, until my body ached for his touch. He stepped closer, his cock straining upwards, every muscle in his body hard as rock, and rolled on the condom. He climbed onto the bed between my thighs and I waited for him to enter me, feeling the emptiness like a physical pain. But he placed his hands on my thighs…and lowered his head between them.

GOD! My back arched off the bed as his tongue caressed my inner thigh: circling inwards, unstoppable, towards my core. After so long without touch, every sensation was hyper-acute. I let out a long moan, muffled by the gag.

He stopped and spoke, without lifting his head, so that the words themselves touched my aching, desperate sex like a phantom caress. “You know what I’m going to do now, Lucy,” he told me.

Yes, yes! I thought wildly.

“But you need to learn that even as an exkella, you come when I say so.”

Was he serious? If he licked me there I was going to come instantly.

“You’re going to hold yourself back. You are not to come until I tell you. Do you understand?” He lifted his head to look at me. I craned my head up and stared into those dark green eyes that promised so much pleasure…if I played by his rules. I nodded.

He began.

I’d thought it was sweet agony before, but it had been nothing compared to this. His expert tongue traced my lips then dived inside, parting me, and I felt the wave of pleasure rushing over me, threatening to tip me over the edge. I strained and panted, a sweat breaking out across my body, leaving me gleaming. He was licking me steadily, the pleasure stacking up behind the dam I’d built. I thrashed and groaned and tossed my head, my hair sticking wetly to my forehead; had to, to release the pressure inside me. But even with that safety valve, I knew I couldn’t last; I was being pushed, inch by inch, towards the edge, towards a climax like I’d never known.

His tongue thrust and drove and when his fingers joined it, circling my throbbing bud, my whole body went tense. I didn’t dare move; I was like a violin string, stretched tighter, tighter, my nails digging into my palms, my wrists and ankles wrenching at their bonds….

He lifted himself and in one smooth movement moved up my body, guiding himself into me with one hand while the other tangled in my hair. “Come,” he said simply, and thrust deep inside me.

My world exploded.

A deep shudder went up my body from my groin to my head, the feel of him entering me reverberating through me. My wrists yanked hard against the cloth, my body spasming under him as the climax robbed me of speech: I couldn’t even moan. I felt his lips on mine, sweet with my juices, the silk tie pressing into my mouth in a way that made me melt.

I am his slave to control

I am his slave

I am his

I felt my heels banging on the bed: I hadn’t even been aware of my legs trying to kick. I couldn’t think. I was lost in dark, throbbing pleasure and I kissed him as if his lips were the only link back to sanity.

I flopped on the bed as the orgasm rolled away like a thundercloud. It had never, ever been like that before. He waited until he was sure I was back with him; then he started to move. Slow, glorious thrusts like ocean waves, the pleasure rolling over me. If I’d been able to, I would have wrapped my legs around him, urged him on, pressed myself hard against him. But he was in control: I had to wait and accept the pace he set, and that made it…exquisite.

His naked body was like a machine above me, hulking and powerful, driving into me again and again, muscles bunching and flexing, his lips on my mouth, my ear, my shoulder. I gasped and moaned and eventually cried out through the gag as a second orgasm washed over me. Seconds later, he was pumping almost savagely into me as he came as well.

There was a moment when we just stared at each other: him still atop me, taking his weight on his elbows, me gazing up at him, the gag still in my mouth. He’d rarely been so open to me, so clearly readable, as in that second: not since he’d told me about his brother. I could see the love he had for me, and it made me ache with the need to wrap my arms around him.

He could see it in my eyes, too. His fingers worked at the back of my head, then the gag was out of my mouth and we were kissing, soft and gentle: I’m here for you. I could feel him loosening the belt above my head and as soon as it was free, I pulled the dress off my wrists and hugged him.

The room was almost dark now, the sun just disappearing below the horizon. We didn’t mind: it was comfortable, cuddling in the darkness. I was so intent on holding him, when he went to move away I clung to him, panicked.

“I have to untie your legs,” he told me gently, and I flushed. He massaged my ankles and then spooned me, his huge, hard body pressed tight against mine.

“I love you,” he said, and the shock of hearing it made me worry that I’d imagined it.

“I love you too.” I nestled even closer against him.

“Do you still want this?” There was that note in his voice that I remembered from the limo, all that time ago. That hint of vulnerability, the concern that I might not.

I looked down at my sweat-soaked, still-trembling body. “You have to ask?”

“Not just the sex. Being owned. Are you sure?”

I tried to ask myself the question honestly. It wasn’t so long ago that I’d been horrified by the idea of slaves: the notion of giving myself to someone, becoming theirs: it would have seemed crazy even a month before. But as I dug deep within myself, feeling for the truth, there wasn’t even any uncertainty. It was all about the person, I realized. In Jagor, I’d found someone I wanted to be with forever: I knew he’d never hurt me, knew he’d love and care for me. I wanted to commit to him, but it was more than that. There was something missing, deep inside me, something that maybe had always been missing without me being aware of it. When I was with him – and when I wore his collar – I was complete. I didn’t just want to be owned by him. I needed to be.

“Yes,” I said. “I’m sure.”

*   *   *

Tanya_Blog_and_web_200x300I live in London, in one part of what was once a rather nice Victorian townhouse.

Things I like:

Coffee, both making it myself and discovering new places to drink it in London

Alcohol – wait, that makes me sound like an alcoholic.  I don’t like ‘alcohol’, I like ‘certain drinks that happen to contain alcohol’.  Especially red wine.   I have a thing for small, dark bars lit by candlelight where there’s live music and you can sit in the shadows with a glass of something warm and mellow.
Sex, which I write about sometimes.
Men
Women

Tanya can be found:

Blog   *   Twitter  

Asteria – In Love With The Prince can be purchased:

Amazon.com   *   Amazon.co.uk   *   B&N  

Kobo   *   AllRomance

His Alone by Keta Diablo

Cleo has a problem. When she met Elliott, the maestro of Doms, eight months ago, he laid out the rules – no questions, no whining, and definitely no ties. But the lines blurred somewhere along the line and she crossed them. Now, she’s in over her head with feelings for he beautiful man she shouldn’t have. For her own preservation, she must end their weekly sessions and eat her heart in the process. But her Dom has problems of his own. Has he stepped over the same hazy boundaries?

*   *   *

Short Excerpt
* Warning: Explicit sex and language, including anal sex

A cool hand glides over my welts, the caress firm and gentle at the same time. “Slide your body up with your hips on the bed, your legs dangling.”

In a stupor, I obey. My clit aches and moisture pools between my thighs. For a brief moment, I wonder how and when Elliott became such an expert. I don’t want to think about it. An image of him delivering this exquisite torment to another woman causes my stomach to revolt. It bothers me he’s so cool, so in control of me physically and mentally. I can’t help but wonder what trips his trigger more, the dominant/submissive role or the power he holds because of his expert ministrations. Why should I care as long as he delivers? And Elliott always delivers in spades. But I do care. If I didn’t, the thought of him engaging in an infernal session with another wouldn’t make me nauseous.

The love-god spreads my knees with his hand and massages the soft flesh of my inner thigh. I’m panting with need, doing everything in my power to remain immobile, and he’s taking his sweet time. I know this is part of the control thing again. He intends to prolong my misery, and on occasion, he’s made me whimper and beg for his attention. One could only understand begging like a dog with their tongue hanging out after domination and possession by Elliott. It’s indescribable, comparable to an addict selling their body for . . .  One. More. Taste. Of.  Bliss. Elliott is my drug and my ecstasy.

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100+x+125-1Keta’s Bio:
Keta Diablo lives in the Midwest part of the country on six acres of woodland. When she isn’t writing or gardening she loves to commune with nature.
Keta is a multi-published author in both erotic romance and gay fiction. Her latest paranormal novel, Where The Rain Is Made, has been nominated for a Bookie Award by Authors After Dark in the Best e-novel category. Keta’s books have also received numerous Top Pick, Book of the Month, and Recommended Read awards from the top professional review sites.
You can find her on the net at the following places:
His Alone can be purchased:

 

 

The Submission of a Mafia Princess by Sandra Bunino

TheSubmissionofaMafiaPrincessSizedBlurb:

Duty, Respect and Honor thy Family…

As the only child of notorious mob boss, Tony “The Chief” Azzari, Antonietta lives her life by this mantra. Toni never questions the world where decisions are made for her, until she meets Harley-Davidson riding bad boy, Braxton Malone. Ever since their fiery first kiss all those years ago, she can’t deny the desire to submit to his control.

Brax always knew he’d be walking a dangerous tightrope if he fell for Toni, but like a moth to a flame, he couldn’t stay away. Barely surviving the wrath of the mob within an inch of his life, a scorned Brax has vowed never again to allow a woman under his skin.

Three years later, Brax is a top Dom at The Satin Rose Experience, New York’s posh BDSM club. When Toni shows up to fulfill her fantasy of submission before being forced into a loveless marriage, that vow is in just as much jeopardy as his life. Can they overcome the crimes of passion from their past and change Toni’s fate forever?

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Excerpt:

Toni lay in darkness, left alone with her thoughts and listening to the air flowing in through her nose and out through her mouth as Mia had instructed. Candles were one of Toni’s demands, especially when she discovered the submissive pose would push her ass high in the air. She couldn’t handle a harsh spotlight on her full cheeks. Even though she didn’t want to admit it, the dim lights also served the purpose of keeping her Dom of choice, Mick, as anonymous as possible. Not that she needed candles for that; his last minute demand was to blindfold her. Something that they hadn’t talked about while reviewing her soft and hard limits.

Toni wasn’t sure how much time had passed since Mia left the room after preparing her for the scene. She tested the restraints connected to her wrist bindings. Only an inch or two of slack allowed her to shift slightly on the sumptuous bed. Crisp linens cradled her shins, which were spread slightly. Deep breaths pushed her leather-covered breasts into the soft mattress. Her position of submission caused the leather strap between her backside cheeks to tighten against her sensitized folds.

The click of the lock and slide of the door caused every nerve ending to stand at attention. Heavy footfalls sounded on the suite’s plush carpeting. Concentrating on her breathing, Toni willed her heart to stay within the confines of her chest.

Inhale through her nose. Fingers caressed the back of her calf and eased her shoe off her right foot.

Exhale through her mouth. Her other shoe slid from her foot and a single finger drew a slow line down the bottom of her foot.

Inhale. The ticking of a zipper filled her ears.

Exhale. Shit, the breathing thing wasn’t working.

Inhale and hold. She squeezed her eyes shut. I can do this. I can do this.

The floodgates opened with a sobbing exhale. “Fire! Fire. I’m sorry. I can’t. I just…can’t. I thought I could. I thought it would be like before. But it’s not.”

“Before?” a low voice whispered. There was something about that voice.

“Yes, before. With Brax. I’m sorry. I just can’t, not like this.” A sob wracked her chest and tears soaked her blindfold.

“Shh, it’s okay,” Hands stroked her hair enveloping her into a comforting sensation that was as familiar as breathing. She picked her head up and perked her ears toward the source.

“Brax?”

“It’s me, Antonietta. You’re safe.”

The bed dipped next to her and the blindfold slipped off her head. She blinked a few times to focus her eyes.

“Hello, sunshine.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Come on, you know me a little better than to think I’d sit back idly and allow some random man have his way with you.”

Toni sat up on her heels causing her tethered hands to rise awkwardly.

“Here. Let’s get you out of these.” Brax unhooked the restraints from her bindings and took her hands into his. He untied the satin cords and slowly uncoiled them from her wrists. Rubbing them in between his hands, memories came flooding back. Back when she was his.

“You look beautiful,” he said, surveying her body.

She focused on his face, attempting to sear every feature of him into her memory: the planes and light stubble of his cheeks, his tousled hair, and his eyes that had always been able to read her like a book from the first day they met.

There was so much she wanted to say, but it was pointless. “One night is all we have.”

Brax took her chin between his thumb and index finger and pulled her close. “I know. Get up and get dressed.”

“Where are we going?”

“Your fantasy of submission starts now. No questions,” he said and playfully slapped her ass. Grabbed his jacket from the chair, he strode to the door before turning around.

“You have ten minutes. Wear a dress and these.” He pulled a flash of red and lace from the jacket’s pocket and tossed it to Toni.

Find THE SUBMISSION OF A MAFIA PRINCESS here:

Evernight Publishing / Amazon / AllRomance eBooks / Bookstrand

*   *   *

SandraAuthor Bio:

Sandra Bunino is a numbers crunching business professional by day who stays up past her bedtime thanks to her oh-so-sexy imagination. Who needs sleep, anyway? Sandra is constantly searching for different ways to achieve a heart-pumping, stomach-flipping, breath-catching reaction from her readers.

These days, Sandra lives on a wooded mountaintop not far from New York City with her family. She always looks forward to hearing from her readers and she may be contacted at sbunino@gmail.com. As a social media junkie in need of a ten-step program, you can also follow her on Facebook and Twitter (@sandrabunino).

Stalk Sandra here:

Website / Twitter / Facebook / Goodreads / Pinterest

Remember, following is sexy!

Lust & Longing by Charity Parkerson

Lust&LongingSizedLove is accidental. Love is what happens between Lust & Longing. A collection of Charity Parkerson’s erotic shorts, flash fiction, and a new story about giving into temptation. Being his Favorite Services Rendered Sarah’s Dirty Secret The-Adonis Top Cock Double the Sin A Twisted Christmas tale Blue Cheesecake Of Ghosts and Dreams Lust Ten tales of desire in one place.

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Excerpt:

“Lust & Longing”

“Have you been a good girl today?”

“Most likely not,” Celine answered, forcing a teasing note into her voice. Every night it was the same question by a different man.  Lucky for them she enjoyed a good spanking or she would never get wet again.

“I don’t think you have been,” he said, sounding remorseful. “I bet that you’ve been a bad girl. A really bad girl,” he added, sounding breathless.

Celine forced herself by will alone to not roll her eyes, since that was bad for business, but then she remembered that he couldn’t see her eyes due to the black mask that he insisted she wear before he would enter the room. She indulged in a very satisfying eye-roll as she flashed a wicked smile. “Well,”  she drawled. “I’ve been good at it. Does that count?”

“I’m afraid not,” he answered sounding regretful. “It looks like I’m going to have to teach you a lesson.”

Teach. That had always been her magic word. It induced all sorts of images of naughty black paddles and the intelligent man who had once taught her many lessons.

*   *   *

Author bio:

Charity Parkerson was born in Tennessee, where she still lives with her husband and two sons. She is the author of several books including twelve Amazon bestsellers. You can like her at http://www.facebook.com/authorCharityParkerson. Be sure to visit her at http://www.charityparkerson.com and you can read her blog at http://charity-thesinners.blogspot.com Her “Sinners series” was voted one of the top ten best books by an Indie author in 2011- Paranormal Romance Reads Her book “The Danger with Sinners” was named “Best Book by an Indie author in 2012” by Paranormal Reads Reviews and made finalist for Favorite Paranormal Romance of 2012 in the Australian Romance Reader’s Association Awards. She was named as one of the top three Indie authors of 2012- Ebookbuilders She is a member of The Paranormal Romance Guild, is a Goodreads moderator, a member of Coffee Time Romance, and co-host of The Melissa Craig and Charity Parkerson show. She won author of the week in August of 2011, and is a four-time winner of The Mistress of the Darkpath. You can follow her on Twitter @https://twitter.com/CharityParkerso

Charity can be found:

Website   *   Blog   *   Facebook Fanpage   *   Twitter

Lust & Longing can be purchased:

Amazon   *   B & N