"You'll Wear It... Or You'll Be Punished."~ Lee Savino's Rocky Mountain Wild

I have Lee Savino visiting today with an excerpt from her new book Rocky Mountain Wild. I don't know about you, but this scene with Calum makes me absolutely swoon.

“How does it feel?”
“I don’t know.” The plug wasn’t painful, it just felt wrong. Embarrassment flooded her cheeks. He’d put something in her bumhole! And one day he’d put his cock in there. She reached back to touch the plug and he caught her wrist.
“No, Phoebe. Leave it in.”
“But—”
“You’ll wear it as long as I say, or you’ll be punished.” He pulled her up to sit in his lap and she did so gingerly, angling herself so she sat on her side and not on the plug.
“But why?” She pouted.
“Because I said so, and good Phoebes do what I tell them to. It’ll remind you to do your exercises, and that you do these things to please me.” He squeezed her. “Besides, I like the thought of your bottom squeezing around the plug all day, and you remembering me putting it in.
You’re mine, lass. All mine; every bit of you.
“Now, back over my lap. You’ve been a good girl, and I’m going to give you your reward.”

Phoebe Wilson has had a hard life. On her own from a young age, and cursed with a club foot, she answers an ad to work for Scottish homesteader Calum MacDonnell, thinking to prove herself with work. What she doesn't expect is a fierce mountain man, lonely and wild, with a soft side. Even more surprising is when he takes it on himself to protect her from her past, and care for her. Calum insists on treating her like a little child, feeding and bathing her and coddling her like a little girl, and disciplining her when she puts herself in harm’s way. But as winter comes, the threat from Phoebe's past closes in and Calum's own demons surface. Can their love for each other win in the end? Is Phoebe strong enough to let Calum care for her as his wee one? 

The Rocky Mountain Bride Series follows the lives of mail order brides and the strong frontier men who take them in hand. This stand-alone book is set in the 1860s Wild West and contains domestic discipline scenes, including over-the-knee spankings, age play elements, and anal punishment. 

This is Lee's 6th book in the Rocky Mountain Bride Series. You can find the rest on her author page!

Author Bio

Bestselling author Lee Savino has grandiose plans for world domination, but most days can’t find her wallet or her keys, so she stays in and writes. She's super excited about partnering with Blushing Books to publish her erotic Westerns, and hopes you are enjoying her characters as much as she does.  

If you want more dominance and discipline in the Wild West, check out the rest of her bestselling Rocky Mountain Bride series. Mail order brides, hot cowboys, sex and spankings, along with action-packed storylines about strong women and the rough men who love them.

Check out her website to download a free book or to say hi: www.leesavino.com.

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A Very McKay St. Patrick's Day

Today happens to be St. Patrick's Day. The actual holiday. I'm not sure about your area, but in our neck of the woods towns start with the annual parades in the beginning of March.

To me it feels like a season, much like the Christmas season. March hits, the weather becomes even more unpredictable than normal here in the northeast, and spring is just around the corner. You can have snow one day and mild enough temperature to open windows the next. 

As I may have mentioned in the past, I am not a cold weather bear. I used to think summer was my favorite time of year, but more and more I think it might be this time of year. We start to shake out of the deep freeze, the daylight lingers a little later everyday, and when you step outside you can smell the weather beginning to change.

I don't mind the rain and the slush when I start to see the buds sprouting on the trees. Watch out now, I almost got poetic!

(Mr. McKay just informed me that we might get snow Sunday night and suddenly I have lost all of my romanticism about this time of year.)

Enough about the weather! I want to tell you why I love St. Patrick's Day. Yes, technically it's a religious holiday, it shouldn't really be a drunken bender or an excuse to dye things green.

To me, it's the time every year that we get to gather our friends and eat and talk (and yes, even drink) without any other agenda. Christmas is busy and there is the stress of gifts. New Year's is a big giant thing that everyone needs to celebrate. Valentine's Day you're stressed about having a date—or not having a date. Thanksgiving there needs to be turkey, and most likely it's celebrated with family. 

St. Patrick's Day is no stress. You don't have to feel guilty about not calling your mom, or not picking out the perfect gift. You should unearth the one green shirt you own and come to our house hungry.

We had our first St. Patrick's day party the year we moved in. We had it on whatever day St. Patrick's Day fell on. It was a Wednesday. We invited too many people over to our too small house and we all shoved in here and played music and talked too loud and drank too much and had a great time.

We did that for a few years and then we started getting jobs we couldn't go to with hangovers. So we moved it to a Saturday in March. Since then we have gotten our menu and set-up down to a science. We still invite too many people and we never have enough chairs, but no one seems to care.

We have the best friends in the world, they always come with dessert and whiskey in tow. Mr. McKay makes corned beef. We have sandwiches and drink beer until the wee hours of the morning.

I thought I was crazy to admit it before, but secretly my favorite part of this time is making party preparations with my husband. We started throwing this party in our much leaner days. We had no business throwing a party, we were trying to buy party food when we couldn't even pay our electric bill. But somehow we always pulled it off. 

It's become almost something of a game. Mr. McKay makes at least five corned beefs. Do you know the kind of manipulations we go through to get five corned beefs? We have multiple shopper discount cards to multiple food stores and we feel a little bit like we're breaking the law. 

We went on our annual shopping trip last night armed with coupons and discount cards from my mother in law. I held the flyer in my lap that clearly stated "limit 1 per family" for this particular corned beef sale.

We made our plan before entering. "Let's walk in separately. I'll meet you back by the meat, then we'll check out separately. Meet me back here," Mr. McKay instructed.

I nodded in agreement. I don't think food stores stick to their limits so ardently, but why tempt fate?

Give us the sale and no one gets hurt.

"This must be what robbers feel like!" he added, giving me a grin.

"Are you getting a rush over swindling the corned beef sale?"

"I am a little bit. Are you?" He looks at me expectantly.

"Not really, but you're cute."

We went to two stores and got four corned beefs for a fraction of the regular price. Mr. McKay kept calling it "Our Corned Beefery Caper". I have no idea why he was calling it that but it cracked me up every time.

On the way home we stopped for ice cream, which we ate for dinner because we were already breaking all the rules, why not just go all out?

Today I'm cleaning bathrooms, which isn't all that fun. Tomorrow we'll clear the clutter and dust. And then Saturday morning we'll start moving the furniture so we can fit the maximum amount of people in our little home.

Every year our friends show up with more children. And then leave a little earlier. A sign of the times. We're all getting older—but we still have a few holdouts that don't mind polishing off the bottle of whiskey with me at 2am. I hope we still have this party every year, even when we're old and gray. By then we'll have to make it a lunch. Maybe a brunch. We could make corned beef hash! (I can still drink whiskey, right?)

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When Kinksters Sell Their Houses

Lately, I have been into home improvement shows and house hunting shows. We probably are nowhere close to owning our own house, but I love looking at the houses other people might buy. Sometimes they are in an interesting city. Sometimes they are such complete weirdos we spend the whole time making fun of the people on the show. 

It's the little things. 

Mr. McKay gets roped into watching these shows with me occasionally, he might even admit he likes them.

Anyway, the other night when we were having dinner we were watching some show about house hunting in Alaska. Very cool. I will probably never make it to Alaska, so I may as well check out three houses some couple may or may not buy when looking to relocate there. 

Their budget was like 2 million dollars or something and the houses they were looking at were huge and on acres of land or on a lake. I got up to refill my glass of water and Mr. McKay yells from the next room, "A sex room! These people have a sex room!"

Say what?

When I come back in, he's paused the show (the wonders of modern technology). "Like a BDSM dungeon?"

"Well, it's empty, because the people aren't living there. But look, this is a sex room, what else would you call this?"

He starts it up and the realtor brings this couple into the master bedroom. It's gorgeous and spacious, there are big windows with views. He opens the door to a massive walk-in closet. And then, oh look, enter the closet and walk to the back, there's another door. It opens to a room behind the master bedroom. The only way in or out is through the door in the closet. 

It's like Narnia up in here.

I'm all, "Whaat?"

He's like, "I know, right?" With a giant grin on his face. "That could be useful."

"Is it soundproofed?" I want to know. Why aren't these people asking the realtor the right questions? A list of things runs through my head. Is this room soundproofed, are these beams in the ceiling decorative or can they bear weight? How close are the neighbors exactly?

The wife seems a bit put off by this mystery room. She calls it odd and says she doesn't understand. The husband declares he can make it a man cave. Really dude? A man cave? You're both unadventurous idiots. And really, you're going to put a pool table in there and then invite your guy friends up to your bedroom to walk through your closet? Okay.

They go see some other house that was kind of boring and forgettable. Then house number three, again, into the master bedroom. The king size bed faces massive windows with a view of the gorgeous Alaskan scenery. And then you turn to look at the giant master bathroom. Which you can see into because there is a picture window separating the living space from the bathroom space.

http://mundo-gisele-morgado.tumblr.com/

A GIANT PICTURE WINDOW. Um, what?

Like, instead of a regular wall, just a wall of glass, bringing the bath tub, toilet, and shower into full view.

The realtor said it was so you could still see the view even from the bathroom. But I immediately had visions of some Alaskan rich dude with his sex slaves bathing for his pleasure (oh, like I'm the only one who went there?).

The couple said if they bought the house they would have to take that window out, which I can't blame them. I'm close to my husband and we share small quarters. It's inevitable that he would pop into the bathroom to get something while I am showering or brushing my teeth, but no one needs an up close view of anyone going about their business in the bathroom. That's why there are doors and locks. Even I have to draw the line in the kinky sand on that one.

This horribly bland couple bought the middle unforgettable house-- even though I was shouting "Sex room! Sex room!" from my couch, they didn't listen to me.

Things I learned from TV this week, some houses are built for kinky people. And Alaska might be the land of the kinksters.

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Imogen's First Kiss~ Ashe Barker Visits!

I have Ashe Barker visiting today with a snippet from her new book, The Highwayman's Lady!

Hi Casey, and thank you so much for inviting me over to your blog to give a shout out about The Highwayman’s Lady. I’m really excited about this story, Gray is a hero I’ve been hatching for a while now, and it just reached the point where he had to emerge. He’s a rogue and no one could mistake him for a gentleman, but I hope you’ll love him as much as I do.



Here’s the blurb…
After the death of her mother, twenty-year-old Imogen Bennett faces the prospect of being coerced into marriage by a scheming relative, but fate intervenes when a masked highwayman accosts her on the road. Desperate to escape the unwanted wedding, Imogen pleads with the mysterious, handsome rogue to rescue her.

Alistair Graham is a proud Scotsman who rebelled against British rule, and since the defeat of the highlanders at Culloden he has taken to robbing rich Englishmen travelling through Scottish lands. He is no gentleman, but he is certainly not a man who would ignore a young woman’s pleas for help, and he agrees to do what he can to assist the beautiful girl he has waylaid.

Imogen finds herself drawn to Alistair, and though he warns her that he expects a woman’s complete obedience both in bed and out of it, she cannot resist offering her virgin body to him. He takes her hard and thoroughly, leaving her utterly spent yet still aching for more, and when her shock at her own wantonness leads her to speak disrespectfully to him he bares her bottom and punishes her soundly.

A highwayman is no suitable match for a lady, however, and Alistair fears that her association with him can only put them both in danger, so he makes her promise that she’ll tell no one about what took place between them and then ensures that she is delivered safely to the home of her honourable cousin in Kirkleven. Yet despite her best efforts to put Alistair out of her mind forever, in her heart Imogen knows she will always belong to the man who rescued her, mastered her, and made her his. But will her highwayman ever return to lay claim to his lady?

Publisher’s Note: The Highwayman’s Lady is an erotic romance novel that includes spankings, sexual scenes, anal play, elements of BDSM, and more. If such material offends you, please don’t buy this book.

And an excerpt…
He steps back from me, just a fraction, but enough to enable him to cup my chin again in his free hand. He tilts up my chin and brushes his lips over mine.
“Open your mouth, Imogen.” The command is delivered in a low, soft tone, but I have no illusions about his requirement that I obey. I want to obey.
I part my lips and he slides his tongue between, angling his head against mine to deepen the kiss. I am stunned, had not anticipated this. I had always assumed kissing to be a mere touch of the lips—chaste and essentially dry. This is not. This is hot and wet, intimate in a way that both offers and demands. The sensation of being breached in this way is incredibly compelling. I want to nibble his invading tongue, twist my own around it, suck on it.
Dare I? Would he mind?
Unable to resist I stroke my tongue against his, tentative at first, then gathering my courage to play as he plunges further into my mouth. His tongue dances around mine, licking, tasting and I respond with an enthusiasm I could not have dreamed I might. This is my first kiss and it is truly wondrous.
I am lost in the moment, focused entirely on the sensual dance between our tongues. Gray continues to stroke my wet core, but without warning he shifts the angle of his caress. He locates a spot where the sensations seem to be at their most intense and he circles there, increasing the pressure as I struggle to remain on my feet. My knees start to buckle and he drops his hand from my face to encircle my waist. He takes a half step forward. I am compelled to retreat. He moves again, easing me the few feet backwards until I connect with the bed. He leans forward and I have no option but to sit.
He breaks the kiss just long enough to issue his next commands. “Lie down on your back and spread your legs wide. Take hold of the headboard and do not let go or I will tie your wrists to it.”
“There is no need to bind me to the bed, Gray. I… I do not wish to leave.”
He chuckles. “I know that, little one.” He offers no further explanation, but as he has resumed kissing me, I am not minded to pursue the matter either. I do as I am told, bending my knees and spreading my thighs as wide as I am able. I curl my fingers around the slats of the bedstead and hang on.
He slips his hand between my legs again, going straight for that special place. He rubs, presses, squeezes. I break the kiss to let out a squeal.
It hurts, almost. Yet there is pleasure too, intense, hot and needy, curling through my body, which spasms and convulses in ways I can barely comprehend. Something is happening to me, something wild, wonderful, and quite terrifying. Gray increases the pressure, to the point of real pain.
“Do not take your release until I give permission.”
I am baffled. “Sir? I do not understand.”
“I will tell you when you may come.”
“Have I done something wrong? I am sorry, I do not understand what is happening. You are hurting me…” I could ask him to stop, he said that I may, if I was to become scared. I am scared but still I do not say the words. My fear of his stopping is far greater than my fear of what he is about to do, or of what more he may have in mind for me.
The pain stops. His fingers are gentle again, stroking through my moist folds. He had been leaning over me, his lips against mine, but now the bed shifts as he moves to kneel between my thighs. I do not need to see him to know that his eyes are on me, perusing my most secret places, spread wide for his enjoyment—just as he told me, exactly as he requires.
“So pretty, Imogen, such a sweet, pink little quim. And mine. You are a virgin, yes?”
I nod.
“There will be pain but it will be quick and soon over. Then comes the pleasure. You want the pleasure, do you not, Imogen?”
Again, I nod, drawing my tongue across lips, which are dry suddenly. “Please, Gray, I want it now. I am ready.”
“I think not… not quite ready yet. But you will be.” He presses my knees further apart and upward toward my chest.
I have no time to reflect on the vulnerability of my position, nor on the fact that whilst I am naked and spread out on the bed, he remains fully clothed as far as I am aware. Any protest I might have made and in truth I have to doubt there would have been so much as a whimper, is swept away by the wave of pure sensation he unleashes next.
He uses his thumbs to part the lips of my quim, then leans down to plunge his tongue inside. I cannot see what he is doing, but it must be his tongue, for nothing else could deliver such sweet intensity. Soft yet probing, the intimate intrusion sending spirals of raw lust spinning through me.
“Gray… sir!” I exclaim, my fingers gripping the headboard as though to anchor me to this earth.

Buy Link
Grab The Highwayman’s Lady now on Amazon

Rafflecopter Competition
To celebrate the release of The Highwayman’s Lady I’m running a competition. You could win a $10 Amazon Gift Card – just join in my Rafflecopter. The competition finishes on 14 March so don’t hang about.

a Rafflecopter giveaway

More about me:
I’ve been an avid reader of fiction for many years, erotic and other genres. I still love reading, the hotter the better. But now I have a good excuse for my guilty pleasure – research. 
I tend to draw on my own experience to lend colour, detail and realism to my plots and characters. An incident here, a chance remark there, a bizarre event or quirky character, any of these can spark a story idea. 
I live in the North of England, on the edge of the Brontë moors. When not writing – which is not very often these days - my time is divided between my role as resident taxi driver for my teenage daughter, and caring for a menagerie of dogs, tortoises.  And a very grumpy cockatiel.  
I have around thirty titles on general release with publishers on both sides of the Atlantic, and I have several more in the pipeline. I write M/f, M/M, and occasionally ring the changes with a little M/M/f. All my books feature BDSM. I write explicit stories, always hot, but they offer far more than just sizzling sex. I like to read about complex characters, and compelling plots, so that’s what I write too. 
I have a pile of story ideas still to work through, and keep thinking of new ones at the most unlikely moments, so you can expect to see a lot more from me.

Let’s keep in touch. Here’s how to stalk me…
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A Risky Rendevous~ #WipItUp Wednesday

It's Wednesday again! Time to Wip It Up! I'm sharing more from my fourth installment of The Masters of Fetishes series. Check out books 1-3.

This is from book 4, with the working title of Claimed. If you miss the last snippet you can find it here. This picks up where the last one left off. 

“Please, please Master, I’ll take anything you want to give me.”

He smiled then, gave her a truly genuine grin. “There it is. Was that so hard?”

If he only knew. Danielle Bradshaw did not beg. She certainly did not call some man Master. But something about this made it okay. Something about him. Another piece of her armor slipped away, and something else slid into place making her feel more centered.

“Please, Master,” she begged again in lieu of answering his question. Did he really want to know how hard it was for her? He wasn’t her therapist. But it was why she stopped going to her local BDSM dungeon. She craved to surrender, but none of the men were worth surrendering to. She’d even opened her options and tried a few women. 

She knew it was her, something deep down that wouldn’t let go of her strongly guarded control. Even when she quit the dungeon, she didn’t stop trying. Her rendezvous were more private and riskier than they had been in the past. That’s how she came about having a weekly session in a hotel room with this man she found on the internet. They used aliases, she wasn’t supposed to know his real name. But she did. 

Make sure to check out all the other offerings this week!

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