Friday, July 20, 2018

#FirstChapterFriday - Rand: Son of Tallav by @CailinBriste



Rand: Son of Tallav 
By Cailin Briste

Universal Buy Link:  https://books2read.com/rand 

Two shamed souls, a mutual enemy and an attraction they can't control...

Randolph Meryon is a man no woman can resist despite the whip he brandishes. Compelled to return home after his sister’s death, he struggles to fit new responsibilities into the hedonistic lifestyle he prefers to live. It’s a task he finds difficult enough without adding in the tangle of unanswered questions his sister has left behind and the sugar-cookie sweet nanny caring for his niece. He hasn’t had a taste of sweet in a very long time.

Jen O'Malley, shunned by her family, struggles to find work without their backing, meeting barriers wherever she turns. A position as nanny with the scandal-riddled Meryons seems like a lifeline. She’s relieved until she arrives and becomes enmeshed in a web of intrigue, unable to discern the identity of the spider at the center.

Chapter One

Briarcliff, Tallav
The slender slice of moon did little to light the edge of the cliff, over which the desperate bleating of a lamb sounded. Rhiannon, Tallav’s second moon, had yet to rise and brighten the night sky. Why the gardener’s boy sought Penny out on the patio rather than running to get the overseer, she didn’t question. He was a child and probably ran for the nearest adult. Peering over, she could make out a patch of dirty white caught in a bush. At least the lamb had slid into the branches, it’s fall blocked from the vertical plunge of the cliff to the river below.

How had it gotten here? The early lambs weren’t old enough to be out of the lambing shed, which was nowhere near the cliff. She slid carefully down the slight grade of the rim and tried to calm the animal while she waited for help to arrive. She’d sent the boy on to the overseer with a request to bring rope.

Careful to stay out of range of the lamb’s thrashing, she spoke to it in gentle, crooning tones. The animal quieted, no longer flailing but still bleating plaintively. The creamy tan color of the lamb’s body was more difficult to see in the dark, but the face, white with black speckles, stood out. To her horror, she noticed one of those dark marks was in the shape of a heart. This was the orphan lamb the overseer had allowed Sophie to help feed. That lamb was bedded down every night by the overseer himself in the enclosure built next to his office in the main barn. Someone had to have brought this lamb out here. She’d damn well find out as soon as she rescued it from its precarious predicament.

Above her, loose rock skittered with the sound of someone descending. She tipped her head back and shouted, “Don’t come down. Just drop the end of the rope.”

“We won’t need a rope.”

The low, throaty words confused her. That wasn’t the overseer. She lost sight of the darkened form above her when she sat up to roll over on the clumps of rock and grass beneath her to get a better look. A solid thud struck her back, sending pain lancing along her spine and around her rib cage. The lamb renewed its thrashing when she slid into it, knocking it backward. Squealing in terror, it tumbled out of view.

Heart pumping, Penny windmilled in a futile attempt to keep from falling forward. She straddled the bush with her legs, the sharp ends of broken stems lacerating her exposed face and hands, snagging in the long-sleeved pajamas she wore. For an instant, her momentum stopped. In desperation she clamped her fists onto the bush’s base, ignoring the sting of abrasions.

A second strike from her assailant’s booted foot hit her high to one side of her backbone.

Something snapped inside.

Pain flooded her shoulder.

Jarred forward, she began a slow-motion tumble headfirst over the bush.

Fingers and palms tore while branches slid through her grasp until the strain on her good shoulder from the somersault forced her to let go.

Oh God. I’m falling. Sophie. Oh God. I can’t die and leave Sophie.

Her temple struck a jutting rock, and darkness claimed her.

Above, a figure scrambled to the top of the cliff, humming a cheery tune. The wordless melody stopped at the sound of someone rushing toward the precipice. By the time the overseer arrived, the spot was empty. No lamb. No Penny. Just moonlight casting the side of the cliff in shadow in the waning heat from a late summer day. With an exclamation of frustration and an oath that he’d see to that boy for pulling pranks, the overseer left.

It wasn’t until the next day, when no one could find Penny, that the overseer mentioned his fruitless trip to the cliff edge. Her body lay on the rocks, half in and half out of the river. Officially she was a casualty of misadventure.

* * * *

The Whip Hand, Beta Tau
Randolph stroked the disheveled softness of Eva’s hair before firmly gripping the back of her neck. “You did very well, Eva.” A shudder and sob were her only response. The time he’d spent with Eva over the last week had been a refreshing change from the business expansion consuming him for over a year. Although he might not have taken on Eva’s remedial training if her master hadn’t been a member of the Beta Tau board of directors.

Her body writhed when he drew a finger over the marks he’d left on her back. One or two spots were seeping blood. He swirled the tip in the fluid before scraping his nail across the abrasion. The sight of Eva, arms shackled above her head, undulating before him, sent a jolt of pleasure through him.

“Your master doesn’t hurt you often, Eva. Perhaps that’s why you believed you could manipulate him. He brought you to me to break that habit.”

“Yes, Sir.” A whimper escaped her lips.
Randolph threaded his fingers into her hair and pulled her head back, noting the tears inching down her cheek. “This is our last session before I return you to your master. The pain you’ve experienced was not a punishment. You’ve learned your lesson and learned it well.” He brushed his finger through the damp trail on her face. “This was for me. Your tears are your gift to me. I’m a sadist, Eva. I enjoy hurting you. But I haven’t taken you over the edge of what you could bear. If your master sends you again, I will break you. Do you understand?”

Unnnhhh.” The sound flew from her.

Randolph jostled her head. “Say you understand.”

“I understand, Sir.” The words came out with a squeak.

“Good,” he said, unwinding his fingers from her hair. He allowed the chain attached to her shackles to lengthen with a flick of his wrist before again engaging the locking mechanism. Gripping both her hips, he pulled her back until she was bent before him. He smacked her bottom. “Do not come. Your orgasms belong to your master. Correct?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Say it,” he ground out.

“My orgasms belong to my master.”

Randolph stepped away, allowing her master to step forward and take over. He didn’t watch the happy reunion when he exited the scene. He made his way to his office, brushing his fingertips through his neatly trimmed smoky brown hair. His cock had gone semihard, but Eva wasn’t his type and she wasn’t his. If she were, he would have taken her much deeper before fucking her.

His type. He had to smirk at that. His type hadn’t really been doing it for him lately. Probably the stress, which in theory should be diminishing. The addition of a private play space to his new suite had been a gift to himself a long time in coming. He’d finally indulged himself. The combination of play space, office, and apartment allowed him a level of privacy he’d never had. Perfect on days like today when he was too tired to face the onslaught of those seeking a personal moment with the celebrity owner and top sadist of the Whip Hand. He rarely entered the main play floors anymore, so when he did, the clamor was more strident.

After keying open his office door, he strode to the bar and a bottle of high-priced bourbon, pouring himself two fingers. He settled into his desk chair, downed a swallow of the liquor, and set the glass on the black coaster that protected his expensive desk.

He leaned back, eyes closed, waiting for the ripples of the chair adjusting to end, and then tapped the button that started his personal massage program. Heat soothed his tired back before the chair switched to a gentle overall kneading. A wince tightened his face when it began pummeling the knots in his shoulders.

The yearlong renovation had included an upgrade to the Whip Hand’s business offices. His new office was larger, including a sitting area and many other luxuries that put his old one with a desk and two chairs to shame. This desk was a work of art. The surface was black and white ebony inlay over black ebony. Its thick legs and panels were carved reliefs of tormented bodies struggling to free themselves from the wood. It made an impression on anyone who entered the room.

Yet he preferred his old office. Except for this chair. His old office with this chair would be just right, but the Whip Hand had evolved light-years beyond its original concept.

The expansion and renovation moved it well past its simpler days when he’d spent as much time on the floor as in his office. Now, a week could pass without him ever setting foot in any of the club’s venues. He’d passed oversight of the club’s subs to Tom. He was good at the job, but doing so still gave Randolph the sense that he’d allowed something to slip away.

As the chair resumed the previous gentle kneading, he realized what he missed: the immediacy. His own whip demos and playtime on the floor had evaporated, replaced by more and more meetings. Damn, he was a stodgy businessman now.

The chair’s program ended. Randolph drained the glass of bourbon and was about to retire to his apartment, shower, and climb in bed. When he sat forward, the red light that signaled an emergency comm winked at him from the touch bar on his desk. He sighed and brought up the message viewer. His forehead creased when he noted the comm was from his mother. Tabbed open, the static image showed her, shoulders drooped, no makeup, face puffy, and eyes red.

Randolph’s chest tightened. The last time he’d received a message with his mother looking this distraught was when she’d announced she was divorcing his father. He touched the start button.

“Randolph. I have bad news. Dear, I don’t know how to say this, so I’ll… Your sister died. She was trying to save a lamb. She fell from the cliff above the river.” Tears streamed down her face. “It’s awful, Rand. She lay there all night.” She reached for a tissue offscreen and blew her nose. “Please come home as soon as you can. We’ve had her cremated. The memorial service will be held when you arrive.” Pain was written in every line of her face. “Please, I need you here. I need you to stay.”

Stunned, a lump forming in his throat, Randolph sat immobile, unable to assimilate what he had heard. Penny couldn’t be dead. Both his beloved sister and nemesis, she, more than any other person, had driven him away from home, family… Tallav. How could the avenging angel, the destroyer of his life, be dead?

A replay of his mother’s comm did little to answer the questions swirling in his mind. She fell from the cliff? A ripple of nausea hit him. Fuck all. Penny knew the cliffs along the river at Briarcliff too well to have fallen from them. Not until he’d replayed the message a third time did he apprehend his mother’s last statement. Come? He would absolutely come. But stay? His mother just needed to get her feet under her. No way would he stay on Tallav longer than required to help her settle his sister’s affairs.

His fingers drifted to rub the inscribed heart on the pewter bead tied to his wrist by a leather cord. Penny was dead. It wasn’t possible. Someone so full of bullheaded life couldn’t die. Not the sister he’d never stopped loving even through the slinging vitriol they’d both flung at each other over the last twenty-one years. The sister who clung to distorted facts. Refused to listen each and every time he’d tried to reconcile. She couldn’t be gone. The hope he’d clung to that his big sister would once again be his best friend couldn’t be shattered. Every bitter word he’d spoken to her in anger hammered at him. If only…

He dropped forward, head in his hands, while searing pain flooded his soul.

* * * *

Cahernamon, Tallav
Jen O’Malley ran her sweaty palms over her navy slacks. Her morning had been spent vacillating between clothing options for this interview: formal business or kid friendly. She compromised and opted for casual business. But was that a mistake? O’Malleys expected formality. But this was the Meryons, not the O’Malleys. Stop second-guessing yourself.

If she were hired—and she needed to be—this would be the second job she’d ever held. Not that she’d had to apply for her first. Her appointment as third personal assistant to Lavinia O’Malley, granddaughter of the O’Malley head of family, Cordelia O’Malley, had been granted when she completed school at age twenty-one. O’Malleys took care of their own. A mantra she’d heard many times, always followed by a but and the lapse that had her perched on the verge of being kicked to the curb.

In her prolific family, there were O’Malleys and then there were O’Malleys. She was one of the lesser, a mere third cousin twice removed of Lavinia’s. Jen’s branch on the family tree was so far from the main trunk as to make almost no difference whether it was attached. The sap flowed thin and only if you worked for it. It didn’t anymore, and she didn’t work for an O’Malley either.

Now poised for her first job interview at the age of twenty-five, her nerves were rioting. She needed to obtain this position before her recent indiscretion, as Lavinia had termed it, was whispered about. Not that the details would make their way into gossip. No, the family wouldn’t brook that. The O’Malley name wasn’t to be associated with such regressive actions. The whispers would be that much more damaging for lack of facts. It was up to the mind of the listener to decide what nefarious deed Jen had committed to get her booted from the family’s affections. She brushed her hands down her slacks one more time before rapping on the door. A middle-aged woman dressed in dark gray slacks and a soft gray cable sweater answered.

She gave Jen an expectant look. “May I help you?”

Jen flexed her fingers. “Yes. I’m Jennifer O’Malley. I have an interview with Ms. Meryon.”

The woman gave her a polite smile. “She’s expecting you. Please follow me.”

Jennifer glanced around at the apartment while she followed the woman. It wasn’t what she’d expected. Lavinia O’Malley had followed in the O’Malley tradition of ostentatious antiquity in their furnishing choices. Ostentatious antiquity was a good way to describe everything about the O’Malley upper echelons. Although Lavinia would have taken exception to the term antiquity as it applied to her personally. She continually sought methods to retain the nubile perfection she’d had in her younger years.

This apartment was a complete contrast. From the color choices to the furniture and artwork, everything was understated. And none of it was cheap. The Meryons had money. And they were a first family, but not of the O’Malley stripe. No family could be as mired more deeply in traditional matriarchy than the O’Malleys. They would never have allowed the scandals that had struck the Meryons, divorce and a son who stood as the example used to scare young girls about what happened when men weren’t kept in their place.

The woman leading her paused before a doorway. “Ms. Meryon, Ms. O’Malley is here.”

“Send her in, Helen.”

Ms. Meryon rose from an exquisite Carlton House inlaid desk. “Ms. O’Malley. I’m Claire Meryon.” She extended an arm toward a love seat and chairs. “Please join me. Would you like tea or coffee?”

“No thank you.” Jen took a seat on the cream brocade love seat. The room reflected a refined elegance that spoke to the gentility of the woman who sat opposite her. The rose silk blouse over dark gray slacks surprised her. This was a house in mourning, but the only outward signs that Jen could detect of the woman’s recent tragedy were the shadows under her eyes and the overall sense of weariness she projected. “I’m so sorry for your loss.”

Ms. Meryon lowered her gaze to the side for a moment before looking directly at Jen. “Thank you. It’s been difficult.”

An understatement. Losing your daughter must be devastating. Jen felt a pang in her chest.

Ms. Meryon let a pallid smile cross her lips. “And that is why we need you. You come highly recommended by Evaline Braddock. Tell me about yourself and why I should allow you to take care of my granddaughter.”

Jen checked the instinct to wipe her sweaty palms on her slacks again by clasping them in her lap. “Well, I studied child development, but I can’t say that much of that was of real-world value. It was academic. Lots of study and analysis. It’s difficult to fit children into statistics. Each child is unique and shouldn’t be limited by labels.”

“Yes. Very interesting. But then what practical experience do you have?”

Jen flexed her fingers. “Well, I’ve always been the cousin that my family fobbed the children off on when all the cousins, aunts, and uncles gathered. Oh, not that I thought that way about it. No, they did. I loved it. Preferred it. I guess you could say I have a heart for children. And a knack for keeping them organized, well-behaved, and happy at the same time.”

Ms. Meryon responded with a brighter smile and a nod. “You’ll be attending to Sophie’s academics, too. Do you think you can handle that?”

Jen took a quick breath and plunged ahead. “I also have an education certification. Now that was a practical, hands-on program.”

“Really? I thought only men pursued education certification,” Ms. Meryon said, her eyebrows rising slightly.

Yes. It’s part of a men’s finishing school. But they allowed me to attend.” Jen flicked a stray hair behind her ear. “I may have given the impression I was interested in studying men as primary educators of young children. Needed the firsthand experience of how they were trained.” Jen bit the inside of her cheek. Maybe she shouldn’t have said that.

Ms. Meryon’s responding smile had a hint of amusement to it. “Sounds like you know what you want to do and don’t let others stand in your way. That’s very Tallavan of you.”

“My mother calls it mulish.”

“Ah.” Her expression grew somber again. “Penny was like that. Stubborn as the day was long.”

Jen hesitated, uncertain how best to respond.

Meryon sighed. “You seem like the perfect person for Sophie’s nanny. Evaline gave you the terms of the position, didn’t she?”

Yes.

“Are they agreeable to you?”

Jen’s stomach swirled. Yes.” Do I have the job?

We’ll need you starting the day of the memorial service. That hasn’t been set yet. When it is, I’ll let you know. Meanwhile, I’d like to introduce you to my granddaughter.”

Jen rose with Ms. Meryon, twiddling her fingers instead of bouncing on her toes. She was hired! Her mother and Evaline Braddock had come through for her.

Universal Buy Link:  https://books2read.com/rand 


Author Bio:
Cailin Briste writes science fiction suspense and fantasy romance. Her first series, Sons of Tallav, is set in a sector of Federation space far off the beaten path. The Tallavan marshals are tasked with keeping the peace. While fighting crime, they also must come to terms with the matriarchal system of their home planet, Tallav. Tricky because each is heavily involved in the BDSM lifestyle. Book one is her Dom, book two is her male submissive, and book three, just released in July 2018, is her sexual sadist.

Her second series, A Thief in Love Suspense Romance, began with a cat burglar who puts together a team to steal priceless art and antiquities from other thieves. Sebastian is a Robin Hood character whose Maid Marion is his equal on the rooftops of their futuristic city. The second in the series is the love story of two members of their support team, Cade and Bassinae.

More books in each series are coming as is a new series about a pair of dragon shifters and the man they love, bounty hunter Brody Simmons.

Keep up to date with Cailin's new releases via social media or her website.


Wednesday, July 18, 2018

The Wolf & The Empath




The Wolf & The Empath is live today!
You can find it on Amazon.

Blurb:

Mira didn’t need a man, she didn’t need anyone to love and hold her. She didn’t need anyone to protect her, “She was a woman hear her roar.” That’s what she told herself when she was alone with no one to talk to. So why did the man sitting on the bar stool in her club, with all the yummy muscles make her remember why she needed a man?

Tristan was an alien who was going to ground. He didn’t need a female, they rejected him his whole life. What would make him think now would be any different? He knew better than to watch the female with the voluptuous shape as she made love to the pole on stage. His eyes wouldn’t leave her. If he could have one thing before he said goodbye to his new planet, it would be a night with her.

They thought they didn’t need each other until a chance encounter showed them they were wrong. As they find their way to loving each other, they’ll have to deal with an enemy that doesn’t care that Tristan’s a wolf, or that Mira’s an empath.

This new enemy is determined to kill Tristan and take Mira. Is the threat localized or will the world pay if they fail?

Some days falling in love is harder than others.

Excerpt:

Chapter One

          “You look real sad, suga.”
          Tristan lifted his eyes from the beer in his hand. It wasn’t doing anything for him. The woman standing in front of him had soft brown eyes, a straight nose, and beautiful lips. Her skin was golden. Other than that, she wore a large coat that hid her body.
          “I’m not sad.”
          “Oh, you’re going to have to do better than that around here. I can practically see the sadness rolling off you in waves along with all that intense longing.”
He looked at her again. The smile on her face made him feel tight in his own skin, and the pity in her eyes made him want to lash out. Instead, he nursed his beer before sitting it down on the bar.
          “You like the entertainment?”
There were three poles on the stage. The two on the outside had girls swinging around them. They were nice and curvy, but way too slender for his taste. He wanted a female who wouldn’t break. He had been out in the world long enough to know that some men thought of the females on the stage as larger. He stared hard and still couldn’t see it.
          “It’s not bad.”
          “You want to talk about it?”
          No. He wanted to down this brown swill before he got on with his plans. This was the only place he could get away from the others. He looked behind him against his will. Sitting at the back table were six males who were all watching him, not that anyone looking would ever know. But he knew. They believed he was going to make the ultimate move.
          It didn’t matter how many times he told them that this was what fate had in store for him.
          “Too late suga, it’s time for me to go on.” She winked at him. “You can tell me what you think later.”
          She walked over to the side of the stage and went up the stairs. No one was watching her as she disappeared into the darkness in the back. He stared at her being able to see in the dark. She stood behind the middle pole and slowly began to unbutton the coat like she was doing it just for him.
His throat worked wondering if the beauty of her body would match her face. When the last button was undone, she shrugged her shoulders sending the coat cascading down around her feet.
          Damn. He almost swallowed his tongue. She was a masterpiece. She wiggled her ass and then a full body wiggle before the music came on. Her legs were incredible in the heels she was wearing. He wanted to touch her breasts, they looked soft and inviting. She was thick with a strength that made his body sit up and notice. That was a female who wouldn’t break.
          When she reached the pole, she swung around it. He made sure he was pulled up to the bar. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt a physical response to a female. That’s what happened when you lived on a planet that wasn’t yours. Until recently, he had been living in a compound away from humans.
          “You want another?” The bartender was standing in front of him.
          He snapped his teeth to keep his growl from escaping. The nails on his hands threatened to turn into claws.
          “Whiskey straight. Give me the black label that bites.”
          The bartender looked at him before he sniffed the air. “Coming, straight up.”
The club catered to humans, but unless he missed his bet, not everyone here was a hundred percent human.
          He slid him a double. Tristan paid and went back to watching the female on stage. She winked at him. Get up and leave he told himself. He was too old for a human female. By too old he meant ancient. Fate that fickle female never meant for him to find a mate.
          Once again, he allowed his eyes to meet hers while the thought of a mate teased him. Several members of his pack found their mates. That’s why he was out in the human world. He wanted to make it easy for them to say goodbye to him.
          The female on the stage went to the floor on her hands and knees. She crawled over to him allowing him a close look at her luscious breasts. He picked up his wallet. He would shove every bill he had at her for a chance to even graze a finger against her skin.
          She stopped just short of being close enough for him to touch. Her body rolled dragging a moan from him before she stood. When she turned back to her pole. Her legs were spread. Her head went down, and her body followed. All he could see was her ass and that tiny string that disappeared between her cheeks. It was his hand gripping the edge of the bar that kept him in his seat. Her brown hair swung over her shoulders. She rolled her hips as she went back to her pole.
          “She’s hot as hell. You have to admit that.” A male sat on the bar stool next to Tristan, his eyes eating up the female on stage. The female whom he was already planning to lay claim to.
          He shook his head. There was no female for him. As soon as he gave the males watching him the slip, he would disappear.
          “All I can think about is taking her home with me, tying her to the bed and, well, you understand.”
          “Is she your female?” The words came out in a low growl. He was afraid he would kill the male if he said yes.
          “No.” The male turned to look at him. “It wouldn’t be any fun if she agreed to it.” The male’s eyes flashed black. “Don’t look so serious you’ll be dead soon.”
          He got off the barstool and walked out throwing challenging looks over his shoulder.
          Don’t follow the male, Tristan. This is not your female. It didn’t matter if the female wasn’t his mate, he had grown up on a planet where they were rare. It was even rarer for one to willingly talk to him, and this female had. He wouldn’t allow anyone to hurt her. He stood; the bartender was watching him.
          “I’ll be back.” The bartender nodded. Tristan knew his shadows were paying attention, but he ignored them as he walked towards the door. He had been back-up in several fights before he left the compound, but that was not the same as fighting for a cause of his own. His fingers flexed before he pushed the door to the bar open.
          He walked around to the back of the bar. That’s where he would find the male.
          “I knew you would follow me.” The male wasn’t human if the black eyes weren’t enough the fangs he was now sporting would have given it away.
          He rushed Tristan making him jump out the way. Tristan turned on the heel of his foot his hand now nothing but deadly claws. They ripped down the males back while he laughed.
          “It takes more than a few claw marks to defeat me Kur’ik.”
          “I have to admit you have me at a disadvantage. I don’t know who or what you are.”
          “That’s what happens when your people stay confined.”  He ran at him jumping at the last second. His claws ripped into Tristan’s chest before he landed behind him. His laugh sounding boarder line maniacal.
          Tristan wanted to rip off his clothes to allow his other form, his true form to take over. At twelve feet tall there was no way he would go undetected. He stood up throwing himself at the male. His claws digging deep on contact. He shook him like an errant doll. The male fell to the ground and collapsed when he tried to stand.
          “You haven’t won. This was just the beginning.” He disappeared before Tristan could slit his throat.
          “What do you think he was?” Ven stepped out of the shadows followed by five males who were his height.
          “Thanks for the help, I appreciate it.”
          “You didn’t need help. You needed to fight to remember that you’re alive.” Cade, the leader of Enigma One, told him.
           "And if I turned into a werewolf?” Tristan asked.
          “Then I would have beat you down myself for not being able to control your changes at your age.”
          He turned away looking for a source of water to clean the blood from his hands. Cade was right if he didn’t have the self-control to deal with the urge to change, then they were all in trouble.
         Ven pulled out two bottles of water and preceded to pour them over his hands. He didn’t ask the male why he had water because he was different. He knew things he shouldn’t.
          “Do you know who he was?”
          Cade shook his head. “I’ve been in the ground too long.”
          “I’m heading back to my room, Tristan told them.
          “Don’t you want to stay and watch the female dance?” Ven asked him.
          Yes, but he wouldn’t stay. What good would it do for him to stare at someone that beautiful and know that he would never be allowed to touch her? Ven and Enigma One could act as if he had a chance for redemption, but he knew better. Fate was a fickle bitch, and she was coming after him. As it should be.
          With one last glance toward the bar, he left. Tonight would be his last.

*~*~*~*

          “I love it when you strut your stuff,” Troy the bartender said with a suggestive smile.
          “Of course, you do. I do believe you’re a glutton for punishment. Look at the boner you're sporting,” Mira told him with a grin. She had been friends with Troy before she started dancing here.
          “You could always help me out.”
          “And ruin a perfectly good friendship? No thank you.”
          “You’re the perfect little temptress.”
          “Have you seen me? Nothing little about this body.”
          “So, you keep telling me.”
          “Looks like I lost a customer. He switched to whiskey I see.”
          “As if you weren’t checking him out while you danced.”
          “Lot of good it did me. He left.”
          “That creep came back. I believe he went to teach him some manners.”
          “I can take care of myself.”
          "I guess you forgot that several girls have gone missing.”
          “Rumor says they moved on.”
          “Mira, you know better than to listen to rumors.”
         “I know. I’m going to call it a night.”
         “Be safe and keep your gift tucked away tight.”
         “We both know it doesn’t work like that.” She put on the coat that was hanging off her finger before she walked to the side of the bar. There was a door that said employees only.
         The hotter air hit her immediately. There was no air conditioner running back here. She passed the door for the manager who also happened to be the owner and most nights the bartender. He liked to get his hands dirty. A little further along was a door that simply said, girls. That’s where she, and the other dancers came to change their clothes.
         She opened the door to find Eve and Anna talking.
         “Mira.” They both greeted her. Anna turned away even as she said her name.
         “How are two of my favorite girls?”
          They both laughed. “Why do you keep calling us girls?”
          “I wonder if I thought I was grown at twenty-four and five.”
          “I’m graduating from college this year that makes me grown,” Eve told her with a hard nod to her head.
           “You keep thinking that short stuff. There’s a nice crowd out there, and I got them worked up for you. The tips should be nice.”
          “That’s why I love this job. The tips,” Anna said still not looking at them.
          “How are you feeling Anna?”
          “Fine, thanks, Mira.”
          “Is that so?” She walked over not making a sound to stand beside Anna. “Allow me to be the judge of that.”
           Gently she turned her around in her chair. There was a large bruise on her cheek. The pale white skin was discolored and quickly going from a range of blues to purple and black.
          “I fell.” She said putting her hand on her face to hide the bruise.
          “How’d that happen?”
          “You know how clumsy I am. I was walking around the house, and my feet got tangled in the throw rug, and I went down on the hardwood.”
          “So clumsy. I’ve watched you in five-inch heels walk that stage then run and jump on that pole swinging around, and you never miss a beat. The next time I find a bruise on you my little porcelain doll, I’m going to come to your house and start breaking whatever hurt you. Even if it’s that woman, you call girlfriend. Don’t worry you don’t have to say a word. I’ll make sure she gets my message.               Do you need someplace to crash tonight?”
         “Eve said I could crash at her place.”
         “Good. Both of you be safe going home tonight. I don’t like the fact that so many young girls are missing.”
         “We will.” They both got up and grabbed a coat before they raced out the door.
          Mira slumped in one of the chairs they left empty. She was too old for this. There were only ten years between them, but she felt older than mother Teresa when she was around these young girls. Anna’s face and the pain that came from her in waves rolled over her. That small contact with her was enough to test the restraints she built up over the years.
          Standing she stripped naked and reached for a pair of hipster underwear. Yeah, she knew all about sexy thongs since she took one off but honestly that string between her butt cheeks irritated her more than she liked.
          After sliding on her panties, she grabbed a pair of jeans and shimmied into them. Her phone did the vibration dance over the long counter they used to do their makeup.
          "Hello." She took a deep breath getting ready for the caller.
         “The kitten has claws, and she’s trying to use them in fear. I need mama cat to come comfort her before she escapes the trap.”
         She gave a sigh. Tonight wasn’t getting any easier. The momentary lapse in judgment she had earlier when she wanted to spend the evening with the man she talked to was over. She wasn’t that girl, who could just be carefree.
          “Do not declaw the kitten. Let her use you as a scratching post. She cannot escape the trap I set for her.”
          She took off the jeans that were so tight they clung to every indecent curve of her body and replaced them with mom jeans. A small chuckle came out. She paired it with a prim and proper shirt and a pair of Nikes. A quick look in the mirror told her she almost looked like the girl next door.
          She grabbed her purse and checked for her car keys before she walked out. There was an exit next to their room, so they didn’t have to walk back through the bar. She took it. Her car was parked close to the door. She owned a small Jeep, nothing that would draw attention to her.
          She turned the music on and began to sing slightly off-key as she pulled out of the lot. How different her life would have been if she could carry a tune. Nope, she’d be doing the same thing just on a bigger playing field. She couldn’t stop trapping kittens, male or female they were both fair game. Now to make her kitten disappear.
          She parked behind a warehouse that sat close to the river. No one used this area at night, and the buildings that belonged to her were separate from the more trafficked area.
           “Mira!” Diane half screamed half cried her name. Her wild eyes looked around trying to find an avenue of escape.
          “What’s wrong sweetie?” The teen ran to her collapsing in her arms. She cried on her shirt, tears, and snot making it wet. Mira stroked her hair until the girl stopped crying.
          “I changed my mind and he,” she stopped to point at Jax, “Wouldn’t let me leave.”
          “What made you change your mind?”
           She looked up and then down at her feet.
          “Diane?” She placed her hand under her chin and tilted her head back to look at her.
          “He loves me,” she whispered. “He told me last night if he lost me, he couldn’t go on.”
          Mira ran her hand over the girls back and stopped when she gave a cry of pain. She lifted her shirt to find bruises consistent with a fist.
         “Diane, if you stay with him, he will kill you. He can’t control his temper, and he won’t get help. I can’t help him, but I can help you, if you let me.”
          “How will I live, make money? I only know how to sell my body.”
         “I have a place away from the city where you will live. They will get you clean, make sure you get an education. Most importantly no one will hurt you. I swear; I would kill them if they touched you.”
          “Why me?”
          “I’m a sucker for hurt kittens with big eyes. You have to agree because detox will be a bitch.”
          “Even my mom doesn’t care.”
          “I’m not your mom.”
          Her face brightened. “No, you’re my friend. I want to do this. I’m just scared that I’ll stop in the middle and run away.”
          “Don’t worry kitten you’ll be protected until you're ready to stand on your own.”
          Jax and Lea walked out of the shadows. Lea was a mother who lost a child to the streets. That’s when she made the decision, she would save every little kitten she could.
          “Go with Jax and Lea, they will take care of you.”
          “He really is sorry.”
          “I know.”
          Lea tucked her arm around Diana’s shoulders, and she laid her head against Lea’s chest. Lea was a mother from the top of her perfectly coifed hair to the tips of her polished nails.
          She lost her only child to the streets and decided never again. She’d been helping Mira ever since. Jax, on the other hand, was scarier. He stood at six three ex-military with the face of an angel. Sometimes life wasn’t fair.
          Mira gave an exaggerated groan when his toned ass went through the door.

Tuesday, July 17, 2018

@CailinBriste Tuesday Tease - A Steamalicious #Erotic #Excerpt



The Whip Hand, Beta Tau

Randolph stroked the disheveled softness of Eva’s hair before firmly gripping the back of her neck. “You did very well, Eva.” A shudder and sob were her only response. The time he’d spent with Eva over the last week had been a refreshing change from the business expansion consuming him for over a year. Although he might not have taken on Eva’s remedial training if her master hadn’t been a member of the Beta Tau board of directors.

Her body writhed when he drew a finger over the marks he’d left on her back. One or two spots were seeping blood. He swirled the tip in the fluid before scraping his nail across the abrasion. The sight of Eva, arms shackled above her head, undulating before him, sent a jolt of pleasure through him.

“Your master doesn’t hurt you often, Eva. Perhaps that’s why you believed you could manipulate him. He brought you to me to break that habit.”

“Yes, Sir.” A whimper escaped her lips.

Randolph threaded his fingers into her hair and pulled her head back, noting the tears inching down her cheek. “This is our last session before I return you to your master. The pain you’ve experienced was not a punishment. You’ve learned your lesson and learned it well.” He brushed his finger through the damp trail on her face. “This was for me. Your tears are your gift to me. I’m a sadist, Eva. I enjoy hurting you. But I haven’t taken you over the edge of what you could bear. If your master sends you again, I will break you. Do you understand?”

Unnnhhh.” The sound flew from her.

Randolph jostled her head. “Say you understand.”

“I understand, Sir.” The words came out with a squeak.

“Good,” he said, unwinding his fingers from her hair. He allowed the chain attached to her shackles to lengthen with a flick of his wrist before again engaging the locking mechanism. Gripping both her hips, he pulled her back until she was bent before him. He smacked her bottom. “Do not come. Your orgasms belong to your master. Correct?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Say it,” he ground out.


“My orgasms belong to my master.”


Rand: Son of Tallav
By Cailin Briste

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Two shamed souls, a mutual enemy and an attraction they can’t control…

Randolph Meryon is a man no woman can resist despite the whip he brandishes. Compelled to return home after his sister’s death, he struggles to fit new responsibilities into the hedonistic lifestyle he prefers to live. It’s a task he finds difficult enough without adding in the tangle of unanswered questions his sister has left behind and the sugar-cookie sweet nanny caring for his niece. He hasn’t had a taste of sweet in a very long time.

Jen O’Malley, shunned by her family, struggles to find work without their backing, meeting barriers wherever she turns. A position as nanny with the scandal-riddled Meryons seems like a lifeline. She’s relieved until she arrives and becomes enmeshed in a web of intrigue, unable to discern the identity of the spider at the center.

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