Poem for Tess
by
Ker Dukey
I relish the snap, welcome the burn, don’t stop yet it’s still my turn.
Tighten your grip, make me bleed, it’s a hunger I need to feed.
I want it, I need it, I’ll beg you to feed it.
Tie me, tease me, let your pleasure please me. Hurt me, love me, but please don’t ever leave me.
Save me, enslave me, you will never cave me.
Taunt me, flaunt me, kill what haunts me.
Strip me bare, pull my hair, I don’t care just take me there.
I need that high, I need that pain, it’s the only thing that keeps me sane.
Don’t show mercy, don’t cut me loose, I need you to tighten that noose.
Tie me, tease me, let your pleasure please me. Hurt me, love me, but please don’t ever leave me.
Save me, enslave me, you will never cave me.
Taunt me, flaunt me, kill what haunts me.
Leave your mark, scar my skin, I will bow down to you my king.
Tied to a rack or down on my knees, it’s you my master I long to please. Own me, take me, you can never break me.
Choose me, use me, you will never lose me.
Poem for Q
by
Ker Dukey
I ache to see your flesh bleed, scream for me, give me what I need
Let the rivers run, the monster inside has won
Naked and restrained, this darkness cannot be contained
You, my esclave have been claimed
You’re my obsession, I’m your possession
You own the deepest part of me
You crawled into the darkness, set my monster free
So scream, bleed, call out to me
But never say stop, never flee
I long to see your creamy skin blush
Welted and marked gives me a rush
I can’t contain him, you set me free
This isn’t a role I play, the monster is me
You call me Maître but I am the esclave
Slave to inflict the pain I crave
You’re my obsession, I’m your possession
You own the deepest part of me
You crawled into the darkness, set my monster free
So scream, bleed, call out to me
But never say stop, never flee
Whimper and moan while I sit on my throne
We can be monsters together so we’re never alone
You’re my esclave, my soul mate
Each other we own
You’re mine forever, my bird flew home
To read more of Ker Dukey’s work please find her on Goodreads, and her book The Broken on Amazon HERE.
*Other work by Pepper Winters*
“My life wasn’t perfect but at least it was mine. Now, I live in hell and owned by others. I fell for a guy who promised me the world and sold me for five kilos of cocaine. I want nothing more than to end this existence of abuse and slavery. I’m not weak. I’m not giving up. I’m just done.”
Owned. Possessed. Used.
Lyric is a whore. After three years as a pawn in a high class game of bastards and sex, she’s had enough. Every hope and dream she’s ever had is inked on her skin—a reminder of why she should stay alive. But she’s lost all hope and the moment she runs out of flesh to tattoo, Lyric will find freedom. Freedom by death. As her last breath fast approaches, she needs nothing and no one…until him.
Kage was born to be one thing: a killer. Trained from birth, he’s an expert in blood and extermination—the last shadow his victims ever see. He’s the best at his profession; a ruthless, unfeeling assassin. He needs nothing and no-one…until her.
A man who lives to kill and a woman who wants to die. A serendipitous match…or so they thought.
A New Adult Dark Contemporary Romance, not suitable for people sensitive to slavery, cruelty, and non-consensual sex. A story about a killer with no remorse, a woman living in nightmares, and a future that binds them in servitude.
Sneek Peek into:
Maybe This Time
By
New York and USA Today Bestselling Author
Chantal Fernando
Buy HERE
Chapter One
Summer
This isn't exactly how I expected to meet him for the first time.
I wait outside the jail, nervously glancing around as if someone could mug me at any second.
And they probably could.
Finally, after an hour of waiting, he walks out. He's tall and muscular, with a familiar head of light brown hair. His stride is confident, sure. A smile quirks his full lips when he sees me, and he instantly quickens his pace. As he steps right in front of me, I stare into hazel eyes that are so different from my own dark brown.
“Summer,” he says, his eyes crinkling with warmth. I huff out a sigh, trying to look put out, but then fall into his embrace the second he opens his arms to me. I squeeze him tight, not wanting to let go.
He smells like cigarettes and leather, but I couldn’t care less.
“'Bout time you came home,” he says, rubbing my back.
“I know, I just felt guilty,” I say truthfully, pulling from his embrace. If my mother was alive, she wouldn’t want me to be here.
“You have no reason to feel guilty. Come on, let’s get out of here.”
I nod and watch as my brother gets into my car.
*****
“You gonna tell me why I had to pick you up from jail?” I can’t stop myself from asking.
“Misunderstanding,” is all he tells me. It’s a bit late for me to play the big sister role, so I don’t ask him anything else. Instead I sigh, and ask him for directions to his house.
Xander is only a year younger than me, but this is the first time I've met him in person. I can’t help glancing at him from the corner of my eye every now and again, taking in his every movement, his every feature. His hair is long, almost to his shoulders, and he has a dimple in his chin. He's covered in tattoos, with two full sleeves and even a few peeking out from under his collar. His knuckles are split open, like he’d gotten into a fight recently.
I've waited for this day for years, but now that it’s here I’m not quite sure what to say or do.
“You might wanna keep your eyes on the road,” he says, amusement lacing his tone. I don’t answer him, but turn my head forward. Xander leans forward and puts the CD player on. Drake’s ‘Started from the Bottom’ starts to play, and I can feel his amused gaze on me. He skips to the next song, which happens to be ‘How Do You Want It’ by 2pac. He turns the music off and the rest of the drive is quiet.
“Turn left here, and keep going.” I follow his instructions, glad for the distraction.
“Right here, Summer. It’s the third house on the left,” he says, pointing.
“Okay. Dad won’t be here, will he?” I ask quietly after we pull up in the driveway to a large brick house.
Not what I was expecting at all.
Xander flashes me an unreadable look. “No, he’s not here.” I exhale in relief. No way am I ready to see him just yet.
“Open the boot and I’ll get your bags,” Xander offers. My brother is chivalrous, interesting. Looks like my mother was wrong about him in so many ways.
I lean against the car, playing with the rips in my distressed jeans as he takes out my bags. He starts to walk towards the house, dragging my pink leopard print suit case with him. I bite my lip, trying not to laugh at a rough looking man covered in tattoos with such a girly accessory. Xander turns around when he realizes I’m not following him, and raises an eyebrow in question.
I reluctantly take a step towards the house.
Towards my new life.
Sneek Peek into:
The Thrill Of It
By
New York and USA Today Bestselling Author
Lauren Blakely
Buy HERE
Chapter One
I step toward him,
cup his cheeks. “I’m tired of waiting for you,” I say, shedding all my walls. He knows all my secrets and lies. He can know my truth. “I’m so tired of it,” I say softly, then I hold his gaze and trail my fingers along his jawline, from his earlobe, across his scar to his chin, watching the expression in his eyes shift from surprise to desire. To desperate want. I run my index finger across his top lip, and he closes his eyes briefly, his chest rising and falling, his breath catching. He opens his eyes again, watches me. I touch his bottom lip, and he nips on my finger, then flashes a quick grin that fades as he whispers, “I’m tired too.”
That’s it. That’s all. I can’t wait. I don’t want to. I’m sick of it. I need this contact with him. I need this moment. I need to know what it’s like again to have this kind of connection.
I kiss him.
Slow. Soft. But full of need. Full of hope. Full of my wish for this, us, him and me, to become more than just friends. I want him so badly, I want to return to our night, I want him to take away the pain again. I want his touch to remind me that there is good in the world, that two people can care and be close, and it doesn’t have to be a game, or someone using the other.
That there can be something real and true.
He groans as I trace his lips with my tongue. His lips part, and he lets me lead the kiss, lets me taste his mouth and his tongue. Then, in seconds, the kiss changes. He spins me around, and now my back is against the brick wall, and he threads his hands into my hair, running his fingers through the thick strands, all while kissing me deeply, his tongue sliding against mine, his breath tasting so good, his lips capturing mine. It’s a fiery kiss, full of months of pent-up longing, borne of a night when everything seems so far out of reach that sometimes you have to grab the visceral, the physical, to tie you back to earth. To make you forget all the ways your life is spinning beyond your control. He kisses harder, insistently, as if he can’t get enough of me, as if he needs to taste me, to drown in this kiss with me.
I lose myself too. I let go of the meeting, of the SOS to Cam, of Danielle’s words, of my mom’s insatiable need to hook me up, of the stories Miranda makes me write, of my past. I shed them all. They are vapor, they are nothing, I am new again.
I am no longer that person.
Layla is gone as I am at once lost and found in a kiss like this. A kiss that has nothing to do with power, or games, or control. A kiss that simply has to be. His hands in my hair, then roaming down my back, then grappling at my hips. And all the while we are in this together, we both want this, we both need this, there is no uneven distribution of desire, or money, or want. His lips consume me with desperation, and soon he’s traversing my neck, and kissing the hollow of my throat, and I gasp quietly.
“Oh,” I say, but for me that’s everything because I don’t make noise, I don’t vocalize, I don’t let on when I’m turned on.
“Fuck, Harley,” he says, and grabs my ass and pulls me against him, so I can feel how much he wants this too. He licks his way up my neck, and I melt inside with longing as his lips brush my earlobe. As if he’s about to whisper something. Maybe tell me how much he wants to taste me and touch me.
But then his hands are on my shoulders, and he’s no longer holding me close. He’s holding me back. I’m standing here panting, lost in some sort of crazed moment of lust, and he’s suddenly all cool and calm as he says, “But I can’t. I can’t go there. And I have to get the fuck away right now.”
He grabs his backpack and leaves, the screen door swinging with several creaks.
He’s gone.
And I’m alone in this ridiculously romantic courtyard in the middle of New York. Hot and bothered and utterly left behind. Like an idiot. Like a stupid fucking idiot.
My phone buzzes. I grab it in milliseconds, hoping it’s Trey.
But it’s Cam.
Missing things? Missing me? That can be fixed in an instant, sweetheart. Tomorrow night. Bliss Bar. 7 p.m. Be there.
Sneek Peek into:
Vendetta
By
Sienna Lane & Autumn Karr
Coming 17th December 2013
Goodreads HERE
Prologue
Have you ever known that you shouldn’t do something, but did it anyway? Sometimes temptation outweighs risk, want trumps all consequences. It was one of those moments. It was a moment that started a hurricane that would sweep us away into the world of imperfect love and vicious hate. Insatiable lust. Excruciating pain. Guilt and temptation.
That one look. The first tentative touch. Just two people who found each other in the dark.
It was as simple as that.
It was as complicated as that.
But nothing worth having comes easy.
Chapter One
LEIGHTON
I slowly crouch lower behind the rusty car, hoping, no, praying, that they don’t see me. How do I get myself into these situations? Stupid, stupid girl, I tell myself for coming after him here. It’s true that I often get myself in trouble, but this is crossing the line, even for me.
I can’t pretend this didn’t happen. I'll have to tell my dad, and then a man’s death will be forever on my hands. Forever on my conscience.
But I can’t not tell him. George is supposed to be loyal to him, someone he can trust, and he needs to know whatever nefarious schemes he’s planning. I knew all along George is up to no good, there’s just something insincere about his presence.
He’s a rat.
A traitor to my family.
I stay silent and listen, only hearing snippets of their conversation, but nothing to indicate what they're talking about, not really. And he's talking to him.
Devon Andre.
I’ve never spoken to Devon before, but I’ve seen him around.
A lot.
We both pretend we don’t know the other.
It’s easier that way.
Our families don’t like each other, and I don’t know why exactly, but I can guess. I’m not completely naïve, and though I’m not told the exact ins and the outs of the world I live in, I do know what kind of things go on. The kind of things my family, and Devon’s too, partake in.
Devon Andre. A head of thick black hair, cut shorter in the back and longer in front, partly concealing one of his green eyes. Tall, lithe, and with just the right amount of muscle, Devon belongs on the covers of magazines.
It’s such a shame.
“Here it is,” George says, handing him a legal-sized envelope.
Here’s what? I squint, trying to get a better look but it’s so dark and I can’t risk getting caught.
I quickly take out my phone from my handbag. If I’ll throw around heavy accusations, I’ll need proof. Just to be sure. I crawl on my knees and elbows closer, hiding behind the car’s flat tire, to at least record their voices clearer against the waves crashing in the Boston harbor. I turn on the camera then freeze. The flash goes on, illuminating two figures standing just a few feet in front of me. Fuck. I always forget to put the stupid thing off. Wide eyed, I watch as their heads snap in my direction.
I hear a muttered ‘fuck’, and get off the ground, instinctively starting to run towards the exit, but by then it’s already too late. Someone grabs for my hair, halting my escape, and then I’m confronted by George’s beady eyes.
“Traitor,” I whisper, loud enough for him to hear, my pleading eyes darting towards a stunned Devon.
A sharp glint catches my eye as George raises his hand, and then everything goes black.