Help us celebrate the release of Cari Silverwood’s Historical BDSM romance
Cari will be giving away an ebook copy of ROUGH SURRENDER and a $15 Amazon gift card to one lucky commenter!
Join us for a LIVE chat with Cari, Saturday, June 9, 8:00 pm EST.
When history and BDSM collide, you get a book like Rough Surrender. Romantic yet sexily hot, with the fun bits of history interwoven into the story in a way that helps the plot accelerate and colors in the characters. You’ll wish you could go back to that time to climb the pyramids (which we can’t do anymore), or to watch the old canvas and timber airplanes purr overhead. And of course, so you can also go back to meet my Dom, Leonhardt Meisner and Faith Evard, a woman who is exploring her need for submission.
The Wright brothers flew in 1903. Yet in 1910 the first great meeting of pilots and their flying machines occurred on the African continent – at Heliopolis, Le Grand Semaine de L’aviation. Here is the time of Rough Surrender. Thirty or forty thousand people attended that meeting and watched those marvelous machines attempt to fly around the pyramids.
I modeled Faith’s love of flying her Bleriot plane after the very first woman to get a pilot’s license, Baroness de Laroche. Learning to fly in 1910 wasn’t a sedate affair, and might mean someone running or bicycling alongside the plane you were taking off in, and yelling instructions at you. Hair-raising, I’m sure. So I think you’ll understand why Leonhardt Meisner was horrified at the prospect of Faith flying.
When you put together two strong people with divergent views of something that one of them wants dearly, and then combine sexual attraction and the power exchange inherent in BDSM, you get an explosive situation.
If a man cares for you deeply, and only wishes to protect you from what he sees as a terribly dangerous pursuit, what do you do when you unearth his secret? Can love survive such a deception? Add in a series of murders with bodies being found in the river Nile and you have my latest release from Lyrical Press, Rough Surrender.
At a time when airplanes are as new-fangled and sensational as the telephone, Faith dares to fly. The one territory she has not explored is her own sexuality. In Leonhardt she discovers the man who can teach her how a woman surrenders her body and her mind. However, Leonhardt has a shadowed past and his own learning to do. He doesn’t have the right to keep Faith from flying, even if he thinks airplanes are flimsy death-traps made of canvas, timber and their inventor’s prayers.
Faith has her limits, Leonhardt has his flaws, and sometimes the nicest people get murdered by unscrupulous bastards. Even if Leonhardt can save the woman he loves, the battle for Faith’s heart will be the hardest one of all.
WARNING: BDSM, anal sex, orgasms galore, and a Dom who likes to claim his property with pen, ink and bondage.
Lyrical Press link: http://www.lyricalpress.com/store/index.php?main_page=product_info&cPath=81&products_id=518
Purchase at ARE http://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-roughsurrender-819094-147.html
Cari’s website http://www.carisilverwood.net/
Cari’s website http://www.carisilverwood.net/
Cari on twitter: http://twitter.com/#!/carisilverwood
And on facebook: http://www.facebook.com/cari.silverwood
The website for the book, Rough Surrender: http://roughsurrender.weebly.com/
Can you imagine the wonder at all of the technological advances made at the turn of the century? Would you have been brave enough to fly in one of the first planes?
One lucky commenter will win an ebook copy of ROUGH SURRENDER and a $15 Amazon gift card. Winner will be selected using random.org on 6/6.
ROUGH SURRENDER – Adult Excerpt
|“You can’t just announce that sort of thing, sir!” This time the sir was an acerbic one and not all respectful. “We barely know anything about each other. Well. Um.” A blush swept hotly across her face. How silly. Faith huffed. “This time I do want to be untied.”
Leonhardt cocked his head and the mischievous malevolence on his face turned purposeful.
“Oh. You say this, do you, Miss Faith Evard? And I say I’m not done with you yet.”
“What?” she squeaked. “You’re to stop. Right now, sir. Or–”
“Or what? You’ll scream? That could be embarrassing for you.” He slipped his hand back and dipped his finger between her legs, slicking the cream of her juices forward and swirling around and around her clitoris, as if his fingertip were a pen doodling circles on paper. Each feathery touch that glanced off the nub sent out tiny shocks.
“I… I– Stop that, please. You said you’d stop, if I…uh…asked you to.” She squirmed, unsure if she wanted to somehow make that light touch go closer, or to wriggle away.
“I’m not done with you. One minute of your time,” he said calmly, doodling around and now, at times, steering across her clit. “If you still say no, I’ll honor it.”
Feeling a step removed from reality, as if he were gradually drawing a veil over her world, Faith watched him sit up, fish around in the pile of his clothes while still touching her, and emerge with a pocket watch. She licked her lower lip. Already her clitoris swelled, throbbed, maybe in time with his blasted clock. If she didn’t stop him, it wouldn’t mean she had to marry him, would it? No.
“Mr. Meisner. Please stop.” She gave a stifled groan.
“Here. One minute.” Without stopping his circling, he placed the watch on her belly button, nestling it there and then draping the cold watch chain over her skin until the clasp at the end dangled from his hand, swaying, on her nipple. The metal tap, tap, tapped and her nipple peaked hard.
She bit her lip and sucked in air, watching the chain in his fingers tap upon her. Past that, up the slope of her stomach, his other hand played among her pubic hair. Heat rose, sifting, curling. She clamped her lips together but the little sounds came out and she strained against the cords. Her hands were twisting under the pillows and, damn him, he knew it.
“Starting, now.” Leaving the watch chain laid in a line across her belly, he shifted and knelt between her legs. Mr. Meisner put his hand under her bottom, with the little finger atop her nether hole–somewhere it surely shouldn’t be?
Oh. What was that? Yet another new and entirely queer sensation. Did that little finger press in a fraction? Some muscle down there, tensed, relaxed.
No. He mustn’t.
Frowning, she stared incredulously at the man. Mr. Meisner met her gaze then settled his other hand with the V of two fingers framing her clitoris, and popped his thumb into her vagina. She jumped, clamping her jaw on the gasp that almost escaped.
“Twenty seconds, my dear. Do speak up.” With his eyes focused on hers, he leisurely lowered his mouth and put his lips over the top of her oversensitized nub.
Mmm. She tensed, her thighs quivering in, tight on his shoulders.
His tongue swirled.
As one, her eyes snapped shut, her neck arched and her head flopped back onto the mattress. She groaned. His mouth was on her, in her most intimate place. Unimaginable, glorious and so naughty, all at once. She hadn’t known what a clitoris was until this day, and now she wondered if the poor thing could ever expire from overuse.
The tendrils of arousal were seeking out her sexual parts and filling them tight, pumping into her, expanding. She was breathing like an over-stoked steam engine, like a dog in the hot sun, like a woman who needed, oh so badly, to orgasm.
He lifted his mouth off her. “I’ll take that as a, yes, I want you to keep doing that.”
She peeked through eyelashes, seeing her breasts heave up and down and the watch chain slither off to the side.
He angled up an eyebrow. “Well?”
“Yes, damn you! Sir.” Heat rippled deep into her stomach, making everywhere ache and her nipples poke up like little turrets. Put your mouth back. God!
“Then we shall see each other for the next ten days? And you won’t reject the idea of discussing marriage, out of hand?”
He put his head down and sucked the burgeoning nub up against his tongue. Wet heat. Soft, lazy strokes. Heaven. She groaned, muscles tightening like a sprinter about to bolt. She wanted to claw at his hair, at his shoulders but her hands were roped to her ankles, her body angled like a launching ramp straight to his glorious, licking mouth. One more lick. One more. Impossible, but she tensed even tighter, harder. Her thighs had found his body where he knelt between her legs, crushing him so much he’d likely have marks.
Another moist lick sent her hurtling into an orgasm. “Umnhh!” She rode out the crashing shudders and jerks with her neck and body arching into the bonds, her nails digging into the flesh of ankles. The cries seemed to come from the throat of another, distant woman. More spasms wracked her, before the ceiling rematerialized in her dazed sight.
Maybe she wouldn’t be able to ever move again. Ecstasy had found her, left an indelible mark on her soul and had liquefied her very bones. Leonhardt could have poured her into a jar and bottled her if he’d been so inclined.
When he pulled away the pillows and rolled her over so she was on her front, with her bottom now upward, she only bothered to turn her head to one side to breathe. A languor possessed her whole body. Maybe she had gone to heaven?