PT is back…Happy New Year!


Hello, my lovelies. Long time, no see! Hope you’ve all had a wonderful Christmas.

I’m making my New Year’s resolution early this year and vow to give it my best shot for as long as possible. I’m making this public announcement so I’ll feel liable if I don’t follow-through. And, if I’m really brave, I’ll even post my daily word count on Twitter and Facebook, just to keep me honest.

From this day forward, I will write at least 600 words every weekday, no matter if distractions come my way, or if I’m feeling ill, or if the words aren’t flowing freely. I’ve allowed myself to grow lazy. It stops. Now. Any amount of writing is better than no writing at all.

need to wipe off the dust and finish the projects I’ve started.

need to stop feeling sorry for myself and keep moving forward, even if I take the occasional step back.

need to forget about Ellora’s Cave and the sad predicament I’ve found myself stuck in.

need to forget about the wasted time of the past two years and all the negativity they brought with them.


will make this happen.

will remember why I started writing in the first place…and why I love it.

will remember that I’m not a quitter and no one can keep this statement true, but me.

will thank my husband more often for working so hard, every day, and for giving me the opportunity to follow my dream.

will not pick up a book to read before I’ve completed my daily word count, regardless of how tempting I know it will be. Reading will be my reward.

will not ignore my muse any longer. She’s chomping at the bit and needs my constant attention and adoration for her to survive and flourish. Without it, she will jump ship and leave me stranded with regrets and a bad taste in my mouth.



The bad-arse PT is back–out of hibernation–and she’s taking no prisoners. We aren’t in Kansas anymore, Toto.

2016…you will be my bitch, and you’ll like it!

Do you have any New Year’s resolutions? Care to share?


FRAMED – A Picture Tells A Thousand Words


I am a #PYB Wordy Warrior and I’m so proud to be part of this non-profit anthology. Cancer has taken way too many of my family and friends, so when I was offered this opportunity I jumped at it.

Framed is a book put together by Protect Your Breasts in order to raise money for Cancer Research, but rather than put the book on sale, it’s being given as a “Thank You” gift for donations made through their Just Giving Page.


Framed is a collection of twenty-eight stories–each one thousand words in length–written by one of twenty-eight writers, collectively known as the #PYB Wordy Warriors.


All the tales in this anthology are inspired by the picture above. Every story is different, every writer’s way with words unique, but they stand united for the cause. Fear, love, pain and freedom; you’ll find it all in this book, on a heartbreaking and uplifting journey through beautiful prose.

The team of Wordy Warriors and the team at #PYB want to say a huge thank you for all your support and we hope you enjoy this collection.

You can get the full list of #PYB Wordy Warriors and more details about this project here

Here’s how you can help this cause and get your hands on this book step-by-step:

Protect Your Breasts is a non-profit campaign ran by Lisa Fulham and V to raise awareness for the importance of self-examination for the signs of Breast Cancer.

You can follow and support #PYB in the following places:




Together let’s make C stand for Clear, not Cancer

W.E.T. – Vol #2



Following on from W.E.T. Vol #1, here are some more tips you might find handy. Again, this is only my opinion, taken from the knowledge I’ve acquired since becoming a published author. Some of them you might already be aware of, some you may not. Regardless, I hope you find something helpful. I was fortunate to have an exceptional editor who I sincerely miss working with (she’s a full-time author now). This is my small way of paying it forward.

  • Omit all unnecessary words. Don’t fill your manuscript with unnecessary words for the sake of meeting your desired word count. It’s more important to produce quality rather than quantity. There are way too many examples I could list here, so I’ll just mention a few, which I find most commonly used:

Began – The overuse of this word drives me nuts and I see it in stories all too often. Characters should do things, not begin to do them. Delete the word and go straight to the action.

Incorrect: ‘He began to undo his shirt.’

Correct: ‘He undid his shirt.’

Of – A word often used unnecessarily.

E.g. Use ‘inside her’ instead of ‘inside of her’, ‘off him’ instead of ‘off of him’.

Was – In many cases it’s not needed.

E.g. Instead of ‘Barry was shaking his head’, use ‘Barry shook his head’.

In order to – It’s just as clear to merely say, ‘to’.

Made their way – This phrase is majorly overused and completely unnecessary. It’s gotten to the point that I cringe every time I see it in a story.

E.g. ‘She made her way into the room.’

Better to simply say, ‘She stepped into the room.’

Now – Try to use the word sparingly.

E.g. ‘She was now thirty-one.’

Just say, ‘She was thirty-one.’

E.g. ‘She’d been out of the dating game for so long now.’

Just say, ‘She’d been out of the dating game for so long.’

  • Not always, but generally speaking, the adverb goes before the verb it modifies.

E.g. ‘She was compelled to avert her eyes from his when he held her gaze intently for minutes at a time without distraction.’

In the sentence above, ‘intently’ is too far away from ‘held’.

Correct: ‘She was compelled to avert her eyes from his when he intently held her gaze for minutes at a time without distraction.’

  • Redundant words. Here are just a few:

‘He shrugged his shoulders’ – No need to include ‘his shoulders’, just say ‘he shrugged’.

‘She rose up off the chair’ – You can’t rise down so just say ‘she rose off the chair’.

‘The reason is because…’ – Leave off ‘because’, there is no need for it.

‘She pursed her lips together’ – Leave off ‘together’. To purse your lips means they are pressed together.

‘She waved her hand at him’ – Just say ‘she waved’.

‘Breathing in and out’ – You can’t breathe up and down. It’s enough to just say ‘breathe’.

  • Dialogue tags – Almost 100% of the time, if your character has an action which is connected to a piece of dialogue we don’t need the ‘he said/she said’ part. It gets repetitive for the reader. Below is an excerpt out of my book, Starstruck. Notice I’ve not used any dialogue tags because the actions tell the reader who is speaking.

‘The dark-haired man walked quickly back in their direction but stopped in front of Sam. “Is there anything I can get you?”

“Don’t happen to have a mailbox under that bar of yours, do you?” She unleashed what she hoped was a cheeky grin, picking up the envelope and waving it back and forth.

“No, but the airport does have a mailroom. I’d be more than happy to add this to tomorrow’s outgoings for you.” He plucked the envelope from her fingers and flashed a seductive smile before addressing Jesse. “What can I get you, my friend?”

  • Show vs Tell – A “tell” can be identified by the words, ‘he/she looked’, but also when the prose “tells” something rather than creating a picture, or “showing” for the reader.

E.g. ‘He sighed heavily, feeling sorry for himself, and closed his eyes, lazing back on the bed.’

The underlined part is the “tell” in this sentence and can be taken out altogether. It’s always best to just “show” and allow the reader to make their own assumptions about how the character is feeling.

E.g. ‘He seemed ashamed to be the bearer of bad news.’

To “show” in this sentence, you could try something like… ‘He slumped, shaking his head as if ashamed to be the bearer of bad news.’ Now the reader can “see” how he is acting ashamed.

E.g. ‘She looked confused.’

Think about what physically happened on her face to convey her confusion. You could say something like… ‘Her brow creased in confusion.’ Now we can “see” she frowned.

E.g. ‘He looked happy.’

How so? Try something like… ‘He grinned, happiness sparkling in his eyes like the sun breaking from behind the clouds.’

See the difference? We want to “show” as much as possible and create a picture for the reader instead of “telling” them. Your readers are smart; don’t assume they need to be “told”.


Happy writing…and editing!

W.E.T. – Vol #1



Whether you’re a novice or a seasoned writer, no one can get away without having to edit their manuscript. It can be a daunting process—if you let it—but a good polishing will do your book wonders, taking it from mediocre to something great.

Now, I’m not here to claim I’ve mastered the art of editing because that would be far from the truth, but I have a few tips to offer that others may find useful. Keep in mind that the information below is only my opinion, taken from the knowledge I’ve acquired since becoming a published author. Take it or leave it, but I believe it’s a good thing for writers to help writers. So, here’s Volume #1…I’ll try to keep them fairly short.

  • Find your crutch word/s and eliminate as many as possible. These are words that you overuse in your writing, repeating them again and again. A reader will pick up on them and, most likely, find it rather annoying, potentially discouraging them from reading your next book. When I wrote the first draft of my first novel, my crutch word was “that”. Not only did I overuse it, but the word is almost completely unnecessary in 95% of cases, and it’s considered a “junk word” in the literary world. Thank the heavens I had a wonderful editor who was quick to point it out to me.

  • Pay attention to which tense you are writing in. Whether it is past or present tense, choose one and stick to it throughout the story. The tense should be consistent.

  • Be careful not to repeat words within the same sentence, or even the same paragraph, wherever possible. Repetition annoys the reader, especially if you do this often. Here’s an example of what NOT to do:

‘His lips crushed hers with a ravenous kiss. Their lips moved with wanton desperation, their hands frenzied, exploring curves and muscles. He flicked his tongue between her lips and she opened for him, her lips and tongue matching his passion.’

  • Don’t flood your manuscript with large blocks of detail, space them out throughout the story. Stick to the important details which will move your story forward, not bore the reader. E.g. A full page explaining what a house looks like will make the reader skim your work, possibly missing that one line which may be detrimental to the plot.

  • Filters – Filters disguise themselves as the five senses. It is always important to write using your senses; however, the trick is not to use the words, saw/see/seeing, felt/feel/feeling, heard/hear/hearing, etc. wherever possible. These are filter words and they create distance between your POV character and the reader, reminding them that they are reading a story.

E.g. ‘Samantha heard the door slam.’

In the sentence above we have the information of what she heard, however, Samantha heard the door slam, not the reader. To make the impact immediate so the reader hears the door slam at the same time as Samantha, try:

‘A door slammed, the vibrations reverberating in the soles of her feet.’

Now the reader “hears” and “feels” the door slam right along with Samantha.

E.g. ‘She felt his hand slide up her back.’

That’s all well and good, and there’s nothing technically wrong with the sentence, but how did it feel? What was the sensation she experienced? Try something like:

‘His hand slid up her back, the heat of his palm warming her skin through her silk gown.”

Now the reader can “feel” it.

E.g. ‘He saw a white van in the driveway.’

Again, nothing technically wrong with this sentence, but to make this immediate and have the reader “see” it at the same time as the character, we could use:

‘A white van sat in the driveway, the moonless night hiding the license plate in shadow.’

In conclusion, remove the filter, make the information immediate and use a “show” rather than a “tell” so the reader can see, hear, feel the same sensory information as your POV character.

That’s all from me for now, but look out for future posts on W.E.T as I have at least one more up my sleeve.

Editing 1

Happy writing…and editing!

True Colours


I knew you were no good

Right from the very start

I told you both how I felt

But you still captured her heart

I saw the clear signs

Saw the damage you could do

I tried to shelter her

From the evil likes of you

You twisted every story

To make yourself glow

But I knew the devil you hid

Knew the nastiness below

You made her feel beautiful

At one point in time

But your true colours showed

Your true intentions, your crime

She gave you everything she had

Never deserving her devotion

You took everything for granted

Set the wheels of hate in motion

Now she sees those true colours

For they are dark and dim

You are no longer her saviour

No longer her whim

You not only abused her trust

But her body and soul

And there will be no forgiveness

There will be no self-control

You have done your last dash

I’ll stand by and watch no more

You hurt her again

And I’ll settle the score

She’s too good for you

And now she finally sees

You no longer lock her heart

For only she holds the keys

Be gone, bad choices

Be gone, cruel anomaly

She no longer wants you

She has us, her true family.

©Paige Thomas 2014

A poem… Decisions




Blatant lies and distrust

But I know the truth

False accusations?

Oh, I have the proof

I could stand up and shout

For all the world to see

But I’m not that vindictive

That just wouldn’t be me

I could seek further counsel

Let honor be true

Though I refuse to waste more energy

Even thinking of you

My head is held high

My smarts are on straight

Refuse to tarnish my heart

With this nonsense and hate

I’ll walk on my own

As my fate sees fit

And trust in the knowledge

I’ll survive with true grit

I’ll value the lessons

I’ve learnt on the way

Keep the good memories close

And the bad ones at bay

Goodbye to ill choices

Make room for the well

I’ve no time for the wicked

They can all go to hell

Bring on positivity

The good and the just

I’ll continue to mold stories

Of romance and lust

My soul’s full of purpose

My future is bright

I renounce all the politics

Leave me be, let me write

© Paige Thomas 2014

A short story… The Contract

The Contract



Piper Maddison sat in her old run-down kitchen, her hands trembling as she allowed the contract to fall from her fingers to the table. When Mr. Corby had personally handed her the plain white envelope on her last day working for Corby Industries, and insisted it not be opened until after she arrived home, she didn’t expect to find what it contained.

She’d taken the three month temp position while his long-standing personal assistant was on maternity leave. Now, Piper found herself unemployed once more and within a matter of weeks the bills would quickly accumulate and remain unpaid unless she found another job—and fast.

For the second time, she scanned the handwritten note which accompanied the two-page document, the black ink scrawled across the thick, embossed paper causing her heart to pound wildly in her chest.

Was the man certifiably insane?

Mitchell Corby was a highly successful, extremely attractive businessman. What the hell did he want with her? There was nothing about her that screamed “whore”, so why was she being propositioned like one?

The message was short and to the point:


Ms. Maddison,

Please find enclosed contract for your consideration.

Should you choose to accept my offer, sign and deliver

to me personally at my home address this Sunday, 3 p.m.

sharp. If you decline, I wish you every success in your

future endeavors.




Hell would freeze over before she would sign such a contract, even if he was offering to pay her more than ten times the salary she’d earned at Corby Industries. How could she reduce herself to such low levels?

Yes, some of the duties were legit—working at his home office as his PA, collecting his dry cleaning, watching over the workmen who would perform the renovations he’d scheduled to have done to his house this spring—but the rest? No fucking way!


5.1: Be available 24/7, Thursday-Monday every week.

5.2: Submit to all sexual demands, within limits (to be discussed).

5.3: Grant exclusive rights to your body whilst contract is in effect (no exceptions).

5.4: You shall only wear approved clothing (full wardrobe supplied).

5.5: Contract will expire immediately upon written request by either party.


The man must be on drugs, deranged. He had to be! What would stop her from going public with his offer and outing him for the sadistic animal he really was? He was well-respected and revered within the community. This incriminating evidence could kill his impeccable reputation with one fell swoop.

Her hands wouldn’t stop shaking. With a scream of frustration she crumpled the small note and tossed it in the bin in the corner of the room before storming into her bathroom. A warm, relaxing soak was what she needed. Her blood pressure was rising higher by the second and she’d have to calm down if she intended to get any sleep at all. She was mentally exhausted.

Saturday morning, she woke with a killer headache. She’d gotten very little rest, tossed and turned all night, her mind reeling with thoughts of how to murder Mr. Corby and successfully hide the body. How dare he want to use her as a sexual slave! He’d appeared so normal in the office, so professional, but his proposal was far from the image he upheld. She was having a hard time getting her head around his offer.

Piper had been in all of three relationships since high school, each very vanilla in nature. What Mr. Corby was suggesting was more of the Neapolitan variety. What was he planning? Did he have a “Fifty Shades” lifestyle? Did he intend to tie her up and spank her ass raw?

Fuck that!

No matter how poor she was at the moment, she was not going to be anyone’s slave, and she didn’t find pain or degradation appealing, whatsoever. The very thought of submitting to a man and allowing him to dominate not only her body, but her life, made her stomach churn.

She’d walked out on her fiancé, Simon, ten months earlier. He’d been the perfect boyfriend during the first two years of their courtship, though shortly after she’d accepted his diamond ring he’d shown his true colors. He didn’t want a companion of his equal. No, he wanted a Stepford wife, a dependent woman who would obey whenever he said, “Simon says”. She would die a lonely spinster in a house full of feral cats before she’d allow herself to lose her pride and integrity by being that kind of woman.

She would not be tamed.

After spending most of the day cleaning her small apartment from top to bottom and then driving to the store to stock up on Ramen noodles and canned soup, she poured herself some wine and finally put her feet up. She didn’t usually drink, but it seemed as good a time as any to sample the bottle of wine she’d been given as a termination present.

Sunday was a day filled with nervous energy. Again, she’d hardly slept and, after bringing her breakfast back up, decided against having lunch, choosing to stick to water. Three o’clock was fast approaching and the tick of the clock on the kitchen wall seemed louder than usual. Her entire body hummed like a live wire as she paced, unable to keep still for more than two seconds.

Each time she passed the counter her eyes shot to the set of keys lying beside her handbag, as if the carved metal pieces held the answers. She had no intention of taking Mr. Corby up on his offer, but debated whether to ignore the incident completely or drive over to his house and tell him exactly what he could do with his contract.

She stopped in front of the counter, placed her hands on the fake marble surface and tapped her fingers as she glanced at the clock for the millionth time. It was 2:45 p.m.

It’s now or never.

She swiped her keys, grabbed her bag and shot out the door.

The drive to Mr. Corby’s took a little longer than expected. She hadn’t ventured into the north of the city many times and the traffic was heavier on this side of town.

She doubted her decision and almost turned her car around several times, but if she didn’t get the anger out of her system it would eat at her until it drove her crazy. As past history had shown, she’d regret not confronting him and giving him a piece of her mind.

The time was 3:12 p.m. when she finally pulled up outside the property. His house wasn’t an overly obnoxious design, but it was right on the beach and spoke of money.

Folded contract in hand, she got out of her car and inhaled a deep breath, tasting salt in the air. She was late and her lips formed a victorious smile. Take that, Mr. Corby!

After passing his silver Mercedes in the drive, Piper approached the front door and didn’t hesitate to knock. If she didn’t get this over with quickly, she’d lose her nerve and run back to the safe shell of her car.

Seconds flew by as she tapped the toes of one of her fifteen-dollar ballet flats against the black slate tiles of his porch. She raised her hand, about to knock a second time, when the door swung open before her knuckles made contact with the black wood.

Mitchell Corby stepped beneath the archway before leaning his shoulder against the wooden frame, arms crossed at his chest, the corner of his mouth twitching with a smirk. Her gaze swept over the length of his body and she refused to acknowledge how good he looked in worn jeans and a black button-down shirt. He even had nice feet, and the sight of her normally immaculately dressed ex-boss barefoot was strangely erotic.

No wonder he’s a sexual freak. No one can look this perfect without having some kind of hidden flaw.

He cleared his throat and her eyes darted back to his before he spoke. “You’re late.”

She glared at him. “You’re an asshole.”

His smirk widened as he pushed off the doorframe and then stepped aside, sweeping his hand into the room. “Won’t you please come in, Ms. Maddison?”

She squared her shoulders and accepted his invitation with a nod before crossing the threshold into the sparse foyer. The walls were dark gray with white trim and the only decorations were a black framed mirror on the wall and a thin black table below it where a small glass dish and a vase of fresh white roses sat.

She jumped a little as the latch of the door clicked loudly behind her. The sound triggered a rush of adrenaline to course through her veins. She was both angry and nervous, and with the clash of emotions her hands trembled and her pulse quickened.

“I’m glad you showed up, though it was very rude of you to be late. I insist on punctuality.”

Heat rose to her cheeks as she spun around, her nerves suddenly taking a back seat as anger took over. With two steps, she quickly eliminated most of the space between them and thrust the contract against his chest. “Fuck you. How dare you give me this!”

He didn’t flinch.

Slowly, he slid the sheets of paper out from beneath her hand and then flicked to the last page. His eyes paused a moment on the blank line where her signature would have been if he’d had his way. A scowl briefly etched his forehead—a mar of imperfection on an otherwise perfectly chiseled face—but as he refolded the document the furrowed lines disappeared and his features relaxed, a closed book once more. “I think you could use a drink,” he said, as he brushed past her and padded into the adjoining room.

She swore under her breath and reluctantly followed.

The living room was darkened but for the dimmed lamps, one in the corner of the room and the other on top of the side table beside an oversized couch. Heavy navy drapes covered the windows, preventing the sun from brightening the room. The atmosphere was seductive and smelled faintly of musk perfume.

He led her to the leather couch. “Please, take a seat.”

“I don’t want to sit down and I don’t want a drink. I came here to have my say and then I’ll be gone.” She stepped closer to his tall, muscular frame and poked his hard chest with her finger. “Your offer made me sick to my stomach. What makes you think I can be bought like this? I may not have much, but I’m not short on self-respect…not to mention you’ve insulted my intelligence, Mr. Corby.”

His crystalline blue eyes locked onto hers as he wrapped his palm around her stabbing finger before guiding their joined hands down to her side. The pad of his thumb caressed a lazy pattern across the top of her hand and her treacherous body reacted, his soft touch sending tingles up her arm.

He pulled her closer and leaned his head down until his cheek brushed hers. “I’m not trying to buy you or disrespect you, and I’m very aware of how intelligent you are, pretty girl. I’ve been watching you at the office for the past three months.”

Warm breath blew over her ear and with every syllable he uttered her insides quivered. His voice was smooth, like melted chocolate, and as much as she hated to admit it, she was tempted to bathe in his deep tones.

He pressed his lips against the skin below her ear. “Just give me an hour of your time, that’s all I ask. If you still hate me after that, I’ll tear up the contract and you’ll never hear from me again.”

She scowled, unsure if her displeasure came from his words or because he’d dropped her hand and taken a small step back. “What difference would an hour make? There’s nothing you could say that would make me change my mind.”

“Then let me show you what I can do for you. I’m not the only one who will take pleasure from this arrangement.” He tossed the contract onto the side table.

“You know, you’re extremely cocky, Mr. Corby.”

He held her gaze as his lips slowly curled into a smirk which could have won the devil’s own heart. “Yes, I am.”

A shiver ran the length of her body as images of what that smirk might look like while he was naked suddenly invaded her mind. She wanted to shake her head as if it were an Etch-A-Sketch, wipe the mental picture before she did something completely stupid… like take him up on his absurd offer.

She cleared her throat. “And what number am I on your list?”


“Yeah, you know, how many other women have you offered this kind of contract to?”

“Including you?”

She nodded.


Her jaw dropped with a gasp of surprise and he took advantage, threading his fingers through her hair as his mouth crashed onto her lips, his tongue confidently sliding between them.

It had been so long since she’d been kissed so passionately and once again her body betrayed her, weakened at the knees, relented for the beautiful man behind the beast. Their mouths moved in sync and her tongue met his with an embarrassing eagerness as she slid her palm up his chest. His hand glided down her spine and settled on her lower back, pulling her close. He was hard against her hip and behind her closed eyelids it was as if she were riding a roller coaster. With each dip of his tongue her stomach jolted and she was free-falling.

He removed her hand from his chest and wound it around his neck before encasing her in both arms, his hands dropping to her ass. His hips ground against her as his lips continued to seduce.


What the hell was she doing? This was not why she came here.

With new resolve she pushed him away.  “I should leave.”

His eyes widened, for just a brief moment, before he appeared relaxed once more. “Please, not yet. Let me show you something first.” He ran his hand though his dark brown hair and held her stare. “Afterward, if you still want to leave I’ll walk you to your car myself.”

Something within his determined gaze told her he was being honest and she could trust him enough to favor this one request. She’d take a peek at whatever he wanted to show her and then she was out of there.

He held out his hand and she hesitantly took hold, allowing him to guide her across the room and down the long hallway of his home. Upon reaching the last door he retrieved a key from the front pocket of his dark gray jeans and slid it into the lock at the center of the doorknob.

A drop of sweat trickled down the back of her neck. “Why do you keep it locked?”

He squeezed her hand. “Because this room is private and I have a housekeeper who comes in twice a week. You can never be too careful.”

Her heart sped when he pushed the door open and pulled her inside. The room was lit with dozens of white candles, some littered the floor and there were several scattered across the walls on top of small wooden shelves just big enough to hold them. He still had a grip on her hand as he closed the door behind them. Her eyes spiked with fear. He’d brought her into his personal torture chamber.

There was a large wooden cross on the far wall which almost reached the ceiling, chains and leather cuffs at each point. A leather swing-type contraption hung from the rafters in the middle of the room and there were several padded benches and tables which also had leather cuffs or metal rings attached to each corner. She’d read about this in novels. She was inside his playroom.

The last piece of furniture her eyes landed upon was a large closet in the far corner. It was cherry red and glossy, and its shine seemed out of place in the room.

“You look frightened.” His brow scrunched as he let go of her hand and rubbed the back of his neck. “I promise, there’s no need to be. Regardless of how sinister some of this equipment may look, everything in here is designed for pleasure, not pain. I’m a dominant lover but I wish you no pain, pretty girl. That’s not what I’m about.”

Her eyes were wide with disbelief, her heart racing, and no matter how much she attempted to appear unfazed by the room she couldn’t control her physical reaction or her instinct to flee.

She finally found her voice. “Y-you said you hadn’t done…this…before, that I was the first woman you’d approached. Forgive me if I don’t believe a word of it, but this doesn’t look like the setup of a novice to me. Are you trying to play me for a fool, Mr. Corby?”

He sighed. “Please, call me Mitch. We aren’t in the office anymore.” He strolled to the end of the bed and then sat, patted the space on the white duvet beside his thigh. “Come sit.”

She shook her head.

“Please? I want to explain.”

“I’d rather stand, thank you.”

He tilted his head to the side. “You did agree to give me an hour of your time.” He peered down at his watch. “I believe I still have fifty minutes left on the clock.”


He was right. She had agreed.

She nodded, her eyes absorbing the room once more before she sat beside him and rested her gaze on her lap.

He shifted on the bed. “I can only imagine what’s running through your head right now. You must think I’m a total deviant.”


“I assure you, I’m not. I’m just a man looking for no strings attached, and I want what I want, how I want it…when I want.”

“You think I’m a woman who can be put on call?”

“No, that’s not how I like to think of it.”

“Then, how do you think of it? Because the impression I’ve gotten so far is not looking good in your favor.”

“I’d like to think of it as two people who don’t want the hassle of a full-blown relationship, but take the good parts and accentuate them, nourish them.”

“You want a fuck buddy who’s at your beck and call and not afraid to walk into this room, is what you want.”


“I see.”

She had to give him props. He wasn’t backwards in coming forward. No one would know if she signed the contract. No one would know how desperate she was for human contact. No one would know how excited she really was to see this room.

“Why don’t you just get yourself a girlfriend, someone who likes a bit of kink? “she asked.

His hand wove into her lap, his fingers entwined with hers. “Because a girlfriend is the last thing I need. I don’t mean to sound callous, but I don’t have the time for one and when I am with a woman I like to be in control. I don’t want the emotional attachment a girlfriend brings. I don’t want to meet the parents. I don’t want the white picket fence and two-point-three kids. I want great sex, when I want it and with whom I want it. For now, I want that person to be you.”

She rolled her eyes, removed her hand from his, and then picked imaginary lint off her dress. “Oh, how flattering.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Do you not like great sex?”

Her fingers stopped moving. She was speechless. She couldn’t voice her innermost feelings. How would she be perceived if she did? Deep down she wanted him to ravage her and take all he wanted. She wanted him to pleasure her but could she actually sign the contract and still sleep at night with a clear conscience? Could she work for the man during the day and then fuck him by night? Could she truly submit to his desires and not form any kind of emotional attachment? She finally settled for, “Whether I like great sex or not is beside the point.”

He sighed. “Is it? Honestly?”

Before she could answer, his lips were upon her, cleverly coaxing her to agree to his every whim. His kiss was sensual and deep, his tongue teasing as he wove his fingers through her hair to cradle her head in his hands. She moaned into his mouth and clutched the front of his shirt as he pushed her back onto the bed. Her legs parted and his hips filled the space, rubbed against her as his lips left her mouth and traveled down her neck.

He gently nibbled the flesh below her ear before whispering over her skin, “Take my offer.” He lifted his head and pierced her with those clear blue eyes. “You know how much I work from my home office. During the day, I need someone reliable who’s capable of assisting me. But…during the nights you spend with me, you are all mine. We’ll visit this room often and I guarantee you’ll love every minute of it.” His mouth returned to her lips as if he was famished and she was his only nourishment.

She whimpered as their tongues touched and the glide of his hands down the side of her neck and over her breast made her back arch and her hips grind against him. She had no control over her body’s reaction to his touch. She wanted a taste of what he had to offer even though a large part of her was scared to embrace it.

He popped open the top two buttons of her sundress and then slipped his hand beneath the purple fabric, rubbed his palm across her black lace bra. Her nipples hardened instantly and she wanted her clothes gone.

His hand slipped out of her dress as he rolled to lie on his side. She wanted his touch back. He grabbed hold of her fingers and pulled them to his groin, pressed them against his denim-clad cock. “I’ve been hard for you since you first walked into my office three months ago.”

She squeezed and he groaned against her shoulder. “Oh, the things I want to do to you,” he whispered.

Swallowing her inhibitions, she ran her hand beneath his shirt and up his chest, dragged the cotton until his muscled torso was exposed. She tipped his chin back so their eyes could meet. “You have roughly forty minutes left. So, show me.”

He growled as he instantly tore his shirt off and sat up, pulled her with him to stand by the bed before leading her to a padded leather table. “Take off your dress.”

She shivered from his words, his gaze fixed to her cleavage. “What are you going to do to me?”

He stepped closer, his nimble fingers undoing the remaining buttons on her dress before sweeping it behind her shoulders, allowing it to fall to the ground at her feet. The backs of his fingertips brushed down between her breasts and stopped at the clasp of her bra. He flicked the metal clip open and then pulled on the straps until they slid down her arms and joined her dress.

He bent at the knees and then his mouth and tongue were on her nipple as he cupped the flesh of her breasts in his hands. His teeth grazed the pebbled peak and her head fell back, the ends of her hair tickling the top of her ass.

Her feet left the ground as he picked her up and placed her on the table. “I’m going to give you the best orgasm of your life.”

Gently, he pushed her to lay back, her legs dangling over the edge. Soft fingers teased the edge of her panties before he pulled them over her hips, down her legs and off her feet. He parted her legs as he swept his palms up the inside of her thighs, over her hips and waist, collecting her hands to place above her head. The harsh rip of Velcro unfastening sounded in her ears and then, one by one, her wrists were secured to the top corners of the table.

He gave her a satisfied smirk. “Now, don’t move.”

She followed him with her gaze as he strolled across the room to the glossy red closet. He opened the doors but with his back turned she couldn’t see what he was up to. Inhaling a deep breath, she willed her eyes to close and attempted to slow the rapid beat of her heart.

Moments later, her eyelids flickered open when something brushed her knee. He leaned and hovered over her, his hips between her legs. “I have some toys I think you might enjoy.”

A silver chain dropped from his hand, dangling from his index finger. At each end was a small silver clamp. “Do you know what these are?”

A gush of air left her lungs as she forced her stare to move to his face. She hedged a bet. “Nipple clamps?

“Correct. Have you used them before?”

She shook her head. “No, but I’ve read about them.”

He chuckled. “You’ve read about them? What, like in erotic fiction?”

She scowled. “Yes, in books.”

His fingers none-to-gently tweaked her right nipple. “Oh, pretty girl, we can do much better than read about it in stories.”

Her back arched off the table and then both her nipples were being pinched, cold metal shocking her just as much as the sting of the clamps. No, she didn’t enjoy pain, but this sensation was different. Tendrils of lust shot straight down her body and ended in a dull throb between her legs.

He rose and pulled on the chain, eliciting a hiss from her lips as her back arched even further. “I’m going to show you what I intend to use, then I’m going to blindfold you. Okay?”

She straightened her spine and nodded, her back reunited with the leather.

He held up a small metal device which had a sparkling blue jewel on the end along with a bottle of lube. She swallowed the lump in her throat as he cocked his eyebrow and placed the items beside her hip.

Next, he showed her the vibrator he intended to use. She had a rabbit at home and, though his was different, it was about the same size. Last, he produced a black lace blindfold, neatly folded layers of fabric.

His smirk was the final image her eyes feasted on before her vision was blackened and the lace tied at the back of her neck.

Hands moved to her hips and pulled until her ass hung over the edge of the table. A small cushion was placed beneath her lower back and she was thankful, the position no longer uncomfortable. He spread her legs wide and pushed her knees back, the scraping sound of Velcro once again filling her ears, this time, her thighs strapped down.

Silence followed and the white noise soon became unbearable.

Her body jolted when the wick of a candle popped and echoed throughout the room. Her ears were on high alert.

Something soft and wet rasped over her pussy.

Oh god, his tongue.

Fingers parted her lower lips and his tongue delved between them. She tried to buck her hips against his mouth but the restraints kept her movement to a minimum. She surrendered and sighed as he sucked on her clit, two of his digits slipping inside her.

Moaning, she tried to gain more friction but he wouldn’t allow it, slowly thrusting his fingers in time with the lash of his tongue.

Way too soon, his luscious mouth was gone…but he didn’t leave her hanging for long. When he returned, he leaned his chest against her breasts and kissed her as a cold, slick finger toyed with her rear hole. The pad slipped around the rim before pushing inside, spreading the cool gel in and around her virginal place.

“It won’t hurt at all if you just relax,” he whispered.

He slithered down her body before his mouth latched onto her clit and he eased the butt plug inside her ass. She was stretched but it wasn’t painful, the plug only small. He flicked his tongue and she mewled against her own shoulder.

Without warning, the vibrator thrust into her core and she cried out for more when he switched it on. He worked her to the brink of insanity, her chest heaving and the lick of his tongue becoming rare as the muscles in her lower abdomen clenched and prepared for a mind-blowing release. She’d never been so full, so blissed out by a multitude of stimulation.

The beautiful torture on her clit disappeared altogether and so did the vibrator. She wanted to whine and bitch. She was so close.

Quickly, he released her from the binds and pulled her by the arms to stand, tugging her forward until she followed. After a few paces he turned her, the backs of her knees pressed against something soft.

The bed.

A zipper unzipped and the shuffle of his jeans falling down his legs was music to her ears.

His warm palm caressed her lower back before his body meshed against hers, toppling them both onto the bed. He grasped underneath her arms and shoved her toward the top of the mattress. “I want to be inside you the first time I make you come.”

His hips rocked from side to side as her legs opened and wrapped around him. His lips pressed against hers as his cock slid inside her pussy, a grunt breathed into her mouth. “Take my offer,” he said, on a moan, pulling almost all the way out before slamming their hips together.

She wound her arms around his back and lifted her lower body in time with his thrusts. The plug was still inside her and each time he was fully sheathed his balls pressed the molded toy in a little further. Her heels dug into his ass as he quickened his pace.

“You’re so close, I can feel it,” he gasped, pulling out completely before rising to his knees. He grabbed hold of her thighs and spread them wide, raised them, held them against his stomach before plunging his cock back inside. Each slap of his hips was more forceful on the plug and she imploded, her entire body shaking from the impact. He continued pounding into her as the orgasm of her life electrified her entire being. Her legs locked around his waist and her back arched off the bed as he thrust several more times before spilling inside her.

Time began again and his heavy breath reached her ears as he flopped on top of her wilted frame.

Eventually, he removed her blindfold and lifted his body, braced above her on his elbows beside her head.

“Take my offer,” he whispered.

She smiled. “Where do I sign?”




The lovely S.J. Warner asked me to participate in a word prompt challenge – #LaceChallenge – and I humbly accepted. This story is the result! Make sure to pop on over to S.J’s blog and check out all the other fabulous entries of poetry and short stories. Happy reading!