Harrold lives an empty life. He has no joy in his marriage, no love of his work. His only reprieve is found at the hands of the whores, the ones he pays to beat and debase him. Upon being accepted into Blue Moon House, he learns the real cost for his desires, and what underlying need is really aching to be filled.
A Blue Moon House Book 3
Angelica Dawson is the author of Blue Moon House, which has been in the top ten best-selling titles at Naughty Nights Press for over six months. She has also written two short stories, “The Highest Bidder” and “Leave Taking” which were each included in anthologies.
She contributes flash fiction to several blogging collectives and excerpts from work in progress can also be found on her blog. She is active on Facebook and Twitter.
She has been writing for several years and having sex a lot longer than that. Angelica is a wife, mother and environmental consultant. Her love of plants and the outdoors is not diminished by the bloodsucking hoards – mosquitoes and black flies, not vampires.
Let Angelica know what you think by leaving a comment and entering the Rafflecopter drawing below for a free copy!
“Where do you fear to go? How much is too much?”
“Red,” he murmured. “Red accounts, red balances, red debt. Seeing red.”
She nodded. “You might also use black,” she said with a smile. “If there's anything you want more of, when you want me to push harder, you can say black.”
Harrold smiled, relaxing. Whether it was her promise or this new means of communication, he felt better. “Thank you. What can I do for you?” he asked, leaning closer.
“Hmm.” Her eyes took him in slowly. “I think you should remove your shirt.”
Harrold readily obeyed, peeling away his jacket and shirt.
“Sit here,” she directed, pointing to the floor between her knees. She leaned him forward and began tracing his back. “How did you come by these?”
“Belt buckles and careless whores.”
“Did you reprimand them?” she asked, working her way lower.
He chuckled. “Actually, I told them to beat me harder.”
The situation seemed odd to Harrold. He was between her knees. If he faced the other way his nose would be in her sex, but instead she asked him questions.
“I don't know. It felt...better when I bled. The madams were quick to punish the girls if they found out.”
“When I couldn't avoid it.”
“Do you want more?” Opening the doors of the wardrobe, she dug around inside and came out with a whip. It was as long as she was tall, made of fine braided leather. The end was knotted with several straps flaring out. Harrold stiffened when he saw it, scrambling to his feet to stand nearer.
His chest rose and fell. His desire, he hoped, was clear on his face. Lynn turned slightly and cracked the whip. He almost erupted in his pants. Fighting with belt and fly, he rushed to get out of them.
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