About Me
- Pamela Clare
- I grew up in Colorado at the foot of the Rocky Mountains, then lived in Denmark and traveled throughout Europe before coming back to Colorado. I have two adult sons, whom I cherish. I started my writing career as a columnist and investigative reporter and eventually became the first woman editor of two different papers. Along the way, my team and I won numerous state and several national awards, including the National Journalism Award for Public Service. In 2011, I was awarded the Keeper of the Flame Lifetime Achievement Award for Journalism. Now I write historical romance and contemporary romantic suspense.
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Monday, July 23, 2012
Sexcerpt Monday
Happy Monday!
This week is going to be a busy one. In addition to having a wicked writing deadline for Striking Distance, the next I-Team novel, I’m flying to Anaheim for the Romance Writers of America conference being held there July 25-28. It was a last-minute decision based largely on the fact that it gives me a chance to meet face to face with both my editor and my agent — and a chance to meet several of my readers who live in that area. I’m very excited about it!
I registered too late to participate in the big literacy signing that runs from 5 to 8 p.m. at the Anaheim Marriott, but I will be there with Defiant trading cards that I can sign for readers. So if you’re planning on attending, please look for me there!
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| I’ll be signing these at RWA. |
I thought it might be fun to play a little game with excerpts just for fun. I can pick a sexy excerpt from anything I’ve written, and you can try to guess what it’s from. I won’t give any clues, and names will be deleted from the scene. I’ve been posting little sexcerpts on my Facebook page, and readers seem to be enjoying them.
So, without further ado, here’s this snippet, written long before anyone heard of Fifty Shades of anything...
She
smoothed her skirts and looked around the room one last time. He’d arrive any
minute. The candles on her bedside table cast a warm glow over the room. The covers
of her bed were already turned down. In the middle of the bed lay the only pair
of shackles she’d been able to find on the plantation. Though old and unused
for years, they still worked. The key hung on a silken cord between her
breasts.
The
creaking of footfalls on the stairs told her he had come. She smoothed her
skirts nervously, her heart pounding. Could she really do this? She felt
herself start to smile, but forced it away. A quiet knock came at the door. The
handle turned. He stepped in and turned to close the door. He looked so
handsome, dressed in a clean linen shirt and breeches. She had to fight the
urge to rush forward and fall into his arms.
He turned toward her, staring. “You look beauti—”
“You’re
on time, convict.” It took every ounce of determination she had not to smile or
giggle. “That’s good. It will go easier on you.”
She could see in his eyes the moment he understood her game. His look of confusion
was replaced by surprise and then amusement before his gaze grew cold and hard.
“I’m to be punished, then?”
“I
can no longer tolerate your insolence, convict. I mean to teach you a lesson.”
It was good she had rehearsed her lines. It would have been impossible to say
them else. Was she really going through with this?
He
leaned against her bedpost nonchalantly, crossing his arms. Defiant and
confident, he reminded her so much of the man he’d been when she’d first
purchased his indenture. “And what makes you think I’ll cooperate, Mistress,
when I could just as easily break your pretty neck?”
“You’ll
find what I have in mind far more pleasant than what you’ll receive if you
disobey.”
“I
see.” His gaze raked over her body in blatant sexual appraisal, and she
shivered in anticipation. “And just what do you have in mind?”
“Undress—slowly.”
He
raised an eyebrow, then untied his shirt and slowly pulled it over his head. It
fell, forgotten, at his feet. Candlelight cast the bronzed muscles of his arms,
chest, and abdomen in glorious high relief. He reached for the opening of his
breeches and began to untie them, his muscles shifting beneath sun-bronzed
skin.
She felt desire flow like warm brandy through her veins. “Slowly, convict.”
His
gaze locked with hers again as ever so slowly he pulled on the ties, undid his
breeches, and let them drop to the floor. He was rock hard, his sex thick and
heavy.
She
found she could scarcely breathe. “Your hair. Remove the thong.”
Not
breaking eye contact, he reached back with one hand, and his dark hair slid
free, falling just below his shoulders. He looked untamed, fiercely male, and,
with his lash scars, not a little dangerous. He stepped toward her.
She
stepped back and pointed to the bed. “Stop! The shackles. Lock one end around
your right wrist, then pass the chain behind the bedpost, lie down, and lock
the other end around your left wrist.”
He
looked at the bed and saw the shackles. She heard his quick intake of breath
and saw a shadow pass over his face. Then it was gone.
“Don’t
you trust me, fair mistress?” His voice was dark as sin and soft as velvet. His
eyes held the allure of every man who’d ever tried to beguile a woman into a
false sense of sexual safety.
“Never.”
She smiled and spoke in a rich, seductive voice she didn’t know she had. “But I
will have your complete cooperation.”
“I
see.” Naked, he walked to the bed, picked up the shackles, and closed one end
around his right wrist. It locked with a click. He sat and moved backward
across the bed, then reached behind his head and passed the chain behind one of
the bedposts. “What makes you think these chains will protect you?”
“Do
it, convict.”
He
lay down, then reached back to cuff his left wrist. Click. He lay diagonally across the bed, completely vulnerable. His
arms were stretched over his head. His chest rose and fell with each breath.
His rigid sex stood defiantly against his abdomen. His legs, spread slightly,
stretched the length of the bed, his feet hanging just over the edge. A tremor
passed from her belly to her sex.
His
gaze, cold and menacing, bored through her. “Do you like what you see?”
“Aye,
convict. And it’s good for you that I do.” Almost trembling with excitement,
she loosened her bodice until her breasts were visible. Then she moved to the
bed and began to caress him, first his feet, then his ankles and calves. Where
her hands touched, her lips and tongue soon followed. She heard his breath
quicken, felt his muscles tense, and reveled in his response. She worked her
way up his muscular legs and over his powerful thighs, but, although she
touched the sac that carried his seed, she did not touch his shaft. “You’ve a
remarkable cock, convict.”
He
groaned in frustration. The chains caught on the bedpost, clinking as he
strained against them. “Is this to be my punishment then? To be tortured with
kisses, soft hands and words?”
Some
part of her she’d never known awoke within her, and she felt herself grow more
daring. Like a cat toying with its prey, she stretched across the bed beside
him. She ran her fingers teasingly on his abdomen, outlining his erection.
“Your
punishment is that you shall see, but you shall not touch. You shall want, but
you shall not receive—not until it pleases me.”
He
groaned again, and she kissed his chest. Her tongue found his flat, brown nipples,
and she licked and teased them. Her fingers savored the soft skin and hair of
his chest, felt the firm planes and ridges of his muscles. Everything about him
was intoxicating—the feel of him, his manly smell, the way his muscles tensed
beneath her touch. To have him in her power like this was the most intoxicating
thing of all, a heady elixir that heightened her senses and her hunger.
She
kissed a path along the valley that ran down the center of his belly, then took
his shaft in her hand. She’d learned a few things about pleasuring him since
the first time she’d tasted him, and she was going to put them all to good use.
Holding him firmly with one hand, she began to tease the head with her tongue,
tracing swirling shapes over, around, and under. Then she took him into her
mouth and began to move her mouth and hand together up and down his length,
laving him with her tongue all the while.
“Sweet
Jesus!” His eyes were closed, his brow furrowed. His hands gripped the chains
that held him fast. His hips matched her rhythm, and she could tell his
climax was near.
She
stopped, fondled his sac, and let his passion cool.
“Christ!”
His voice was ragged with arousal.
She found herself battling to control her own flaming desire. She’d never been in
control before, and the thrill of it was like a powerful wine coursing through
her blood. She wanted him inside her, but she could not, would not let herself
have him—not yet. She ravished him with her mouth and tongue again and again,
taking him to the brink, then stopping. His entire body was taut with unspent
passion, and the sounds that came from his throat told her he was as desperate
as she. Unable to bear it longer, she lifted her gown and straddled him. She
saw his pupils dilate when he felt his skin touch her bare thighs and bottom.
His
gaze devoured her. “I want to touch your breasts.”
She opened her bodice more, lifted her breasts so that he could see them, and
circled her nipples with her thumbs. “No.”
His
eyes held hot fury and lust. He jerked on his bonds, the muscles of his arms
and chest straining, but the chains held fast. “You are cruel.”
“But
not heartless. I want your cock inside me now. That ought to please you.” She rested her hands on his chest to balance her weight, then lifted her
hips and carefully guided him inside her.
They
moaned almost in unison as their bodies joined. She rode him, grinding against
him to pleasure herself. Though she knew it would not be enough to bring him to
climax, it was everything she needed. With him thick and hard deep inside her,
she quickly felt her peak near and let it wash gloriously over her as her
sheath contracted around him.
Her
cries of pleasure mixed with his tortured groans, and she knew his anguish was
real. She would have to end this game, or at least give him his reward for
playing along so nobly.
“Have
you learned your lesson, convict?” She reached between her breasts for the key
and dangled it before him.
Then
a hand clamped over her mouth, and, in a whirl of motion, she found herself
facedown on the bed, one arm bent behind her back.
“I
tried to warn you, mistress.” His voice was harsh. “You should never ask a
felon to lock himself up. He might not be trustworthy. Scream, and it will be
the last sound you make. Do you understand?”
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8 comments:
Easy, Sweet Release. I just got a copy on my nook & reread it last month. This is a good idea Pamela. Each time I read a clip, I want to read the book again.
I think this is one of my favorites, EVER. Sweet Release, read many times!
Sweet Release!! I love Alec. This is the only historical I've read and I loved it!! I'm about to start surrender, working my way to Defiant.
I think this is Sweet Release since I have not read this before and that is the only one of your historical novels I have not yet found at the bookstore.
I have this on my iPad and have never read it, but I'll be reading it now!
Easy peasy, of course it's 'Sweet Release'. The first of my fave PC novels, and I have to say, it runs the 'Mackinnon Trilogy' and the I-Team novels close.
Well, clearly this one was waaaay too easy! I'm going to have to get tougher... ;-)
Thanks to all you guessers. You got it right. And you know it.
Is there a reason that defiant is not available on kindle?