Release Date: 27 February 2014
WARNING: DARK THEMES, EXPLICIT CONTENT
Has Mara lost control, or has it been taken from her?
Mara Cantor’s life is boring and uncomplicated, and she likes it that way. She has her internship at the museum—a job she shares with her roommate, Davis—and while it is low-paying and occasionally mind-numbing, it gives her all the free time she needs to finish her thesis. And that is just fine.
But when Argent Leeds, the internationally famous playboy and raconteur, visits Mara’s museum, he brings with him the most exciting archeological discovery in decades: the Pazuzu gemstones. Long assumed to be nothing more than a myth by most scholars, the gemstones are rumored to possess mystical powers.
Between Argent, his gemstones, and Davis, Mara’s boring life has suddenly gotten very complicated. Now she is caught up in a sexual adventure that is either the most exciting time of her life . . . or the most terrifying.
My Opinion 3 STARS
**ARC Provided by Netgalley and The Writer's Coffee Shop Publishing House for an honest review**
This book leads you along quite nicely and you think its a fairly pleasant ride until two thirds of the way through. The book then abruptly turns into a dark WTF.
Certainly not for the faint-hearted but as i said the whole thing twists on its head the the darker uglier side comes out to play.
There is an erotic aspect to this book along with a thriller and paranormal aspect and it starts out as an ordinary erotic romance.
This book wont suit those who like generic romance books, but will those who like a bit of grit.
Excerpt
When Nina first saw the rack, she thought it would be funny to try it out
just once, to see what it felt like to be attached to one. She told Marcus this
and he laughed, but then he suggested she give it a try because why not? That
was what the toys were there for—touching, exploring, maybe some shopping even.
Nathan was a pervert, but his perversions had some taste, he said.
The rack looked like a sturdy, freestanding drying rod for clothing,
except it was bolted to the floor and had chains dangling from the top bar with
cuffs on the end. A second set of cuffs ran along the bottom bar. It took very
little imagination for either of them to figure out how it was used.
Nina first stood under the middle bar and held up her arms so Marcus
could clamp in her wrists. There was a thin layer of padding inside the metal
cuff that made them a little bit more comfortable when tightened, for which she
was grateful. At the time, Nina was only thinking she’d be locked into the
manacles for a short while, so the degree of comfort was only a passing
concern. Without the padding, she soon realized, her wrists would have been
bloody messes.
But before she discovered that, Marcus had to finish attaching her.
He knelt down in front of her and looked at the ankle cuffs before concluding
that they would only fit Nina if she first took off the boots.
The boots were what made the outfit she’d picked out for herself. It was
not nearly as daring as some of the other costumes she’d seen over the course
of the evening. It was essentially a French maid outfit, if the maid was a
dominatrix. But the boots were the thing everyone loved, and so she loved them,
too.
She hadn’t wanted to remove them. But she did want to feel what the cuffs
felt like on her ankles, so when Marcus found the zipper that ran up the back
of the knee and started pulling off the first boot, she didn’t protest. Truly,
with her hands chained she could have done little more than complain, and when
she realized that, she got a little excited.
The boots came off, but then Marcus didn’t look like he was done taking
things off of her. How about we slip
these off, too, he said, and then
he put his hands up her skirt and slowly removed her panties. Nina thought she
was supposed to be stopping him, but again, even if she wanted to, it wouldn’t
have mattered, not with her hands cuffed.
She could have shouted. She’d heard someone on the other side of the room
shouting, but nobody had run off to see what was the matter because it didn’t
sound like a distressed scream. Nina decided then that if she was going to be
shouting, it would only be to make a sound like that. Because it was a carnal
sound. It was that sound that made Nina wonder what the rack was like, and why
when Marcus decided she needed to be naked from the waist down Nina didn’t
object. Anyone could have walked up and seen, except the skirt still covered
her so it wasn’t so bad as that. And if they could see, maybe that was okay, too.
Marcus knelt down again. When he did, his face was right near her clit,
and for a few rapid heartbeats Nina thought he was going to lean forward and
kiss her there. But then the cold metal was clamped around her ankles.
Nina had been faintly disappointed then, both because Marcus hadn’t
lingered below her waist and because once attached to the rack there was very
little to be said for the experience. She could stand and move around a little.
She couldn’t go anywhere, but that was all.
But then Marcus asked her if she was ready, and before she could answer,
he loosened the vise holding her left wrist to the top bar and pulled it until her arms were spread in
a Y formation and she couldn’t touch the ground any longer. And then he pulled
again, and she could feel the chain attached to her ankles going taut.
With a little work he was able to separate the ankle chains as well,
until her legs were open—not as wide as her arms but wide enough to expose her
labia to the air. Everything waist-down was fully exposed, in fact, since her
skirt rode up when her arms had been stretched.
Then she really couldn’t move.
That was when she would have asked Marcus to let her down had this still
been a fun little game, but something had changed in the room. Nina didn’t know
what that was—it was associated, in her mind, with the woman who had screamed,
especially after she heard a second scream—but this something made it okay for
Nina to stay where she was, chained and exposed.
Marcus felt it, too. He’d always taken care of her, financially and, in
his own way, sexually, but he wasn’t an adventurous sort. But there he was
telling her how blue her eyes were—which must have been the lighting, as her
eyes were green—and producing, from out of nowhere, a leather flail.
This Marcus was rougher. He always acted like he was afraid to hurt her,
but the Marcus with a flail in his hands seemed to want to. Not in a bad way—in the exact way she wanted. So he
grabbed her long hair and pulled her head back and whispered things in her ear
she’d never expected to hear from him. And then he unzipped the back of her
outfit and pulled, and when the sleeves created a problem, he yanked on them
until they tore and the costume ended up on the floor next to her boots, and
she was naked.
Gene Doucette is an award-winning screenwriter, novelist, playwright, humorist, essayist, father, husband, cyclist, dog owner - and a few other things, too. He is, in other words, a writer. A graduate of Boston College, he lives in Cambridge, MA with his family.
Sapphire Blue is Doucette's first foray into the erotic genre, and will be available for purchase in both paperback and e-book formats.
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