Intimate Destruction

Intimate Destruction

Destiny Blaine

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Intimate Destruction is something no one ever wants to experience but Anya goes on a true search for it. Only, she doesn’t realize just how destroyed she can be by a man who plays with naughty toys.

Anya and her husband are swingers. Their lifestyle allows them to meet up with Julian and Katrina. Breaking all the rules of swinging, Anya wants to find Julian again after one night with him isn’t quite enough for a lifetime. When she finds him a year later, he isn’t as she remembers. Then again, he’s exactly as she wants him to be.

Julian is a Dom. Powerful in his BDSM lifestyle position; the women he takes to bed are submissive. Anya discovers the truth about him before she goes to his private suite, but she decides she can play the part. How hard can it be? She’s been swinging with her husband and other couples. The darker side couldn’t vary much by comparison.

When Anya meets up with Julian, she’s ready for the experience but he’s not sure she can handle him. Julian tells her that the last time they were together; she left him lusting for more. This time, it won’t happen. If she wants out, it’s time to cut her losses but Anya follows him into a secluded retreat where anything goes and everything does but the morning after is full of complications—and questions.

 
PUBLISHED BY: eXcessica publishing
ISBN:
PUBLICATION DATE: 2008
WORD COUNT: 13632
SEXUAL CONTENT RATING: 5 5 5 5 5
EBOOK READER RATING:
CATEGORIES: BDSM, Contemporary, Erotica
KEYWORDS:
 

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EXCERPT
COPYRIGHT Destiny Blaine/2008
His mouth covered my ear. “Why are you here?” His hot breath sent shivers down my spine. My nipples perked to attention.

“Aren’t you glad to see me?” I didn’t think quickly enough on my feet for a sexy little come back.

I wanted him to tell me he was thrilled to see me but my enthusiasm only sparked his adamant curiosity. The answer I desired lingered too far away with the validity, if not confirmation, of fantasy.

His teeth nibbled at my ear. “I asked you a question.” He spoke like time didn’t matter but the urgency for a reply stayed with the question in a persistent tone.

After his teeth scraped over my earlobe, confessionals were possible, never mind probable and truthful. “I came here for you.”

“Are you glad to find me?” His hand rested on my knee. His fingers coolly traveled up my thigh. Under my skirt, he stopped right outside of the lace. Modesty wasn’t my strong suit. It was a thong. I knew what I planned to do. Dressing for any occasion never presented a problem.

His middle finger added a little pressure to the cloth and then moved away.

“Should I give my permission?” What a dumb question. Where the hell did that one come from? Of course he didn’t need it. He just didn’t plan to rush things. I seemed all too anxious to just step out of my panties and bend over.

“Do I look like a man who needs it?” He smiled with twisted dimples daring a rebuttal.

I felt so foolish. I reminded myself of unpretentious demographics. Three children. Prominent attorney husband. Harvard graduate. Hitting close to forty. I swallowed back the twinge of pain the big number brought with it especially since the man working me into a foreseeable earth-shattering orgasm added another soft touch with just the right amount of pressure. He wasn’t a day over twenty-four but his hands skillfully demonstrated unmatched experience. Suddenly, I didn’t care about age. What I needed seemed more along the lines of uninterrupted time…

 
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