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A Slave of My Own Desire
by Eve Summers
Category: Erotica/Multicultural-Interracial Erotica/Fantasy
Description: Warning this title includes some bondage. Can hot steamy chocolate and warm vanilla mix or are they separate? Never the two to twine? Is it time for a nice treat or is it only a trick, a slight of the hand? Clare's ex-fiancee treated her like a queen: he was kind, attentive to her needs in bed and b-o-r-i-n-g. He never made her do what she wanted him to make her do. From the moment Clare sets eyes on David at a Halloween party, her hormones go wild with desire. His arrogant smile promises something darker, deeper and more intense. He is Trouble--with a big, big T. And yet, the mistake of letting him would be even bigger. David believes love is not worth the pain it brings, no matter how divine Clare looks in her goddess costume. To him, she is just a rich white girl bored of vanilla sex, and he is happy to show her a good time. So why does he melt inside every time their eyes meet?
eBook Publisher: Red Rose Publishing/MC/IR, 2008 2008-10-23
eBookwise Release Date: December 2008
 
7 Reader Ratings:
Available eBook Formats: OEBFF Format (IMP) [63 KB]
Words: 10603
Reading time: 30-42 min.
"This short novella is a testament to a good erotic read with a moral of how we must overcome our own obstacles. Nice job!" ~ Danielle from Coffee Time Romance
I'm about ten minutes into the movie, my mind is on fire and my fingers have worked their way between my thighs. The memory of his buns in those tight jeans and the heat of his touch is making things very good indeed. When the doorbell rings, I ignore it at first. But it persists, so after a while of infuriating "brrrring", I pause the DVD and grab a bag of sweets. On this one night a year, I make sure the pantry is well stocked with sweet nothings. "Trick or treat?" I hear as I open the door. For a moment I think I must be dreaming. He's standing there, in the flesh, wearing a black cape and those tiny red horns. Instead of a pitchfork, he's holding a bottle of champagne. Beads of moisture are condensing on its smooth, opaque surface. "Trick," the word rolls off my tongue before I can stop it. There. I've done it. Spoken out my innermost desire. My mouth is dry. His eyebrow lifts. "You sure?" He is so hot. My head is spinning. The air smells of apples. Apple, the forbidden fruit. The red horns on his head. The promise of taboos. I nod.
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