18 And Over Book Blogger Giveaway Hop

I'm participating in the 18 & Older Book Blogger Giveaway Hop!

For my part in the giveaway, I thought I'd give you a spicy, Rated Triple R excerpt from my book, "Finding Sanctuary"

After you read the excerpt, post a comment with your e-mail and you'll be entered to win a free pdf copy of "Finding Sanctuary". Good luck!!

****PLEASE BE AWARE:  I write GLBTQ romance. GLBTQ stands for gay, lesbian, bisexual, transgender, and queer. This means my works feature same sex relationships AND same sex sexual acts. If winning that kind of a book isn't your cup of tea, kindly pass on to the next blog in the hop and leave the spot open for someone else. Thank you.****

Blurb:

Finding Sanctuary is the story of Vincent, a typical, average guy who has begun to unravel. He has a respectable, mainstream life, with a solid job, nice girlfriend, comfortable house—all the material trappings. What, then, is causing this restlessness, these blackouts? The first revelation is that his best friend Eric is also his heart’s desire. But then Eric invites him to a weekend at a BDSM playhouse … There Vincent will confront his fears and test the limits of his sexual boundaries. Eric has his needs, too—needs that conflict with Vincent’s. Will their fragile new bond survive the weekend? Will Vincent find the sanctuary he so fervently desires?

Excerpt:

“I would like very much to show you the pleasures of this room, if you’d let me.”

Vincent nodded, pressing back against Eric, seeking reassurance. Eric’s hands gripped his hips tighter.

“You can say no, if you want to,” Eric told him. “Anton won’t be offended.”

“Not at all,” Anton assured. “This place is about pleasure, and nothing else.”

“I ... I do want it.” Vincent took a deep breath, hoping to expel his unease with it.

“I have a session starting now. Would you like to watch one before you participate in one? To get a feel for what goes on?”

“I can do that?” No time like the present, and nothing like jumping in feet first. Baptism by fire, Vincent thought, and thank God for it. He had wondered if things would begin right away, or if there would be some sort of ... he didn’t know ... class, maybe. Concern had filled him as Frank had presented paperwork; Vincent didn’t want any delays. No chance to turn back, no chance to back out. Please, God, he begged silently, no chance. Because if he could, he would, for the simple fact that he should.

“Of course.”

“I’d like that.” Eric’s arms came around him and Vincent moaned. He wasn’t normally into such public displays of affection. He didn’t even like to hold hands with Jenny when they went shopping. Something had come over him since he had set foot in this place, though. Something that made him want to stake his claim, or rather let Eric stake his claim. He thought briefly of the pictures he’d seen in the BDSM book. Collared men on their knees, connected to their masters by chains. Maybe Eric would collar him one day. Seemed too much to hope for, a thing he’d never be good enough to deserve.

Anton left the room and Eric turned Vincent around to face him, eyes searching his face. “Are you all right?”

Vincent nodded. “You should choose your safe word now.”

“Penguin.” Strangest thing he could think of. Eric chuckled.

“Penguin it is then.”

Vincent shook his head, trying to clear the fog. He felt as if the room itself had a personality, as if the walls and ceiling and floor were indeed watching him, smiling seductively. As if the room knew all his secrets, and couldn’t wait to drag them out into the light of day and show him just what lurked inside his soul. “This place ...”

“Gets under your skin, doesn’t it?”

“Yes, exactly. Like there’s an electricity here. I can feel it crawling over me.” Vincent shivered, gooseflesh rising on his arms.

“It’s exhilarating for me. That’s why I come here.” Eric led Vincent over to a recliner near the back of the room. “You can watch from here.” He gestured to the chair.

“Are you going to stay?”

“If you want me to.” 

“I ...” All about pleasure, but what if Eric wanted to find his pleasure elsewhere? “If you want to.” 

Eric grinned. “I like to watch just as much as I like to play, and if it would make you feel better, then I’d like that even more. I did say I’d stay by you, after all.”

“I would feel better.” The worry of being left alone in one of these rooms had gnawed at him since they’d pulled up. Or not the worry of being alone, maybe, as much as the worry of how far he’d let himself go. Nothing without his consent, but Vincent knew he’d consent to just about anything now that he’d felt the alluring power of the torture room.

“Then I’ll stay. Have a seat.”

Vincent hadn’t realized until that moment that he had ignored the chair. He sat down, running his hands over the plush velvet.

“Comfortable?”

“Yes.” Eric stood behind him, hands light on his shoulders. The door on the far side of the room opened and Anton walked in, accompanied by a shorter, dark-skinned, naked man.

“That’s Dominic,” Eric explained. “He’s one of Anton’s favorites.”

“He won’t mind that I’m here?”

Eric shook his head. “Dominic likes to be watched. Gets off on it.”

Anton helped Dominic onto the table, where he lay on his back, and took great care restraining him, making sure the padding of the wrist shackles fit correctly, asking if the bonds were too tight, if Dominic was comfortable and ready. Dominic nodded and Anton stepped back. He turned the crank until the table tilted upright. Dominic might as well have been standing.

“Do you see the curtains hanging around the room?” Eric asked Vincent.

He hadn’t seen them; the fabric color melded perfectly with that of the walls. “I do now, yes.”

“They conceal mirrors. Subs can watch themselves be tortured or not, as they prefer.”

Anton moved to the wall and pulled a cord. The curtains parted, revealing floor to ceiling mirrors, and Vincent heard Dominic’s deep moan.

Anton chose his tools, seeming to ponder over each before finally selecting one. The tails of the flogger he picked up ended in metal tabs, which sported tiny spikes. Vincent at once cringed and hungered, fearing such a thing but yearning for it all the same.

He watched as Anton began Dominic’s torture, though judging by the way Dominic’s cock jutted out from his body, torture hardly seemed the right word. Dominic cried out each time the flogger touched his chest, his voice thick and lusty, arousal fairly radiating from his body.

Vincent felt the heat of those feelings reach out to him, felt himself being pulled into the moment. He squirmed in his seat, his cock throbbing in time with the strokes of the flogger as he imagined that sensuous weapon coming down on his own body. He wanted to be where Dominic was—chained to the table, laid bare, vulnerable and defenseless. Wanted Anton to force him to give up everything. He would beg for that before they would finish, Vincent realized.

What would it be like to have Dominic watch as Anton worked his magic on him? Or to have Eric watch? Vincent pictured the scene: Eric sitting in the chair and himself on the table. He nearly came with the thought of it.

“Do you like what you see?” Eric asked, lips close to Vincent’s ear.

“I do.”

“Tell me what you’re thinking.”

“Not enough.”

“You want to see more?”

“Feel it. I want ... I want to feel it.” Vincent rocked his hips forward, desperate to ease the ache in his slacks. Eric’s hands slid down the front of him, rubbed up and down his chest in lazy strokes, and Vincent suddenly wished he had taken off his shirt. Eric’s touch turned his blood to lava and set him on fire.

“What do you feel, Vincent?”

“Hot ... feels like I’m on fire. Your touch feels good.” He leaned his head back, trying to get more of that touch and still watch Anton and Dominic. Something caught his eye then—a flash of bright color, no larger than a pencil eraser, but so vibrant and bright. A gleaming drop of red. Blood. Vincent gasped as his cock tightened and twitched at the sight. He didn’t understand why Dominic’s blood turned him on, but it did. “He’s bleeding,” he murmured.

“Does the blood bother you?”

“No ...” And he was certain that was wrong. Very, very wrong. But he wanted to bleed, too; a surge of jealousy slipped up his spine and he shuddered with it.

“Would you like Anton to make you bleed?”

Vincent moaned, unable to form a reply. He shifted his weight again, still uncomfortable. Dominic’s moans and cries echoed off the walls; Vincent imagined he could feel them vibrating in his bones and along the shaft of his cock. Anton murmured to Dominic now and again, and although Vincent couldn’t hear the words, he knew the meaning behind them as Dominic nodded and sobbed. Begged.

“Is your cock hard?” Eric whispered.

Vincent nodded almost absently, eyes glued to the scene before him. Anton had moved back to the table, and now held a ball gag in his hand. He waved it back and forth in front of Dominic; Dominic’s eyes followed the gag wherever it went as he nodded and pleaded for it. Anton inclined his head slightly and walked back to Dominic, deftly securing the gag around his head. Vincent gasped as Dominic’s body went limp for a fraction of a second, head hanging so that his chin touched his chest.

Dominic raised his head, locked his gaze with Vincent’s, and smiled. The air left Vincent’s lungs, his pulse pounded wildly in his throat, his chest heaved and mouth began to water. That look. God, that look. Such rampant lust and desire, such gratitude—almost as if Dominic were thanking him for being a part of this. And. Such. Happiness.

“Take your cock out,” Eric purred. “Touch it. Stroke yourself while you watch them.”