Cover & Excerpt
by Cara Bristol
Rod and Cane Society Book Five
Widow Liz Davenport assumes when she begins to date, her new man will be like her late husband —a member of the Rod and Cane Society and an experienced disciplinarian who can provide her with loving guidance she requires to feel grounded and secure. So why is she attracted to Grant Davis, an ex-Naval JAG officer who works for her nemesis and has never spanked a woman in his life?
Events in his recent past have forced Grant to take stock of his life and try some new things. But spank a woman? He’s never considered that before, but with Liz’s coaching he’s willing to try.
But when the past collides with the present, will he be able to step up and become the disciplinarian Liz needs?
Genre: Contemporary RomancePurchase link(s): Amazon
Content/Theme(s): Spanking, Military, Navy, JAG, Discipline
Release Date: January 13, 2015
Excerpt & More
She was freezing. The art museum had the A/C cranked to arctic. She crossed her arms to camouflage that the cold had hardened her nipples and studied the loose brush strokes of a painting. Grant had excused himself to find a restroom. The fuzziness of the Impressionist landscape was the way the world had been before she’d had Lasik surgery. She wondered if Impressionism had resulted from the art masters having been nearsighted.
She shivered and rubbed her goose-pimpled arms. Grant had been right. She should have brought a sweater.
A blanket of warmth dropped over her shoulders.
Liz spun around to find him watching her with a hint of a smug smile. She slipped her arms into the sleeves. The fabric enveloped her with the heat and scent of his body. “I love a man who can let the obvious go unsaid,” she commented.
They were alone in the gallery, and he grabbed the lapels of the jacket and pulled her close. “You’re such a woman.” It sounded suspiciously like I told you so, but then he kissed her.
He pressed his lips against her mouth and explored her with a sweep of his tongue. Liz moved against him, enjoying the hardness of his muscles, the growing rigidity of his erection, the awakening of her desire.
He broke off and brushed her ear with his lips. “The museum has a special traveling exhibit of erotic art on the next floor.”
“Erotic?” Liz smiled. “Ah. I get it now. You didn’t have any etchings of your own to show me, so you brought me to the museum.”
Grant chuckled. His breath sent tingles up her spine. Her nipples were still hard, but now for a different reason. “I swear I had no idea. I spotted a poster when searching for the restroom.”
“Uh huh. I believe that.” She teased. “Let’s go see.”
Grinning, he took her hand, and they left the Impressionist’s gallery.
Upstairs, they found the erotic-art room without any trouble. Besides the large banner strung over double doors, a peek inside the gallery left no doubt they were in the right place. Liz blinked at the salacious sculptures and paintings as they entered the room. Much of the art dated back several hundred years. Quite a bit of it appeared religious in nature.
Grant swiveled his head. “That’s a lot of naked people.”
“Bondage is apparently not a modern phenomenon.” Her gaze landed on a Japanese painting. She didn’t know where to look—at the art or at Grant. They hadn’t even done it, but they were viewing people doing it. She felt naughty, like a teenager making out in the front seat of her boyfriend’s car. But, this time, she didn’t have parents waiting up to give her the third degree. With Chloe at college, no one would know if she didn’t come home.
“If it involves sex, it’s been going on for a long time,” Grant said.
“True,” she agreed.
She feigned nonchalance as she wandered around the gallery with him at her side. The stirrings of desire pulsed. “You didn’t plan this?” she asked him.
Some of the art was erotic as hell, and she was with a man she’d hadn’t slept with—yet—staring at people locked in sexual contortions.
She stopped in front of a bronzed sculpture of a woman’s backside. The mansion where the Rod and Cane Society was headquartered housed a lot of artwork depicting spanking and the female backside, but they were paintings and photographs, not 3-D sculptures.
“Your ass is cuter,” Grant whispered in her ear.
“You’ve noticed my ass, have you?” Could he be an ass man? Her pulse raced.
A more popular exhibit than the Impressionist one, this gallery was crowded with people. Grant slipped his arms around her waist, and Liz widened her eyes when his erection grazed her buttocks. Her stomach clenched, and her pussy let down a surge of moisture.
“Among other things,” he said.
She couldn’t resist a small wiggle. “I sense you’re an art lover.”
He pressed his hard-on more firmly against her. “This is all you, sweetheart.”
Liz emitted a low moan.
“Maybe we’d better leave before we turn this into a performance-art show,” Grant whispered.
“Sounds like a plan,” she answered shakily.
“My place?” he asked softy.
“Sure.” Liz nodded and swallowed. Her body hummed with excited jitters.
“Let’s go.” Grant swatted her ass. A wave of longing rolled through her like thunder traveling across an open plain. She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment and swayed. More. Please more.
But there wouldn’t be more, because Grant wasn’t that way.
Why couldn’t he be a gentleman and a spanker? Was she foolish to start a relationship with a man who could give only half of what she needed? She’d never settled before. But at the idea of walking away from Grant, a little pang shot through her.
But maybe that ache afforded reason enough to call it quits—get out now before she became more attracted, more attached. She needed a man with the confidence to take her in hand and provide what she needed without her having to ask. A head of household who provided stability, structure, and discipline. A mother-may-I guy would not fit the bill.
Grant was a nice man. A good man. They had no commitments, but eventually she would meet someone who could provide everything she needed, and she would move on. It wasn’t right to use him to stave off the loneliness or to scratch an itch. He deserved better.
“Hey…are you okay?” Grant settled a gentle hand on her shoulder, and she realized a long moment had passed since she’d agreed to leave.
Dating did not get easier when you got older. If anything, it got more complicated. She took a deep breath and turned. She didn’t want to disappoint him, to hurt him. She liked him. Enjoyed his company, his conversation, his laugh.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I can’t do this.”
“If you’re not ready, we don’t have to. I understand,” he said.
He didn’t understand. She would not be ready, ever. Not with him. But the words to mark paid to their fledgling relationship refused to leave her lips. Why did he have to be so nice? Attractive. Sexy. Damn him!
“Why don’t we go have some tea and dessert?” he suggested.
“All right,” she agreed, because she couldn’t bring herself to ask him to take her home.
She slipped out of his sports coat and felt an instant loss of warmth. “Thank you.” She returned it, giving back more than his jacket.
“Are you sure? It’s still chilly in here.”
The only thing she was sure about was how confused she was. “I’m good. Thank you.”
Grant shrugged into his jacket, and they exited the gallery. Misery thickened Liz’s throat, but she held her head high as they strolled down the corridor. They avoided the crowded elevator for the empty stairwell. Liz started to descend the steps, but Grant stopped her on the landing. He lightly gripped her upper arms.
“Listen,” he said. “I’m attracted to you, and I want to sleep with you. But it has to be right. You were married a long time, and this is a big step. We’ll take it at your pace. I’m sorry if I came on too strong.”
He brushed his thumb over her face, and Liz realized she was crying. Her face heated with mortification.
“Hey….” He wrapped his arms around her in a hug, and she hid her face against his neck. He chuckled, a sound of such tenderness, Liz cried harder. “Sweetheart?” Grant rocked her. “Tell me why you’re so upset.”
Because she wanted to sleep with him, but she needed him to spank her. Because her emotions were stronger than she’d thought. She craved discipline, but she desired it from him. Grant had wrapped himself around her heart the way his arms fit so snuggly around her shoulders. “B-because…I don’t know. Because I’m crazy.”
“I like crazy women.”
“Nobody likes crazy women.”
“I like you.”
“Then you’re crazy.”
“See? We’re perfect for each other.”
She smiled through her tears. A measure of heartache receded, but confusion still reigned. “I’m a basket case.”
“I like baskets.”
Laughter snorted out her nose. She thumped his chest with her fist. “You’re too nice to me.” You don’t make it easy.
Purchase link(s): Amazon
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