There's always something good to read on Cover Reveals: Honour Bound by Nia Farrell

Honour Bound
by Nia Farrell
Replay Book Three
Replay owner Piers St. Leger isn’t looking for a sub. When psychologist Eleanor Benoit comes into his office, beautiful, curious, eager and willing to learn, suddenly all he can think of is what he can show her. What he can teach her. What they can do together. What they can be…

Intrigued by the psychology of BDSM, Elly has agreed to attend a scene at Replay as an observer, portraying the White Queen in Wonderland, with Sir Piers as the White King. He’s incredibly handsome, dangerously charismatic, and a master of kinbaku, erotic Japanese rope bondage. Can this vetted psychologist remain an observer, or will she yield to temptation and play?

Genre: Erotic Contemporary Romance
Content/Theme(s): Bondage, BDSM, D/s, Historic Cosplay, Roleplay, PTSD
Release Date: November 1, 2016
Publisher: Long Branch Books

Excerpt & More

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Excerpt:
“Shall we?” Piers held out his hand. Eleanor took it, stepping into the frame he created, the perfect picture of elegance and grace as he led her around the dance floor in a series of dance steps that became increasingly more difficult.

She followed him flawlessly.

Lowering her into a throwaway oversway earned him a brilliant smile. “Lessons?” she asked, beaming with delight.

“From age five on. Mother insisted. Father agreed. He said that dancing was the surest way to impress a woman. Of late, I find eight meter lengths of rope and artful knots to be more of a draw.”

“I’m certain you do,” she said, following his lead. She was perfection, from the feel of her in his arms to the way she moved for him, allowing him to guide her into ever more challenging waltz dance moves.

There were far more male than female characters in Carroll’s book as well as here, and Eleanor’s grace and skills had drawn everyone’s attention. As soon as their dance ended, men were lining up to partner her. Vos, of course, was a friend of sorts. They both did volunteer work at the local veterans’ center. But when the gauntlet over his prosthetic hand hindered his ability to lead her in the more complex steps, the White Knight Xander MacDonald cut in.

There was no mistaking the look of masculine appreciation in Xander’s eyes, both for Vos and for Eleanor. Given his proclivities, he might be hoping to scene with them both. It would have been simpler if the brothers shared, but Micheil had eyes only for Rowena and she for him, so there would be no help in that quarter.

Piers partnered Eleanor again, taking no small pleasure in the fact that he was her best, most polished partner. She shone like a crown jewel, sparkling as he led her across the floor, her face flushed with exertion and aglow with delight. He wanted more than her joy; he wanted her cheeks pinked with pleasure.

Like a chess master, he maneuvered her across the boards in a sequence that left her wrapped in his arms. With his right arm behind her back and his left hand in front of her, with her arms crossed in front of her body and his arms encircling her, it was the closest they had been all evening.

He tightened his hold, drawing her deeper into his embrace. At this point it was no longer about the dance. It was about the two of them, how their bodies moved together, and what he wanted from her.

Her trust.

Her submission.

Her pliant body, bound in rope; her suspended form…his to pose, to tease, to use. He pulled her back against him, letting her feel just how much he desired her.

She stiffened slightly, thrown off balance by being kept in the wrap instead of transitioning to the next step.

“Relax,” he crooned into the delicate shell of her ear. “Trust that I can keep you safe. That I can control myself. Believe that I can deny myself the pleasures of your body until you choose to share them with me. Anything that happens between us will be because you have allowed it, princess, but I need to hear the words. Tell me what you want, and I shall give you what you need….”

***

What she wanted was him.

Fear closed Elly’s throat, bottling the words before she could spill them. More than her acquiescence, he would want her submission, and she still wasn’t certain she could give him that. But he’d promised to give her what she needed, and what she needed most was to conquer her fears.

She turned her head and tilted it to look into the blue steel of his eyes. “Show me the ropes, Sir. Somewhere private, please,” she added. “If I’m going to do this, I want to be the only woman you tie up in knots tonight, metaphorically or otherwise.”

His lips curved in a soft smile. “As you wish. Tell me, princess. Would you be more comfortable using a private play room at the resort, or do you feel safe enough to come home with me?”

When she caught her breath and trembled, he knew her answer before she spoke it. She saw resignation, perhaps disappointment, but also quiet acceptance in his eyes.

“The resort.”

It was obvious that he’d hoped for more, but he had to know what a huge step this was for her. She could have asked to observe the scenes that were going on now at Replay and which would continue until two in the morning. Instead, she’d chosen bondage with him.

Back at the resort, they returned to the wardrobe department and changed into their own clothes. In deference to the chillier weather they’d been having, Sir Piers had come in a sweater and slacks. Elly’s little black top provided the perfect complement for her fair skin and ginger hair. She’d paired it with black form-hugging pants and carried the bare minimum in a small black purse.

Sir Piers smiled when he saw no panty lines.

He placed a large hand at the small of her back and guided her down a series of halls and up two flights of stairs. Just the touch of his strong, capable hand, and the firm yet gentle pressure of his fingers, was enough to set her senses on fire.

The third floor hall was lined with doors that anything could be happening behind. The air was thick with the smell of sex.

Sir Piers stopped in front of Room 9, inserted an electronic key, and opened wide the door. “Entrez.” The sexy rumble of his voice registered on the Richter scale and sent shockwaves through her system. Fighting to extricate herself from a tangled web of trepidation and anticipation, she broke its hold and stepped inside.

She’d seen the Red Room of Pain and recognized things she’d found online while researching BDSM and the lifestyle. There was a four poster bed, a sofa, a chair, and a spanking bench. A sex swing was hung near a St. Andrew’s cross. A padded table, large enough to lay someone on, had strategic holes cut out and was studded with O-rings on its legs and sides. The walls were lined with racks of toys for impact play, and she was certain that the chests of drawers were full of erotic surprises.

“Come. Sit.” With his hand on the small of her back, he guided her to the sofa, where they sat near each other, but not touching. “Before we begin, we need to discuss the scene and what you are comfortable with doing.”

It was too soon for sex, and she told him so.

“I understand,” he demurred. “But if you become aroused to the point of asking for relief, perhaps even begging for it, I need your permission now, while you are thinking clearly, to do so. It would be your choice: external stimulation, internal manual stimulation, or cunninlingus—with or without a dental dam. I will go no further than what we have discussed and agreed upon, even if it means not touching you except incidentally, while wrapping lines and tying knots. Not nearly as much fun, mind you, but the decision is yours.”
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