a taste of… His Judgment

I think we all have a fascination of the law. I’m saddened by the ugly stories of cops being shot. Policemen and women should be our heroes – at least the majority of them. Just like with any breed, color, size, shape or gender – there are good people and bad people. Sadly, we concentrate on the bad, yet we celebrate the notoriety politicians and celebrities seem to mandate JUST because they think they’re all that and a bag of chips. We all have something to hide. Every. Single. One. Of. Us.His Judgement 500x755

Don’t lie. you know you do.

Sometimes good people are caught up in the political arena. They fight for what’s right as well as try to live their life as they wish. Often, they’re unable because we love to pry. We crave seeing the worst in people. Sometimes there are legitimate reasons for poking at the candidate, actor, judge, etc. Sometimes those reasons are contrived. His Judgment is just this kind of story. Two people do indeed have something to hide, but not what many believe to be so horrible. Sometimes they are simply trying to find another to care about them. Hmmm…  Coming on August 1st from Blushing Books.

HIS JUDGMENT

Buried inside all of us are dark desires, some we refuse to acknowledge. But we crave…

I hunger for a powerful man, one strong enough to tame the woman inside. For highly respected attorney, Joelle Parker, the words had unleashed a hunger she could no longer control. Her days are filled with prosecuting monsters, vile men and women content on vanquishing the sanctity of innocent lives. Her nights are something else entirely. Fantasies of finding a dominating man, one who could yank away the tight confines of her conservative life, finally filter into her waking hours. Tasked with prosecuting a brutal and very political murder case, her needs are placed on hold—until a chance meeting changes everything.

Randolph ‘Craze’ Mitchell is a loner, preferring long rides on his Harley to human companionship. A man of the law, he has a difficult decision to make; whether or not to run for a seat in the State Senate. Every aspect of his life is well planned, organized and exactly what he doesn’t want. His dark desires, sexual needs encompassing kink and domination, are kept locked away. No woman can withstand his requirements. No one knows the real man or the secrets he holds. Painting is his only solace, he’s come to terms with remaining very much alone—until a vivacious woman crosses his path, daring to push aside his tightly woven shield of armor.

The two enter into a passionate and intense journey, the question of consent never far from the surface. Both crave what the other offers, as well as concern about discovery, but they can’t stay away. Every act shared pushes their respective boundaries, fulfilling their carnal needs, until reality thrusts them into the light of day—a blackmailer has surfaced. Craze is faced with a horrific choice, one that could end both of their careers. Can he use his best judgment or will he succumb to his personal demons?

Can Joelle and Craze trust each other enough to explore their needs together? Their chemistry is off the chain, is it real or just a chance encounter? Can they join together to protect each other from public scrutiny?

EXCERPT

“Murderer!”

“Kill the bastard!”

“He should fry in hell for what he did!”

“He’s an innocent man!”

The screams and chanting from both sides came fast and furious. Joelle Parker took the courthouse steps two at a time, avoiding the bank of reporters, family, friends and co-workers of both the accused murderer and his victims. The mob was growing in number, the case an ugly reminder of the increasing horrific crimes in Baltimore. They were all judging her on her performance or lack thereof. Even her boss had threatened to take over, stating she wasn’t qualified to handle such a high priority black and white Domcase. To hell with all of them. She was damn good.

When she was safely inside, she breathed out and wiped a single bead of sweat from her forehead. She refused to be on the news, fader for some buxom blonde who would use the fifteen minutes of fame to parlay a career on National television. Not her style.

She hurried through the checkpoints and entered the courtroom, her head held high. She was early and few people were inside. Sliding into the seat, she almost laughed as her skirt rode up her thighs from friction, exposing the tops of her thigh-highs.

She fingered the thin lace and bit her lower lip. What if everyone in the courtroom knew she was wearing a silk thong and stockings? Closing her eyes, she allowed her mind to wander to the events of the night before. The BDSM club was new in town, considered hot and very exclusive. The invitation had been a scintillating surprise, a gift from one of her previous clients. She’d tossed the gilded envelope in a drawer, rejecting the offer for almost two weeks.

Joelle was the good girl, the one who had made straight ‘A’s’ in high school and all through college and law school. She was the best friend, tutor, mentor and big sister. She was the one who followed every rule. Everyone thought of her as the girl next door, who never, ever had kinky thoughts. She’d stymied the vixen most of her life. Only two years before had she succumbed to her burning desires, frequenting several clubs in the seediest part of downtown Baltimore.

Experimentation had turned into dark cravings until the nights became days and she’d made a choice – her career or BDSM. The need for money, clothes, an expensive car and a condominium won out in the end. A girl had to eat. What a shame.

No one had any idea about the woman inside. The search for the perfect man had gone nowhere. What man could handle such complexity? She licked her ruby stained lips as she thought about the last date she’d been on. How long had it been? Oh yes, almost three years. No man held the muster, a perfect specimen of masculinity and dominance.

When the invitation had arrived, she knew she’d received a sign. However, accepting the sign had taken courage. The memory held mixed feelings. She’d gulped down a full glass of wine, held her breath and ripped open the envelope with flair. What she couldn’t understand is how had her client, a woman who fashioned herself a Domme, see through her thick layers of bullshit to the girl locked inside a cage? On that very night and after two additional glasses of wine, she’d accepted the invite, happy as could be. After second guessing herself, she’d cowered in front of the television watching a documentary on The History Channel. Yeah, she had balls of mush.

The night at the club had been cathartic. Freeing. She couldn’t wait to return, even considering paying the one thousand dollar joining free. She could afford a little luxury. She could even learn to be more careful in her methods of playtime, remaining in the shadows.

Why the hell did she care? What occurred in her private life was nobody else’s business. She was an adult, a very hungry adult and allowed to play. Then again, no one, not even her best friend knew about her penchant for pain, her desire to submit to a dominant man.

Meticulously she laid out her things, preferring an iPad to traditional pen and paper. This case wasn’t going to be easy, but she was prepared, well almost. The night before had been delicious, the event going well into the night. She snickered as she envisioned the neon lights, the pulsing music and the elongated bar. The dark and foreboding club was designed for anonymity as well as security. Anyone could be exactly who they desired to be.

She checked her watch – ten minutes to spare. After court she was going to dinner with friends, then back to the club. Whether or not she’d decide to join depended on the events of the night. A bit of show and tell was in order, complete with aspects of flogging. She tingled at the thought. Perhaps she’d run into Marco again. The stud muffin had shown her the ropes, literally. She giggled and eased her hand into her shirt, fingering the top of her push-up bra, remembering the delicious details.

“Welcome to Club Noir,” the man whispered, his face hidden behind a mask. “I’m Marco, very much at your service.”

Joelle eyed the tall drink of water and nodded. “Thank you. I’m Jewel.” She certainly wasn’t going to give him her real name.

“Jewel. A beautiful gem to be kept precious. I’m honored. I know that you’re new to our club. If you’d like, I’d be happy to show you around.”

As he held out his arm, she inhaled. His exotic scent was unrecognizable, the fragrance intoxicating just like the man. Tall and broad shouldered, his muscles were carved, his body long and lean. “I’d enjoy that.” Accepting his gesture, she clung to him as he walked her through the crowded space.

“Club Noir specializes in all aspects of BDSM. We cater to our customers, indulging them in their greatest fantasy. Tell me, sweet Jewel, do you have a particular desire, a bold hunger for aspects of kink?”

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