You know how much I love having guest authors! Highlighting their sizzling work makes me smile. I have Asha Daniels today, a true southern girl with a love of fried chicken, iced tea and long walks on the beach. She has a third book coming with Blushing Books on May 17th and this one looks absolutely delicious. Let’s take a peek at…
SURRENDERING TO THE MOUNTAIN MAN
She’s a victim of her family’s treacherous life.
When a wealthy college student is given a gift by her father, one requiring a hefty price, she seeks solace in the mountains. Until a horrific snowstorm interferes, thrusting her into the arms of a dangerous man who will require her surrender.
He ran away from his life and those who considered him a monster, determined to live alone. Determined to erase the pain. Then he’s forced to save her life. Is there such a thing as second chances?
I am the darkness, the kind of man the majority fear.
I am a monster, my life surrounded by carriers of my disease.
I am the devil who will break you.
I am also the one you crave.
I’ve always been alone. Yeah, there were people once, and a hell of a lot of them. They wanted something from me. That was the key. They always wanted. I was the man in charge, the one who could make or break them. Their careers. Their lives. In turn, I had everything I ever desired. Women. Money. Clout. Shit, I was filthy rich. Sure, I loved lording my wealth over almost everyone I knew.
Then I lost everything that mattered to me.
One. Single. Night.
One ridiculous and uncalculated decision and my life turned to shit. I was careless with my trust and all because of a woman. The ugly fact will haunt me forever, but I burned too many bridges to be able to salvage any aspect of my former self. Too bad for them, for the fuckers who put me here. Revenge will be sweet. For now? I’m gathering my strength, biding my time so they say.
Many would say I ran away. Perhaps I did. I no longer cared what anyone else thought and I still don’t. No sense in worrying about things I couldn’t change. Snickering, I walked around the corner, heading for a round of entertainment for the evening. Taking another long drag, I held the smoke as I studied the brick façade of the various buildings lining the snow slickened street. The area was quaint, far too much so for my taste, but functional, even allowing for various levels of kink. I blew out, creating smoke ringlets before taking another puff.
I have to admit, the cigarette tasted damn good. I’d given up the habit over a year before, the very day my life plummeted into Hell. But today? I craved the taste, nasty and bitter. Inhaling, I watched the various women as they entered the club. They are all the same. In my mind, they are two-bit whores who feed off men like piranhas, eating the flesh, feasting on their blood, if only in the methods of money and sex. Disgusting.
But I was hungry and there were few places where questions were never asked, heads always turning the other way. I learned where to go the first week I stepped foot in the wretched area. I had to be protected if only from myself and the anger, the rage living inside, burrowing its way into my soul.
But my rage remained.
The frigid breeze blew against my skin and usually the cold was invigorating. Tonight, I felt nothing. My goal was simple. To find a woman and to fuck her. There was no need for romance. These kinds of women preferred dominating men, forceful to the point some would say the experience was rape. For the girls entering the darkened club, they were ready, eager to be taken.
Exactly what I needed.
After tossing the cigarette, I crossed the street, taking long strides. Even the majority of the businesses were closed. It was late, and the vacationers were all nestled snug in their beds, unaware such carnal activities were going on just a few miles away from their precious resort. The locals simply turned the other way, refusing to acknowledge the kind of sick kink occurring behind the massive steel door. I liked the name. It suited the establishment perfectly. The Torture Chamber. I couldn’t help but laugh.
The entrance was unmarked, except for a single plaque nailed onto the graphite steel door. For some reason, my mind reverted to a cross, a naked and bloodied man. Maybe my guilt was creeping in again. I didn’t hesitate after swinging it open, simply walking past the bouncers. They recognized who I was, if by no other means than reputation. I didn’t know their names and they knew better than to ask mine, but they’d heard of me. The music was loud, blaring and as my eyes swept the neon infused establishment, I could sense the stares, and not only from the women. Men knew to be afraid and so they keep their distance. But the women… Oh, yes, the women certainly didn’t seem to mind being used by a hulking man who said very little.
The bar was jam packed, the liquor flowing, but I wasn’t here for the booze. I have plenty back at the cabin. I also don’t need to push my way through the heated bodies. They simply moved out of my way. Within seconds, I’d found the one I could tolerate for the night and closed the distance. She had violet eyes, the kind no doubt most men would sink into. They were far too vibrant, even in the intense lighting. She wore her clothes like a costume, hiding the woman behind the cloak, or some would say a mask. Not that I cared. Everything was fake these days.
“My, aren’t you something to look at?” she purred and fanned her face. “What do you think, ladies?”
“I don’t think you can handle him, Raven,” the blonde cooed, her look almost condescending.
Raven shook her head, winking at the others. “I’m not certain he can handle me.”
I glanced at the other two women, both attempting to look much younger than they actually were. In their skin-tight dresses and four-inch heels, garish make-up and exuding salacious expressions like bitches in heat, they were ready for anything; however, they weren’t my type. My cock wasn’t throbbing, nor would it be until I was ready for some relief. I’d learned control several years before. “Do you crave pain?”
The question seemed to take her aback. Maybe the other men in the room had no balls.
“Pain?” Raven’s slight smile brightened. “I’m not entirely certain what you mean by pain.”
I could see her hardened nipples through the thin material. The girl called Raven wasn’t fooling anyone with her pretense. She was a true pain whore.
“Look at his eyes. Wow. You are one dark and dangerous man,” the blonde murmured, fanning her face.
“You have no idea.” The answer was succinct as well as the truth, and I could see the words only fueled Raven. “I need your answer.”
Raven’s lower lip quivered as she studied me. I’d never noticed the way women could have the innate ability to size up a man until now, but she managed to catch a glimpse of an attribute she craved.
“You go, girl,” the blonde whispered, swiveling her hips.
“I’ll do anything you ask,” Raven said under her breath, almost daring to come closer.
“Then come with me.” There were stalls inside the building, makeshift rooms allowing for carnal activities. While they might have been pristine once, the areas were now little more than tawdry reminders that kink would never be respected. However, they were useful for what I considered the business at hand. This was nothing more than a transaction, a power exchange entered into by two consenting adults. There were rules, as with every profession, but very few were followed in any manner and no one checked shit.
I didn’t take her hand, nor did I offer any method of conversation. She would soon learn that I cared only about two things. Sex and whipping. There are darker aspects of BDSM that I’d enjoyed before, even sharing certain experiences with friends, men who had no idea what they were getting involved in. Playboys simply taking what was entitled to them. What a crock of bullshit. That had been a hell of a long time ago. I was no longer into babysitting of any kind.
This was the single reason I came to this wretched place.
The pre-ordered stall was at the end of the hall. A quick flick of a switch highlighted the once vivid space. The walls were covered in thick fabric, suppressing noise both inside as well as privacy for those in other rooms. This particular stall held a single apparatus, a wooden piece especially designed for whipping and fucking. I shot a single look at the girl before dropping my keys. Her expression allowed a smile to curl on my lip.
She wasn’t certain of her place or her requirements. Her demeanor had changed, no longer the fiery creature. Even her lower lip quivered, giving her apprehension away.
What did I care? She’d agreed to a session. She’d agreed to my demands. She’d agreed to accept whatever level of anguish I doled out. “Undress.”
Ooohhh – very tasty. Don’t you think? Thank you for being my guest today and here is the link for her latest book – Surrendering to the Bodyguard. Imagine the concept.