Actually, I nearly didn’t bother to write this post because this ravishing cover just about sells itself! It’s so enticing I could stare at it all day long… But as I’ve volunteered to be a stop on Kristina Lloyd’s Undone blog tour, I don’t think she’d be too impressed if I left it at that!
Of course, now you’ve seen that cover, you’ll want to know what’s inside. A dark, dirty treat of a story that will leave you feeling hot and breathy over and over again. As always, Kristina’s writing is flawless – and if you’re new to her work, then you’re in for a delicious initiation. Kristina melds erotica and thriller to create a dark whirlpool, with currents that will suck you under and draw you in. Like the heroine, Lana, you’ll become unsure of how to escape – or if you even want to… Nothing is quite what it seems. Accident. Murder. Suicide? Kinky sex games with a stranger. With two. When Lana wakes up at the beginning of the story, she finds herself in a world that’s shifted. And she no longer knows who to trust…
The story so far: it’s the morning after the night before. It was quite a night, and it’s quite a morning! Lana Greenwood enjoyed her first threesome at a weekend party in the country. Now, on the next day, one of the men has been found dead in the swimming pool.
Here, Lana and the other guy, Sol Miller, have escaped to nearby woodland, eager to avoid the police and any scrutiny into their private lives. Lana doesn’t quite trust Sol but that’s not stopping her. In this excerpt, the two of them are alone in a clearing, and Lana has just stripped at Sol’s request.
‘C’mere, Cha Cha.’ He unbuckled his belt with slow, deliberate menace.
I strolled towards him, cautious, the carpet of old, broken leaves springy beneath my sandals.
He removed his belt, brown leather whistling through the loops and finishing with a faint crack. Oh, jeez, that sound, that lick at the air. Arousal raced in my veins, the beat of blood pumping me to hot, desperate sensitivity. My heart rate skyrocketed. As I moved, I felt encumbered between my thighs, my flesh transforming into a thick, sloshing weight that was almost too heavy to carry. How could I even function when I was like this?
Sol unbuttoned his jeans and edged them down his thighs, baring his pale hips. His erection sprang out at a gloriously fierce angle, poking up from his wiry pubes. He paused, motionless, thumbs in his pushed-down jeans as if intent on showing me his hardness in all its implicitly threatening, flattering glory. He wanted me, and he damn well wanted me to know it.
He heeled off his trainers and shoved his jeans to his ankles. He tossed his jeans alongside his T-shirt on the crippled tree and stepped forwards, cock bobbing, leather belt in hand. Muscles curved and flexed in his powerful, hairy thighs. I stepped out of my sandals, the leaf-carpeted ground yielding beneath my feet while offering random little stabs as I walked. We were Adam and Eve but mutually wary, significantly hornier, and eager to grab that sweet, tempting apple.
Face to face, we stood without touching. Sol’s eyes darkened with seriousness.
‘I reckon we both need to forget,’ he said. Tenderly, he hooked a strand of hair behind my ear.
I nodded, jolted by the pain of remembering why we wanted our escape. ‘Do anything you want to me,’ I said.
He pinched his eyes shut, raised his face to the canopy and then gave me a hard, direct look. ‘Don’t say things like that.’
He was dazzling to me, his jaw unshaven, his hair unkempt, his eyes deep in shadow. And at that moment, when he appeared to be wrestling with demons, he was more beautiful and dangerous than ever.
I shrugged without replying. I meant it. I didn’t care. He was the beast, the poacher, the wolf in disguise, and I was small and defenceless, craving his destruction.
Sol took the belt in both hands. I almost forgot to breathe as he hooked the leather length over my head and positioned the strap across my back. He threaded the end through the brass buckle and pulled the belt tight below my breasts, trapping my arms by my side. The tug of the restraint forced a low grunt of need from me. Jeez, it gets me every time, that subtle imposition of dominance. It might be the press of bondage, the hint of bossiness in bed, the fist gripping my hair as we kiss goodnight in the street.
‘That OK?’ he asked. He ran a thumb over one taut nipple.
‘More than,’ I breathed.
Kristina Lloyd writes erotic fiction about sexually submissive women who like it on the dark, dirty and dangerous side. Her novels are published by Black Lace and her short stories have appeared in dozens of anthologies, including several ‘best of’ collection, in both the UK and US. She lives in Brighton, England.
When Lana Greenwood attends a glamorous house party she finds herself tempted into a ménage à trois. But the morning after brings more than just regrets over fulfilling a fantasy one night stand. One of the men she’s spent the night with is discovered dead in the swimming pool. Accident, suicide or murder, no one is sure and Lana doesn’t know where to turn. Can she trust Sol, the other man, an ex-New Yorker with a dirty smile and a deep desire to continue their kinky game?