Available March 16, 2015
Find out more from our post "New Release: Bad Boy Good Man - Jenny Trout writing as Abigail Barnette".
Tomorrow, 16 March 2015, is the release date of the Bad Boy Next Door box set. Hence we have just one more day for a sneak preview and to have one more look at that fetchy hunk on the cover (you didn't really get tired of him, did you?)
Our last teaser is
The Spanking House by Alison Tyler"The Spanking House is a fantastical tale of a writer struggling against the beast known as "writer's block." Mia Rogers rents a cozy cottage in a small town in hopes of jumpstarting the novel she can't seem to finish. When she meets Tripp Johnson, she becomes motivated in ways she previously hadn't thought possible."
The walls were black. There was a modern-looking bed in the center of the room, with a glossy black headboard and footboard made of some serious metal. The floor was black. There were halogen lights in the corners. On a low table were a series of paddles organized by size.
I fell back. Tripp held me up.
“What did I tell you that you needed?” he asked, his voice hardly above a whisper.
“And do you?”
I was nodding, but I realized he wanted to hear me say the word. “Yes,” I hissed. “Yes, Tripp.”
It was different this time. His blue eyes were colder. His whole demeanor had shifted. I recalled the way I’d felt cocooned in the softness of his feather duvet. I recalled the lightness of the other room, the flowers dropping petals on the dresser, the scent of wood smoke in the air.
This room felt sterile and chilled. I shivered when I was naked. Tripp moved quickly, a predator. There was no languid, slow unfolding now. This was hard and fast, my mind desperately trying to keep up.
Tripp sat on the edge of the bed and he patted his lap. I stepped forward, clumsily, and draped myself across his thighs. I stared miserably down at the floor, thinking that I wouldn’t have been in this embarrassing position if only I had worked harder, if only I had been more diligent in my tasks.
“I’m going to start slow,” Tripp said, “since this is your first time.”
I felt a wave of inexplicable emotions well up inside me. I was demolished because I’d let Tripp—and myself—down. But I sensed something else. A desire was building within me. If Tripp had touched his fingers between my legs he would have found an unexpected wetness, a small lake of sex juices.
But he didn’t.
He started spanking me, and I sucked in my breath at the sensation. His hand was firm and strong against my naked ass. The pain was instantaneous. A startling, vibrant blow that hurt more than I would have expected. Immediately, he landed a matching smack on my other cheek. I didn’t have any way to process the emotions I was feeling. The pain shocked me. As if I’d stepped into a shower expecting heat only to receive a blast of cold, icy water. But there was more to this than shock. Tripp pressed me down against his lap, and his knee made contract with my split. I could feel how my pussy was reacting to the spanking. And damn if I wasn’t seven kinds of turned on.
“You were supposed to work like a good girl,” Tripp said.
I lowered my head even further.
His hand was a blur against my backside.
“You were supposed to bring me pages in a folder, and instead, you came over empty-handed.”
My palms were now pressed against the polished wood floor. I could feel the pain radiating from where Tripp had spanked me. I wondered what he would do next. I knew he’d said discipline—several times—but would he leave me without release?
About the Author
She is the editor of more than 50 erotic anthologies, including Alison’s Wonderland, Naked Erotica, Naughty Fairy Tales from A to Z, and With This Ring, I Thee Bed. Her 25 novels include Tiffany Twisted, Melt With You, and Something About Workmen.
Ms. Tyler is loyal to coffee (black), lipstick (red), and tequila (straight). She has tattoos, but no piercings; a wicked tongue, but a quick smile; and bittersweet memories, but no regrets. She believes the rain won’t fall if she doesn’t bring an umbrella, prefers hot and dry to cold and wet, and loves to spout her favorite motto: “You can sleep when you’re dead.” She chooses Led Zeppelin over the Beatles, the Cure over the Smiths, and the Stones over everyone—yet although she appreciates good rock, she has a pitiful weakness for ’80s hair bands.
In all things important, she remains faithful to her husband of 18 years, but she still can’t choose just one perfume.