Rocky Mountain Ride CHAPTER 1

Rocky Mountain Ride:


Inspiration for Sebastian (Paul Bettany)

*** Lord James Sebastian Chivington the third sat in a dirty bar in San Luis Valley, Colorado. It was ten o’clock in the morning, and he’d just started drinking.  

“All right, boss,” his guide, a man called Cage, sat down beside the lord, and gave a world weary sigh. “What’s the plan for the day?”

Sebastian shrugged. “The usual,” he said, and watched Cage’s shoulders slump. For the British lord, a typical day looked like drinking, smoking, and spending his father’s money, with the occasional hunt or lay with a lightskirt thrown in for good measure. Not quite the adventure the older man had been looking for when he signed on to Sebastian’s entourage.

Cage looked as frustrated as Sebastian felt.

“Any news, my good man?” Sebastian called to the bartender.

The man shrugged. “Not much around here. The war ended a week ago. Lee surrendered.”

Sebastian raised his glass in mock toast. “Well done. About time you colonists stopped killing each other.”

The bartender turned away, shaking his head at his foreign customer. Lord Sebastian wore an outfit of his own design: a fine suit that flattered his lanky frame, with the addition of a neatly pressed bandanna around his neck and over-sized black hat to keep the sun off his fair skin. The effect was rather ridiculous. Cage had warned him about standing out too much from the rugged, dirty men who made up the sparse populace of the West, but

Sebastian didn’t care if he looked a fool. He found life was more interesting when people didn’t take him seriously.


Inspiration for Cage

“Just so you know, boss, most folk here don’t like being called colonists,” Cage said. 

“No?” Sebastian lifted a blond brow. “I shall inform the Queen Mother.” 

Two more of Sebastian’s hired hands joined him as he sipped his drink. Behind their table, a card game started up.

“Want a whiskey?” Sebastian offered his three companions.

“Is that what you call that horse piss?” Cage said. “And no. I’ll stick to coffee until midday.” The two others agreed.

“Suit yourself,” Sebastian shrugged. “You Americans and your coffee. Haven’t you heard of tea? It’s much better if you don’t try to steep it in Boston harbor… and then when your king sends help, throw a Revolution.”

The men at the card game stopped to glare at the blond lord. Sebastian gave them a cheery wave. He’d found in life you could say whatever you wanted as long as you acted ridiculous. The old court jester trick.

“I prefer coffee varnish for breakfast.” He drained his glass and raised it to signal the bartender. “Garcon! Another!”

If his guides felt disgust they hid it well. Then again, they were used to seeing their employer drink a quarter bottle of whiskey before noon.

“Milord.” Cage used Sebastian’s title with more sarcasm that respect. But that was all right; as the third son of a duke, and slated because of birth to receive no more than a fraction of his father’s estate, Sebastian felt the same way about his breeding. “Perhaps you might give some thought to where we’ll travel next.”

“I don’t know, Cage.” Sebastian raised his glass and pretended to squint at the amber liquid, all the while studying his hired man.

Cage was typical American western stock. Practical. Ageless, timeless, tanned skin with wrinkles around his faded blue eyes. Dark hair with a touch of silver. Popular enough with the ladies, but mostly a loner, married to his horse and saddle, the wind and sky, and wild outdoors.

Compared to Cage, Sebastian was a pale blond cherub, a bit long in the face, and too old and tall to be a good addition to any Raphael painting. There was a rakish twinkle in his blue eyes that boredom and general malaise hadn’t quite dimmed. He saw it every morning in the shaving glass, and supposed that when it was gone, he would give up and go home.

His fingers tightened around the glass. Home was not a pleasant thought. As the third son of a duke he had all of the prestige, some of the money, and none of the title—or the power and land that went with it. Completely lacking responsibility and cursed with brains enough to know it, he’d been kicked out of school and then was shipped off to the navy. Then, on his mother’s insistence, brought back into society until he made a mess of things and his father sent him to America.

“Go,” the duke had said. “And don’t come back until you’re a man.”

Sebastian had amused himself in the American West hunting buffalo, but after bagging two, had no more desire to kill things. That alone set him apart from the typical British upper crust. Studies bored him, familial duty bored him, the ton was interesting until his father realized he was skirt chasing and banished him to the colonies.
And now Sebastian was in a saloon in San Luis Valley, looking for answers in the bottom of a dirty glass.

Frowning, he announced to the Cage, “I need a quest.”

“A what?”

“A quest, a cause. Like King Arthur’s knights of the Round what-sit. A chance for heroics, valor. Perhaps a lady who needs rescuing from an evil…something. You know…a Grendel. Or whatever.”

Cage’s blank face reminded Sebastian that book learning was rare in the Wild West. Men learned to read a sky or an animal track, not Keats or Tennyson.

“A damsel in distress!” Sebastian slammed his glass onto the table for emphasis.

“You mean a woman?”

“Yes! No! Not just a woman. A fair lady who needs my help. I’ll perform heroic actions in her honor. Pledge my troth. Whatever that is.”

Francesca 2


Cage tipped back his chair, balancing it on two legs. “Hate to remind you, boss, but ladies aren’t exactly in plentiful supply ‘round here. And I sure as hell ain’t never seen a damsel.” 

Sebastian sighed. “Then lets be on our way.”

Cage’s chair came down with a thump. “Really?”

“I think so. Pack the bags and saddle up at once.”

All three men rose and hurried off, returning a few minutes later with their bags. They’d probably been packing them every morning, in hopes they’d be leaving soon. Two of the men headed out towards the stables while Cage sat down.

“Took the liberty of throwing all your things into the packs. The men will saddle up the horses so we’ll be ready as soon as you want to go.”

Sebastian winced, but finding a good valet was a bloody impossible feat in the colonies. His mother would be horrified at the current state of his suits.

“So where are we going, boss?”

“California, Texas.” Sebastian shrugged. “One thing for certain: we’ve seen all this valley has to offer.”

As he finished speaking, the door to the saloon blew open and a woman stalked inside in a flurry of skirts. Clad in black, from her boots to a large black veil falling over her face and down her back, she paused in the door with the light behind her. Every man’s head whipped around. As Cash had pointed out, a woman was a rare enough sight this far in the rugged west. Other than the soiled doves, Sebastian had never seen a lady in a saloon, and certainly not one dressed in widows weeds.

“Charlie the Red?” she called in English with a slight Spanish accent. The card game had stopped, and the man with the red bandana turned, rising out of his chair with a smirk on his face. “Can I help you, ma’am?”

The woman threw back the black lace veil, revealing a lovely, narrow face, caramel skin flushed and dark eyes sparkling with passion.

“Yes,” she said. “You can die.” The woman pulled a gun out from her voluminous skirts and shot the man in the chest.


Sebastian and Cage leaped to their feet, guns already out, even though they’d have to be hard pressed before they shoot a woman. The force of the woman’s bullets sent the man crashing backwards into the card table. The other players scattered. The man in the red bandana was dead before his body hit the floor.

“Blood for blood,” the woman spat. She turned on her heel and was gone, leaving all but the dead man staring after her, guns in hand.

“By Jove,” Sebastian burst out, breaking the terrible calm. “Who was that?”

Rocky Mountain Ride coming soon…

May I present Pearl’s Possession

Today, I have a new release! Read on for a letter of introduction, a blurb, and an excerpt!
Pearl's Possesion (1)
I’m so excited to present Pearl’s Possession, a menage addition to the fantastic Red Petticoat series.  The first thing you should know is that this book has way, way too much sex in it.

I’m serious. Part of the reason I wrote it during my second trimester of pregnancy, when the hormones were just raging.

The other reason is that I wanted to write a menage romance–one woman, multiple men. Menage appeals to me–you can take the facets of a perfect man and separate them out. You like blonds? Brunettes? Hard doms and sweet daddies? Someone to whip you and someone to cuddle? You can have it all.
Besides, twice the men means twice the orgasms…
The thing is, I overdid it. Pearl gets possessed (read: fucked) by not one, not two, but FIVE men. Individually, in pairs, three at a time–every combination you can think of. Plus spankings, anal play, forced orgasms, servile submission, and rope play…
Did I mention that I was really horny?
I loved writing the very different personalities of Pearl’s five lovers: some sweet, some dominant, all of them hot and totally intent on possessing–and being possessed by–their Pearl. I had so much fun writing them I finished the book in record time and sent it off to friends for their feedback. Their verdict: the book has way, way too much sex.
But I’ll leave it to you to decide. 😉
Happy Reading! 😀


Five husbands; one Possessed Pearl.

When Pearl starts working as a gem at The Red Petticoat saloon, she knows she’s found the place where she belongs. After all, her husband cast her out for being too lusty of a wife. She quickly comes to enjoy her clients, especially her five constant regulars, so much so, that when one of her regulars proposes marriage, she declines. How can one man satisfy her?

Things change when all five of her regulars come to her with a marriage proposal—live with them as a bride to five 5 cowboyshusbands.

Can Pearl face her fear of marriage and allow herself to be claimed by not one man, but five?

Disclaimer: This book contains the spanking of adult women and explicit sexual scenes including multiple partners and anal play.

“Are you wet now?” Cash asked in a tone that warned me to tell the truth.
“Yes,” I whispered, my cheeks staining with shame. Sitting in Cash’s lap, two men’s hands stroking up and down my legs, I was primed and ready for a long, hard fuck.
“If I told you we were going to tie you up, and use you the way we did that first night, would that excite you?”
My throat clogged before I could answer, but he added, “Be honest, Pearl, or I’ll turn you over my knee right now and spank you.”
“Yes,” I croaked, and a ripple of excitement ran around the room.  
“Good girl.”
My nipples hardened at the command in his voice. Through my thin shift, Cash could see evidence of my arousal, and nodded thoughtfully. Lifting my foot, Samson nipped at my ankle. My cunny grew slick with my juices.
“We want you to say yes, Pearl.”
“You’ll spend the night with us,” Cash said. He cupped my chin so he was sure of my attention. Of course, I would’ve agreed to anything at that point.  
“We’ll have one last night to enjoy your body and give you pleasure. If you truly don’t want us, we’ll take you back.” His voice deepened. “Of course, we’ll know if you’re lying. And lying means you’ll be punished.” 

#WIPitup Pearl plays with her men….



WIP it up! This week I have an excerpt from Pearl’s Possession, my addition to the Red Petticoat series, coming June 15th. A brothel worker who loves sex, Pearl is kidnapped by 5 of her regular customers to be their shared bride… Pearl's Possesion (1)


“You planned this, from the beginning,” I said. “Yes, Pearl,” Cash said. “As soon as we spent that night with you, we knew you would be ours.”
“You came to me every week. Or almost every week.”

“Aye,” Brock answered in his brogue. “It was quite a journey, and I couldnae do it every time, but we all wanted to see you, and court you one on one.”

“I don’t understand.” How could five men want one woman?

“You will,” Cash said, and I shivered with the promise. These men were not going to take no for an answer.

Samson and Brock kissed me and left my side, only to be replaced by Jonas and Orion. My men were all about the same age, I would say Cash was the oldest, Jonas the youngest. Orion the second youngest, perhaps, then Brock and Samson.

Jonas and Orion couldn’t be more different, one tanned and the other fair, but they both had a boyish gleam in their eye.

“Take this off,” Jonas said, and with two extra pairs of hands I was quickly naked. Orion smacked my bum lightly.

“Up,” he ordered, and I took my usual place on hands and knees, this time right over Orion’s crotch as he positioned himself on his back. His trousers were pulled down and cock already out. Licking my lips, I bent my head, only to lurch forward when the wagon hit a bump.

“Maybe not with your mouth, sweet one,” Orion whispered, disappointed.

“Here.” Jonas handed him a jar of ointment. With a wicked smile, Orion teased and tormented my hanging breasts, coating them with lubricant. Then he had me crouch down, practically kissing his chest, and squeeze his long cock between my breasts. I bounced up and down like that as best I could—at least, the wagon bounced me even if I held still.

Orion was tensing and thrusting his hips into the crevice of my breasts when I felt Jonas slip a slick digit into my bum. And just like that, I was more hot and bothered then I had ever been. I started moaning like crazy, and clenching around the invading probe in my ass.

“No, Pearl,” Jonas took out his finger and smacked my bottom hard. “You may not cum.” Shocked that I had been about to lose control from just a finger in my bottom, I turned my attention back to pleasuring Orion. Sticking out my tongue, I got a few licks onto the head of his cock before he spurted up into my face. Wiping his seed from my skin I tasted it and got another moan from him. Behind me, Jonas was rubbing himself off furiously.

Lowering my front to lick up more seed from Orion’s taut stomach, I let my ass sway in a sexy dance just for him. I might be apprehensive about the situation, but I was still my gem self—wanton and filled with whorish desire.

During sex could I let myself go.

“Reach back and hold open your ass,” Jonas ordered.

Confused, I hesitated, but Orion knew what to do. He guided my hands back. “Grab your cheeks and show him your cute little bum hole.”

My face nestled just above Orion’s crotch, I gripped a fleshy globe in either hand and showed Jonas his favorite part of my body. Jonas started gasping and I felt his seed paint my back. He cursed over and over again.

“Good Pearl,” Orion whispered, collecting my hair back from my face.

Nuzzling his belly, I kissed his lean muscles, lapping up the rest of his cum.

That’s how Cash found us, Orion on his back and Jonas kneeling behind me, my face and back glistening with their cum. “My god, Pearl. You’re perfect for us.”


Pearl’s Possession: Chapter 1

5 Possessed Pearl

This is chapter one of Pearl’s Possession, my addition to the Red Petticoat series. Pearl is one of the “gems” who entertains men upstairs at the saloon. Read on as she starts her career off with a bang…

My name is Pearl and I’m a whore. I work as one of Madame Jewel’s gems at the Red Petticoat Saloon. Some women are here because they need money, or safety, or work. I’m here because of those things, but also because I’m a wanton woman, overflowing with craven desire. Let me explain.

When I first came to the saloon, Madame Jewel heard my life story in full. She examined me carefully and told me that with my sizable curves and height, I was perfect to fill a request a certain client had. In one night I could guarantee my place in her saloon and make a profit besides. All I had to do was agree to the terms. I heard them, and immediately did. Not because of the money, although that certainly helped. But because what she offered—a night where I was bound and captive while a party of men took over my body—was exactly what I craved.

My former husband had loved my sexual appetite, but soon had grown tired of my constant need and accused me of cheating on him. I had never looked at another man, but I couldn’t help my appetite. I was always wet and ready. Even the sound of the shop clerk reading out a list of groceries sometimes made my special places clench and slicken.

was a Jezebel of the worst kind. But Madame could use me, and so I agreed to start off my career with a bang. My first night working in the saloon, I was bathed and prepped for the party. Madame Jewel helped me herself. She did not paint my face, saying the men would wish to see my pale skin, blue eyes and dark hair without any paint or artifice. I was clothed in a loose white gown, the thin, silky fabric clinging and revealing more than it concealed.

By the men’s request, I was bound lightly by my wrists to the headboard of a large bed. The scarves wound around my arms. My legs were left free. I didn’t mind, just having the scarves securing my wrists made me feel like I was tied down and helpless, and couldn’t escape what would be wrought on my body. But I wanted it. As soon as the door creaked open, I was in a puddle of my own juices.

Madame Jewel had put out punch and cakes in an effort to entertain the idea of a party. It was all a farce. The men surrounded the bed almost immediately. I could hear their boots on the floor and smell the slightly smoky masculine scent of leather and the outdoors, along with a faint trace of soap. My eyes were blindfolded by another scarf, but I could imagine them standing around the bed, some short, some tall, some with broad shoulders, some lean but still muscled from their work, and all of them staring very hungrily down at the bed.

“Her nipples are already hard,” one of them murmured and I couldn’t help but shiver.

“Gentlemen, she’s all yours,” Madame Jewel said, and I heard the door close.

For a beat, nothing happened, no sound no movement. I waited, wondering if they were pleased with me, or whether they would leave and tell the Madame to cast me out, that I was unfit for even this purpose. I heard a whisper of something near my right ear, and turned.

“Are you afraid, lass?” a very soft Scottish brogue asked. I shook my head, not trusting my voice to work. “We’re going to put our hands on ye, and fuck ye. You’re verra beautiful and we want you verra much, but first we want to know that you give your consent.” 

To my left, someone was working the scarves free, starting to unbind me.

“No, please,” I gasped, and caught the hands at my wrists, stopping them in their work. “I want this.”

“Do ye truly? It is not some artifice that the Madame trained ye for?” I shook my head.

“Her body’s already aroused, Brock,” one of the men reminded him, and I heard other voices around hushing him. “No names.”

But lest the pronouncement of my arousal did not convince Brock, I gave a humiliated sob, and spread my legs so they all could see every inch of my wantonness—the thick and shiny juices painting my inner thighs, and my little pale pearl glistening in the pink shell of my lips.

One of the men—maybe Brock—sucked in a harsh breath at the sight.

“Easy,” someone murmured. “You’ll get your turn. We all will.” The words made me shiver. The man at the headboard took my hands and, very gently, bound them back up. They did not, to my great relief, touch the blindfold.

“All right, lass. We’re gonna give ye a good fucking and no mistake. Ye’ve earned it.” I had never heard such admiration in anyone’s tone.

The men were true to their word, first they touched me, a myriad of hands stroking up and down my limbs lightly, then with more certainty. My heart beat faster—they could touch and see me but I could do neither. I was truly helpless. Whether they loved me or broke me was up to them. One of them—Brock, I liked to think—leaned down and kissed my cheek.

By now I was warm to their touch; I turned my head and sought his lips. The other gems who worked at the Petticoat warned me about kissing men and making eye contact. The connection of lips and gaze was dangerous because it could easily ensnare a woman. I was still blindfolded so I figured I was safe. The man’s face was bristled and scratchy with a beard, but his lips were sweet and the kiss we shared I’ll never forget. Especially because it ended when another man bent his head and put his hot mouth over my breast.

“Oh.” I jerked a little in my bounds.

“You like that?” Brock whispered as the mouth at my breast continued to worry the flesh.

“Yes, sir. Very much.”

He chuckled. “Keep calling us ‘sir.’ If ye’re a good gem, we’ll reward ye.” And with that, all manner of hands fell on me, two for each leg, rubbing and massaging, enjoying my soft skin. My other breast was claimed by a large mouth. A slight beard chafed my soft flesh, and I loved it. Arching my back, I tried to encourage them to suck harder, but then someone put their hand between my legs and I jerked again in surprise.

“Soaked,” the man confirmed and a second hand joined the first, two sets of fingers swirling on my thighs, dipping down to collect some of the dew there.

“Taste yourself, love,” Brock said, and two fingers touched my lips. Immediately I opened and sucked them in, swirling my tongue around the digits, lapping up the sweetness.

“She wants it.”

“Someone’s going to give ye another kiss,” Brock narrated. “But this time on yer cunny. Get ready. Ye’ll know much pleasure before the night is out.”

He was right. Slowly one of the hands and mouths broke away from the others, and started licking up my leg. He took his sweet time. Every second felt like forever, and I fought to stay quiet as the men stoked my passion higher and higher. They were touching me nonstop, so many hands I couldn’t keep track. Someone even sucked on my toes while rubbing my feet a little with a giant hand. I wasn’t a small woman but I felt tiny and petite compared to the hands on my skin, dominating, claiming. Someone else kissed my cheek, and tugged my hair gently, pulling my head to the side so he could continue kissing down my neck. Hot breath swirled against my skin before a tongue stabbed into my ear. At the same time, the man settled between my legs, reached my honeypot and laid a hot wet mouth right on my cunny.

“Oh!” I arched up off the bed, feeling the tongue in my ear shoot pleasure straight south while the warm mouth at my special place sent sparks shooting everywhere. I moaned loudly, and the tongues rewarded me, probing, sucking, licking. I could hear my juices squelching but I wasn’t ashamed. This was what my body was made for, to be worshiped, to be handled, to be loved. And then to be taken, completely claimed.

But that would come later. For now, the men continued their work, pushing me inexorably towards the brink. I had pleasured myself earlier, so I might relax and focus on my customer’s needs (another bit of advice from the other gems). My desire ran so hot I usually pleasured myself several times a day. When I told Madame Jewel this, she had smiled. My high level of passion made me the perfect gem. But I wasn’t a wanton, wicked woman at that moment. I was a treasure, a pearl, shiny with desire and cherished by many men. Five in fact.

Eventually, when I had cum screaming and the man between my legs came up to give me a wet and sloppy kiss, Brock announced their intention.

“We’re gonna fuck ye now. And ye’ll like it, and cum again. We’re not small but we’ll make sure ye receive your pleasure.” Before the fucking, though, there was more touching, and teasing, and massage, until finally I put my feet on the mattress, spread my legs as wide as they would go, and pushed my bottom up, offering my pussy in full view.

“Please, sirs,” I begged, shameless. The mouths at my nipples paused their delicious torture. “Please, fuck me.”

“With pleasure,” one of the men growled in a deep voice.

“We’ll fill ye, soon enough,” Brock said, and even his voice was growing raspy, hoarse with desire. The man between my legs pulled me to where he wanted me. His rough hands cupped my bottom, kneading my fleshy globes and his large hands and presence made me feel petite. The head of his cock slid up and down my slit, stimulating the sensitive area and gaining plenty of lubrication. He put his cock right at my entrance, and as he pressed in, a smile curved my lips. He was not small. He wasn’t too big, either. He was just right. Then he surged forward and I was in heaven. His cock stretched me quickly, and filled my channel, I couldn’t help but move my hips and meet him. There was no one to judge me and tell me I was a hussy to enjoy this so much. I was a gem; I was supposed to give the ultimate pleasure to the men who paid. If I took some at the same time, who would know? Perhaps my eagerness would add to the excitement.

There were still hands on my breasts. Brock came around to my head, touching my hair and kissing me every once in awhile, telling me how beautiful I was in his distinct brogue. I made sure to smile at him, even as his friend between my legs pounded me towards another orgasm.

“So tight, and wet,” the man gasped. “Perfect.”

“My turn,” said another, higher voice, and a second cock took the first one’s place. This one was long and narrower, but slid in easily and hit a deep place inside me that had me convulsing in no time. He came and gave my lips a very chaste kiss. So sweet, I nibbled on his lips a little to encourage him.

“Take my place,” Brock said, and he went down for his turn. The sweet mouth stayed near my face, while Brock filled me. When he came I was wet and slick, full of their seed. My body was buzzing, each part of me alive and singing, but not replete. Not yet. The men first gave me a break. My blindfold was askew. Before I could ask, someone tightened and straightened it while another undid my scarves.

“Help her up.” Two men did, careful of the blindfold. “Drink this.” They gave me some water, and then some punch, and then more water by my request. One man sat to my left and one to my right on the bed, cradling me, helping me drink.

“You tired, lass?” I shook my head. I was well used, but ready for more. They laid me down again and tied my wrists apart this time, one to one bed post and one to another so my chest was exposed to them. It was less of a strain than the other position, though I had been grateful for the first as the tighter binding made me feel more helpless, a feeling I enjoyed.

With my arms stretched apart, the man who climbed on could lick and suck at my breasts while he sat his cock at my entrance. Which is exactly what he did. He was absolutely huge, but I was so wet and stretched from the other three, it felt wonderful. I wrapped my legs around his massive form as far as they would go, and encouraged him to take me hard. As the giant between my legs bottomed out, I was shouting my pleasure so loudly someone else gave me fingers to suck. He’d dipped them in punch to make them sweet and I licked and caressed them with my tongue.

“I want her mouth,” he sighed.

“Next time,” someone told him, and I felt a thrill that there would be a next time. The fifth, and final, played with my pussy, then touched my bottom hole.

“Right here,” he said. I clenched as his finger probed the little dark star of my bottom. It didn’t feel awful, just different.

“Not tonight,” someone said firmly, and the finger retreated.

“I want to unbind your hands,” the fifth said. “I want you to touch me.”

“All right,” I whispered. At the moment I wanted that more than anything too. One of the men undid my bindings, but checked my blindfold.

“For your protection,” he said gruffly.

“More for ours,” Brock said reprovingly. I was barely listening. I didn’t care who these men were, or why they all wanted to take me at once; I wanted to get fucked. The man’s cock at my cunt nudged forward, my arms came down and closed around him, and started to stroke up and down his muscled back. He wasn’t as big as the fourth man, or as long and narrow as the second. His cock curved down a little, so he asked for and got a pillow to put under my ass, angling me to take him deep. I sang my praises of this position when my last—and largest—orgasm crashed over my entire body.

They took such good care of me, taking turns cleaning me with a damp cloth, and helping me drink more water. One of them fed me some cake, bit by bit. My hands were unbound, but both of us pretended I was still tied and helpless.

“Lovely,” he sighed, and kissed me. All the men kissed me. The big one very gently, the smallest man with more ardent force. They were thanking me, I understood, and felt a pang that they had to leave. I would never see them again, and even though I hadn’t actually seen their faces, I felt a connection to all these men. When they were gone, I would feel the loss.

For a moment I wondered what it would be like to be joined to one or more of these men. To be whole and worthy enough for them to cherish me, and come to my bed for more than just my services. What would it be like to spend all night with them, tucked between two of their large bodies? To feel safe, protected, and, for the first time since my disastrous marriage, loved. I knew it could not be. I was not a whole or proper woman; my marriage had taught me that. I was not fit to be a wife. The most I could give was my body, an hour or a night of pleasure. My craven desires were too much for one man, and, at the same time, my love could never be enough.

Brock was last. He kissed my lips, then my forehead in a tender gesture.

“You’re a gem, lass,” he said. I smiled. I was a gem; I was one of Madame Jewel’s gems now. If this was to be my life, night in and night out, I had no complaints. I wanted him to stay—to prolong the sweet moment. But this was the last minute I had with him—and I had to let him know what he meant to me. I was so tired, but I reached out, catching his arm so I could keep him close enough to hear my whisper.

“Thank you,” I sighed. “So much.”

And then I slept like the dead.


Meet the Berserkers


BerserkerBanner (1)



“Do ye like yer smooth cunny?” He lay his cheek on my thigh, his beard scratching me lightly. Wet poured from me and he inhaled, his eyes glowing brighter. He began laying kisses on my inner thighs and soft lips, waiting for me to admit my struggles had been in vain.

Setting my jaw, I reached down and tried to tug his head forward, to force him to lick me as I liked. Daegan caught my hands in surprise.

Samuel chuckled so hard, his laugh shook me as I lay back on his chest. I shot him an annoyed look.

“She grows bolder,” Samuel said to Daegan in an approving tone.

“Aye, she’s a courageous one. But it is a pleasure to teach her to mind.” Holding my hands away, Daegan used his tongue to tame me, laving up and down my soft, wet heat until I writhed and gasped. He pulled away with a wicked smile.


Claimed by two fearsome warriors, can Brenna accept her place as their true mate?

“What do ye say, Brenna. Are ye glad to be shaved?”

I glared at him and he teased me some more. Finally I nodded vigorously, silently begging for release.

“Good lass,” he praised me, using finger and little kisses on my pleasure bud to send me convulsing over the edge. All too soon, he was kissing and licking me again, and the coil of pleasure tightened in me again.

As he worshiped between my legs, his finger dipped and probed lightly at my bottom hole. I clenched and he shot me an impish look.

“One day, wee one,” He said to me. “I will take you here while my brother takes your cunny, and we will claim you together.”

As his finger slipped in and out of my lower hole, I scrunched my features and made a face.

Daegan’s laugh echoed around the chamber.

“You dinnae like the sound of that, lass?”

I squirmed away from his finger, still frowning.

“Brenna,” Samuel warned, clutching me tighter.

“It’s all right, brother,” Daegan soothed. “Brenna, ye dinnae believe I can make it feel good?”

Before I could nod or shake my head, he dipped his head and fastened his mouth on my overstimulated nub. I tried to escape, but between him and Samuel I couldn’t move to escape Daegan’s insistent tongue. My mouth opened in a silent gasp, and Samuel gripped my hair, turning my head to claim my mouth. I panted and Samuel drew back, nibbling on my lips instead. Between my legs, Daegan did the same, licking and sucking until I gasped into Samuel’s kiss.

Over the next few minutes, I learned something about my two warriors: they thought the same. One would probe his tongue into my mouth, stabbing and possessing, while the other thrust his tongue into my cunny. My mouth fell open, lax, and my eyes were half lidded as two men fed on my sweet lips, one above, one below. Samuel transferred his snuffling kisses to my ears, while Daegan remained at the center of my legs, sucking on my pleasure spot until I shuddered onto the pelts.

In the languid aftermath of my release, I realized Daegan had ventured further, sweeping his tongue up between my buttocks. It felt good, but I fought to close my legs and keep him out. With a small growl, he pinned my thighs and, gripping my bum cheeks to hold them open, vigorously tongued my dark hole.

I didn’t want it to feel good, but it did. I reminded myself that he’d washed me thoroughly. All the same, I was glad when he added two fingers to my cunny, stroking my sensitive pearl to another shattering climax.

“Is she ready for a good hard fucking?” Daegan asked Samuel as I lay convulsing on the pelts.

“She was born for it,” Samuel growled and swung into place over me.


When Brenna’s father sells her to a band of passing warriors, her only thought is to survive. She doesn’t expect to be claimed by the two fearsome warriors who lead the Berserker clan. Kept in captivity, she is coddled and cared for, treated more like a savior than a slave. Can captivity lead to love? And when she discovers the truth behind the myth of the fearsome warriors, can she accept her place as the Berserkers’ true mate? $.99 and in Kindle UnlimitedWIPimage12




WIP it Up Wednesday: You know what naughty little girls get?


By popular request, here’s a bit from Rocky Mountain Ride, due out sometime…soon. Book 7 in the series, stars a hot blooded Spanish woman and a British lord, both drawn into dangerous events in the San Louis Valley, Colorado. In this excerpt, Sebastian and Francesca dance around their desires…


When she studiously ignored him, he caught her arm and swung her to the side, back to the wall.

“Señora De La Vega. I am speaking to you.”

“Let me go,” she hissed, but not loud enough for anyone in the hacienda to hear. 

“I told you before, I will not tolerate disrespect. I have offered you nothing but my help—”

“Ha!” she spat.

“—but continue in this vein and your bottom will pay the price.”

She jerked at her arm, but he held it fast. “And just what do you mean by that?”

“What I mean is,” he stepped closer, “you are angling for another whipping.”  Close enough to feel her breath on his face, he got another shock when he saw heat leap into her eyes. Her eyes burned brighter, and his mouth almost dropped open.

“You want it,” he said hoarsely. “You want another…”

For a second, her lips parted, and her eyes half-lidded with desire. Then she wrenched her arm away.

“You sound like Bishop Bernardo. He once offered to whip me at all the stations of the cross, as penance for my sins.  Under the pretext of saving my mortal soul.”

Sebastian’s felt a surge of anger that the priest would suggest such a thing. If anyone was going to mark her skin, he wanted it to be him. He pretended to consider it. “A good whipping can send you straight to heaven through hell. And you need one, badly.”

“Do I, my lord?” she asked in a throaty whisper. Wanton seductress. She knew exactly what she was doing.

“You are playing with fire.”

She licked her cherry red lips and he could take no more.

“Perhaps Bishop Bernardo is right. You do need to be punished. And I’m just the one to do it.”

Triumph surged in her face.

“You,” she sneered and stepped back. “You are just a boy, Chivington. Spoiled and bored, playing at farming before he runs off to spend his father’s money. I need a man.”

“You will treat me with respect or I will teach it to you.” Stop, Sebastian, he scolded himself. This was ridiculous. He had to leave before he made a mistake, even if the little temptress begged for it.

For a second he indulged, stepping close enough to smell her sweet scent. In addition to the rose water in her hair, she had rubbed something on her skin and he breathed deep of the intoxicating aroma before deliberately stepping back and starting to walk away.

“You are afraid,” Francesca spat.

That was it.

He whirled and backed her against the wall. Birds chirped in the trees above them, but the peaceful bliss of the orchard didn’t penetrate the heated space between them. Sebastian’s anger pulsed along with his passion. Did Francesca live every moment with that hunger? It was all he could do to keep from throwing her to her hands and knees on the forest floor, pushing up her skirts and taking her from behind, slapping her ass and tugging her hair the whole time.

“I’m man enough to defend your honor. One of us is acting like a responsible adult, and it isn’t you. And you know what naughty little girls get?” He leaned closer. “Punished.”

Her pupils widened, eyes filling with darkness.

He stepped back, willing himself to get control. As much as he wanted to, he couldn’t discipline her out here. “Go inside. Tell Ana I am taking a walk. Meet me in the apothecary. Understand?”

“Yes,” she said in a breathy voice. She started to go and he pulled her back roughly.

“Make me wait too long and I will double the strokes.”


Things are heating up in San Luis Valley!


#WIPitUP Rocky Mountain Ride

In this clip from Rocky Mountain Ride, Francesca and British Lord Jame Sebastian Chivington meet for the first time…


While gunfire exploded at her back, Francesca wondered who the blond man was, and why he and his friends were fighting her other pursuers.

Then her horse leapt and stumbled, tossing her from the saddle. Francesca hit the ground and rolled, coming up bruised but otherwise unhurt. The horse was screaming, though, and she raced to its side, only to recoil at the sight of bone in its broken leg. With a sob, she whirled to find her gun. Better to put it out of its misery and go forth on foot, rather than risk the animal’s cries drawing more attention.

She lifted her gun from the forest floor and took aim. The shot sounded and the horse’s cries stopped, and she heard the sound of another horse, behind her.

Whirling, she came face to face with the flaxen haired man, dismounting from his stallion. He must have followed her after his calvary arrived to fend off the bandannas.

Beyond him, in the woods, she could hear sounds of a gunfight.

“Don’t shoot,” he said. “I mean you no harm.”

Backing into the bracken, she shook her head. He would not take her alive. Her heart pounded as she raised the gun, pointing it at him.

“No,” the man shouted, lunging for her. She recognized him then; the lanky blond from the bar. He’d followed her all this way.

Her eyes closed as she took the shot. To her horror, the empty barrel clicked its terrible announcement: no more bullets. The man tackled her and drove her to the ground.

She found with everything she had, thrashing even as the man grabbed for her wrists. He wrestled to her back, his long length weighing her down.

“Hell and damnation,” he growled. “I told you I meant no harm.”

“Get off of me,” she screeched, and tried to claw his face.

When he didn’t let go of her she bit his wrist.

He bellowed, flipping her over and resting a knee on her back.

“My lady, you will desist,” he ordered in his crisp accent. “This is a rescue. I am attempting chivalry—”

“Liar! Let me go!” she shrieked, thrashing and kicking as she tried to get away.

“Not while you’re bloody trying to kill me!” He caught her arms and shifted more of his weight onto her back, effectively pinning her.

She rattled out a string of Spanish curses, and then felt a gust of air on her legs. The man was drawing up her skirts.

“Stop fighting and listen.” He punctuated each word with a resounding slap, and even through her drawers, she felt the sting.

It only made her struggle harder.

“Help,” she screamed.

“I am helping you,” he roared, unleashing a volley of smacks on her poor bottom.


Rocky Mountain Wild

Here’s Rocky Mountain Wild‘s excerpt and the blurb! Can’t wait for you to meet Calum!


Inspiration for Calum provided by Lasse Matberg

The young woman sat on Calum’s lap, her hair falling down her back in a thick, dark mass. Pale and slight, with wide blue eyes, she was a lovely creature, though at the moment she wore a little pout.

Taller and larger than most men, Calum MacDonnell had no trouble balancing her slender body on his broad thighs. One arm supported her, while the other dipped into a bowl of stew.

“Open,” Calum said, holding the spoon to her mouth. She whimpered a little in humiliation, but did as he said. “Good lass.”

Her brow wrinkled as she accepted the food into her mouth. “I don’t need you to feed me,” she said once she had swallowed. “I’m not a baby; I’m two and twenty. I can take care of myself.”

He just clucked at her and held up another spoonful to her lips. “That argument would’ve worked before you decided to disappear down another trail, even after you agreed you’d follow me straight home. It’s a lot of work, playing in the snow, and you weren’t to run off without me. You might fall and break a bone, and then were would we be?”

“I was perfectly fine. I’m much stronger now.”

“We don’t want you to overdo it,” he said. “You’re much too thin to be flitting about in the wild on your own. My wee bird needs to eat.”

She took the next spoonful obediently, then whined, “But Calum…”

“Hush, Phoebe. As it is, you’re getting spanked and plugged tonight. Keep it up and you’ll get another clyster. Disobedient lassies need their bottoms cleaned out to settle them.”

She pouted, but let him continue feedincabing her, not even protesting when a bit dribbled down her chin and he mopped it up with a cloth.

“That’s it, wee one,” he crooned. “Just a few more bites before I put you over my knee for your punishment. And where do naughty Phoebes get punished?”

The beautiful lass squirmed in his lap. “My bottom.”

“That’s right. Inside and outside their bare bums.” He held the cup of milk for her to take a sip before picking up the spoon again. “Now if you finish your dinner like a good lass, after I plug your cheeks and turn them pink, I’ll make sure to take care of you.”

Click here to read more…



Phoebe Wilson has had a hard life. On her own from a young age, and cursed with a club foot, she answers an ad to work for Scottish homesteader Calum MacDonnell, thinking to prove herself with work. What she doesn’t expect is a fierce mountain man, lonely and wild, with a soft side. Even more surprising is when he takes it on himself to protect her from her past, and care for her. Calum insists on treating her like a little child, feeding and bathing her and coddling her like a little girl, and disciplining her when she puts herself in harm’s way.

But as winter comes, the threat from Phoebe’s past closes in and Calum’s own demons surface. Can their love for each other win in the end? Is Phoebe strong enough to let Calum care for her as his wee one?

*** Click here to read more…

Rocky Mountain Wild

#WIPitup Wednesday “Is this what you need?”



Here’s an excerpt from Rocky Mountain Rogue, my new release that’s getting some fabulous reviews. I got the idea for the book from a real mail order bride’s story–the poor lady went out to meet her gentleman correspondent, and her coach was robbed on the way. When she arrived to meet her groom, she realized he was one of the robbers!

I took the premise of this true story and ran with it, turning the main players into a sassy schoolmarm from Boston and a roguish bad boy who’s fighting for his family, and adding a vicious villain, a quirt (a type of whip), and sexy time!

And spankings, of course. Lots and lots of spankings. Enjoy!


“Is this what you need? Little city girl comes to the wild for a good hard lay.” His cock pressed into her back as hands roamed over her body, dominating, claiming.

“Yes,” Susannah almost cried with need. Her knees went weak and without the wall and Jesse’s grip, she would’ve fallen to his feet.

“I’m a cowboy, ma’am. I know how to catch fillies.” He slapped her right butt cheek again. “And break them.”

“Yes,” she panted. “Break me.” Whipping her around, he bent his head to her breasts. “These are mine. You ever strut them in front of a man, I’ll drag you back by your hair and whip you so hard you won’t sit for a week.”

“Yes, yes,” she panted, burying her hands in his hair, pulling him to her chest. With a growl, he grabbed her wrists and pinned them against the wall. Helpless, she arched her back and tried to rub herself against him instead.

His green eyes roamed over her face. “I want you, Susannah. God, I want you.” His hands left her wrists and cupped her bottom, lifting her. “I want to rip you apart and put you back together again.” 




Rocky Mountain Rogue

“One of the best plot-driven romances I have ever read!” — Blushing Butterfly Book Reviews

“How can you go wrong with a Lee Savino book?”

“Another fabulous page turner”

“Reformed rogues make the best husbands”

“A sassy mouthed prim lady with a temper” meets “a gun-slinging spanko with a quirt”

Click here to read more


#WIPitup Rocky Mountain Rogue: “On Your Knees”

Rocky Mountain Rogue

“On your knees,” he said softly, and freed himself from his trousers.

She knelt, a supplicant come to the temple to worship her god. Her hands stroked his cock, sliding over the heated flesh while she looked to him for guidance. Her body buzzed with desire. He let her fingers slide over him for a moment, and then brushed them aside to grip his cock. She let her hands drop.

“You want this?”
On her knees, his rod was right at her face. She kept her head back to look into his eyes.  “Yes.”

“Truly?” His eyebrow mocked her. His hand slid up and down. “You want me to keep you? To train you to please me?”

There was nothing in her mind but need. Desire took over, causing her breasts to swell and her nipples to harden into points. Watching him fist his own cock, she licked her lips. “Yes, Jesse. Please.”

“You belong to me. Say it.”

“I belong to you.”

He lowered his cock closer to her face, his breath coming fast and hard. “Kiss it.”

With a little sigh, Susannah pressed her lips against him, feeling the wet drop on her lips. He pulled away before she could lap at the dew collected there, and she licked her lips again instead, her big blue eyes gazing up at him, begging for more.

His eyes narrowed. “Undo your dress.” His stern expression waited while she struggled to obey, twisting her arms behind her. “Draw it down. Pull out your breasts.”

She did so, laying her breasts on top of her loosened garments like an offering. Never had she felt such an intense ache, a desperate desire to please someone. He nodded his approval and she felt herself melt. “Whenever you pleasure me on your knees, you will bare yourself to me.”

He moved away from her then, circling her while she remained on her knees, breasts heaving with her breath. Even out here in the wild, kneeling in the middle of a field with the trees and sky around her, she had no thought for how exposed she was. Did she please him?

His voice cracked like a whip. “Pinch your nipples. Hurt yourself for me.”

She did so, amazed at how the short pain shot straight to her secret places. Arousal flooded through her, washing any trace of hesitation away. There was no thought, no Susannah, just pure need and wanting. He stopped in front of her again and she looked up at him with half lidded eyes, her breath coming in short pants. The side of his lip curled up.

He stepped forward and presented his cock to her lips. “You may please me.”


*** Check it out! ***

On her way to marry a man she’s never met, Susannah’s stagecoach is robbed by a tall, dark-haired outlaw.  When she tries to stop him, her struggles only lead to a humiliating bare-bottom spanking at his hands. Eventually, he lets her go, but she can’t stop thinking of him, even dreaming about him right up to her wedding day.

In fact, her new groom looks a lot like the black-haired rogue…

Jesse Oberon Wilder made a bet with his brother that he could marry by summer. That gives him enough time to carry out his plan to destroy the man who’s threatened his family. But when his plans lead him to rob his mail order bride’s stagecoach, he realizes that not everything can be solved by riding a horse or shooting a gun.

Will Jesse’s plans of revenge cost him the woman of his dreams?  Or can true love tame a rogue?

This stand-alone book is set in the 1860s Wild West and contains domestic discipline scenes, including over-the-knee spankings with a hand and a quirt.

The Rocky Mountain Bride Series follows the lives of mail order brides and the strong frontier men who take them in hand.