Hi! Thanks for stopping by today and a great big thank you to the Decadent Divas for hosting me today!!!
In my latest Novella, Binding Cherry Blossoms, the hero, Ian Hideo Shoji, is a master at the art of Kinbaku—Japanese rope binding. He enjoys both the aesthetic of the practice, and the complete submission of the heroine, Sakura Nakeo. And while Sakura isn’t fully appreciative of the art at first, she comes to love the way Ian makes her look and feel while she is bound and immobile, fully captive to his every sensual whim and demand.
But I know that other women might have different desires…
So read the blurb and excerpt to follow, then leave a comment describing some of your most wicked thoughts. Rope? Handcuffs? Or something totally off the charts. It’s all good when it comes to pleasure.
I have some pretty red mask bracelets and lovely costume masks to give away, along with a couple of copies of Binding Cherry Blossoms to two lucky winners.
Binding Cherry Blossoms
Book 3 in the Red Masks series
Sakura wants to learn the ancient Japanese Tea Ceremony to please her parents. It’s the least she can do since she intends to refuse the marriage they have arranged for her to a man she has never met. Unfortunately, the only person in Charleston, South Carolina, who knows the ceremony is a masked bondage Master at a local BDSM club. He’s willing to teach her in exchange for her complete sexual submission.
When she meets Ian, her chosen fiancé, she has no idea he is her masked Master. By night, Sakura’s submissive side blossoms as she explores the dark realms of sexual release with her Master. By day, she is increasingly drawn to the other man, whose easygoing disposition is starting to win her over to the idea of marriage.
Will Ian be able to bind her broken heart after she learns that he has deceived her?
Reader Advisory: This story has graphic sexual language and scenes—no closed bedroom doors (or other rooms) here!
A Romantica® BDSM erotic romance from Ellora’s Cave
“I don’t want to be your slave. Or your sub. Or whatever else it’s called these days. I just want to know if you would be willing to teach me the Tea Ceremony, since you claim to be a master of the tradition.”
His face took on an expression that made her entire body tremble. If she’d met him by happenstance his mask alone would have been enough to give her pause. It had eyes that were elongated to the point of grotesqueness with brows that frowned so far between they nearly touched the bridge of the nose. It was painted in red, black and blue lines against a stark white background. A jeering face meant to intimidate. When his jaw set to stone beneath it and his mouth turned down in perfect imitation of the eye-slits, he took on the appearance of a samurai of old, a heartless warrior whose only goal was to slay the enemy or die an honorable death in the battle.
He was silent for so long Sakura felt certain she had offended him to the point he would pull out his knife and threaten hara-kiri if she did not take back her words and restore his beleaguered honor.
Or cut her down for the insult.
But this was the modern world and such things just did not happen these days—although he did look as if he would be more than willing to throw her across his lap and punish her accordingly.
So why were her breasts suddenly knotted into peaks and her panties grown damp with the proof of her arousal? Surely she did not want to have any physical relationship with this man. Did she?
“Um…I don’t think this is a good idea after all,” she mumbled, standing to leave. “Forget it. But thank you for your—”
She was brought up short when he grabbed her wrist and pulled her onto his lap…just exactly as she’d anticipated! And while she sputtered and protested and fought to break away, the man was strong enough to plant her firmly on his thighs, the strain of his erection pressing hard against her ass. “Coward,” he whispered rough against her neck. His free hand took a hunk of hair, pulling her head back until it rested upon his shoulder. “I smell your need,” he continued, grinding his hips beneath hers. “I could make you come with a flick of my fingers and you would beg me for more.”
She tried to shake her head, but he held her so tight she could not move a muscle. “N-no. That’s n-not what I want.”
“Prove it.” His hand released her wrist and dropped to slide up the length of her thigh. “Spread your legs and let me touch you. If you do not call me Bakushi and beg me to fuck you I will walk away and pretend this never happened.” Now his hand pressed between her knees, forcing them apart. “But if I am right and you shatter at my touch, you will become my student—in both the Tea Ceremony, and in kinbaku.”
Kinbaku. Bondage. Exactly what she’d sworn she would never do.