I am uber-excited about sharing Travis and Cara’s story.

I don’t have a release date yet, or an official blurb, but I have a cover!!!

Travis is a computer geek, Cara’s an artist. The couple explore objectification, which may not sound too extreme at first glance, but I’ve seen couples take it much farther than I’d want to go. These two keep it mostly sane, but the temptation is there, to see how far they can travel down the rabbit hole.

If you’ve read my earlier books, you’ll note two major differences in this one. My previous works dealt with experienced players, but Cara will learn about world of BDSM from Travis. More substantially, Cara is not a submissive, and there’s very little D/s — only what’s needed in a scene to integrate the objectification scenarios Travis builds.

Here’s the warning you’ll eventually see below the blurb. If watersports are a major squick for you, don’t let it scare you too bad, as it’s only in one scene, and is addressed as more curiosity than kink.

Warning: This title contains graphic language, consensual BDSM, extreme objectification, bondage, watersports, chemical play, fisting, temporary body modification with saline injections, and the use of toys including clamps, canes, plugs, paddles, whips, floggers, and zip-ties.

In a nutshell, there’s a decent amount of S&M — more than most books, but not to the levels in my previous works. We see very little D/s between our couple, though we see a good bit from secondary characters.

I’ll repost this short teaser excerpt, as I think it gives a good introduction to Travis and Cara.

“Do you remember when I told you to say yellow if you needed me to realize you couldn’t breathe, or wanted me to understand something wasn’t working for you?”

She looked up, not sure where he was going, and nodded cautiously.

“Here’s one of my secrets. I like it when a girl begs me to stop, but I can keep going. I like it when I can hurt her a little, but I don’t wish to cause pain she’s not okay with, and it wouldn’t be good for either of us if she really wanted me to back off. So we agree to a word that’ll mean stop, and then she can say no and stop and please don’t all she wants, and we can pretend I’m forcing her. I’m telling you this because I think you’d like it, too.”

“What word?” Her gaze returned to the comforter, and she had to concentrate to sit still. She found herself intrigued, but mortified at her body’s reaction.

“It’s your word; you get to choose. It shouldn’t be something we’d normally say during sex, and it’s better if you find one with special meaning, something personal.”

She raised her head again, needing to see his face, but wanting to look at the comforter. “If yellow meant slow down and check in, I’m betting red is used for something more serious, right?”

He nodded and she said, “Okay then. Quinacridone. That’s my stop word.”

His face broke into a lopsided smile, as if relieved she was going along with this. “Quinacridone. That’s a new one. What does it mean?”

“It’s a red pigment.” She suddenly felt shy again and looked away. “It’s used in higher quality paints, sometimes.”

He chuckled, a happy laugh. “Do you have a word you’d like to use for yellow?”

Still averting her eyes, she shook her head and focused once more on her big toe. “No, yellow’s fine.”

His fingers touched under her chin, gently lifting her face. “I want to spank you, Cara. I want to put you over my lap and spank you with my hand, and if you like it enough, maybe with a paddle, too. Then I want to play with your asshole with my fingers, get you ready for me before I fuck you there. If you say quinacridone I’ll stop and hold you and do everything I can to make you okay. If you say yellow I’ll back off, see what needs adjustment, and we’ll carry on.” He leaned forward; kissed her forehead. “If you tell me to stop, or say no, or ask me not to do something, or call me a fucking bastard, I’ll keep going.”

He tilted his head and seemed to study her a few seconds before asking, “Sound like something you want to do?”

“Spank me? Like a kid?”

“No.” He shook his head. “Not like a kid. This isn’t punishment; it’s for fun. I’ll make it good for you, and if you don’t like it, we’ll stop.”

The idea didn’t sound so bad, but the reality? To drape herself across his lap, presenting her ass for a spanking? Could she? She’d rather not have to submit to it, which was the great thing about most of the assholes she screwed — they did what they wanted, and didn’t make her talk about it.
She felt so vulnerable when he made her look at him. His finger was still under her chin, and she aimed her eyeballs down in an attempt to escape his gaze.

He moved his hand, letting her have control of her face again, and said, “I won’t make you ask for it, but I need to hear what you’ll say if you want me to stop.”

Her eyes were focused on the navy comforter, seeing the patterns in the soft brushed microfiber that felt almost like baby fine deerskin. “Quinacridone.”

“Okay. Over my lap then Cara Mia, you can leave the robe on if you like.”

He readjusted until he was sitting with his back against the headboard and his legs straight out. Cara crawled to him, as it seemed the easiest way to get there, but it felt odd, and she was a little surprised to discover it was turning her on. She draped herself over his lap, leaving her robe on.

A weight rested on her ass — no heat, just a weight — his hand over the robe.
“I like starting with clothes sometimes; it’s fun to reveal what’s underneath. Kind of like unwrapping a present.”

His hand smoothed its way down her bottom, to her thigh, and she felt the warmth of his palm as it went lower than the robe and they were skin on skin. His fingers were silky soft as he drew them back up, pushing the fabric up her legs.

She felt herself grow wet, wanted to wiggle her ass on his lap, but she held oh-so-still, barely breathing. This was a brand new experience and her body loved it, but her mind was reeling. His hand was at the top of her left thigh now, slowly sliding its way up, and the cooler air brushed her skin as he pushed the robe higher, and higher.