Love is
in the Air Blog Hop & Giveaway
“Kallypso delves into their
minds deeper than ever before and I loved how much like REAL people her characters
are. They are complex. They mess up. Sometimes they don't make sense, just like
true human beings. I love how that, as an Indie author, Kallypso strives to
give us as near-perfect a story as possible. And she succeeds!” (from one of hundreds of 5-star
Amazon reviews for Somebody’s Angel)
Welcome to
all who are following the annual Love is in the Air blog hop at Under the
Covers. I’m Kallypso Masters and I write the Rescue Me series, an ongoing saga
about a family of choice consisting primarily military men and women and their
friends struggling to overcome deep wounds from both combat and life. In a
saga, characters never really resolve all their issues and will come back as
secondary characters in a subplot in another book to work on their issues, even
long after their Happily Ever After.
That’s what
happened with the couple from Nobody’s
Angel (book 2). It took an epic-sized novel—Somebody’s Angel (book 5)—and the
entire Masters at Arms Club family to get at what has been buried beneath the
surface for Marc his entire life. Angelina’s insecurities have resurfaced, as
well, despite having made some progress in the previous few months. We all know
how that goes—you don’t lose self-image insecurities just because someone
starts to make you believe you’re beautiful.
But for this
hop, I thought a romantic scene might give you some ideas for your own
Valentine’s Day rendezvous. This scene happens earlier in the book before
things hit rock bottom for their relationship.
It’s New
Year’s weekend and they’re on a visit to Marc’s family ski resort. He has been
delivered some news earlier this evening that has sent Marc into a tailspin. After
running from the one person who can complete him (running is one of his
defenses), he comes back to her ready to employ another of his emotional
defense mechanisms—distract the lady with kink and sex and she won’t want to discuss
important issues. Well, at this stage in the story, that tactic still works for
him.
So who’s up
for a little food play with my favorite Italian-American chef and her native
Italian lover? (I must have been hungry when I wrote this book because there’s
also a hot food-play harem scene later between Adam and Karla. I actually go
inside the heads of eight of the beloved characters in the series as each couple
continues its own journey in the saga.)
Excerpt from Somebody’s Angel
What was he running from this time? Was it what Melissa had
said? He didn't seem to give any credence to her claim. Then what was it?
Tonight Marc had started to open up to her, only to pull the mask back in place
and run from her.
Tired of shivering, she tossed the bed covering back and
went to the thermostat near the closet to adjust the dial. Soon the hum of the
heater drowned out the deadly silence.
Angelina heard the lock on the door behind her whirr to life,
and her heart tripped a beat. Marc!
Relief flooded her as she turned to watch him kick the door open with his foot while
struggling with a server’s tray laden with two room-service covers. The only
light in the room came from the bathroom. His gaze homed in on the empty bed
first, and then he scanned the room until he found her standing naked by the
closet.
Angelina rushed to hold the door open and noticed the
bottles of club soda and the familiar rectangular one of amaretto—the makings
for an Italian tickler, her favorite cocktail. Maybe she was in store for an
Italian tickler of another sort tonight, too.
He smiled at her, and for a moment, the world righted
itself. Her spirits lifted.
“I raided the kitchen.”
Her stomach growled at the mention of food, even though she
couldn’t smell anything from the tray he set on the bed.
“I’d planned to order you to strip first, but I see you’ve
taken care of that already.”
What happened to alter Marc’s mood since he’d gone
downstairs a couple of hours ago? Who cared? He was back with her. She walked
into his embrace, loving the feel of her cheek against his shirt and his warm
chest.
“I missed you, Marc.”
“I wasn’t gone long enough to miss, was I?”
Maybe not in chronological time, but she felt as if he’d
been light years away. “You scared me. I didn’t know if you’d come back at all
tonight.”
He grasped her upper arms and held her away, searching her
face. “I’m sorry about earlier.”
She thought he might explain what that was all about, but he
didn’t.
“It’s too late to take you out for dinner, but I’m going to
make sure my girl is fed at least.” He pulled away and gazed down at her. “Wait
here.”
He was leaving her again already? She stifled a groan, watching
as he disappeared into the bathroom, returning with several fluffy white
towels. He spread them over the pillows and the center of the bed and went to
the bar to retrieve the ice bucket.
“Don’t move. I’ll be right back.”
“Yes, Sir.”
He set the latch on the door to keep it from locking
automatically and carried the bucket out for ice. Soon he returned to the room
and placed the bottle of club soda in the ice bucket on the bedside stand. Why
didn’t he just put it in the refrigerator?
He turned to her again.
“Lie in the center of the bed. On your back.”
A mixture of excitement and disappointment warred within
her, but when he walked to the closet to retrieve some things from his toy bag,
excitement won out. She crawled onto the bed and assumed the position he’d
requested. Her Sir was back in control and taking care of her. Everything would
be okay. Later, they could deal with whatever had happened earlier. Right now,
it was Marc and Angelina and the rest of the world could go to…
When he brought the cuffs with chains toward her, she
quirked a brow. “How can I eat if I’m in chains?”
“That’s for me to worry about. Tell me your safeword.”
“Red.” Her heart pounded as their oh-so-familiar Safe, Sane,
and Consensual dance began. But why would
she need a safeword to eat?
“Your caution or slow-down word?”
Angelina swallowed hard to get past the pulse beating wildly
in her throat. “Yellow.”
“Good girl. Now, I want silence unless you need to use one
of your words or I ask a direct question.” He reached his hand out to her.
“Give me your wrist.”
She obeyed, and within minutes he’d restrained both to the
headboard posts. She always loved this position, because it lifted her girls to
where they looked almost perky. Marc tweaked one nipple, and it swelled to
life. He liked this position, too.
Preparing to get into the right headspace, she lowered her
gaze to her feet only to be surprised when he cuffed the left one and chained
it to the post on the footboard. Her stomach growled, and she looked up at him.
“Is there even going to be any food tonight?”
He gave her a stern look, and she remembered her place,
averting her gaze.
He surprised her by responding. “My girl has been known to
have a problem lying still when I play with her, so I’m just ensuring there
won’t be any limbs flying when she gets ticklish.”
When, not if. So he was going to tickle her? Apparently,
she’d underestimated how many Italian ticklers she’d be having. What did he
have planned for tonight?
She watched with delight as he unscrewed the cap on the
amaretto, poured a splash into a highball glass, and added a healthy amount of
mixer. No ice. She wouldn’t get a buzz off that small amount of liquor, but he
never let her drink much while playing. She smelled wine on his breath when
he’d held her but had never known him to over-imbibe. The man was a bit of a
control freak.
After pouring a similarly weak drink for himself, he sat on
the edge of the bed, raised his glass and said, “Alla mia bellissima ragazza.”
Her heart warmed at his words—his very beautiful girl. He took
a sip, nodded his approval before setting his glass on the nightstand, placing a
straw in the other glass, and putting it to her lips for her to taste. The
bubbles in the club soda went straight to her nose.
She giggled but remembered not to speak as she sipped.
He placed her glass beside his and lifted a cover off one of
the plates. Thin slices of prosciutto had been rolled around chunks of
cantaloupe, one of her favorite appetizers. Beside them was a medium-sized
zucchini, its stem removed.
“Open for me, pet.”
Marc fed her half a dozen pieces of the wrapped cantaloupe
and slowly took the edge off her hunger. He turned his attention to the tray once
more and lifted the other lid off a plate of at least a dozen plump strawberries.
He held one to her mouth. "Bite it in half."
She did so and couldn't believe how fresh it tasted. Where
had they found such flavorful berries this time of year? Well, she supposed no
amenity was too good for the guests of a four-star resort.
Marc took the uneaten part of the berry and rubbed it over her
lips, coating them in the cool juice. He bent to kiss her, flicking his tongue
along her mouth as he lapped up the sweetness. She swallowed the bite of berry before
opening her mouth to him and letting him plunge his warm tongue inside.
Breathing hard, he backed off. "Not so fast, pet. I
want to savor our time tonight."
Angelina groaned. She'd been anticipating making love with
Marc for days. Now he wanted her to wait even longer?
Marc took another berry from the plate. "Bite."
She followed his orders. At least she was getting dinner in
bed.
“Ack!” She shrieked, jerking away as much as she could when
he lowered the remaining half berry to her nipple and rubbed. The coldness of
the fruit caused the peak to bunch and swell. He repeated the motion with her
other nip and then cupped her heavy girls in his hands as he lifted one to meet
his descending mouth. He flicked his tongue against the sensitive tip, and she
felt it grow even larger.
Electricity zinged to her pussy and clit, and she bucked her
hips toward him. Marc chuckled but ignored her lower half as he continued to
lave her nipples long after the strawberry juice was gone. He bit her other
nipple, and she bucked again. How much longer would he make her wait?
Wait for what? Him—or the food?
She wanted both. Needed
both.
“Does my girl want more of her tickler?”
Which tickler did he mean? Oh, heck, she was ready for
either—or both. “Yes, Sir.”
He picked up the glass with the straw, and she was
momentarily disappointed; then he put his mouth to the straw and sucked in.
Using his finger to plug the end when he removed it from his mouth, he brought
the straw toward her. She opened her mouth and nearly screamed when he released
his finger to allow the cold drink to dribble onto her breast.
“Mio Dio! That’s
cold!”
The fizz from the soda made her skin tingle. Her nipple
tightened again.
“You weren’t given permission to speak. We’ll have to work
on discipline later. But here, let me warm you up.”
Mio Dio, her face
grew flushed as he lowered his mouth to her so his tongue could lap up the
drink. She closed her eyes and gave herself over to the sensations as the
warmth of his tongue and the fizziness of the drink sent electrical pulses to
her clit. She hissed when more soda water dripped onto the other nipple and
moaned as he sucked her hard peak into his mouth.
She reached for him, but the restraints kept her from
touching him. She wanted him to hurry, touch her everywhere, and enter her
pussy hard and fast, but he continued to suck on and lick her nipples.
Please, Sir. More!
He chuckled and withdrew. Had she actually spoken aloud or
was he just that in tune with her thoughts? Oh, no! Maybe he’d gotten a
diabolical thought about where else he could put that fizzy drink. He sat up,
grinned at her, and filled the straw once more. Never removing his gaze from
hers, he brought the filled straw toward her. A drop splashed on her belly, but
he didn’t stop there. She tried to close her legs, but they wouldn’t budge.
Do. Not. Tell. Him. No. Trying to maintain her
composure, her discipline, she closed her eyes and waited.
“Look at me.”
She wrinkled her brow but complied.
“You are not to come without permission.”
She groaned. He only said that when he intended to make her
wait a very long time to reach her climax. The bastard.
She watched as he reached for the bottle of club soda and
poured a liberal amount over her. The cold liquid fizzed over her labia and
clit hood, awakening her senses.
“Dio!” She
remembered her discipline but heard the bed groan as she fought the restraints.
Thank God she’d adjusted the thermostat in the room. She hadn’t expected to be
doused in chilled club soda tonight.
Before all of the bubbles had burst, Marc crawled onto the
bed, snagged a pillow from under her left arm, and ordered her to lift her
hips. He crouched down and used his cold fingers to open her lower lips.
“Bellissima.”
For him, she did feel beautiful. Angelina watched as he bent
to her shaved mound, and his tongue lapped at any remaining liquid on her skin.
Just when she’d begun to warm up, he reached for the capped bottle lying on the
bed beside him and unscrewed the top. She momentarily clenched her eyes shut
until she remembered his instructions, and with a deep breath, she opened her eyes,
met his gaze, and waited.
He grinned, his teeth white against his olive skin, and she
felt him spread her labia open a half second before he poured the soda directly
onto her clit.
Don’t scream this
time.
She fought to maintain control but melted as he lowered his
mouth and licked the fizzy liquid from the folds of her sex. He didn’t touch
her clit but teased the sides of the hood until she was ready to beg for mercy.
Don’t beg. Wait.
She fought for self-discipline—but she wanted to come. Now!
Marc rammed two fingers inside her pussy, and she clenched
her hands, fighting for control.
“So wet for me. Perhaps my girl’s pussy needs to be fed,
too.”
Her muscles tightened around his fingers in anticipation.
She hadn’t been asked a question, but she hoped her eyes expressed her need to
be filled with whatever he wanted to ram inside her.
Please let it be his
penis.
She heard the familiar foil wrapper.
Yes, yes, yes!
He lowered his face to her pussy once more and took her clit
between his teeth, holding it while he reached up and tweaked her nipple. His
hand left her. She gave in to the sensations of his mouth on her when something
cold pressed against her opening.
She glanced at the tray. What happened to the zucchini?
He wouldn’t.
Oh, but he would. He shoved the chilled vegetable inside
her, filling her, stretching her.
“Mmmph.” She couldn’t call him all the names she wanted.
Discipline. She’d already earned some kind of funishment for speaking before and didn’t want to turn it into outright
punishment, but Gesù, that thing was
cold!
Then his warm mouth was on her clit again, and the
discomfort receded as she felt the pressure of an orgasm rising. He pulled the
zucchini out and rammed it back in. While the veggie was warming up, she really
wanted his hot cock inside her. When was he going to give her what she needed?
His mouth left her sensitive bundle of nerves before she
exploded. “Does my girl need to come?”
Even though she was permitted to speak, she could only nod
vigorously and whimper.
“Beg me for it.”
“Please, Sir. Please fill me with your cock. Bring me
release. I’ll be your good girl. I’ll do anything you ask. Just please, please let me come.”
He groaned as if in pain, pulled out the zucchini and tossed
it into the wastebasket, and crawled over her leg to stand beside the bed,
never taking his eyes off her as he hurriedly removed his dress pants and black
boxer briefs. His cock stood proudly erect, and her pussy muscles clenched in
anticipation. He quickly donned a condom.
“I think you’ll be more comfortable without these.” He
released the cuffs from her ankles, letting the chains clank as the cuffs hit
the floor at the foot of the bed.
She expected him to release the wrist cuffs as well, but he
climbed back onto the bed and stretched out on top of her. His body weight
pressed her into the mattress and stretched her arms. “Wiggle your fingers.”
She did as he ordered. “Any numbness?” She shook her head no. “Speak loudly if
you need me to remove or loosen them now, because I’m going to lose my mind as
I drive my cock into your warm, tight pussy, and you may need to capture my
attention.”
Her breath hitched in anticipation of the visual his words
created. “No, Sir. I’m ready, waiting.”
Without further warning, he took his cock in hand and rubbed
it against her cleft. “So wet.” He pressed inside, retreated slightly, and
pushed farther into her, filling the emptiness. His eyes never left hers.
Pulling out a third time, he grew steely-eyed before ramming himself into her
completely.
“Oh, yes!”
“Mine.”
She wasn’t sure if he was claiming her or her pussy, but
both were his for the taking. “Yours, Sir.”
A pained look crossed his face. He grimaced and rammed his
cock into her again and again. She wanted to reach up and touch his face,
smooth away the creases in his brow, reassure him she’d always be his, but when
he reached down and pressed his finger against her clit, her focus shifted
instantly.
“Please, Sir. May I come?”
“Yes, pet. Come for me.”
She closed her eyes, lost in the sensations. If her complete
and utter surrender didn’t convince him she was his, nothing would.
Series Reading Order,
Free Intro, and Buy Links
If you
haven’t begun the Rescue Me series, start with the free introduction, Masters at
Arms, and meet the first three heroes in the series—Adam, Damián, and Marc.
Or go straight to the combo of the first two books (Masters at Arms & Nobody’s Angel) for only 99 cents. From there, it’s Nobody’s
Hero (#3), Nobody’s Perfect (#4),
and Somebody’s Angel (#5). For buy
links to ALL of these books, click Books by Kallypso Masters But here are the quick links to Somebody’s
Angel, the latest in the ongoing series, available at all of these
booksellers:
Love is in the Air
Giveaway
Well, since
this is a scene involving food, I’m going to give away a culinary bondage apron
or t-shirt. The apron comes in one size and the t-shirts in sizes from Small to
4XL. Good luck! Just fill out the rafflecopter below and comment to enter. International entries welcome!
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