
The car pulled to a stop, and she resisted the urge to let herself out. Instead, she snagged the bottle of champagne, figuring Jeremy had already paid for it, so what did it matter, and climbed out as gracefully as possible when the chauffeur opened the door. She thanked him – perhaps a little too profusely, due to the champagne – and made her way to the side door leading into the Manor. The door flew open and Ethan stood there. He nodded to the driver, who got back into his car and left the premises. Alice guessed that Jeremy had settled up his bill beforehand. Or maybe he had an account with the limo firm. It didn’t matter either way – she’d had a delightful journey, thanks to her two favourite men.
Ethan took her free hand and pulled her inside, closing and locking the door behind them before wrapping his arms around her and holding her tight against him. He leant down and kissed her, a long, deep kiss that left her heart pounding and her skin tingling. When they parted, she was wide-eyed.
‘Wow,’ she said. ‘What was that for?’
‘I missed you,’ he said simply. ‘Plus I remembered I hadn’t given you a proper birthday kiss. Did you have a good day?’
‘Better than good. I’ll tell you and Jeremy all about it. Where is he?’
‘Where do you think, sweetheart? In the kitchen, of course.’
You can get your hands on Stately Pleasures here.
Also, don’t forget to head back to Blissekiss and see what other luscious lip to lip action other authors have posted. Yum!



Welcome to the sixth week of Dungeon Crawl. Each Wednesday, writers of BDSM will be sharing snippets from their work, and folks will be crawling round to each of them and enjoying, and hopefully adding lots of cool books to their to be read lists.
Growing up, I looked forward to visiting my grandparents’ Century dairy farm every Sunday. A century farm is a farm that’s been owned, continuously, by the same family for over a hundred years. Mine had raised Holsteins on their land in Malone, New York, for over two hundred plus years. Although Malone is a small, rural town, it’s famous in a way that meant everything to me as a girl. Still does. As a fan of the 
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I wanted Dorian Martin to be believably rich. Not the kind of rich where I’d be like: really? Who can do that? Who can afford that? So I settled for old money. Family money. And just enough of it to have some luxury without testing the limits of my belief.
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