TITLE : DIRTY BAD WRONG
AUTHOR : JADE WEST
GENRE ; BDSM , EROTICA ,ROMANCE
They call him Masque.
I call him God.
The man I want to consume me, own me,
break me and corrupt me.
Yet I've never seen his face.
His body ripples like an Adonis, sculpted in steel and
dripping in sin. His flesh is inked with the mark of the
chimera - one body, two very different halves.
He plays hard.
He plays rough.
He has no limits.
He's so fucking dirty bad wrong.
But I love him for it.
Lydia Marsh is always the strong one. The girl who never breaks, and sure as hell never cries. She's got it all - the perfect little life in cosy suburbia, with her perfectly nice boyfriend, and their perfectly sufficient sex life. She's even got her perfect little career plan all wrapped up at Trial Run Software Group.
But when it all falls apart, and Lydia's pretty, green eyes are fixed on a brutally sexual stranger - the man they call Masque - she comes to suspect that being strong isn't all it's cracked up to be.
For now Lydia wants something she's never wanted before...
And she wants Masque to give it to her.
**Warning - this novel contains graphic sex, and hardcore elements of BDSM. There are scenes of violence (consensual) as well as sexual practices some readers may find offensive.
If you aren't turned on by dirty bad wrong sex then please walk on by. Thank you.***
The chains above rattle as I jerk in my bonds. My legs quiver, knees trembling, adrenaline pumping. He circles me. I feel his footfalls. Heavy, purposeful. I can smell him, too. He smells of sex, and sweat, and musk. He smells of sin. He smells so damn dirty bad wrong. The tap, tap, tap of the cane against my thighs, so gently. I take a breath. The cane comes to rest, pressing against my skin, and he’s at my side, his lips at my ear. “Steady,” he breathes and his warm breath sends tingles down my neck. He trails a hand up my ribs, and my body flinches. Fight or flight. In my chains I can do neither. And I don’t want to. The glowing heat between my legs gives testament to one simple truth. I want him... the release he delivers through pain... the silky caress of the abyss beyond fear. I want him to break me. I want him to hurt me. I want him to own me. And then I want him to love me. “Tell me what you need, Lydia.” I gasp. His savage hand is on my breast. Gripping, twisting, hurting. My nipples come alive, begging for punishment, and I roll into his touch. It feels so fucking good. I hear my own ragged breathing, the incoherent murmurs coming from my mouth. He kicks my feet further apart, spreading me wide. I struggle to keep my balance, but the cuffs pull tight against the chains, taking my weight. Another tap of the cane on my stomach, harder this time, and then his fingers, teasing me open, grazing my clit. Fuck. Two fingers hook inside, pushing in deep. I hear how wet I sound. He groans his approval. My words catch in my throat, but I force them out. “Pain... I want pain...” I gasp again as his two fingers lift me onto my toes. “I did not ask you what you wanted, I asked you what you needed.” “Pain … please, I need pain …” He kisses my neck, and I’m lost in him, swimming in his darkness. “I’m going to hurt you now, Lydia Marsh. I’m going to mark you, and break you, and own you... and then I’m going to make you cum so hard you’ll scream my name. Will I tell you what I need? I need to see you cry, Lydia. You’re so fucking beautiful when you cry.” I screw my eyes shut under the blindfold and take a deep breath. I’m ready.