About the Novel: On a beach in Spain, in the Arizona desert, and a busy street in San Francisco, Elena meets the most remarkable men of her life. They spirit her away into mystical and sometimes dangerous realms, teach her truths about herself she never imagined, and bring her breathless sexual ecstasy, only to disappear without a trace. Were they real at all, or just her imagination playing tricks with her sanity?
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Excerpt from Elena's Lovers:
Waking again, he was there, calling himself Pietro. The body of Nikos, the eyes of Jose, the essence of capture, kidnap, abduction in the fierce intent of his movement.
“You’re so scared, my pet,” he said stroking her head. “Such fear, such beautiful fear, how it makes you sweat.” He traced a bead of perspiration down her throat, drawing the wetness all the way to where the neckline of her blue suit hit the button just above her breasts.
“Who are you?” she gasped, with her frightened eyes trying to understand where she’d seen his face before.
“A bandit,” he replied.
Such seductive eyes to lure her on.
“What do you want from me?”
“To fuck you, my pretty dark one.” The scorn on his lips was invitingly evil. He played with her hair, loosening the black unruly curls, so they were falling everywhere around her shoulders. Stroking them as a lover, he wound one lock around a finger and pulled it until it hurt. She was too frightened to cry out. He tugged at it, and tugged again, staring into her eyes, wanting her to commit herself to the pain it caused with some audible protest. But her voice was too fragile to say a word.
“You can hardly wait for it, can you?” he said, with a hand at her mouth, his fingers going inside, caressing her there. “Such lips, such beautiful red lips. As pretty as the ones below.”
Her eyes peered back frightened.
“Do not worry, my sweet, trust me, you will beg me to take you. You will beg.”
He made love to her mouth with his hand, with his fingers that teased the lips and continued until she replied at last, finding their penetration irresistible. A simple “ahhhhhh” resulted.
He nodded his head. “You’re afraid, that’s good. Be afraid. I want your eyes looking terrified, your heart beating so it will burst, your body bucking on mine, grasping for me, demanding me. You will command me, I assure you. And I will command you in return.”
“No,” she countered back in a heavy whisper.
“Ah, you lie, little lady of darkness, you lie. Enjoy your fear.”
His hands moved down the neck of her suit, and tugged hard at the fabric. She looked to see dirt smudges on the white collar, and the glint of polished steel in his hand. The knife cut quick, white buttons flying away. The jacket open, her breasts encased in white lace, in their state of recline against her chest moved in and out in an uneasy rhythm with the uneasiness of her breath. The bandit, Pietro, ran his thick hands over her flesh.
“Such pretty tits,” he murmured, drawing the lace down, the swell of skin coming close to popping free. Tugging harder one nipple popped loose. “Ah, my satisfaction.” He grabbed the whole orb in his hand and squeezed so hard she winced and let out a tiny shriek.
“If you speak, I’ll gag you; you say one blessed thing to me; you try to protest once, because I know what you want. Look at you!” He drew back and stared at her.
“You’re quivering so. You’re so turned on, you’re ready to cum right here, right now, with just the feel of your skin to skin inside your legs.”
Her eyes met his, so hard not to; they charmed her, as did his voice, and hands, and the despicable words that were so true. She wanted to cry the way they abducted her heart.
“You like not being able to talk?” he asked her. “I could stuff your mouth with rags, make you feel even more in my power. But then, that’s not necessary, is it? You’re already creaming in your panties. I can tell, I see the way your thighs move.”
Exposing both breasts, he squeezed them hard, drew the nipples out between his thumb and index fingers, and pinched them so tightly that she whimpered.
“You don’t want me soft, Elena Merino. You want me to fire the flame in your cunt.”
He knew her name. How could that be?
“You want me, Elena Merino,” his voice continued to caress her ears. “You want me here,” he said massaging her breasts, “and here,” a hand dropped to her crotch, “and here,” his fingers moved between her legs. With Elena trying to close them, he forced them wide, angrily.
“You resist, you’ll regret it,” he said.
“You’ll kill me?
“Ah no. I’d rather torture you with the truth, Helena Celina Merino. I’d rather have you my slave. You can never lie to me, no matter how much you want to.”
How did her know her name?
He fondled her cunt to the rhythm of her bucking hips, her body countering everything her words might say.
“Your eyes beg,” he said.
Lifting the edge of her lace stocking, he ran his finger along the edge, then fingered the garter that held it tight. Changing directions, he pushed aside the panties and petted her pubic hair. She watched him as he pulled his prick free of his pants, and then it disappeared, her hips pulled forward to allow his penetration, the erection rammed deep, until she screamed.
“Ah, gentle creature, what a heavenly home for such a hellish business.”
Fucking her as much with his eyes that wouldn’t veer from hers, he rammed her hard, finding as he did that he didn’t have to force her legs wide for long. The resisting limbs yielded, allowing him to go deeper still, until he finished with a cry that battered off the battered ceiling, and echoed in her ears as she drifted away into an unthinking calm. The only agitation in her whole soul was the rising lust within her that would go unanswered. No orgasm, no shivering climax, no cry of satisfaction allowed—just left on the verge, obliged to wait.
Copyright (c) 2014 Lizbeth Dusseau, all rights reserved.
