Bondage and Bliss — Keta Diablo

About Chasing Love

Maddy has searched for love and acceptance her entire life. She finds more than she bargains for after picking up a man in a bar while visiting her aunt in Iowa.



About His Alone

When Cleo met Elliott, the maestro of Doms, eight months ago, he laid out the rules - no questions, no whining, and no ties. The lines blurred somewhere along the line and Cleo crossed them. Now she's in over her head with feelings for the beautiful man. For her own sanity, she must end their weekly sessions and eat her heart in the process. But her Dom has problems of his own. Has he stepped over the same hazy boundaries?



About Guilty Pleasures

Zoe and Michael's marriage is in deep trouble. Michael works late every night and Zoe struggles through endless of hours of loneliness and need. Desperate for attention, she joins a chat room called Tie Me Up and meets the charming, seductive Master D.



Excerpt from His Alone:

Inhibition and hang-ups are words that don't exist in Elliott's personal dictionary, and yet, he's a man of the earth in his heart, kind and caring. He knows his body like a well-heeled road map and knows mine even better. After several visits to his condo, he's stripped me of all reservations, not to mention my clothing.

He knows all the sweet spots of a woman's body, the internal nerves and tissue that respond to another's touch. It's a double-edged sword with the man; he enthralls me physically and enslaves my soul on a mental level.

“Come in, Cleo,” he calls out from inside.

I turn the knob and ease the door open. The familiar scents of candles spiral up my nose, jasmine and maybe patchouli. Elliott has a penchant for candles and scented body oils. I see him sitting on the leather sofa when I enter the great room. His collar length hair is as dark as midnight, his features urbane and classical. This, of course, adds to his allure. I wonder if I'd be so taken with him if he didn't look like Adonis, but rather resembled a pock-marked, flabby has-been. Chills run down my spine when I see him.

His aquamarine eyes catch mine. “You're late.” A short pause ensures. “Come here.”

Walking toward him, I realize my legs have turned to jelly. I recognize the look in those sinful eyes. It means he'll take-me-to-the-brink-and-back tonight. A lump has formed in my throat. I hope my voice can get past it. “Forgive me, Sir.”

He rises from the sofa and looks me over head to toe, his voice as soft as an ocean breeze. “You look exquisite.” His breaths are shallow, his lips parted as he extends his scrutiny. “But I want your clothes off, everything, and be quick about it.”

Without hesitation, I begin to unbutton the pearls of my blouse.

“Not here, Cleo, in my bedroom.”

I wait until he turns from me and follow on his heels. The master bedchamber is massive and luxurious, a soft palette of earthy tones -- buttercup gold, cream and pale tan.

Standing beside the bed, I'm aware of his quick intake of breath when the blouse leaves my shoulders and another when the skirt slides from my hips. The subtle sound of his appreciation calms me, bolsters my confidence. Elliott is not immune to the sight of my naked body after all these months, even though he's seen every blemish, pore and cavity. The thought pleases me. My breasts tingle and my nipples pucker while I wait for his order. A series of pre-orgasmic twitches seize me.

He nods toward the floor. “Kneel in front of the bed, face resting on the comforter.”

Instinctively my hands go to the back of my head and I lower myself to the floor.

* * *