Kinky Boots by K D Grace
After a sizzling encounter in DEMON
HEELS, a quirky all-night shoe store, with the store’s hot owner, FINN MASTERS,
JILL HART walks away in the most gorgeous boots ever. Her new boots come with
an unexpected bonus, a sexy demon named ELEANOR, who’s looking for a good time.
All she lacks is a body, and Jill’s will do nicely.
Jill quits her dead-end job and, not
knowing what’s come over her stops by the nearest pub intent on doing tequila
shots until she falls off the stool. Instead she does FINN MASTERS in the beer
garden, unwittingly participating in her first ever threesome. The boots were
the bait, the timing was right and Eleanor has new digs. It’s Finn job to
prevent Eleanor’s misbehaving. His failure means he’ll have to ride shotgun and
do damage control until Eleanor moves out at the next full moon.
With Eleanor in residence, Jill’s
bolder, sexier, willing to take risks. But is she a whole new Jill, or is it
just demon courage? And how will Finn feel about her when she’s just plain Jill
again? Will the maddeningly magical ménage make Jill’s dreams come true, or
will it break her heart?
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*****
Excerpt:
There was
a soft knock on the door and Meinrad entered the room with several hanks of
what looked like ordinary rope. He nodded his greeting to Finn, then his gaze
came to rest on Jill, and she felt her entire body blush at his inspection.
‘Turn around,’ he said.
She
obeyed.
He made
some sound low in his throat that could have passed as either approval or not.
Then he placed a large hand on her shoulder and turned her back to face him.
She noticed he wore the Kinky Boots uniform T-shirt stretched tight across his
very broad chest. The shop name was punctuated by the hard pressure of nipples
on muscular pecs. The black jeans he wore rode low on his hips. The wave of
lust that rushed over her was staggering. How had she not noticed how sexy he
was?
Then Finn
moved to stand beside him, and she understood. Even though Meinrad was by far
the larger man, Finn dominated the room. Finn dominated the space. Finn
dominated every second of the last twenty-four hours of her life, as though he
had shoved his way in and pushed everything else out. It did things to her,
that thought, things that were way beyond lust, things that were a lot more
frightening than being possessed by a demon.
He stood
gazing down at her from some neutral distance that made her feel very much
alone, as though the world and everyone in it had receded, leaving her to await
her fate. Eleanor was keeping a low profile. Finn spoke without preamble.
‘Unless something’s hurting you, while Meinrad’s binding you, you’re not to
speak. You’re only to move when he moves you. You’re to do exactly as he says.
You’re to accept what he does to you in total passivity. Is that clear?’
‘Is he
going to fuck me?’ She was embarrassed the minute she said it but it was too
late to take it back.
‘If I
want him to, yes,’ Finn said.
If Finn
wanted him to. Dear God, what was she doing? Suddenly she felt unsteady on her
feet. She didn’t know Meinrad. Not like she knew Finn. And yet the thought of
the big man hammering her with his enormous cock while she was all trussed up
was at least as exciting as it was uncomfortable. The thought that he would do
so only at Finn’s bidding excited her even more.
‘There’ll
be no safe word,’ Finn continued. ‘All you have to do is tell Meinrad to stop.
Or if at any time he thinks you’re not fit to continue, he’ll stop, and that’ll
be that. Are we clear?’
She
nodded. ‘And what about you?’
‘Meinrad’s
acting on my behalf.’ Finn held her in a cool gaze. ‘He’ll do as I say, and so
will you, unless you choose at any point not to play.’ For a long moment he
studied her, as though he might see something, perhaps some flaw, perhaps some
weakness, she didn’t know what. He seemed too far away to tell. She held her
breath. Waiting.
At last
he blinked and stepped back, still holding her gaze. ‘I’ll ask you again, Jill.
Are you sure this is what you want?’
She
nodded, afraid to speak for fear her heart would jump out of her throat. Then
she remembered to breathe again.
Finn said
nothing. He took her hands in his and offered them to Meinrad, who took both
her wrists in one huge palm and tied them across one another in a simple looped
knot from which she could have easily escaped if she’d wanted. Then he led her
to the bed and guided her onto it. There, he secured her hands to the headboard
with several feet of slack, enough to allow him to work around her and at the
same time allow Finn to observe from every angle. A quick glance over her
shoulder revealed Finn had pulled a ladder back chair to the side of the bed
and sat emotionlessly looking on. A quick glance was all she got before Meinrad
settled her into a kneeling position facing the wall with her hands resting on
the headboard.
In the
beginning, it felt as though she were being decorated with rope; that’s the
best way Jill could describe what Meinrad was doing to her. The rope was softer
than she expected it to be and not unpleasant against her bare skin. The
embarrassment she felt came, flashed hot, then passed as Meinrad looped the
rope and efficiently placed knots above her breasts and then below and then
tightened and cinched his efforts until the harnessing effect squeezed and pinched
and offered up each of her breasts in a tight little nest of rope, like ripe
fruit topped by the cherry-hard rise of her nipples. She’d always had sensitive
breasts and to have them so handled and bound made her whole chest burn with a
need that was replicated in her pussy.
Meinrad
worked in complete silence, his hands moving over her body as though she were
nothing more than the canvas for what he was creating. His touch was exacting
and his rhythm as he worked was hypnotic. Early on she realised that one of his
hands was on her at all times. She remembered basic knot training from her
childhood days in the Girl Guides. Right over left and under and through. Left
over right and under and through. Rope threaded through competent fingers, rope
slid over bare skin, coiling, twisting, binding, descending right over left and
left over right, pressing a column of knots down the length of her spine before
looping around her waist and embracing her belly. Again. And again. Yes, she
was his canvas, and what he created took its shape against her flesh, but his
art didn’t happen without exacting a price from him, and in her peripheral
vision, as he reached around her to secure a knot over her navel, she caught a
glimpse of the erection set tight in his black jeans, and she felt the hitch of
his breathing not quite hidden in the rhythm of right over left, left over
right. As he crossed the ropes around her body, she felt the heat of his breath
whisper along her back next to the weaving and twisting and soft swishing of
the rope along her spine.
With a
tug of the rope every pore of her body responded to the tightening just as he
nestled a knot against the pucker of her bottom and her gasp sounded like a
rush of wind in the stretching silence. Meinrad gave a little pull and her clit
hardened in empathy with the pressure between her buttocks. Then without
warning, he slipped an arm around her and turned her over as he pulled two
strands of rope up between her legs, up tight against her upper thighs like the
elastic of knickers, or a tightly cinched climber’s harness. That done, with a
deft movement of his fingers he secured a knot just over her clit, and this
time she cried out in the strange mix of discomfort and arousal. The whole gape
of her was pressed between the two strands of rope, knotted at fore and aft
like a ship, narrow and thick-hulled.
There was
barely time to get used to the strange rub and pressure between her legs, or
the knot that felt like the tip of a thick finger attempting to breach her
bottom, before Meinrad began to bind her thighs to her lower legs and ankles,
making the position in which she knelt mandatory. With each knot, with each
looping of the rope, he forced her bent legs further apart until she was wide
open, yet at the same time held closed by the ropes between her legs. Bound and
kneeling on the bed, she tried to breathe deeply, tried to fight back the panic
of her own helplessness, something she had never experienced before. She was
dangerously close to hyperventilating, and Eleanor seemed to be completely
absent from the whole event.
‘Shall I
continue?’ Meinrad asked.
*****
K D Grace
believes Freud was right. In the end, it really IS all about sex, well sex and
love. And nobody’s happier about that than she, cuz otherwise, what would she
write about?
When
she’s not writing, K D is veg gardening or walking. She walks her stories, and
she’s serious about it. She and her husband recently walked the Coast to Coast
rout across England
K D has
erotica published with Xcite Books, Harper Collins Mischief Books, Mammoth,
Cleis Press, Black Lace, Erotic Review, Ravenous Romance, Sweetmeats Press and
others.
K D’s
critically acclaimed erotic romance novels include, The Initiation of Ms Holly,
The Pet Shop. Her paranormal erotic novel, Body Temperature and Rising, the
first book of her Lakeland Heatwave trilogy, was listed as honorable mention on
Violet Blue’s Top 12 Sex Books for 2011. Book two, Riding the Ether, is now
available.
K D Grace
also writes hot romance as Grace Marshall.
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