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About the author:
Simone Leigh is English but has lived in Spain for the last few years.
Here, she divides her time between working on her tan, decorating her beautiful villa, writing erotica and swimming naked in her swimming pool.
According to one recent internet troll, she is 'beyond redemption'…..
What inspired you to write your book?
I originally wrote my erotica series 'Buying the Virgin' as a set of short stories intended for no more than a bit of erotic fun. However, I discovered that as time went on, my readers wanted to know more and more about the heroine, 'Charlotte', her lover 'Michael' and her Master 'James.
This led me to write my 'Mastering the Virgin' series, which tells the tale from the POV of Michael and James and a lot more about Charlotte.
And now, Charlotte is marrying Michael. How will James cope with this?
Here is a short sample from the book:
Her Master’s Wedding
James – The Dream
Blinding, shrieking, unholy agony….
My Jade-Eyes screaming….
My Jade weeping….
With a gasp, I rear up, blinking into darkness.
Just a nightmare….
Beside me in the bed, my flame-haired mermaid, safe and sound, sleeps peacefully. Beyond her: Michael, his chest rising and falling in the steady rhythm of sleep.
Everything is fine. Everything is perfectly normal.
But I’m drenched in sweat, my heart hammers behind my ribs and my breathing snatches. And the wound in my thigh throbs a slow, heated beat.
And for the first time, the memory surfaces, how I took the wound: Corby, his gun trained on Charlotte. Michael, flinging himself bodily at the gunman in a desperate bid to prevent the shot. And looking for refuge, finding none, I seize her, shielding her with my body….
Shrieking unbearable agony….
….. And a fall into darkness….
I check the time; it’s hours after midnight; getting late enough almost to be early.
I have no desire to sleep, to risk being dragged back into that nightmare.
Swinging out of bed, I snag a robe and pad downstairs to the kitchen. The renovations are all but complete now and the house is cosy and comfortable. We moved out of the annex we first occupied a couple of weeks ago, but I still haven’t grown used to the feeling of ‘home’ here.
I understand why Charlotte so yearned for a home of her own. Dispossessed for most of her life, with nothing to call her own, this has been Michael’s gift to her, the most precious thing he knew how to give to her, and he has put heart and body and soul….
…. Not to mention a thumping great mortgage….
…. Which he can barely afford….
…. into it.
But for myself too, it has become home. Divorced so many years ago now, from a marriage which I never understood at the time was so unsuccessful. Only when I met my Jade, did I truly understand what it meant to be bonded with another.
And I would do anything for her….
In the kitchen, the homely activities of grinding beans, putting the coffee-maker on the hob, calm me….
…. calm me enough that I begin to think clearly about the memory that has just re-emerged. Everyone has told me how I was injured, that I placed myself in the path of the bullet intended for Charlotte, but it felt like a story or a news report; something that happened to a stranger. A tale from the tv or social media perhaps.
This feels visceral…
And my stomach clenches at the memory of that searing moment before I lost consciousness.
I squeeze my eyes tight-closed, trying to exorcise the thought, then the aroma of the coffee invades my nostrils and reality returns.
I take a couple of large gulps of the brew I deliberately made abrasively strong, then mug in hand, I head outside, inhaling sweet steam as I walk.
The night is an iced hush; early Spring, with the air cold enough to steal my breath to curling clouds and with the kiss of frost on the ground. But a golden wedge of moon casts over the lake far below and the water is full of stars.
And slowly, my heart and breathing slow, and I grow still inside.
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