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About the author:
Daizie Draper is a happily married sex fiend, who loves to write naughty stories that mix the sweetness of chocolate with the bite of leather. She likes sensuality, kink, fruit, impressionistic art, spanking and beauty. She hates big bugs, freedom crushers, injustice, artificial orange and onions. Along with 27 other people in the world, she has never read 50 Shades of Grey.
What inspired you to write your book?
She connects instantly with Logan, a junior at her college, when he spanks her for chucking eggs at his mansion on Halloween at the demand of her sorority, and she has to have him.
Here is a short sample from the book:
Logan backed me into the gallery wall with delicate digits against my spiraling tummy. My heart sped when he drew close to me, his chest stopping a few inches from mine. His left arm arched over me on the wall as he leaned in. Logan’s lips looked so kissable, soft and delicious. My god, was he actually going to plant them on me? Electric sparks simmered beneath my skin, and they fluttered up to my face and down to my unpopped cherry. I felt hotter and hotter as I held his intense gaze, until I was boiling with need.
“Third phase is your choice,” he whispered all husky. His touch at my abdomen drifted down, down, until he was skimming across my thigh, whisking back and forth, then it began dancing, floating, rising, ever so softly, right under the hem of my flimsy skirt. He never lost contact with my skin or gaze during the glorious ascent.
Breaths skipped out of my nostrils in double time. My lungs were on fire, hot and raspy with want, and my lips felt parched, drawing out a stroke of my tongue.
“Seven hundred and twenty-six,” he muttered.
“Including hundreds of playfully delivered warm-up slaps, that’s where we’re at.”
“Oh. You counted? Wow, that’s a lot.”
“Indeed. That’s way more than I expected to give you.” His chickadee wings finally reached their destination, stopping and curling right under my soaked flower. “And look what we have here.”
I gasped when two fingers drew lines along my flesh.
He tsked and said, “Syrup on tap, even more than when I last checked.” Logan gently stroked the folds of my slit and covered my mouth with his other hand, shielding a moan when he edged the entrance with little circles. “Shhh, bad girl. How many spanks does it take to make an impact on a spanko who’s loving every minute of her punishment?”
I shrugged, but it morphed into a shiver when the breeze from the opened front door tickled my body and bitch-slapped the internal heat that was so close to consuming me.
“Neither do I. You’ve cried, sure, but not because you’re sorry. The truth is right here.” He looked down on the fondling action and back up, reclaiming my hypnotized stare. I was captivated and awestruck by the autumn in his eyes. “Want me to stop?”
Fuck no. His hand still blocking my lips, I shook my head side to side.
“Didn’t think so.” He released my mouth, placing his curled hand back over my head, but his other touch, building now, had me drowning in desire.
I quivered and clamped my jaw to kill the wild groan of ecstasy rushing along my tongue, as he thrust up inside me and finger-fucked me in the hallway while kids were getting treats right around the corner. I closed my eyes and lolled against the wall.
“Mmm, you’re so juicy.” He pressed his upper body closer until his lips were tickling my ear. His furious pulse was maddening against my boobs.
God, how I wanted this man. My eyes opened wide when I realized I’d hooked my fingers into his waistband and pulled his pelvis closer. I dropped my hand and raked my nails, accidentally I think, but not regrettably, against the restrained bulge that was still too far away from me.
“Naughty girl.” As he glided his fingers up into me, again and again, he inhaled deeply, his nose right on my skin. All of his touches flared twangy ribbons of energy through my body. “Speaking of juicy … you smell like peach. Not fake peach, real peach, ripe, succulent and sweet, ready to be eaten. It’s such a surprising scent for the dead of fall. Your shampoo or your body spray. Or maybe … it’s just you. Wanna know what I think, Luscious?”
He pulled back from me, but I was a puddle now, still tingling on my ear and in my well of passion. He stopped moving his hand but stayed buried inside me. I cursed my cunt as it squeezed at the desired intrusion of its own volition, begging him to resume that scorching slide. Could I be more slutty?
“I think your face should get redder than that ass and that embarrassment should linger in your gut for days, so much so, that you don’t even have to recall the event, it’s just there, constantly biting at your bits and making you burn. I think your stomach and legs should tremble so much, you’re convinced they’ve turned to Jell-O. I think you should whimper and cry deep in your soul because I made you feel like the bad girl you are. And I think you should, at the end of it all, feel totally absolved and repentant. I can make that happen. You shouldn’t be here getting your kinky kicks for free on my dime. I can punish you right, but you’d have to follow me into the darkness and do exactly as I ask. It wouldn’t be pretty. That’s option one. Or you can take the safer road and let me top you off at eight hundred with my hand, or a hairbrush perhaps, and you can leave here, knowing you didn’t get the punishment you truly deserved.” He took his hand off my mouth, slid out of my truth and slowly sucked my blabbermouth juice off his fingers. My loins jolted and ached. He ran his tongue across his fucking awesome lower lip, and I could smell my arousal on him, all spicy sweet. “Mmm. You are the peach. If I took a ripened slice, dipped it in butter and sugar and gave it a sprinkle of salt and pepper, it wouldn’t be as delectable, but it would be very close to the taste of you. Eating you out would surely be a heavenly experience, but only real angels deserve such a fun reward. You are here for punishment. Choose your poison.”
I clutched a fistful of his T-shirt and looked him dead in the eye as I breathed out, “Punish me … as you see fit.”
His eyes squinted, stealing the flames of Eros, and his breath hitched up to tango with mine. He was turned on, inspired, thrilled by my pick. He waited three seconds for me to change my mind, but I kept my trap shut. “There’s no backing out.”
“I made my choice and will hold to it.”
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