Twice in a Lifetime

Available January 22, 2018

When widow Talia Wasserman applies for a job with the local police department, she’s shocked to discover she’ll be working for Lieutenant Eve Poe, an officer she’d met—and been attracted to—during a long-ago citizen’s police academy workshop. Fifteen years later, the spark is still there, and no one’s currently in Talia’s life or in her bed. But there’s just one teeny, tiny problem. Eve is her boss, so she’s completely off limits.


Eve feels a sizzling connection with Talia from the very first, but Talia works for her, and that’s just a bad idea. Besides, Eve needs to focus on the person sending disturbing emails to her office, and not on the woman who quickly makes herself invaluable to the department. It’s too bad her heart doesn’t agree with her.


Then Eve is badly injured in the line of duty, and Talia’s worst fears are realized. She may lose her chance at happiness with the woman she’s come to love, and she can’t survive that kind of loss twice in a lifetime.

(approx 54,000 words)

Purchase Twice in a Lifetime



Trick…or Treat?


Happy Halloween! I hope you enjoy this super short story.   Fair warning…it is totally and completely NSFW. Emphasis on NOT.



Olivia Watterson-McConnell opened the door and grinned down at the pint-sized Red Riding Hood standing on the front porch of Bondage & Breakfast, which to most people looked like a private home.  Her mother stood at the bottom of the steps with a dog wearing a large tag that read Big Bad Wolf.

The little red-haired girl looked up at her, her mouth wide open. “You’re a princess!”

Olivia’s husband Gabe—a sadistic dominant— slipped an arm around her waist and smiled gently down at the girl. “She is, isn’t she?”

The child bit her lip. “Are you a prince?”

“He is, and he’s my prince,” Olivia replied.  She crouched down and spoke in a half-whisper as she put a package of chocolate candies in the girl’s picnic-basket Halloween bag.  “He’s handsome, isn’t he?”

“He’s kind of old,” the little girl said. “But he’s okay, I guess.”

Olivia smothered a laugh as the little girl skipped down the stairs to her mother, then turned and said thank you.

Gabe closed the door and backed her up against it, his mouth at her neck.  “You think that’s funny, Princess?”

She shivered as his teeth grazed her skin. “I…uh….”

Gabe laughed, low and dark.  “That’s what I thought.  Before we get another munchkin at the door, it’s time for a quick trick or treat. I’ll let you choose which you’d like.”

Olivia hesitated. Her husband was diabolical, so she wasn’t sure a trick was really a trick and a treat was really a treat.  She decided to hedge her bets. “You choose, Master.”

He tsked. “My will is for you to decide. Quickly, my love.”

Oh, bollocks. “I choose treat, Master.”

He grinned. “Excellent.  Turn around, palms flat against the door.”

Though nerves made her shiver, she did as he ordered.

“Good girl.” He came close behind her, his body pressed against hers as he lifted her floor-length skirt. She didn’t have panties on, because he hadn’t allowed them. He bit her earlobe, then held something up in her line of vision. “Your princess plug, my Princess. A treat, because I know how much you love it.”

Gah. Not the little one he sometimes had her wear when they were out, but the big one with the jewel that matched her eyes and the color of her gown.  She shuddered as he pressed it against her flesh, then steadily slid it past the tight ring of muscle without letting her get used to it in small increments. He’d lubed it up but standing as she was, with her feet close together, it felt huge going in. And he was right, damn him. She hated it, but oh, she loved it.

The doorbell rang again, and he dropped her skirt.


Gabe wiped his hands with antiseptic wet wipes he’d set on the table in the foyer, then opened the door. This time, they had two visitors, Black Widow and Captain America.  They were holding hands with a man who looked like Nick Fury. The little boy sighed. “A princess. Why girls gotta be princesses?” His sister reached around him and punched him. “Mama says girls can be whatever they want to be, just like I want to be a super hero.” Her father cleared his throat, and she dropped her hand. “Sorry, Daddy.”

Shaking his head wryly, he put his hands on their backs, and the kids held out their buckets.  “Trick or treat!”

Gabe grinned and looked at Olivia, whose face was a lovely shade of pink. “What do you think, my princess? Trick or treat for our two guests?”

Her voice was husky and her usually faint British accent was more pronounced, which always happened when she was aroused. “Superheroes definitely deserve treats.”

“Agreed,” he said, and as he held their container of candy, she took four packages and put two in each child’s bag.

They said their thanks, their father grinned, and then they were gone.

Gabe closed the door.  “Now, love. Trick… or treat?”

She raised a brow at him. “Are we going to do this each time we have a visitor?”

“That’s up to me, now isn’t it?”

“Yes, Master.” She dipped her eyes. “This time, I choose trick.”

Satisfaction flowed through him at both her submission and her choice. “Mmm. I was hoping you would.”  He opened the drawer in the side table and lifted out a butterfly vibe, showing it to her.  “Hold onto my shoulders.”

With trepidation in her eyes, she did as he asked.  He tapped each ankle in turn and she lifted each foot. He wiggled the thing up, then strapped the toy in place.  He flicked the remote in his pocket, and as it buzzed he settled it where he wanted it.  He knew it was right where it would torment her the most when she whimpered.  His cock hardened.

He could see a flashlight halfway down the block, so he didn’t have much time.  He dropped her skirts again and rapidly brought her to the edge of orgasm twice, but he didn’t let her go over. She was trembling when he stopped, but by the time the doorbell rang again, she was in control. Mostly.

Olivia opened the door with a smile, to a plump little pumpkin and her parents—all three of them—who waited at the foot of the stairs.

Gabe knew this trio, had seen them several times in the restaurant attached to the inn in the special section known only to those in their particular community, though he hadn’t realized they had a child. He squatted down to the adorable girl. “Hey, pumpkin.”

She giggled. “That’s what mama and mommy and daddy call me.”

He smiled at that and, as he stood, he acknowledged the trio with a nod. They smiled back. They knew who he was, too.

“Here you go, baby,” Olivia said. She dropped three packages of candy into the girl’s bag. “Happy Halloween.”

As the little girl raced down the steps to her waiting parents, Gabe set Olivia’s vibe to the lowest setting and stifled a laugh when she made a small eep and glared at him. She closed the door quickly, and he backed her against the door again.

He swiped a finger down her nose. “Relax. They know what goes on here. Didn’t you recognize them? They’re the trio that made me think about giving you that threesome with Mistress Miranda for Valentine’s day.”

She flushed deep red but nipped at his finger, which made him laugh and made him hard. “Bad girl. Hands behind your head.”

She did, which pushed her breasts out toward him.  The gown she wore was actually a skirt with a real corset, and not a cheap costume one, so she hadn’t needed a bra.  He lifted one breast out until her nipple was bared to him, and then he sucked the tip into his mouth and bit. Not lightly, but enough to leave teeth marks in her soft skin, framing the nipple that stood up, hard and aroused.


She loved having that done as much as he loved doing it, the perfect masochist to his sadist.  He twisted the nipple and she wobbled, but he steadied her. He’d always steady her, this woman who owned his heart just as much as he owned hers.  Gently, he tucked her breast back inside the dress, and lifted the other out, giving it the same treatment.

The doorbell rang yet again, and he covered her up.


Bloody hell, he was killing her. To calm her racing heart, she sucked in a breath—which rubbed her sore nipples against the corset, a sensation that was both painful and pleasurable—and opened the door.  There was an entire group of elementary school aged kids and, as she counted, she laughed. “They’re not all yours, are they?” she asked the woman standing with them.

“Goodness, no. But they decided they wanted to do a group costume, so here we are. Snow White and the seven dwarves.”

“Excellent costumes,” she said as she dropped four bags of candies into each proffered basket.

Gabe hooked his arm over her shoulder and grinned as they all wandered back down the walkway singing Whistle While You Work.

He closed the door, turned to her. “Don’t think I don’t see what you’re doing,” he said softly. “We’re almost out of candy.”

That was her plan, because holy guacamole, he was making it hard to focus on the kids.  “I’m sorry, Master?”

He flicked the butterfly vibe on low. “I’m not. How much longer do we do this?”

Though it was hard to focus with the plug in her ass and the vibe against her clit, she glanced at the clock in the hallway. “Another half hour, or we turn the light out when we’re out of candy.”

The doorbell rang again, and Gabe swore under his breath and turned the vibe off. It eased some of her sexual tension, as did the fact that he looked like he was just about done handing out candy. She opened the door to a girl dressed just like her, sitting in a wheelchair.

“Princess!” the little girl said. Her brown skin glowed with some kind of shimmery makeup, but the sparkle in her eyes rivaled that. “We’re both princesses.”

Wryly grateful that her submissive training had prepared her to kneel while wearing a butt plug, Olivia got on the girl’s level. “You’re quite the beautiful princess. Have you found your prince charming?”

The little girl wrinkled her nose. “Boys are icky. Can I find a Princess Charming instead?”

The girl’s mother laughed, and Olivia smiled. “That works too.”

The girl looked solemnly at Gabe. “Is he your Prince Charming?”

She stood, took Gabe’s hand and leaned against him. “He certainly is.”

“He’s not too icky.”

Her mother looked aghast, but Olivia just laughed. “That’s exactly what I think, too.”  She put five pieces of candy into the girl’s bucket, and wished her a happy Halloween.

Once the door was closed, Gabe growled, tossed the nearly empty basket of candy on the table, and turned off the porch light, locking the door.  With his hand collaring the side of her neck, he guided her into his study, then pointed to the floor in front of his desk. “Not too icky?”

“Well, you do get pretty icky when you’re working in the garden,” she said as she knelt, tossing him a cheeky grin.  “But you’re still my Prince Charming.”

He wound his fingers through her hair and tightened them. “I’m your Prince? Then lick my crown,” he ordered, unzipping his trousers.

She laughed, but the sound died in her throat as he fucked into her mouth, deeply.  And when he thumbed on the vibe, the moan that came from her was embarrassing.

“That’s right,” he said, laughing darkly. “No coming until I say you can come.”

She closed her eyes and gave in to the sensation of being so thoroughly used. It was freeing, and glorious, and she loved it. She felt him move, but didn’t realize what he’d done until her skirt hit the floor around her knees and she felt air on her naked ass. She smiled around the cock in her mouth, then gasped when he hit her with a crop she hadn’t seen, and therefore hadn’t expected. He struck her several times in rapid succession, setting her ass on fire and inflaming her desire. When she groaned, he drove his cock into her throat, gagging her.

Desperate arousal flooded her and she whimpered as he withdrew, letting her breathe.  “Master, please. Please may I come?”

“Hmmm, not yet.”  He fucked into her mouth a few more strokes, then drew her to her feet and bent her over his desk.  He held her down easily, and she didn’t struggle. Oh, she wanted this, so very much. He played against her skin for a few moments, teasing her with painful pinches and sadistic slaps which kept her aroused but gave her a moment to back away from the precipice so she could follow his order not to come.

And then he let loose, thrusting into her in a single long glide that nearly sent her right over the edge. As he stroked in, he pulled the butt plug out, alternating which he was doing until she was being fucked in both places.  She was breathing hard and sweating.

He was breathing hard, too, obviously on edge himself.  He leaned over her, pressing himself against her, putting his hand on the desk in front of her face as he thumbed the vibrator to max. “Come for me, Princess,” he ordered, and with those demanding words, he spurted into her in long, hot streams, setting off her own orgasm.

She tumbled into oblivion, his weight heavy against her, making her feel safe and secure and loved. He stirred, then bit her neck, right on his favorite spot. As he slipped out of her, spent, he scooped her up and carried her over to his chair, and together they snuggled in it until their breathing returned to mostly normal.

“You okay?” he asked softly, stroking her skin.

“I am, Master.” She burrowed close, felt his cock stir once again and knew their night wasn’t over yet. “So, was that a trick or a treat?”

He kissed her, and grinned his bad-boy grin.  “Yes.”


Trick … or Treat? Copyright ©2016 by Jodie Griffin

A Forbidden Obsessions Valentine

Happy Valentine’s Day, readers! A few years ago, I participated in a blog hop that was the brainchild of Tamsen Parker and Rebecca Grace Allen.  The #ValentinesRewind was set up as a chance to spend more time with characters you’d already met.

For my Rewind, I decided to give Gabe and Olivia (from Forbidden Obsessions) a fantasy scene.  I hope you enjoy Gabe’s special surprise. Fair warning…it is totally and completely NSFW. Emphasis on NOT.


A Forbidden Obsessions Valentine


The dress shop owner hung Gabe’s selections for Olivia on the hooks and stepped back outside the dressing room with a small grin on her face.  He grinned back, then followed his woman into the lushly-appointed space, closing the door behind him with a soft snick.  As he turned to her, he hid a smile at her slightly panicked look.

“Gabe! What are you doing? You have to wait outside.”

He gave her the face she called, in her brattier moments, his Dom of the Castle look.  Single raised brow, mocking smile. Then he strode forward, tugging the cuffs of his dress shirt from under his suit coat.

She obviously recognized the look and got his meaning, because she flushed and stepped backward. “Sir, here?”

A perfectly trained sub she was not, but she’d come a long way in the time they’d been together.  He continued forward, crowding her space. “Yes, here. Take the dress off, Olivia.’

She started to step back again but checked the motion, which pleased him inordinately.  “I can do this myself, Master.”

“Oh, I know you can, princess.  I’m just here to… help.”  He skimmed a knuckle down her cheek, then pinched her chin lightly. “And you know what it does to me when you call me Master.”

She flushed a becoming pink, but a hiss escaped from between her teeth. “What if she comes back and finds you in here…helping?”

By she, Olivia meant the shop owner, and she definitely would because she was in on this whole scene he’d planned.  Miranda was a friend and a bisexual Domme, though for whatever reason she and Olivia hadn’t yet crossed paths. This scene was both an early Valentine’s gift to Olivia and an object lesson in trusting him to keep her safe, no matter where or when he chose to exercise his will.

He leaned closed and stage-whispered in his fiancée’s ear. “And what if she does?”

He could practically see the wheels spinning her head.  She did trust him, fully and completely—with scenes inside known play spaces like Bondage and Breakfast, the kink club they’d gone to when they’d vacationed at the beach, and like-minded friends’ homes.  But she wasn’t comfortable with public play.  She hadn’t made it a limit—hard, or soft— which told him she wanted it but couldn’t make the final leap of faith that she wouldn’t be exposed.  He understood that, had seen her frustration with herself over it, and he’d been thinking over the best way to help her through that fear.  This was what he’d come up with.

Olivia bit her lip and then lowered her voice. “But Master, the rope.”

He’d tied her in a corset before leaving the house, not so tight she’d lose circulation, but tight enough she’d wear his marks for longer than five minutes. The weight of her submission lay heavy on his shoulders as he studied her carefully.  Her face was still flushed, not white with fear. Color sat high on her cheekbones and dusted across her chest.  She was anxious, but not scared. Truth be told, her slight case of nerves turned him on, sadist that he was.  If he saw true fear, he’d pull the plug on the whole damn scene, but this? This was delicious. “The green is the perfect foil for your skin, really.” He sharpened his voice and crossed his arms over his chest, enjoying himself immensely. “I’d like to see it now.”

He could practically see red sitting on the tip of her tongue as she searched his face for …something.  He rarely needed to remind her she had a safe word anymore, because she did trust him and she’d learned he wouldn’t be mad at her if she used it. Disappointed, maybe, because he was only human. But never angry, because their dynamic was based on full consent. If she was truly unhappy, so was he, and he’d made damn sure she knew that down to her very soul.   He loved what kink brought to their lives, but he loved her more.

After a long moment, she let out a shuddery breath and began unbuttoning her dress with trembling hands. “Yes, Master.”

Satisfaction flowed through him. A small concession but a huge victory in that she hadn’t looked around to see if anyone could possibly see them, hadn’t investigated the mirrors or looked for cameras.  She’d looked only to him as she’d decided whether or not to follow his orders.

As though he were her anchor in a roiling sea.

For a dominant, it didn’t get any better than that.

She was well aware he was a neat-freak and she did as was required at home, folding her dress and setting it on one of the chairs.  She turned back and locked eyes with him, then lowered her gaze and bowed her head, sinking gracefully to her knees, her thighs spread and her palms face up on them.

Christ, she knew exactly how to slay him, and his voice went thick as he praised her. “Beautifully done, love.”

He walked around her twice, slowly and deliberately, stopping just beside her.  She wore nothing but the rope, her princess plug and some panties, and those only because she’d told him in that oh-so-crisp British accent of hers that she’d not try on clothes in a shop without her knickers because that was disgusting, thank you very much. He’d laughed and allowed her a pair of bikini undies, but he’d made her use a plug and a crotch rope to keep her focused on her submission. He’d tied her so kneeling would put some additional tension on the knot and, as he’d hoped, it sat right over her clit.


There was a soft knock on the door.  Olivia didn’t know it, but Miranda had closed the shop for the afternoon, so no one else was in the store but the three of them.

“Come in,” he replied. Though he and Olivia had picked out a few everyday vanilla dresses together, he’d also called ahead and asked Miranda to suggest some of her kinkier stock for Olivia.

As the door opened, Olivia started to rise, but then she sucked in a breath and sat back down on her heels—which tightened the crotch rope again, causing her to hiss and him to grin—then she exhaled on a shuddery breath. Goose bumps rose over her flesh invitingly.

Miranda quirked a grin at him over Olivia’s lowered head, then schooled her face into a bland expression.  “I brought the other things you wanted to see, Mr. McConnell. Some of them are hard to fasten. I’d be happy to assist you, in any way you’d like.”

“Thank you. We’d appreciate that.” He reached down, gathered Olivia’s long hair into his fist, and then tugged her head back gently.  “On your feet, princess.”

She rose as gracefully as she’d gone to her knees, but with her standing, he could see the color across her cheeks and her chest had deepened to a dull red.

The sadist in him thrilled to that. He let the power flow through him, growling into her ear. “Good girl.”


Liv tried not to freak out, but it was hard. Some stranger who didn’t understand anything about their lifestyle was standing here, watching and probably judging her as she followed Master’s orders. God, she hated feeling this expos—

He stepped behind her, still holding her hair in his fist, and set his teeth at the dip in her shoulder. She shuddered at the first touch, her mind going sideways. Then when he bit down, all rational thoughts fled from her head, and she couldn’t hold back her groan—or the rush of heat between her thighs.

He laughed darkly and slid a finger under the rope, tugging on the strand between her cheeks, pulling it and letting it loose. The knot rubbed against her clit and the rest of the rope pushed against her plug. A desperate sound escaped her.

“Who decides, love?” He continued to rock the rope, tormenting her as he questioned her, his breath hot against her skin. She didn’t know if she wanted more or if she wanted him to stop, but it didn’t matter what she wanted. She knew that, and it only made her burn hotter.  He tugged her head back against his shoulder.  “Who’s in charge?”

When she didn’t answer immediately, he twisted the rope between her legs tighter, which sent her up on her tippy-toes with a gasp. “You, Master. You are.”

A soft, feminine chuckle had her heart stuttering. And when Master let out another dark laugh, a shudder started in her legs and worked its way up. God. God, how could she have forgotten they had an audience? How could she let herself—

He let go of her hair, his hand sliding around to cover her throat lightly, his thumb caressing her neck as he held her in place against his body.  Her mind dropped back into that lovely calm space, as it always did when he exerted his dominance. Then he slipped his other hand free from the crotch rope, sliding it between her back and his front to undo the knot at the base of the corset.  The soft yet scratchy rope played against her skin as he tugged it free of its hold.  She shuddered, her body melting against her Master, yielding to his control.

“Like that, do you?” His words were softly mocking but she knew he wanted an honest answer.  He always wanted an honest answer.

“Oh, yes, Master.” She tried to turn her head into his chest, to look up at him so he could see the truth of it. He allowed it, and she rubbed her cheek against his suit coat, inhaling the scent of him, as though she were marking him like a cat. “Please?”

She wasn’t sure what she was asking for, but locked gaze to gaze with him, she saw the corner of his eyes crinkle. He let the crotch rope drop and the next thing she knew, his hand was inside the front of her knickers, his fingers teasing her entrance.

Oh, yes, this. She wanted this.  “Master, please.”

Still holding her against him, he knocked her leg wider and then buried his fingers deep inside her, rubbing one knuckle against her most sensitive spot. As attuned to her as he was, it never took him long to find it—or to get her to the point where she was clinging to the edge of orgasm with everything she had.

But she wasn’t allowed to come without permission, so she fought it, twisting in his grip, straining her muscles with the almost-impossible task.

“That’s right, princess. No coming unless I say you can. Hold it.”

A whimper escaped her, and his knowing laugh made her want to hit him. She knew what would happen if she made that wrong choice, and no thank you. So instead she begged him. “Please, Master. Please let me come.”

“Not yet.”

Of course not. He never let her come right away. Sometimes, she wished that—

As though he had a direct line to her thoughts, he flexed his fingers against her neck, tightening them ever so slightly so she knew, knew she was completely under his control, and then he bit her shoulder again, this time harder. She cried out, and he withdrew his fingers from her warmth. She made another noise, this time of protest, and he slammed his fingers back in, fucking her faster with them. The need grew, and grew, and grew until —

Now,” he growled.

Her body went rigid as her orgasm flashed over, then she collapsed against him, sated.


Gabe knew how Olivia thought — one and done— but he knew better. Hell, she should know better by now. One was barely a warm-up, and she was quite capable of going the distance.  He didn’t stop tormenting her, instead switched hands, sliding the fingers that had been inside her into her mouth. “Suck me, baby.”  Then he slid his free hand in between their bodies and started playing with the anal plug.

She ran her talented tongue around his fingers and between them, licking them and sucking as though she’d never get another chance. He wished he could be in two places at once, because his dick wanted some of that action.  Instead, he refocused his own needs and bit her again, tugging at her skin.

She’d have both teeth marks and a bruise later, and that thought sent satisfaction rushing through him.

It didn’t take long before her arousal caught fire again. He kept teasing her, whispering all the dirty things he’d like to do to her as he fucked her ass with the anal plug and her mouth with his fingers.  She twisted against him, almost as if she hadn’t just had an explosive orgasm, but he knew it would take more than he alone could give her in this position to make her come again.

That’s where Miranda came in.

On one of their very first dinners at Bondage and Breakfast, Olivia had witnessed a threesome with two women and a man.  He’d asked her if the thought of three turned her on, but she’d given a vague answer. He remembered, though, how fascinated Olivia had been by the two women together.  That thought had tormented him for months.

He hated the thought of another man touching Olivia, but a woman, in a limited scene? Tempting. A few weeks ago, while they lay in bed after finishing off a bottle of good wine, they’d talked about fantasies, and he’d brought that scene up. When she’d admitted she kept thinking about it and wondered what it’d be like to be that woman in the middle, he was sunk.

He turned Olivia’s face toward his and kissed her deeply, tasting her essence on her lips and tongue. “You with me, love?”

She made a noise in the affirmative, and when she spoke, her voice was rough with passion. “Please, Master. I need—”

“I know what you need.”  He nuzzled her cheek, then caught Miranda’s eye and gave a small nod.

“I’m available to assist you in any way, Mr. McConnell.”

“Thank you, Miranda. Please take off Olivia’s panties. They’re in the way.”

Olivia tensed in his arms and her breath hitched. “Mas—”

Things could come to a crashing halt right now, or his woman would roll with her fantasy come to life. He was betting on the latter, but prepared for the former. He pinched her chin, locked eyes with her. “Who makes the decisions?”

She started to tremble but dipped her eyes in acknowledgement. “Y-you do, Master.”

“That’s right, princess. I do. And I say Miranda is going to take off your panties.” Considering this was new territory for both of them, he added a reminder, as much to himself as to her. “Use your safe word if you need to, understood?” When she nodded, he gave the go ahead.  “Please continue, Miranda.”

“My pleasure.”  Miranda crouched in front of Olivia and skimmed her hands lightly up Olivia’s calves and then thighs. “Mmm. She’s lovely.”  She hooked her fingers into the sides of Olivia’s panties and drew them down until they lay on the floor around her ankles. “And she’s very, very wet. Her panties are drenched, and I can smell her arousal.”

Olivia let out a small dismayed sound, which only amped up Gabe’s desire to gain her full submission. He lightly smacked her thigh. “Step out of those.”

When she did, he carefully undid the rope corset as Miranda watched. As expected, Olivia closed her eyes and drifted back into ropespace, and again he nodded at Miranda. Together, they stroked Olivia’s skin, and when her body swayed, he lifted her and moved to the chaise with her in his lap, all soft and pliant.

“Lucky guy,” Miranda said softly, pulling a small foot stool close as they’d planned.

“That I am,” he replied. When Olivia started to stir, he slouched on the bottom end of the chaise, then shifted her so she straddled his lap, her head on his shoulder, her nose buried against his neck. This would be the perfect view to watch Miranda play with Olivia’s body, to see his lover come awake under the Domme’s touch.  But first, she needed to be a bit more aware. He laid one arm across Olivia’s chest and started playing with her nipples, then tucked the other under her thigh to wiggle the plug in her ass.

She blinked her eyes open and made the most kitten-like noise he’d ever heard from her.  With a grin, he spread his knees so her legs opened wider, baring her completely to Miranda’s view.

Once again, he shared a look with Miranda and the Domme leaned forward and went to work, biting a path up the inside of Olivia’s thigh.

Olivia was still a bit out of it and though she sighed contentedly, she started lifting her hips for more. If there was one thing that set Olivia off, it was biting. He didn’t mind, as it was one of his favorite things to do to her, and he’d shared that with Miranda.

When he tweaked her nipple and jiggled the butt plug, realization washed over Olivia’s face.  She was smart, his woman. If his hands are there and there, and his mouth is right there, then who… Her eyes flew open, and her mouth widened into a wide O. He lifted his hand from her breast long enough to turn her face to his, holding it there.  “She’s going to bite you, and lick you, and fuck you with her mouth and her hand. But you will not come, understand? You’re going to hold it, like the good girl you are, and then you’re going to ask permission.”

She made a desperate noise, and he released her gaze to look down the length of her torso. He fought a grin. Miranda hadn’t paused a beat during his explanation, and right now her fingers were buried deep inside Olivia’s body, and her tongue was lashing at Olivia’s clit.

“I…yes, Master.” Her voice went up an octave as Miranda did something to her, amusing him.

“I’m so glad we understand each other.”  He kissed her nose, nipped her chin, and went right back to twisting her nipples and pinching her skin with one hand, and torturing her with the anal plug with the other.

“Edge, Master,” Olivia panted.  “Oh, God. Please let me come.”

He tsked. “You know better than that.  We’re just beginning.”

He eased off, giving her a few moments to compose herself.  They brought her to the edge several more times, pausing in between the rounds of orchestrated torture so she didn’t go over.  At this point, though, she wasn’t the only one being tortured.  His dick ached so much, it felt like those first few weeks before he’d taken Olivia like he’d wanted to. And Miranda’s color was high, as well, so it was a good thing they had a plan.

Then the shop doorbell rang.


God, God, God, God. Liv’s head was fuzzy and her body screamed for release, but the doorbell was a splash of cold water. She tensed, and she heard Gabe’s growled curse.

“Give me two minutes,” Miranda muttered.  “It’s probably the delivery that should’ve been here an hour ago. I’ll be right back.” She left the room and closed the door tightly behind her.

Gabe drew her legs together and turned her so she was on her knees between his splayed legs. He was sprawled on the chaise, his coat off, his tie loosened and his hair mussed, his feet on the floor. In that position, the bulge under the placket of his zipper was unmistakable. His color was high, and his grey eyes glittered with barely-restrained lust.  “Don’t worry about whoever’s out there. Unzip my trousers. I want your mouth on me, now.”

His roughly uttered demand spurred her submission, and she freed him with shaky hands.  He’d gone commando under his trousers, and his cock lay thick and heavy against his stomach. She rubbed her face against him, then opened her mouth, looking up at him, waiting the way he liked her to wait.

“Christ, you’re trying to kill me.” Leaning up on an elbow, he grabbed her hair and fucked into her mouth, shallowly at first.  “Lick me like you licked my fingers earlier.”

She did. Oh, God, she did, sucking him into her mouth and halfway down her throat. The tighter he held her head where he wanted it, the wetter she got. And when she heard the door behind her open, she didn’t give a single damn who it was.

Let them watch.

There was a whisper of air as someone reached around her and squeezed her breast.  Miranda? Liv’s eyes dipped down. A feminine hand, and as she felt breasts brush against her back, another rush of heat flooded her.

She could not believe Master had orchestrated this, but all thoughts fled as he shifted his grip and pulled her head closer, fucking into her throat. He held her there for a quick moment, and then released her so she could breathe. He did it again, this time going deeper, holding her a little longer. She gagged around him and her core clenched, hard.

He laughed, that dark laugh she loved so much, the one that said he knew exactly, exactly what that did to her—and that he planned to do it again.

He did, only this time, she felt a hand between her legs, parting her.  When he fucked into her mouth, Miranda’s hand fucked into her pussy. She groaned and then she gagged and then—

“Jesus, she likes it when you gag her with your cock. She flooded my hand and squeezed the shit out of my fingers.”

He pulled back, stroking his thumb over the tears leaking from the corner of her eyes. He smiled at her, a sweet smile at odds with the depraved things he was doing to her, but he always tempered his sadistic acts with loving gestures and words. “Mmm, yes. She likes being used every bit as much as I like using her. She’s a dirty, dirty girl, and she’s perfect.”

Embarrassed but pleased heat flashed over her, and she leaned her head forward, hiding her face behind her hair.

He laughed, then, and pulled her up the length of his body until she lay against his chest. He kissed her mouth, hard and sweet, and squeezed her ass tight with both hands before lowering her onto his cock.

With the plug in her ass, and aroused and swollen as she was, being filled by him was exhilaratingly painful. She dropped her head back, closing her eyes and breathing through it, then was startled when she felt a whisper of silk against her legs.  She looked over her shoulder and, in the mirror, saw Miranda behind her, also straddling Master’s thighs.  Her skirt was rucked up, and she wore a belt of some kind around her hips.  That was the only glance she got, because Miranda squeezed Olivia’s nipples, pulling them tightly. A shocked squeal escaped and she leaned forward, trying to shift away from the pain, but Miranda only laughed and came forward with her, still holding her nipples.

She was trapped between Master at her front, and Miranda at her back.

Master bit her lower lip and gripped her hips, his eyes glittering again. “Hold on to the back of the chaise, and do not let go. If you let go, everything stops.” He bucked his hips and fucked her hard, once, twice, three times. “Including this. Understood?”

She answered on a sob. “Yes, Master.”

“Good girl.  Here we go.”

She might be on top, but he was completely in control. He fucked her, slow at first, then harder, teasing her, drawing it out. And then Miranda began to move against her, pushing against her when Master pulled back.  That didn’t really do anything for her, but if Master wanted—

She screamed as the plump, buzzing head of a vibrator landed between her ass cheeks and against the stainless steel princess plug there.

The vibrations. Oh, God, the vibrations. Every time Miranda pushed against her, it made the vibrations stronger. Then she’d back off, and Master would fuck into her again. Back and forth, taking turns until her entire body was coiled on the edge of something immense, something she wasn’t sure she could hold back, even on the threat of punishment.  “Please. Please. Please.

Master growled his answer, the cords on his neck standing out. “Not until I come, and not until Miranda comes. Then you may come.”

Her whole body was alive with feeling, riding right on the edge of orgasm, but she couldn’t do anything to make them move faster or come faster. Master held her hips and Miranda held her breasts, and all she could do was take it. Her entire focus was on not coming, not without permission.

Christ.” Master groaned, holding her tight against him as he came inside her in long, warm, spurts. His chest heaved, and he pulled her close, locking his mouth onto hers.

Miranda came next, her muscles going tight against Liv’s body as she breathed in short bursts, her body heavy against Liv’s back.  The added weight sent stronger vibrations through the butt plug, and finally, finally, Master spoke.

“Come for me, princess. Now.”

She shattered into a million pieces, her entire body going limp and boneless. She thought she was done, surely she was done, but Master turned her slightly, and then Miranda set the giant vibrator against her clit. She came again, three more times before they showed mercy on her and shut it off.

She floated in a haze of satisfaction, words billowing around her, but she made no sense of them.  She wasn’t sure how long she lay there, but eventually her surroundings started to filter back in. Master’s wrinkled shirt beneath her cheek. His hand, rubbing up and down the naked skin of her back—but not on her scars. He knew better, and he was always so careful with her, even when he was being sadistic. Especially when he was being sadistic. Contentment filled her, and she tucked her head under his chin, unwilling to move yet.

He laughed lightly and sat up, pulling her with him, lifting her chin to examine her face. He kissed her nose. “I see you’re back with me, princess. You doing okay?” He opened a bottle of water and held it up to her lips.  “Drink some of this.”

She took a sip, then several long gulps of water. “Thank you, Master.”

“My pleasure, love.” He fed her a piece of chocolate, too, and as the sugar hit her system, she became more aware.

There was a blanket around her, so she was naked, but covered. But a blanket, here in a dress shop? She blinked, then frowned at him.

He laughed, rubbing his thumb over the furrow in her brow. “Confused?”

She scowled. “Yes, Master.”

There was a soft knock at the door.  “Come in,” he said.

It was Miranda, and she was carrying a small plate of bite sized sandwiches. Liv felt herself flush. This woman had…God.

Miranda laughed softly and set the plate down. “I think maybe introductions are in order.”

Gabe grinned. “I think you’re right. Princess, meet Mistress Miranda. She’s the owner of this shop, and co-owner of a dungeon in Maryland. Miranda, my lovely submissive and my soon-to-be wife, Olivia.”

Miranda glanced at Gabe, and when he nodded, she came close and tucked her hand under Liv’s chin. To her utter shock, Miranda kissed her on the mouth, much as Master did, then ran her knuckles down Liv’s cheek. “Thank you for including me, Gabe. It was an incredible afternoon.”

Liv’s head spun, partly from the woman’s kiss, and partly from the confusion.  “Master? I don’t understand.”

He tugged a lock of her hair. “It was your fantasy, and I didn’t know what to get you for Valentine’s Day. So I got you this.”

It took her a moment, and then—“You set this all up?”

He grinned. “Guilty as charged.”

She blinked. “I thought we were here to try on clothes.”

Miranda’s voice came from behind them, a dry humor in her words. “I sure hope you are. I closed the shop this afternoon at your Master’s request to ensure privacy, and he promised he’d make up for any losses by buying you a bunch of new things.”

Her world tipped sideways as she stared at the man she loved more than anyone in the world. “You made sure no one would see us. I was afraid—”

All amusement dropped from his face as he resettled her so they could sit eye to eye. He cupped her cheek. “I promised you I’d never put you in a position where you might be exposed. I wanted to show you we can play in public without real fear of being found out. There’s always a chance—like an unexpected delivery at the door—but I will do everything in my power to keep that from happening. I know you were worried. I could see it in your face, and I’m so proud of you for working through the fear. You please me, princess. In every way.”

Instead of making her feel better, his words made her feel worse. She sniffled. “I’m sorry, Master.”

“For what, baby?”

She blinked back tears. “For not believing you.”

He kissed her again, then smiled gently. “If you didn’t believe I’d keep you safe, you’d have called red.  I know you know you can always safe out. I gave you the opportunity more than once today.  And you chose not to.  Sweetheart, it’s not me you didn’t trust. It was your own fear holding you back. You wanted this, and I know that. I just made it happen.”

She sniffed again. “I love you, Master.”

“I know.” His eyes twinkled, and then he let her off the hook. “I love you, too.”

There was a soft snick as the door closed. Miranda had left them alone, and there was a whole rack of clothes she hadn’t tried on yet.  She grabbed the blanket and wrapped it around her, then hopped off Gabe’s lap and padded over to them, flipping through things she knew she hadn’t picked out. She turned back to him.  “What are these?”

He grinned at her. “Some things Miranda thought I’d like to see on you.”

She held one up, looked at what couldn’t be more than two inches of fabric, then raised a brow. “I’m not quite sure this is my size.”

He held out his hand. “Don’t worry. You’ll see. Come eat something.”

She felt a tiny pang of disappointment, but went back to him and knelt on the floor at his feet. He fed her a sandwich, and she leaned against his leg, looking up at him.  Amusement played over his features, and warning bells went off.  “What’s that look for?”

He leaned forward, whispered in her ear. “We’re not nearly done yet, you and I …and Mistress Miranda. You’d best eat up, love.”

Almost impossibly, her core clenched as she flashed hot all over. More? Good lord. “I…yes, Master.”

“That’s my good girl.”

 The end….for now!


If you made it all the way through, thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed this visit with Gabe and Olivia and Mistress Miranda (who will, eventually, have her own story.) 



Sleigh Bells Ring

Sleigh Bells Ring Small


Vixen loves Nicholas, but as her stay in the North Pole grows short, this reindeer-shifter worries that her time spent with the Master Elf has ruined her for any other dominant out in the real world. But Nic has other plans for the little doe who caught his eye….and his heart.

A holiday gift for my readers, you can get SLEIGH BELLS RING right here, for free!


PLEASE NOTE:  ePub and Kindle links will take you to Google docs for a downloadable file that must be side-loaded onto your device or read on a device that has the appropriate reading app loaded.  PDF may be read online or sent to another device.






When You’re More OrganISHed than Organized

Get It Together Blog Hop Banner

I must confess, I am probably not the best person to talk about getting organized.  I’m one of those people who buys a calendar, uses it for all of January, and then….where’d that thing go? Short attention span, maybe? Or too much going on in my life?  If so, you’d THINK I’d be better about sticking to it, wouldn’t you?


*clears throat*   When it comes to organization, I’m more organISHed than organized! Which is why I plan to glom everyone else’s posts and see if I can find some good life hacks! I am organized about some things, and other things I’m trying. Here are the ways I’m trying to bring order to chaos:  

BOOK FILES:  On my laptop, I have a folder called “BOOKS” under my documents.  Within that folder, I have folders for each project, as well as folders for my writing expenses, my blog posts, and pictures that inspire characters. DirectoryStructure For example, I have a folder for my Bondage and Breakfast series with Carina.  There are multiple folders there…one for each of the 4 published books, one for each of the short free pieces I’ve written between the books. With each of the book’s folders, I have additional folders for files on each phase of the process…original files, crit files, submission files, developmental edit files, copy edit files, and then final files.  I can see, in a snap, everything related to a specific project.


MICROSOFTE ONENOTE: I’m playing with OneNote as a way to organize ideas for books. So far, I’m not loving it, but because I see the potential and I also see a good use for it in my day job, I’m signed up to take an online class for it as part of my education for the year. Shhhhh…..tell no one I’m doing double duty!


EXCEL SPREADSHEETS:  I have two I keep pinned to my desktop…one is my character bible, where I keep track of things like names, nicknames, ages, hair and eye colors, jobs. I seem to have a thing for the name Marcus and the name Alex, so, uh….this is totally necessary!  The other is a word count tracker that I started out GREAT on at the beginning of the year…and totally fizzled on.  Not sure it’s working for me, so I’m hoping someone else has a better version or way for that.


STORY IDEA BINDER:  When I was a mere fluffy kitten, I wrote many, many, many extremely short pieces of fiction as part of an online writer’s group. Maybe I’ll use them. Maybe I won’t. But I’ve got them sorted into Erotic Romance, Paranormal Romance, Romantic Suspense, etc,  and every once in a while I pull an idea from that binder. Forbidden Fires is one of those stories that came from that binder of short fiction I wrote ten years ago. One thousand words to 52,000 words….and published! 



WRITING ON THE GO:  I keep a notebook with me at all times. A small one lives in my purse, but when I travel (and leave my laptop behind) I bring out the big guns… a real notebook and a pencil case carrying everything I might need. I like the 6.5” x 8.5” spiral notebooks you can get at Target or Walmart. The last one I bought, which I love, didn’t have a folder, so I added one myself to the back cover. 

Have you met washi tape yet? It’s awesome. I also make sure I have binder clips (love those things – they work better than paperclips, IMO) and post it notes in every color of the rainbow.  My pencil case doesn’t have pencils, it has pens, washi tape, a pair of scissors, highlighters.   This way, I’m set for anything I want…jotting notes, edits, reading a hard copy of something I’m working on.  I’m also trying to set up a bag that’s a mobile office. My notebook and my pencil case would go in there, along with some snacks (writers gotta eat!) and anything I need that doesn’t fit into the notebook or the pencil case. 


ALL IN ONE BINDER:  I’m also testing out a binder system. Same size, but with the ability to add pages in whatever order I want. A little heavier so not as convenient, but I also have a portable hole-puncher I can keep right in the binder so I can add things easily.   Target has a pretty good selection of stuff for these smaller binders, including pocket folders, dividers, sheet protectors and loose-leaf paper. Plus, there are a ton of printable pages online to help customize what you need. And because this blog hop got me thinking about the fact that my brain no longer coughs up info as easily as it used to and some stuff just slips right out of my mind, this weekend I bought an academic planner for $1 at Dollar Tree, took the wire binding off it, and plopped it right into my binder! Voila!  I usually buy a wire-bound calendar each year anyway, but I’m thinking if I keep a one in the binder, I might use it more.  


I can think of other things for the binder as well:  Expense register. Word count goals. Blog post ideas. A copy of my character bible. Self-care journal with things like food tracking, water intake, exercise.  Grocery list. Vacation planning.  School schedule.  And these don’t have to be all separate pages, either….I love the idea of bullet journaling. 


MY SUGGESTIONS:  If you’re trying to figure out how to get organized…look on tumblr or Pinterest! There are a ton of blogs out there for getting organized, mostly school stuff but easily adaptable for a writing life! Though I do have to warn you – both those sites may make you feel like you can never measure up. Ignore that, look for ideas that you can use and maintain, and toss the rest of it out the window!

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed my story of organISHation, and I’d love to hear what tricks you have for keeping your life together!  Also, click the link below for a chance to enter a giveaway!

a Rafflecopter giveaway


Best Bondage Erotica 2015

Best Bondage Erotica 2015

My short story, Tied and Twisted, is included in this erotic anthology from Cleis Press.

Between work and parental responsibilities, long-time married couple Mason and Addie don’t get nearly enough time to indulge in their kinky desires.  But Mason has a surprise for Addie, an adults-only weekend away at Kink Kamp, where he treats her to a suspension scene she’ll never forget.

My Writing Process

Today I’m taking the baton for this fun blog hop from the lovely Seleste deLaney (also known as Julie Particka for her YA!)  You should stop by and read about her writing process!

1)  What am I working on?

Right now, I’m working on a novella that I’m hoping will be a three book series. It already includes two characters you’ve met, Jeremy Kohler (from Matzoh and Mistletoe) and Delia Butler (from Forbidden Fires).  This story features Jason Locke (yep, another Dom – what can I say?) and Abby Barnes who meet unexpectedly and then discover they may be suited for each other.  I’ve also got an entire of file of ideas screaming “me next!” but I want to get this one done.


2)   How does my work differ from others of its genre?

I tend to write sweet Doms. Oh, they’re alphas, but they’re not alphaholes. They want control, but they’re not jerks about it. Gabe from Forbidden Obsessions is case in point.


3)  Why do I write what I do?

A few reasons. I’ve found I really like that wide open door found in erotic romance, and it’s what I enjoy reading, as well.  And sex is such an integral, complex part of a relationship, so I like showing how a character learning more about his and/or her sexual self creates obstacles and opportunities.


4) How does my writing process work?

There’s a process? How come no one told me? *pauses* All kidding aside, every author’s process is different.

notebooksI get an idea, and I jot a few sentences about it in a file I call “next projects.”  I’ve always got a notebook with me just in case.  If I’m working on something else, that may be as far as I go with it for now, but I never want to lose those ideas. (All bets are off when I’m sleeping, though. Those? They usually get lost. *le sigh*)

When I’m actively working on something, I rarely read anything new, or I’ll read in a completely different genre, like mystery. I’m wary of what I call “cross-contamination” and I don’t want someone else’s words to influence my own.

I tend to write one day, and review what I’ve written the next. I make any changes (usually less than half an hour) and then I move on. I *must* write in a linear fashion – I can’t skip around — and I don’t generally plot. Which means if I’m stuck on direction, I’m STUCK. Sort of a pain, but it’s a process that’s worked five times so far!

And I write fairly complete drafts. I’m not one of those people who do three and four rewrites before they submit.  I also write full chapters — I know a lot of people don’t put chapter breaks in until the end, but honestly, that would make me crazy! *shudders*


So, that’s it for me! Next up to talk about their writing processes are lovely authors Vivian Arend , Cathy Pegau, and Regina West.  Their posts will be up next week, May 19th!


Flash Fiction: Game for You


CJ Lemire posted a writing prompt at his website after a twitter conversation that went, as things often do, to the durty.  The challenge, to write a 500 word erotic flash fiction piece based on the game Clue.  Here’s my semi-NSFW take on it:


Game for You

“I cannot believe I let you rope me into this.”

I grinned at Janelle’s serendipitous choice of words, enjoying the tiny furrow between her delicately shaped brows. When she’s riled, I like soothing away her frustrations by creating tension of another kind. Good thing I’d already planned for this. “What? It’s good publicity for the library and the toy shop. And you volunteered.”

“An afternoon of board games with kids? What was I thinking? I don’t have that kind of patience.”

I laughed, running my nails down her neck, playing with the small charm in the hollow of her throat. “No patience? Guess we’ll have to work on that.”

She gave me side-eye as goose bumps rose on her skin, then her gaze flicked to the slightly-open door of the library’s community activity room. “What are you doing? Someone will see.”

I scraped my nails across the tops of her lush breasts, which were covered by a loose, flowing peasant top with an elastic neckline. With my back to the door, shielding her body, she was protected. No one could see me drag the neckline down to reach the pretty lace of her bra, which I rubbed back and forth against her nipple, making her squirm. “I’m playing with what’s mine, my lovely pet.”

She froze.

Our power-exchange dynamic had always been confined to home, never in public. But last week we’d come across a couple in a darkened doorway. He’d had his hand around the back of the girl’s neck, his thumb against her throat, his other hand under her skirt.  Janelle’s light brown skin had flushed a darker color, her nipples had gone rigid and I’d seen the desire in her dark eyes.

Today, the not-in-public thing was about to change.  I planned to push her edges but, as always, she had the final say in how far things went. “You have a safe word, love. Use it if you need to.”

She swallowed then nodded once, that sweet hint of red darkening her cheeks again.

Oh, yeah. “You know what made me think of this today?”

“No, Mistress.”

I reached into the bag I had slung across my body, pulled my hand out, then turned my palm face up and grinned. On it was a length of twisted turquoise.

Janelle blinked. “Rope?”

I led my lover to the small bathroom in the corner of the room, then took her inside, stripping her of her shirt and her skirt in under twenty seconds.

I wrapped the rope around her, tying her into a waist corset with a crotch rope. One that had a knot right at her ultra-sensitive clit.  I put my lips against hers, swallowing the moan she made as I tugged first the rope and then her nipples.

With much regret, I helped her dress.  “Not just rope, pet. Clue.  Mistress Scarlet, with the rope, in the Library.”

An unrestrained laugh burst from her.  “You win, Mistress.”

I nipped her neck. “And so do you. Later.”


Game for You, © Jodie Griffin, 2014