Read Pleasure Point-nook Online
Authors: Eden Bradley
Pleasure Point-nook (15 page)
Something creaked in the front of the renovated shotgun house I’d called home for
the last year, the floorboards speaking to me as if to confirm my sense of unease.
I groaned aloud. Now I definitely wouldn’t be able to sleep. Even knowing the house
was old and the wind rumbling through the crawlspace beneath the house allowed for
all kinds of unfamiliar sounds, I’d have to get up and make sure everything was locked.
Ghosts I could deal with. Breaking and entering? Not so much.
I shoved the covers off of me and pulled on a pair of boxer shorts I’d left hanging
over the footboard. Wrapping my arms around myself, I padded first to the kitchen
to check the backdoor then headed through the straight line of open doorways to the
front of the house to check the main door.
Outside, the wind swirled post-rainstorm, rattling the shutters on the side of the
house and making the oak tree in my neighbor’s yard paint odd, jerking shadows on
the blinds. But when I peeked through the front window, the city of New Orleans was
fast asleep—well, at least my corner of it. A few miles away, the French Quarter would
still be filled with lights, music spilling out of the doorways, and the raucous,
drunken voices of tourists and locals alike. But here, on my narrow street, the sherbet
colored houses were locked up tight, the windows dark.
Another floorboard groaned behind me, and goose bumps rose on my skin. I leaned back
from the window as a shadow moved across the wall. One that was way too fluid to be
the tree. My muscles tensed, and I spun around in a
Gotcha!
rush—stupid, considering the last thing I’d want to do with a weapon-wielding intruder
was startle him. But, of course, nothing was in my small living room except the things
that were always present—the sharp-cornered New York furniture that was too modern
for this house and the mostly blank canvases in the corner that served as a constant
reminder of what I couldn’t do anymore.
I used to paint. Now I was an expert at staring at blank white space.
Probably because I couldn’t freaking sleep long enough to give my brain any kind of
creative reboot. No, instead of resting, I was up in the middle of the night chasing
ghosts—actually hoping one was there. Pathetic.
I leaned against the wall and ran a hand over my face. This was ridiculous. Next I’d
be buying an Ouija board and inviting friends over to play Light as a Feather Stiff
as a Board. I needed to stop doing this to myself.
But as I stood there with my eyes closed, I got that prickly awareness again, like
I was being watched. Was that the breathing sound again?
Whoosh, ahhh
. In. Out.
I couldn’t open my eyes, and my heart pulsed in my throat. Okay, maybe I was losing
it. Sleep deprivation could cause hallucinations and paranoia, right? My gran would
say that wasn’t it. She’d told me when I was young that old houses held old souls.
Just make your mind quiet and maybe you’ll hear them
, she’d say. Back then, the thought excited me more than frightened me. Maybe because
Gran had given me the St. Benedict medal that I’ve worn around my neck every day since
I was seven. She’d told me it protected me from evil spirits, and I took Gran’s word
as law. After all, she was the expert. She’d made quite a living selling her candles,
catholic saint medals, and
gris-gris
pouches at her little shop in the Quarter to help protect people from those things.
And besides Gran’s word, I thought I had my own evidence. Because in those early years,
there’d been times I’d sensed the magic in the air, the otherness surrounding me.
I’d heard whispers, echoes of distance voices when I was alone. My mom often caught
me in the middle of the night, talking to my father who’d died when I was eight. Gran
had called me sensitive. My mother had called me troubled. And when she’d plopped
me down in a therapist office, they’d found a label for those odd feelings and behaviors—grief,
loneliness, a little girl missing the father she’d loved.
They’d put me on medication. Soon after, the voices had quieted, that spark of energy
humming at the edges of my awareness had gone dark. My father had been lost to me
for good. I’d been fixed. Sad. But fixed.
Or so I’d thought. Then I’d come home to New Orleans and had felt that weird energy
quietly buzzing in the background—like it’d simply been waiting for me to return and
embrace it again. But I was beginning to think it was simply false hope—or a straight
up mental breakdown in progress.
Because over the last few months, I’d found myself wishing Gran’s beliefs were the
truth, that if I tried hard enough, I could call forth Harris and ask him all the
questions that had run on loop in my brain for the last year. That maybe if I had
some closure, I could paint again. Sleep again.
Do
something.
I’d even gone to one of the mediums who set up shop in the Quarter near my gran’s
shop. Talk about a complete waste of time. She’d said she couldn’t help me and had
given me my money back. She hadn’t even bothered to fake it.
He will come to you when he’s ready, miss.
Bull. Shit.
Blurring The Lines
by Roni Loren
ROUGH DRAFT by Mari Carr
Capture, bondage and fantasies fulfilled.
It’s all fun and games until someone gets killed.
Bestselling crime novelist Jett Lewis is stumbling over a wicked case of writer’s
block, his fast-flowing words having run dry. His publisher’s screaming “deadline”,
the fans are ready to riot, and Jett just wants to disappear. His friend Carissa suggests
he get away, clear his head…get laid. And she has just the ticket. Literally. Two
passes to Eden, an exclusive island paradise. Recently sans girlfriend, Jett convinces
Carissa to go with him, and the resort is more than either of them bargained for—especially
when the simple beach trip turns to murder. Thrust into a plot sinister enough to
rival Jett’s books, the couple embarks on a search for the killer. The most shocking
revelation of all might be their mutual attraction…and how much Jett and Carissa love
working
undercover
.
Excerpt
“Why are you here, Carissa?”
She stopped trying to break free of his grip. She tried to turn her head once more,
but Jett merely tightened his grip in her hair. The tug on her tresses had another,
more sensual effect, however. Her voice was breathless when she asked, “What do you
mean?”
“Roan said you were new. What brought you to the dungeon? What are you looking for?”
She laughed softly. “Shouldn’t that be obvious? Sex.”
“You’re a beautiful woman. I hardly think it would be difficult for you to find a
man to share your bed. You don’t need this dungeon for that.”
“You’re right. I don’t. I want more.”
Jett loved her honesty. Loosening his grip, he stroked her hair lightly before closing
his fingers again tightly. He applied more pressure, enjoying her heated response
to the pain.
Carissa moaned quietly, then asked, “Who are you?”
“My name doesn’t matter. You’ll call me Sir.”
She shivered at the title. Jett fought to restrain a grin.
“Answer my question, my love. Why are you here?”
She took her time, choosing her words carefully. Jett had always respected Carissa’s
cautious nature, the way she thought before speaking or acting.
“I want to see if…I think I might be…”
She struggled with the word. Jett wasn’t surprised. Carissa was too independent to
release her grip on the reins for long.
“Submissive?”
She released a breath. “Yes, but I think it will be hard for me to…I mean…I don’t
think I’ll submit easily.”
He chuckled. “I like a challenge.”
Carissa stiffened at the sound of his laughter. “Do I know you?”
He’d nearly revealed himself. Until he convinced her he was the right man to indulge
her fantasy, he couldn’t let her know it was him. Carissa would never risk their friendship
on what she would think was just sex. He deepened his voice once more. “No.”
She didn’t seem convinced, but mercifully she let it slide. “I can’t let a man drag
me around on a leash.”
Jett grimaced. The asshole
had
scared her, given her a bad impression of what it meant to submit. “I don’t drag
women around.”
“He was cruel to her.”
Jett wanted to go find Gregory and beat the shit out of the man. “The only pain I
give would bring you pleasure.”
“Even if I did something wrong? I’ve never done this before. I don’t know how—”
“I would like to teach you. How long are you staying at Eden?”
“A week.”
“Give me the week. Promise to be my submissive and I’ll show you exactly how incredible
it can be to put yourself in the hands of a man whose only goal is to give you as
many orgasms as you can stand.”
She laughed. “Orgasms sound nice.”
Carissa wasn’t shy about asking for what she wanted. It was a refreshing change, given
his last few girlfriends, who preferred to play games and make him guess what they
wanted.
“Should we start your lessons?”
“Now?”
Carissa’s courage was faltering in the face of making her fantasy a reality.
Jett lifted the hand wrapped around her waist to her breast. Cupping it, he pressed
firmly, applying pressure until he heard her gasp.
“Now.”
Rough Draft
by Mari Carr
Now Available from Samhain Publishing
Dangerous Series
Ink & Iron Series
Midnight Playground Series
Celestial Seductions Series
Wasteland Continuity Series
Now Available from Bantam/Delta
Exotica: Seven Days of Kama Sutra, Nine Days of Arabian Nights
Now Available from Harlequin Spice
***
Written as Eve Berlin
Now Available from Berkley Heat
***
Also From Eden Bradley
From The Smutketeers - A Kinky Christmas Carol
New York Times & USA Today Bestselling author Eden Bradley
writes dark, edgy erotica and erotic romance for Bantam/Delta, Harlequin Spice and
HQN, Berkley Heat (as both Eden Bradley and Eve Berlin), and Samhain Publishing. Two
of her books have been Romantic Times Top Picks, and her novel FORBIDDEN FRUIT was
profiled in Cosmopolitan Magazine's Red Hot Reads column in 2008. More recently her
BDSM book THE DARK GARDEN hit the top paperback fiction charts in the UK. She has
received or been nominated for numerous awards, including the Holt Medallion and the
Passionate Plume, and several of her books have been RT Book Reviews Top Picks. Her
books have been translated into German, French, Romanian, Portuguese, Spanish, Italian,
Czech, Polish and Japanese.
As someone who has been involved in BDSM practice for much of her adult life, she
relates in particular to her BDSM and kink stories, infusing them with her own truth
about kink practice from her life experiences.
Eden has appeared regularly on Playboy Radio's 'Night Calls' and the Hollywood In
the Flesh readings. She loves art, shoes, tattoos, her Boston Terrier puppy, reading
smutty books, chocolate and sex, of course, not necessarily in that order.
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