Thanks so much for having me here today, Cherie J
When I wrote the first book in this series, I had no intention of turning this into a series, believe it or not. You see, I'm a panster. My muse will throw an idea at me and I simply run with it, and write what the characters tell me to. And in this case, from the minute Mistress Scarlett entered the scene I knew she had a story. I didn't know what that was until this happened:
“I would suggest you take your new sub home, Master Slade, she looks exhausted. You can leave big bro here to me. I’m sure I can find something for him to do to work off that aggression in far more pleasurable ways—for me anyway.”
She smirked and stepped right into Michael’s personal space. He took several steps back until his back hit the wall. With her high heels, the top of her head fit just under his nose, yet Michael swallowed hard several times, his eyes fixated on the Domme’s bright red lips. She tapped his nose with one perfectly manicured fingernail and then ran that nail down over his lips and across his clavicle, before she stepped back and cupped his groin with a considering look.
“What do you reckon, big boy? Up to playing with the big girls, or are you too chicken?”
Michael turned all sorts of interesting shades of green and Scarlett laughed.
“Guess you are. If you change your mind, you know where to find me.” She winked at Laura, and Slade felt her silent chuckles under his arm. Her brother’s gaze was too focused on Scarlett’s swaying behind as the Domme sashayed out of the room with much more swagger than she usually showed. Slade grinned to himself. Trust Scarlett to put up a show.
“Fuck, is she for real?” Michael asked when the heavy door had swung shut, blocking the view of Scarlett’s departure.
Just like that, there was my story and the series was born. I never thought I'd write a Femdom story, but Scarlett is such a great character, she needed to be written. Mike, too, is a complicated man, and their relationship dynamic is very unique.
It was such fun to bring the tough undercover cop to his knees, emotionally and physically. Mike does not submit easily or gracefully, and he only does so to Scarlett.
These two need each other and together they heat up the pages and go on an intensely emotional journey that made me cry buckets when I was writing it.
So, have a glass of water, a fan and a box of tissues at the ready when you read their story. You might just need all three. J
[Siren Allure: Erotic Consensual BDSM Romance, voyeurism, shibari, cropping, knife play, sex toys, HEA]
Tough undercover cop Mike Anderson does not submit to anyone, let alone a pint-size bundle of curves with a Mistress complex, who stands for everything he despises about BDSM. Thrown into a world where the rules make no sense to him, he has to rely on his instincts, and they all scream one thing—submit to His Lady.
Scarlett Simpson is one of the most feared Mistresses at Club Spectrum, and she has a score to settle. Mike's atrocious behavior needs addressing. If only she wasn't so attracted to the big hunk of a man, and he didn't prove so utterly responsive. As she explores his boundaries through Shibari and knife play, Scarlett can't help but get emotionally involved.
Submission freely given is a gift she treasures, but can she trust Mike to stay around once the case is over? When danger comes knocking, will Mike be able to protect her, or will this end in tragedy?
Cops had handcuffs. Time to improvise, and to get back control of their dynamic. Lord knows she’d needed him to take charge before, and Mike had risen to the challenge with cunt-destroying efficiency. Scarlett was deliciously sore in all the right places, the physical aches a welcome distraction from the pain that threatened to slice her heart in half.
Men never went quite far enough when she gave them free reign, which was why she so rarely did. Mike, however, had no such compunctions. He had taken her to heights of ecstasy this morning, and Scarlett’s insides tightened in need at the remembered pleasure. Even when he chose to submit to her, he never lost that exciting edge that meant she had to push him more. He would always keep her on her toes. Scarlett frowned at the turn of her thoughts. She didn’t want a relationship, did she?
Mike certainly wouldn’t. He was only with her to protect her. To read any more into this was a fool hardy exercise, yet Scarlett couldn’t suppress that kernel of hope and yearning that had been planted in her heart ever since Slade had found his Laura.
They were so blissfully happy together, after all. If Slade could have it all then why not her?
Mike half turned over, and mumbled something in his sleep that Scarlett couldn’t quite catch, but it galvanized her into action.
Where would Mike keep his work gear? The wardrobe showed a carefully pressed dress uniform and rows of color-coded shirts, tees, and jeans in various shades of blue. The next door she opened revealed sports gear, jackets, and coats, but there was no sign of his regular uniform. Then again, the men in his team hadn’t been uniformed police officers. Scarlett remembered that little tidbit of information now. They had arrived in unmarked police cars and had been armed to the teeth—definitely not ordinary police officers.
Her heart beat faster as she remembered the handgun Mike had produced from nowhere. Scarlett had had no idea that he’d been packing anything, and she highly doubted Slade knew either. As security conscious as he was, guns of any description were not allowed on the premises of Club Spectrum.
The drawers under the bed caught her attention. Pulling one open, she whistled through her teeth. Carefully boxed away in their locked see-through cases were several fire arms, knives, and other less deadly, yet by no means less effective weaponry.
Several sets of handcuffs were also in there, and Scarlett grinned. God bless a tidy man. This made her plans much easier.
She snatched up two pairs, pushed the drawer shut, and looked up to find Mike watching her with a half smile.
“Feeling better then, My Lady?”
Scarlett twirled the handcuffs around her index fingers and fixed him with her best intimidating stare.
“Did I give you permission to speak to me, brass?” she asked, and Mike’s grin deepened. This was not the reaction she was expecting, and she raised one eyebrow and lifted her right leg onto the bed.
Cool air hit her moist pussy, and Mike’s eyes darkened as his gaze zeroed in on the unimpeded view she was allowing him to have. The sheet covering his groin tented to her satisfaction and he shook his head and groaned.
“Pull the sheet down and let me see what’s mine,” she said. The never far away shimmer of arousal she felt when she was near him burst into flame. Her nipples hardened against the flannel of the shirt she’d shrugged into when she’d gotten up, and her cunt grew wet.
He noticed of course. Scarlett glimpsed the hint of triumph in his eyes before he masked it and held out his wrist to her.
“You do realize, My Lady, that using a cop’s own handcuffs on him is a recognized offence. As is snooping around in his house without his permission or suitable warrant. I might just have to place you under house arrest.”
His voice dropped lower as he spoke and Scarlett’s stomach dropped right with it. That voice was just sex-on-legs, instant panty-dropping material and this cocky male knew that.
Scarlett chose not to answer him and busied herself by snapping the first set of handcuffs on his wrist and then the headboard. His smirk got deeper when she knelt on the bed and reached across him to fasten the other set.
“I could get out of these in seconds, if I wanted to.” His hot breath feathered across her neck and his stubble scraped the sensitive skin there. Scarlett’s hair cocooned them both in an intimate caress when she pulled back slightly and looked down on him.
“Yes, but you’re not going to, are you, brass?”
She reached down to grasp his hard shaft and Mike’s pupils dilated to such a degree his eyes were almost black. Only a faint line of brilliant blue remained around them, and Scarlett sat up more until the ends of her hair trailed across his nipples. The little flat buds hardened and she continued the feather-like tickles down his torso. Mike’s sharp inhalation told her that she was getting to him, as much as his pulsing cock under her fingertips did.
His hips rose and he tried to thrust into her hands, but Scarlett simply withdrew her fingers with a laugh and continued the slow torture of teasing him with her long tresses.
Mike’s skin rippled, his breaths grew heavy, and his legs twitched until she straddled them and pinned him down with her bodyweight.
Instantly he ceased moving, and a warm glow spread through her at his compliance. He could shove her slight weight off his tree-trunk legs in seconds, yet he chose not to, and a heavy rush of feminine power enveloped Scarlett.
Submission freely given was a gift to be treasured and could not be rivalled as an aphrodisiac. Her pussy lips left wet trails along his legs, and the hair on his legs tickled her sensitive flesh. She rocked herself up and down his thighs a few times, enjoying the sensation of his hair-roughed skin against her clit and Mike yanked at his restraints.
Scarlett smiled at that hoarse exclamation and wrapped the ends of her hair around his cock and balls in silken bondage.
“Oh, fuck we most definitely will, but only at my say so, boy.” She sat up straighter, which tightened her hair around his cock and sac and Mike groaned low in his throat.
Drops of pre-cum coated his slit and his spicy musk turned Scarlett on even more.
“You’ve been holding out on me, my boy. You’re not just an ordinary cop, are you?”
Mike didn’t answer and she sat up more, until her scalp tingled with the pressure and the strands dug into Mike’s skin.
Their gazes met and held and she asked again.
“Who the fuck are you, Mike?”
Glutton for punishment would be a good description for Doris... at least that's what she hears on an almost daily basis when people find out that she has a brood of nine children, ranging from adult to toddler and lives happily in a far too small house, cluttered with children, pets, dust bunnies, and one very understanding and supportive husband. Domestic goddess she is not.
There is always something better to do after all, like working on the latest manuscript and trying not to scare the locals even more than usual by talking out loud to the voices in her head. Her characters tend to be pretty insistent to get their stories told, and you will find Doris burning the midnight oil on a regular basis. Only time to get any peace and quiet and besides, sleep is for wimps.
She likes to spin sensual, sassy, and sexy tales involving alpha heroes to die for, and heroines who give as good as they get. From contemporary to paranormal, BDSM to F/F, and Ménage, haunting love stories are guaranteed.