It’s not cheating if your husband wants you to do it…right?
Different people might have different answers to that question, but for Meredith — heroine of the latest A. Vivian Vane title, What She Wants — it’s a resounding “go for it, girl!”
That’s because Meredith is a woman with needs, and “What She Wants” is a celebration of those needs, from her BDSM-tinged hookup with a stranger in a sleazy motel to the arms of her loving husband back home. Teased, fucked, and thoroughly satisfied by both, Meredith’s a woman who lets her passions run wild…and with a little help from her understanding husband, she’s able to have exactly What She Wants.
Call it a celebration of female sexuality. Call it a love story about real understanding between a husband and wife. Call it a kinky fetish-fest of fuckery and female orgasm — it’s all of those things and more, and right now it’s on sale at Amazon, Smashwords, Kobo, and Barnes & Noble!
For a sneak preview of What She Wants, read on below the break…
Sneak Preview – “What She Wants” by A. Vivian Vane
“Say it, Meredith. Tell me what you are.”
Meredith made herself look up at the man; forced herself to meet his sharp blue eyes. “I’m a whore,” Meredith whispered. Trembling, kneeling topless on a hotel bed in red stockings and garters with a matching belt, she kept her hands clenched and still at her side and tried not to flinch as she felt the cheap mattress shift beneath her nervous weight.
CRACK! went the palm of the man’s hand on Meredith’s right breast. She cried out—she couldn’t help that much. The outline of a hand, red and raw, sprang into instant life on her pale skin. Water blurred Meredith’s vision as tears sprang up in her eyes.
“If you call yourself a whore again,” the man said, his voice cool and even, “I will hit you again.” He adjusted his stance, spreading his feet slightly wider and leaning over her. He was a tall man. Even kneeling on top of a motel bed Meredith only came up to his chest. “Now,” he insisted softly, “tell me, Meredith. What are you?”
Meredith bit her lip. She knew what was coming. She knew it would hurt, too. But she needed it; needed the shame of confession and the short, sharp crack of another slap; the lance of pain that told her she was alive. Told her she was enjoying herself, the only way she knew how…