Wednesday, February 10, 2016

The Gazillionaire & the Virgin #bdsm #eroticromance #lisabetsarai #bondage #discipline


Whoa - if you're into BDSM and erotic romance as I am - you're gonna love this.

Please welcome Lisabet and get lost in her hot, Hot, HOT release.
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The Gazillionaire and the Virgin
By Lisabet Sarai


Excessica, 2016
Contemporary BDSM erotic romance (Five flames)


Blurb:

Trust can’t be bought—it has to be earned.

When Silicon Valley entrepreneur Rachel Zelinsky meets reclusive genius Theo Moore, she finds him strangely compelling. Theo is both arrogant and socially awkward, but he has an aura of power that speaks to Rachel’s carefully-hidden submissive side. Disturbed and aroused, she tries to focus on her original objective—a deal to incorporate his Artificial Intelligence software into her company’s popular virtual world. Rachel’s not a woman who lets pleasure interfere with business, but for some reason, she can’t resist Theo’s geeky appeal.

Theo Moore can’t be bought. His past battles with poverty make him deeply suspicious of the billionaire CEO. Still, with her voluptuous curves and brilliant mind, Rachel embodies his ultimate sexual fantasy. Too bad his knowledge about sex derives from extensive research and a stash of kinky porn rather than real-world experience.

That doesn’t bother Rachel, however. In his bed—in his arms—in his bonds—she discovers the bliss of total surrender. Rachel may be Theo’s first lover, but Theo is Rachel’s first true Master—and the first man to truly touch her heart. It seems that love may harmonize their differing goals and values, until Rachel’s unwitting violation of Theo’s trust threatens to tear them apart forever.



Quotes

“Lisabet Sarai writes the most beautiful erotic prose. Her stories tease at the senses and transport you to a world of sexual pleasure.” ~ Desiree Holt, queen of BDSM erotic romance and author of Forward Pass

"I’ve always been a fan—Lisabet Sarai's erotic fiction is certain to captivate, dominate, and leave readers begging for more." ~ Alison Tyler, best-selling author of erotic BDSM memoirs Dark Secret Love and Even Deeper.

Ebook Buy Links (Print coming soon!)

Amazon US

Amazon UK

Barnes & Noble

All Romance

Kobo



About Lisabet

LISABET SARAI occasionally tackles other genres, but BDSM will always be her first love. Every one of her nine novels includes some element of power exchange, while her D/s short stories range from mildly kinky to intensely perverse.

You’ll find information and excerpts from all Lisabet’s books on her website (http://www.lisabetsarai.com/books.html), along with more than fifty free stories and lots more. At her blog Beyond Romance (http://lisabetsarai.blogspot.com), she shares her philosophy and her news and hosts lots of other great authors. She’s also on Goodreads and finally, on Twitter.

Excerpts:




(Rachel)

It won’t go away. All through the day—every day—need gnaws at my spirit. Whether I’m reading my email, meeting with my board of directors, preparing a presentation, closing a deal to acquire a promising start-up, discussing deployment of the next release with my engineering managers, I can’t shake the sense that something critical is missing. In yoga class, the aching knot just above my solar plexus doesn’t unwind, no matter how deeply I breathe. Driving to work, I have to force myself to pay attention. Otherwise, I drift off into recollections of my time with Theo—what he did, what he said, how I responded.  

I miss him, miss him dreadfully, though it’s been only four days since we were last together. We’ve Skyped every night since the weekend, but somehow that only makes the hunger worse. When I see him there on my screen, grainy and over-exposed, all I want is to touch him—to brush the unruly hair off his forehead, to stroke his cheek, to trace the line of his plump, sensitive lips with my thumb. To offer up my own mouth for him to claim it, tear off my blouse and press my tits against his solid chest, sink to my knees and beg him to take me.

I’d be more than willing to strip and perform for him, to act out whatever lewd actions he ordered, but he refuses to become involved in any sort of phone or cyber-sex. “Everyone’s listening in,” he asserts. “The government. The neighbors. What you and I do should be private.” So we chat about safe topics—our work, what we’ve been reading, where we should go for dinner next weekend. All the while, lust burns in those bright eyes of his. I know what he’s thinking. I’m thinking the same thing.

I’m not expecting him to call Thursday afternoon. The trill of my phone interrupts me as I’m giving Diane instructions for tomorrow. Still, the sound of his voice kindles a warm joy in the pit of my stomach as well as a wetness between my legs.

“Hello. Rachel?”

“Hi, Theo. What’s up?”

“I want you to come early tomorrow. Around noon.”

“I—um—I really can’t. I’ve got an all-day meeting up in San Francisco, some investors from India.”

“Cancel it.”

“What? I can’t do that. These guys have come half-way around the world to talk to me about a franchise deal. Think of the potential profit! More than a billion people, a soaring GDP, and Internet growth that’s doubling every year…”

It’s the wrong thing to say. I realize this the moment the statement’s out of my mouth.

“So you care more about money than about me.” Not a whining complaint, but a dry statement of the facts, at least as Theo sees them.

“No, of course not, but I can’t put my personal life above my business…”

“You should.” I can picture his face, the stubborn set of his jaw as he retreats, distancing himself from me. “But never mind. Of course you’re too busy. I should have expected that.”

“Wait! Wait, don’t hang up, Theo.” I struggle to keep him engaged. “What’s so important about tomorrow noon?”

“I want you to meet my sister. Ellen. She’s free for lunch tomorrow.”

“Can’t we do it Saturday?”

“She’s flying to Jamaica for a two week vacation with her partner Saturday morning.”

“What about when she gets back?”

“She doesn’t want to leave without talking to you. She says she’s worried about me, worried about our relationship. She’s afraid you’ll hurt me, break my heart.”

I’d never hurt you, I almost say, then understand I’m doing so at that very moment. And it feels horrible, like a knife twisting in my gut.




(Theo)

The smell tells me I’m home, long before I open my eyes—a mixture of black tea, sandalwood incense, and a hint of the glue I use for my models. The air conditioner hums and in the background, I hear the soft, sedate progress of some Bach harpsichord sonata. The music sets up echoes inside my head, which feels swollen and fragile as a FabergĂ© egg.

The firmness molding my back and butt suggests I’m stretched out on the bed. Have I been asleep? I don’t recall lying down, indeed, don’t remember anything for the space of several breaths. Then it all comes crashing back, a tsunami of embarrassment, fear and regret. The fund raiser. Rachel. Oh, my God!

“Theo? Are you awake?”

She keeps her voice low, as though she understands the pain bouncing around in the hollows of my skull. Memory flutters back in bits and pieces. A dizzy, endless journey. Struggling not to vomit on Rachel’s upholstery. I crack open my eyelids, squinting into the welcome dimness.

“Rachel?” I rasp, my mouth dry as the Santa Anas. All I can see is the featureless ceiling. “What happened?”

When I raise my head, seeking her, the room spins and my stomach objects strenuously. She’s there, though, leaning toward me, seated on one of my dining room chairs, which she’s dragged to the side of the bed. Her curls have come loose from the glittering clips she used to tame them, and her make-up is smudged. She’s unspeakably gorgeous.

Despite my sorry state, the headache and the cotton mouth and the dizziness, my cock stirs inside the monkey suit I’m apparently still wearing. Ah, the tenaciousness of lust!

“How are you feeling?” The concern I hear in her tone has an immediate healing effect.

“Pretty rocky, but I suppose I’m all right.” I ease myself into a half-sit, propped against my pillow.

“Here, drink this.” She hands me a glass full of fizzing liquid.

I swallow it down, ignoring the protests from my gut. Despite the medicinal taste, I feel slightly more human after consuming it.

Rachel leans back and contemplates me, eyebrows drawn together into a frown. My dick hardens further while a blush climbs into my cheeks. I feel like a naughty schoolboy. The sensation is not entirely unpleasant.

“I told you to go easy on the champagne.”

“I should have listened to you,” I admit. “But I was so nervous.”

“I know,” she says. “I know. I think the stress had as much to do with your collapse as the alcohol.”

I nod. “I used to faint, back when I was at school—when things got really bad. When I couldn’t handle a situation, that was my final escape. Finally my parents pulled me out and got me a tutor. It hasn’t happened since.” 

“I’m sorry I pushed you so hard, Theo. I should have known better.”

Her hand claims mine, in a gesture so casual and natural it seems unconscious. Does she have any idea what she’s doing to me?  Still, remarkably, I have no urge to pull away.

“You were doing so well, though. I was so proud of you.” She gives my fingers a squeeze. I squeeze back, amazed that I can be so comfortable with her touching me.

“But now I’ve disappointed you, I imagine.” I try sitting up straighter. It’s awkward with only one hand free. I want to adjust the swollen lump pressing against my zipper, but of course I don’t dare. “And the donors—they’re probably all laughing their millionaire heads off at poor, pathetic Theo Moore.”

“Not at all. Everyone was quite worried about you. Roger Varley wanted to call an ambulance, but I thought you’d really rather go home.”

“You were right. Thank you. But how did you get me up to the second floor and into bed?”

“It wasn’t easy.” Her whole face lights up when she laughs. “You’re a big guy. The gardener helped me bundle you up the stairs. I fished the key out of your trouser pocket.”

The concept of her hand wriggling into my pants, her heat warming my body—it’s  too much. My cock surges, threatening a premature explosion. I’ve got to get Rachel Zelinsky out of here, before I really embarrass myself.



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4 comments:

  1. Hi Lisabet! Always enjoy the snippets you share! greenshamrock at cox dot net :)

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Hi, Colleen!

      Glad you found me over here!

      Delete
  2. Hey, Tina,

    Thanks so much for helping me get the word out.

    The post looks great!

    xxoo

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. My pleasure, Lisabet - come back any time. :)

      Delete

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