A lifelong reader with a taste for adventure, Brynley Blake writes the kind of books she likes to read: steamy contemporary romances featuring smart, sassy heroines with a sense of humor and strong, dominant alpha males who love their women a little feisty. She loves rainy days, books, worn-in jeans, hot coffee, cold beer, red wine, exploring new places, and happily ever afters. When she’s not writing, you can usually find her cheering on her kids at their activities, hanging out with friends, or crossing things off her bucket list. She writes contemporary and erotic romance as Brynley Blake and Brynley Bush.
In Timeless, a novella in my Black Brothers series (writing as Brynley Bush), FBI agent Ariana McKnight decides to kick off the New Year and a new her by attending a BDSM-themed weekend retreat. This is the year she’s going to find a man who’s strong enough to possess her, a man she can surrender to, and who can make her forget about Marcus Dunn, the man who owned her body and broker her heart ten years ago. It’s the perfect way to spend New Year’s Eve. She can explore what it’s like, and what she likes, without any strings attached, and she won’t run into anyone she knows since it’s in Denver. Her best friend knows the organizer, and the event is sure to be safe and classy. What could go possibly go wrong?
I walk into the great room where the New Year’s Eve party is being held. Although it looks kind of like a nightclub with dim lighting, throbbing music, and people mingling and laughing, the assortment of equipment—from huge X-shaped structures that I’ve read are called St. Andrews crosses to padded benches and hooks on the walls—is an unsettling reminder that it’s not.
First things first. I go to the scarred wooden bar and order a whiskey. According to the bartender, there’s a one alcoholic drink limit at play parties, so I figure I’d better make the most of it. I drink it in one gulp, set the empty glass on the bar and then wander around, taking it all in. There are people on the small dance floor, which seems normal enough, as well as several stages set up around the room where demonstrations are taking place.
I watch, fascinated, as a man in a long leather coat that’s opened to reveal a smooth, muscled chest wields a flogger over the back and buttocks of a pretty blonde who’s chained to a St. Andrew’s cross, her tanned skin turning a dusty rose as the leather strands kiss her bared flesh. I give a little shiver of apprehension mixed with anticipation, pressing my thighs together as my vivid imagination sets my own nerve endings on fire as I imagine what it would feel like to be chained there helplessly as a man warms my skin so erotically.
“It’s quite sensual, isn’t it?” I’m so involved in the scene in front of me that I jump at the low voice near my ear. I turn my head and look into the handsome face of a man who looks like he walked straight out of a Calvin Klein ad—blond, All-American good looks, hard body, and penetrating blue eyes. He’s a bit younger than me, but he has an air of confidence and authority about him that leaves no question that he’s a Dom. Could I kiss him at midnight? Hmmm…definitely. I nod, suddenly at a loss for words.
“What’s your name?” he asks kindly.
“Ariana, but my friends call me Ari.”
“Well, Ari then, as I hope we’ll be friends, it’s nice to meet you.” His smile is warm and it sets me immediately at ease.
We talk for a few minutes, and I learn that his name is Michael, he’s from Portland, and he’s a paramedic. I tell him I’m originally from Virginia and currently live in Texas, but I leave out the part about my job. I suddenly want more than anything to see how this goes without anything screwing it up.
“Do you like the flogger?” he asks as casually as if he’s asking if I like coffee.
“Um, I don’t know,” I admit. “This is my first time. But it looks interesting.”
He smiles at my admission and it lights up his entire face. He’s amazingly attractive. How did I get lucky enough to meet this gorgeous, nice guy right off the bat?
“Would you like to try it? Maybe pick out a flogger and see if you like the feel of it?”
When I hesitate, he adds encouragingly with the hint of a smile, “We’re in a room full of people. All you have to do is say ‘red’ and an army of monitors will be there faster than you can blink.” He cups my chin in his hand, bringing my gaze to his. “I promise I won’t hurt you.” His voice drops an octave. “That is, unless you want me to.”
I swallow hard as butterflies flutter tentatively in my belly. Do I? “Yes, I’d like to try it,” I whisper.
I follow him over to a wall where a variety of floggers are displayed, and he straightforwardly explains the differences between them—how the wider strands, called falls, feel more thuddy, and the narrower falls deliver more of a sting. Apparently, what the flogger is constructed of makes a difference as well, and I learn that suede is the least painful and oiled leather the most. At Michael’s suggestion, I choose a black and red suede one with a thick braided hilt, and with more than a little trepidation, I follow him to one of the padded benches.
“Is it okay if I restrain you?” he asks.
My stomach drops to my toes. My pulse is racing and my palms feel slightly sweaty, but this is what I came for. I nod.
“Say yes or no,” he instructs.
“Yes,” I say. It comes out louder than I intended, and I flush with embarrassment.
Then his hand is on my upper back, pressing me forward until my chest is flush with the padded surface of the bench, my left cheek resting against the cool leather. He gently takes one of my wrists and fastens a leather cuff that’s attached to the bench around it, and then repeats the process with my other wrist. I pull against the restraints, testing them. My heart beats a little faster as I realize I can’t move my arms at all. Oh God.
I can feel Michael move behind me and then he flips the short skirt of my dress up, exposing my ass. Oh crap! I’m wearing nothing under the dress except a sexy, black scrap of a thong —it had seemed to fit the party’s pirate theme when I put it on—and I feel utterly exposed. I squeeze my eyes closed, trying not to think about the fact that everyone who walks by can see my bare butt. I can feel the cool air of the room whisper across my skin and then Michael’s hands are on me, kneading and stroking each cheek until I feel myself begin to relax.
He removes his hand, and seconds later I feel the thud of leather against the warmed flesh of my buttocks. It’s pleasurably noticeable but not painful at all, and the rhythmic dull impact of the soft leather against my bare skin lulls me into a slightly foggy-headed stupor, like when I get a massage.
“Ah, there she is!”
Gavin’s distinct drawl yanks me straight out of my blissful state of relaxation. My eyes fly open. Two pairs of masculine legs fill my vision—one muscular pair clad in black with an unmistakably large bulge at the crotch and the other pair slimmer and ensconced in black leather boots. The boots disappear, and Gavin’s face appears.
“Looks like you already found someone to show you a thing or two,” he says with an impish grin. He inclines his head toward my bare posterior. “Michael’s a good guy, but I wanted to introduce you to the Dom I was telling you about.”
Another face appears next to his and warm cognac eyes meet mine. I’d know those eyes anywhere. After all, they’ve haunted my dreams for the last ten years. I am totally fucked!
Up For Grabs:
First things first. I go to the scarred wooden bar and order a whiskey. According to the bartender, there’s a one alcoholic drink limit at play parties, so I figure I’d better make the most of it. I drink it in one gulp, set the empty glass on the bar and then wander around, taking it all in. There are people on the small dance floor, which seems normal enough, as well as several stages set up around the room where demonstrations are taking place.
I watch, fascinated, as a man in a long leather coat that’s opened to reveal a smooth, muscled chest wields a flogger over the back and buttocks of a pretty blonde who’s chained to a St. Andrew’s cross, her tanned skin turning a dusty rose as the leather strands kiss her bared flesh. I give a little shiver of apprehension mixed with anticipation, pressing my thighs together as my vivid imagination sets my own nerve endings on fire as I imagine what it would feel like to be chained there helplessly as a man warms my skin so erotically.
“It’s quite sensual, isn’t it?” I’m so involved in the scene in front of me that I jump at the low voice near my ear. I turn my head and look into the handsome face of a man who looks like he walked straight out of a Calvin Klein ad—blond, All-American good looks, hard body, and penetrating blue eyes. He’s a bit younger than me, but he has an air of confidence and authority about him that leaves no question that he’s a Dom. Could I kiss him at midnight? Hmmm…definitely. I nod, suddenly at a loss for words.
“What’s your name?” he asks kindly.
“Ariana, but my friends call me Ari.”
“Well, Ari then, as I hope we’ll be friends, it’s nice to meet you.” His smile is warm and it sets me immediately at ease.
We talk for a few minutes, and I learn that his name is Michael, he’s from Portland, and he’s a paramedic. I tell him I’m originally from Virginia and currently live in Texas, but I leave out the part about my job. I suddenly want more than anything to see how this goes without anything screwing it up.
“Do you like the flogger?” he asks as casually as if he’s asking if I like coffee.
“Um, I don’t know,” I admit. “This is my first time. But it looks interesting.”
He smiles at my admission and it lights up his entire face. He’s amazingly attractive. How did I get lucky enough to meet this gorgeous, nice guy right off the bat?
“Would you like to try it? Maybe pick out a flogger and see if you like the feel of it?”
When I hesitate, he adds encouragingly with the hint of a smile, “We’re in a room full of people. All you have to do is say ‘red’ and an army of monitors will be there faster than you can blink.” He cups my chin in his hand, bringing my gaze to his. “I promise I won’t hurt you.” His voice drops an octave. “That is, unless you want me to.”
I swallow hard as butterflies flutter tentatively in my belly. Do I? “Yes, I’d like to try it,” I whisper.
I follow him over to a wall where a variety of floggers are displayed, and he straightforwardly explains the differences between them—how the wider strands, called falls, feel more thuddy, and the narrower falls deliver more of a sting. Apparently, what the flogger is constructed of makes a difference as well, and I learn that suede is the least painful and oiled leather the most. At Michael’s suggestion, I choose a black and red suede one with a thick braided hilt, and with more than a little trepidation, I follow him to one of the padded benches.
“Is it okay if I restrain you?” he asks.
My stomach drops to my toes. My pulse is racing and my palms feel slightly sweaty, but this is what I came for. I nod.
“Say yes or no,” he instructs.
“Yes,” I say. It comes out louder than I intended, and I flush with embarrassment.
Then his hand is on my upper back, pressing me forward until my chest is flush with the padded surface of the bench, my left cheek resting against the cool leather. He gently takes one of my wrists and fastens a leather cuff that’s attached to the bench around it, and then repeats the process with my other wrist. I pull against the restraints, testing them. My heart beats a little faster as I realize I can’t move my arms at all. Oh God.
I can feel Michael move behind me and then he flips the short skirt of my dress up, exposing my ass. Oh crap! I’m wearing nothing under the dress except a sexy, black scrap of a thong —it had seemed to fit the party’s pirate theme when I put it on—and I feel utterly exposed. I squeeze my eyes closed, trying not to think about the fact that everyone who walks by can see my bare butt. I can feel the cool air of the room whisper across my skin and then Michael’s hands are on me, kneading and stroking each cheek until I feel myself begin to relax.
He removes his hand, and seconds later I feel the thud of leather against the warmed flesh of my buttocks. It’s pleasurably noticeable but not painful at all, and the rhythmic dull impact of the soft leather against my bare skin lulls me into a slightly foggy-headed stupor, like when I get a massage.
“Ah, there she is!”
Gavin’s distinct drawl yanks me straight out of my blissful state of relaxation. My eyes fly open. Two pairs of masculine legs fill my vision—one muscular pair clad in black with an unmistakably large bulge at the crotch and the other pair slimmer and ensconced in black leather boots. The boots disappear, and Gavin’s face appears.
“Looks like you already found someone to show you a thing or two,” he says with an impish grin. He inclines his head toward my bare posterior. “Michael’s a good guy, but I wanted to introduce you to the Dom I was telling you about.”
Another face appears next to his and warm cognac eyes meet mine. I’d know those eyes anywhere. After all, they’ve haunted my dreams for the last ten years. I am totally fucked!
Marcus Dunn came into my life ten years ago and possessed me body and soul, introducing me to a world of dark and forbidden pleasures before disappearing without a word.
I’ve never forgiven him.
Or forgotten him.
Walking away from Ariana McKnight was the hardest thing I’ve ever done.
But running into her after all these years, handcuffed to a spanking bench, has me forgetting everything I promised myself ten years ago.
I still can’t have her.
But I can’t stay away.
One tough FBI agent who longs to give her power away—just not to him.
One former Navy SEAL who wants to take it, but can offer her nothing in return.
One snowbound weekend in the middle of nowhere with no choice but to resolve their unfinished business.
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Timeless sounds like a great book! Thank you for the chance. I put it on my TRL! Happy New Year!
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