Leave your inhibitions at the door…and turn the page.
New Orleans’s Hotel Beaudelaire isn’t just a critically acclaimed 5-star establishment. For New Year’s Eve, it becomes a Den of Sin, and its owner extends invitations to a few discriminating guests to help make their sexual fantasies come true.
Starting December 6, indulge in a new erotica or erotic romance novella each Friday until December 27. Each has a different couple (or trio) and different kinks.
December 6: Forbidden Rendezvous by Mel Blue
December 13: Ménage à Troys by Holley Trent
December 20: Wicked Surrender by Ambrielle Kirk
December 27: Redeeming the Amazon by L. V. Lewis
To learn more about this shared world series and its authors, and to access purchasing information, please visit DenofSinSeries.com.
December 13, 2013
Length: Novella (~24,000 words)
Setting: New Orleans
Subgenre: Erotic contemporary – mmf ménage
Heat level: HOT
Warnings: Graphic sex and adult language
Collection: Den of Sin
Buy here: Preorder at All Romance eBooks,Amazon, Barnes and Noble, Kobo,Smashwords
Several times per year, New Orleans’s Hotel Beaudelaire invites a select few guests to make their sexual fantasies come true.
Eve and Brent Troy have been married three months and have yet to consummate their union. Faced with losing her claim to her family property, busy surgeon Eve had to marry before her thirtieth birthday. Brent was single and convenient, and more importantly, he said yes.
Now, she wants to light a flame under their cold marriage, but they’re strangers and don’t know how to connect. A New Year’s weekend at The Beaudelaire is supposed to help them do just that. When they arrive, they learn the tool they’ve been equipped with comes in form of Eve’s best friend and fellow doctor Remy Kelly. He knows Eve’s marriage is a sham, and is intent on claiming her for himself. But, when faced with Eve’s strapping new husband who comes onto Remy’s radar as exactly the kind of alpha male he likes, he has a battle of conscience. He wants to take Eve home, not Brent, but for some reason they seem like a package deal.
At The Beaudelaire anything goes, so instead of two people letting down their guards, three forge bonds. That’s all well and good for the weekend, but what will shake out of their tentative ménage à trois when it’s time to go home?
Brent didn’t answer, but he didn’t need to.He didn’t stop Remy when he eased back and pushed the band of Eve’s long, stretchy skirt past her hips, nor did Brent object when Remy nudged her lace panties down to the floor and had her step out of them.
Brent just kept his hands at her waist and made his presence known without asserting it.
But when Remy nudged her ankles apart and began kissing up her thigh, Brent’s deep voice was in her ear as he whispered, “Do you want this?”
Did she? This was decadent and sinful and selfish…and a once-in-a-lifetime event. Of course she wanted it. She couldn’t think of a thing she wanted more at this moment.
She swallowed and nodded.
“All right.” He withdrew his arms, thus pulling his warmth away from her back.
Where was he going? She didn’t want him to go. It was important he be there, though she didn’t know how.
“Eve, call my phone when you’re done. I—”
She turned and grabbed his wrists to pull him back, and the confusion in his expression broke her heart. She’d married him, not Remy. Brent had been convenient, yes, but if she hadn’t wanted him at least a little bit, she wouldn’t have asked. She had at least a little vanity, after all. “Don’t go,” she whispered, even as Remy gently turned her to face him.
Remy was already priming the engine. He knelt in front of her and rolled her clit beneath his thumb and forefinger. “Take off her shirt,” Remy said to Brent. “And her bra, if she’s wearing one. When you’re done with that, either have a seat and watch, or you can help. You’re a bit overdressed for one of those things.”
Eve could sense Brent’s uncertainty. He didn’t want to leave, but he didn’t want to share.
And she didn’t want his feelings bruised. They were here, after all, to make this marriage work. Remy was just an unexpected tool in that endeavor. The hotel literature promised to cure what ailed them but wasn’t specific as to how that would be done. She decided to trust the process.
“Brent, I’d like you to help,” she whispered, barely able to get the words out as Remy thrust his tongue into her slit.
Remy’s carnal kiss was far too distracting and had her curling her toes against the cold floor. Her body shook as she clenched her hands into fists, but still her mind was half on Brent and not fully on her pleasure. He seemed to be taking far too long to decide. Was far too tentative.
Was he really afraid to touch her, or had she trained him to believe she didn’t want to be touched?