Have 5 Minutes? Free Reads!
Check out my QUICKIES page for G-rated 5-minute fantasies!
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Works-in-Progress
If you are looking for my WIPs check out my WIPS & CHAINS page.
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In Their Own Words: Meet the Characters
Meet the men and women in each of my stories! Click each title below to learn a bit more about some special people who will make you want to fall in love again…and again…and again…’cause once is never enough:
COMING IN JULY 2012! AFLAME IN CAMELOT
COMING IN MAY 2012! SOUNDING THE DEPTHS
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X-CERPTS!
Enjoy excerpts from BENDING TYME and UNSTRUNG. Nothing G-rated here…:)
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by
Maria-Claire Payne
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When Logan stopped by Esme’s room to escort her to supper, Betsy made excuses on her behalf, fooling no one.
Byron refrained from his usual sardonic wit and Logan’s jaw set, no distraction across the long evening improving his foul mood.
Esme remained in her room, alone, the floodgates bursting. Betsy, at a loss in the face of Esme’s tears, left her to her solitude, checking in with hesitant knocks as the evening shadows lengthened.
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Byron looked out of his window at the ground below. He started to leave his chamber in search of his host, but changed his mind and called instead for fresh writing materials.
Byron applied pen to paper. “She stands in the beauty of the moonlight,” he muttered, then shook his head and scratched though the line.
His door flew open, Logan’s frame filling the entryway. “She vexes me.”
Byron nodded his head. “She walks in moonlight,” he said, tapping the quill he favoured, ink staining his fingertips.
“She bewitches and bewilders me.” Logan tossed another log on the fire.
“You act as if your head is up your arse in her presence.” Byron stood up, moving back towards the window, watching the thunder clouds gather, obscuring the moonlight. “She walks in beauty…”
“What distracts you so?”
Byron pointed.
Logan squinted out into the night, sheets of rain falling now, lightning bolts illuminating the woman lifting her face to the sky.
Byron tapped his quill on the windowpane. “I wonder, does your Esme pray for a lightning bolt to strike and transport her back from whence she came?”
“The hell you say, man,” Logan cursed. Clad only in the linen drawers he wore before he had barrelled into Byron’s chamber, Logan bounded down the staircase and flung open the front doors.
Byron watched from his window.
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Esme welcomed the cool air lifting her chemise in its breezy caress, her face turned to the moonlight. Storm clouds rolled across the darkening sky, the quick release of their moisture catching her by surprise. She laughed, revelling in the chaotic weather swirling around her, the rain mingling with her tears.
Lightning crackled and thunder rumbled. Esme counted the seconds between the two, the lightning close enough to strike her, yet still she stood in the downpour, reluctant to return under Logan’s roof.
A third bolt lit up the silhouette of the man striding towards her.
Esme lifted her chin.
Logan shouted at her, but Esme shrugged. It was impossible to make out his words over the din of wind and rain. He caught her arm, bending his head close to her ear.
“Do you wish to catch your death?” His mouth so close to her ear distracted her.
Esme lifted her chin higher. “Afraid of a little rain, Lord Davenport?”
“Damn your obstinacy, woman.” Logan reached out to drag her towards the house, but Esme twisted, slipping from his arms. She stumbled, the grass and mud and slashing rain creating an unsteady surface. Logan lunged to catch her, losing his own footing as well, the pair tumbling to the ground. Logan rolled to break their fall and Esme found herself back in his arms. Again.
“You insufferable man!” Esme yelled, the rush of adrenaline at the next lightning strike fuelling the heat in her veins at the sight of him, the thin material of their saturated undergarments serving to titillate her further. She pushed herself away from him with one hand—yet her other lingered, one finger travelling down the fine trail of hair tapering from the width of his chest down his muscled torso.
Logan caught her hand. Esme jerked away, confused, pushing at him as he rose to his knees, pulling her up after him.
“Do you persist in your schemes to destroy my reputation for sport or for spite?” Logan asked, his eyes mirroring her confusion.
“I just wanted to take a walk! How am I supposed to know how fast these storms come up?” she yelled back.
“A lady does not wander about her host’s grounds without proper escort, Miss Tyme—and for certain not in her underwear in the dead of night.”
Esme felt Logan’s gaze sweeping over her, moving down her body, lingering where the fine linen clung to her curves. Esme folded her arms across her chest, covering her nipples, hard and erect in the cold wet, from his hungry gaze. Remembering his hands on her breasts distracted her…as did her hand on his belly right now…
Esme dropped her arms, standing defiant against the onslaught of wind and rain and the unrelenting heat of his aquamarine stare. Logan clenched his teeth.
Esme’s chin lifted. “Even…even if you were my highest-paying client and on speed-dial in my cell phone, I’d…I’d cancel your contracts and block all your calls and your instant messages and your stupid texts. No, I’d do better than just block you—I’d delete you, Logan Joseph Davenport. So there!”
Logan looked perplexed, a familiar sight since her appearance. Then she saw that perfect jaw-line clench again in a second gesture, fast becoming all too familiar. Esme watched him fight to control himself, wondering what he planned to do next. Her eyes widened when he leant forward, bringing his mouth down on hers—this, in spite of the passionate coupling they had shared, their first kiss.
The jolt of current running between them left Esme wondering if the lightning had found its target. Breathless, she looked into Logan’s eyes when he lifted his mouth from hers, his need as raw as her own. They tumbled back to the ground, Esme undoing the string holding his drawers in place, Logan pushing the thin material of her chemise out of his way. Esme caught her breath, feeling his strength as he moved to slide the hard length of his shaft into her. Ignoring her throbbing pussy, Esme kicked out at him, her lust tempered by her anger, not forgetting her recent tears, unwilling to relinquish control quite so quickly and easily to the lord of the manor.
Logan’s eyes widened in surprise and he hesitated just for a moment, his own anger at her absolute refusal to see reason, to bend to his will, mounting fast. Esme rolled away from him, scrambling for a foothold in the wet grass, but he moved faster, catching her right ankle, pulling her back into his arms, pinning her under his weight.
“Let me go!” she yelled, the sound lost in the wind. Her nails left bloody trails across his back before he shifted his weight to catch her hands between them.
He bent his mouth close to her ear. “Kiss me,” he whispered.
“I hate you!” Esme yelled, turning her face away into the mud.
Logan held her hands fast in one large palm, the other forcing her to look at him.
“I hate you too,” he murmured into her ear.
His lips just touching her own, Logan pressed his advantage until she succumbed to his weight. He crushed her mouth with his own, backing off when Esme bit his lower lip, reaching down instead to rub one long finger over her clit. Esme cried out, coming as soon as he slipped his fingers inside her. She laced her own fingers through his dark curls now, her tongue seeking his, that electric arc between them putting the lightning to shame.
Esme scrambled to her knees, pushing Logan down onto his back. He offered no resistance, closing his eyes against the pelting rain as Esme wrapped her hand around the length of his cock, running her fingers over the sensitive head, feeling him harden further still when she slid her hand up and down the length of his shaft, the rain keeping her motions fluid, his cock slick. Esme watched Logan’s eyes open, then widen when she slipped one finger into his ass, then she wriggled down his body and his eyes grew dark again when she took his length into her mouth and down her throat. He groaned out loud when her lips reached his balls, the sound of his ecstasy lost in the gale around them.
Logan reached down, pulling Esme up close against his chest, his mouth crashing down on hers again, his tongue invading her mouth where his cock had just been. Impatient, his need urgent now, Logan rolled Esme onto her back, her gasp at the shock of the cold, muddy ground kissing her heated skin lost when his mouth crashed down on her own. He lifted her hips up out of the wet grass, pulling her legs over his shoulders, sliding just the head of his cock, then all his length, into her throbbing pussy. She came again when he exploded in her, his hot cum mixing with the cool rain and the heat of her own juices.
Logan pulled his drawers up and the remnants of her chemise down, a hopeless attempt to preserve a semblance of modesty. He lifted her in his arms, the rain a gentle sprinkle now, the storm spent.
Not a soul roamed the halls, the servants keeping their distance as the filthy lord and his equally filthy lady passed through on their way to Logan’s bedchamber.
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Available Now
From Total-E-Bound:
by
Maria-Claire Payne
Esme Tyme, CEO of her antiques business, eschews romance in favor of building her success and asserting her independence by day; by night, her need for control at odds with her predilection for spankings and riding crops, her philosophy towards love is pure twenty-first century cynic: she wants her men to hit it (literally) and quit it.
Logan Davenport, hot – and hot-blooded – lord of the manor, channels his passion into breeding horses, resigning himself to the endless parade of insipid society women competing to attain his titles and his wealth, none caring to capture his heart.
To discover the love Logan’s mother, blessed with the second sight, predicted would come to him “from afar,” the couple, with a bit of help from one George Gordon, the Lord Byron, must reconcile Esme’s twenty-first century sensibilities with Logan’s high-bred sense when Esme finds herself transported from contemporary Boston, Massachusetts to Regency England – and into the Lord Davenport’s bed.
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Victoria Blisse’s Sunday Snog!
“Snog”…what a great word! So much cooler than “kiss!” Check out lots of smokin’ hot snog excerpts at Victoria Blisse’s “Sunday Snog!”
Here’s a Snog excerpt from UNSTRUNG (NOT rated G!):
by
Maria-Claire Payne
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Cara felt her fury and their passion mount.
“Kiss me.”
Travis looked down at her, his eyes narrowed. He ran his tongue over the small scar on the lower outer corner of his lip, courtesy of one of their last “kiss me” encounters when he’d surrendered himself over. Travis smiled, remembering that wild night. Hell hath no fury like his woman released from bondage.
Cara watched the expressions moving across his face. “I’m not going to bite you. Promise.” She laughed – he looked almost disappointed.
Her voice grew huskier. “Kiss me,” she whispered.
Travis let his mouth hover just over her lips, moving slow, finally letting his open mouth come down on hers. Cara let the tension drain from her sore muscles, lost in the feel of the sweet caress of his tongue against hers. She felt him harden again, and smiled.
Travis reached down between them, pulling her arms over her head. She winced – her fingers tingled, the circulation returning. Travis watched her face contort in pain and started undoing the knot he’d tied.
“No,” Cara panted, her breathing ragged. “Fuck me now.”
“Don’t tell me what to do, woman,” Travis muttered, fighting down his need to encase his throbbing cock in her dripping cunt. “Apologize.”
“Make me.” Cara ignored the pain intensifying in her wrists, focusing on the small muscles tightening on the left side of Travis’ face. He fought to control himself, she knew.
And lost.
Travis carried her to the edge of their bed and flung her, face down, his left hand buried in the tangled lengths of her hair. He worked to get a grip, Cara’s tresses slick from the honey butter and his cum and their sweat, until his fingers knotted in the heavy weight of her auburn lengths, his right hand poised to slap her exposed ass.
“Apologize,” he demanded again, his voice pitching deeper, hoarser still.
“Fuck you.” Cara’s voice, muffed against the white cotton sheets, nonetheless carried her defiance.
Travis’ open palm met its mark. Cara bit her lip.
“Apologize.”
“No.”
Travis alternated light taps with full-on slaps across both of Cara’s cheeks through a count of fifteen. His palm stung as well as her ass, Cara knew. At the final spank, she couldn’t stop her eyes from watering.
She finally surrendered.
“I’m sorry.”
Travis’ hand hovered over her cheeks, feeling the heat rising from his handiwork. His cock swelled with another heat. He never wanted his wife as much as he did right here, right now.
“Sorry for what?” Travis demanded to know, pulling her up and sitting her on the bed. He sank down next to her, cradling her face between his hands. “Tell me.”
“Sorry for telling you what to do.”
Cara saw the tight muscles in his jaw relax.
“Ask me to fuck you,” he murmured, his words soft as a lullaby.
Cara looked deep into his eyes. “Please, Travis, fuck me.”
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Available Now!
From Pink Petal Books
by
Maria-Claire Payne
Cara Bredelow’s day today starts out much like most others: with her husband Travis handcuffing her, gagging her, spanking her — making love to her before he leaves for work. Today, however, is not like every other day….
Cara Bredelow and her husband Travis work for a covert government agency called STAR Operations: Superpower Targeted Aeronautic Reconnaissance Operations. When Cara discovers errors in the data she inputs, and her husband and his research partner become troubled over their latest work on dimensional traveling, Cara begins to piece together a very dangerous puzzle.
To protect Cara, Travis and Sebastian initiate a risky plan to not only expose the traitor in their midst, but to also shut down international sales of national security secrets to the highest bidders. When Cara becomes a pawn in this dangerous game, will Travis choose his love for his woman or his love for the country he swore to protect – or can he save them both?
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Thanks for dropping by! Stop by often — my list of available titles will be…ahem…growing longer 
Maria-Claire
