Due to popular
demand, CD Reiss’s Complete Submission…
the complete eight book bundle of the Submission Series…
is NOW AVAILABLE
on ALL RETAILERS.
As a bonus, the first three chapters of Coda are in the back, and CD Reiss promises they’re hot as hell.
Amazon US: http://amzn.to/1akAleP
Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/1wp5gRo
Barnes & Noble: http://bit.ly/1DXdDG1
Google Play: http://bit.ly/1Arm1Lj
Blurb
This bundle contains books
1-8 of the USA Today Bestselling Submission Series, and totals 1300 pages of
intense, steamy romance that will leave you breathless.
***
Jonathan
Drazen.
Gorgeous. Check.
Charming. Check.
Smart. Check.
Rich. Hey, I’m not gonna
complain.
All the ingredients for a
few nights of mind-blowing pleasure are right there. He’s made it perfectly
clear he can’t love me, and I’m not out to fall in love either.
But I can’t stay away from
him. He’s got this bossy way about him in bed. The word “Sir,” falls from my
lips, and when he tells me to get on my knees…well, my knees have a mind of
their own.
I got this. I can be his
slave for a few nights and walk away unscathed.
We get in. Get it on. Get
the hell out. Done.
He knows the line between love and lust. It’s right between my legs. Now, let’s see if that line blurs for me.
EXCERPTS
FROM CODA (RATED NC-17)
“You know what,
Monica, you don’t even know yourself. Look at you. I haven’t seen you this
relaxed in months. The only time you let your worry go is when you give me control.
And your worry is what keeps you from being honest.”
I swallowed. Blinked.
A torrent of wetness welled behind my eyes, “I don’t want to break the scene.”
“Stay still. Stay
naked. Speak your mind.”
“I almost died with
you a hundred times. That recovery room, they had you in this induced coma and
you looked dead. There were bags of blood. Bags, hanging over you and you were
all opened up. And, I’m sorry, I haven’t said this because you’re the one who
went through it.” I swallowed a gallon of tears. “I don’t want to see you like
that again. But I think about it all the time. I dream about it. I see it when
I close my eyes. I want you to live, so I do what I think is going to make you
happy and I always get it wrong. Stay or go. I give you attention or none. It’s
always wrong.”
“What about your
happiness?”
“It doesn’t matter.
Not as much as yours. It’s not life or death.”
“It is, Monica. It
is.”
I shook my head. “You
can’t convince me of that. We can do this hurtful honesty thing all day. You’re
the priority and I’m okay with that. Deal with it.”
He nodded, looking
down for a blink, then up at me. He reached for my wrists.
“These go behind your
back.”
I did as instructed.
“Now, get on your
knees.”
I bent them. With my
hands behind my back, it was hard to balance.
“Do you need some
help?” he asked.
“Yes.”
I thought he’d take me
gently by the elbow, but dragged me down. He was right. I was relaxed, totally
submitting and trusting him, loving every bit of discomfort he dished out.
“Spread your knees
apart.”
I did, too slowly for
him. He kicked them wide.
“Do you remember your
safeword?” He asked, unbuckling his belt.
“Yes.” A tingling rush
went down my spine with the promise of his dominance and the way it made me
forget how fragile he really was.
His cock was out in
the next second. “Open. Your. Mouth.”
FROM THE SUBMISSION BUNDLE (RATED PG)
“Well, well, look at
that,” Ute said, staring across the street.
I followed her gaze
and saw what she saw. Jonathan had on simple trousers and a sweater with a leather
jacket. In contrast to the rest of the men at the party, who spent hours
looking as though they didn’t care what they wore, he looked neat and put
together, as if he cared. He was tall and lean and straight, with his hair
brushed back off his forehead. He owned the world and everything in it. The
difficulty of staying away from him was past his looks, past any single
physical attribute. He fell into a new, undefined category of “right.”
I set my back
straighter and tilted my chin up. I thought Debbie would send Robert, but
instead I’d have to pretend I was fine and my face wasn’t pounding.
“He’s coming over
here,” said Ute, brushing her hair flat.
“He’s my ride,” I
said.
Her eyebrows arched.
I paused. Jonathan
liked blondes, if his ex-wife was any indication. Ute was beautiful. She’d do
well with him.
I thought about adding
a short explanation. Maybe ‘I’m in love with him, but I left him’ or ‘he was my
lover, boyfriend, master, king...’ None of it worked, and by the time I came up
with ‘we were together for a while,’ he was upon us.
“Hey,” he said, and
that voice went right into my gut and ripped stuff out.
FROM THE SUBMISSION BUNDLE (RATED X)
“Get on your knees.”
Even through the
phone, I could tell Jonathan was using his dominant voice. I got nervous that I
would dampen the expensive panties so badly the protective paper at the crotch
would curl and peel off. “Yes, sir.”
Facing the dressing
room mirror, I got to my knees. The black garter and stocking I was trying on
looked as though it had been taped on me. The black satin belt slung low on my
hips held the straps that dropped down my thighs with silver rings.
“How does it look?” he
asked.
“I think you’ll like
it.”
“How does it make you
feel?”
“You really want to
know?” I asked.
“I’m sitting in the
back of my car, thinking about you. It’s wall-to-wall traffic. So, yes, I want
to know how it makes you feel.”
I heard women outside
the dressing room door. Their soft conversations and laughter were muffled by
the clothing draped around the room, lingerie with bows and clasps and metal
rings set into lush satins and elastics. Every piece I’d tried on aroused me,
and when he called, the addition of his voice to the mix brought me near tears.
“How do I feel?” I
asked. The carpet dug into my knees, and I was goose bumped from the air
conditioner, but that wasn’t what he meant. The black satin bra’s cups were
made of two panels that could be moved for access. It felt so comfortable, I
didn’t even know I had it on. The curves of the underwear accentuated the
length of my pelvis. “I feel like fucking.”
I heard him take a
breath. I did enjoy shocking him. “Tuck the phone under your left ear.”
“Done.”
“Done?”
“Done, sir.”
“Put your left hand on
the mirror,” he said. “Lean on it.”
“Yes, sir.” My hand
spread on the mirror like a starfish. It would leave a mark.
“Put your right hand
between your legs.”
“Jonathan…”
“Do it.”
My cunt clenched with
anticipation. I stroked lightly through the string of cloth, sucking air
between my teeth from the tingle of the touch.
“Get under the
fabric,” he said, as if he could see I hadn’t put my fingers on my skin.
“Yes, sir.” The word sir seemed to vibrate not just outward,
to him, but inward, down a thick nerve connecting my vocal cords to my core.
When I slipped my fingers under the panties, I shuddered.
“You wet?”
“So fucking wet,” I
whispered.
“Your legs spread?”
“Yes.”
“Look at yourself in
the mirror.”
I did, and I was
greeted by a face slack with arousal, flushed with sex. “Yes, sir.” I watched
myself submit to him, in that outfit, as if I needed to be more turned on.
Outside the door, I heard a throat clear.
“How do you look?” he
asked.
“I look like I can’t
stay in here much longer without someone coming.”
“You got that right,”
he mumbled. Papers shuffled on his side. He was working while telling me to
finger myself. A true multitasker. “Stroke your clit and all the way down to
that beautiful hole.” I groaned, my cheek caressing the phone. “Keep going. Work
your clit. Go around it twice, then over the top.”
I did, and the
heavenliness came as much from my own touch as the knowledge I obeyed him. “Oh,
Jonathan.”
“Put two fingers in.”
My pussy clenched
around my fingers, kissing them, sucking them in. The heel of my hand found my
clit as I pushed my fingers in and out.
He whispered,
“Tomorrow night, when I see you, I’m going to put my fingers in you and lick
you until you beg me to stop. Then I’m going to squeeze your clit with my lips
until you come again.”
“I want you.”
“You will have me.”
“May I come?” There
was a distinct possibility he’d say no, and I was so far gone, holding off my
orgasm would hurt. “Please let me come.” His silence tormented me. “Please,
sir.” I smiled a little. I never thought I’d actually want to call a lover sir. But it felt good, and right, and
fun.
I hears his smile as
he said, “You may.”
I pressed my whole
hand along my wet cleft, feeling everything from the tingle around my pussy to
the powerful ache at my clit, back and forth, slowly. My breathing got hard and
short. I had to keep it down. If I could hear myself, someone else could as
well. I closed my eyes and buckled. My hand left the mirror as my back arched,
encompassing me in heat from my knees to my waist. I bit my lip to keep from
crying out. My hips pumped as pleasure washed over me in impossibly long waves.
The phone dropped to the carpet.
Author Information
CD Reiss is a USA Today and Amazon bestseller. She still
has to chop wood and carry water, which was buried in the fine print. Her
lawyer is working it out with God but in the meantime, if you call and she
doesn’t pick up, she’s at the well, hauling buckets.
Born in New York City, she moved to
Hollywood, California to get her master’s degree in screenwriting from USC. In
case you want to know, that went nowhere, but it did embed TV story structure
in her head well enough for her to take a big risk on a TV series structured
erotic series called Songs of Submission. It’s about a kinky billionaire hung
up on his ex-wife, an ingenue singer with a wisecracking mouth; art, music and
sin in the city of Los Angeles.
Critics have dubbed the books “poetic,”
“literary,” and “hauntingly atmospheric,” which is flattering enough for her to
put it in a bio, but embarrassing enough for her not to tell her husband, or he
might think she’s some sort of braggart who’s too good to give the toilets a
once-over every couple of weeks or chop a cord of wood.
If you meet her in person, you should
call her Christine.
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