Master Play (An Excerpt From Book 4)

Master Play: The Sex of Politics

The Sweet Maple Erotic Book Series

Chapter 1

Atlanta, Georgia

“The vicissitude of Maple’s past painted the way for her to awake tied to the bed with ribbons and twine,” the burly voice calmly stated.

I lie in bed with an extreme headache. What the fuck is happening, I thought. I went to touch my head and felt the weight of my hand stop in mid-air. My hands were tied to the damn bed.

Holy fuck, did this happen again?

I slowly looked around the room and recognized my familiar surroundings.

OK. I remember this place, I thought.

Before I had a chance to piece together much more of what was happening, I heard the voice again.

“She begged for it, Grant. What was I supposed to do? Her ass is as fine as the hindquarters of an equine.”

I then heard a scuffle, a thud, and then I heard Grant say, “You piece of shit, did you fuck her?”

The burly voice only laughed and said, “No. I value our relationship too much. I did lick her tantalizing twat, though. I like how she asks for it.”

I heard a glass break and then Grant forcibly said, “You asshole. You will pay for this. Nobody touches Maple unless I am present. Do you hear me? Nobody.”

I heard more of a scuffle and then a door slam. Within moments, a car honked its horn; and I listened to the automobile drive over gravel on its way towards the exit of the bungalow.

My body felt fine. I didn’t feel bruised or hurt, well, except my wrists. Mainly because they were tied to the bed. My arms felt kind of heavy and stiff, too. I slowly started to twist my wrists around in circles in an attempt to loosen the ribbon. My ankles are tightly bound together with twine, ugh. I can free them once my hands are untied. As I squirm my wrists around the ribbon, I wonder how he could have licked my snatch with me feet tied together. Interesting. I hope my memory restores as the story unfolds.

I am so annoyed I am in this predicament, once again. My feet roped together with twine and my arms cuffed to a bed, unable to break free. I hate it. I detest not having the freedom to do what I want. Who the fuck tied me to this damn bed. Fuck, I thought. Grant? It would’t be the first time, but I handle it better when it’s with him.

As I struggled around in the grand bed, my sweet angel of darkness entered the room. The satin sheets were thrown across my legs in a whimsical manner. I was annoyed, yet relieved to see his face. His handsome and devilishly pretty smile makes me weak, even more vulnerable than I feel at this very moment, exposed for him to see. I was aggravated, but seduced. As he longingly stared into my eyes as he stood a short distance away, I knew he would always be there. He would always watch and protect, even if he walked a fine line between love and pain.

As moments lingered, I knew he liked looking at me tied to the bed. Me. My body wrapped and squirming around for him to see. This was like last time, but different.

As I slowly moved my legs from one side to the other, I let him stare at me. I enjoyed it. I started to feel powerful.

He didn’t run to me after his fit of rage and the sound of broken glass. Why? That’s not his style, I thought.  I contemplated his body against mine. As I rolled around in the bed, I now gently toyed with freeing my hands. He likes when I act demure.

Grant finally walked to the bed. He leaned down and let his hand stroke my hair, and then my cheek. He softly whispered, “I’m sorry if you feel frightened or mad. I know you believe you’ll never be put in harms way.” He then kissed my cheek and then slowly moved his lips towards my mouth.

I accepted him. I took his tongue, his hands, and anything else he wants to give. I trust him. Bound and tied to a bed for unclear reasons can’t deter me from my alpha. I’m not hurt. I know he’ll always protect me.

As I twirled my tongue around in his mouth, I felt secure in our relationship. His past is intense but I know he trusts me, and having Grant Mitchell’s trust is all I care about right now.

As soon as our kiss took a momentary pause, I asked, “What happened. Why am I tied to the bed?”

Grant had already started untying the ribbons from around my wrists. He gently kissed my arms as he loosened the knots.

Grant said in a dauntless tone, “It happened again. I wanted twilight sex. You were so relaxed. I tied you up, but then Bishop called and I answered my phone and stepped away from the room. You were only asleep for a few minutes, but I guess that’s when Zebedia walked in and found you here. He swears nothing happened.”

Grant gently started kissing my arm again. I liked his skin, his warmth. I didn’t feel violated. Maybe I should, but I really didn’t. As I let Grant continue to kiss around my body, I tasked, “Please untie my ankles, so I can spread my legs.”

I knew as soon as I said those words, Grant would get sexually turned on; and he did. Bingo.

I then asked, “Do you think Zebedia will return?”

Grant looked annoyed. I felt his upper body quickly stiffen, he then gathered composure. He looked at me and said, “You know I will never hurt you or put you in harm’s way, right? You’re mine, Maple. I hate that I let you fall prey to the whims of another person.”

I knew Grant battled heavy emotional demons, but we have a primitive type of connection. A raw lust. I trust this man with my life. In my heart, I believe what he says.

After several seconds passed, I answered, “Grant, I am always here for you. Things happen, let’s just learn from this, so we’re safer next time.”

Grant took a moment to look into my eyes. He touched my hand and cupped my fingers. He then said, “I love you, Maple. All I want is to make you happy and keep you safe.”

I let Grant hold me. I let him cuddle me. I liked it. I am ok with his past because he takes care of my present and my future. Many women would love to be where I am, but no one can tolerate his secrets, and nobody loves him like I do.

Holiday Politics (Book Excerpt)

  Ronald Rump and Mallory Clint Have a Show for You 

...........I continued walking towards the familiar faces that brought me to the party. I coyly walked past known politicians that had dominated many national and syndicated news programs; I didn’t want to get caught awkwardly staring at anyone. By the time I approached the sitting area and could see Tracy, my attention was re-directed to one of the power couples at the party. There they were, the current governor of Arkansas and his power wife. I found it funny they were dressed as Bonnie and Clyde.

   The Clints , Phil and Mallory, worked a room like no other couple I had ever seen before. She was poised, intelligent, but laid back enough that she appeared approachable. The couple appeared like they were a unified force. The way they shot quick glances at each other, even though they were involved in different conversations at opposite ends of the room. Even when they were engaged with other people, they still watched each other. It was like they were both predators in a room full of potential prey. One predator was ok with whatever the other predator wanted to do next. They were deliberate and determined. At least, that was my first impression.

   As I continued towards an empty chair, I was approached by a tall and sleazy looking man. Before I could make my way past him, he reached out and grabbed my arm and gripped firmly until I stopped in my path. His smile was forced and his breath smelled of alcohol.

   He leaned closer to whisper in my ear, and said, “I have a very important man who wants to meet you. Don’t say you have somewhere else to be, please. Don’t embarrass yourself. Where I want to take you is better than any place you’re headed, darlin.”

   He squeezed my arm tighter, as if he wanted me to feel his control, his power.

   I felt anger swell inside. How dare this person handle me this way, I thought. I didn’t want to make a scene. Then, within a few seconds, a tall and somewhat pudgy man appeared from behind a group of people. I recognized the man. He appeared even worse in person that he did in the media. looked even worse than how he looked in the media. His pores were huge and his face was oily. He looked like he needed to take a rice paper and blot his skin, repetitively. His hands looked tiny and his fingers resembled small, stubby cocktail sausages. When he talked, his lips pursed outward like he wanted to quack. Yes, everything about him made me nauseous. Needless to say, I was not impressed by the man waiting for his introduction. Mr. Ronald Rump was anything but sexy. In fact, he bordered on repulsive.

   As he sauntered over to engage in conversation, I wanted to bolt. Seriously, why did he want to talk with me? Ugh.

   Ronald wasted no time. He leaned in towards me and said, “Wow, what a plump ass, curvaceous hips, and an unbelievably small waistline you have. You grow up on a farm?”

   His hands reached in and his fingers rested on my hips. He was standing directly in front of me. My back against a wall.

   In my head, I thought, “What the fuck?” I tried to squirm away, but he tightened his grip.

   Ronald then leaned closer, his breath smelled like barbecue masked by spearmint, and he said, “Damn, girl,” as he held my hips tight, “You look like you’ve had your share of grits, corn, and steak.” Then he stereotypically palm planted his stubby fingers across my derriere and squeezed my butt cheeks.

   He wouldn’t let go. I stood there with his hand glued to my backside. I was frozen for a moment. My temper enraged, but my rational side told me to remain calm. Why? I have no clue, but within that moment of dubiety, I watched Mallory fixate on what was happening to me. I felt exposed. I felt taken advantage of; and now someone else caught me in a vulnerable moment.

   I calmly looked at Ronald. His hand was still on my ass. I quietly commanded, “Get your motherfucking hands off my ass, creep.” He didn’t listen, in fact, he squeezed tighter as if he was turned on, or pressing the situation.

   I grabbed his hand in an attempt to remove it from my body, but this chump took it as an opportunity to flaunt me to people walking by, as if he just picked me up as his party favor. There was an obvious covert struggle going on between his hands trying to touch more of my body and my blatant blocks to keep him away.

   Ronald thought this little struggle was amusing. He whispered in my ear, “Yes, honey. Keep it up. I like it when they squirm.”

   Squirm? Did he just say squirm? I couldn’t believe how disgusting this asshole was. As I fought to remove myself from his tentacles, he reached around with one hand and held my back and pulled me close to his body. He took his other hand and worked it down my front side and fingered the outline of my pussy.

   “You know you like it, honey.”  Ronald had a firm grip on me as he held me close to his chest and continued to slide his fingers up and down the outside of my underwear.

   I resisted as best as I could, but, I somehow still didn’t want to make a scene. What the fuck, I thought. Here I am getting manhandled in the middle of a party, and people think this is ok?

   I felt pissed. My body was pressed hard against his chest, and this looked completely natural to people.

   After a few moments elapsed, I heard a female voice standing beside me. I then felt a delicate hand placed on my shoulder.

   The voice said, “Really, Ronald? Are you trying to pass off a potential rape scene as the entertainment for the party?”

   Ronald loosened his grip on me. Thank god, I thought. If being held in a bear hug as my pussy was grabbed wasn’t bad enough, Ronald’s armpits smelled as ripe as hot trash left on a pile of shit.

   As soon as I unfolded from his unwelcomed grip, I saw her standing right there next to us. It was Mallory. She watched while I was aggressively fondled by a douchebag of a businessman. Mallory had a slight smirk on her face, as she gave me a once over. As I looked around to see if anyone else was watching, I saw him. Grant. He saw, too.

   Within moments, Mallory asked, “Is drunk Ronald bothering you, Miss?”

   My mask was still on my face, so I felt somewhat shadowed, and not as exposed as I felt on the inside.

   Ronald’s body immediately tensed. I could tell Mallory intimated him.

   Ronald looked at me, as if he had been caught doing something he knows he should not have done.

   Ronald tried to quickly compose himself, although his untucked shirt and messy hair prevented him from looking appropriately dressed. He then asked, “Mallory, is Phil trying to fuck someone else for campaign money?”

   Mallory looked at me. Her face was stern, yet soft enough to make her next words a welcome message to my ears. She then said, “Miss, watch yourself in surroundings like this. Power, politics and parties tend to normalize real fucked up shit.”

Mallory paused for a moment; and without breaking her eye contact with me, she then stepped on Ronald’s foot with her heel and twisted her foot. She then continued, “Unless you need funding, I’d suggest you stay away from these troubled circles.”

   Mallory then looked at Ronald and sarcastically asked, “Speaking of money, bitch. I thought you were going to give more to Phil’s campaign. We need to go talk in private.”

   Within minutes, Mallory and Ronald walked towards an empty hallway on the other side of the room. Where they went, I have no clue. 

The Grant and Maple Backstory

Politics and Sex

The Political Connection

            Grant has a rich history. Although he is an investment banker in New York, his family has been a large manufacturer and distributor for several reputable and national brands, like Dewalte, General Grills Foods, and Reinz Tomato products. He understands how the business world works; and like every top-notch businessman, he plays politics. His connection with childhood friend, Bishop Boswell, has allowed Grant to further capitalize on political relationships, since Bishop’s father, Governor Richard Boswell, is the former governor of the state of Texas. Grant’s parents spent many an evening at the governor’s mansion when Grant was a child. Grant and Bishop have known each other most of their lives.

            One evening, many years ago, Bishop asked Grant to attend a Halloween fundraising party for local city candidates in Texas. Bishop had another prior engagement, which prevented him from attending the Halloween bash, but he needed a party presence to maintain a steady flow of high-end clientele his catering services often garnered from these types of fundraisers. Bishop owns a string of popular chicken stands and rib joints throughout Texas and Arizona. He enjoys the business and marketing his catering service earns from providing free food to political fundraisers. Since Grant was visiting Bishop and had nothing to do during that particular evening, he agreed to attend the party in Bishop’s absence. That was the night I met Grant, so let me fill you in a little more about our first encounter.

A Day of FREE Erotica

Get Dirty

The day of hump

A Wednesday to finish
A pretty tight rump
To pounce and diminish.

Well, the Executive does.......

 

Making Mad

A Powerful Period

Menstruation is red
Fluffy blankets are blue
Get the fuck out of my way
Before I yell at you, too

Shit My Lover Says #1

Pussy Prose

A pickle and two pears
A dancing naked man dangling freely with no underwear
A stare, a glance, and a moment of erotic dance
He reached down slowly and unbuttoned my pants
The cock between his thighs was already on rise
The blind one-eyed snake would soon find the prize.

Sometimes he dances with his body and sometimes he dances with his words. Either way, he always gets my clothes off and the heat on. He's quite cunning.....

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