I guess if I’m going to share Book 2 of the Sins of the Flesh series with you, I oughta share an excerpt from the first book, Many Strange Women. Due to your support, Many Strange Women, was on Amazon’s Top 100 Bestsellers for African American Women’s Fiction for several months. I’ll be back live on January 6th. Yippee!
Ropes of candy cane bound Solomon to the chair while a giant marshmallow gagged him. A single light bulb hung from a thin wire in the ceiling, and the rest of the room was bathed in darkness. Tears stung his eyes as he fought against his candy cane restraints around his chest, arms, wrists, and feet—but they had the strength of marble. The marshmallow refused to dissolve in his mouth and remained even as he tried to bite down.
The doorway suddenly darkened by the curvaceous figure of a woman.
“Eric Blake,” the woman’s voice spoke, and it smoothed over him like frigid water flowing over rocks.
Solomon’s eyes widened as she advanced, vibrant like an Irish rose. The light revealed her in phases, bottom to top. Long, dainty feet with strawberry colored toenails were hemmed by matching silk pajama pants edged with lace. Slim legs seductively clung to by the silk stretched the fabric. The hourglass waistline was accentuated by a V-neck halter top, and curly copper hair surrounded a long, elegant neck. Jade eyes edged by long curly lashes, an upturned nose and childishly pouty lips. Her arms were slender and sinewy and in her hands she clinched a coiled whip of candy cane.
A scythe of glacial, nipping fear sliced into Solomon’s body, opened his chest and exposed his thudding heart. Over and over as each step brought the woman closer, fear flayed him. With renewed vigor, he fought against the candy cane rope. He twisted and tugged at his wrists in an effort to set him free. The marshmallow bulged and expanded until it overlapped the corners of his mouth.
“Eric Blake,” the woman’s mouth moved as her tongue darted out and over her lips.
The marshmallow gag muffled his scream.
“Oh yes! That sound!” The woman laughed as she rolled her eyes and neck in a movement of pleasure.
Solomon struggled violently. He wrenched at the candy cane ropes, twisted his wrists and grappled with his toes to move the chair. His face flushed with blood from his exertions. The chair rocked back and forth but never fell. The ropes tightened their hold; the candy cane glowed in the light. He had to escape. He had to try!
The woman purred. Her eyes darkened to the color of mold and the mirth vanished from her face as an expression of intent drew her eyebrows together and her mouth fell slightly open in anticipation.
The whip uncoiled; the red and white bands twisted together and met at a point. She backed away until she was once again shaded by darkness and then silhouetted by light pouring in from the doorway. He saw the dark figure of her arm rise.
The tip of the whip cracked against his chest, and he flinched instinctively but there wasn’t any pain. It fell again, this time on his stomach, and he jolted. The sound echoed in the air like a firecracker. Over and over, it touched various parts of his body. He didn’t know how long he sat there as he shivered from response, felt no pain but was utterly trapped by his candied bonds and tormented by a beautiful woman.
Then it was over, and the woman walked back to him, hips swaying. She reached out and pulled the marshmallow gag from his mouth and threw it to the ground. It shattered like glass on the floor.
“No, no, no,” he moaned, and once more struggled against his bonds.
“It’s time to eat, Eric Blake.” She panted harshly, the red lips wide open as she gulped.
“No, please, no! Get away from me!” Solomon screeched, rocking the chair again.
“I will never go away,” she whispered as she leaned over him. Her hair cascaded over him in a coppery waterfall. Her mouth opened over his shoulder, and her teeth sank into his flesh and left a gaping hole in his shoulder.
In horror, he gazed at his shoulder. It was marshmallow with a candy cane center.
Solomon jerked awake from his dream. He scraped at his shoulder fervently, expecting to see a marshmallow wound. A few seconds passed before he stopped and longer for his heart to stop its attempt to escape the confines of his ribcage. He pushed the covers away from his sweat-drenched body. The cool air rushed against his skin and he welcomed it. Darkness shrouded everything except for a pinprick of red light from his digital clock: 4:30.
“Dear God,” he breathed into the quiet room.
He exhaled a long breath. Would he ever escape his past?