The Author's Challenge (MF)

The Wolfes of Kinfoyle 2

Siren-BookStrand, Inc.

Heat Rating: Sextreme
Word Count: 27,233
0 Ratings (0.0)
[Siren Allure: Erotic Paranormal Romance, shape-shifters, consensual BDSM, HEA]
Jenissa Wolfe is in love with her best friend’s brother. A man who seems to live in the books he writes. Even if he was to notice her, how do you explain that you’re a Domme? Needing to be in charge is as important to Jenissa as breathing, not to mention the small fact that she is also a wolf shifter, and has mind-reading abilities, among other things.
Rob Mackintosh yearns to give up control to the right person.  When Jenissa, the very woman inhabiting his erotic dreams, admits she is a Domme and interested in him, he cannot believe his luck.
As they explore their dynamics, Rob falls hard for his ma’am.
His love is put to the test however, when he learns of the secrets Jenissa has been keeping from him.
Can he forgive his ma’am and move on, or is that the true challenge?
NOTE: This book has a heroine who is a domme.
A Siren Erotic Romance
The Author's Challenge (MF)
0 Ratings (0.0)

The Author's Challenge (MF)

The Wolfes of Kinfoyle 2

Siren-BookStrand, Inc.

Heat Rating: Sextreme
Word Count: 27,233
0 Ratings (0.0)
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Cover Art by Harris Channing




Meanwhile, he wrote his nonfiction.

Or, he mused as he stretched to get the kinks out of his back, was it nonfiction? It all seemed somewhat far-fetched to him. Okay the history one he could understand. History fascinated him, and he'd set himself the challenge. But this? Wolves, and paranormal goings-on in the Trossachs? Hardly.

 A howl sounded and he grinned. His mind was damn good at conjuring up sound effects when needed. Seriously, wolves? The odd fox or two, deer, red squirrels and maybe a pole cat, that was about it.

He knew all about the fairies and the Reverend Kirk they'd supposedly taken. On more than one occasion, he'd walked up the hill and looked at all the ribbons and offerings on the “Fairy Tree.” Almost everyone who lived in the area did, along with a good percentage of visitors. Witches? Yes, he could accept that. Hell, he had a friend at uni who was Wiccan. But wolves? That'd be right. As far as he was aware, wild wolves had died out in the country centuries before, and he hadn't seen reports of animals escaping from the any safari park within walking—or loping—distance. So why did he dream of them, see glowing eyes peering at him from the bushes, feel claws scoring his flesh, hear the howls and let them fill him? And why didn't it scare the pants off him?

As if on cue, the skin on his chest began to itch. The damned midges had arrived early this year. Rob scratched himself absently as he reread what he'd written. It was rubbish. A load of cobblers. His finger hovered over the delete button.

“Don't you dare. It's true.”

Argh, that sodding voice again. Why does it sound as if someone's talking through a hanky?

“Because I am? Even we can catch a cold. And summer colds are the pits.”

Was that a sneeze?


Rob shook his head even as he wondered just who the “we” referred to.

“When you're ready to know, you will. But you're not there yet, are you? You're not ready to know me yet. Open your mind, Rob.”

His skin tingled again.

Bloody midges. Why couldn't he see the hives, so he knew where to use the Tiger Balm? Where were those bloody red lumps and bumps he associated with summer? Rob had long accepted he was one of the unlucky people whom midges honed in on with a “whoopee, supper!” shout.

Summer in his part of Scotland. It either rained, or you got eaten alive. Did excess rain addle your brain?

Argh, stupid sodding rhyming sentences again.

“Love your poetic bent.” He ignored the voice. Maybe that was the way to deal with it? Ignore it, and it would go away?

“Not hardly. But try if you want.”

His skin did more than itch. Rob fought a battle with himself not to scratch hard.

Bloody midges. I must either put the anti-midge stuff on, or shut the door at night. It was the downside of living where he did. Long summer evenings where you either smothered yourself in repellant and accepted kamikaze midges in your wine, or sat indoors and looked at the view from behind glass. At least indoors you didn't get extra vitamins in the shape of drowned pests as you sipped.

“Think about it all, Rob.”

Resolutely, he put his decision into practice and ignored that voice in his head. If he didn't, he'd be signing into the local psychiatric hospital before long. He hadn’t got time for it. He wanted, no, had to finish what he was writing. Pandering to his imagination was only acceptable if it resulted in the next chapter of his book, nothing else. After all, if that bloody voice said he couldn't rub one out, what was the point of having wet dreams? Writing or nothing.

So why was he staring at his laptop half an hour later, having added precisely seventy-eight words to his manuscript, seventy-three of which he was about to delete?

Suddenly, it became clear to him why he wasn't happy with what he'd written.

He might be saying it was nonfiction, but it was glaringly obvious he wasn't convinced by a word he'd written, and if he didn't have faith, and enjoy those words, and believe in what he'd written, how could he expect anyone else to?

So not good.




“Cold? I'll warm you up.”

“Excited, but feel free.”

He snorted. “That I intend to. Feel. But for now…”

He bent his head and licked her clit. Jenissa squeaked like a demented mouse—how mortifying—and grabbed onto his head for balance. He blew on her clit and let his tongue twist into her pussy channel. Book event number two hit her. She gushed onto his tongue. He lifted his head an inch and moaned in appreciation.

“All for me. So bloody hot. I want more. I want to see you so wet, so hot and turned-on you're squirming. Moaning and writhing. All for us. I'm going to show you what we are, Ma'am, what we can be, how we can be, and hope you demand I do it again and again.” He slid the tip of his finger into her, gently pulled it out and licked it. “So, so, good. But first, a bath.”

He stood up and began to pull the strappy top she wore over her head.

“Can't we have a bath second?” Her voice was muffled by the cloth that temporarily covered it. “I'm in need here.”

Rob laughed softly and stripped the top off completely. “Anything my Ma'am wants. Step out of your skirt.” She did, with more haste than finesse, and stood expectantly in front of him.


“And, go lie on the bed.”

Jenissa didn't think she'd ever moved so fast in her life, not since she'd bet Jacob she could shift faster than him when they were teenagers. That had given her a sprained ankle, and she had no intention of something so restricting happening again. She took a flying leap toward the bed, landed on all fours and giggled as she rolled over, thankful wolf shifters were known for their agility. This demand you do as you desire thing to a sub—her sub, her Rob—was strangely liberating.

Rob wasn't far behind her. He'd shucked his jeans, and his honed and tanned body shone sexily in the lamplight. Jenissa's mouth was dry as he lowered himself onto the bed next to her and began to trace circles around her nipples.

“That tickles.”

“Hmm, I know. Does this?” He cupped her tits and pushed them together before he pulled both nipples into him mouth and sucked, just hard enough to give her body an erotic tingle.

“That excites,” she said frankly. “Carry on.”

“Good. How about this?” he let her boobs slide apart while he played with her clit, this time using his fingers to nip, rub, and tease. The tingles she'd experienced were like a tiny ripple on a stream compared to this tidal wave of sensations. He used his thumb to press on her clit, whilst he put one, then two fingers into her.

“Okay? Do your color-coding stuff if it isn't.” He bent his head, bit one nipple and tugged on the tip.

“Color…oh, safe words. No need, argh… oh hell, oh my, ohhh.” Fireworks exploded in her head, colored lights flashed before her eyes, every muscle in her body tensed, and she flew into her first, non-self-given hard and fast climax.

“That's it, my love. Fly for me. Let go.”

In the recess of her mind, she remembered something. Even as every inch of her demanded to shift, shift and take him with her, Jenissa knew it wasn't the time. With a determination she didn't know she had, she let her climax ride and grow as she twisted, with his thumb still on her clit and his fingers inside her.

“Come inside me, please. I need you there. I want to come with you inside me for this first time.” She was begging, but it was oh-so-important. Luckily, he understood her panted words. Somewhere nearby was a rustle of foil, which hardly registered, and then he moved between her legs and draped her ankles over his shoulders. Jenissa scarcely breathed as his cock probed her channel and moved inside her inch by inch.

“I want more.” She lifted her hips. “You won't hurt me, I promise. Give it all to me, love, please now.”

“My way.” He gasped the words as he probed further.

Then she understood. “I ride.” Well, she could hardly say I shift and that puts paid to your maidenhead pretty damn quick. “Nothing to break.”

“My way.” He moved again and Jenissa felt that first heady triumph of her lover deeply inside her, as far as he could go. He was big, hard and oh-so-perfect. She clenched her muscles to hold him there. Rob lifted his torso far enough to be able to tweak her clit and recommence his tugs and nips on it.

The tingles and shafts of sweet pain returned threefold.

“I need this.” Would he understand? Had she even spoken the words out loud? There was so little time. Shit, I must stop my ovaries going into overdrive. One look at him and they're screaming “yes please, now.”

 Scant seconds before it would be too late. Jenissa tugged him down toward her, clenched and unclenched her pussy muscles so he moved inside her, and bit Rob hard on the shoulder. Hard enough for blood to flow. Once she saw that, she let go. Wave after wave of hot emotion filled her as she flew into the abyss of sated bliss.

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