Longing Club Inferno # 2
By: Jamie K. Schmidt
Releasing September 2nd, 2014
Loveswept
Desire never goes out of style, as Jamie K. Schmidt proves in the sizzling continuation of her Club Inferno series—perfect for readers of Fifty Shades of Grey and Bared to You.
Reeling from a disastrous love affair, model and budding fashion designer Anya Litton needs a temporary refuge, a place to lick her wounds and plan her next career move. At Club Inferno, where seductively chic men and women indulge their most intimate fantasies, she can mix business with unimaginable pleasure. Anya quickly connects with club Dom Clint Reyes, who unleashes Anya’s deepest longings over nights of burning passion.
Clint is a master at taking submissives to the heights of pleasure in Club Inferno’s opulent private dungeons. But it’s Anya who has Clint begging for more when the woman of his dreams becomes his eager partner in exploring the limits of desire. As their relationship ignites into an erotic contest of wills—and a jealous rival plots against them both—Clint prepares to fight for a future with Anya. In this complicated dance, the wrong move could end it all . . . and taking control means total surrender.
Longing is an erotic romance intended for mature audiences.
“Just because I won’t sleep with you, Trey, doesn’t mean I’m frigid. It means I’ve got good taste. Besides, I have a boyfriend.” Sort of. As soon as I get enough courage to ask him out. Anya watched Clint slice through the water doing his laps and smiled.
“That’s a new one. I thought you still held a torch for the Italian stallion.”
“Ancient history,” Anya said, and got an idea for Fierocity—a Roman-inspired toga dress. She frowned. No, that was dumb. Except maybe for orgy night. At Club Inferno’s last one, Anya had gotten up the nerve to walk the length of the ballroom like it was the runway at Sodom and Gomorrah. It was fantastic, but she’d lost her nerve when a masked gladiator motioned for her to sit on his lap. Come to think of it, that gladiator had had thighs like Clint’s.
“If you say so. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“Please don’t,” she said, but he had already hung up. “Honestly.” Anya turned off the ringer and dumped the phone back into her purse. Clint had stopped swimming and was sitting in the shallow end, leaning back with his eyes closed. She was about to march over there and start up a conversation when the doors slammed open, and Master Dante and his entourage walked in.
Master Dante was dressed in black leather pants and matching vest. His group consisted of females dressed as acrobats. Or maybe they really were acrobats; you could never tell with Master Dante. When Anya met him, she’d really wanted to call him Dante. But then he turned those emerald-green eyes on her and her spine automatically stiffened. He had a charisma that was so compelling Anya wouldn’t dare call him anything but Master Dante—and she didn’t have a submissive bone in her body.
Author Info:
Jamie K. Schmidt has published more than thirty short stories in small-press journals and e-zines. She’s an active member in the Romance Writers of America. When not writing, she relaxes with a mug of hot tea and knits or makes beaded jewelry. She sells her handcrafted items at Connecticut’s historic Dudley Farm during the summer.
Author Links:
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