Wednesday, 20 December 2017

#MidWeekTeaseWhere Angie begins to discover how she , is who she is...

 Where we find out a little more what's going on

Christmas is a time for dreams and miracles—or is it Kink? Dreams and reality merge for Angie this season, and life may change forever.

It’s the season to be jolly and to decorate one’s kinky Christmas tree in peace. Instead Angie has to put up with her overbearing ex-boyfriend.
When she falls in the struggle over her beloved Christmas tree angel, Angie wakes up in 1818. Clearly she has hit her head too hard, or she needs to be carted off by the man in the white coats.
The Earl of Camberley’s relief at finding his beloved wife finally awake is only surpassed by his anger at the ruffian who dared to attack her on his door step. His lady-mine seems rather confused and he can only hope that she remembers who he is and what they share in private.
Theirs is not a conventional marriage.
As they work to piece together the mystery surrounding her angel, passion flares and Angie realizes that she loves this regency Dom as much her Dom back home.

Where is home however?

How it all began...

“You’re not putting that thing on the tree, surely?” The patronizing tone of her ex-boyfriend’s words set Angie’s teeth on edge. She should have told him to bugger off when he came to the door and said they needed to talk. But, she’d reasoned, her significant other—oh how she loved saying that—would be home any minute, and then Stuart would leave.
“Yes.” She didn’t ask why. Instead she leaned on the stepladder she’d put next to her as yet unadorned tree and contemplated where each precious-memory-filled ornament should go.
“Rubbish. It’s junk. Give it here, and I’ll dispose of it for you.” He held out his hand.
Why hadn’t she realized before how pale and effete his fingers were? And that he always looked shifty.
“No thank you, it’s mine. I think it’s time you left.” She had no idea why he’d turned up, anyway. She’d told him in no uncertain terms it was over, when she’d shown him the door. Anyone would think he didn’t believe her.
“Angie. What’s wrong with proper decorations, not some dirty, battered old bit of wood decorated so tawdrily. This tree will have about as much taste as that awful fish soup you’re so fond of.”
Angie didn’t answer him. She liked the fish soup. As for taste? Thank goodness he didn’t know how she’d decorated the tree in the other room. Shibari rope instead of tinsel, handcuffs, and nipple clamps decorated with ribbons and bows would give Stuart all the ideas she didn’t want him to have. They were for her and her Dom, no one else. Her nipples tightened and her pussy spasmed as she thought of just what he’d demanded and received as each item was lovingly used on her, before it was put onto their special and private tree.
Not only that, there were several boxes under the tree, and she’d love to know what they contained. Plus there were some very interesting wrapped ones on the tree itself. As she wasn’t much interested in sewing, she’d bet the one that looked like a darning mushroom was a butt plug.
If Sir hadn’t warned her about shaking them, she’d have had enough practice to be proficient with maracas by now.
“Put it down and come and sit next to me.” Stuart leered at her and stretched out his arm once more. Angie took a step back. How on earth had she ever seen anything in him?
“Why do you wear such awful clothes?” He glanced at her skirt disparagingly. “Show your legs and stop being so fuddy-duddy.”
She gave up a prayer of thanks that she was in a long, opaque skirt and baggy jumper. Now that she saw Stuart again, she remembered one of his less pleasant traits—of which he had many— was ogling. As well as leering, and heavy breathing. Not to forget inappropriate comments.
What did I see in him?
The scent of pine teased her nostrils and she inhaled deeply to let it fill her senses. She loved everything to do with Christmas. Her lovely Sir had given her carte blanche to decorate the house as she wanted, and each day she added something new. Today was to be the start of decorating the big, anyone-can-see tree.
Stuart snorted. He sounded like a demented hyena. No wonder they’d only lasted a few months together. Angie ignored him and studied the tree carefully. Then she reached up to a branch that she reckoned was perfect to place her decoration on.
“Sweetlips, you can’t. It’s old and ugly.” He sat down on her sofa and crossed his legs. “Honestly, I thought I’d taught you better.”
The assumption that he was welcome, and had taught her anything, irritated Angie as much as his attitude. All he’d shown her was how boring vanilla was without any extras to add some spice.
You watch me, matey. You taught me F-all that was useful, except how not to fall for an asshole again. And for fuck’s sake? Sweetlips? What film has he been watching?
“Come out for a drink.” His tone was sugar, saccharine and
all-out wheedling. “Let bygones be bygones. I’ll forget how silly you’ve been. Roddy and Serena were asking where you were.”
Now they were getting somewhere. His parents, who he always called by their first names, had mentioned to Angie how pleased they were that their son had met her. Calmed him down. Steadied him. A good influence on him. Evidently her absence had been noted and queried. Well tough, she’d moved on. Months ago.
“Angie, did you hear me? Stop this nonsense. I gave you a year to get over your snit. Grow up and accept I am who I am, and what we’re going to be. We’ll go to the Caribbean and start a new life together. I’m well established there now. A man of substance.” He puffed out his pigeon chest as best he could. It was a pitiful effort.
She knew fine what he was all right, and she was having no more to do with him. At least now she understood why he’d been conspicuous in his absence. As for her accompanying him to the Caribbean? What planet was he from? Angie was so angry she wouldn’t have been surprised to see smoke coming out of her ears. She dug her fingers into her palms to stop herself from forming a fist and using it. Only the thought that she was going to be in big trouble with Sir already, without adding GBH to it, stopped her.
Sir had already given her one punishment for opening the door without the chain on. As he said, chains had many uses. She’d discovered another one that night. Angie flexed her wrists as she remembered just how the chain held her whilst said punishment had been administered. The fact the punishment was earned, and the make up sex was more than interesting, still didn’t stop her from wanting to rub her ass. Her Sir was very inventive.
If sodding Stuart hadn’t been around she’d have gone into their room, turned on the video, and sent Sir a video of herself and her bullet. Sir was very good at orgasm denial unless... She dragged her pantie-dampening thoughts back to the here and now and the knotty problem of how to get shot of Stuart.
“Stuart, I know exactly who you are, and what we’re going to be. Watch my lips. You’re in the past. Well in the past. I’m not going anywhere. It’s over. We are finished. Done, dead and buried. You know your way out.” She turned her back on him, determined to ignore him.
His hiss of breath showed how annoyed he was. Okay, she should maybe try for a less aggressive approach, but his hide was so thick you needed heavy-hitting words to pierce it. She might be all- out submissive to her Sir, but never to Stuart. In their short-lived relationship, Angie had just about gone giddy trying to be all things at all times, especially doing her best not to show she was topping from the bottom.
“It’s over and you know it, Stuart. Now, I’m busy.” Should she mention the new and very important man in her life? She decided to keep him as the surprise tough measure. Instead she smoothed the hair on the small wooden angel she held to try and stop her hands from shaking. The wool was warm between her fingers and she held on to it like a lifeline. Angie hated confrontation of any sort, and this was not at all pleasant. She hoped she wouldn’t be by herself with Stuart much longer.
“Put that sodding ornament down and look at me.”
Angie ignored him and prinked out the skirt on the old angel she was going to put on the tree. The glass beads around the bottom could do with a clean before Angel Dora graced the tree. Okay, Angel Dora had seen better days, and one of her wings was definitely skewed, but she was part of the family and was said to even be older than Angie’s gran. She was a family heirloom, tatty and battered or not.
“I said put it down.” Stuart’s tone was sharp. He leaned forward, grasped her arm, spun her round, and tried to pull the angel out of her hand. Angie held on for grim death.
“I ignored you. My house, my tree, my angel, my choice.” How dare he become the tyrant? “Time you left, Stuart.”
“You little bitch.” He stood up and pulled on her other arm as well as gripping the hand that held the angel so tight she’d have bruises.
Unfortunately, the wrong sort of bruises, she thought semi- hysterically now.
“I spent over three months pandering to you and your silly, old-fashioned ways. Now you won’t even look at me. That stupid ornament has more of your attention than me? No way.”
He grabbed her shoulders and shook her. Angie knew just how her rag doll had felt when Bryan Balfour had pinched it and teased her by throwing the doll in the air.
Stuart pushed her away and she felt herself falling. The wall was way too close and her head wouldn’t miss it.

Angie hit the wall, and the angel almost fell out of her hands. Almost...

You can find A Dom for Christmas on Amazon, Kobo, Smashwords  and Bookstrand or at Evernight Publishing here

And the other #MidWeekTease posts here

happy reading, and season's greetings to you all,

love Raven x


  1. Wow! What a scene and what a jerk. I hope she won't be hurt .

  2. Fab tease, Raven. I must re-rad this one :-)