Subjects I feel PASSIONATELY, PASSIONATELY about

Hi, you have just arrived at my blogsite. I'm Artemis Hunt, author, harried employee, long-suffering wife, multi-tasker, Pomeranian lover, stepmother to two grown-up stepkids. I'm going to blog about subjects I feel passionately about. Please browse, and maybe you'll find something you feel passionately about too. For darker adult stories, I write under the name of A.R. Hunt. For straight erotica and erotic romances with mild BDSM (a la Fifty Shades), I write under the name of multiple Amazon and Barnes and Noble bestselling erotica author, Aphrodite Hunt.

A Virgin Enslaved



A BARNES AND NOBLES TOP 40 BESTSELLER AND AN AMAZON EROTICA TOP 70 BESTSELLER!

Small town girl Beth Tyrell has always planned on losing her virginity on her marriage bed to a man who would love and cherish her forever. But when she meets her new boss, the stunningly handsome and mercurial CEO, Chris Morton, she experiences an all-encompassing, gut-wrenching libidinous 'I want to be taken right here on your desk' desire that she has never known.

What's happening to her? Especially since Chris is a damaged entity who has multiple 'friends with benefits' and a fervent vow to never love a woman again. Even more perplexing is his obvious desire for her - a desire so palpable it borders on obsession.

Then Chris proposes an arrangement to explore their mutual passion: "Try me out for seven days. No penetration, I promise . . . unless you want it."

In this complex passion game, one of them must succumb first, except that things rarely work out as planned.

A VIRGIN ENSLAVED is a 32,000-word erotic romance novel.

BOOKS IN THIS SERIES:
A Virgin Enslaved (Now Enslaved)
A Virgin Enslaved 2
The Pretend Boyfriend
The Pretend Boyfriend 2
The Pretend Boyfriend 3
The Pretend Boyfriend 4


Excerpt:
Gingerly, I take the handcuffs out. They are the police procedural type - cold metal and clinking chains.

I turn to Chris again. The sight of him naked is like the sun in my eyes - beatifically dazzling. I don't think I have ever seen such a beautiful man in my life. He should be immortalized in sculpture, on frescoes, on naughty calendars.

"You mean . . . on your wrists?"

He sits up, still seated, and puts his wrists behind his firmly muscled back. God, he's beautiful. I'll never stop thinking that. He's the epitome of sex himself. I mean, look at him. You can't help but think of sex when you look at him, and I'm thinking of myself entwined with that wondrous body right now.

But he's bad news, my inner voice hisses.

I know, I know, I know, but I still badly want to touch him.

"Are you sure about this?" I say.

"Yes." He stands up, his back to me. He has a tattoo on his lower back, inscribed in some runic language I can't decipher. I have a mind to ask him about it later, except that he's distracting me in the most distressing of ways.

His tight, tight buttocks are at my eye level, and they are quite a marvel to behold. He spies me looking at them, and turns to grin. "Do you want to touch them?"

I blush. I'm frazzled by such frank sex talk. Maybe it's a good thing that I put these cuffs on him. That way -

"You don't have to worry about me losing control," he says, finishing my thoughts. "You're the one in control now."

He says this in a significant tone. I take it that it's usually the other way around with him where women are concerned.

My hands tremble as I circle his wrists with the cuffs. I lightly brush against his buttocks as I do so - accidentally, mind you. A thrill of deep desire courses through me.

Click.

He's now manacled like a common prisoner.

He remains standing as I place my palms upon his butt cheeks. His flesh is warm and soft and hard and taut all at the same time. I can hear him take a sharp breath as I traverse the contours of his flesh, feeling its texture and tensile strength. I roam my hands down the backs of his thighs. A shudder seizes the area between my legs.

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