Separation Games by CD Reiss
Series: The Games Duet # 2 Release Date: January 3, 2017 Genre: Contemporary Romance
"CD Reiss writes the best erotica I have ever read."
Meredith Wild, #1 New York Times bestselling author of The Hacker Series
Synopsis:
The stunning conclusion to the New York Times Bestseller.
There’s one, unbreakable rule in the game.
Stay collected. Compartmentalize. Think your next move through. Never let your heart dictate your tactics.
The heart is impulsive.
The heart makes bad decisions.
The heart doesn’t see the long game.
Because the heart may have decided to get Adam back, but when the endgame comes, the heart’s going to be the first thing to break.
Excerpt:
Adam pulled me to the next door to the left. It opened into a small theater with about two dozen red velvet seats with lights at the bases.
“There was this guy in Marine Park who collected vintage pornography. When he died, one of the clubs uptown took it and preserved it. When all the clubs merged, they reels moved here.”
“We’re going to watch porn together?”
He guided me down an aisle. “Yes.”
“How adventurous of us.” I smiled at him, flirting.
He smiled back a little, but was reserved in his enthusiasm. We sat in the center.
“Now I’m sorry I wore pants,” I said.
The lights dimmed to black. I took his hand, and he paused before dropping our entwined fingers in his lap.
“I’m trying to illustrate something. I want to talk. So I’m glad you wore pants.”
The bullseye countdown appeared. Adam leaned his head back, closed his eyes, and exhaled. They went back to the screen as if all necessary strength had been gathered.
She’s blindfolded, arms tied above her. He’s lashing her.
“These are from the late sixties,” he said as the picture flickered. There was no sound. “The stuff here is very real. There’s no retouching. It’s 16mm, so there’s none of the porny quality of video.”
He’s wrapping her tits in black tape.
“I see,” I said.
He was right. The frame was raw. The beauty of her submission wasn’t on the film. I didn’t feel as though I was watching something. I felt as though I was witnessing something.
He’s clamping her nipples until they’re elongated meat.
“This is called tit torture,” he said matter-of-factly. “Every step of this was worked out beforehand. You’re not seeing the dozen things he’s not doing.” He twisted in his seat to face me. He was backlit, so I couldn’t see his expression. “Give me an adjective. What do you think of it?”
“Is this your thing?”
“Answer me first.”
I loved him. I wanted him. I’d get on my knees and submit to him.
“It’s gruesome.”
“It’s not my thing.” He sat back and faced the screen. The light flickered on his face. “There’s so much more though.”
He’s putting the business end of a hairbrush in her anus.
I’ve never seen skin that shade of purple.
What is she eating?
In all of them, the submissive may have cried or screamed, but she always came back for more. She kissed the Dominant’s hand or looked at him admiringly. Her lips did a dance of gratitude.
Thank you.
Ten minutes in, I couldn’t hold my questions anymore. “Why are you showing me this? You don’t want to wrap me in duct tape.”
“Someone might. I want you to know what it looks like first.”
“Adam Steinbeck!” I stood and put my fists on my hips. “You fucking shit!”
He crossed his legs, shrugging as if it wasn’t his fault. He just worked here. “What?”
“You’re trying to scare me.”
“I’m trying to inform you.”
“To hell with this. I’m going out there right now and getting someone to fuck me with a wooden spoon.”
I stomped down the aisle. He grabbed my arm. I spun around to face him. Behind him, a woman was getting choked, and every time she breathed, the ecstasy on her face was unmistakable.
“Let go of me,” I growled.
“Look at it. You weren’t meant for this.”
But he was? But Serena was? Was I too good? Too weak? Too strong? None of that mattered.
“You love me. Say it, Adam.”
“I’m keeping the love I have left.”
“Why can’t you love a submissive?”
“I don’t know.”
“You can’t love weakness?” I asked.
“I said I don’t know.”
“You’re unworthy of a woman who would kneel for you?”
“What do you want out of me?”
He was hurting me. I jerked my arm away, and he let go.
“I want you to leave me for a reason. A real reason. I left you because I was unhappy. I thought we were incompatible. You’re leaving me because you asked me to submit to you and I love it. You’re leaving me because you love me a little but not enough. What is all that? It’s not a reason.”
“I’m protecting you!”
“You’re protecting you.”
Separation Games
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About the Author
CD Reiss is a New York Times bestseller. She still has to chop wood and carry water, which was buried in the fine print. Her lawyer is working it out with God but in the meantime, if you call and she doesn't pick up she's at the well hauling buckets.
Born in New York City, she moved to Hollywood, California to get her master's degree in screenwriting from USC. In case you want to know, that went nowhere but it did give her a big enough ego to write novels.
She's frequently referred to as the Shakespeare of Smut which is flattering but hasn't ever gotten her out of chopping that cord of wood.
If you meet her in person, you should call her Christine.
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EXCERPT:
“It really boils down to one thing,” Simone said. “Do you trust him?”
She made it sound so easy, but as I examined my feelings and tore apart his words, dissected his actions, I realized that I did. Mostly. There were plenty of things not to trust him about—anytime he came near me with his cock at the ready and a belt or whip in his fist, for instance—but on a fundamental level, I did trust him.
If I didn’t, why would I keep putting myself through this? Why keep bending and bending and bending?
“I do trust him,” I said, swiping my bangs to the side. “I love him. More than I could ever say. More than even makes sense.”
“Then I’d put the baby mama out of your head. He married you, and though I won’t begin to understand or approve of your…weird relationship, he has always come across as pretty fucking whipped.”
I almost spluttered my tea all over the table at her words. Gage, whipped? But the more I thought about it, the more it clicked, because when you got down to the nitty-gritty, we had each other wrapped. “I guess you’re right. I just wish I could get that woman out of my head. The way she touches him, and the way she glares at me…God, Simone, she makes me see red and green at the same time.”
“You need a fucking hobby.” Simone’s mouth twisted into a scowl, but her gaze softened as she said it to take out some of the sting.
“A hobby?” I asked, absently picking at my half-eaten quiche. Apparently, the subject of Katherine made me lose my appetite. Or maybe it was the smell of overcooked cheese. I pushed the plate away, scrunching my nose. “Why do you say that?”
Simone made a scoffing sound, and I glanced up to find her reclined in her seat, arms crossed. “To hear you talk, it sounds like your whole life revolves around Gage and what he may or may not be doing with Katherine.”
A hobby might not be a bad idea. Maybe I could start collecting trinkets, like dolphins or dragons.
Or elephants.
Definitely elephants. Lord knew I had plenty of those in my life. Gigantic ones that ate up too much space and sucked up all the air. One stood between Gage and me in the form of Katherine. But the biggest one sat smack in the middle of Simone and me.
This elephant’s name was Ian, and he’d grown too secure in his comfy spot since that damn note had magically appeared on my door. But it was easier, safer, to focus on my marriage and the interloper named Katherine. The subject of Ian was too dangerous. Too painful.
Simone must have agreed because she didn’t bring him up once.
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