Iris Ann Hunter

Dark Romance Author

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TWISTED OBSESSION

TWISTED OBSESSION
  • Available in: Kindle
  • Published: September 1, 2016
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I thought I was the one obsessed.  I was wrong.

****

It was a random encounter that I should’ve walked away from.  I should’ve spared him, but I couldn’t.  There was something in the way he looked at me, something in the way I could still feel the warmth of his skin long after his touch had left me.  It was in that moment that he sucked me in, making me forget the obsession that holds me captive.  But once he discovers my secrets, he’ll run.   Yet he keeps inching closer, and I feel helpless to stop him.

In many ways, he reminds of Him…the man I love, the man I’ve been saving myself for.  But he has secrets too…secrets that change everything.

(This is a novelette of roughly 16,700 words.  It is a dark, tender, twisted read with BDSM elements.  Intended for mature readers.)

*****

Praise for Twisted…

– Well crafted and truly twisted. Ms Hunter’s prose is wonderfully erotic and with totally immersed subtleties of the obsession.

– I loved how twisted this was! So much so that when the “twist” was revealed, I literally started maniacally laughing at my Kindle. Just so good 🙂

*****

EXCERPT…

“Daniel,” I whimper.

He tilts his head, then leans in, his lips brushing against mine.  So soft.  So intimate.  My eyes hood, watching his face, watching the light and dark merge into something almost peaceful, but at the same time pained.

A dark lock of hair falls across his forehead as he slants his mouth against mine and slips his tongue inside me.  It’s gentle, tender, swirling along mine before he groans, then retreats, his eyes drifting down from my mouth to my breasts.

He stares at them, then lifts his hand and begins tracing the outline of my right nipple with his fingertip.  I gasp, watching my flesh pebble beneath his touch, beneath the fabric, feeling utterly helpless on his lap.  Then he pinches my flesh, hard, and I gasp.  When his eyes shift back to mine, they’re dilated, almost black now.

A low throaty grumble oozes out of his throat and he shifts in the chair, pressing his hips upward.  I moan when I feel the hardness beneath me.

“Please,” I whimper, the need so acute it hurts.

“I know, baby,” he soothes, brushing his lips against my temple.  “I know.”

I feel a rush of heat and adrenaline fill my body and flood my heart.  A moment later he stands, places me gently on my feet, then leads me to the other side of the desk.  He turns me around and begins undoing my wrists from behind my back.  It’s only then that I notice what’s attached to each of the two pillars.

“What are the chains for?”  I ask, a little breathless.

I feel his lips press against the back of my head.  “They’re for you.  But then…you knew that already.”

 

 


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I keep this pic of Howard Hughes--or Howie as I li I keep this pic of Howard Hughes--or Howie as I like to call him--next to my writing desk. When I was doing some research on him after watching The Aviator, I came across this photo and it stopped me in my tracks. I couldn't look away. It felt as though he had traveled through time and was right there in the room with me, staring me down. So arresting and intense. And I didn't want it to end. So I put him next to my desk, with my little jade Buddha to  watch over him. I like feeling Howie's eyes on me when I'm writing. Whenever I get stuck or feel myself struggling, I'll look over and find him watching me. I'll think of how he risked everything to chase his dreams. How he never gave up. How the struggles only made him work harder. I guess he pushes me in a way. He also reminds me that we're all flawed...and just doing the best we can. There's comfort in that. I hope Howie finally found some peace. And I hope he enjoys hanging out with me. ❤

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