Kinksters at Play (Excerpt)

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Peter paused. His hand hovering over the lock, his keys jingling loosely in his hand, Peter stopped and stared.

Hanging on the door was a photo. Kat, glossy and prim in crisp linen and pinstripes on the page, lay on the lawn. Her head was cocked to the side as her fingers pressed into the keys of her computer. Her pink tongue peeked out to slide across smooth, full lips. One stiletto pump hung limp from her toe, coyly toying with the idea of falling to the ground.

Peter pulled the taped picture from the door, staring intently at her face. God, he knew that look. The hot flush that rushed her cheeks. The wide, hazed gaze of her sly, sparkling eyes.

She’d been writing. Sex. She’d been letting her characters run rampant and ravenous all over her screen, their passions rolling around in her head as they poured and pooled onto her page.

God, he knew that look. Intense and intent, seeking ecstasy as it stretched and reached for release. That look — not all that different from the look she wore during sex, that look that often led to other, even hotter looks — heated his blood and fired his brain.

He opened the door.

Scattered like breadcrumbs along the floor, photos lay face-up like a brightly colored path leading up the stairs. More pictures of her writing. Ones of her reading. He gathered each one up, a small stack building in his hand.

He hesitated, his hands unsteady before he gripped the image laying on the top step of the staircase. It was Kat half-covered in white lace with green silk, familiar as their first time, draping down her body. His mouth, open and dry, gaped as he touched the picture’s smooth finish.

He looked up, seeing the trail of laminated paper lead to his office, one tucked half-under the door, urging him to enter. He stared at the trail.

They weren’t dirty pictures. Not really. Like the ones already in his hand, she wore clothes. See-through lace lingerie and a swath of silk that would always remind him of sex, sure, but all fully covered.

No, the pictures weren’t dirty. They were almost innocent as she peeked coyly up from her book or grinned invitingly over her laptop screen. They were — like Kat herself — provocative. Tempting. Teasing with just a taste that taunted you to take.

Peter smiled like a fool. A happy idiot.

Stooping low to gather all the pictures up in one swoop, he swept them all toward his office door. He’d look at them, really look, later. Maybe with Kat. Maybe they’d pore over her photos — over her — together.

But, for now, urgency rode him. Turning the knob, he wanted, needed, to know what was behind the door.

He expected to see Kat waiting behind his desk. Or maybe sitting in one of the office chairs. Or maybe spread out on his desk.

Hell, he’d have taken her just standing inside.

But the room was empty.

Peter blinked blankly at the dark quiet filling the room and frowned. He didn’t understand. A trail that led nowhere? What kind of game was she playing at?

He stepped inside the room, a flicker in the large window beckoning. It was faint, but unusual. He stepped closer when he heard a sound, a soft moan purring distantly. He walked toward his desk, turning the corner.

There, taped to his screen, was another picture of Kat. In this one, she looked directly—unabashedly and daringly—at him. Her black eyes sparked with excited, even foolhardy, challenge. A close-up, he could only see from the very tops of her breasts up. But he could tell that she was on her knees, leaning forward, her breasts pressed tight together creating a sultry, shadowy cleft that drew the eye. He knew that look. He knew it intimately well.

Carefully, he peeled the page away from the screen, his eyes focused on the photo. But a flicker of motion distracted him. That same soft hiss, sounding sweet in the air, seeped into his senses.

He looked at the screen. Not asleep as it should be, his computer was open to his security surveillance program. The house was quiet inside and out except for two rooms. His office where he watched himself stand stooped over the screen. And the bedroom.

Peter choked on a breath as the photos fell from his hands, spilling out to scatter at his feet. Uncaring, he leaned in close to peer at the screen.

Kat was lying on the bed — their bed — with every toy, from floggers to whips, from paddles to belts, from clamps to cuffs, everything was spread out like a buffet on the bedspread. And her.


His breathing became labored. He sank down into his office chair dumbly. His jaw dropping, he stared wide-eyed and struck.

Framed by the large, thick, oak bedposts, Kat lay on her back, stretched and arched on the bedspread, her long, thin legs parted with her knees bent. Facing the camera, her hands furiously worked between her thighs, a long, thick vibrator whirring as she fucked herself with it. And she was fucking herself, there wasn’t another word for it. He watched her fist thrust, unmercifully pound, against her pussy, making her writhe and moan while her other hand ground at her clit.

She looked wild, needy, almost senseless, her head tossing her dark, tangled hair about her and her unseeing eyes held wide. The sounds, muffled by the minuscule microphone, were raw and ragged, purring roars of pleasure that, even electronically stifled, made him hard as hell.

Peter’s eyes flicked to the other, shadowed, almost eerily still image, where he saw himself perched, practically leering at the large LCD screen. His shoulders were hunched and his face was set in hard, hungry lines.

He sat back and tried a deep, heaving sigh. Christ, he couldn’t go to her like this. Not raving, ravaging, half-hanging off a very precarious edge.

She was his wife. His fucking wife. In their bedroom. In their bed. The symbol of their marriage, of their lives together. Their past, yes, but their present and future too. She deserved better from him than some horny beast. Some crazed man with the

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Written by Deep Desires Press
Cargado June 11, 2020
Notes When Kat and Peter’s marriage starts to fall apart, a community of kinksters brings them back together again in these interwoven stories about how, with trust, communication, and the right partners, play can make life and love so much better.

This hot and sexy excerpt is from "Kinksters at Play" by Sonni de Soto.
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