The Conclusion to Ella James Erotic Fairytale is HERE!
Hansel Part Four is LIVE! 

Read an excerpt and enter to win a Hansel Swag Pack!

My pulse quickens as I see a long lump on the bed farthest from where I’m standing.

For a moment, I think I hear him talking in his sleep.  

For a moment, I think of sliding under the covers with him, just to enjoy the irony. We’re sleeping with a wall between us tonight, but instead of a hole he sawed, there’s a door he left propped open. For once, we can actually reach each other.

But he said he didn’t want your company.

I exercise my will power and tip-toe slowly around the hotel bed, so I’m standing right beside his sleeping form.

At least I think he’s sleeping.

His cheek is pressed against the pillow, and his unhurt hand is curled into a fist up near his chin.

I’m fighting the urge to touch him, battling the forbidden desire to lean down close enough so I can brush my lips over his damp hair. From where I’m standing, I can smell the shampoo he used. It’s fruity; sweet. It’s so at odds with his big, rugged body. As if to make me want him more, he shifts his hips a little, and the sheet covering his chest slips down, revealing huge shoulders, smooth, hard pecs, and the upper portion of his incredible abs.

Oh my.

That’s a lot of muscle there.

I take a step back, feeling exhilarated because he’s beautiful, and I’m a bad, bad girl for sneaking in to watch him sleep.

That’s when his hand shoots out and grabs my wrist.

I let out a little cry as he jerks me toward the bed. Then he’s sitting up. His hands close around my waist and I’m dragged atop his sheet-covered lap. He strokes up from my hips, over my sides, and over my bare shoulders, tickling my neck before he gets a firm grip on my face.  

“What did I tell you,” he hisses, “about coming into my room?”

Hansel.
Gretel.

They were captives who shared a wall, and cut a hole in it so they could hold each other's hands. Until he killed their captor, Mother. Then he disappeared, and as the world swooped in to save the Children locked away in Mother's house, the girl called Gretel became...lost. No breadcrumbs.

Finding Hansel, years later, is the shock of Leah McKenzie's adult life. Finding out how far she'll go for him - that's no surprise.

Leah's given Hansel - Lucas, he says it is - every piece of herself. And he's been both cruel and kind.


What they share is dangerous.
What they feel is dark.
Their history is twisted.
Their hearts already broken.  
And that's before the secrets are revealed.

Ella James is a USA Today bestselling romance author. Her books have appeared on numerous bestseller lists, including the Movers & Shakers list and the Amazon Top 25 overall; two were listed among Amazon's Top 100 Bestselling Young Adult Ebooks in 2012. To find out more about Ella's projects and get dates on upcoming releases, you can stalk her on the following social media sites: 

Stalk Her: Website | Facebook | Twitter  |  Goodreads
Subscribe to her newsletter HERE

The Red & Wolfe Box Set  is LIVE!
Meet Sarah “Red” Ryder & James Wolfe in this erotic fairytale box set.  
Read an excerpt, and enter to Win a Paperback Set of this fantastic series and swag pack!

"Red?" I push her gown down a little further and close my mouth over her breast, working her nipple with my lips. Caressing it with my tongue. I'm rewarded by a soft moan that goes straight to my cock. I need to be inside her, despite knowing I don't have the time. 

I pull the covers down and slide my hand up her shin, then up her thigh. She's warm from sleep. Her skin feels like burnished velvet. My fingers brush her pussy and she lifts her hips. She wants it. I love the way she always wants it.

"Race."

I love the way she says my name: a mew.

"I'm going to fuck you with my fingers," I say, leaning near her face. "Then you'll go to sleep again."

A dreamy smile floats over her lips. She nods a little, pressing her head into the pillow.

I slide a finger into her. She's hot and tight, softer than silk. I can feel her clench as I pump into her. She's wet this morning. So fucking slick. I stroke in and out, painting her pussy, using my fingertip to smooth warm lines around her swollen clit.

I'm rewarded by her crying out.

"Say my name."

I still my hand. I can hear my blood rush in my ears. Race. Say Race.

Her hands grab at my wrist. "Race."

I allow myself a brief grin. It's undiluted satisfaction. She knows - or at least suspects - I'm James Wolfe, but she's still in my bed.

"Say 'Race, please.' I like to hear you beg." I push another finger into her. Her body quivers. "I like to feel you jump."

I stretch her with a third finger and slide my thumb over her clit. I'm moving slow. So slow.

"Race, oh God - yes. Please."

"That's right, sweetheart."

When Sarah "Red" Ryder loses her job as an art critic for a Boston newspaper, she's brokenhearted. Worse than that? She's broke. Her boyfriend recently left her - for a tatted-up hottie with a dick - so she's stuck paying her hefty apartment rent alone. After two months unemployed, there's no money left. With no immediate family to turn to, Red reaches out to her estranged grandmother, a reclusive writer living on an island off the coast of Charleston. Several days later, Red receives $30,000 and an invitation to visit.

James Wolfe is not Red's grandmother. But he beckons her. Red has the ability to give him something he needs. He won't take "no" for an answer, and he doesn't mind screwing her over. He lost his conscience six years ago, when he was tried for the murder of his wife. Since then, life is about him - and the paintings he does under the mysterious pseudonym "W."

Wolfe needs the island to keep painting. To live his life away from prying eyes. To keep up the anonymity of "W."
Once he sees Red, he finds that he needs her, too. And Wolfe will have her. Any way he can.

Ella James is a USA Today bestselling romance author. Her books have appeared on numerous bestseller lists, including the Movers & Shakers list and the Amazon Top 25 overall; two were listed among Amazon's Top 100 Bestselling Young Adult Ebooks in 2012. To find out more about Ella's projects and get dates on upcoming releases, you can stalk her on the following social media sites:

Website | Facebook | Twitter  |  Goodreads

Subscribe to her newsletter HERE

We're thrilled to give you a sneak peek of Hansel, by Ella James, a contemporary erotic telling of Hansel & Gretal and is the third series from Ella's "An Erotic Fairy Tale" themed romances. 

Read a sneak peek, meet Hansel in his dark and twisted POV, and enter to win an advance reader copy of Hansel, Part 1 (pre-order now for $0.99 sale price) coming October 22.

Note: If you haven't read Ella James' other erotic fairy tales, book 1 of both series are FREE. Click Beast Part 1 and Red & Wolfe Part 1 for free now.

I should have called this shit off a long damn time ago.

When I arrived in Vegas seven years ago, I didn’t know any better than what I was. Than what I did. I needed things I haven’t needed in a fucking long time now. Dominating women…it was the air in my lungs.

Now it’s goddamned boring.

I’ve cut back—way back; maybe two or three times a year, like tonight, when we have investors in the house, and my submissives are Luna Trois and French Kitten, a famous porn star and a celebutant bitch who, combined with me, draw a pretty decent crowd.

But this shit is all for show. We don’t do real-time domination at The Forest. Not when my submissives are so notable, and there’s a crowd ten bodies thick behind the Plexiglas wall. Luna and Frenchy had to sign off on the cat I’m palming. On the thick plugs in their puckered holes. On the tight cuffs around their wrists, and the spreaders I’ll use when both their asses are good and welted.

They were happy to agree to the nipple clamps I like to use: the metal ones that can do real damage if left on too long—though, of course, they won’t be.

Neither woman objected to the dual blow job they’ll give me after I spread them wide and use my fist on them, where Luna will deep-throat me and Frenchy will tea-bag my balls. Luna is thrilled that, after she stuffs her throat full of my cock, she’ll spread her legs for Luna’s tongue while Luna lets me fuck her from behind. I’ve got a nine-inch cock, and she told me before the show, she’s shallow, but Luna likes the pain. They all do.

I can’t lie: I like to give it.

I made my name dominating sick showgirls.

A lot of it is my body and my face, my pretty cock and the absurd length of time that I can wield it. But it’s the showmanship, too.

The rough, whispered words the mics can always pick up on.

The heavy-handed spanking—also okay’d by them, although it looks and sounds spontaneous.

The way I give it to them, invading mouth, pussy, and ass, often in quick succession.

People like to think of me as some sort of grand fucking conquestor.

Unbreakable.

Unyielding.

In the six months after I left Colorado and hitchhiked my way to Vegas, where my miserable life began, I made such a name for myself as “Edgar,” my shows at Vixxx would sometimes draw a bigger crowd than the Saturday night fights at the Mirage.

With a pedigree like mine, it wasn’t difficult to sweet-talk investors into fronting a club. I’m good with money—good at betting, I guess—so they were happy to invest again and again, each time lowering my interest rates and increasing the amount of dollars. Now that The Forest is what it is, even the most prudish among them are pleased to have their names up on the donors’ wall inside my primary location on The Strip.

In the last five years, I’ve opened four locations. Financed one sixth of a casino. Built five apartment buildings, invested in one planned gated community, and bought out three luxury car lots.

I’m interviewed regularly by the Nevada Business Times, consulted occasionally by Hollywood, still sporadically beset by huge financial offers from porn studios, discreetly phoned by Wall Street deviants interested in “the lifestyle.”

They all know me as Edgar.

Not my birth name, Lucas Lenore, nor any other name I’ve had.

I’ve made a new life. Become almost famous for my stamina and temper, for my keen eye for submissives and my talent with a crop.

I stay hard all the way through every show, no matter how long. It’s not Viagra. Just my lust.

And no one ever guesses my secret.

At what my private submissives’ gag orders keep hidden.

That after every show, there must be blood.

Mine.

Because I’m not a sadist—not just.

I’m still Hansel. And Hansel is a masochist.

My name is Gretel. I’m the dish-washer. The kitchen girl. I’m not one of Mother’s pets. I’m just a storybook girl no one sees. Until that night. When I find him again, and all my dreams come to life. 

He’s mine—the one called Hansel. I’ve come here to claim him. 

I’m Hansel, a crazy woman’s toy. It’s taken years, but I’ve finally forgotten everything outside my life here in The House. I live for sex and nothing more. Until I see her. Gretel. 

I remember her. I need her. She is mine. 

We're celebrating the completion of the sizzling  BEAST series by Ella James, a contemporary erotic telling of Beauty and the Beast and is the second story from Ella's "An Erotic Fairy Tale" themed serial series. 

FROM HOLLYWOOD ROYALTY... 
TO BRUTAL BEAST. 
ONLY SHE CAN SAVE HIM. 

Read an intense and gut-wrenching scene between Belle and the "Beast" and enter to win a Signed Paperback of the series (Parts 1-4). And be sure to check out the first installation of Ella's erotic fairy tales with Red & Wolfe - an incredibly steamy take on Little Red Hiding Hood with a naughtier and filthier big bad Wolfe. ;)

Note: If you haven't read either erotic fairy tales, book 1 of both series are FREE. Click Beast Part 1 and Red & Wolfe Part 1 for free now.

I can’t look at him. My body’s gone white hot. I keep my eyes on my phone’s screen and try to remember to breathe. My fingers type my sign-in information. The page flickers, then loads.

AVAILABLE BALANCE: $51,110.03

My wide eyes fly to his. “Why? Holt told me the two of you made nice, so why did you do this?”

He closes the remaining two-inch gap of space between us. His hips against my stomach. His abs against my breasts. One hand comes up to caress my hair. “I’m doing it,” he says slowly, “because I want you. And what I want, I take.”

I wonder who else’s he’s wanted since he’s been here. Do women line up on conjugal day to fuck him? If they do, does he meet them here, in this empty library?

“Who’s the warden when Holt is gone?” I ask instead.

“Name is Perkins.”

I’m lost in his eyes. Now I understand that phrase from books: I’ve fallen into them. I blink. Still in. “He lets you do what you want?” I can’t tell if I’m whispering, or if my voice sounds small because the roaring in my head is so loud.

His fingers comb through the coils of my hair. “He and I have an understanding.”

“Not just him,” I say. “Everyone seems to do whatever you want.”

“You want to know how much power I have. Why? You want to know before you fuck me again?” He drags his thumb over my lip. I have the urge to part my lips, but don’t obey it.

“Last time,” I manage. His eyes are rapt on mine. “I wanted it,” I hear myself explain. “But…”

I want to tell him that it frightened me. How utterly I surrendered. The way I lay there, letting him have his way with me. He flung me down and pushed inside, and I— I what?

I welcomed him.

I shake my head. “If that keeps happening…”

Already happening.

I’m drifting like space dust, no longer corporeal. All my atoms are vibrating in sync with his. My feet work on their own. I take a small step back.

“You look nervous,” he says. His hand, still in my hair, turns to my cheek. It’s warm. Calloused. “Come sit down.”

He takes my hand and leads me to a window seat. A built-in bench, pressed up against a wall of glass. He wraps his hands around my waist and lifts me up. I pull my legs under me and look out the window; my eyes scan the patchy, dirt-strewn yard outside. The way the raindrops make the puddles ripple. The sky is white. Stark white.

“Just a minute,” he says.

I turn back around to see him reach onto some shelves along the wall and grab an armful of navy blue blankets. Painters’ blankets, I realize. He sets them on the bench beside me. Smooths one out. Lifts me up and sits me on it. Then he tucks another one behind me.

“Thank you,” I murmur. Despite the blankets’ tattered appearance, they seem soft enough. There’s no paint on them, and they don’t smell like it. Another one unfolded by his big hands, tucked around me.

“You got wet. Warm up a minute.”

I sit there because my brain is broken and my heart feels puffed up like a balloon. I sit there, watching him. The last thing I expect is him, climbing up behind me. He sits behind me and pulls my back against his chest, spreads his legs around my butt and thighs. Gentle fingers stroke my hair off my back, over my shoulders. Strong hands begin to knead.

“Don’t be nervous, Angel. I’ll take care of you.”

Ella James is a USA Today bestselling author who writes teen and adult romance. She is happily married to a man who knows how to wield a red pen, and together they are raising two children who will probably grow up believing everyone's parents go to war over the placement of a comma.

Ella's books have been listed on numerous Amazon bestseller lists, including the Movers & Shakers list and the Amazon Top 25 overall; two were listed among Amazon's Top 100 Bestselling Young Adult Ebooks of 2012.

Questions or comments? E-mail her at ella@ellajamesbooks.com. Ella is represented by Rebecca Friedman of the Rebecca Friedman Literary Agency.

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