We're excited to spotlight Asking for It by Lilah Pace, an erotic romance that releases very soon on June 2nd.
I devoured it other night & can't stop thinking about it. To me, that's a sign of a brilliant book. It dares to push your limits and take a difficult topic to new boundaries from a psychology and emotional perspective. The writing is flawless, the characters intriguing, vulnerable, & complex, and the sex, WOW, is raw, chilling, and stripped bare. For those who like to be provoked & challenged, pre-order ASAP. BRAVO Lillah on this stellar debut.
This book does need a disclaimer. "Asking for It deals explicitly with fantasies of non-consensual sex. Readers sensitive to portrayals of non-consensual sex should be advised." If you're concerned or nervous about the content, we encourage you to take a chance and read the exclusive excerpt. It's a good preview of how explicit and graphic the scenes are between Jonah and Vivienne. But their story is more than the hot sexual encounters. What starts out is a relationship solely focused on fulfilling a discrete sexual need unexpectedly evolves into real feelings and expectations and lines are quickly blurred. When their past is finally revealed, it's shocking and brutal.
The excerpt is one of our fave scenes and we welcome you to enter the provocative & lustful world of Jonah and Vivienne's love story. Make sure to have a fan and ice cold drink nearby because you're going to need it. ;) Plus! Enter to win a $10 gift card and paperback copy of Asking for It! Happy reading and good luck!
I devoured it other night & can't stop thinking about it. To me, that's a sign of a brilliant book. It dares to push your limits and take a difficult topic to new boundaries from a psychology and emotional perspective. The writing is flawless, the characters intriguing, vulnerable, & complex, and the sex, WOW, is raw, chilling, and stripped bare. For those who like to be provoked & challenged, pre-order ASAP. BRAVO Lillah on this stellar debut.
This book does need a disclaimer. "Asking for It deals explicitly with fantasies of non-consensual sex. Readers sensitive to portrayals of non-consensual sex should be advised." If you're concerned or nervous about the content, we encourage you to take a chance and read the exclusive excerpt. It's a good preview of how explicit and graphic the scenes are between Jonah and Vivienne. But their story is more than the hot sexual encounters. What starts out is a relationship solely focused on fulfilling a discrete sexual need unexpectedly evolves into real feelings and expectations and lines are quickly blurred. When their past is finally revealed, it's shocking and brutal.
The excerpt is one of our fave scenes and we welcome you to enter the provocative & lustful world of Jonah and Vivienne's love story. Make sure to have a fan and ice cold drink nearby because you're going to need it. ;) Plus! Enter to win a $10 gift card and paperback copy of Asking for It! Happy reading and good luck!
"Jonah Marks has screwed me hotter and dirtier than any other man ever has-- and yet my heart flutters like a girl's as he holds my hand for the first time."
- Asking for it by Lilah Pace
Scorching Hot Exclusive Excerpt: Asking for It
The warm breeze tugs at the hem of my red sundress as I watch Jonah. He says, "Looks like you need some help."
"Sure could use a hand." My Southern accent normally isn't that strong, but it's come out to play.
Jonah likes my drawl. I can tell by the way his eyes darken as he studies me. "We ought to talk."
"Talk?"
"About how we're going to handle this." He nods toward the car. "You need a lot of work done, if you want to get moving again anytime soon. Work doesn't come cheap."
As long as I don't say the word silver, this is real. I'm stranded out here, alone, with this man who tall and strong he could overpower me in an instant. And he's my only chance of getting out of here – so I have do anything he wants.
Anything.
"I –" My voice shakes with both anticipation and fear. "I haven't got much on me."
"Sure haven't." Jonah's eyes drop to my breasts, only barely covered by the low-cut neckline of my red sundress.
I blush so hot he can probably see it even in shadow. "I meant, I didn't bring my purse."
"No license? No phone? No cash? Not a very good idea."
"I guess not."
"Don't worry," Jonah purrs, stepping closer. "I've got you."
If only we could be sure nobody would drive along this stretch of road anytime soon. Then he could throw me down on the hood, rip my dress away and take me as hard and mercilessly as he did the first time. My knees go weak, and I have to brace one hand against the car door. I bite my lower lip before I whisper, "I could give you my number. You could call me tomorrow, and I'd pay anything you wanted."
"I don't want your money." He nods toward his car. "Get in. Let's talk."
Slowly – as if reluctantly – I walk toward Jonah's dark sedan. My right hand trembles as I reach for the front passenger door, but Jonah steps past me to open the back door instead. I hesitate, breath catching, before I slip inside.
A lot of guys seem to care about their cars too much or not at all. Either they have sportscars or vintage numbers they fixed up, and they bore you with talk about horsepower and acceleration – or they have totally normal cars permanently littered with empty fast-food bags and junk mail, and they tell you to just kick that soda can on the floor out of your way. Neither scenario is attractive.
Jonah's sedan is long, sleek, and elegantly impersonal. Cream-colored leather covers the seats. It smells like he drove it off the lot this morning. The interior gives away nothing about what kind of person Jonah Marks might be. I scoot to the far end of the car, tucking the skirt of my sundress under me as Jonah slides in after.
He slams the door. The overhead light goes off. Now the only illumination comes from the soft blue glow of his satellite radio.
Jonah studies me for a moment. No doubt he's taking in the rise and fall of my chest, the way I'm already shaking. He makes me wait for several breaths before he says, "Kick off your shoes. Get comfortable."
I obey, letting the heels slip from my feet, even as I say, "I don't want to stay in your car."
"You want to get home, don't you?"
"I – I appreciate you helping me – "
"I'm going to help you, but you have to help me. See?"
This is – softer than our first time. Not an act of angry brutality. Instead Jonah's using coercion, putting me in a place where I say yes because I feel like there's no way out if I say no. Edging me closer and closer to a line that he'll then drag me over. It's an entirely different kind of force, but force all the same.
And it turns me on just as hard.
Jonah brushes one fingertip along my bare shoulder. I shiver as I pull back. He clucks his tongue and smiles. "So shy. That's no way to act with someone who's trying to be nice to you."
"I didn't mean – I'm sorry."
"That's okay. You're going to be nice to me too. Here. Give me your hand."
His fingers close around my wrist, his grip as hard as his tone is soft. He guides my hand down to his crotch, then presses my palm against his cock.
God, he's so big. I remembered that from last time – I couldn't forget it, ever – but still I marvel at the length of him. His cock jumps slightly at my touch, the pressure clear even through the thin fabric of Jonah's cargos. He starts moving my hand back and forth, the smallest, slowest strokes.
"See?" Jonah grins at me, open-mouthed, already proud of himself for getting me into this situation. "I knew you could be nice if you wanted to."
If this were for real, what would I say now? What would I do? I whisper, "I just want to get home."
"You'll get home. But there's no rush. I like you when you're being nice."
"Nothing but this?" By now I'm shaking. "Just my hand?"
"You could do more with your hands. Why don't you show me? Maybe your hands are all I need, if you give me enough."
Jonah lifts his hand from mine, no longer pressing my palm against his erection. He wants me to give him more – to bargain, in the hopes he'll demand nothing more than a hand job. So I have to give him the best hand job I can.
My fingers tremble as I clumsily unbutton his fly, then reach inside his boxers to draw out the length of his cock. It juts up, long and thick for me. Tentatively I close my hand around it. My reward is the first pre-come, slicking my fingers along with the head of his cock.
"Come on." Jonah doesn't sound so patronizingly reassuring any longer. Impatience grates in every word. "You can do more than that."
I begin jerking him off in earnest, tightening and loosening my fist as I move up the length of his cock. Now down again, and I begin using my wrist. He's hot against my palm, and so hard he must ache.
"I want it wetter," Jonah says. "Lick your palm."
So I do, quickly, before going back to my task. Guys have always told me I was good at this part – and I start giving Jonah what I'd give a regular lover. Twist and grip and stroke, teasing the ridge around the head of his cock.
He breathes out hard, and lets his head slump back. I whisper, "This is enough?"
"Wetter." But when I lift my palm to my face again, he shakes his head. "Use your mouth."
"—but – you said – "
"I said you were going to be nice to me if you wanted my help. You want my help, don't you? Or do you want to stay out here all night? Somebody else might stop, and he might not be good to you like I am."
I wonder if Jonah will act out both parts. Whether he'll drive off and leave me stranded – then return in a few minutes as the savage attacker he's now using to threaten me.
Instead he reaches out as if to caress the side of my face – then fists his hand in my hair. His self-satisfied smile has vanished. "Play nice," he says. It's a warning.
"Sure could use a hand." My Southern accent normally isn't that strong, but it's come out to play.
Jonah likes my drawl. I can tell by the way his eyes darken as he studies me. "We ought to talk."
"Talk?"
"About how we're going to handle this." He nods toward the car. "You need a lot of work done, if you want to get moving again anytime soon. Work doesn't come cheap."
As long as I don't say the word silver, this is real. I'm stranded out here, alone, with this man who tall and strong he could overpower me in an instant. And he's my only chance of getting out of here – so I have do anything he wants.
Anything.
"I –" My voice shakes with both anticipation and fear. "I haven't got much on me."
"Sure haven't." Jonah's eyes drop to my breasts, only barely covered by the low-cut neckline of my red sundress.
I blush so hot he can probably see it even in shadow. "I meant, I didn't bring my purse."
"No license? No phone? No cash? Not a very good idea."
"I guess not."
"Don't worry," Jonah purrs, stepping closer. "I've got you."
If only we could be sure nobody would drive along this stretch of road anytime soon. Then he could throw me down on the hood, rip my dress away and take me as hard and mercilessly as he did the first time. My knees go weak, and I have to brace one hand against the car door. I bite my lower lip before I whisper, "I could give you my number. You could call me tomorrow, and I'd pay anything you wanted."
"I don't want your money." He nods toward his car. "Get in. Let's talk."
Slowly – as if reluctantly – I walk toward Jonah's dark sedan. My right hand trembles as I reach for the front passenger door, but Jonah steps past me to open the back door instead. I hesitate, breath catching, before I slip inside.
A lot of guys seem to care about their cars too much or not at all. Either they have sportscars or vintage numbers they fixed up, and they bore you with talk about horsepower and acceleration – or they have totally normal cars permanently littered with empty fast-food bags and junk mail, and they tell you to just kick that soda can on the floor out of your way. Neither scenario is attractive.
Jonah's sedan is long, sleek, and elegantly impersonal. Cream-colored leather covers the seats. It smells like he drove it off the lot this morning. The interior gives away nothing about what kind of person Jonah Marks might be. I scoot to the far end of the car, tucking the skirt of my sundress under me as Jonah slides in after.
He slams the door. The overhead light goes off. Now the only illumination comes from the soft blue glow of his satellite radio.
Jonah studies me for a moment. No doubt he's taking in the rise and fall of my chest, the way I'm already shaking. He makes me wait for several breaths before he says, "Kick off your shoes. Get comfortable."
I obey, letting the heels slip from my feet, even as I say, "I don't want to stay in your car."
"You want to get home, don't you?"
"I – I appreciate you helping me – "
"I'm going to help you, but you have to help me. See?"
This is – softer than our first time. Not an act of angry brutality. Instead Jonah's using coercion, putting me in a place where I say yes because I feel like there's no way out if I say no. Edging me closer and closer to a line that he'll then drag me over. It's an entirely different kind of force, but force all the same.
And it turns me on just as hard.
Jonah brushes one fingertip along my bare shoulder. I shiver as I pull back. He clucks his tongue and smiles. "So shy. That's no way to act with someone who's trying to be nice to you."
"I didn't mean – I'm sorry."
"That's okay. You're going to be nice to me too. Here. Give me your hand."
His fingers close around my wrist, his grip as hard as his tone is soft. He guides my hand down to his crotch, then presses my palm against his cock.
God, he's so big. I remembered that from last time – I couldn't forget it, ever – but still I marvel at the length of him. His cock jumps slightly at my touch, the pressure clear even through the thin fabric of Jonah's cargos. He starts moving my hand back and forth, the smallest, slowest strokes.
"See?" Jonah grins at me, open-mouthed, already proud of himself for getting me into this situation. "I knew you could be nice if you wanted to."
If this were for real, what would I say now? What would I do? I whisper, "I just want to get home."
"You'll get home. But there's no rush. I like you when you're being nice."
"Nothing but this?" By now I'm shaking. "Just my hand?"
"You could do more with your hands. Why don't you show me? Maybe your hands are all I need, if you give me enough."
Jonah lifts his hand from mine, no longer pressing my palm against his erection. He wants me to give him more – to bargain, in the hopes he'll demand nothing more than a hand job. So I have to give him the best hand job I can.
My fingers tremble as I clumsily unbutton his fly, then reach inside his boxers to draw out the length of his cock. It juts up, long and thick for me. Tentatively I close my hand around it. My reward is the first pre-come, slicking my fingers along with the head of his cock.
"Come on." Jonah doesn't sound so patronizingly reassuring any longer. Impatience grates in every word. "You can do more than that."
I begin jerking him off in earnest, tightening and loosening my fist as I move up the length of his cock. Now down again, and I begin using my wrist. He's hot against my palm, and so hard he must ache.
"I want it wetter," Jonah says. "Lick your palm."
So I do, quickly, before going back to my task. Guys have always told me I was good at this part – and I start giving Jonah what I'd give a regular lover. Twist and grip and stroke, teasing the ridge around the head of his cock.
He breathes out hard, and lets his head slump back. I whisper, "This is enough?"
"Wetter." But when I lift my palm to my face again, he shakes his head. "Use your mouth."
"—but – you said – "
"I said you were going to be nice to me if you wanted my help. You want my help, don't you? Or do you want to stay out here all night? Somebody else might stop, and he might not be good to you like I am."
I wonder if Jonah will act out both parts. Whether he'll drive off and leave me stranded – then return in a few minutes as the savage attacker he's now using to threaten me.
Instead he reaches out as if to caress the side of my face – then fists his hand in my hair. His self-satisfied smile has vanished. "Play nice," he says. It's a warning.
Asking for It, Synopsis, and Purchase Link
“This is who I am. This is what I want. Now I need a man dangerous enough to give it to me.”
Graduate student Vivienne Charles is afraid of her own desires—ashamed to admit that she fantasizes about being taken by force, by a man who will claim her completely and without mercy. When the magnetic, mysterious Jonah Marks learns her secret, he makes an offer that stuns her: they will remain near-strangers to each other, and meet in secret so that he can fulfill her fantasy.
Their arrangement is twisted. The sex is incredible. And—despite their attempts to stay apart—soon their emotions are bound together as tightly as the rope around Vivienne’s wrists. But the secrets in their pasts threaten to turn their affair even darker...
Reader Advisory: Asking for It deals explicitly with fantasies of non-consensual sex. Readers sensitive to portrayals of non-consensual sex should be advised.
Graduate student Vivienne Charles is afraid of her own desires—ashamed to admit that she fantasizes about being taken by force, by a man who will claim her completely and without mercy. When the magnetic, mysterious Jonah Marks learns her secret, he makes an offer that stuns her: they will remain near-strangers to each other, and meet in secret so that he can fulfill her fantasy.
Their arrangement is twisted. The sex is incredible. And—despite their attempts to stay apart—soon their emotions are bound together as tightly as the rope around Vivienne’s wrists. But the secrets in their pasts threaten to turn their affair even darker...
Reader Advisory: Asking for It deals explicitly with fantasies of non-consensual sex. Readers sensitive to portrayals of non-consensual sex should be advised.
"I don't just fuck you, Jonah. I bare my soul to you."
- Asking for It by Lilah Pace