Jax's Artistic Journey...

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Wow, it's time for another Excerpt Monday. I've missed a few but I'm trying to get back on track...

Well, I wrote this story sometime last year and it's one of the pieces that I wanted to create a sensual and passionate ambiance. My storytelling is very visual in my head, since I was a screenwriter in my previous life, and I wanted readers to feel like they were visiting the exclusive venue, not just reading about it. This is just a small snippet, but I hope you'll get a feel for what I'm talking about. One of the best things about being a writer is to be able to pull in memories...this one has sprinkles of my life in Paris and my love of exotic, sexy art. Doesn't mean it's based on experience, but I don't kiss and tell.

Since this is a new sale, the cover isn't available yet. It'll be the first thing I do when I get it, though.

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BRUSH STROKES by Jax Cassidy
Publisher: Amber Heat (Amber Quill Press)
Release: January 2010

For Sage, attending the Parisian sex club, Plaisirs Sombres, was the ultimate fantasy. So when the conservative gallery assistant is cloaked behind the velvet mask, she never expected to be the object of the club owner's desire. Spurred on by D.S. Gregoire's erotic and sensual brush strokes of the exclusive club, she gives into a brief liaison that leaves her breathless and wanting.

For Damien, known to the art world as D.S. Gregoire, his art has always been an adrenaline rush. But when an exotic and mysteriously uninhibited 'sex club virgin' enters his establishment, he is willing to break his club rules for another taste of the dark pleasures she brings him.

Here's a short excerpt:

“Tu comprend le francais?” The rich voice interrupted her thoughts.

Sage turned in the man’s direction and felt the wind knocked out of her. Oh my God. He possessed the most beautiful lucid ocean blue eyes beneath the exquisite black mask. His lashes were thick and dark as coal, which only enhanced their beauty.

She licked her lips, slowly assessing the striking face that belonged to a dark-haired Frenchman dressed in an all black ensemble. A work of art that almost resembled the characters in the paintings. She shivered at the vision of their naked bodies pressed against each other, legs entwined as sweat glistened from the aftermath of lovemaking.

She swallowed, her eyes dropping to his shirt that was loosely unbuttoned to expose his throat, revealing a deep tan and a hint of muscled pectorals. A soft glimmer of silver around his neck caught her attention, yet the pendant was hidden beneath the dark material. He cleared his throat, easily switching to English to accommodate her. “May I buy you a drink, mademoiselle?”

Her eyes returned to his face, still at a loss for words. She nodded a demure affirmative response.

“Ah, may I safely assume you are a Cosmopolitan kind of woman?” His accent was distinctly French, slightly diluted, with a mix of British, proving an educated breeding and a strong grasp of languages.

She nodded again and he smiled, flashing perfect pearly whites.

“I see that you are unaccompanied. It’s not customary to allow a single woman entry without a chaperone. You must be an exception, non?”

Sage struck a seductive pose and blinked exaggeratedly.

He laughed a throaty laugh at her silent game. “Fair enough.”

Her lips curled into a seductive smile.

The sexy stranger waved the bartender down and ordered their drinks, ahead of the queue of waiting customers. He must be a regular. Maybe even an influential client.

So who could he be?

She bit her lower lip trying not to let her imagination run away with her. The man handed her the blush concoction in the tempered Martini glass.

He raised his scotch as if in a toast, speaking in a hushed tone for her ears alone, “Ne le buvez pas, belle enchanteresse.” He tipped the glass toward her and took a long swallow.

Was he testing her French skills? She acted as if she did not understand his words and took a slow sip. His rich baritone echoed through her. Do not drink that, beautiful enchantress. What kind of game was this Frenchman playing? Inside, she was smiling at her own trickery.

The man set his glass down and leaned in to cup her face, startling her with his frankness. His mere touch burned her flesh and scorched her body with a fevered desire. He peered into her eyes, as if he was trying to reach into her soul. Her gaze stayed on his lush mouth, watching his lips move seductively. “À moins que vous ne capituliez à mon contrôle....” The deep timbre of his voice resonated through her at his obvious proposal. Unless you are surrendering to my control.

His closeness, the heat of his touch, and his enigmatic charm made her grow wet with need.
Yes. Yes. I want to surrender to you! Her body screamed. She wanted to be taken, to be ravaged right here. Right now.

He closed his hand over hers and guided the glass to her lips. Sage drank the cool liquid and the alcohol coated her throat, sliding smoothly, spreading easily through her system.

He gave her a provocative smile and dipped his fingers in her drink, pulling out the cherry before setting the glass aside. He held the fruit up by the stem, dangling it before her. She paused, then parted her lips in acceptance of his offering.

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