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Tuesday, 5 January 2016

Book Spotlight: #99c 501 Ways To Tie a Knot by Kat DeSalle and Kristin Leigh Jones

Being a submissive isn't easy. Being one of the BDSM community's most sought after ones that is willing to do, try, exhibit and teach anything…is even harder. Follow Levi as he takes his recently devastated friend, Rod, to Arizona to heal. Levi isn't there to just help Rod as this trip was already planned and is a necessity for his own well-being. He’s there to relax, re-group, and prepare himself for his next cross-country tour to showcase his talents as a male submissive. 501 Ways to Tie a Knot unravels the mystery that is the Amish born man, Levi Johnson, who fled rural Pennsylvania at eighteen to find more from life—to feed his hungry soul. 
Levi discovers that everything in life comes at a price—especially when your heart and soul get involved. On the last stop of his tour in the infamous New Orleans, he’s faced with an impossible situation: two women have his attention—both are lying. What happens when Levi falls in love with one of them, and lusts for the other? When the shocking reality becomes too hard to handle, he begins to question his existence in its entirety. His tediously balanced world gets turned upside down. Will he accept the truth or will what he’s always desired walk out of his life forever? 

The Has-Been Series follows four men on their journeys through their careers, loves, friendships, and the eventual pursuit of happiness in this rat race called life. Their paths just happen to intertwine in the adult industry, where they have all made a name for themselves at one point. Despite their different backgrounds, the men bonded—made their own family. Each man, each story, is its own, but related to the next. It’s not a series about porn, it’s about growth and the very flaws that make us interesting and unique. There will be times throughout these books when you won’t think it’s possible for the men to sink any lower, or for you to adore them and their tales any more. One thing always rings true throughout this series: enjoy your life, your family, and your friends—cherish every moment and remember to laugh your ass off the whole way through. Everyone needs to hear a good dick joke once in a while. Come take a ride on this boundary pushing series with depth and humor.


“You get those jeans on yet, or do you need a hand? I swear, you take longer than a girl. I promise they don’t make your butt look big, and if they do, I’ll lie,” Leylah joked from the other side of the dressing room door. She was now singing about liking big butts and not lying quite off-key. I shook my head and whipped open the door.
She stopped the gratuitous ass shaking show she unknowingly gave me and turned toward me. “I thought you didn’t lie?” I asked.
She swallowed hard as her eyes roved up and down. I only had on the dark-wash, tight-across-my-thick-thighs jeans. I’d left my t-shirt off since I’d meant to try on a Henley, but her singing and joking about lying brought me out of the room. My feet were also bare and I noticed her eyes stopped there before coming back up. Her finger twirled in a circle, indicating I should turn.
I shifted to give her the view from behind and in the mirror in front of me, observed the silent “oh my God,” she mouthed as she checked out the denim stretched tight over my ass. Her features schooled back to normal when she brought her gaze back up and noticed I’d caught her reflection.
“Well, lying to a girlfriend about how their ass looks in jeans isn’t really lying. But you’re in luck. I don’t have to lie. It looks good. Damn good, Levi.” 
She came forward, pushing us both back into the dressing room. Her long, narrow fingers grabbed handfuls of my ass and gave a hard squeeze, eliciting a hiss from me. I tried to find her eyes in the mirror, but she was fully consumed with looking at my body. This sudden unabashed side of her had every muscle in my back tightening on instinct, but then her breath fanned over my bare, freckled skin, sending prickles through my body. The tension loosened and I melted into her touch. 
Leylah lowered to my waist, and I swore I felt her lips on my ribcage. Either that, or I wanted it to happen so bad, I imagined it. My knees began shaking, so I threw my hands up to the mirror to brace myself. Her face peeked around my side and her fingers flicked at the little red tag on the pocket of my jeans. A broad smile covered her sweet, sensual face, the signature rouge blossoming across her high cheekbones. “It’s like these Levis were made for you, Levi.” She snickered a bit, then straightened back up, hooking a finger from each hand into my belt loops. Her chin came to rest on my shoulder. “I think you should get these.”
I just nodded. I couldn’t speak and my hands bracing me against the mirror balled up in an effort to stay in place. I couldn’t force myself on her here, in a dressing room. I wanted her, it felt so right to me, but launching her against the bench, wrapping her legs around my waist, and devouring her mouth didn’t seem like the best way for the first time—wait, what the Hades was I thinking?
Leylah licked her lips as she stared at me in the mirror, a purr from her throat vibrating against my corded neck muscles.
Right, I was clearly not thinking straight. In a snap decision, I dragged my hands down the mirror and spun. Capturing Leylah by the waist, I did exactly what I envisioned in my mind seconds ago. Except, I didn’t dive straight toward her mouth. I stopped inches from her lips and held our stare to revel in the intense connection we held. I wanted to go in, and even though her body was saying yes, her gaze said yes, I needed more affirmation from her. Call it old habits, my upbringing, my submissive training…I needed her signal to move ahead.
Her eyes flicked down to my lips. “Kiss me, Levi,” she whispered. Although it was quiet, her tone held a level of command that had the blood rushing from every corner of my body straight to my cock.
I tilted my head to the side and eased in, licking my lips as I went. Three sharp knocks caused my deltoids to clench and my hips to thrust up into Leylah. She whimpered at the contact and I growled at the interruption, but pressed my chest to her, as if to protect her—cover her up, even though I was the one half-dressed.
“Sir, are those jeans to your liking? Do you need another size? Something to drink?” the perky sales girl asked.
I took a deep breath at Leylah’s neck, caught a whiff of honey and something flowery. Tuberose, maybe? My mother had rows of those growing around the side of our home. I also counted to ten, although I didn’t really need that. The scent of Leylah and the way her hands stroked over my bare back was soothing enough. The overly blonde sales assistant had been persistent since we’d entered the store. I felt she was giving me much more attention than the other men here, but in her defense, and not to sound cocky, I was positive I was much more visually attractive—and younger—than the other clientele that usually came through those doors.
“No, thank you. These are perfect.” I pulled back and looked right in Leylah’s eyes as I said it. “I’ll get changed and we can ring out.”
I pecked Leylah on the nose, much disappointed at our interruption, but also a little glad. She deserved much more than a romp in a dressing room. We needed to make arrangements to do something soon, though. This thing between us was building fast—faster than either of us knew what to do with. I also had a roommate I needed to kick out of the yurt for a night.
I eased Leylah down and gave her hips a squeeze. “We should get back,” I said.
Her eyes cast down a moment then back to me before she tucked her loose, silky, dark waves behind her ears. “Yeah, we should.”

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