What happens when date night involves a blindfold, a corset, handcuffs, or a spanking? The couples in Dirty Dates combine kink and romance in this collection of erotic stories that provides plenty of ideas for your next sexy outing. Your 50th date can be even hotter than the first ones if you play by the rule of Rachel Kramer Bussel, which means NO rules at all except for an emphasis on pure pleasure. Rachel Kramer Bussel has quickly become America’s favorite erotic writer with dozens of best-selling books, awards, and deeply satisfied readers to her credit. Dirty Dates is a delectable collection of stories redolent with romance featuring two people in lust. From first dates to long-term lovers to hook-ups and missed connections, the common theme is coming together in every sense of the word!
Rachel Kramer Bussel’s website
“Recipe for Punishment” by Jacqueline Brocker is a-fucking-dorable. The punishment is brutal and glorious, a quick and effective mid-scene check-in is heartwarming, the achievement is his to own, and the love fills them both.
The games that they played had crept into their relationship like a slow growing vine, curling and twisting into unexpected places until they were the common thread that bound them together. They’d learned the push and pull of each other over the years, and were still learning. And the thing that made the hairs on her neck stand up most in irritation was not knowing if he was plotting, or if he really was just acting like a five-year-old.
Katie picked up the bowl to give herself more traction for thickening the batter. She sensed Will behind her, but wasn’t quick enough to stop him as he reached around her and dipped his finger into the cake mix.
Katie whipped around with the wooden spoon and waved it in his face. “Sod off!”
Will just chuckled, licked his finger, and stuck his tongue out at her.
She rolled her eyes, and gave him a soft shove, but he tried to go for another dollop of mix. She grasped his arm, but he lunged past her. His hands knocked the bowl over, and it spun from Katie’s hand. The batter splattered across the wooden floor before the bowl hit the ground and twirled like a dreidl. Katie and Will both watched as it took its rapid time before clattering against the fridge before coming to a stop.
Will’s eyes flashed with horror and fear as Katie’s face became a mask of rage. A mask, for she was furious, really fucking furious, but at the same time, joyous heat burst through her chest.
At last, she thought. Whatever he had intended when he entered the kitchen, now he’d given her permission to take charge.
The wooden spoon still in her hand, she pointed at the mess, her gaze fixed hard on Will.
“Clean it up.”
Will winced but didn’t move. She held the spoon like the flat edge of a knife, blunt and hinting at danger. And she knew exactly what he was thinking: Was this it? Was it going to happen now? He was trying to read her tone, figure out if her anger was burgeoning with threatening promise, or if she was genuinely pissed off.
Katie would have smiled, but that would have ruined her stern demeanor. Better to let him dangle.
“Clean it up now.”
He nodded frantically. “Yes, sweetie.”
She grabbed his chin with hard fingers. “Don’t call me sweetie. Use my full name.”
He swallowed, the underside of his chin undulating against her thumb. “Sorry…Catherine.”
Katie could have petted him for that; the way he said it always made her feel regal. But she held back. Too soon—far too soon—for rewards. She let go and pointed back at the floor. He scurried to the sink, scooped up a scrubber and paper towel, and fell upon the batter.