Manhattan Memoirs: A Bedtime Story
When a night on the town takes a wicked sensual turn, a man must master his own dominant tendencies in order to conquer the ultimate submissive prize—the city herself.
Welcome to Manhattan, a city of secrets. Within its shadows hides a treasure trove of incredible stories. Look hard enough and you’re likely to find one. Dig a little too deep and you might just become one. Trust me, I would know.
Ten years ago, an ordinary man began a journey that would lead him to the depths, and heights, of New York sensuality. Driven by an insatiable hunger to bring the city to its knees, the allure of its women and the pleasures they offered slowly consumed him. Once lost, he never returned…but I did. In the pages of these journals, I hold the only existing proof of an evolution—a chronicle of domination, submission and lust that transformed the man I once was into the rumor I’ve become. As with any great corruption, mine began innocently enough, with a balmy summer evening and that goddamn red dress…
Manhattan Memoirs: A Bedtime Story
When fate offers Ronin a glimpse into a sensual world beneath the underworld, the quest for answers forces a reckoning with the reality he once knew.
They say the truth will set you free, but only if you survive to uncover it. After settling into his new life as a burgeoning Dominant in New York, Ronin thinks he has things all figured out. But when a mysterious encounter offers a glimpse into an underworld of sexual excess, he finds himself forced to reevaluate his own beliefs and the loyalty of others.
Blinded by confusion and driven by desire, now Ronin must unravel fact from fiction, pushing allegiances to the brink in a compulsive quest for answers. But will the truth he seeks lead to the ultimate liberation, or will its pursuit trap him in a web from which few have ever escaped?
Food Lust (A Crimson Confession 1)
For some, the kitchen represents a sanctuary of the senses—a mergence of soul and sustenance that licks at the flesh while teasing the mind’s pleasure. To others, it’s but a steely hive of horror. And then there’s JESSICA AMES, a canned soup kind of girl in a land of haute cuisine whose aversion to culinary adventure once seemed all but incurable. But when she catches the eye of celebrity chef MARCO ADRIANO at a pretentious rooftop soiree, his uniquely sensual take on food whets an appetite that may just prove insatiable. If only they’d had more time…
“Back home, we always say that a good sauce can make anything better,” Marco proudly shared as he blended shaved Parmesan, mozzarella and a pinch of seasoning into his heavy cream base and stirred lovingly. From anybody else, the words might sound like a travel bureau tagline, but he delivered them with authentic nostalgia.
While I sat politely attentive, he wove a familiar story that I’d heard countless times before. This time, however, everything felt new again. This time, he directed every word so intimately to an audience he could see and touch, no longer hindered by the cold glass of the television screen or the one-way discussion of a written page.
“You don’t say.” I reflected back to that night and the wine-laced red silk we spun together. In that sense, a good sauce certainly made me better or at least it sparked my devotion to improvement. “And have you ever put that theory to the test?”
“Come to think of it,” he replied after a moment of contemplation, “perhaps we should. What would you suggest?”
Lifting a long white linen from the counter, I fashioned a makeshift blindfold and cinched it tightly behind my head. “Feed me.”
From my right came a faint sigh of deviance, broken by the crackle of fresh semolina crust. I would have thought it impossible, but my mouth managed to water even more at the prospect of things to come.
“Open.” He coaxed the plain slice of bread between my lips, then dipped a second into the bubbling sauce. I could feel the heat as he approached. Instinctively, I parted wide to receive that second slice—or anything else he desired—on my tongue.
“Dirty girl!” Marco laughed when a splash of hot white cream escaped my mouth and trickled down my chin. As I reached up to wipe it away, he snatched my wrist from the air and pinned it to my side. Then he gathered the rogue sauce on the tip of his finger and whispered again.
Two Way Glass (A Crimson Confession 2)
True love, a beautiful family, and hordes of adoring friends. Morgan Parker didn’t give a damn for any of it. For as long as he could remember, all that mattered was his one-way climb up the partnership track. That is, until the day he makes it to the top and finally stops to enjoy the view.
Now, with the biggest case of his career looming on the horizon, the young attorney finds himself increasingly enamored with the flirtatious Sirena in the window across the way. But when a harmless voyeuristic game escalates toward obsession, will Morgan see the challenge through to the end, or cave to the rising intensity, accepting the most frustrating defeat of his life? The jury is still out…
Finally, she rose and turned to unveil herself fully, temporarily putting me out of my misery before increasing it exponentially. She stood on full display, her eyes cast downward to the floor and arms outstretched to allow an unhampered appreciation of my seductress. A rogue brunette wave escaped her left shoulder and tapered downward, drawing my eyes from her neckline to the delicate curves of her chest. There I lingered, as she no doubt expected, caressing every inch in my mind. The gentle fold of her left knee in front of the right took me lower still, following her abdomen’s natural slope to a tight valley between powder-soft thighs.
I widened my gaze again to soak in her entirety. Her enticing pose bore some reminiscence to a sensual crucifixion, lending a slight sense of the macabre to the already dark nature of our connection. And yet, the body itself was nothing short of heavenly—a truth that somehow managed to deepen the discomfort. But then, I’m a lawyer. What do I know about heaven?
After a generously lengthy exhibition that lasted far too short a time, she pivoted on her heels and moved to the interior of the room, leaving the stage behind with a classically European sashay that so few American women have ever truly mastered.
Obscured in the distance, she circled her desk and rolled her chair aside, leaning forward over the hard wood surface and arching her back as if to tease an imaginary lover poised enviably behind her. Running her tongue slowly across her lips and throwing back her head like a woman suddenly impaled on raw animal pleasure, she opened those devastating eyes and pointed a single finger out into the night, mouthing two distinct syllables before extinguishing her lamp.
Order of the Orchidarion (A Crimson Confession 4)
For years, one thing kept troubled young Christine Bexley on the right side of a life beyond salvation—the promise of a unique apprenticeship, as soon as she came of age, under childhood crush and world-renowned orchidologist, Richard Mitchell.
After three years of flirtation and shameless attempts to seduce her mentor, Christine now stands at the eve of her twenty-first birthday, a gifted orchidologist in her own right. But is she truly ready for the fabled Orchidarion? An exceptionally cruel test of skill and concentration, it can only be administered by those who have already mastered it. Success would place her among the absolute best in the world. But can Christine overcome this final obstacle to complete her ascendance, or has Richard’s opportunity just blossomed for a long and hard payback?
“Are you ready?” he asked with a disarming sincerity.
“Let’s find out,” I answered bravely enough, though I know he must have seen my knees wilt.
“Three rules.” His warm whisper tickled across my ear, even as the severity of his tone sent a chill rippling down the bare skin beneath my dress. “Misidentify two, and you fail. If you choose to quit, you fail. And if you fail to do precisely as you’re told, well…”
With the force of a threat left unfinished, the doors swung open. Only once inside could I embrace the true magnitude of the moment. Where my days in the nursery had been spent among relative commoners of the orchid kingdom, I now stood, half-naked, in the midst of botanical royalty—his prized private collection! As hard as it had become to concentrate with him standing behind me on an uneventful day, the difficulty now enhanced threefold through such an intimidating visual barrage and the wet, tropical air snaking up my bare legs.
We wandered without direction through the daunting collection until, seemingly at random, he would slice the riding crop through the heavy damp with a nerve-wracking crack, pointing out a new challenge at the end of its quivering tip. Despite the tension, the test began promisingly enough as I nailed the first four species without hesitation. But where I should have been encouraged by my strong start, I couldn’t help but wonder what lay ahead. Somehow, I knew he must have been building me up now just to watch me fall later.
The fifth specimen provided my first true dilemma. This time, the menacing black leather came to rest on a lower shelf before a small cluster of frilled flowers whose showy façades sat turned away out of sight.
“That’s not fair!” Almost angrily, I reached out to re-adjust the pot for a better view but the crop slapped my hand from the air with a resounding sting.
“I’m sorry, Honey Bee.” He comforted me with a smirk, softly kissing the welt of tortured flesh. “You observe only. If any flowers need be manipulated tonight, I will be the one to do so.”
My God, he was evil. And I was already dripping.
I did my best to balance on those impractical heels while he watched me bend and flex my body for a better view. The farther I leaned to get a glimpse from above, the larger the cascades of hair that fell from my shoulders and brushed dangerously close to the delicate petals. I froze in terror, unable to move for fear of my first violation, as the burn of his gaze seemed to linger forever.
MALEDICTION: Rise of the Crimson Confessions
(A Crimson Confession 4)
Some devote a lifetime to the endless pursuit of love. Others spend even longer trying to outrun it. Between the shimmering lights of Paris and New Orleans’ commercialized sin, author J.D. Lexx embarks on his latest hunt. Once content to walk blindly in the light, these days he prowls a different world, one of shadow and sensuality where flesh yields to the probing hungers of fantasy. Driven by painful reminders of opportunity left unseized, he roams, tirelessly seeking the next in a growing collection of Crimson Confessions.
Yet these tales of conquest and seduction which have brought such notoriety are merely bait for a more transcendent prey. The one he truly stalks is infinitely more elusive, and lethal in her charms. To win her over, and write the happy ending to this unfinished story, an infamous collector of secrets must now lay his own bare for all to see. Chasing a trail of enticing exploits stretching from Sin City to Prague, every stop leads him back to the beginning…and one step closer to her.
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About the Author
International attorney, award-winning journalist and last of a modest raconteur bloodline, J.D. Lexx has been a storyteller for most of his life and a student of humanity for even longer. Perhaps it’s no wonder that he takes such pleasure in the subtle tease of the written word, in kindling curiosity with every shared tale, then daring the imagination to continue on beyond The End.
A traveler by nature, Lexx spends most of his time between the frenzied streets of New York and the slower pace of New Orleans’ Vieux Carré. When not exploring the sensual psyche through his writing, he can usually be found honing his skills in the kitchen or working alongside charitable organizations to promote literacy and tolerance— two causes not only reflected in his work, but forever dear to his heart.
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