A full-length book from the miniseries readers RAVED about!
Lust is a dangerous thing. It can make you believe things that are not real. It can
seduce your mind and lead it blindfolded to the cliff that will be its demise.
What would you do if you could leave your life? Wake up one day and be someone
else?
I signed the contract. I left Candace Tapers and her slutty, strip club life behind,
abandoned every part of that life with one hesitant swipe of my pen.
The contract was clear:
1. Sex
2. Public Appearances
3. No romance
"I need a wife. I am not signing up for romance, or affection, or a full time job. I will not
love you. I will have no use for you other than sex and photo ops."
Sex with Nathan was easy. More than easy. Panty-melting, can-never-get-enough
HOT. I had begun to think that I could live this new life, showered in luxuries,
orgasms, and diamonds.
Then, I started tripping over secrets.
Disclaimer: The Dumont Diaries contains a strong alpha male, super hot explicit
sex, and twists and turns that might cause unnatural heart palpitations. This book
does not contain BDSM elements.
Find out why readers are saying:
"This man is sexy, scary and a total mystery."
"twisted, delicious, sexy..."
"this book took my breath away, caused gasps, heart clutches and desire for more."
"the writing is HYPNOTIC."
"Phenomenal."
"Intensely Gripping"
"Highly addictive"
"I LOVED IT"
*The Dumont Diaries was originally released, and is still available as a four-part
miniseries. This book combines the four pieces of the miniseries into one, full-length
novel.
Alessandra Torre is a new author who focuses on contemporary erotica. Her first book, Blindfolded Innocence, was published in July 2012, and was an Erotica #1 Bestseller for two weeks. The sequel to Blindfolded, Masked Innocence, will be released in February 2014.
Alessandra lives in the Southern United States and is married, with one young child. She enjoys reading, spending time with her family, and playing with her dogs. Her favorite authors include Lisa Gardner, Gillian Flynn, and Jennifer Crusie.
The Dumont Diaries Excerpt #1:
There are people that bring elegance to any environment. Our VIP room definitely
needed some elegance, built with functionality and economy in mind: worn black
couches surrounding a small stage, black curtains on ceiling tracks that could be
pulled around the couches, dividing the room into four private spaces, each with a
view of the pole. This man sat on a center couch, leaning back, his arms draped out
and across the couch, his feet crossed casually at the ankles, a lit cigar glowing from
his right hand. Behind the couch, two men stood, their features hid by the shadows,
their silhouetted builds impressive. Between them, the cigar smoke drifted across
the man’s face, and blue eyes glowed at me, a smug smile widening as I approached.
I masked my apprehension, holding my posture straight, tits out, stomach in, a smile
across my face. I walked directly to him and stopped before him. “You asked for
me?”
He brought the cigar to his lips, taking a slow drag on it, his eyes raking up and
down my body unapologetically. His eyes flitted to the pole, then back to my face.
“Dance.”
I turned slowly to the pole, feeling the absence of Rick, the emptiness of the room.
It was odd that we were alone, that no one else was in this space. Even the bouncer
had left, leaving me alone with the three men. The house music was piped through
this space, a DMX song playing. I strode up to the stage, gripping the pole with one
hand and doing a slow spin as I exhaled, releasing my stress and apprehension in
one slow breath. You are okay. You are beautiful. You will be fine. I rolled my neck,
repeating the mantra, my long hair sliding over my skin as my head moved. I wished
for the lights, the bright lights that hid everything from me. Then I took another
breath and moved, gripping the pole and swinging my body up and out into the air, a
swirling motion that spun the room out of focus, allowing me a brief, short moment
of invisibility.
I am reckless on a pole, trusting my legs and arms in a way certain to cause damage.
It is a lover I hate and I ride it relentlessly, caressing it in a sensual way that leaves
nothing to the imagination. The beat moved through me and I got lost in its strength,
pulsating against steel, spinning away only to return to it, my heels a blur of clear
sparkle, my thoughts lost in the movement.
My bra was the first victim. One quick unclasp, the release of heavy breasts as I spun
slowly downward, my legs suspending my body upside down above the hard floor.
One outward fling, and sparkles and black sequins became airborne and joyful in
their flight. I kept my panties on, the thin fabric the only thing between me and the
pole.
When the song ended, I was panting, my eyes finally moving, traveling across the
floor and then up to his. Sometimes the most terrifying thing is eye contact. It
certainly was at that moment, when I was exposed, bare and gasping, on the stage
before him. He had the cigar in his mouth and want in his eyes. It was a look I was
accustomed to, conditioned to. But on this man the look was different. Hungry and
possessive, he ate me with his stare, with the blatant desire that he made no attempt
to hide.
“Come here,” he commanded.
I moved carefully, down the steps on the stage, my sky-high stilettos wobbling
slightly on their downward descent. Then I was before him. I watched as his hand
moved, adjusting himself, the hard line of his cock outlined in his pants. He glanced
at it, and then at me. “Suck me.”
Giveaway
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