The Original Sinners: The Red Years

Palahniuk’s Fight Club.’ —Andrew Shaffer, author of Great Philosophers Who Failed at Love

‘Tiffany Reisz is a smart, artful and masterful new voice

in erotic fiction. An erotica star on the rise!’

—Award-winning author Lacey Alexander

‘Daring, sophisticated and literary … exactly what good

erotica should be.’

—Kitty Thomas, author of Tender Mercies

‘Dazzling, devastating and sinfully erotic, Reisz writes

unforgettable characters you’ll either want to know or want

to be. The Siren is an alluring book-within-a-book, a story that will leave you breathless and bruised, aching for another chapter with Nora Sutherlin and her men.’ —Miranda Baker, author of Bottoms Up and Soloplay

‘You will most definitely feel strongly for these characters …

this was an amazing story and I’m so happy that it’s not over.

I can’t wait to jump back into Nora’s world.’

—http://ladysbookstuff.blogspot.co.uk

About the Author

TIFFANY REISZ lives in Lexington, Kentucky. She graduated with a BA in English from Centre College and is making her parents and her professors proud by writing erotica under her real name. She has five piercings, one tattoo and has been arrested twice. When not under arrest, Tiffany enjoys Latin dance, Latin men and Latin verbs. She dropped out of a conservative seminary in order to pursue her dream of becoming a smut peddler. If she couldn’t write, she would die.

Also by Tiffany Reisz:

SEVEN-DAY LOAN

(part of 12 Shades of Surrender: Bound)

THE SIREN

(Original Sinners 1)

Watch out for the third book in

The Original Sinners series

THE PRINCE

Available in December from

Mills & Boon

SPICE

To Gina Scalera, my Angel. I miss you.

To Eve, the original Original Sinner.

And to Andrew Shaffer, many waters …

Part I

1

“Fudge.”

Mostly upside down with her head hanging off the bed, Nora saw the ominous slant of sunlight sliding through the window and across the floor. S?ren pushed into her again, and she flinched with pleasure.

“Eleanor, are you thinking about food at a time like this?” S?ren thrust hard once more and came with a controlled shudder.

Laughing from her recent orgasm and the absurdity of having this conversation in her current position, Nora finished her thought. “You’re the one who told me I wasn’t allowed to swear on Sundays anymore. So, fudge, I’m going to be late for Mass, sir.”

S?ren dipped his head and kissed her neck.

“I have it on good authority that your priest would be quite displeased if you were late,” he whispered into her ear.

“Then my priest needs to untie my leg from his bedpost.”

S?ren raised up and glared down at her; she innocently batted her eyelashes at him.

“Beg,” he ordered, and Nora started to growl. Arrogant son of a bitch.

He never said anything about not swearing in her mind. Just that she could never curse out loud.

S?ren put a finger over her lips.

“No growling. Begging.”

Clenching and unclenching her jaw, Nora took a deep breath.

“Please, sir, will you let me go so I can drive my as—bottom home, take a shower, eat breakfast for once this week, throw on some clothes and drive back to church so I can sit in my pew looking prim and proper all the while imagining you naked as you’re giving some homily on sin and how, shockingly, God’s against it? Pretty please with you on top?”

S?ren slapped the back of her thigh hard enough she yelped. But still he reached up and unknotted the black silk rope from her ankle. With obvious reluctance, he withdrew from her and rolled onto his side.

Now free, Nora started to crawl out of his bed.

S?ren propped his head on his hand and stretched languidly across his white sheets. She wasn’t going to look at him. If she looked at S?ren, she’d crawl right back to him.

“In a hurry, little one?”