Review + Excerpt: MARRIAGE GAMES by CD Reiss @CDReisswriter

I received this book for free from the Author in exchange for an honest review. This does not affect my opinion of the book or the content of my review.

Review + Excerpt: MARRIAGE GAMES by CD Reiss @CDReisswriterMarriage Games by CD Reiss
Series: The Games Duet #1
Published by: Flip City Media Inc.
on October 25, 2016
Genres: Contemporary Romance
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THIRTY DAYS
That’s all Adam Steinbeck demands of his wife.
Thirty days in a remote cottage, doing everything he demands. After that, he’ll sign her divorce papers and give her complete ownership of their company.

THIRTY DAYS
That’s how long he has to rediscover the man he once was. The Dominant Master he hid when he fell in love with her five years ago.

THIRTY DAYS
She wants the business they built badly enough to go to the cottage for a month. Cut off ties to the world and do his bidding. She can submit to him with her body, but her heart will never yield.

She thinks this is his pathetic attempt to repair their marriage.

She’s wrong.

my thoughts

THIS. BOOK. OWNED. ME. I hated it. I loved it. It made me feel things I didn’t want to feel. It forced me to embrace these characters and step into their shoes. I felt what they felt. I ached when they ached. It was disastrously BEAUTIFUL and I wouldn’t have changed a thing. Shocking. Poetic. Intense. There is NOTHING more invigorating than experiencing a CD Reiss book…NOTHING!

“Do you hate your husband?

“I never hated him.”

“You’re about to.”

Ok, so don’t let that first part of my review scare you. If you know this author’s work, then you know what I’m talking about when I say that she never gives us LESS than shocking in her novels. What fun would that be, right? One thing, I went into MARRIAGE GAMES not knowing that it was a duet. You know why? Because when CD Reiss writes a book, I don’t ask questions! So, this is why I was so stunned by the ending. Book one in The Games Duet, gives us two parts. The first half is Adam’s POV and the second half is Diana’s. We also are taken back and forth from past to present with these two, which sets a great background for the depth of the story.

God, I wish I could tell you more, but I can’t without spoiling it for you. This needs to be experienced with fresh eyes. Go ahead, read the blurb, but don’t think that this is all there is to it. This was masterfully crafted to leave you on pins and needles, begging for more. Reiss is a literary genius, who reminds us of her incredible talent with each new release she puts out. I couldn’t think of a better way to spend my night, then to spend it clutching my iPad like it was my lifeline, begging for a happily ever after that may or may not come.

marriage-games-teaser

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excerpt

“Pull your skirt up.” I said it without acknowledging the possibility that she’d disobey. It felt good to use those words and that tone. To watch her eyes go to the floor.

“Trust me.” I said it so low she was just within range to hear it. “Five minutes. Then we don’t have to fight over the car.”

I stepped back and set my watch with a beep. It wasn’t about the car for her. The Jag was the least of her worries, but it was a tangible justification. 

For the downcast eyes. For the way her breathing changed. Maybe every bone in her body was vanilla. Maybe not.

“Quit any time,” I said. “Just say the word.”

She laid her hands on her hips.

Curled her fingers.

Gripped fabric.

Pulled up her skirt.

The tops of her thighs came into view then met at the crotch. I was hard already and made no move to hide it. She noticed and stopped moving the skirt.

“Higher,” I said as if telling her how to center a picture over the couch. Higher was where it had to be. It wasn’t a request.

Up it went, revealing cotton underwear in a pink so pale they were almost white.

“Now what?” she asked.

“How do you feel?”

“Weird, Adam. Really weird.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m standing here with my skirt around my waist? Because you told me to? For a car, no less, which is creepy.”

She was so honest. I ached for her honesty.

“You’re not obeying me for an object. You’re obeying me so I do something. Take an action or don’t.”

“You think that’s not weird?”

“No, I don’t. And we have four minutes.” I stepped forward. Part of her discomfort was in the physical distance between us. I’d stepped away so she didn’t feel threatened, but my gaze was keeping her from relaxing. I kept my eyes on hers. I could smell her perfume and feel the shortness of her breath. “Are you turned on?” 

“Sex isn’t going to get me back. I’m sorry—”

“Touch yourself.”

Her initial shock and offense lasted only a second before she pressed her lips together and reached down, shoulders angling, hand thrusting as if checking to make sure her cunt was still there.

We have hundreds of bones in our bodies, and sometimes we won’t acknowledge the preferences of the ones that scare us.

“Are you wet?”

“A little.”

I gripped the edge of the vanity and put my lips near her cheek, millimeters from touching her. 

“You don’t love me anymore,” I whispered. “But I could always make you wet, and you always came for me. Like our Italy vacation. In Florence. Coming back from that club, in the little alley. Against the wall. I ripped through your underwear.” 

Her breathing got shallow and fast. 

“I fucked you in the dark, and when you came, you screamed my name so loud all the lights in the apartments went on.”

“That was good.” She turned her face toward mine.

When her lips nearly touched me, I pulled away just enough. “I said I wouldn’t touch you.”

“I changed my mind.”

I wasn’t fooled. Her arousal was talking. I owned her. She’d do whatever I told her. But I wanted something very simple. I wanted her pleasure. “Take the juice from your cunt and rub it on your clit. Make it wet.”

“Adam.”

“What?”

“What’s come over you?”

“Do it.” I felt her arm move against me. “Rub back and forth. Be consistent. One-two-one-two.”

When I felt that she had it, I stepped back. She stopped. Her knees were bent slightly and her fingers had taken her cunt from the side of the crotch, not the waistband. She never ceased to surprise me. 

“One-two-one-two, huntress.”

“Is this your way of getting back at me?”

“One-two-one-two. Let me see you come. You’re so beautiful when you come. You’ve gone this far.”

Her body must have been able to override her mind, because she moved her finger again, closing her eyes. Her cheeks reddened and her knees bent more deeply.

“In Florence. An hour after we got to the hotel. I came so deep in you that night. I fucked you from behind with your leg up on the dresser. I wanted to thrust my whole body inside you. I loved you that much. And I gave up who I was. Last night, at the club, I remembered what I was. I was a man who was obeyed. I dominated women, and they submitted to me. The result was what you’re about to feel. Complete pleasure.”

She let out a long, low groan, leaning on the vanity, twisting. I could have fucked her right then. I could have bent her over the counter and pounded her. But that wasn’t the point. No. Watching her hand move under her clothes because I commanded it. That was the point.

An uh escaped her throat. Years of marriage had taught me that meant she was about to come.

My watch beeped.

“Time’s up,” I said.

Her eyes went wide. Her hand stopped.

“Thank you,” I said. “We’re done. I’ll send you the title to the car. You might want to pull your skirt down, since I can’t lock the door from the outside.” 

It was hard to walk away from her panting, bent frame without tasting her cunt or even seeing more of her reaction, but I turned the corner, unlocked the door, and left the bathroom.

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About CD Reiss

CD Reiss is a New York Times bestseller. She still has to chop wood and carry water, which was buried in the fine print. Her lawyer is working it out with God but in the meantime, if you call and she doesn’t pick up she’s at the well hauling buckets.

Born in New York City, she moved to Hollywood, California to get her master’s degree in screenwriting from USC. In case you want to know, that went nowhere but it did give her a big enough ego to write novels.

She’s frequently referred to as the Shakespeare of Smut which is flattering but hasn’t ever gotten her out of chopping that cord of wood.

If you meet her in person, you should call her Christine.

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