Kay Jaybee's Blog, page 94
July 3, 2013
5 Days of 1001 Nights- Day 4- Volksie by PM White 99c/77p
It’s Day 4 of our stroll through the library of 1001 Nights Press, and today I’m delighted to welcome PM White to my site. So why not celebrate Independence Day in style with this all American blog and story extract…before treating yourself to this excellent erotic tale? Over to you PM…
Volksie, Volkswagens a turn on
The purring motor turns my head almost every time. Even in the thick of traffic, as waves of sweaty heat dance from the asphalt, brake lights turn red in front of me, and a disgruntled driver (and who isn’t these days) yells in pure rage two cars up from me– the driver ticked at some old man who hasn’t noticed that he can make a right turn yet.
The poor old guy isn’t checking his text messages or messing with his air conditioning; he’s just confused by the noise and the heat, and really has no place on the road. The same can be said for nearly every driver in Arizona, or the entire United States for that matter. We’re all angry, speedy and preoccupied on America’s fat roads and baking highways. We all want to do anything but drive.
But we love our cars. For so many of us it’s the big gas guzzlers we get turned on by – the sort you can camp in, screw in, and bring the dogs in. The phrase “Americans do everything big” is too damn true. Our mouths are big, our attitudes can swell, and our burgers have their own zip codes.
When I hear that vibrating purr on the road I know exactly what I will see. A little domed Volkswagen Bug; like the one I grew up in as a kid in northern California, the sort of economical work horses owned by nearly every hungover hippy in Monterey, Calif. – at least the ones that couldn’t find their way back home when the Monterey Pop Festival turned off the lights.
The windows are rolled down in the purring green Beetle. A blonde woman sits in the driver’s seat wearing oversized sunglasses, the popular kind that make all women look like sexed-up Musca domestica, and she’s got her tanned elbow on the window. Her blonder hair shoots behind her like yellow fire. And I find myself getting a little turned on.
I’ve always thought of Volkswagen owners to be the sort who ride through life with little to worry about. And it’s a turn on. It could be I grew up in the afterglow of the free love era, it could be I grew up around Volkswagens, and I always knew I would someday write about them.
Writing “Volksie” came quite easily. For me the allure is that they aren’t big like everything else in the States, they aren’t even American-made, but they make up a huge subculture in American motoring circles. We trick them out, we chop them up, we race them and, in my main character (Alston’s) case, we find them easy to steal.
And in my case, they’re also pretty damn sexy.
I hope you enjoy reading Volksie.
P.M. White
Extract
‘Volksie dropped her floral skirt to the asphalt and left it where it lay. She wore no panties beneath it. Alston admired the way the sun played along her long, thin legs as she unbuttoned her blouse. She dropped it the ground next to her skirt and stood fully nude on the deserted airport runway. Without saying a word, she climbed onto the hood. The seductive globes of her milky ass thrust toward the hot sun like a carnal offering. Volksie mounted the bug slowly and carefully. Her breasts swayed like firm, fleshy pendulums. Once on the rounded roof she turned and spread her legs wide, then leaned back on her elbows, waiting to be tied. Her pink nipples looked hard enough to cut glass.
Alston grabbed her ankles and pulled her forward. Her ass squeeked on the metal roof. With her legs spread across the windshield and pointed toward the front fender, he set to work on the bindings. Within minutes he had her ankles tied tightly to the metal fender. He popped out the small side windows next and looped the rope through it, then bound the rope to her wrists. Throughout the process, Volksie lay silently on the roof, her eyes closed and her chest rising and falling with excitement.
Once he felt certain she couldn’t slide one way or the other while the car was in motion, he went to the driver’s seat. He shut the door and rolled the window down, feeling the hot Arizona breeze waft over his cheek. He pasued a moment before starting the engine in case Volksie decided to change her mind at the last minute. But he didn’t hear a peep from her. Her legs lay splayed on either side of the small windshield. A muscle tensed on her right calf. Alston started the engine’
****
HOT!!! Thanks P.M!! Nothing like a shot of American erotica on Independence Day!
You can buy Volksie at it’s discounted price from -
Here’s a few details for you, so you can read more of P.M.White’s work!
Bio:
P.M. White is a lover of all things literary. His favorite authors run the gamut from Norman Mailer to Lemony Snicket. White wrote his first erotic short story after a friend, who worked in a New York dungeon, encouraged him to explore his kinky side.
His previous erotic books include the three part Horror Manor trilogy: “Eyeball Man,” “Desire Under the Eaves,” and “You are a Woman.”
His short stories have appeared in numerous anthologies including Sex in San Francisco, My Love of All That is Bizarre: The Erotic Adventures of Sherlock Holmes, Pirate Booty: Erotic Tales of Buccaneers and Captives, Bound For Love, For The Love That Never Dies: Undead Erotica, and more.
White can be found on Facebook and on Twitter at @authorpmwhite.
As you know, all the books featured on my site this week are available at a bargain e-book price!! Not only Volksie, but until tomorrow night, you can get Jeremy Edwards The Pleasure Dial, Sharazade’s A Skiff of Snow, Gregory Allen’s Bottoms in Love, and my Not Her Type, from Amazon for the BARGAIN price of only 99c or 77p!!!!!
AND DON’T FORGET THE…
COMPETITION!! If you read all 5 of my blogs this week, you could win a free e-book!Just count up how many times the word “wonderful” has been used!! (Not including in the blurbs and extracts) and then, after the final blog on Friday, leave me a comment with your email address, telling me the total. The competition will remain open until next Monday, when I shall announce the name of the winner I’ve picked from a hat!!
Come back tomorrow for the fifth and final visit to the 1001 Nights Press library- until then,
Happy Reading Everyone,
Kay xx
July 2, 2013
5 Days of 1001 Nights- Day 3- Not Her Type: Erotic Adventures With A Delivery Man 99c/77p
It’s Day 3 of our trip through the shelves of Sharazade’s wonderful publishing house, 1001 Nights Press!! I hope you’re enjoying being able to buy all the books in this little series for only 99c or 77p!! (Buy links below!)
Don’t forget – As well as having the chance to sample 5 wonderful books this week, you can also win one of them by taking part in this simple COMPETITION!! Just read all 5 blogs, and tell me how many times the word “wonderful” has been used !! (Not including the text in the blurbs and extracts). Leave me a comment with your email address and answer on Friday’s blog. The competition will remain open until Monday, when I shall randomly select a winner from the correct entries!!
Today it’s my turn!! So, here’s a little taster from my very own 1001 Nights Press book- Not Her Type: Erotic Adventures With A Delivery Man.
Blurb - When Jenny’s regular film courier, John, reveals how she has become the centre of his sexual dream world, Jenny’s quiet existence is thrown into an arena of desire that she thought she’d long since abandoned.
One unexpected, head swimming romp later, and Jenny is left wondering if her courier will ever visit her again, and if he does, will he mention the hot sex they had on her living room floor that Tuesday afternoon, or will he pretend that it hadn’t happened?
When the following Tuesday arrives and John reappears on Jenny’s doorstep, the scene is set for a continuation of intensely kinky weekly meetings. There is only one problem. John really really isn’t Jenny’s type….
Extract-
Tuesday – It Begins
What the hell am I doing? I’m a good girl; I just don’t do things like this.
A tiny fraction of Jenny’s conscience screamed at her. The remainder of her brain sent her hands on a thorough exploration of the densely haired chest that had unexpectedly appeared from beneath her companion’s polo-shirt. The fact that Jenny had never liked men with hairy chests seemed irrelevant.
Standing in front of her, diving a hand under Jenny’s top, John squeezed her left nipple hard, wonderfully hard, making her squeal with pain-tingling gratification. Removing her shirt at top speed, John freed her breasts from their confinement.
Moving as if on auto-pilot, Jenny’s fingers visited his trousers’ waistband, but in her haste she couldn’t get his belt undone. Rescuing her from her embarrassment with a smile, John mumbled something about it always being difficult to open and undid it himself. Jenny barely heard him as a neat pair of grey boxers appeared, swiftly followed by—Oh My God—the most beautiful dick she had seen in years, perhaps ever.
As she knelt before him, the voice in Jenny’s head continued its rant, reminding her that she hated giving blowjobs. Since her first experience as a college student, she had neither liked the taste of cock, nor the sensation of being gagged. Now however, working on instincts she never knew she had, Jenny took John deep within her throat. She felt his fingers drag urgently through her knotty, brown hair, raking her scalp as she greedily worked him around her mouth.
“Hell girl, have you any idea how often I’ve dreamt of you doing this?” John confessed. “Night after night I wank about you, about you holding me in your throat like this.”
Jenny was consumed with a perverse pride as she listened to John’s words—making her wonder if she should admit to the stolen moments she’d spent alone with a silver vibrator and her own filthy imaginings. Imaginings contrary to her normal fantasies; fantasies that often featured him…
I hope you enjoyed that- only a mini extract this time, but things happen fast in my kinky courier novella, and I’d hate to spoil it for you!!
You can find my page at 1001 Nights Press here
You can buy Not Her Type as as a paperback, 0r at this weeks SALE e-book price from-
Thanks ever so much for following this peep into the world of the 1001 Night Press so far- don’t forget to come back tomorrow, for a wonderful Independence Day blog!!
Happy Reading Everyone,
Kay xx
July 1, 2013
5 Days of 1001 Nights- Day 2- Bottoms in Love by Gregory Allen 99c/77p
Today I’m delighted to feature the work of the fabulous Gregory Allen. When I first read Bottoms in Love I could not put it down. It won’t surprise you that I like spanking stories- and this one is one of my favourites- just check out my review here.
Until Friday, you can get this fab story, along with all Jeremy Edwards The Pleasure Dial, PM White’s fabulous Volksie, Sharazade’s hilariously clever A Skiff of Snow, and Not Her Type, by that Kay Jaybee woman, from Amazon for the BARGAIN price of only 99c or 77p!!!!!
COMPETITION!! If you read all 5 of my blogs this week, you could win a free e-book!Just count up how many times the word “wonderful” has been used!! (Not including the text in the blurbs and extracts) and then, after the final blog on Friday, leave me a comment with your email address, telling me the total. The competition will remain open until next Monday, when I shall announce the name of the winner I’ve picked from a hat!!
So here we go guys- it’s tasty taster time…
Synopsis:
Nothing gets Carter hotter than the thought of his wife in charge — submitting to her desires in the bedroom. And Lindsey can be the perfect dominatrix: demanding, knowing, pushing all the right buttons. The problem? She’s submissive too. Her idea of the perfect place is at the feet of a commanding husband.
Lindsey and Carter think they’ve solved the apparent problem with the toss of a coin, an impartial system to randomly determine who’s on top — this time. But a string of the coin coming up heads leaves Carter particularly whiny about having to dominate his wife for an evening. He manages to quell his jealousy and give Lindsey some of the punishment she craves, but when the coin comes up tails the next time, his wife decides to show her husband a real punishment.
Bottoms in Love by Gregory Allen has been republished by 1001 Nights Press with added content.
Excerpt:
From Part One: Heads
The dime sat tails-side-up, centered on top of her left hand, the shimmer of the fresh coin dulled by the diamond close by. “Now, don’t look glum,” Lindsey said. “Fair is fair.”
Carter nodded and smiled. He picked up the dime and dropped it into his shirt pocket, took his wife’s hands in his, and leaned in and kissed her. “Are you ready to go?”
She frowned. “Are you?”
As he rose and stood next to her, her expression changed. Her lips parted, her chin dropped down, her eyes brightened. He motioned for her to rise, and she, quickly and gracefully, slid her chair back, swung her touched-together knees toward him, and pushed up. She slipped against him, feeding her arm between his hip and the nook of his elbow.
He led her.
She remained just a fraction behind, drawing brief stares from men sitting with their dates at the dimly lit tables along the way. Her purple skirt wrapped around her legs, falling just past her knees. The white of her shirt, pressed forward by her breasts, emerged in his periphery even as his gaze stayed forward. She loved to play the part of his eye candy to tease him, but he knew better.
The dime had come up tails four times in a row. The odds quickly popped into Carter’s mind: one chance in eight. He shuddered. Of course, the streak wasn’t that unusual, and had it been the fourth time in a row that the coin landed heads up, he would have been perfectly pleased with the result. Lindsey seemed to know what he was thinking, and she squeezed his arm, bolstering his resolve.
A hostess opened the door and smiled good night to them. Carter said goodnight in return, letting his wife out ahead. She waited, just beyond the threshold, giving the hostess only a nod, and slipped beside her husband again. He walked the length of carpet under the canopy outside the restaurant’s doors and handed a ticket to the valet. The city lights were brightening under the arriving dusk.
The rarity of an evening out allowed them to splurge on an overpriced dinner and expensive wine, though a night at home alone, with the kids at her parents’, was the real treat. Tempered only by the unfortunate flip of a coin. The car pulled around and Carter walked his wife to the passenger side. She slipped off his arm as he opened the door and sat in the leather passenger seat, smoothing her skirt, which had ridden up, and letting her hand trail down her knee.
Carter tipped the valet and got in on the other side. He gripped the steering wheel and exhaled a desperate breath. “Can we do two out of three, please?”
“Could we if I had won?”
Carter put the car into drive. “No.”
Lindsey crossed her right leg over her left and squeezed against her husband as he pulled out of the lot into the street. “I always take my turn without complaint.”
“All right. Fine.”
The firm tone of her husband caused Lindsey to straighten and sit up. “Ooh, are we starting?”
“I guess.”
“You can’t guess, if we’re starting.”
Carter glanced down at Lindsey’s knees lightly rubbing together. “Lift up your skirt.”
She slid her hands down the sides of her thighs, keeping her knees touching, acting coquettish. Bunching the skirt, she drew the material halfway up and stopped.
“Farther. Show me your panties. If you’re even wearing any panties.”
“I am.” She obeyed, raising the skirt higher. She slunk a bit in her seat, and the white strip of her underwear emerged, her pussy tightly encased within. “See? I told you I was wearing panties.”
“Watch your tone. You know what will happen.”
She wriggled under his glare. The band of her seat belt pressed between her breasts, pinning her blouse tight and accentuating the pertness of her nipples, which even through her bra showed hard at her husband’s strict demeanor. He returned his attention to the road, but surprised her by taking swift, firm hold of her thigh. A sharp intake of breath preceded a lengthy sigh, and Lindsey slunk down further in her seat. Her skirt bunched around her waist, and she nudged her panty-covered pussy toward her husband’s hand, but he kept her at bay. His eyes remaining on the road, he stroked her thigh without allowing her grinding lap the touch she craved.
Finally, the pinky side of his hand grazed her, and the slight touch released her yearning breath into the quiet enclosure of the car. Carter remained stoic. She slid toward him, and his hand moved once again towards her knee. “Oh, please,” she said, in a whisper, but he only glanced down, smiling, and shook his head.
*****
Hope you enjoyed that guys!
A big thank you to Gregory for allowing me to reprint his work here today! You can check out Gregory’s page on the 1001 Nights Press site here
You can buy Bottoms in Love at the SALE price of 99c or 77p from-
Amazon UK-
Amazon.com-
Bio-
Gregory Allen writes female domination stories for hopeful romantics, which makes this story, about a pair of bottoms making it work, something of a switch. His femdom novels, all published by Pink Flamingo, are Courting Her, Protege Mistress, and Serving Her.
Make sure you come back tomorrow for the third mini dip into the library of 1001 Nights Press!!
Happy Reading Everyone
Kay x
5 Days of 1001 Nights- Day 1- The Pleasure Dial by Jeremy Edwards 99c/77p!!!!
Welcome!!! Over the next five days I have the great pleasure (and I use the word advisedly!), of sharing with you, extracts and information about 5 different books from the stable of the 1001 Nights Press. The Pleasure Dial by (one of my writing heroes) Jeremy Edwards, Bottoms in Love by the brilliant Gregory Allen, PM White’s fabulous Volksie, Sharazade’s hilariously clever A Skiff of Snow, and Not Her Type, by that Kay Jaybee woman!
Not only that- but from today until Friday, you can get all 5 of these e-novellas from Amazon for the BARGAIN price of only 99c or 77p!!!!! (Buy links below)
As well as giving you the chance to sample 5 wonderful books, you can also win whichever of them takes your fancy by taking part in this simple COMPETITION!! Just read all of this weeks blogs, and then leave me a comment with your email address, telling me how many times I’ve the word “wonderful.” (Not including the text in the blurbs and extracts) The competition will remain open until next Monday, when I shall pop all the correct answers names in a hat, and draw out the winner!!
Who better to kick off this kink fest, than the excellent wordsmith Mr Jeremy Edwards, with a dip into his wonderful erotic comedy, The Pleasure Dial!
THE PLEASURE DIAL: An Erotocomedic Novel of Old-Time Radio by Jeremy Edwards
Blurb-
The year is 1934, and amiable New York gag writer Artie Plask has taken the West Coast plunge. His first day on staff with a top radio show introduces him to the irresistible Mariel Fenton, a wit among wits who immediately takes an interest in all aspects of Artie’s life—especially his private life. As Artie finds his feet in a world of blustering comedians, pansexual sex goddesses, timid screen legends, exhibitionistic scriptwriters, and self-infatuated geniuses, Mariel leads him on a zany journey up and down the pleasure dial—a giddy romp through Hollywood that’s chock-full of airwaves showdowns, writing-room counterplots, devious impersonations, naked meetings, and a sensuality-drenched assortment of erotic escapades.
*****
Extract
Her ass. Her beautiful, bare ass.
Artie hadn’t known quite what to expect from a visit to Sheridan’s massage room, here on the second story of an office building in downtown Santa Barbara, but his attendance was being amply rewarded.
After a glass of the sherry that the specialist had offered upon their arrival, Mariel had undressed behind a screen and wrapped herself in a plush blanket. She had then deposited herself, facedown and with her wine-warm bottom exposed, on the table. Her cheeks glowed under Sheridan’s work lights, the plump little curves center stage in what felt to Artie very much like a dramatic presentation.
Sheridan, a thin, blond man with serious eyes and fingers like a concert pianist, rolled up his sleeves.
“Comfortable?” he asked solicitously.
“Oh, yes,” Mariel attested. “Very.”
“Excellent,” said Sheridan. “Then I’ll begin.”
With a deft, professional motion, he placed both his palms against the swell of Mariel’s bottom. The veins on his arms bulged as he applied an even pressure to the two hemispheres—something Artie noticed only in his peripheral vision, as his focus was naturally on the ass, not the arms.
With his thumbs operating independently from his fingertips, the masseur applied a sustained kneading motion. Evidently encouraged by Mariel’s moans, the masseur continued in this fashion for a while, using left hand and right to describe symmetrical arcs of pressure that rolled simultaneously outward from the meridian that was Mariel’s ass crack.
Benefiting again from his peripheral vision, Artie saw that Mariel’s toes were slowly wiggling.
He felt that maybe he should be taking notes.
“Are you ready for the pitter-pats?” Sheridan asked, leaning forward.
“Mmm,” his charge answered.
Artie appreciated how apt the masseur’s onomatopoeia had been as his gentle hands began showering soft, precise pats all over Mariel’s derriere. With the downtown sleepy on a Sunday and thus little noise through the open window, the *pitter-pat*s quietly dominated the auditory environment, while Sheridan’s measured breathing and Mariel’s intermittent moans provided a subtle counterpoint.
Eventually the pitter-pats accelerated. And, as in a symphonic interplay between percussion and strings, their frenetic stimulation alternated with deep, sensual massage movements whereby Mariel’s flesh was at once wrestled and nurtured. Her moans were positively earthy at this point, and Artie could smell her arousal as she presumably—as advertised—moistened the table beneath her.
His cock—his whole lap, it seemed—was achingly hard. He wondered how this treatment would conclude—or did he mean *climax?* And he wished, somehow, he could participate.
Something caught his eye. Beside him, Mariel’s clothes waited in a tidy stack—capped, like Mariel herself under normal circumstances, by the cloche. The cloche with the feather.
No sooner had the inspiration hit than the quill was in his hand, his eyes meeting Sheridan’s with an unspoken “May I?” as he rose. Turning to look at Mariel, he saw the look of encouragement on her face.
The pink cheeks danced as the feather skimmed and skipped, brushed and stroked. Mariel was so relaxed that instead of giggling, she responded to the titillation with syrupy dollops of lazy chuckles. Artie felt feverish as he passionately tickled her bottom, his dick pulsating with excitement. Meanwhile, Sheridan watched discreetly from the other corner of the table.
Then came the climax Artie had wondered about. Mariel spread her legs and straddled the massage table, sitting up and clutching her blanket to her breast to ride her makeshift horse. She had trapped the feather under her bottom so that the quill end stuck out like a tail and the tickly end, one could assume, pleasured her cunt lips as she ground against the table.
Artie watched with fascination as Mariel orgasmed in this bizarre but erotically compelling pose, her face radiant with silent bliss. As she collapsed back to her previous position, he felt his own quiet orgasm seeping into his pants.
Sheridan spoke. “You know, I’ve always wanted to grab her feather and do that.”
“You should’ve just asked,” Mariel mumbled.
*****
Many thanks to Jeremy for sharing his work with us today! The Pleasure Dial is a superb read- you can see my review of it here.
You can check out Jeremy’s page on the 1001 Nights Press site here
You can buy The Pleasure Dial at the SALE price of 99c or 77p from-
Amazon.com-
Amazon UK-
Thanks again to Jeremy for kicking off this short series of story teasers from the 1001 Nights Press- don’t forget to grab your book bargains this week, and do come back for more tomorrow!!
Happy Reading Everyone,
Kay xx
June 28, 2013
In Love With My New Covers!!- The Perfect Submissive Trilogy
Hi all, I just had to nip by and share these with you!!
Xcite books are re-doing a heap of their book covers, and I am delighted to have The Perfect Submissive Trilogy included in this upgrading!!
Check these out!!!
The Perfect Submissive (Book One) is currently available- and all buy links can be found here.
The Retreat (Book Two) will be available from October- but is already up for pre-order- links are here.
Knowing Her Place (Book Three) will be out next year- and not before!! I haven’t written a word of it yet- but fear not, I know EXACTLY what is going to happen…
Hope you love The Perfect Submissive Trilogy’s new look- I adore it.
Happy Reading Everyone,
Kay xx
(PS- yes, I know my name is missing of 2 of the covers- will be sorted soon!! xx)
June 26, 2013
New Release News!!- High-Sticked by Lily Harlem
Today I am delighted to bring you 3 wonderful extracts from the latest work by the totally lovely Lily Harlem, my fellow Brit Babe, and writer extraordinaire!!
High-Sticked is Book #5 in Lily Harlem’s popular HOT ICE series – http://www.lilyharlem.com/hot-ice.html. All of these sexy hockey books can be enjoyed as stand-alone stories though if you read them in the order you’ll meet the hero of each next book as you go along. High-Sticked is the only M/M in the set and follows the story of Rangers player Todd Carty and professional photographer Matthew Foster. It’s hot, it’s spicy and is sure to hit the spot!
Blurb
Dating Todd “Pretty” Carty was a trailblazing, headline-grabbing ride that shocked and divided a team, a sport and a nation. While controversy ruled, our feelings exploded and we couldn’t deny the desire that sizzled between us. Nothing, however, was easy outside the bedroom. Not when my world-class, fearless athlete wanted to shout from Everest that he was in love with another man.
But laying my heart on the line and having my picture dominating the papers was worth it. Everything about Todd turned me on. His bold hockey skills, his courageous attitude and the way he melted in my arms when I kissed him. I melted too, because he knew how to press my buttons, remind me of the man I used to be and take me to those places where ecstasy ruled.
The world might have trouble accepting us, but we’d committed to each other, mind, body and soul, and nothing could change that.
Buy Links
Ellora’s Cave – http://www.ellorascave.com/high-sticked.html
Excerpts
Mild
Finally I came to the last picture. It was another of Gareth and Joel, and one I’d captured spontaneously although the viewer could be mistaken for thinking it was staged. It replicated a famous WW2 picture of a GI kissing a girl in Times Square, tipping her back and devouring her mouth in the most unchaste of ways. My picture had been taken on New Year’s Eve when we’d been out having fun. At the stroke of midnight, Joel had grabbed Gareth, dropped him over his arm and kissed him. Camera always at the ready, I’d captured the shot—ticker tape fluttering around them, people celebrating, lights and noise bursting from the frame. But the real beauty was how they were totally lost in each other, oblivious to everything else. The kiss transported them to their own perfect time and place—a whole year of fun to look forward to, a whole previous year of wondrous times to look back on.
A flush of envy washed over me. It often did when I looked at that shot. “So that’s it,” I said, clearing my throat. “My exhibition is a collection of portraits and landscapes, places I enjoy and people who have stood by me. I’m thrilled the curators at Theodore Gallery think enough of my work to want to show it to the world.”
“You mean other than on billboards and magazines.” He set his bottle on the table.
I laughed. “Yep, other than billboards and magazines. That’s when I’m being told what to take shots of instead of choosing my own subject.” Suddenly my words caught in my throat. “I mean, not that I wouldn’t, I mean, not that I wouldn’t want to take shots of you, obviously, that was—”
It was his turn to laugh now. “I know what you mean, don’t stress.”
His body nudged mine as his chest rose and fell. I quickly shut down the window and flipped the screen shut, tugged out the memory stick and set it and the laptop on the coffee table.
I sat back and stared at my knees. The exhibition and Armani should be the main things on my mind right now. But how could they be when Todd Carty was sitting next to me with his big hand resting only an inch from mine?
The pale fuzz of his sun-bleached hairs skimming up the back of his wrist and onto his forearm made me want to stroke, kiss, lick them. An image of doing so rushed through my mind. Damn, a wave of heat to my cock warned me of an impending erection. I was such a fool. Why was I even here, torturing myself like this?
“Matthew,” Todd said.
I turned, saw his keen, intelligent eyes gazing straight into mine. He was so close I could make out every whisker on his chin, the delicate shadow within the upper indent of his lip and each individual eyelash. “What?” I managed, tensing my stomach and resisting the urge to reach for him, kiss him. Just grab him and make him mine for a few sweeter than sweet seconds. Hell to the consequences. Hell to the black eye I would no doubt get.
“Matthew, I…” He shook his head and his eyes narrowed. He lifted his hand and cupped my cheek in his palm, his fingertips grazing my earlobe and his arm resting down the column of my neck and onto my collarbone. Jaw set tight he said, “Fuck, I want to kiss you.”
“What?”
“I want to kiss you, right here, right now,” he said in a strained, dark voice.
“But, I…?”
“Please, don’t question it.” He leaned closer still. So close his lips were just a hairsbreadth from mine. “It’s just, I’ve been thinking about it so much, and I have to do it, now.”
His mouth connected with mine, big firm lips pressing with both hesitation and determination. It was a close-mouthed peck, not wild, not full of movement, certainly no tongues, but one of the most sensual kisses of my life.
Moderate
The coffeepot clicked and started its low gurgling routine. I studied the way Todd’s black top stretched over his pecs, the gray scarf that hung in a loose twist around his neck and the dark beanie perched on his head, covering his soft, trademark blond hair. An annoying swell of lust expanded in my chest and I willed the feeling not to travel down to my cock.
But damn! Why does he have to look so edible?
“I’m sorry for telling you to leave,” he said, looking back up at me. “You must think I’m fucking pathetic.”
“No, I just think you’re confused about your sexuality.”
“I’m not.” He took three fast paces toward me. Stopped when he was so close I could have reached out and touched him.
“I’m not confused at all. I like guys, I like you.” He paused. “All this running around with women over the years, okay, I’ve been attracted to them, a few I even thought could be special. But, Matthew, there is something about you, and that kiss. Fuck!” He tugged off his beanie and chucked it at the counter. It landed on a box of biscuits. “For the first time in my life I feel I can get the satisfaction I’ve been hunting for and never fucking finding.” He paused and pulled in a deep breath. “I feel, with you, I can be the person I’m meant to be.” He shook his head and his eyes looked heavy and tired. “Matthew, I’m gay, bi, whichever slot you want to put me in. I’ve accepted that about myself now, more than accepted it, I’ve known it for a while and I’m proud of it.” He moved closer still. “So please say I haven’t ruined my chances with you because of a knee-jerk reaction to something so powerful it took away my damn ability to think.”
My mind was swimming. “Todd, this is a lot to take in.”
“I know. It is for me too.” He shoved a hand through his hair, causing it to stick up in a messy but still über-trendy kind of way. “That’s the first time I‘ve said it out loud.”
“What?”
He swallowed, pulling his lips tight as he did so. “That I’m gay, into guys.” He hesitantly rested his fingertips on my forearm.
I gave a hint of a smile. He deserved recognition for his admission.
“And whatever this is,” he said, “between us. It’s the first time I’ve been honest enough with myself to go for it, and I’m excited and nervous but damn well determined to see it through.”
His touch left my arm, wound up through my black coils of chest hair and settled at the hollow of my throat. Each part of my flesh that connected with his fizzed and burned, a heated trail of longing that was sending blood racing to my cock. There was no way I could stop an erection now. I was hardening by the second.
“Todd,” I managed, my voice shaky as his presence engulfed me entirely. I could smell his tangy cologne, feel his body heat seeping into my skin. He was all I could see, hear, think about. He filled my mind, my thoughts. If I wasn’t careful he would wheedle into a very delicate place in my soul. “Please, don’t make me want you. It’s not fair, I just can’t—”
“Shh.” He pressed his index finger over my lips. “Want me all you want, Matthew. You’ve damn well got me.”
He leaned forward and kissed me, those luscious soft lips of his pressing over mine and his tongue prodding and peeking into my mouth and searching for connection.
I wanted to melt into him. Take everything. Grab him, fuck him, claim him. But I couldn’t. My poor aching heart was screaming in confusion, those tight bolts surrounding it since Tony had left were stiff and unyielding. “Todd.” I pushed at his chest, my palms connecting with an immovable mass that didn’t budge an inch.
“Matthew,” he murmured, “give me another chance.” He wrapped his arms around my shoulders, pulling me close and squeezing me up against his body. “I won’t give you any reason to doubt me.” He trailed kisses over my cheek until his mouth rested at my ear and I could hear his choppy breaths.
I weakened into his embrace. It had been so long since I’d been held like this. In a way that was both protective and passion-infused. I felt my eyes sting. Not that I was one for crying but there was a battle raging within myself. Should I believe him when he said he wanted me or run for the hills? Jekyll was wrestling Hyde, common sense fighting against longing and hope.
“Be cool,” he whispered, stroking down my back in a soothing way. “Let me show you how I feel.”
I pulled away a fraction, just far enough to look into his eyes. I saw anxiety and desire, and an honesty that made me want to fall to my knees. But I didn’t, instead I allowed him to kiss me again. Hungrily, passionately and in a way that cemented all of his words. Todd Carty did indeed want me, and in a deliciously sinful way, if his wandering hands were anything to go by.
He was touching my back, my butt, squeezing my ass cheeks through the towel, checking out contours and firmness, learning my shape.
I groaned, shut my eyes and tipped my head back as his wet kisses traveled down my neck. My cock was in full ready-for-action mode, hot and rock-hard, straining against the flimsy towel.
I hissed in a breath as his kiss suddenly turned sharp and nipping. He sucked hard at my skin, pulling flesh into the taut band of his mouth. I clung to him and realized that I didn’t care, the thought of a hickey from Todd was exquisite; it would remind me this moment had been real—later, when I was alone again.
“Ah, fuck, you taste amazing,” he rumbled, heading lower and kissing over my collarbone.
Opening my eyes, I saw the tousled locks of his hair by my chin. I could feel his fingers brushing through my chest hair, tangling, tugging, sliding and circling my nipples. I willed my weak legs to stay holding me upright, his hands on me the most erotic thing I’d felt in such a fucking long time.
“I want you, Matthew,” he said, dropping to his knees and curling his fingers over the tucked-in section of towel.
Raunchy
He looked so damn sexy standing next to the bed. Tall and broad but with a certain vulnerability about him that made me want to get all alpha and protect him. Though I knew that with those fine muscles of his and that sharp speed he needed no physical protection. But I couldn’t help myself. I just wanted to make things right for him—more than right, perfect.
I stepped up to him, my cock already swollen well past a semi. “Lift,” I said, gripping the base of his jersey.
He raised his arms and allowed me to peel it over his head. I dropped it to the floor where it landed silently.
His chest was beautiful. I’d seen it many times on the shoots, but now I didn’t need to disguise the lust or admiration in my eyes. Now I could feast on the sight of his dark little nipples that were small and permanently erect. Stroking my hand over his sternum, I circled each one in turn. Felt him tremble beneath my touch and heard his sigh when I brushed over the slightly pliant stalks.
“You’re bloody gorgeous,” I breathed.
He didn’t answer. I guess he’d heard it enough times before.
My cock was full-on hard now. But I was under control. I had to be, for both our sakes.
Todd wore jeans and a brown leather belt with a silver buckle. Luckily my hands were steadier than the tripping of my heart as I released the clasp and popped open the buttons on his pants.
He was hard too. I could see his cock straining forward. The outline of it was visible beneath the material and the swollen head butted the tip of the waistband.
My mouth watered and my hands tingled at the thought of holding, tasting, worshipping his cock for the first time.
But that wasn’t what I had planned. Not yet, anyway.
After loosening his pants, I pushed them down his legs. It took all my willpower to leave his white briefs in place and not expose his cock, but I did it. I couldn’t trust myself. If I saw him all hot and hard then I would devour him. In one go.
He stepped out of the jeans and slipped off his socks.
I tugged back the thick navy duvet. “Get in bed,” I said, my voice husky even to my own ears.
Without a word, he slid in and lay on his back, his arms bent behind his head, his cock tenting his briefs.
He watched me as I began to strip. When I wore only my boxers, I scooted in next to him.
A small shiver moved over his body.
“You okay?” I asked.
“Sure.”
“Cold?”
“A little.”
I pulled the duvet so it covered both our shoulders then pressed the length of my body to the side of his. He wasn’t cold, he felt warm and solid and his leg hairs meshed with mine. “Turn this way,” I whispered. “Face me.”
He did as instructed, sliding one hand over my waist and tucking the other beneath his cheek. We were nose-to-nose.
“Remember when we first kissed on the sofa?” I asked against his lips.
“You know damn well I do.”
“Well, that’s what we’re going to do again. Only this time there’ll be no ordering me to leave.”
“If you left I’d die.”
“Don’t be so dramatic, you’re a sportsman not an actor.”
He laughed and as he opened his mouth I kissed him. Probed my tongue in and tangled it with his.
Instantly he kissed me back, a small moan filtering up from his throat and swirling out from between our lips. I ran my hand down his arm, onto his waist and stopped on his brief-covered hip. “Like this,” I murmured, “but closer.”
I tugged him toward me and he helped the movement by shuffling.
Our cocks came into alignment, only the barrier of our underwear separating them. “Matthew,” he gasped, gripping my hip the way I was his. “Fuck, you’re so hard.”
“Hard for you.” Damn, he felt good. His cock was as long as I’d suspected it would be from our brief introduction through jeans. It felt thick and wide too, a steel bar of burning rigidity.
“Feeling you against me makes my nuts so tight,” he groaned, shifting his hips so his shaft rubbed up mine on a long, concrete stroke.
I sucked in a breath of warm air. “Yeah, I know what you mean.” My balls were getting the familiar achy pressure that meant they’d be building to an explosion soon. “Lose these,” I said, plucking at the elastic waistband of his briefs.
He didn’t need asking twice.
As he pushed his down, I shoved at mine. My cock sprang free and a modicum of pressure lifted from the turgid shaft.
He gripped my hip again, tight.
I groaned and allowed the wondrous fist of desire to claim me, clamped my hand on his ass and squeezed our cocks firmly against each other.
“Matthew,” he gasped.
“That’s it. Fuck, it’s good.”
“Yes, oh god, yes. More. I want us to come together.”
“We will.” I began to shift my hips, a rhythmic grind that rubbed our cocks together, up and down. The shafts generated a scalding friction that heated with each and every movement.
He copied me, met me roll for roll, thrust for thrust. His fingers were pincerlike on my butt and his mouth covered mine.
We kissed, rubbed, slid into each other until our breaths were erratic and my heart pounded. My brain was sparking, firing from a hundred points all focused on Todd.
I wanted to reach down, fist our cocks in a clamping grip, but I didn’t. When I touched Todd’s cock for the first time I wanted to be calm and savor every moment. Right now I was on the brink of climax.
“Ah, I’m coming,” I gasped into his mouth.
“Yes, come, fuck, come now.”
Blistering pressure raced up the center of my cock, the intensity almost dragging my balls with it. I couldn’t breathe, my stomach pinched into a tight knot and suddenly it was there. A beautiful moment of fulfillment. Warm heat burst from me, another shot followed, fizzing and popping onto my stomach in a gooey slap.
A sharp cry escaped Todd and I let the sound swirl within me. He too was coming. The sound of his orgasm was gloriously uninhibited, unlike earlier when he’d tried to suppress it.
I tightened my fingers on his butt, holding him as he shook and shuddered and moaned through his release. More cum landed between us, sticky and hot, basting our abdomens.
He ran his hand to the back of my neck, supporting my nape as his tongue delved into my mouth. His breaths were erratic and noisy against my cheek. The smell of sex and cum and fresh sweat circulated upward, the stuffy air of the duvet intensifying the scent.
Suddenly hot, I flicked the covers off. A cool waft of air caressed my sticky body and I sucked in much-needed oxygen.
“That was fucking amazing,” Todd gasped.
“That was just foreplay.”
“Fuck!” He grinned and a wild, happy flash seared across his eyes.
I laughed and flopped onto my back, staring at the shadow-strung ceiling. “Yeah, fuck! Foreplay to fucking.”
*****
The Brit Babes have given High-Sticked a rating of ….
Lily Harlem
Lily Harlem Bio
Lily Harlem lives in the UK and is an award-winning author of contemporary erotic romance. She writes for publishers on both sides of the Atlantic including Ellora’s Cave, HarperCollins, Total-E-Bound, Xcite and Sweetmeat Press. Her HOT ICE series regularly receives high praise and industry nominations.
Before turning her hand to writing Lily Harlem worked as a trauma nurse and her latest HarperCollins release, Confessions of a Naughty Night Nurse, draws on her many experiences while nursing in London. Lily also self-publishes and The Glass Knot and Scored have been blessed with many 5* reviews since their release in 2012.
Her latest m/f novel, Breathe You In, is a super-sexy romance with a twist that will not only heat you up but stay with you for years to come.
One thing you can be sure of, whatever book you pick up by Ms Harlem, is it will be wildly romantic and down-and-dirty sexy. Enjoy!
Lily Harlem Links
Website http://www.lilyharlem.com/
Blog http://www.lilyharlem.blogspot.com/
Twitter https://twitter.com/lily_harlem
Facebook http://en-gb.facebook.com/people/Lily-Harlem/100003519563064
Facebook author page http://www.facebook.com/pages/Lily-Harlem-author-page/200182030094568
Pinterest http://pinterest.com/lilyharlem/
Goodreads http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4070110.Lily_Harlem
Google+ https://plus.google.com/u/0/106837751333678531161/posts
Thanks for sharing your amazing writing with us Lily!!
Happy reading everyone
Kay xx
June 25, 2013
An ETO Experience!!
Hi all! I’m just home from my very first visit to the ETO Show at the NEC in Birmingham- I loved it!!
On Sunday afternoon, I was invited by Hazel Cushion, owner and manager of Xcite books, to sign copies of my BDSM novel The Perfect Submissive, and introduce my work to the traders and show visitors, prior to the release of its sequel (The Retreat) in October.
Joined by my famous partner in crime, Kd Grace, we meet fans (I can never get over the fact we have fans!!), chatted to stall holders, and marvelled at the sheer range and variety of dildos, bondage equipment, and fetish accessories available out there in erotica world! As writers, we spend our days trapped in our own fertile imaginations- to actually see that gadgets you think you’ve invented in your own imagination are out there in real life, is an eye opener to us sheltered types!!
Signing Books With Kd Grace
Once the show was over on Sunday, we dragged our weary feet (how were people working trade stands in high heels? Tendons of steel!), back to the Crowne Plaza Hotel, for a few hours of well earned rest before the main event- the ETO Awards.
Dressed in our posh frocks, Kd, myself, and our ever supportive partners, headed to the dinner with Hazel and head gal at Sh Women’s Store, Kathryn Hoyle, we supped champagne, chatted to the smashing journalist Emily Dubberley, and mentally prepared ourselves for our very first award ceremony!!
The food was delicious! Check out this pudding!! Only mildly phallic!! (Okay- so the photo is sideways- can I get my website to play fair- no I can’t!!)
Then the awards began! Best Female Product, Best Male Product, Best Consumable (that’ll be lube then!), and on with lots of very hard working folk getting some rightly coveted awards. The tension around our table began to mount as the evening wore on, until it was time for the Best Erotic Books Brand to be announced…
Well, Xcite Books had already won for three years running, and Hazel was convinced they would never get a fourth award- but they did!!! Or should I say ‘we’ did!! For Hazel has always maintained, and continues to do so, that her writers won the award, for without writers there is no company. It’s that attitude that makes her the best in the business!! You should have heard the cheers!!! Huge congratulation to Hazel, and the entire Xcite team!!
With Hazel and Kd Grace, and the Xcite Best Erotic Books Brand award
Just when our voices had been re-lubricated, we were cheering again as Kathryn stood up to accept the award for Most Innovative Retailer for Sh! Woman’s Store, who, if you follow KD and myself, you’ll know have been great supporters of our work, and the cheers and claps around our table started again!
Then it was our turn- Kd and I were nominated for Best Author.
Now, although we have totally loved being nominated, we are not daft. We knew E L James would win- it was a foregone conclusion. How could she not, when the voters were trade members, in a trade that relies on the sales of sex toys. What we were not prepared for, was the audience’s reaction to James winning- Let’s just say there was a certain amount of booing. Not from our table I must quickly add- we were long since resigned, and totally stunned by the general response!
Yet more surprises were to come for Kd and I- The Facebook and Twitter reaction to James’ win as Best Author was overwhelming and embarrassingly negative. So although E L James may have the actual award (well, I guess she will once it’s been posted to her)-there was no one there to say well done to her, she didn’t get the fun of the evening, nor eat the fabulous food, nor the offer of more work that Kd and I got… So in a backwards kind of way, Kd and I did win- just without taking home something to dust!!
Having said that, James did win the service to Erotica Trade award- and I for one will not argue with that! Sex toy sales going through the roof, hundreds of people finding erotica for the first time- excellent stuff!!
So, with the last few awards to give out, we cheered again for the hotly contested journalist’s award- which went to the gorgeous, and totally inebriated Cara Sutra- before the real fun began.
Drinking wine with the team from Lovehoney (Winners of Best Online Retailer), who have done so much for our paperback sales- meeting the face behind the gorgeous Lelo brand (Winners of Best Product Packaging), and cooking up plots and plans for the future, I for one had the best weekend!!!
So- here I am now, it’s Tuesday, I am back at my desk, with a whole heap of happy memories, a new novel proposal from Xcite sketching out in my head, an over flowing inbox, and a previously written novel to edit by Monday…so I’d best get on with it!!!
Thanks to everyone at the ETO- it was a truly excellent experience- see you next year!!
Kayxx
June 21, 2013
Getting Set For An ETO Adventure
I’m still in a state of shock after being nominated for an ETO Award (Erotic Trade Magazine) in the Best Erotica Writer Category!!
This weekend, Kd Grace, Rachel Krammer Bussell, myself, and two other writers you may just have come across- EL James and Sylvia Day- will find out which of us has won. Naturally, in such a line up, I am holding out no hopes whatsoever- but boy am I loving having the nomination!!
Not only do I have the award ceremony and dinner to look forward to, but the ETO Show itself! This coming Sunday and Monday at the NEC Birmingham, everyone in the trade will be able to come along to see what’s hot in the world of erotica!
I’m very much looking forward to being on the Xcite stand on Sunday afternoon, signing the odd book with Kd Grace, and chief Xcite gal, Hazel Cushion.
Then-comes the awards party!! I can’t wait to see lots of new faces, and meet some more of my favourite writers and bloggers! There are loads of nomination categories- I shall be rooting for my favourite publishers, shop, journalist, web retailer, and many others!
It’s only days away now, but as ever, I still am undecided about clothes- well- I am a jeans and jumper lass- posh frocks are another world! I’ll sort something though- probably in purple, or maybe red…
Right- I’d better go and pack!
I’ll report in next week!!
Happy reading,
Kay xxx
June 18, 2013
Guest Post- Kyoko Church- Inside the Erotica Writer’s Closet
I’m delighted to welcome Kyoko Church to my site today with this absolutely must read blog! How many of us out there in erotica writer world have struggled with revealing who we are. Even now- although I am ‘out there’ as Kay- I’m only half there; after all, Kay is not my real name… I’ll say no more- for Kyoko Church explains it all so much better…
Inside the Erotica Writer’s Closet
Erotica authors are generally like any other author, in my experience in the writing community. But there is one way they seem to be strikingly different. That is, authors fall into one of two categories: those who are out and those who are not.
By “out,” I mean writers like my beautiful host, Kay Jaybee, who proudly puts her photo next to her work to say this is me and this is what I write. By “not,” I mean writers like me, who are a little more timid about this whole writing sex thing, who remain anonymous behind pen names and book jackets with no head shots.
Accepting and embracing that I write about sex has been an almost twenty-five year journey. My beginning, fledgling sexy writings were to my first love at 16 years of age and in a moment that has lived in my mind as one of the most traumatic from my adolescence, my father found them and told me “You have gone from being the apple of my eye to someone I don’t want to know anymore.” As a girl who upheld her father as the be all and end all of unconditional love, I felt the trauma of those words echo through me for years to come. More recently I’ve only considered how that slut shaming experience affected my writing life, that is to say that I was terrified to write anything sexy for over a decade and a half after, and when I did and had it accepted for publication, I hid it like the dirty secret I had been trained to believe it was. I am beginning to realize though, that the implications of hiding what I write are more far reaching than just my career and indeed the shame has stretched out its bony fingers to touch the core of my life.
In the past two years, as I’ve worked harder at making a career out of writing, I have slowly looked to gain more acceptance of my genre, both from others and from myself. As I consider going more public, my final hesitation is around my children. We are new to Australia and to the community here, I am only beginning to meet people outside of my family, and I still feel I don’t have a handle on what the local reaction would be to an erotica writer. In the back of my mind I have wondered if going public could possibly generate a situation where, for example, my little girl would come to me and say, “Mama, Holly says her mommy won’t let her play at our house anymore because you write bad things.” Am I just being dramatic in imagining this scenario? Am I not giving my community enough credit? Is it wrong to want to protect my daughter from such a reaction? Or is it a chance for her to learn that sometimes people can be ignorant and cruel and we must have a thick skin and know and be proud of who we are regardless. That seems a pretty big lesson to learn at 8 years old, especially since I am still learning it at 40.
When the Fifty Shades of Grey phenomena happened last year, among the myriad of emotions and opinions I had about it, one of them was relief. Relief that a woman – a wife, a mother, a contributing member of society – who appeared to be “nice” and “normal” (whatever those things mean) could write a book that had some kinky, BDSM ideas in it and could by and large be met with acceptance on a world stage. Surely that has to be a step in the right direction towards sex positivity and even kink positivity. The more people see and understand that liking sex and liking kink is not deviant or bad or anything negative (okay, yes I realize Christian Grey’s traumatic childhood was used as the genesis of his kink and that’s not very kink positive – don’t even get me started!), the better it is for erotica writers and their careers, on a small scale, and for the general well-being of our sexual and emotional lives, on a larger one.
And then I ask myself, what am I doing to further that goal? Am I just going to sit back and let the EL Jameses, Kay Jaybees and Portia DaCostas of this world do the heavy lifting? By hiding in anonymity am I not just perpetuating the idea that what I do is shameful? Can I say I am sex and kink positive … from the safe little haven I have carved out for myself here in the closet?
Recently I have been working to put together a local reading event with Dymocks bookstore here in Adelaide called Sex In Words. It launches next week on June 25, 2013 and is similar to the In the Flesh event Suzanne Portnoy is organizing in the UK. Three authors will read sexy short stories or excerpts in front of an audience, of whom I will be one.
I have a huge fear of public speaking in general. Specifically, I have never read any of my erotica aloud to anyone. A part of me is terrified of the prospect. And I organized this event. I conceived of it, pushed for it, championed it. With all my reservations and fear, my gut is pushing me forward on this. My internal moral compass is making the decisions for me.
I’m not out there yet. But I’m headed that way. I’m trying to do it with strength, with passion, but with a little patience with myself as I wrap my head around the prospect.
And if anyone reading this happens to be in the Adelaide area on June 25th and fancies seeing a petrified little woman stand up in front of a crowd of people and say four letter words she’s never before said aloud for more than an audience of one, come on by! If you’re really nice, maybe you’ll offer me a drink. I’ll surely need it.
Find out more about Sex In Words, including where to RSVP, here.
*****
Thanks Kyoko! I too struggle with public speaking- I go through nerve wracking hell before I do any reading event- and yet I always love them in the end! Good luck for 25th June!!!
Kyoko is a fantastic writer- here’s her bio, and a couple of her book covers to look out for-
Bio-
Kyoko Church discovered the power of the written erotic word when she was 16 years old and penned a very explicit missive to her boyfriend detailing all the naughty things she wanted to do to him. When he received it, boyfriend was impressed. When he found it, father was not.
For the next 18 years she hid her naughty thoughts in shame, until she found a community where they were once again appreciated for the well-imagined smut they are. Her short stories have been published in anthologies by Black Lace, Xcite Books, Sweetmeats Press and HarperCollins Mischief Books. Book One, Nymphomania, and Book Two, Sapphic Secrets, in her Draper Estate Trilogy were published by Xcite in 2012. For Her Pleasure was published by Mischief in February 2013.
A Canuck by birth, she has recently made Australia her home. She is currently learning to drive on
the left and say G’day convincingly.
You can find out more about Kyoko’s work at-
Website: kyokochurch.blogspot.com
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/kyoko.church
Twitter: https://twitter.com/kyokochurch
Pinterest: http://pinterest.com/kyokochurch/
Happy reading everyone!!
Kay xx
June 16, 2013
Tasty Taster from Sommer Marsden!!- Inventing Herself
I would like to thank the incredibly talented Sommer Marston for sharing a tasty taster from her newest erotic romance – Inventing Herself- with us today. You are going to love this!!!
Blurb:
Sophie Calhoun has a good job writing for a hot women’s magazine. Her latest assignment is to do an article about how a strong, confident woman can look deeper into herself to find her centre. The only problem is Sophie feels lost. On a whim one morning, looking for the answers to her unwritten article and the silent turmoil in her heart, she takes a hike. In the wilderness she finds a very large man sitting alone, calm and still and smiling – everything Sophie wants to be. When he opens his eyes and that smile is directed at her, Sophie begins to find herself…
Excerpt:
‘Now we move into downward dog.’ Joel’s rich caramel voice smoothed over Sophie.
If only she could feel gooey and bendy like caramel. Instead, she felt awkward and clumsy. She pushed back with the heels of her hands as she’d been instructed. Tried to “sink” into the stretch with the heels of her feet.
All she could think was what if I slip? What does my ass look like? And, of course, who farted?
Turned out that wasn’t so much of a myth. Someone had let one go and everyone was acting as if it was no big deal at all.
Which, technically, it wasn’t. It was just a fart, after all. Everyone had gas at some point in their lif –
‘You’re drifting,’ Joel said, his voice very close to her. So close it made Sophie go rigid. ‘Let me help you straighten your pose.’
He stepped up between her spread legs and settled his hands on her hips. Then he proceeded to move her a little here, a little there, until the stretch blazed up her calves and the backs of her hamstrings. It blazed somewhere else too, Sophie noticed as he lingered, tweaking her pose.
When he stepped back from between her legs, his hand stayed on her lower back for a beat before being removed. ‘Good,’ Joel said. He was big and tall and obviously fit. A shock of dark – almost black – hair and grey eyes. His voice was as smoky and sensual as his body.
Sophie felt colour come to her face that had nothing to do with yoga or being inverted. The class lowered slowly to a plank pose and her muscles started to tremble. In her mind’s eye it was easy to put a face to it now. This man, down between her legs, his mouth on her. His fingers separating and skating over her nether lips. Finding her slick opening and plunging deep, curling to tease her G-spot until she gasped. Then taking her own juices, running up to find the needy swell of her clitoris. Circling and circling until plunging back into her cunt to stroke her most secret places again, his mouth sucking, his tongue nudging, licking, licking, licking until …
‘Now lower down into cobra pose,’ Joel said.
Sophie did, but as she did a noise burst out of her. Her body, on the verge actually coming, supplied the small blip and flutter deep inside of an almost orgasm. The sound was half sigh, half moan, and very, very sultry. Way too sultry for muscle stretching.
Joel chuckled softly. ‘Glad to know you’re enjoying class, Sophie. We’re glad to have you.’
She counted the heartbeats until class was over, she was so mortified. When Joel finally told them to stand and everyone gave what seemed to be the customary “Namaste” a woman in green leggings and a bright blue pullover whispered, ‘Don’t feel so bad. He has that effect on most of the newcomers. Once he touches someone … they’re toast.’
Sophie tried to smile and waited to self-combust.
She nearly set a record changing back into her work clothes, but when she came out Joel called out to her.
‘I was wondering –’ he said, sort of grinning at her.
Sophie caught the gaze of the green-legging woman. She was smiling, her look knowing.
‘Could I … call you? Take you out? Bring you wine and woo you with wild yoga tales?’ He smiled at her and the lust that smile inspired struck right down through the centre of her like a lightning bolt.
‘Um, yeah … sure. In fact –’ She broke off, thinking maybe she shouldn’t say what she was about to say. But fuck it. This whole “finding her centre” thing had taken her very close to thinking she was nuts. Might as well act nuts, right? Maybe Joel was that missing something. ‘How about you come to my place tonight. Bring that wine you mentioned and I can make a nice steak or – wait – do you eat meat?’
He nodded, eyes flashing with amusement. ‘I do. But thank you for asking.’
‘Good,’ she hurried on. Yes, this was it. This was a good thing. Maybe she was just in need of a date. Maybe she was just horny. ‘And maybe a salad and whatever. We can just … we can talk. Get to know one another.’
‘It’s a date,’ he said. He gave her his number so she could text her address.
‘Yes. It is a date,’ she said and hurried out of the studio. Kate was going to kill her!
******
Thanks again to Sommer for letting me give you a sneaky peep of her latest work- I can’t wait to read the rest!
*****
Bio:
Sommer Marsden’s been called “…one of the top storytellers in the erotica genre” (Violet Blue), “Unapologetic” (Alison Tyler), “…the whirling dervish of erotica” (Craig J. Sorensen), and “Erotica royalty…” (Lucy Felthouse).
Her erotic novels include Restless Spirit, Boys Next Door, Big Bad, Learning to Drown, Wanderlust and the Zombie Exterminator series. Sommer currently writes erotica and erotic romance for Xcite Books, eXcessica, Ellora’s Cave, Pretty Things Press, Resplendence Publishing and Mischief Books. The wine-swigging, dachshund-owning, wannabe runner author writes work that runs the gamut from bondage to zombies to humor.
Sommer’s short works can be found in well over one hundred (and counting) erotic anthologies. Her short stories have also been included numerous adult and romance magazines–both in print and online.
Buy links:
Xcite: http://www.xcitebooks.com/Book/9657/Inventing-Herself.html
Amazon US: http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00CHQV93M/ref=as_li_ss_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=390957&creativeASIN=B00CHQV93M&linkCode=as2&tag=sommmars-20
Amazon UK: http://www.amazon.co.uk/Inventing-Herself-ebook/dp/B00CHQV93M
Happy Reading Everyone.
Kay xx
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