Lily Harlem's Blog, page 281

Sunday Snog - Shared.

Welcome to Sunday Snog. I've gone back to Shared, my first Ellora's Cave novel for a sexy, smoochy excerpt today. Liam, Quinn and Ariane are some of my favourite characters of all time. They called to me whenever I was in Cardiff and I just had to write their raunchy menage story and all the twists and turns that went with it.



This excerpt is taken from about quarter of the way into the book. Ariane is in bed with Liam when Quinn comes back from the hospital...

I shifted my hips on the mattress as Liam’s hungry lips trailed down to my breast and then sucked on my nipple. He nipped it between his teeth and the small bite of erotic pain sent sparks flying to my clit. I groaned and murmured for more. He switched to the other breast as his hand took over tweaking and twirling the damp, erect nipple his mouth had just left. The bristles on his chin scratched my delicate flesh as he literally ate me up. I could feel my pussy swelling, humming, aching for attention once more. Liam was more urgent than earlier, more resolute in the way he was kissing me. There was a little roughness, wildness mixed in.“Liam,” I murmured, reaching out and feeling hard, wide-boned shoulders.“Mmm...” Liam said from the pillow next to me, his hand reached to cup my jaw and then he planted a gentle kiss on my lips.“What...?” Confusion seared through my veins. I dragged myself upward. The kissing at my breasts stopped abruptly. “What is...?”“Hey, it’s okay.” A hot, hard, freshly showered body loomed over mine.“Quinn?” I asked, full of surprise.“I’m so glad you stayed,” Quinn murmured, pulling me flat again. Liam was still cupping my jaw but Quinn dodged his hand and kissed me—a, firm, passionate, kiss. “I could hardly wait to get home,” he said into my mouth. “To see you, to kiss you, to hold you.”“But, you... I’m in bed with...” My sleepy mind struggled. I know they’d said share but did they mean literally, share me...at the same time? “Is that okay? Is this okay?”“Of course it’s okay,” Liam said. His big hand scooped up my breast and his thumb flicked over the nipple. “Quinn and I have no attraction toward each other, we’re not gay, but making love to you, together, seems like an enormous amount of fun for all of us, don’t you think?”“I...” My mind whirred whilst my body did cartwheels of excitement. These boys were so bad! “I guess, if that’s what you want?”“It’s most definitely what we want,” Liam said softly. “And I think it’s what you want too, Ariane.”I couldn’t deny my desire. It was like another living breathing part of me. I wanted them both, desperately.“I take it Liam looked after you well when I had to leave?” Quinn said, settling the long length of his naked, shower-damp body against the side of mine.“Yes,” I said, shifting to face Quinn. I reached out to trace my finger through the crisp hairs on his chest. “Liam looked after me wonderfully.”Liam scooped in behind me, nuzzled a kiss into the nape of my neck as his hand sneaked around to caress my belly.“Glad to hear it,” Quinn said from the darkness. “Because that’s the plan. There’ll always be one of us to look after you...in every sense of the word.” I felt his hand join Liam’s in the sweeping exploration of my body, sliding up and over my breasts, following the curve of my hips and dipping into my waist. Then Quinn’s hand hooked under my thigh and he pulled my top leg over his hip. “You do want us both, Ariane, don’t you?”“Yes,” I whispered, suddenly understanding what was going to happen, right now, this very minute. “Yes, I do.”Quinn’s mouth caught mine at the same time as the head of his cock arrowed through my pubes. I still felt wet from the sex I’d had earlier and Quinn’s slide toward my entrance was hot and easy.“This is what I kept thinking of,” Quinn muttered, his fingers wrapping around the flesh of my thigh and holding me firm. “All the way home, I kept imagining what it would be like to be inside you, to have my dick inside you. I knew how good you felt on my fingers and I wanted to experience that hot, juicy tightness wrapped around my cock. I wanted it so much I had to stop myself coming just thinking about it.”I squirmed my hips, greedy for him to enter me. The thought that he could come just thinking about me was a massive turn-on. “Quinn,” I husked, remembering what an expert he was with his fingers and wondering what the hell he could do with his cock. “Please, just fuck me.”I didn’t need to ask him twice. He pounded in with a grunt. Hard and fast, right in on the first devastating thrust. I cried out. Pain and pleasure mixed as his long, steely cock invaded my body. It felt glorious, he was so hard and so long, stretching and filling me to capacity.“Ah, so fucking good,” Quinn said in a tight voice and clamping me with his arms and legs. “You feel amazing, Ariane, wet and ready for it, perfect.”“Great isn’t she?” Liam said over my shoulder. His hands were in my hair, scooping it back from my face and neck, dragging it into a ponytail. His fingertips sent tickles of sensation over my already buzzing flesh.Quinn jerked his hips again, pushed in even farther. My mouth opened to let out the air he knocked from my lungs as he caught a rhythm. It wasn’t the smooth ride Liam had taken me on, it was frantic, determined. If he hadn’t been holding me my head would have banged against the headboard, hell it would have gone through the headboard. His coarse pubes rubbed against mine and the tough bone of his pubis rammed against my clit over and over as deep inside me his thick shaft teased my G- spot. It felt wonderful and my mind began to spiral into ecstasy as he upped the pace even more, bashing me into Liam’s chest and holding me firm all at the same time.“Ah, Jeez, she’s too good,” Quinn said, freezing at the hilt.“No, please, don’t stop,” I wailed, clawing my fingers into his flesh. I’d been so close, my orgasm within reach.“I have to, just for second, Liam, take over will you?” Quinn pulled out, but I didn’t have time to murmur a complaint, because as soon as he slipped away the head of Liam’s cock pushed into me from behind.I let out a long, low groan as he wrapped a concrete forearm around my waist and buried himself deep in my pussy. I shifted my leg higher over Quinn’s hip to draw Liam in even farther. Liam blew out a long breath by my ear and then nibbled on my neck.Quinn’s lips pressed on mine, he palmed my breasts as Liam’s cock slid back and forth over my needy G-spot, filling me, consuming me. I began to feel feverish, trembling with the need to orgasm. But I needed attention on my clit, it was throbbing with desperation. I couldn’t tip over the edge without it.“Please,” I said. My hands dragged frantically over Quinn’s body as my hips pushed down against Liam. “Let me come.”“Okay,” Quinn said. “Since you asked so nicely.”Liam slipped from me and Quinn’s cock took its place with barely a pause in rhythm. He shoved in again and his pubis connected once more with my clit. Liam pinched my chin and turned my head halfway over my shoulder. He kissed me, his tongue probing in time with Quinn’s cock. I felt consumed by the darkness, by the hot, hard men around me, in me, taking me higher and higher. White-hot lights flashed before me, Liam’s cock settled in the crack of my butt and then I was there. I called into his mouth, “I’m coming.”
I hope you enjoyed this smokin'' hot moment. I got carried away after writing Shared and wrote Shared Too. The characters just wouldn't leave me alone.

There's something about menage that really appeals to me as a writer, there are so many different angles and emotions that can be played with. If you check out my Pinterest pages, I have one on Shared and Shared Too and another on menage - feel free to leave comments.

Have a great weekend.
Lily x

Cornish Cream by Steve Geoffreys

Prepare yourself for an erotic roller-coaster of a read from the very first chapter in the novel Cornish Cream by Steve Geoffreys. In the story a lottery winning couple, Jeff and Sarah Stevenson rent a cottage in Cornwall, England for their first anniversary and to act out their own top ten sex fantasies on each other. But, when they arrive back home in London after their debauched week away a nasty surprise drops through their letterbox. The owner of the cottage, Lord Smedley has sent them a rather large bill that will rock their perfect world if they don't pay up. It opens a can of worms and during the drama that ensues, surprises and revelations surface that bring on a final twist.
Available from:
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Excerpt:
Jeff’s thumbs teased at the cork of the bottle of Tattinger Champagne. Sarah sat at the dining table with her fingers in her ears. The cork popped and narrowly missed the crystal chandelier, bounced off the high ceiling of their Georgian townhouse, and landed near to one of their original Tiffany table lamps. Sarah squealed in delight as the millions of bubbles ejaculated over the bottle’s neck and down Jeff’s hands. ‘Happy anniversary darling.’ Grinned Jeff as he filled two Champagne flutes and placed the bottle back into the solid silver ice bucket. ‘Yes, our first anniversary. What present have you got for me? You do know that it has got to be paper for a first anniversary present don’t you?’ Sarah asked as Jeff handed her the glass. ‘It is paper yes, but you will need to down that glass and remain sitting down when I give it to you.’ Jeff smirked one of his knowing smiles. Sarah frowned her usual way that she did when he said something to confuse, bewilder, or intrigue her. ‘Oh my god, it’s not a divorce petition for me to sign is it? Just because you won all that money, you want to trade me in for a much younger model don’t you?’ She asked before gulping down half the glass. Jeff laughed loudly. ‘Don’t be ridiculous. I would not trade you in for all the money in the world. You’re one in a million.’ ‘One in eight million eight hundred thousand four hundred and sixty nine pounds don’t you mean?’ Sarah added. ‘Not forgetting the fifty seven pence let alone the interest that is accruing on a daily basis!’ Jeff chipped in. Sarah emptied her glass and Jeff went to top it up again. ‘Trying to get me drunk and take advantage of me are you?’ Jeff just winked and poured away.‘Anyway, I have just emptied my glass so where is my present?’ She asked with a hiccup. Jeff opened a drawer on the dining table where the solid silver cutlery was kept and handed a gift wrapped parcel to Sarah. She took it and felt it in a mock curiosity. ‘Mmmh let me guess, is it a book. Is it that new romance novel I mentioned a couple of weeks ago?’ ‘Why don’t you open it and find out.’ Jeff told her as he topped her glass up then his own. Sarah opened it to reveal an expensive leather bound journal. ‘The first page is, well,… compelling reading.’ Jeff nodded reassuringly before taking a copious sip of Champagne. Sarah opened the cover and her eyes widened, closely followed by her jaw dropping. ‘Jeff’s top ten fantasies that he would like to do with Sarah!’ She blurted out on reading the first line at the top of the page. Jeff grinned widely as he watched her slowly read down the list and blush. ‘Phew, hot stuff! Not sure about numbers five seven and nine though. Think that I would have to be feeling very naughty to do those, or very drunk. Or maybe both very drunk and very naughty. There is one thing about your list that baffles me somewhat though?’ Sarah shrugged. ‘Oh really, so what is that then?’ Jeff enquired, rubbing his jaw line. ‘I am curious as to why you have not listed a threesome with me and another woman on your fantasy list?’ Pondered Sarah, eyes narrowing in an attempt to psyche Jeff out. ‘That would be because I know how much you hate the thought of having sex with another woman as much as you hate the thought of me having sex with another man. And besides, the threesome thing may well be most men’s top fantasy, but most men cannot even satisfy one woman, so what the hell kind of chance of fulfillment is he going to have with two women?’ Jeff stated in the manner of a philosopher.Sarah’s face cheeks were almost crimson with a mixture of the alcohol and the arousal that the fantasy list had conjured up in her mind. But it was burning brightest from the secrets that she was currently keeping from him. ‘Since you so put it that way, yes. I can see why you left that one off your list.’ Sarah fanned her face with her hands in the manner of a TV reality star that assumed they were some sort of A-list celebrity diva. ‘So, where is your present for me then? Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten our anniversary?’ ‘It’s hidden upstairs actually, I’ve not had time to wrap it yet.’ Sarah told him as she stood up from the table. ‘Sounds intriguing. Are you going to go and get it for me now then? Jeff enquired with raised eyebrows. ‘Yes, wait there. Top your glass up.’ Sarah told him as she sauntered off to the stairs, her hips swaying in an overtly seductive way. Jeff watched her walk away knowing that Sarah knew he would be staring at her sexy bum. ‘Stop staring at my bum and don’t get any ideas about following me upstairs, you will spoil the surprise.’ Sarah said half over her shoulder. ‘I can’t wait for our week away in that cottage in Cornwall.’ Jeff enthused. ‘So that you can do your naughty fantasy list?’ Sarah asked as she turned to go upstairs. ‘The views are breathtaking down there, but so is your bum when you walk.’ Remarked Jeff. ‘Flattery might get you everywhere. I’ll call you up when your present is wrapped and ready.’ Sarah sexily winked as she ascended the stairs. Jeff had a feeling that she was going to treat him to one of the fantasies off his list. Then doubt set in at the possibility of that unless she was a mind reader or had found the journal that Jeff had stashed in the wine cellar days earlier.

Call Me Miz by Gem Sivad

Hot off the press today is Gem Sivad's fantastic new Twilight novel, don't miss it...





Blurb


Missouri Hess doesn’t like to be called witch, though she can heal with her touch and pull truth from a liar every time. Her gifts are a curse. She can’t choose who she helps and after a healing, she radiates pheromones and burns with sexual energy.
Thomas Hunter is a government agent and a member of Special Forces, emphasis on the word “special”. In human form, Thomas is a mouth-watering hunk of muscle wrapped in dark chocolate. As a golden-furred jaguar he prowls the woods wearing fangs and claws. He’s been sent to Bitter Creek Holler to investigate the local werewolves.
When Miz rescues the big cat from a silver-coated conibear trap, he bites her. Claiming her as his mate, the jaguar leaves his man to work out the details. Now Thomas has to convince the bewitching healer that she needs a familiar by her side.
Excerpt
The sound of the Harley’s motor throbbed in the otherwise still night when Miz rounded the curve toward the store. It was a full moon, so her lights were almost unnecessary. She inhaled the fresh air and… Dammit—no.
When the gift that cursed her kicked in, her opinion didn’t count. She was already slowing, listening to the silent cry of misery calling to her.
She wanted to gnash her teeth and snarl, which was a pathetic attitude for a healer. She didn’t go willingly, but by damn she went. She parked, climbed down the sloping drainage ditch that separated the road from the trees and entered the forest. The light of the moon was blotted out by the hovering branches and she shuddered, switching on her flashlight.
“Oh goddesses of moonlight, healing, crop growing, fish swimming, trees, air, sky, earth and any other frigging thing you want to claim—hear me. If my ass gets eaten by a goddamned bear out here, you’ll be sorry.”
Her stupid threat had Miz hoping the deities up there were asleep. Damn this shit. It better be the fucking president of the United States I’m saving. The flashlight she gripped in her hand now pointed like a divining rod that had just sensed an underground stream.
Oh for God’s sake. Miz looked down at the animal tucked deeply in shadows. Had the light from her flashlight not reflected off a glint of metal, she might have missed the big cat that lay suffering.
His fierce gaze threatened death to her if she came closer. “Well as to that, boyo, it’s not me who needs help.” She talked softly, at the same time walking around the animal caught in a conibear trap. She squatted on her heels and touched the huge back paw. The cat flinched under her touch, flexing its claws, retracting them then spreading them again.
She studied the beast. It was a big male of an indeterminate species. Not something she would have thought to find in West Virginia. On the other hand, what did she know? The fact was, unless she freed the animal soon, the lethal jaws clamping him in a body grip were going to squeeze the life from him. “Nope, can’t let that happen.”
The beast’s chest heaved, fighting for air. She ripped the strings from her boots and squatted next to the trap spring.
“Got your ass caught tonight, didn’t you?” She laid her hand on his hip and talked shit in a soothing voice.
“I just want it understood after I rescue your sorry hide, you’ll leave me alone.” She met his gaze. He seemed intelligent. “You look smart enough. I’m surprised you—” A low rumble interrupted her nervous chatter.
She used her boot strings to tie off the top spring, pulled the string through the bottom spring loop and stood, hauling up on the shoestring until the spring was compressed and both sides met. The cat’s ribs were released from pressure. He grunted and twitched his tail angrily as he tried to stand. But he collapsed weakly to the ground, staring in misery at her.
“Well, mister. Misery’s my specialty. Let me have a look.” She murmured reassurances as she squatted over him, pressing her hands against his chest. Whoa. Gray streaks of death swirled through the cat’s lungs, continuing to block his breathing.
“What the fuck is that? Some sonovabitch poisoned you too?” What she was seeing inside the cat didn’t make a lot of sense. “Doesn’t matter. Whoever did it needs to have his ass kicked from here to Sunday.”
She spread heat through his body, her magic clearing the dark streaks from his lungs and healing the bruised muscles and ribs. Without warning, the cat heaved himself to his feet, staggered for a moment and then sat down facing her. They stared at each other. The flashlight illuminated him clearly. He was magnificently beautiful, his golden pelt dotted with black rosettes. She frowned and said, “You sure ain’t from these parts, sunny.”
He chuffed and stared at her from amber eyes tinged with red.
“Just keep in mind, we had an agreement.” She rather desperately needed to puke. She hated an audience, but it was a cat. He didn’t seem inclined to stop her when she staggered to her feet, stumbled to a pine tree and leaned against it, vomiting for the second time that day.
Beads of sweat made her body shiver and her teeth chattered as if it were a cold night instead of hot and humid. She slid down the trunk and sat with her back against it and her knees up, looking at the animal. “That was some nasty shit you had in you,” she told him. Then she closed her eyes. “Go away.”
He was so quiet she didn’t feel his presence until his breath brushed hot against her cheek. She opened her eyes in time to see his big maw come at her. She’d always heard you saw your life pass by when you faced death, but all she could think was, Oh shit.
He nudged her head to the side, almost gently. She thought he was going to nuzzle her like a house cat. Go figure. He bit her. Dammit. It hurt. She reacted without thinking and punched the cat in the nose with her fist.
He made a chuffing sound then pushed at her as though telling her to get up. “Fine,” she groaned, grabbing the flashlight that still pointed at them from where she’d tossed it.
She wanted to run like hell through the woods, but wobbled along instead. The cat kept to the shadows but she knew he was there. It took her a while to reach her bike. When she did, he stepped from the tree line into the moonlight and she could see he’d recovered quite well. Nice to know he felt fine. She felt like shit.
“Thanks for nothing,” she snarled at him. He snorted, curled his lip at her and disappeared. She returned home without the coffee creamer that had been her reason for the trip. It was just another crazy adventure to add to the insanity in her life.
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Find out more about Gem and her smoking' hot stories by visiting her website.

Flirting with Danger by Elizabeth Lapthorne

Book one in The Agency Series


Skye Adams thought she was meeting her father for an ordinary lunch. Instead she ends up running for her life on a deadly mission with only one man whom she can trust to keep her safe-Jack Berick.


Skye Adams is looking forward to a wonderful lunch with her father – Victor Adams – to celebrate her birthday after he returns from a work trip. Instead of a good meal of Thai food, however, Skye ends up on the run for her life. Black-clad strangers try to kill her, her father’s partner Garth and decimate the restaurant to smoking rubble. Scared out of her mind, Skye turns to the only person she feels she can trust, Jack Berick, a rugged, mysterious man her father once insisted she believe in when all hell were to break loose.


Piecing together a complicated web of lies, half truths and deceit, Skye and Jack must work out not only whom to trust, but figure out what happened to Victor and how to get him back – preferably whole and sound. The further they dig, the more convoluted everything becomes and Skye finally understands the world is not full of black and white, good and evil, but a messy mixture of grey.


In amongst the fear, fire and insanity, more and more Skye realised the searing attraction burning between herself and Jack is the only solid, reliable thing she can depend on. Losing her heart had not been part of the plan, but all too soon the intensity smouldering between them has raged way out of control, and Skye can only see one man dependable enough to remain by her side into the future no matter what might happen. That man is Jack, as they both tempt fate and flirt with danger.




Excerpt

Skye Adams knew first-hand that life was never easy when your dad was the equivalent of James Bond. She'd known this to some level from her very youngest days-though it wasn't until her late twenties that she understood the true nature of his work. Her only knowledge while growing up was that her daddy's work was 'important'.

She couldn't count the number of missed dance recitals, parent-teacher interviews or times someone else had had to drop her off home because she was the last one waiting to be picked up, seemingly forgotten by her father.

Lucy Adams, her mother, had died of cancer before Skye turned twelve. Skye knew her parents loved her very much, but that didn't help the overwhelming loneliness that marred the ten or so years after her mum's passing.

A chill of fear always shivered down her spine when she thought back to how she had almost passed by the one time her father had reached out to her for help. When the phone had rung at a little after two a.m., a bored-sounding operator had asked if she'd take an emergency, reverse charges call from Victor Adams who was at an unpronounceable hospital in Helsinki, Finland.

Skye's first thought as she'd run a hand through her shoulder length, brown curls had been that the call was an elaborate joke being pulled over her by a friend. Laughing, still half asleep, she had assured the operator that, sure, she'd take the call. Skye had expected a howl of laughter followed by some quick commentary and identification of the friend forthwith.

Instead, a very shaky, weak, male had spoken, then stopped to clear his throat. The undeniable tone of her father had come once again over the scratchy connection.

"Skye, can you hear me? Damn this abominable hospital phone to hell," her father had growled.

"Daddy?" she'd gasped, her warm blue eyes widening in the darkness of her bedroom as she shot bolt upright in her bed. She hadn't wanted to believe that the call was from Helsinki and from her father, but his voice was unmistakable.

"I've run into a minor problem, sweetheart," Victor had continued, pain evident in his every word. The very faint slurring had made Skye wonder what kind of painkillers they had given him, or possibly just how very much suffering he must have been enduring for his voice to sound so ragged. She'd never seen him so much as flinch before in her life.

Always her father's voice and manner soothed and calmed her every fear. Victor Adams had always been the strongest, most steadfast man of her acquaintance. Fear had clutched at Skye's heart, as to what could be going on, confusion had clouded her mind.

She'd reminded herself that, whatever happened, her father could handle it. Obviously something extreme had occurred and he'd turned to her for help. She needed to keep a grip on herself.

Skye had followed her dad's clipped, precise instructions to the letter and, in what had felt like both forever and no time at all, she had made it to his hospital room, his travel suitcase packed, assisting him to discharge himself.

Victor had been shot in the leg, beaten and abused. She'd overheard the nurses gossiping that he'd nearly died from the blood loss. The transfusion and her father's foreigner status as well as lurking police suspicion surrounding his true motivations for being in the country had convinced the doctors that the most stringent requirements regarding this man needed to be in place.

They would only release him to a family member.

His protégé and sometime partner, Garth Spenser, had also been present that evening when Skye had arrived. Tall, dark-haired, olive-skinned and with a neatly clipped beard, he sat in the corner of the room on the single chair and glowered at her as she'd tried to make sense of what her eyes told her. Garth had left, muttering something to Victor about 'giving you some space'.

The moment they'd had privacy she'd demanded a full explanation. The dislocated kneecap and evident beating around his face and upper body did not point to the vague 'financial broker' career he'd always talked about.

Her dad had finally told her the truth. He worked for an agency in the espionage industry for the United Kingdom.

Initially Skye hadn't been able to help but feel the story was preposterous, a fabrication for who knew what reasons. She had pressed him, annoyed by his seemingly frivolous attitude. All too soon, random dots she'd never thought twice about had connected, until Skye's eyes were opened to the full picture.

Her father was a spy.



* * * * *



Go grab your copy of Flirting with Danger here, and if you want to find out more about Elizabeth Lapthorne's smokin' hot mysteries then hop over to her website.

Special guest - KD Grace

I am completely thrilled that today my lovely, super-talented friend KD Grace has joined us to share all the gossip on her wonderful new menage novella Surrogates, share some of her photography with us and chat about sex in the open air. Oh, such naughty fun :-)
Take it away KD...
                                                                          Blubells


Doing it Outside
What’s so sexy about the great outdoors? Why is sex alfresco one of our top sexual fantasies? I think about this question a lot because so many of my stories are set with an outdoor theme or at least a good part of the fun takes place outdoors. I’m an outdoor sort of person anyway, but there are lots of other things I do, lots of other parts of my life that I don’t find sexy. Why the outdoors?
No doubt part of the reason is because we’re all brought up in proper Western society where sex takes place quietly behind closed doors, where even public displays of affection are frowned upon. Our animal cousins don’t care where they do it, and they don’t care who sees. I think there’s a big part of our civilised selves that really envies them that freedom. Though we’re supposed to be disgusted when we see a couple of birds or a couple of dogs going at it, let’s be honest, we’re not. Secretly we empathise with them. Secretly our wild selves fantasise about what it might be like to be so brazen. But I think sex alfresco is a fantasy that takes us even deeper into our psyches than just wanting to be like the birds and the puppy-dogs.
                                                              Route to Newlands
I remember the first time I went cross-country skiing. There were six of us altogether and we skied out onto a frozen lake in the middle of an evergreen forest in Central Oregon. It was dead cold out, January as I recall. It was one of those days when the powdery snow squeaked with the cold as our skis moved over it. The day was crystal clear, and the whole world was filled with the bright blue of the sky and the blinding diamond flash of the white, untouched snow.
We finally stopped near the edge of the lake in a bit of an inlet beneath a copse of fir trees and settled on the snow to eat our lunch. We’d barely begun to eat when we were suddenly joined by three grey jays – camp robbers – as my dad used to call them. They boldly lit on the tops of the ski poles we’d jabbed into the snow and waited expectantly until we shared our sandwiches and crisps, which we did, because who could refuse such cheeky feathery cuteness? As I sat there in the middle of a winter wilderness surrounded by white and blue and hearing only the flutter and chirp of the jays and the laughter of my mates at the brashness of the birds, it suddenly struck me that I was no longer watching winter from the safety and warmth of my living room, but I was actually participating in it! For at least a short time I belonged there. I was a part of it, even the birds accepted me. Well at least they tolerated me as long as my sandwich held out.
That’s the long way of saying that when we shut ourselves inside, we shut ourselves off from Sex Central. The outdoors is nature’s sexual playground. Sex is happening everywhere from plants to birds to squirrels to insects to mice to deer and foxes to snails and slugs. You know how it is when you see someone else eating ice cream and suddenly you just have to have some? Well, how could we possibly NOT want sex alfresco when it’s brazenly, urgently, passionately going on all around us? And this time of year, all I have to do is step out the door into my back garden to see some form of nature mounting up for a little rumpy-pumpy. The slugs and snails have been quite prolific this year  J



I set my novella, Surrogates in several gardens on a wealthy estate in south England. And more than a few steamy scenes take place in the garden I know most about, the vegetable garden. However, having fond memories of the gorgeous Renaissance garden, The Villa d’Este, outside Rome and the Lost Gardens of Heligan in Cornwall, I wanted there to be lots of lovely lush outdoor decadence in which my unusual threesome, Francie, Simon, and Dan could romp. Not all of the scenes are al fresco in Surrogates, but a majority of them are, and the wonderful naughtiness of having sex secretly in public while surrounded by nature is magnified by Francie and Simon’s love of gardens and the natural world.
Of course, ultimately the risk we humans have that our animal cousins could care less about is the risk of getting caught in the act, and Dan has way more to worry about than the birds and the bees catching him with his pants down. 


Blurb:
DANIEL ALEXANDER III takes his marriage vows seriously. Until he gets the balls to ask his wife, BEL, for a divorce, watching each other masturbate is all he can offer his beautiful gardener, FRANCIE CARTER. But when Dan’s friend, SIMON PARIS, agrees to be his surrogate, affairs of the heart get complicated. 
Excerpt:
Dan wasn’t listening. ‘Francie, darling, I know how hard it is for you, with us not able to really be with each other. I promise that’ll end soon, and we can be together properly. But in the meantime, it’s not right me having Bel and you having no one. So I’ve come up with a solution for us. Simon will be my surrogate.’
‘What?’ Francie had pushed herself back against the sink as far as she could. Her heart raced in her throat and her face felt like it would burst into flame. ‘You want me to … You want us to …’ She nodded to Simon, then she glared up at him. ‘Is this why you’re here?’
But before Simon could do more than make a couple of fish gasps, Dan ploughed on. ‘Oh don’t you see, darling, it’s so perfect. If I can’t be with you, if I can’t give you what I know you so desperately need, then who better to help us both out that my dearest, most trusted friend, Simon.’
‘He’s a landscaper. He’s hired help just like I am.’ She sounded a lot more hysterical than she meant to. What she wanted to sound was outraged. What she wanted to sound was incensed.
‘No, sweetheart, no. Simon and I are old friends. We went to uni together. We spent a wild summer in Italy together. Darling, I’d trust Simon with my life.’ He shot Simon a meaningful glance, then his gaze came to rest on her. ‘I’d trust him with the person in my life I value most, the one I most want to make happy.’ He caught his breath, and his face softened. ‘Please, darling. This is a gift, something I can do for you. You can pretend he’s me. I can make love to you through Simon, and you, anything you’ve wanted to do to me you can do to him.’

‘Anything?’ She spoke around her racing heart, which felt like it would jump right out of her mouth.
‘Yes, anything, darling. Anything.’                     
‘Good.’ Before she had time to consider what she was doing, she slapped Simon, hard, hard enough that he recoiled. Both men gasped, and her hand stung like fire. But she ignored the pain, squared her shoulders and looked Simon right in his now watering grey eyes. ‘Then you can give him that for me.’
To her total surprise, Simon did exactly as she said. He walked over to Dan and slapped him, slapped him hard enough to knock Dan up against the staging table, slapped him hard enough to draw blood where a tooth cut his lip.
The electric silence that followed was interrupted only by the heavy breathing of all three. The two men glared at each other for a moment, sizing one another up. Trembling all over, Francie grabbed the edge of the sink for support, just as Simon turned his back on Dan and came to stand in front of her. He stood so close his breath ruffled the hair that had come loose from the clasp she wore it up in, so close that the rise and fall of his chest beneath his T-shirt was impossible to ignore, so close the heat rising from his body felt magnetic.
‘Does that about sum it up?’ He asked.
For a second, she thought she might cry. But instead, she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him. She kissed him as hard as she had slapped him, like she wanted to eat him up, like she wanted to crawl up inside his warmth. And he kissed her back. Jesus, how he kissed her back! He kissed and nipped the hollow of her throat around to the sensitive place below her ear, then he whispered in between efforts to breathe. ‘If you want me to stop, tell me now before it’s too late.’
‘Don’t you dare, don’t you dare, don’t you dare,’ she gasped over and over again, guiding his hand to the knot tied below her right breast that held her wrap-around dress closed.

He yanked it hard, then he shoved and pushed until the dress slid from her shoulders and pooled on the floor around her gardening clogs. Somewhere in the periphery of her mind she heard Dan’s fly unzip, a sound she’d grown used to over the past few months, a sound that constantly taunted her with everything she could see yet never touch.

But there were other things to focus on today. Simon kissed his way down her sternum and cupped her breasts, cupped them and kneaded them until her nipples strained against the callouses of his stroking fingers. Then his mouth took over. What her breasts lacked in size, they made up for in sensitivity, and her whole body thrummed as he suckled and bit, nibbled and licked.
Buy Links:
Amazon UK
Amazon US
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Barnes & NobleMischief

Find K D Here:Website: http://kdgrace.co.uk/Facebook Author Page: https://www.facebook.com/KDGraceAuthorTwitter: https://twitter.com/kd_grace

That Filthy Book now available in print.

Natalie and I are celebrating today as That Filthy Book, our first co-author is now available in print as well as an e-book.



Blurb


Out of sight, out of mind. Or so I thought, but it turns out an old, dog-eared book with contents so filthy and so depraved that I’d been forced to hide it after reading, has sank deeper into my erotic subconscious than I’d ever imagined. Luckily though, Jacob is up for exploring the new side of me that has risen to the surface after all these years.


In a whirlwind of wanton adventures that push us to the limits of our sexuality, we begin to re-discover what it once was that had us screaming with pleasure and how to accept that nothing will ever be the same again between us.
Reader Advisory: This book contains bondage, BDSM and an element of dubious consent within a consensually acted out rape scenario.

Excerpt 

It seemed Lady Luck had joined us for our journey, giving the green light for all our needs to be met only three days after my confession of what I really wanted him to do with that branch.
Jacob’s parents had asked if they could take the girls to a circus on Saturday night. It started at eight, didn’t finish until ten, so they’d suggested it was more sensible that they keep them until Sunday morning, possibly Sunday afternoon if the children fancied having a roast dinner with them at the local pub.
I was not about to turn that opportunity down, especially when Jacob had been hot for the idea of outside sex. In fact, he’d been more than up for it, and the excited glint in his eye when I’d held up the carefully stripped bark had sent a tremble to my very core. Something told me I’d hit another very dark and very sinful nerve of his.
But always one to think of others, Jacob had already promised to help a work colleague move house on the Saturday. I didn’t mind too much because it left me with an empty afternoon to prepare for our evening of fun. I started with a pamper accompanied by a glass of wine, treating myself to a cucumber face mask, sugar body scrub, shave—including my pussy—manicure and pedicure and finally a generous slathering of body butter.
It left me feeling tingly and smooth, as if my body was honed and prepared. The thought of my silky, clean skin and perfectly neat red nails out in the open, amongst dirt and leaves, with the sootiness of bark mould smudged randomly over my body had me panting with excitement. I could just imagine mud squelching around my toes and the creamy skin of my wrists worn red by ropes. And the image of my arse marked raw by the branch, well, that had me feeling like a sacrificial offering.
For I knew that this evening I would be handing myself over to nature, to Jacob, and to my own darkest desires. The bare bones of my soul were about to be revealed. No holds barred, no chance to hide. They were the very skeleton of me that only Jacob would ever set eyes on.
When the dipping sun sent lilac and crimson fingers darting over the horizon I was ready—more than ready. I’d had a light tea and another glass of wine, resisted the temptation to masturbate—just—and saved myself for my husband.
The front door opened with a whoosh, then shut with a resounding slam. I spun from the kitchen window where I’d been staring at the darkening copse.
The copse that was ready and waiting.
Heavy footsteps banged down the hall. Loud and resolute, the sound reverberated around my head.
This was it. There was no turning back.
I didn’t want to. Not for anything.
The door swung open, and there he stood, with his broad shoulders filling the frame and his head bowed slightly. He pulled his brows low and set his jaw. A small muscle flexed and unflexed in his cheek.
"Get down on your knees, bitch."
I gasped at the completely thrilling sound of his bad man’s voice and folded my legs until my knees landed on the freshly swept lino. He was so feral, so dominant, not Jacob the protector, the carer. No, tonight I had Jacob the master, the taker, the giver of sinful pleasure.
Between one breath and the next he was in front of me, his groin level with my face and his hands on his hips. The scent of man and hard physical work washed over me, as well as perhaps a hint of a greasy spoon cafe where he’d no doubt been treated to pie and chips for the efforts of his day.
"Take out my cock."
I reached for the buttons on his jeans, surprised to see that my hands trembled. Excitement? Trepidation?
This had not been part of any plan, but I wasn’t complaining. In fact, there wasn’t a plan. All Jacob had asked was that I trust him. He said that he understood what I wanted and would make it all happen for me. Of course, we had a safe word, but I couldn’t imagine I would need it. I trusted Jacob with my life and my pleasure. I always would.
"Hurry up," he said, tangling his fingers in my neatly brushed, softly conditioned hair. "Take it out and suck it."
After I freed his cock, his length sprang into my palm, hot and thick, and the purple veins winding up the shaft bulged with his keen arousal.
In a sharp movement, he jerked forward and the tip slid into my salivating mouth. "Wider, whore," he snarled. "Take me, all of me."
I stretched my jaw and he sank deep, sliding to the back of my throat in one urgent movement. I gagged but he ignored it; pulled back then rode in again, all the time holding my head in a tight, vice-like grip so I had no choice but to take him, tip to base.
I’d sucked on Jacob’s cock a million times, but never had he taken control like this. He was always respectful and deathly still, allowing me to determine depth and pace. But this was different—this was sinful, depraved Jacob fucking my mouth without a thought for my well-being.
I adored it.
Needing support as my body was jostled by his thrusting hips, I gripped his thighs. Saliva ran down my face and neck onto my red blouse, my nose repeatedly buried in his wiry pubic hair. He steamed on and on, hissing and cursing above me. Breathing was difficult, my mouth was so chock-full of hard, demanding cock. When I did catch a breath the air was heated and smelt of him, musky and raw.
"Get fucking ready for it," he snarled, thrusting to such a depth his balls slapped against my chin. "I’m going to come down your throat. I’m going to fill you up, now...argh...fuck...now."
He let out a garrotted cry as his cock swelled further, then, in several sweet pulses, copious amounts of fluid gushed over my tongue. I swallowed rapidly, the action tugging the crown of his cock further down my throat.
"Ah, sweet...fucking...Jesus," he hissed, gripping my hair. "That’s it, keep sucking, swallow me."
I did as he asked. My body quivered, and I could almost come myself just from the feel and taste of him climaxing so hard and forcefully. Had he lain there all those millions of times I’d sucked him off, restraining himself? Had he wanted to throw me down and fuck my mouth in a hard, abandoned way, but resisted?
I didn’t have time to dwell on this because Jacob pulled out, gripped my upper arms and dragged me into a standing position. Gasping, I stared into his flushed face. His mouth was parted as he drew in big lungfuls of air. His eyes sparkled, the pupils wide and dilated, showing me the dark depths of his most basic needs.
"That’s just the beginning," he said in a rasping, breathy voice. "To take the edge off what you’ve had me thinking of for three days." He slanted his mouth down hard over mine, taking possession of my lips and tongue in a furious, ravenous kiss. He pulled away abruptly. "You’re such a tease," he muttered, "tempting me, turning me on. Well, now you’re going to get it. You’re going to get punished for making a man want you so bad it hurts his soul."
Review
Elizabeth from Australia
I *love* this book by Natalie Dae and Lily Harlem. Sure, there's plenty of raunchy, Naughty (with the capitol N!) sex - but far more importantly it's a fun, perfectly paced story about a woman embracing herself and her relationship with her husband. This isn't *just* about the kinky, scorching sex. Jacob and Karen rediscover each other and put the fire and spice back into their very loving marraige. And as always, the writing is fun, fast paced and can make you laugh even while you crave to turn the next page and see what else they will dare to do together. Highly recc'd. - 5 Stars


Stella Ex Libris

"I enjoy That Filthy Book like one savours a deliciously rich ice cream or fondant chocolate cake. Each bite(=chapter) is a frisson of delight, wonderful!"
And if you fancy checking out my Pinterest page dedicated to That Filthy Book click below.
Have a great day
Lily x

Sunday Snog - 2 for 1

Welome to Sunday Snog.
First things first - congratulations to the winner of last weeks competition. Mel, your copy of Stockholm Surrender is winging its way over to you.
Today I couldn't decide what snog to post, so I've opted for two. A sexy moment in the library at Oxford University, starring Penny and Ty from Stockholm Surrender, and then a hot kiss from my work in progress.
SNOG

A bolt of fear shot through me as he whipped out a lethal-looking knife from his back pocket. The handle appeared to be crocodile skin and the sharp blade was curved like a macabre smile. He held it up between our faces. “Oh god, no, please, Ty,” I squeaked through the tight channel of my throat. “I want to help. You said you wouldn’t hurt me.” His intense gaze captured mine. “I won’t hurt you, Penny, if you keep quiet and still. Really still.” Shit. Why hadn’t I screamed a few minutes ago when I’d had the chance? He was crazy. A madman. I should have known. Oh, why had I been having all these delusional fantasies about him coming back for me? I was a fool, a hopeless, romantic, sex-starved fool and now I was going to die for it. A whimper of fear escaped my lips. “Penny,” he whispered. “I won’t hurt you. I just need a lock of your hair.” My eyes were filling. “My...my hair?” “Yes, if I was a real bad guy I would take a finger or a toe to send to your father, but a lock of hair will do.” He clenched his jaw. “Now keep the hell still.” He released my wrists and fisted a chunk of my fringe. “Ty,” I whispered, my feet nailed to the spot. “Shh, don’t move.” His long, lean legs trapped my thighs and his pelvis knocked into my hipbones. The shelves behind me dug into my back and the crown of my head was squashed against book spines. I gulped as the knife slanted and glinted over my forehead. The roots of my hair complained as he tugged his fistful of fringe and sliced, unnervingly near to the roots, with the sinfully sharp blade. “That should do,” he said, showing me a big clump of my pale-blonde hair. “And he’ll definitely know it’s your hair when he sees that.” He nodded at my head. I raised my hand to my hairline. There was at least a two-inch square patch of soft stubble. “Oh crap,” I said with a frown. He poked the lock of hair into a small, clear plastic bag and shoved it in his front jean pocket, then re-sheathed the knife before tucking it away. All the time his body kept pressed into mine, and as much as I was monumentally pissed about having a bald patch, the feel of him, his closeness, the sound of his breathing and the scent of his skin were like a drug to me—all I could feel was lust.Am I crazy?Probably.
“So what now?” I asked.
His gaze harnessed mine and he cupped my cheek with his gloved palms, the wool scratchy against my skin. “Now I send that to your father, just to let him know I can still get to his precious little girl even on the other side of the world. He needs to listen to me. He needs to give James’ case attention, soon.” “How is James?” He frowned. “I stopped over on my way here and after a lot of paperwork and hanging around I saw him. He’s thin, thin and scared, but typical James he’s trying to be positive. Although how he’s managing it I don’t know. The place is hell on earth.” “It must be awful.” Ty narrowed his eyes and nibbled at his full bottom lip. “Yeah, it is. I’ve got to get him out, there’s going to be a retrial but it could go against him, there’s talk of the death sentence.” “Shit, really? God, that’s awful. I want to help.” He tipped his head a little nearer to mine and I traced my fingertips over the rise of his collarbones to the hollow of his throat. “Do you really?” he asked. “Yes, of course. I’ve brought it up with my father several times.” “So bring it up again.” His voice was steely. “I will, I have. Trouble is, he’s so pissed that you kidnapped me back in Oz that he flips into a blind rage whenever the subject is raised.” “Well, he’s going to have to get over that. Maybe when he gets the message that you’re going to be taken again he’ll come to his senses.”“Aren’t you taking me now?” He shook his head.I shifted against him.He didn’t budge.
“So when are you going to let me go?”
He curled his lips into a devilish smile. “In a minute.”
I swallowed and wondered what it was about that smile that sent hot fiery fingers of need speeding to every erogenous zone in my body. “Right after I’ve done this,” he murmured. In a sudden rush, he claimed my mouth in a hot, hungry kiss. I opened up and let him in, releasing a small moan of pleasure as his arms circled my body and pulled me close. Damn, the man could kiss. His mouth communicated desire and strength, passion and danger and I lapped it up like the starving, reckless woman I was. He chased for my tongue and we began a wild, slippery tango. As if we couldn’t get enough of each other. I slotted my fingers into his thick hair and urged him closer. “Ah, fuck, Penny,” he gasped, trailing supercharged kisses over my cheek. “If only...” I tipped my neck as he explored behind my ear with his mouth, making me shiver in bliss. “If only what?” I asked breathlessly, barely controlling the delicious shudders rippling up my spine. “If only circumstances were different.” He was exploring with his hands too, the thin material of the gloves sliding beneath my sweater, over the base of my ribs to my breasts. I trembled as he cupped me through my bra and tweaked my nipple. “Different?” I managed. My brain was struggling to work. He did this to me, Ty, made me forget everything and all sense. “Yeah, if only we’d met like two ordinary people.” His voice was low and husky. “Instead of this crazy situation. We could have been so hot together.” “We are hot together.” “Fuck, I know, but there’s nothing we can do about it.” 
Buy link for Stockholm Surrender


The above picture of the delectable David Beckham is a clue to my wip. With Euro 2012 just around the corner and being a mad football fan myself (soccer to you US girls) I'm already in a frenzy of excitement and decided to write 'football for the girls'.
I can't tell you much about the novel yet other than it has a working title of SCORED and this is a scene from early on in the book featuring sports journalist Nicky Thomas and Lewis Tate, captain of the England team, having an encounter in an elevator!!
SNOG
The doors opened and the chlorinated air from the pool seeped in. But that barely registered in my mind, because standing in red trunks with a white towel slung around his neck was Lewis. His hair was mussed up and his skin dewy and damp. Fuck, the guy just got more gorgeous every time I saw him. It wasn’t a case of getting used to his stunning looks, they just bowled me over anew.“Hello, Nicky,” he said, stepping in next to me.“Hi.” Seriously, how could he act so cool? How could I be expected to act cool when he looked like every dirty dream and carnal fantasy rolled into one?The doors slid shut and I pressed the button for level three. “I presume you’re going to your room and not to the lobby dressed like that?”“Yep.”I glanced up at him. His eyes were narrowed and he was gnawing at the inside of his cheek. His shoulders were raised and tense and he was staring straight at me with a sharp glint in his eye.“Great game, congratulations.”“Thank you.” His words were short and clipped.“What?” I asked, feeling unaccountably off kilter. Was he angry with me? What had I done? I hadn’t told anyone that he’d been in my room for tea. I hadn’t even told anyone we’d ever spoken outside of the press conferences.“You told me…” he said. “That…”“What?” Okay, now I was really nervous. His eyes were thin slits, I could only just make out that perfect shade of deep-ocean blue through his lashes. “What did I tell you?”“That you weren’t seeing anyone.”“I’m not.”He stepped toward me, big and brooding. His sudden indomitable expression more than a little disturbing.I backed up and my shoulders hit the cool mirrored wall.He followed, penning me in. He was all acres of perfect flesh, toned muscles and steely determination. My stomach somersaulted, my heart rate rocketed and I gripped the brass bar that lined the elevator. I’d never felt so physically small in my life.“So who was the guy who thought it was okay to wrap his arm around you after the press conference?”“That was just Phil.” My voice was a little squeaky, but I wasn’t complaining, I was surprised I could even speak. Why the hell would Phil matter to Lewis?“Just Phil?”I nodded. “Yes, just Phil.” I could smell Lewis now, a combination of chlorine, soap and raw maleness. As he spoke his sweet breath breezed warm onto my cheek and sent a sizzle of awareness shooting down my middle, tickling my nipples and creating a buzz in my clitoris. This man did seriously dangerous things to my body, like letting it think it was in charge of my brain.“So he’s not your boyfriend?”“No, definitely not. Phil is a work colleague who gets a bit flirty now and then. But I hardly know him really.”I wasn’t sure if I’d said the right thing because a small muscle flexed and un-flexed in Lewis’ cheek and his nostrils flared.“Really, there’s nothing between us,” I said. “I’m free as a bird, no one to answer to no one to—”“Stop talking, Nicky.” He glanced at the elevator dashboard and then turned his attention back to me.“Why.”“Because I want to test a theory.” He nipped my chin between his thumb and index finger, tilted my head and dropped his face until his lips were just a hair-breath from mine.”“What theory would that be?” I whispered, wondering if my knees would continue to hold me up for more than another few seconds. Damn he was so close. I felt completely consumed by him.“The kiss-and-tell theory.”“Oh, well I—”My words were cut short as his mouth connected with mine. Smooth pliant lips and a softly probing tongue taking possession, owning and controlling.A small whimper mewed up from my throat. Fuck. Lewis Tate was kissing me. And not only that he was one hell of a kisser. Gentle but firm and he tasted delicious; fresh and sexy and perhaps a hint of mint.I opened up and let him in. Searched for his tongue with mine and allowed him to set the pace and depth. Surely I was in the middle of a fantastic dream. How had I got so lucky to have such an incredible man kissing me?He kept a tight hold of my chin as he pulled away. “You’re so sweet,” he murmured, his downcast gaze searching my face. “So please don’t prove my instincts wrong.”“What instincts?” I was struggling to catch my breath, control the tremble in my belly.There was a sudden ping, the elevator jolted to a stop and the doors slid open.Lewis backed up rapidly, gripped the ends of the towel that was still around his neck and squared his stance.A waiter holding an ice-bucket stared in at us.“Good evening,” Lewis said, stepping out and past him.I followed, tightening my bag over my shoulder and avoiding the waiter’s curious stare. Surely he hadn’t seen Lewis pressing me against the wall and kissing me into oblivion. He’d stepped away by the time the doors slid open.Hadn’t he?I couldn’t ask him because our corridor was not deserted. Two maids were re-stocking trolleys and as we walked past them a guy in an England tracksuit bolted out of a room.“Ah, there you are, Tate. I was just coming to look for you. Do you want me to do those Achilles stretches now.”“Yeah, that would be great. I’ve just had that post-match swim you suggested.”“I thought that’s where you were, come on, let’s go in my room and get it done while the tendons are still loose and before it gets any later than it already is.”He re-opened his door and ushered Lewis in.Lewis didn’t give me a backward glance.

I hope you enjoyed that sneak preview - watch this space for more information on SCORED, it will be out very soon!

Have a wonderful weekend.
Lily x

New Release!! Stockholm Surrender.

Today I'm celebrating as Stockholm Surrender hits the virtual shelves at Ellora's Cave. I wrote this book for readers who asked for more after enjoying the sexy exploits of Ty and Penny in Stockholm Seduction. I'm sure it will hit the spot because its a crazy ride of infatuation, desperation and fantasies fulfilled, oh, and did I mention it has a splash of menage too!!!

Blurb


By popular reader request, the full-length story of what happens after Stockholm Seduction.

My soul was in turmoil. Ty Winters had not only kidnapped me in Oz, my heartstoppingly gorgeous surfer had also stoked my darkest desires, bringing all my fantasies to the surface. So Oxford wasn’t going well. Until, that is, he creeped from the shadows—desperate, sexy, dangerous and wanting a piece of me, literally!
He teased me with a taste of his carnal skills, leaving me burning with frustration then forced to stand by as he fought for his beliefs using my lust-addled body as his most powerful weapon.
Oh, my kidnapper knew just how to get what he wanted, giving me just what I needed, while hiding our relationship from the British foreign minister and police. Because sometimes two people are meant to be, even in the most unconventional circumstances and twisted situations. We could fight the world, but we couldn’t fight our passion.
Reader Advisory: This book contains a steamy scene where Ty shares Penny with his best mate—lucky girl!
Excerpt
With my window letting in the sounds of the city, I spread my notes on my bed and tapped away on my netbook. The history of law was everyone’s most hated subject, but I knew the sooner I tackled it the better. Leaving it to the last minute would be crazy.
Eventually though, as darkness claimed the hall grounds and the lampposts flicked on, I decided to call it a day, or rather a night. I saved my work and flopped back on the bed. I would just stretch out for ten minutes before I got up to change and get ready for sleep.
But sleep wouldn’t wait, and before I knew it I felt myself drifting. Falling into a dark, dreamy world. My eyes were heavy, my breathing shallow. I let myself go—float into a world of thoughts and nothingness, white clouds and black sleep.
“Shh!”
There was tightness over my mouth and pressure over the entire length of my body. Whatever it was had squeezed the air from my lungs and was pinning me to the bed. I opened my eyes, panicked.
“Shh!” Ty said, his eyes wide and his nose practically touching mine.
Hastily, I nodded. Oh my god. Was I dreaming or was Ty really here, lying on the bed with me?
He hesitated then lifted his gloved hand from my mouth just a fraction. “You are going to keep quiet, aren’t you?”
“Yes, of course,” I whispered.
This was no dream.
“Good, ’cause I don’t want that copper who’s stalking you to come crashing in.”
“He won’t. I promise.”
Ty lifted up, reached over and shut the window. With a snap, he drew the curtains then pulled off his gloves.
“Is that how you got in?” I asked.
He nodded.
“Really, up the tree, and…” Something was different. I realized what it was. “Why has the lamppost gone off?”
“I tripped it, didn’t want anyone seeing me breaking into the foreign minister’s daughter’s bedroom.” He grinned naughtily.
“And did they?”
“No, I shouldn’t think so, not at three in the morning.”
“Three?” I glanced at my bedside clock. Sure enough, it was three a.m.
He chuckled and lay back down next to me. “I guess you got carried away with your studies. I used to be like that.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, don’t look so shocked, I have a first in sports science.” He touched his finger to the bald patch of my scalp and a rush of heated desire poured through me. “I know all about the human body,” he whispered, “and exactly what it needs to stay healthy and happy and…satisfied.”
Unable to suppress a whimper of pure lust, I slid my hand over his shoulders and tugged him closer. “I wish you would damn well give me some of the satisfaction I need.”
“You’re always so demanding, and so…damn…horny.” He touched his lips to mine, soft and gentle, his tongue peeking into my mouth and past my teeth to tangle and turn and explore. “Oh Jesus, Penny, you drive me crazy,” he murmured. “You do know that, don’t you?”
“Good, because that’s how you make me feel.”
He stroked down the column of my neck, dipping his fingertip into the hollow of my throat and down my sternum. “I want you so bad,” he said, “but there is something we have to do before we can be together.”
“What?” What could he possibly need to do other than put on a damn condom? His erection was growing by the second against my hip. All I needed was for him to get inside me like he had before. Thrust and grind and do that thing to my clit he was so bloody good at. Just the thought of it had me shivering.
“Wait,” he said, reaching behind himself.
Suddenly a tight strip of tape slapped over my mouth. Gone was the luscious kissing of moments ago and in its place foul plastic stickiness.
“Mmmph!” I managed, trying to project massive indignation with my eyes.
“It won’t take long.”
I tried to reach for the tape, intent on pulling it off, but he had both my hands harnessed in just one of his.
“Sit.” He pulled me upright, tugging at my sweater. “We need this off.”
His breaths were rapid and hot on my face as he moved his hands quickly and efficiently, freeing my arms from the sweater before swiftly dragging it over my head.
“Ah fuck, white,” he said, staring at my pretty lace bra. It had delicate scallop details over the rise of my small, pert breasts and a tiny pale-blue flower in the center between the cups. “White is my very favorite.” His voice was almost wistful.
“Mmmph!” I mumbled again. Why did I have this tape on? I said I wouldn’t shout for Roger. Why didn’t he believe me?
“Shh, shh, just for a minute, baby, just for a couple of minutes.” He stood, still holding my wrists tight, and nudged the straight-backed chair out from under my desk with his foot. “Up, come on, sit on here, quickly.” He glanced at the door.
As soon as I was on the chair he was behind me, wrapping what felt like cord around my wrists. I yanked but the binding was tight and attached me to the rungs.
“It’s okay,” he soothed by my ear, his breath warm and tickly. “It’s okay.” He slid his hand over my bare shoulder, tracing the strap of my bra right down to the cup.
I arched my spine, needing his touch so desperately. Ty in my fantasies would have his hands all over me by now. Ty in my fantasies would already be ravishing me until we were both desperately trying to muffle our screams and panting for breath.
But this wasn’t fantasy, this was real. Ty was really here, really tying me up again. And for god’s sake, why was this stuff on my mouth?
He poked his fingers into my bra and tweaked my nipple. I whimpered and fluttered my eyes shut. His caress sent sinful licks of wantonness raging though me.
“Damn it, Ty,” he muttered. “Think of James.” His body heat left me and the next thing I knew he was pulling off my jeans, exposing my tiny white thong. “Ah, fucking hell, what are you trying to do to me?” he groaned, wearing a very real expression of pain.
I couldn’t answer.
He reached back onto the bed for a small, brown leather rucksack. He delved into it and pulled out a newspaper and a camera.
“It’s yesterday’s,” he said. “But your father will still get the message.” He tilted his head and smirked lopsidedly. “The message that I can get to you whenever I want, wherever I want, bodyguard or no bodyguard.” Carefully he laid the newspaper on my lap. It was sort of folded up onto my belly so that the headline was visible. He took a step back and held up a small, silver digital camera. “I would say smile,” he said with a shrug, “but I guess it’s not appropriate.”
Appropriate!
That was the goddamn understatement of the year. Dad was really going to flip at this one. Me in my underwear, gagged, tied to a chair in my room with Roger snoozing outside, just a few feet away. The shit was really going to hit the fan. Big-time.
I heard the camera click once then Ty was back next to me. He folded up the paper and shoved it along with the camera into his bag.
“Mmmph,” I said, shifting on the chair.
“I’m sorry, so sorry,” he said, bending over me and peeling off the tape. It tugged and stung as it pulled my skin. “Baby, I’m sorry, I just needed to do that.” He shoved the tape into his bag too.
“For fuck’s sake,” I hissed. “That stuff is foul and what the hell are you playing at?”
He stooped and pressed a soft kiss to my lips. “Sorry, I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”
I allowed my mouth to become pliant and open, let him in to search and gently tease my tongue with his in slow, languid movements. He tasted divine, like fresh water, a hint of vanilla and turned-on man. As he kissed me reverently, indulgently, my irritation with him dissolved as though it were a spoonful of sugar in hot tea. This was what I’d been waiting for, this moment with Ty. The man I shouldn’t want but did. The man whose tenacity and loyalty I admired even though everyone else thought he was a brutish thug who should be hung, drawn and quartered.
“Ty,” I gasped. “Please, untie me.”
“Mmm, in a minute. I kinda like having you at my mercy.”
“I’ve noticed.”
He smiled, slow and sexy. “It gives me all kinds of dirty ideas.”




I hope Stockholm Surrender has tickled your fancy. If it has here is the buy link 
Of course you don't need to read Stockholm Seduction now as it is has become the prologue to Stockholm Surrender, but if you want to wet your appetite for FREE then click on the cover below.

Thanks so much for stopping by today.
Lily x

Josephine Myles "Handle with Care"

Blurb:


The best things in life aren’t free…they’re freely given.
Ben Lethbridge doesn’t have many vices left. After raising his little sister to adulthood, he wasted no time making up for the youth he lost to responsible parenting. Two years of partying it up—and ignoring his diabetes—has left him tethered to a home dialysis regimen.
He can do his job from his flat, fortunately, but most of his favourite things are forbidden. Except for DVD porn…and fantasizing over Ollie, the gorgeous, purple-haired skateboarder who delivers it.
Their banter is the highlight of Ben’s lonely day, but his illness-ravaged body is the cruel reality that prevents him from believing they’ll do anything more than flirt. Not to mention the age gap. Still, Ben figures there’s no harm in sprucing himself up a bit.
Then one day, a package accidentally splits open, revealing Ben’s dirty little secret…and an unexpected connection that leaves him wondering if he’s been reading Ollie wrong all this time. There’s only one way to find out: risk showing Ollie every last scar. And hope “far from perfect” is good enough for a chance at love.


Warning: Contains superhero porn comics and a cute, accident-prone delivery guy with colour-changing hair. Readers may experience coffee cravings, an unexpected liking for bad mullets, and the urge to wrap Ollie up and take him home.




Excerpt:


“Hey there,” Ollie said when I opened the door, that million-watt grin lighting up his face again. “Like the hair. Got another one of these for you.”
“Thanks.” I tried to kick-start my mouth into saying something interesting, but it refused to cooperate and decided it wanted to dry out instead. I suppose it was slightly less embarrassing than drooling over him. In an effort not to stare, I forced my gaze away and fixed it on the front garden next door. There was only a low, brick wall separating my spartan, gravel driveway with Mrs. Felpersham’s garden, but it was like another world over there. She’d crammed it full of blowsy pink flowers, a wooden wishing well and more garden gnomes than you could shake a stick at. Those gnomes always gave me the heebie-jeebies, but at least there were plenty to keep my eyes occupied at times like this.
“Oh, sweet! I’ve got that exact same T-shirt! ’Course, mine’s a bit smaller.” Ollie started bouncing up and down on his heels, and I wanted to lick him all over, he looked so appealing. At that thought, despite being full of dialysate, I felt my cock starting to stir. It’s a good thing I was in the XXX-Large version of the Wolverine shirt. Still, I leant forward a little just to make sure nothing showed.
My mind got stuck on the idea of how much I wanted to see him in that T-shirt and then out of it. I started to worry that I was going to blurt it out by accident, so I kept my mouth firmly shut. I must have looked like a right stuck-up twat. Didn’t seem to bother Ollie, though.
“I should bring some of those comics round for you to read. It would be good to have someone to chat about them with. Most of my other friends think I’m nuts, you know?”
What? Otherfriends? Did that mean he considered me a friend? We’d only known each other for a few weeks. I realised I needed to speak, and fast, if I wasn’t to make a terrible impression and get struck off that friends list.
“Yeah, uh, great. I mean, I’d like that, if you don’t mind lending your stuff to a stranger.” Great. Now I’d called myself a stranger when he was trying to be friendly.
“Nah, it’s cool. I know where you live, after all.” He gave me another huge grin that made his cheeks dimple. It really wasn’t fair. No one should be allowed to be that cute.


Author Bio:


English through and through, Josephine Myles is addicted to tea and busy cultivating a reputation for eccentricity. She writes gay erotica and romance, but finds the erotica keeps cuddling up to the romance, and the romance keeps corrupting the erotica. Jo blames her rebellious muse but he never listens to her anyway, no matter how much she threatens him with a big stick. She’s beginning to suspect he enjoys it.


Jo’s website: http://josephinemyles.com/
Email: josephine_myles@yahoo.co.uk
Blog: http://josephinemyles.com/blog/
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/josephine.myles
Twitter: @JosephineMyles

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