Harper Bliss's Blog, page 44

Anything She Wants #2: The Corner Chair by Laila Blake

The Corner Chair was the first story I read by Laila Blake, but it certainly wasn’t my last. I’ll happily admit to having developed somewhat of an author crush on Laila and I’m over the moon that A Hotter State will publish her BDSM novella Driftwood Deeds later this year. Laila’s erotica star is rising and rightly so. I was quite blown away by The Corner Chair because I instantly fell in love with the writing. I read it, and then I read it again. Then I jumped up and down for a bit and made my wife read it. The Corner Chair is literary erotica at its finest and I will always be proud to be able to say that Ladylit published Laila’s very first erotica story in Anything She Wants.

P.S. Laila’s equally breathtaking story On an Ocean of Skin appears in Ladylit’s mini-anthology Sweat (Five Sporty Tales of Lesbian Lust).

Here’s a snippet from The Corner Chair:

She is not a cringing, cowardly creature. She does not fear anything, I think, but she adores praise like nothing else, even just a satisfied glance can make her chest swell with pride. Which is, of course, why she was kneeling there for near three hours—her hair matted with sweat, face red and tense, the muscles of her thighs shaking with exhaustion: because she adores being given the opportunity to earn my praise.

I had been watching her silently from across the room for the last ten minutes or so. She was beautiful. I know I sometimes forget to mention that because, to me, it is so utterly clear and obvious that it almost seems trivial and silly to try and put it into words. But let me be clear: my kitten is utterly beautiful—with her huge, shining eyes, the wild red hair and the freckles that spread all over her light, almost pink skin, down her face, her breasts, her shoulders and all the way down, only petering out in the small of her back, over the dimpled cheeks of her ass. She carries just enough weight and gravity to make her soft and plump like a ripe fig, ready to feast upon.

Maybe it was cruel, but I want to try and explain it if you have never been in this situation before. You know that she is perching there, in pain, every second stretching into infinity, waiting, always waiting for a word, a gesture of yours that would end the struggle. She wasn’t tied to the chair at all and—albeit with some struggle to make her stiff and aching muscles move—she could have gotten off the chair at any moment. But she didn’t, because of you. Because of me. Watching her fight to keep her shaking muscles in line, forcing her body to ignore every rational reaction to the stimulus of pain it could come up with, was more than a testament to power. Far more. Power means nothing in the face of all that longing, that desire, the knowledge that every stretching second, she is imagining your face, your cunt, the taste of your tongue.

LAILA BLAKE (lailablake.com) is a linguist, author and translator. She writes character-driven love stories, whether in romance, erotica, YA or mainstream, co-hosts the podcast Lilt and blogs about writing, feminism and society. The first instalment of her Lakeside series, a paranormal romantic fantasy, was published in early 2013, and her next publication, an erotic novella called Driftwood Deeds, will follow in November 2013. She lives in Cologne/Germany with her cat Nookie, adores obscure folk singers and plays the guitar.

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Anything She Wants #1: Cliché by Kay Jaybee

For the first three months after its release Anything She Wants was only available on Amazon (so we could offer it as a free download). Those three months have now passed and to celebrate that Anything She Wants is now for sale at all other major ebook retailers, I’ve decided to share with you why I picked the stories that made it into the anthology.

(I’m also on holiday the next two weeks to visit my family in Belgium and thought this was a good idea to bridge the gap so you don’t forget about me. ;-p)

Let’s kick things off with the opening story, Cliché by Kay Jaybee. First of all, I was stunned when Kay sent me a story. This was my first call for submissions and I didn’t really know what to expect, but I had certainly never expected a multi-published and highly respected author such as Kay to submit to me. After being stunned for a little while, I quickly became thrilled instead when I read her story. It went on the YES pile immediately because it ticked all the right boxes. In order of importance: 1. It was hot. 2. It was well-written. 3. The setting was original. 4. The whole story builds towards an inevitable climax. (I should probably dedicate an entire blog post to these criteria.) (I will!)

Remember the movie Inception? A dream within a dream within a dream? Cliché is a story about a story within a story, which also results in double/simultaneous sex scenes. It’s awesome, sexy and it made me chuckle and I knew that if I wanted to start the anthology with a bang, this was the right story to do it with.

Here’s a snippet:

Lauren breathed the words in my ear, “Tell me a story.”

I couldn’t help but smile at her expression; her brown eyes were wide, clear and eager as they looked into mine. Lying together, naked, face to face, and pleasantly sticky from an afternoon of excessive fucking, our limbs were comfortably entangled in the hotel’s black satin sheets. “What sort of story?”

“Tell me what happened when you went to visit your publisher.”

I swept a stray chestnut hair from her forehead. “The fantasy version, I assume?”

“Oh yes.”

I shuffled closer to her, my red hair sinking deeper into the goose down pillows, my breasts rubbing against her feather soft chest, enjoying the brush of her nipples against my own.

Lauren loves it when I make up stories just for her, and as she has been the inspiration for most of the erotica I have written over the years, it would be churlish of me to object.

“Right then,” I stroked my free hand along the tanned arm that lay above the sheets, “are you lying comfortably? Then I’ll begin.”

My girl chuckled, pressing her curvaceous body harder against mine as I took a moment to think before launching into my tale.

“The secretary sat in the outer office. Despite the air conditioning that murmured constantly in the background, it was warm and stuffy, and she’d already discarded her grey suit jacket to the back of her swivel chair…”

Lauren interrupted me. “Can you make her blonde please?”

“That is so cliché, honey.”

“Clichés are clichés for good reason. That’s what you writers say, isn’t it?” Lauren replied, her twinkling eyes daring me to disagree.

“Well yes, but there are clichés, and then there are downright unbelievably stereotypical plot lines!”

KAY JAYBEE has written The Voyeur (Xcite 2012), Making Him Wait (Sweetmeats, 2012), The Perfect Submissive (Xcite, 2012), Digging Deep (Xcite, 2013), A Sticky Situation (Xcite 2012), Yes Ma’am (Xcite, 2011), and The Collector (Austin & Macauley, 2012).

Details of all her work can be found at kayjaybee.me.uk

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NEW RELEASE: Sweat (Five Sporty Tales of Lesbian Lust)

Yep, I’m ‘only’ 35 but one of my life-long dreams has just come true. I’ve put together a lesbian erotica anthology with a sports theme. And not just any mini-anthology, but one featuring stories by these incredibly talented queens of erotica: Cheyenne Blue (still pinching myself), Lucy Felthouse (talk about a powerhouse), Laila Blake (oh, the sheer genius of this woman) and Erzabet Bishop (she’s so quirky and original it hurts!)

It was with my fingers hovering shakily over my keyboard that I asked these ladies to contribute and to my huge surprise, they all said yes. And the stories they sent me couldn’t have thrilled me more. (Frankly, the only disappointing thing about Sweat is that is not a picture of me on the cover.)

Cheyenne’s story Marathon Woman is so romantic, I end up with a silly grin on my face every time I read it. Lucy’s swimming/diving story Making an Impression is a summer holiday fantasy every single one of us must have indulged in while lounging by a pool, only she makes it come true. Laila’s On an Ocean of Skin teaches us about the treacherous, erotic effects of yoga and Erzabet’s tale of Derby Girls introduces us to a little bit more than just the ins and outs of roller derby. My own contribution Match Point takes place on a tennis court, well, at least the foreplay does.

So, I’m very proud to have my name on that cover, amongst those wonderful authors, and… this is only the first in a series of mini-anthologies we’ve decided to do. Look out for the next one around Christmas, it may feature some lesbian loving under the christmas tree…

Here’s the blurb for Sweat (Five Sporty Tales of Lesbian Lust):

Some girls simply swim or run, while others practice yoga or roller derby, but no matter their preference in sports, all the ladies in this mini-anthology get plenty of girl-on-girl action. Sweat contains five sporty lesbian erotica stories that will make you perspire with desire.

Caution: This title contains graphic language and sweaty lesbian sex and is suitable for adults only.

Table of contents:

Marathon Woman by Cheyenne Blue

Making an Impression by Lucy Felthouse

On an Ocean of Skin by Laila Blake

Derby Girls by Erzabet Bishop

Match Point by Harper Bliss

And you can get it from these retailers:

Amazon US

Amazon UK

Amazon DE

Amazon CA

Smashwords

Rainbow eBooks

All Romance

Direct from author

buy

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Hump Day Hook: Match Point

This week’s Hump Day Hook is from my short story Match Point, which appears in Sweat. Sweat’s subtitle is Five Sporty Tales of Lesbian Lust, and basically, it’s my dream come true. If you’ve read any of my books, you know that nothing turns me on more than a sweaty woman in a tank top. It’s my thing. I can’t help it, but women with toned arms dressed in nothing but a tight tank top keep on popping up whenever I’m writing. So, I thought I’d ask four of my favourite authors to indulge me with a sporty tale and Sweat is the result. The official release date is on Friday, but I have ARCs available in return for an honest Amazon review. (Just e-mail me.)

Match Point is about quickly coming to grasp with the fact that you’re a lesbian on the tennis court.

Before I even hit the ball, I know it will land in the net again. I’ve lost my mojo and, glancing at the other side of the court, it’s not hard to see why. I used to be the star player of our club, almost effortlessly winning every championship—until Ruby came along. On paper, we’re a match. But when we face off on the court, she always wins.

Thank god this is not the final, I think as I prepare for my next serve. In my mind’s eye, I can already see the ball whizz limply over the net—no spin, no glory. Ruby will cross it with that mean forehand of hers and I won’t even feel disappointment. Only awe. And the incessant thumping between my legs.

Ruby joined our club six months ago, amidst a scurry of whispered gossip in the dressing room before games and—alcohol-fuelled and more daring—at the bar afterwards.

“She’s renovating the old Slater house all by herself,” my friend Sarah, who’s always the first to know, told me after we watched Ruby park her black BMW Z4 at the club’s parking lot one day. “She moved here from the city after a bad break-up… with another woman.”

I’ll never forget how my heart seemed to jump all the way to the back of my throat. When Ruby first arrived I was still very much in denial. Now, six months later, it has never been more clear. It crystallised in my mind, in my heart and in my blood after our first match against each other. I lost that one too, and no one could explain why I missed all those easy balls except me—and maybe Ruby. She held my gaze a bit too long before each serve—the way the pros do it to intimidate their opponent, her light blue eyes sparkling with something so confusing, yet enthralling. My gaze was still fixed on hers when the first ball zipped past my head. I didn’t even lift my racket.

I gather my thoughts and tear my eyes away from Ruby’s tan skin. I need to win at least a few points to avoid too many questions. Ruby usually gives me a few. She’s kind like that. And good with her hands. And she’s a lesbian.

Want more Hump Day goodness? Head over to the official site >>

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Coming Together: Girl on Girl

Shame on me for not blogging about this earlier. I mean, this anthology features fifteen F/F stories penned by some of erotica’s hottest names. On top of that, all profits benefit the National Center for Lesbian Rights AND it’s only $2.99. I’ve bought books for a whole lot less reasons than that!

What I’m trying to say is, that by purchasing this anthology, you’ll be fully complying with Coming Together‘s brilliant tag line: Doing Good While Being Bad! If you can work on your karma while (as I like to say in my stories) attending to the throbbing between your legs, why wouldn’t you?

My story New Girl features in this anthology, edited by Leigh Ellwood, and I’m honoured to be in such great company.

Here’s the official blurb:

Coming Together: Girl on Girl is a collection of lesbian erotica and erotic romance edited by award-winning author Leigh Ellwood. All proceeds from the sales of this anthology, and any individual titles released in eBook or audiobook, will benefit the National Center for Lesbian Rights.

CONTENTS: The Princess’ Princess (Salome Wilde); Sundae, Bloody Sunday (Lisabet Sarai); Angel (Ms. Peach); Hot Air (Slave Nano); A Taste of Vanilla (Leigh Ellwood); The Trade In (Stephani Maari Booker); New Girl (Harper Bliss); Same But Different (Kate Atwood); Fair As the Moon (Laurel Waterford); On Display (Sophie Mouette); Tough Enough to Wear a Dress (Teresa Noelle Roberts); Snow Blind (Jean Roberta); All Keyed Up (Scarlet Chastain); Ghost Lights (Erzabet Bishop); Winner Take (Andrea Dale); Worth the Wait (Beth Wylde)

And you can buy it here (aka Doing Good While Being Bad):

Amazon US

Amazon UK

Amazon DE

Amazon CA

Barnes & Noble

Smashwords

All Romance eBooks

Enjoy working on your karma!

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Latest releases: A Hard Day's Work and Coming Together: Girl on Girl

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Checking in

Well, that picture about says it all. Because I missed this week’s  Hump Day Hook (sorry!), I thought I’d give you an update on the latest (aka I’m procrastinating.)

At the end of next week, Ladylit will publish Sweat. A lesbian erotica mini-anthology featuring five sporty stories, including one of mine called Match Point. It’s about realising you’re a lesbian on the tennis court. More on this later, but, just so you can start salivating already, the other four stories are by Cheyenne Blue, Lucy Felthouse, Laila Blake and Erzabet Bishop!

The GoodReads F/F/ Romance group will be reading High Rise (The Complete Collection) as their book of the month in September, one novella each week. Remember, Fool for Love is free forever and do join the group because they share loads of great F/F reads!

I just finished the first draft of a new novelette, tentatively titled I Still Remember, because it’s inspired by the Bloc Party song. This new title should hit virtual book shelves early October.

Because Anything She Wants (the fact that it simply exists still fills me with sheer joy every day) will be available from all sales channels (as opposed to just Amazon) as of late next week, I’m going to blog about every single story in the anthology. This multi-day blog happening will coincide with a two week visit to the motherland. Mid-September, I’m going home to spend some time with my fifteen-month-old nephew, so I may be missing in action for those two weeks, but I won’t leave you hanging…

Is The Bridge anyone else’s new favourite TV show? (Just needed to get that out of my system.)

Did you know that Beatrice Donahue’s beautiful debut novelette The Blue Hour is now available from Kobo, Smashwords and a host of other retailers? Do try it, it goes perfectly with the end of summer.

We’re working very hard behind the scenes of A Hotter State. Next week will see the release of our first M/M story. I know, I can hardly believe it either.

That’s it. Peace out.

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Hump Day Hook: A Hard Day’s Work

This week is all about A Hard Day’s Work, which means this week’s Hump Day Hook will again be from my brand new novelette. Sorry for the repeat, but there are plenty of hooks to choose from.

Every day, at five on the dot, Ann and Kenneth rise from their desk and finish their work day. They have spouses to consider and children who need to be fed before bed. I usually linger on in the office the three of us share, enjoying the solitude and silence their absence brings. It also allows me the opportunity, every time I hear Amanda’s footsteps clatter on the hallway floor outside, to imagine she’ll walk in and say, “At last, they’ve gone,” before hurling herself at me.

But Amanda is straight and she’s my boss. I can pretend to play tennis all I want, she’ll never be interested in me that way. It doesn’t stop me from dreaming.

“You’re on your own, Jo,” Kenneth says and closes the door of our office behind him.

“Leave it open,” I yell behind him—just like every night—but he lets it bang shut with the most annoying thud possible.

I push myself out of my chair but my toes catch behind the foot of my desk. My hip crashes into it, sending a half-empty coffee cup to the floor, its tepid contents spilling over my sweater.

“Fuck,” I scream at no one but myself. I quickly grab a tissue from the box on Ann’s desk and try to stop the stain from soaking all the way into the delicate fabric of my sweater. It doesn’t help so I dash out of the office to the break room, which is closer than the wash room. I hoist my sweater over my head before yanking a tea towel off its hook and dousing it in water.

Engrossed in removing the stain from my sweater, I don’t hear the footsteps approach from behind.

“Is it casual Friday already?” Amanda’s voice beams.

Thank god I’m wearing a tank top, I think as I turn around. To my surprise, Amanda’s eyes appear glued to my arms. Countless upper cuts and hooks a week haven’t missed their effect.

“I didn’t finish my lunch,” she mumbles, completely out of character.

While she hides behind the refrigerator door, I stifle a chuckle. Instead of cursing Kenneth and his stupid game of slamming the door shut every night, I secretly thank him for landing me in this situation.

When Amanda re-emerges she has put herself together again. “You must have quite a serve with biceps like that.”

This time, I’m the one nearly blushing. “I get by.”

“What happened?” She nods in the direction of my sweater.

“Office clumsiness.” Flustered, I hold my palms up, dropping the tea towel to the floor. It really isn’t my day.

She scoots closer and crouches down to pick it up. As she hands it back to me, the tips of our fingers lightly touch. She redirects her attention to my sweater.

“You may want to use some vinegar on that when you get home.” I hadn’t pegged her for someone with detailed knowledge on removing stains. “Doug is terribly clumsy. It seems all I do is run after him and clean up his mess.”

The mention of her husband’s name zaps me back into reality. I doubt Amanda is the sort of woman who does a lot of running around for her husband—the mysterious Doug whose name gets dropped occasionally, but who never shows up for office parties or other work-related social events. I want to quiz her about him, but the circumstances don’t strike me as ideal. It’s also none of my business.

“Thanks for the tip.” I smile and glance at my sweater, which I fear might now be ruined.

“Here’s another one,” she says as she heads for the door. “You should wear short sleeves more often.”

I have to keep my jaw from dropping. If I didn’t know any better, I’d swear she was flirting.

Want more Hump Day goodness? Head over to the official site >>

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NEW RELEASE: A Hard Day’s Work

Aah, it’s been too long since I was able to type ‘New Release’ into the title field. But here we are, my brand new novelette A Hard Day’s Work is out today!

Since finishing the High Rise series I’ve written quite a few quick short stories, but I desperately wanted to get back to the feel of writing longer, standalone pieces like Summer Heat and Younger Than Yesterday. Novelettes are ideal because they’re short enough to keep the tension humming softly before it all explodes and long enough to tell a story.

The story in A Hard Day’s Work is all about Jo and her abs and biceps and the unexpected effect they seem to have on her hot boss Amanda. Admittedly, much of the plot line in this novelette hinges on biceps (is it any wonder I’m currently working on a mini-anthology with a sports theme?), but hey, if it has to hinge on something, it may as well be well-toned, slightly bulging, impressing lady biceps. (It also features a lusty run in the park, sweaty gym clothes and a soapy shower scene.)

Without further ado, here’s the official blurb:

Jo fancies her straight, married boss Amanda. She’s convinced her crush is a hopeless one, until a performance review changes everything.

And here are the download links:

Amazon US

Amazon UK

Amazon DE

Amazon CA

Smashwords

Kobo

Rainbow eBooks

All Romance

Direct from author

Enjoy!

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Latest releases: A Hard Day's Work and Coming Together: Girl on Girl

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Hump Day Hook: A Hard Day’s Work

At last, a new release! A Hard Day’s Work will be available from all retailers next week. Meanwhile, here’s a little excerpt for this week’s Hump Day Hook to (hopefully) get you all hot and bothered. Also, if you’d like an ARC in return for an honest review on Amazon, send me an e-mail and we’ll arrange it.

It’s Friday so I’m dressed casually in a pair of dark, tight jeans and a sleeveless blouse. I make sure the blouse is neatly tucked into my trousers before knocking on Amanda’s door.

“Come in.” The different versions of this scenario that have played in my head are countless, but they always ended up with both of us half-naked on the floor. “Close the door behind you and take a seat.”

I’ve never had any reason to believe Amanda hates the other women on her team. Most of the rivalry between her and Ann takes place solely in Ann’s head, just as Kenneth’s firm belief that Amanda has a soft spot for him is merely a figment of his imagination.

I sit down in the chair opposite Amanda’s desk. She glances at a sheet of paper in her hands. I stop myself from tapping my fingers on the arm rest of the chair, but I can’t consciously slow down the mad pitter-patter of my heart.

Amanda wears a tight black blouse today—one of my favourites on her. It’s open at the throat and it’s hard to keep my eyes off the exquisite hollow of her neck.

“I only have one question for you.” Amanda leans back in her plush leather chair. It’s as if I can feel her glance move over the skin of my arms. She shoots me a quick smile before continuing. Moments alone with Amanda are so rare—I can count the times I’ve been alone with her in her office behind a closed door on the fingers of one hand—and the situation makes my stomach knot. I shuffle in my seat, expecting a query on why I handled a case a certain way or how I feel I fit into the team. “Why are you single?”

Want more Hump Day goodness? Head over to the official site >>

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Latest releases: Anything She Wants and Girls Only (Volume Two)

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August Alfresco: Summer Heat

Anyone else feeling the summer heat? We’re having one hot weather warning after the other here in Hong Kong, with the occasional monsoon alert thrown in, it all makes for one moist summer.

Today I’m treating you to an alfresco excerpt from my novelette Summer Heat. It’s the one in which Cat travels to Tuscany with her parents to recover from a bad break-up, only to find herself falling head-over-heels for a long-time family friend. As one would expect, things get raunchy… which makes this the perfect excerpt for August Alfresco!

Comment on this post to be in to win one of these fabulous prizes:

- a Kindle and £50 worth of Total-E-Bound ebooks

- £50 worth of Xcite ebooks

And be sure to check out all the August Alfresco posts at smutalfresco.co.uk and comment on each one to have more chances to win.

All terms and conditions are available at smutalfresco.co.uk and the winners will be announced on the 1st September at the website.

“Rough night, darling?” My mum pours me a cup of coffee and spoons in the exact amount of sugar I want without having to ask.

“My fault entirely, Helen.” Rose wears her poker face well. “I’m afraid I dragged young Cat to Fabio’s.”

“Ah,” dad chimes in. “No good can come of that.” If only he knew.

“Can we borrow your car this morning? We had to take a taxi back.” Rose seems to eat her eggs differently this morning, with much more lip and finger licking than I can bear.

“Very sensible.” Dad sports a neon yellow polo shirt today, making him look like an artificially enhanced lemon. “Of course. Helen and I were thinking of taking the bicycles out this afternoon.” My ears perk up at the prospect of my parents leaving the house. “Would you care to join us?”

Rose rubs her temples vigourously. “I do apologise for being a bad host. I think I’ll need an extended lie-down today.” No doubt, she means with me between her legs.

“Me too,” I concur. “That stuff he poured us was really vile.” I feel a tad sorry for them. They already spent the better part of yesterday alone and now we’re sending them off on their own again. We’ll need to find a balance for the rest of the week, but today the hunger for each other is too demanding. “I’ll prepare us a nice supper when you get back.” Already I feel as if I need to make amends.

After breakfast, Rose and I can’t make it to the car fast enough. I drive and she immediately puts her hand on my thigh, her fingertips zapping electricity through my flesh.

“Just so we’re clear.” A myriad of emotions crashes through my brain and I try to direct all my attention to driving. “They can never know about this.” Rose’s fingers dig into me, her nails scraping my skin. “They’ve accepted I’m a lesbian, but they would never understand this.”

“No one understands.” Her hand snakes under my shorts and I need to gasp for air. “Least of all me.” She retracts her fingers and places them chastely on my knee. “Let’s make a detour. Turn left there.”

She co-pilots me to the secluded spot where she made her first move yesterday. I salivate at the sight of it.

“I don’t think we have a blanket in this car.” I rush to the boot but all I find is a spare tire.

“We don’t need it.” She takes my hand. “Come on.”

The light falls differently on the grass before noon. The sweet scent of our surroundings and the vibrant green of it all unleashes a fresh wave of nostalgia from my soul. Or maybe it’s happiness.

She shoves me against one of the thick trees and peers into my eyes. “Let’s make a deal.”

I nod eagerly, impatient for what’s to come.

“Let’s not consider any consequences of our actions this week. Let’s just do what we want. We’ll worry about the rest later.” I admire Rose’s carefree spirit and I want nothing more than to go along with it, but again, it’s more complicated than that.

“We can try.” I curl my hands around her neck. “Are you going to kiss me today, or what?”

“I’ll do much more than that.”

I’ve always had a thing about kissing out in the fields. It makes it more visceral, more primitive, and so much more exciting. A light breeze whips up Rose’s hair, making her curls dance in the wind. I inhale the mossy scent of the valley and Rose’s fruity perfume. Even before her lips touch mine, I know I’m already soaking wet.

It’s a flashback to puberty when the only place I could make out with girls safely was hidden in a corner or stowed behind a tree. To revisit that sensation as an adult, to actively have to conceal this summer fling, is a potent aphrodisiac.

Rose trails her lips from my mouth to my neck and all I see when I open my eyes is a picture perfect landscape of blue and green irregularly bordered by her hair.

“Have you ever been naked against a tree?” she pants into my ear. “Because you’re about to be.” She hoists my top up and wastes no time yanking down the cups of my bra. My nipples firm in the midday breeze, pointing upwards to the climbing sun. Her lips nibble on my breasts before she drops to her knees and her tongue swirls around my belly button. I’m wearing shorts with an elastic waistband so all she has to does is give them a tug and they come off. I feel the hotness of her mouth through my panties, which must be drenched by now. One kiss is enough to set my blood on fire. She slides her hands under the fabric at the back and cups my buttocks. Her touch is electrifying and I’m glad I have the tree to balance myself against. She presses her mouth into me and finds my clit.

“I’ve been waiting for this,” she says. Suddenly, my undies are off and Rose’s hands fumble with them around my ankles. I spread my legs, the outside air tingling my swollen cunt. She licks me all the way up and down, her tongue wet and hot against me. My mouth stretches into a smile as the world around me tilts.

Rose’s nails dig into the back of my thighs as she buries her face deeper into me. She drives her tongue inside and the sensation, the pure emotion of standing in this field with an inescapable massive orgasm on the way, makes me tear up. I don’t care about Jenny anymore and, when push comes to shove, I couldn’t care less what my parents or anyone else may think. All that matters is this moment of joy I’m sharing with Rose.

She laps feverishly at my juices. My clit is rock hard as her tongue flicks over it, over the hub where all the nerve-endings in my body seem to collide.

I sink my hands into her hair, that golden-brown chestnut mane that flickers in the sunlight. Her curls swing from left to right as she licks me and I hold on to them.

“Oh yes.” I push her head into my pussy and her tongue writhes and nudges and I’m about to explode. Sparks course through my blood. I close my eyes and give in to the sensation, wave after wave of pleasure drowning me. I let go of her head as the final ripple shudders through me before sinking to the ground.

Rose drags the back of her hand over her mouth and smacks her lips together. “Amazing,” is all she says.

“Never too old to learn,” I say when I catch my breath. “Not bad for a first-timer.” I shoot her a tender grin. I would probably have come even if she’d only just looked at my clit.

“Giving a woman pleasure is so much more—” She hesitates for an instant, searching for the right word. “Overwhelming.”

“Speaking of pleasure.” I glance at the nearest tree. “I believe I owe you some.”

Rose has shifted backwards and green patches stain her pants where her knees bend. “You don’t owe me anything.” Her smile is warm and floors me again, so much so, in fact, that I’m already beginning to wonder what I will do when I leave and no longer have access to it. “But since you’re offering.” She checks her watch. “Not here though.” She stretches out her hands and we pull each other up. “However, I do believe we have a house at our disposal this afternoon.” She curls her arm around my shoulder and we walk back to the car like lovers holidaying in a sunny paradise.

I do hope you enjoyed that. All info on Summer Heat here >>

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