• Home
  • Archive by category 'Guest Blogger'
  • Page 36

Archive for ‘Guest Blogger’

Kacey Hammell’s 5 Biggest Fears…

Click to view the rest of the tour posts

Click to view the rest of the tour posts

Thanks for having me today, KD, on day 7 of the Guarding Midnight Tour.

  1. Anyone who knows me, knows my #1 fear is Snakes. Bone-chilling and paralyzing fear takes over me whenever I see one on a computer, TV or in the grass. There was even one time when my son received a rubber snake for his birthday, I knew it was in the house somewhere, and had my husband hunt it down and throw it outside. Seriously, it’s terrifying to know when one is around.
  1. Heights – though I can board an airplane, I will never look outside the windows – I usually hold the phone at the window when taking pictures, hoping they will turn out okay but never once looking at the phone until I’m on the ground. No one will ever find me bungee jumping off anything or parachuting out of a perfectly good airplane (unless there’s danger).
  1. Death – I don’t want to leave my children. I know the pain of losing a parent, and I (unrealistically) don’t want them to ever face that loss. It’s hard to push through it, and come out happy on the other side of it. Grief is no joke. The darkness can grab hold and suck us in. I don’t like the thought of my children ever facing that. But such is the circle of life.
  1. Dark places – I’m claustrophobic so it’s terrifying to be locked anywhere in the darkness or a small room. Even an airplane can be difficult for me but small spaces is difficult times a thousand.
  1. Failure – everyone fears it. I fear a lot since I’m a writer. Fear of a book tanking, readers hating it. I fear the inability to not succeed in everything I do, not just writing, but failing my children, family, husband. That fear is always in the back of my mind, even on good days.

*****

Reviews:

“This is a book that will consume you. From that sensual first kiss through terrifying suspense filled moments, Hammell’s writing will pull you in.” ~ 5 Stars from S.J. Maylee, author of the Love Projects Series

“…doesn’t disappoint…characters, plot and storyline was amazing, overall this was an easy contemporary romance that will have some enjoying on how the story unfolds.” ~ 5 Stars from Beckey, In the Pages of a Good Book

“… an amazing book…background story was amazing and the main character and background characters, I fell in love with them right away. I couldn’t put this book down.” ~ 5 Stars from Stephanie, Goodreads

“…very well written with amazing plot and storyline.” 5 Stars from Chantale, Canadian Book Addict

*****

Guarding MidnightBlurb:

Canadian Muscle …

When Desires Need Protecting.

No one knows sacrifice better than former Army Sergeant Gavin Bennett. He’s witnessed firsthand the emotional, physical and mental toll of being caught in the crossfire. Being a bouncer-slash-bodyguard may not be Gavin’s dream job, but he’s willing to do just about anything to help out family. When Gavin reports for his first day of work, he quickly discovers a woman who threatens to crack his legendary cool.

Shree Walker is on the run from a dark past she tried to shut away. Battered and broken, a happily ever after doesn’t exist for her. Ready to start fresh with a new life in a new city, she is happy dancing at the Vixen Club. She’d be even happier without the presence of the prickly new bouncer who won’t let anyone or anything get past his carefully guarded defenses. He’s a distraction she doesn’t need. And a temptation she can’t resist.

When Shree is kidnapped by the criminal mastermind hell-bent on taking the club at any cost, Gavin has to make a decision. Hold tight and continue to keep Shree at arm’s length. Or break down his walls and take a chance on something more powerful than them both: Love.

 

Guarding Midnight Book Page

Evernight Publishing

Amazon – US / Canada / UK

aRe
Bookstrand
Kacey’s Kobo Page

*****

Book Trailer Credits to: Beckey at In the Pages of a Good Book

*****

Avid Reader. Romance Author. Redhead…

Canadian-born author Kacey Hammell is definitely a book-a-holic. A romance reader from a young age, she fell in love with happily ever afters.  These days, as a multi-published erotic romance author, she enjoys adding a lot of heat, sass, and emotion to the many genres she writes.

A mom of three, Kacey has made certain each of her children know the value of the written word and the adventures they could escape on by becoming book-a-holics in their own right. She lives her own happily ever after with her perfect hero in Ontario, Canada, and is a true romantic at heart.

Connect with Kacey…

Website / Newsletter / Facebook / Twitter / Amazon / Goodreads / Pinterest / Instagram / Authorgraph

 

 

Writing Katie in Love by Chloe Thurlow

tourbutton_katieinloveWhen I gave up my job describing interiors for a magazine, my Mother told me not to ‘burn my bridges,’ and I started to wonder if that is sound advice. Once burnt, there is no way back. You have crossed the Rubicon, the Styx, the Thames, for that matter. I had moved from West London to East London where the rents are cheaper and the cost is broken streets, a fall on the ice and a broken finger.

At that time, a friend of mine who paints abstracts lost all of her work in a fire. For months she walked around in a funk. Then she rented a new studio. She started again and her paintings were fresher, freer, more layered, more interesting.

It made me think. I have files of unfinished short stories, notebooks of ideas, character descriptions. I kept going back to them as if in the past we might find the future.

But I had a deeper instinct that, only when I found the courage to burn all these scribbled notes would the universe reach down and lift me like a fiery phoenix from the ashes. You get trapped into repeating yourself, you plagiarize yourself, you become all those things you condemn in others. Sometimes, I would pass a shop window and glimpse my mother in the reflection.

There was a book I wanted to write and I needed to steal time to write it. I had some savings, the chance to house sit, and a plan of action came to me one day in the park when a paragraph like a speck of space dust fell from the sky into my head. I raced home and wrote it down. I didn’t burn all my jottings, that would have been romantic, and in my flat I don’t have an open fireplace.

What I did was place all the notes and notebooks in black plastic bags and carried them down the stairs – the Romanian girl in  the flat below was singing, I could hear her voice faintly through the half-open door – and put the bags in the blue Paper and Cardboard recycle bin.

I felt lighter walking back upstairs, not just lighter from not carrying the bags, but lighter in my step, in my head. Katie from that first paragraph was now at my side and she would remain there night and day like a doppelganger, like changing images in a house of mirrors: me, but not me.

My previous books had been about girls coming of age, finding themselves and their sexuality. Katie was not a young girl. She was 28, my age, as it happens, and she had a lot of confusion about a lot of things: love, romance, passion erotica. But also art, contemporary life, nude-selfies, sexting, porn, internet dating, pulp and pop culture, tabloid TV – men, those shapeshifters and mysteries so hard to live with and impossible to live without.

These are the ingredients for what was given the working title: Strangers, then Stranger in the House of Mirrors, then House of Mirrors, then…well, lots of things, and became as if it were meant to be: Katie in Love.

A book is a journey; your characters your companions. You create them and they, in some ways, create you. Katie Boyd is a perfectionist, moody, she likes dancing, she is unsure what she should do in her life and, when she feels as if she is falling in love with Tom Bridge, the feeling is unexpected, shocking and terrifying.

Katie in Love was 13 months in the making, all writing is re-writing, every word is a chip in a mosaic, even that space gift first paragraph was edited, but the book became the book I wanted to write and I feel free now to start another book.

 

Katie in LoveBlurb

Katie Boyd has nothing in common with Tom Bridge, the volunteer doctor she meets at a party – except in bed she finds a passion to match her own. Tom is intense, puzzling, a man who cares about others and compels Katie to question her own life drifting through the hip clubs and London party scene.

When Tom returns to his post in a Sri Lanka orphanage, Katie isn’t sure if their passion was lit by its brevity, or if love, unexpected and not entirely wanted, has edged its way into her life. Should she go back to being who she always was? Or follow Tom into the unknown?

Katie in Love is a compelling erotic-romance that will grip readers as they follow Katie’s journey to an ending they may have expected – but not in the way they expected it.

Brilliantly written and coolly self-aware, Chloe Thurlow was described by KM Dylan on Amazon as “…the Anaïs Nin of our times.” With Katie in Love  – her sixth novel – Thurlow reveals a writer at the height of her powers.

Excerpt from Katie in Love — furnace hot 5*****

Katie has met a stranger at a New Years Eve dance and she takes him back to her East London flat –

My heart was a little boat that had broken its moorings. My breath was trapped in my throat. I rolled to one side and slid across his body. I took his cock back into my mouth, completing the circle, his tongue pushing back into my vagina, my tongue wrapped about his shaft. We rocked to and fro like sunflowers in a field, deeper and deeper, while the tree branch tapped like a metronome against the windowpane and we found perfect harmony.

My pussy continued to leak nectar into his mouth. Our bodies were slippery with perspiration. I could have remained in that position for the rest of my life, but the tempo changed, his body tensed and my throat filled with warm sperm that tasted like coconut milk. I gobbled it down, greedy for more. He kept pushing into me, I kept drawing at his cock and, as the last drips drained into my mouth, I grew rigid. I released his cock and gasped as his meaty tongue ignited an orgasm that made me scream. I cried out as if in pain but the pain was an intense, all-consuming pleasure.

My body was trembling as if in fever. I rolled to one side, arms wrapped around his legs, our bodies drenched, throbbing, electric. I was dizzy. He pulled me up and pushed his cock inside me as if it were a jewel being placed back in a velvet box. We rocked gently like waves on an outgoing tide and, on that tide, the ship would soon be sailing.

We slept for an hour. We made love again and he slept again, staying hard inside me while I lay awake enjoying the feel of his weight pinning me down. Sometimes you have to picture what you wish for. I had pictured the stranger and willed him into being.

I must have drifted into sleep. I remember my eyes blinking open, a smile on my lips. There was dull light around the unclosed blinds. Morning had come. It was the first day of a New Year – a new beginning. He was dressing. He leaned over, kissed my forehead, and I watched as he left my bedroom. I heard the click of the front door. Then there was silence.

Link for Amazon downloads – http://bookgoodies.com/a/B00S1SMMIG

Link for Amazon books –  http://bookgoodies.com/a/1503014908

Write to Chloe at – chloe.thurlow@yahoo.co.uk

Read Chloe’s extraordinary blogs at – www.chloethurlow.com

 

Chloe ThurlowBio

Chloe Thurlow lives in London and spends as much time as she can in Spain trying to improve her dire Spanish accent. The author of 5 previous novels, Katie in Love, is her first indy book – an experience she describes as walking blindfold on a highwire between two buildings without a safety net. Katie in Love is available as a beautifully-bound paperback and an ebook.

Website: http://www.chloethurlow.com/

 

GIVEAWAY!

Use the Rafflecopter to gain entries—and be sure to follow the tour. The more posts you comment on, the more entries you will get into the drawing: http://www.writermarketing.co.uk/prpromotion/blog-tours/currently-on-tour/chloe-thurlow/

a Rafflecopter giveaway

 

Out Now! Lisabet Sarai’s D&S Duos Book 4

Young woman with shibariToday I’m welcoming Lisabet Sarai back to celebrate Book 4 of her D&S series.

Blurb

Lisabet Sarai’s D&S Duos Book 4 celebrates the thrill of sexual power and the ecstasy of surrender. In “Like Riding a Bicycle”, after years of vanilla marriage, a couple resumes the kinky games that first drew them together. The characters in “Limbo” experience the ultimate erotic connection thanks to dangerous and addictive out-of-body technology. D&S Duos Book 4 also includes bonus story “Blind Obedience” and a transgressive excerpt from Lisabet’s erotic thriller Bangkok Noir.

Excerpt: 

We make our choices, often blindly. Then we live with the consequences.

It’s your fiftieth birthday, I’m half a world away, and married to someone else. I honestly don’t know which is the bigger obstacle. No, scratch that. If today’s experiment is successful, the distance will mean nothing.

I want to help you celebrate. To give you something special. Romantic and cynic that you are, I want to prove to you my enduring devotion, across time and space. I want to give back to you some of the magic you’ve shared with me.

I climb out of the taxi at the entrance to an alley too narrow for the compact Toyota to navigate, hand the driver a hundred baht and head toward my destination on foot. I’m somewhere in the maze of venerable lanes of Cholon. I smell star anise and decaying fish. I pass racks of drying laundry and bins of preserved fruit.

The address you emailed me belongs to a surprisingly grand, if somewhat decrepit, building, three stories of balconies and shutters. No sign. When I ring the bell, I am ushered into the waiting room by a powdered and rouged crone wearing too-tight silk and ropes of jade beads. She gestures for me to sit on the velvet banquette and shuffles away. The walls are mirrors, framed by faded brocade draperies. I can’t help grinning to myself; clearly, this state-of-the-art Monroe parlor used to be a brothel.

This was my idea, but you did all the research. I know that you’re somewhere in the basement of a fancy hotel in San Francisco. Very exclusive, top security. For executives who want the ultimate in “teleconferencing”.

The madame returns with a sheaf of papers. Release forms. Of course it’s all illegal anyway, but no one wants to take any chances. There are documented cases of people going astral and never returning. The parlor doesn’t want to be stuck with my still breathing but non-sentient body.

Buy Links

Amazon US

Amazon UK

Excessica

Barnes and Noble

Kobo 

 

lisabetFace
About
Lisabet:

LISABET SARAI occasionally tackles other genres, but BDSM will always be her first love. Every one of her nine novels
includes some element of power exchange, while her D/s short stories range from mildly kinky to intensely perverse. Learn more at http://www.lisabetsarai.com.

 

 

 

 

Find Lisabet here:

Website: http://www.lisabetsarai.com

Blog: http://lisabetsarai.blogspot.com

Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/83387.Lisabet_Sarai

Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/author/lisabetsarai

Yahoo group: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/lisabets_list

 

Out Now – The River’s Embrace by A. Silenus

releaseblitzbutton_riversembraceBlurb:

With her blond tresses and blue eyes, London fabric retailer Margery “Margie” Tull is used to being admired. When she’s hired to decorate a riverside manor house though, she suspects ulterior motives.

Lord of the manor Percival Winstanley reveals a long ago love triangle leading to death and the bewitching of his son and heir Stephen. Margie’s cousin Shyan is supposed to protect her. But he’s lured away by Winstanley’s cougarish housekeeper, Mrs. DePlessey, leaving Margie in the dubious care of servant Kern.

Unsure whom to trust, Margie turns first to artist Raphael Watts, also working at the house. Meanwhile Stephen hovers in the background trying to draw her attention to a cottage across the river. Somehow the women who live there are a portent of Margie’s fate. If only Stephen can convince her of what lies in store Margie can give new hope to the manor and its heir.

 

Buy links:

Barnes & Noble
All Romance eBooks
Amazon UK
Amazon US

TheRiversEmbrace_SM

Excerpt:

Margie crept from the hall to the library and back again. It was the strangest thing how people either were not there when they were wanted or were breathing down your neck and scaring you out of your skin. There seemed no middle way in this house.

She would have to go upstairs. It was the obvious place to look. She started climbing steps, feeling like an intruder and unsure how she would explain why she was snooping around the house if she did find someone. A snigger told her she was on the right track. Tiptoeing across the landing and down a passage way, she homed in on the intertwined voices, Shyan’s wisecracks and Mrs. DePlessey’s purrs of appreciation.

Through the gap between an open bedroom door and the jamb, Margie watched unobserved. Shyan was standing on a foot stool wearing only underwear. Evidently measuring requirements had reached the upper thigh. A crouching Mrs. DePlessey’s glistening nails trailed a tape over the city boy’s pale flanks. Shyan’s muscles tensed as her fingers neared the straining material of his briefs.

“Am I tickling?” The question was made to sound guileless, like a dentist asking “Am I hurting you?”

“Well a bit,” Shyan said. “But it don’t bother me.”

I’ll bet it doesn’t, Margie thought. She was so mad at him. Had he forgotten why he had come? Not to dally with the housekeeper, that’s for sure.

The waistband was the next number on Mrs. DePlessey’s list, and as her arms circumnavigated Shyan’s midriff with the tape measure she could not refrain from rubbing the bangles on her wrists against his bare skin. The metal must have been cold, because Shyan jumped slightly at the touch.

“Oh, I am sorry. Did I do that?”

You calculating bitch, Margie wanted to shriek. She’d seen better acting on the soaps.

But there was nothing simulated about Shyan’s reaction once the tape made contact at the base of his spine. Margie didn’t have to see below his waistband to know his self-control was on the edge. It wouldn’t take much to unbalance him.

All it did take was another move in Mrs. DePlessey’s repertoire of suggestive contact. As her breasts prodded his stomach, ostensibly so she could complete the tape loop, Shyan’s hands descended onto her shoulders. Then the tape was forgotten as her lips came up to meet his. Her clasping arms steadied him on the wobbling stool. They moved to the bed in an uncoordinated tango, and toppled into a grinding embrace. Shyan tackled the buttons on her blouse. His hand groped for the bra clip at her back. He suckled on an inflamed turret of a nipple, with a gusto equal to Ainsworth’s effort during Margie’s previous spying escapade. Then the couple’s hands met and, steered by one or the other—or both—glided in unison down the crevasse between their bodies until they disappeared inside Shyan’s briefs.

Margie was mesmerized. Exasperated as she was by her cousin’s easy compliance, she couldn’t help being fascinated by this mesh of desires. That was why it was so startling when Mrs. DePlessey rolled Shyan to one side and, with a light kiss on the lips, told him, “We must save this.”

Shyan gaped and attempted to insert a hand between her closed thighs.

“For what?” he asked.

She smiled, not in the provocative way Margie half expected, but rather as if Shyan hadn’t understood.

“In time,” she said. “In time.”

 

Author Bio:

Silenus spent his early years in southern England and now lives in Arizona. He writes in various genres under different names. His erotica-oriented material includes three self-published sets of short stories, Fiends That Go Boink, which has otherworldly themes, Obsessions and Two Men And A Woman In A Boat.

Other stories have been published in anthologies, ezines and magazines, including Afternoon Delight (Cleis), The MILF Anthology (Blue Moon), Wicked Pleasures (Ravenous Romance), and Forum magazine in the UK.

For more about Silenus and his work, please go to his blog: Basic Writes: http://asilenus.blogspot.com/

 

Spy Games — Another Fab New Anthology Edited by Jillian Boyd

It’s totally my pleasure to announce that the wonderful author and editor, Jillian Boyd, has an exciting new anthology Cover2out called Spy Games — a sizzling collection of nine stories, by nine delicious authors, all about spies and detectives. Move over Mr Bond! Make room for something truly sexy!

SPY GAMES Blurb:

From the sunny streets of South Florida, to the bars of Paris, to the backstreets of Rome where a secret club for old spies lies hidden, Spy Games is a collection of nine tantalizing tales in which spies and detectives seduce and deduce in all corners of the world.

Edited by Jillian Boyd and featuring stories from the likes of Zak Jane Keir, Slave Nano, Emily L. Byrne and F. Leonora Solomon, Spy Games is filled with danger, desire and the thrill of sex and spying. Unleash your inner Mata Hari and devour this collection… should you choose to accept this mission, of course.

Spy Games Buy links:

Amazon UK – http://www.amazon.co.uk/Spy-Games-Thrilling-Erotica-ebook/dp/B00V5659WW/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1427644792&sr=8-1&keywords=Spy+Games%3A+Thrilling+Spy+Erotica

Amazon US – http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_noss_2?url=search-alias%3Daps&field-keywords=Spy+Games%3A+Thrilling+Spy+Erotica

ARe – https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-spygames-1766800-362.html

 

Spy GamesExcerpt:

from Mid-Life Career Changes by Jessica Taylor

On my last night with Roman, I dropped from a contorted perch in the airshaft of his kitchen. I knew he kept no security in his house overnight, perhaps the only honest mistake I ever saw him make. My bare feet made no sound as I landed like a small grasshopper next to his purring refrigerator in the warm, inky dark. The lights of the city pulsed like stars through the glass walls of his home. I remember almost deviating, almost going to stand next to his round, thick dining table in front of those transparent walls overlooking the up lit trees of the park below. Roman had eaten there last, sipping magenta borscht and reading the paper Nash Gorod – Our City. Then he had gone to his freezer and pulled a translucent bottle of anise liqueur from the drawer. Dressed in silk black pyjama bottoms, his nipples hardened when he slowly kissed the bottle, leaning back peacefully onto the cold metal. His Adam’s apple bobbed finely as he pulled on the cloudy fluid.

I stole across his open home until I came to the ornately carved door of his master suite. In the centre of the room, my man was sleeping soundlessly, innocently tucked into the folds of his red silk bed. Talismans and the charms of the superstitious decorated the high ceiling above the entrance and I knew from months of watching that he crossed himself each night before he finally entered. I had smelled sage and peppercorn as I envisioned him walking down the hall, shirtless and stretching his arms above his head, scratching his shoulder blade lazily.

My hands, I remember, had shaken. It was a miniscule vibration but still it was there. It took moments longer to pick the lock than it normally would have. I suspect I even made noise, as if I was subconsciously warning him. But when I slithered in, he remained asleep and undisturbed. Then my steps were choppy, without confidence or grace, as I moved across the room to my sleeping, waiting man.  He had slept so noiselessly, I thought to myself he would not keep even me, such a light sleeper, awake the way other men had with their lip smacking and snoring. I would have been at peace beside him.

When he opened his eyes, there was no fear or surprise. He looked at me as if he was awaiting me and I had finally emerged from between the trees. His eyes travelled my tightly shrouded body, taking in my small frame, my bare feet. In those days, I carried no weapons. Perhaps when he noticed this, he thought he might have a chance. Or maybe he thought escape from the situation possible when he saw the confusion in my own eyes, the hesitance in my stance. He pushed himself up slowly, as if to not ignite a wild animal, as we continued our mutual gaze. He spoke first, with a voice I knew well; scratchy and deep, caressing my ears like a symphony.

“You don’t look like one of my normal girls,” Roman announced sarcastically but calmly. “Who sent you?” he continued.

I wonder now what my voice sounded like to him the first time he heard me speak. Was it instantly intoxicating, as his was for me? “I don’t actually know,” I responded, honestly but quietly. “It’s not the way that I operate.” I spared him the explanation that I always opted out of knowing who wanted it done or why. I found that such information hindered my efficiency.

He slowly sat up, the red sheets falling into his lap. He drew his hands to his chest in submission as his carved, naked muscles flexed. “How long have you been with me?”

I sighed as I stared longingly between the lines of his muscles, “Six months.” His face had reddened then, thinking perhaps about whom he would personally execute for the oversight of my presence. I let him slide his feet to the floor in the same way I had seen him do so many times before. Perhaps because I am so small, he thought he could out manoeuvre me. He thrust forward like a beast released from a cage, groping towards the spot where I knew he kept a 9mm Glock.

I dropped to my knees, thinking to swipe his ankles. With my legs spread, and my shins pressed to the ground, I looked up into his clear blue eyes. My mouth hung open in awe. I had never seen his eyes this close and they mesmerized me. My sex began to throb and my breasts swelled with heaviness. A dull ache stirred in my clitoris. I was overcome with sensation I thought I could suppress. He hovered over me, looking down at me between his legs. I must have seemed so inane, so slight, perhaps even so lovely straddled there beneath him, looking up at him like a confused but lovesick dog. All I would have had to do was rise onto my knees and I could take him into my empty mouth as I kept staring into those calm eyes.

I will never know why he stopped going for the gun, why he looked down at me with a new expectation, or why he pulled on the black silk tie of his sleeping pants to give me a chance. They drifted with the speed of a feather to the ground at my knees and all of the fantasies I could not suppress over the past few months filled me like a dam had broken. I saw us walking through the park with the lost, white dog prancing along beside us. I saw us sparring, and then falling to make love on the mat. I saw myself as his warrior, his personal assassin for any man he needed taken down.

After months watching him, he had made me doubt my solitude and even my consuming profession, and I was deeply grateful to be beneath him watching his cock elegantly harden. I suddenly wanted to express my respect and longing for him. I wanted to show him how he had changed me, though I was still unsure in what ways I was different. When he ever so slightly nodded his head to me, my mouth watered, saliva jumping from the buds in my mouth.

I arched my back and leaned my small breasts in to rub at his knees. For a second only I worried for his hands having access to my neck, where we both know places for that smooth snap. But the skin of his cock had turned dark and burgundy against the white of his muscular thighs and I was magnetised. I placed my hand at the base of his shaft, opened my mouth and flattened my tongue over his balls. I dragged my tongue up him, each taste bud softly abrading and then absorbing him as I moved up to the head of his cock. I ascended so slowly, as if every cell of his skin needed to be tasted. I licked it ravenously, the way Eve had when she first beheld and then tasted her own apple.

I hovered there, at the bright head of his dick, and dug my nails into his inner thighs as I tried to hold myself back from swallowing him too deeply. When I finally let myself take him slowly into the back of my throat, he had begun to softly groan “yes” with each exhale. He pulled at my bundled brown hair so it fell down my arched, begging back. When he dug a powerful hand into the roots and shoved my head farther onto his dick, I moaned loudly and my nipples tightened, fiercely longing to be thumbed.

He lifted me without effort just before he could no longer keep himself from erupting hotly onto my face. That would have been enough for me, to swallow him reverently. He sat me on the heavy wooden bed in front of him and peeled off my black pants. He set his teeth against the inside of my ripped thigh and squeezed his teeth on my muscle. I thought briefly of the major arteries available to his mouth, if he was considering using it for a different kind of destruction. As he bit, he pulled back the skin of my hood and rubbed the head of my clit, already engorged and slick just from sucking him. I drew my knees toward me as I balanced back onto my arms and spread with trust for him.

When I lifted my eyes from his dirty blond head, I discovered a mirror behind us and watched his gluteal muscles ripple and twitch as he thrust his tongue into me. Misty grey tattoos covered his back and I could see a scar where one had been dug from his body by the blade of another man’s knife. If I were his, he would be perfectly protected for life. A white, shiny scar had healed there but threads of leftover ink still peppered the new skin. I first came quietly and deeply with his face between my legs, lapping my clitoris while his two fingers calmly caressed me. I stared into the white dwarf star of that scar that swallowed me whole.

As he stood, I returned my hands to his cock and stroked him as he discarded my tight black top and I stared up into his blue eyes, biting my lip and wishing for this moment to continue on and on. He spat on my breasts and then sat his dick between them and slid himself up and down. He stroked my hard, dark nipples, exactly as I’d dreamed before. I grew wetter and wetter, the energy in my pelvis growing as I began to moan softly for him. Just then, he could have done anything to end me. He could have slit my throat or choked my breath from me. I submerged myself in the moments with him, avoiding myself and the decisions I would need to make, lost from my consciousness as he rubbed me and showed me his beautiful cock and let me pet his tattooed chest and abdomen. My cheeks and neck flushed red like they did when I sprinted after him in the park below, like they did when we pounded ourselves into switch kicks and hooks.

I let him turn me and set me on my knees in front of him on the bed. He could have made a horror movie of me, dark and sadistic with my blood smeared on the walls and my insides brutalized entirely differently. I didn’t worry about his hands groping for a gun as he kept on massaging both my nipples while he pumped himself deeply into me from behind. Eventually, he grabbed my ass and split my cheeks as he slowly pulled his length from me, floated at my entrance, and then painfully slowly slid back into me. I dripped sweat when he sped up, fucking me deep, hard, and rhythmically. I was too weak with desire to fear him when he set his hands on top of his head, continuing to bang into me. “Harder,” I begged as I stroked myself and pressed my face into the red sheets.

He could have shot me, stabbed me, broken my neck. Instead, he fucked me until I came twice more. The last time, I was on my back and he had smiled deep into my eyes. This was the smile I had seen when he was deeply happy, deeply at peace. This was his smile for lost dogs in the park, for toasting frozen vodka at midnight, for singing off key in the gym late at night. He withdrew from me as I stared hazily at him and the world exploded around me. He erupted searing cum onto my belly and chest. Then he massaged it into my breasts and nipples as he softly made love to my lips and tongue with his mouth.

After, Roman lay behind me—he spooned me tenderly and I allowed it—as we spoke softly for some time. He asked me what I had seen over the past months, and I told him, which was everything. He sighed deeply as if it mattered what one murderer saw another do, as if he still planned on us both making it out of there.  Telling Roman the complexity of his life, I finally admitted to myself how I had come to fall in love with him. And I failed to recognize that the story could have a different ending.

Find Jessica Here:

Twitter: https://twitter.com/jessahtaylor

 

About Jillian Boyd:

Jillian Boyd is an erotica author and blogger, who has been putting dirty words on paper and on her blog for the past three years. She likes taking everyday, seemingly mundane situations and making them sexy and sensual – and when she’s not doing that, she lets her imagination fly off into history and distant planets. Where she also tries to find everyday situations and make them sexy and sensual.

She’s been published in several House of Erotica anthologies, contributed to Tiffany Reisz’s office supply erotica charity anthology Felt Tips and has a story in the Golden Crown Literary Award-winning Best Lesbian Romance 2014, published by Cleis Press. She is currently working on her first novella, a sci-fi erotic thriller called In Another Life.

Find Jillian here:

Spy Games Facebook page: https://www.facebook.com/spygamesantho

 
© 2017 K D Grace
The Romance Reviews

Site created and maintained by Writer Marketing Services | Sitemap
Social media & sharing icons powered by UltimatelySocial