The Collared Collection Shameless Selfie: Part 2

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Aaaaand! As promised, this weekend is part two of The Collared Collection double whammy Shameless Selfie. This is weekend two in which I’m shamelessly promoting two books at once — that’s right, I’m promoting The Collared Collection, which is a fabulous two-book box set of kinky Ks! Kay Jaybee’s fabulous novel, The Voyeur is cover to cover, cheek to cheek with my novel, The Pet Shop. Both of us agree that while these two novels are among our favourite erotic efforts, they don’t exactly fit in anywhere else, and yet, together side by side, the do quite nicely. This week, I’m very happy to share with you a sizzler from my novel, The Pet Shop. Enjoy!

(If you missed last week’s Shameless Selfie featuring a steamy except from Kay Jaybee, don’t fret. Here’s the link)

The Collared Collection Blurb:

The Collared Collection is a two novel boxed set from the pens of multi-award winning erotica writers, K D Grace
and Kay Jaybee.

In the Voyeur by Kay Jaybee, wealthy businessman and committed voyeur, Mark Parker, has a list of 13 fantasies he is intent on turning into reality. Travelling between his London flat, his plush Oxfordshire mansion, and Discreet, his favourite BDSM club; Mark is helped to realise his imaginatively dark erotic desires by two loyal members of his staff – his personal assistant, Anya Grant, and his housekeeper, Clara Hooper.

Upon the backs of his willing slaves, Mark has written out his fantasy list in thick red pen. Only Fantasy 12 awaits the tick of completion against their flesh before Mark’s ultimate fantasy, Fantasy 13, can take place. But have the girls performed well enough to succeed in the final challenge? And what hold does Bridge’s gentleman’s club, Anya’s previous employer and a place she was delighted to escape from, have over Mark?

In order to find out, the girls are going to have to face some of the fantasies they thought they had left behind them all over again.

In The Pet Shop by K D Grace, in appreciation for a job well done, Stella James’s boss sends her a pet, a human pet. The mischievous Tino comes straight from The Pet Shop complete with a collar, a leash, and an erection. Stella soon discovers the pleasure of keeping Pets, especially this one, it’s extremely addicting. Obsessed with Tino and with the reclusive philanthropist, Vincent Evanston, who looks like Tino, but couldn’t be more different, Stella is drawn into the secret world of The Pet Shop. As her animal lust awakens, Stella must walk the thin line that separates the business of pleasure from the more dangerous business of the heart or suffer the consequences.

 

Available from Amazon (universal link)http://mybook.to/collaredcollection

 

Pets Don’t like to Eat Alone Excerpt from The Pet Shop:

Pets don’t like to eat alone. They prefer to sit on the floor by the table next to their keeper’s chair, where they enjoy being hand-fed. If this is not possible, place food in a bowl next to the water dish. Make sure meat is always cut into bite-sized chunks.

collared-bundle-copyNote: The former is preferable, as most Pets and Pet keepers find sharing a meal in this fashion very enjoyable and a part of their bonding experience.

The manual was right. Once she got the hang of offering Tino choice morsels in her open hand, the laving of his velvety wet tongue, the slight nipping of teeth and curling of lips was lovely. He sat on his haunches, once again fully erect, resting his head on her naked thigh in between bites. If she hadn‟t been ravenous, she would have never been able to concentrate on eating. He was as happy to nibble the mushrooms and tomatoes as he was the bacon and eggs. The toast with honey forced him to lick the sweet stickiness off the tips of her fingers, even occasionally off her thigh when her efforts were clumsy with the excitement of having such an exquisite creature eating from her hand.

She’d had a similar sense of excitement the first time a horse had taken a sugar lump from her hand. That something so powerful, something potentially wild and dangerous had allowed itself to be fed by her was an exhilarating experience. At present, the magnificent beast on the floor insinuated himself a little closer to her with each bite, and she was pretty sure this wild animal had more than food in mind.

Tino scooted and wriggled himself until, at last, he sat between her legs, his humid breath warming her mons.

With each morsel of food, he insinuated his waiting face a little closer to her pussy until her open palm with its offered tidbit was practically resting against her pubis. When a particularly sticky morsel of toast ended up on the chair between her legs, he carefully licked up every bit from the chair, and then he continued lapping his way right on up between her legs.

She caught her breath with a little whimper and a jerk. The bite of toast she was about to offer slipped from her hand onto her belly. Tino wasn‟t bothered. He simply squeezed in between the table and her body, forcing her chair back just enough that he could nibble and lick the toast and honey from her tightening abdominal muscles. That done, he picked up where he’d left off, nibbling and licking between her pouting labia.

Fascinated and aroused by his eating habits, she grabbed a handful of egg and wiped it across her breasts and down her stomach, licking the remains from her fingers, feeling a bit animal herself. He raised his head again and worked his way up her belly nibbling scrambled eggs as he went, pushing her chair back farther and farther from the table.

She gave up on any semblance of proper table etiquette and slid onto the floor next to him. She grabbed the plate from the table on her way down, shoving a handful of egg into her own mouth before smearing more egg and a bit of tomato across her breasts and belly. Lying back she let Tino nibble and lap his breakfast off her body until she was writhing and grinding on the floor beneath his enthusiastic tongue.

He surprised her by taking a rasher of bacon from the plate and offering it to her, mouth to mouth. It was almost like a porn version of Lady and the Tramp as they gnawed and nibbled their way to each other’s mouth, tongues lapping and lips smacking the salty savoury taste of the meat.

She plucked a nice plump mushroom from the plate. It reminded her of the tip of a cock as she eased it between her slippery folds far enough that Tino had to work to get it out.

But Tino didn’t mind working for his breakfast. And by the time he had extricated the mushroom, she was completely convinced his tongue was prehensile. His face glistening with her juices, the mushroom pressed daintily between his lips, he slid up her sticky body and offered her the morsel with its unique sauce of their lovemaking. Together they gulped down the tangy fungus between gasps for breath, breath which seemed to be harder and harder to get as their meal continued.

 

 

 

 

The Smell of Traveling: When the Nose Knows

airport-2Airport encounters – who’s had one? I’ve never had the pleasure. Who’s fantasized about having one? Or maybe it would be better to ask who the hell hasn’t? Travel figures prominently in a lot of my romance novels and it has been that way since the beginning with my very first novel – in fact it’s been that way since my very first short story. As I mentioned in my last post, the thing about travel is that you spend a lot of time being in that space in between, and it’s in that space in between that unexpected things, almost magical things happen. No place represents the space in between more than airport lounges. Most of the time you do whatever you have to in order to keep busy and keep from getting bored. But there are times when you get way more from an airport lounge that just good coffee and a comfy place to wait for your flight. Certainly that’s Liza Calendar’s situation in To Rome with Lust. Liza’s all about olfactory encounters, and this particular one is a delight to the sense of smell. Enjoy!

 

To Rome with Lust

Book three of The Mount trilogy

(Click here for Book One | Book Two)

The adventure that Rita Holly began in The Mount in London and Nick Chase took up in Vegas continues when a sizzling encounter on a flight to Rome has journalist, Liza Calendar, and perfumer, Paulo ‘The Nose’ Delacour, in sexy olfactory heaven. The heir apparent of Martelli Fragrance, Paulo wants Liza’s magnificently sensitive nose to help develop Martelli’s controversial new line. Paulo has a secret weapon; Martelli Fragrance is the front for the original Mount, an ancient sex cult of which he is a part, and Paulo plans to use the scent of sex to enhance Martelli’s Innuendo line. As Liza and Paulo sniff out the scent of seduction, they become their own best lab rats. But when someone steals the perfume formulas and lays the blame at Liza’s feet, she and Paulo must sniff out the culprit and prove Liza’s innocence before more is exposed than just secret formulas.

 

To Rome with Lust – The Nose Knows Excerpt:

to-rome-with-lustLiza thought she had only dreamed such an exquisite scent. She’d certainly never smelled anything so sexy while she was awake. It was all very strange. Her dreams had always been the only part of her life that was olfactory-free. She sat in the business lounge at JFK dozing, blocking out the noise and the smell of the busy shuffle. But this smell was different. This smell was just too delicious to ignore. It intensified, then faded, and she snuffled and inhaled and shifted in her seat.

Delays due to heavy thunderstorms meant the place was packed with passengers awaiting a spate of flights going out at nearly the same time. But her flight wasn’t delayed. She was just there way early, thanks to Carl. After an unplanned night alone in a hotel room, she couldn’t get out of New York City fast enough — not after what she’d seen … and smelled. But she didn’t want to think about Carl. Time to move forward.

She had just slipped back into that space between wakefulness and sleep when the scent wafted over her again. There was no denying it was the primal smell of male. It was the smell of desert lightening, of sage and juniper and thick, dark night. It was the smell of sex – or at least the intimations of sex or what sex might be like with a man who smelled so irresistible.

Jesus, was she really going to have sexy dreams right here in the airport? What next? Would she be rubbing herself against the sofa while all the businessmen and the tourist pretended not to notice? Surely it was only because of the sex she’d expected to get last night, but didn’t. Surely it was just her angry unconscious inventing an olfactory fantasy, but God, the man smelled good – better than anyone she’d ever smelled, and she smelled everyone! She inhaled again and her deep intake of scent came out sounding like a sigh. Her lips parted just enough to take in the fullness of the experience. She could almost taste that hypnotic smell of masculinity. Her nipples chafed against her bra until they dominated the front of her sweater with an achy tetchy fullness that matched the tightening she felt between her thighs. It was as though the man stood right over her. She could smell expensive fabric weighted and warmed with the heat of his flesh. His crotch, where the delicious scent was purest, was so close that her mouth watered. The scent was heavy, thickening, male — driven by passion. Letting the dream take control, Liza shifted, uncrossed her legs and leaned forward to draw in his scent, wanting nothing so much as to touch, to caress, to experiment on ways to arouse from her dream man more of that delicious scent.

There was a soft grunt, a startled gasp, and a large hand came down heavily on her shoulder. There was a desperate clearing of a throat and a slightly accented ‘Pardon me.’

She opened her eyes and found herself nose to crotch with a very expensive suit not quite able to disguise a very nice package. Her fingers were fisted in the edges of the front pockets of the trousers, reeling their wearer ever closer and closer to her salivating mouth. She yelped and practically shoved the guy, who might have fallen if not for the hand resting on her shoulder. ‘Oh my god! I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,’ she gasped. ‘I was dreaming.’ Her face burning and her pulse did a drumroll in her ears as she raised her eyes up and up and up the length of the well filled-out charcoal suit to meet rich caramel eyes looking down at her from beneath thick midnight lashes. The scent hit her in waves, making her giddy, making her want to sniff like a dog in heat, making her feel wrong-footed and out of focus.

‘Must have been some dream.’ His eyes sparkled and he offered her a half-smile. His warm hands fell to cover hers and disengage them from his pockets. ‘I can’t tell you how sorry I am that I woke you, but I’d really hate it if your dream got us both kicked out of the lounge.’ His thumbs brushed over the backs of her knuckles before he released her. ‘Is it all right if I share you sofa? The lounge is really crowded.’

‘Yes! Of course, please.’ She shifted and rearranged herself, resisting the urge to fold her arms across her perky nipples. It was even harder to resist the urge to pant and sniff. My God, if an aphrodisiac could be inhaled, his scent would so be that aphrodisiac. She felt moist and swollen, splayed in the crotch of her panties, too tender for the weight of her body against to sofa.

‘Are you all right?’ The man’s eyes had darkened with concern. ‘You seem in distress.’

‘Fine! I’m fine,’ she said with enthusiasm that made her sound like a dork. ‘Just outrageously embarrassed.’

‘Don’t be. You made my morning, and gave me something I’ll smile about for what’ll be a very long, very tedious flight. You sure you’re all right?’

‘You smell amazing,’ she blurted out before she could stop herself, then she felt the flash-fire burn rise to her cheeks again. Jeez! Could she sound any more stupid?

He raised an eyebrow and cocked his head. ‘Thanks. Ode d’ generic hotel soap,’ he said.

‘No, it’s not the soap, I mean I can smell that too, but …’ What the fuck was it with her? She practically attacked the guy — who handled an embarrassing situation very graciously all things considered — and now she informs him she’d been sniffing? ‘Never mind. I … like I said, I was dreaming.’

He leaned forward in a wave of scent that made her dizzy with lust. ‘No, please, don’t be embarrassed. I’m very airport-4interested in all things olfactory. And I’m really flattered that you like the way I smell.’

‘I’m sorry. I have a sensitive nose.’ She forced a laugh. ‘I guess maybe I’m a little closer to my animal roots than most people. I … I pick up on scent … way more than most people do. Bit of an evolutionary throw-back, I’m afraid.’

His smile was practically edible. ‘Humans are mammals. Mammals live through their sense of smell. We’ve just gotten lazy and forgotten how to do that. Real scent is hard to come by in a world that’s been deodorized, sanitized and scrubbed. Apparently you remember.’

Oh, she remembered all right. She remembered so much more than she wished she did at times. She could feel his dark, rich gaze against her, feel his scent baring down on her, now spiked with the cinnamon nip of curiosity. She knew what was coming. She waited for it.

‘So,’ he leaned still closer and everything in her felt giddy and humid. ‘Tell me what you smell?’

God, she knew he was going to ask that. She should have kept her damned mouth shut. To ask her to describe his scent was like asking her to describe what she thought sex with him would be like, and with a scent like his, she could imagine it would be pretty fucking amazing. On the other hand, if he stayed leaning close like this, she’d have a few more seconds to sniff and enjoy before he suspected her of total nutterdom.

‘Don’t be embarrassed. As I said, the sense of smell and the way we humans use it is of special interest to me.’

She leaned in and inhaled deeply through her nose. After all he had given her permission to sniff. ‘You smell like summer lightening … at high altitude. She inhaled again and closed her eyes, hearing the catch of his breath. ‘Beneath that, you smell like evergreen and the earth around tree roots.’ His breathing accelerated. She leaned still closer, and the slip and slide of fabric on fabric informed her that he’d done the same until they were nearly touching. She inhaled again. ‘You smell like a rainstorm on the wind just before it arrives, but that’s because you’re skeptical, and I don’t blame you.’

It became a competition to see who could breathe the hardest. Her belly muscles trembled and tensed way down low; in her panties, the clench and release, clench and release had left her swollen and pouty. She opened her eyes just a slit, then closed them again, but there was no mistaking the shape of his growing erection. Her own scent spiked all honey- butter and nutmeg.

‘What else?’ he breathed. ‘Is there more?’

‘Your curiosity smells of cinnamon and there’s a bit of irritation, tart, tangy, almost like lemon.’ Her eyes fluttered open at the same moment his did.

‘Oh it’s not you,’ he said quickly. ‘I mean I’m not irritated with you. It’s this trip. I didn’t plan to take it and now I find out … wait a minute. You can smell emotions?’

‘Kind of,’ she said, trying not to look at his erection, as he shifted to rearrange himself a little less conspicuously. Then she couldn’t resist. ‘What about me? Can you smell me?’ Jesus! Why did she ask such a loaded question?

mountboxsetHe squirmed again, which did nothing to hide his needy package. A blush rose to his cheeks. ‘Maybe … Possibly.’ He inhaled a shaky breath through his nose like he was afraid of what he might smell. ‘The more we talk … the more I smell.’ His eyes fluttered shut again. ‘You’re … not wearing perfume.’

‘I never do.’ She eased herself closer, resisting the urge to rest a hand on his thigh. ‘It interferes with other smells.’

He nodded, as though he completely understood. ‘You smell like the sea, but you also smell like honey and butter melting over hot bread.’

Did she just whimper? Oh god, please say she didn’t just whimper and shift her bottom against the sofa. Surely she
didn’t do that.

This time he inhaled boldly, pushing forward on the sofa, his eyes closed, suddenly making no attempt to cover the heavy strain against the front of his trousers. The cinnamon scent of him spiked and became more peppery. ‘Jesus, I can’t believe we’re doing this.’ His voice was little more than a whisper between parted lips, lips that Liza would only have to lean into to touch with her own. ‘I can’t believe I can smell all that. I’m probably imagining it.’

‘No you’re not. You’re not imagining it,’ she whispered back.

He was suddenly breathing as though he’d just ran a marathon, each breath through his nose, each breath followed by a gulp, almost as though he were eating the scent of her.

‘People are looking. We should stop.’ She barely got the words out before he leaned in just a tiny bit further and, in his enthusiasm, his lips brushed hers. Everything spiked in a sharp stab of scent that went straight to her pussy, as they both gasped and sat back, eyes wide, fingers pressed to lips.

The delayed flight to Paris was called over the intercom immediately after one to Frankfurt and, in the jostling and shifting and gathering of belongings, no one paid any attention to them. She wasn’t sure it would have made any difference even if they’d suddenly been center stage. Their gaze locked on each other, cheeks flushed, chests heaving, they sat locked in a moment so tight, so full that its breaking apart was inevitable. It was ridiculous. She was seconds away from coming, and his cock was about to burst his trousers. And his lips, my god his lips, she could think of so many places on her body she wanted those lips.

‘I have to know,’ he gasped. ‘Surely you want to know too.’ Then he did the unthinkable. He curled his fingers into the back of her hair and pulled her to him. This time their lips met with a clash of teeth and a gasped swallow of oxygen that transitioned into parted lips and darting tongues and an absolute explosion of scent. If he had smelled amazing by himself, if his scent had sharpened hers to the cutting edge of orgasm, then the mixing and blending that happened when they touched, when those two scents came together was shattering. ‘I’ve never smelled anything like it,’ she breathed into his mouth.

‘Me neither,’ He bit her lower lip and tugged and their blended smell became darker, more spicy, tones of earth and sea, pepper and honey and my god the guy could kiss!

She came first with a guttural grunt of an orgasm that began deep in her pussy and washed over her like a riptide. She tried desperately to hide it, but he knew it. He felt it, she even thought he smelled it, and he tightened his fist in her hair, breathing her into his open mouth. Both his hands then slid to her shoulders in a grip that was almost painful as he pulled back. His eyes locked on hers, and his whole body convulsed, and again, and again, his deep mocha gaze holding her tight as pupils dilated and eyelids shuddered.

For a moment they sat stunned, staring at each other, struggling to catch their breath. He looked shell-shocked, and she must have looked at least as bad. ‘I’m sorry,’ they both said at the same time as they mirrored each other in a airport-7nervous laugh.

Then the intercom called the flight to Rome. ‘That’s my flight,’ she gasped, awash in a wave of embarrassment. She
babbled something about duty free and gifts, sounding like a total idiot. She grabbed her bag and her laptop and fled, feeling certain everyone was watching, feeling certain everyone knew exactly what they had done. It didn’t matter though, at the end of the day, she’d never see the man again. And she’d never smell him again. That saddened her.

 

Buy To Rome With Lust Here:

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Chocolate Truffles and a Chance Encounter: Traveling with Ms Holly

chocolate-truffle-candiesMore Travel Erotica today, as promised while I’m in Oregon for the next two weeks. As I’ve mentioned, travel figures prominently in a lot of my romance novels and it has been that way since the beginning with my very first novel – in fact the very first scene in my very first novel, The Initiation of Ms Holly, which opens in a stalled train beneath the English Channel in the Eurostar tunnel. Once again, the thing about travel is that you spend a lot of time being in that space in between, and it’s in that space in between that unexpected things, almost magical things happen. Most of the time you do whatever you have to in order to keep busy and keep from getting bored. But there are times when you get way more from an unexpected encounter in a bad situation than you ever bargained for. Enjoy!

 


The Initiation of Ms Holly Blurb:

Book One in The Mount trilogy (Click here for: Book Two | Book Three)

Journalist, Rita Holly, never dreamed sex with the mysterious Edward in the dark of a malfunctioning train would lead to a blindfolded, champagne-drenched tango, a spanking by a butch waitress, and an offer of initiation into the exclusive mysteries of The Mount. Desperate to save her threatened job, she agrees, scheming secretly to write an inside exposé on the club that will make her career. But as she delves deeper into the intrigue of The Mount and the lives of its members, she soon discovers that her heart may have other plans.

 

holly-final-cover-imageChance Encounter in a Stalled Train – The Initiation of Ms Holly Excerpt

 He practically fell on top of Rita, his hand grazing her left breast in the complete darkness. She yelped and grabbed him to keep from losing her balance.

‘God, I’m sorry!’ He gasped. ‘Bloody nuisance, this, isn’t it?’ His voice was warm, melodious, by far the most pleasant thing that had happened to Rita since she left Paris. ‘Oh dear. You’re trembling. Are you all right?’

‘I’m claustrophobic’ her words were thin and shaky, as though she didn’t fully trust herself to let them out. ‘It wouldn’t be so bad if I didn’t know where we are.’ For an embarrassing moment, she realized she was still clinging to him, but the embarrassment passed, and suddenly she didn’t care. If they were going to die trapped in a train in the Eurostar tunnel, buried beneath a gazillion gallons of water, she’d just as soon not do it alone.

He either understood, or was too polite to leave her in such distress. He wrapped his arms around her engulfing her in a muscular embrace, the scent of which was maleness barely masked by deodorant and some spicy cologne, both fading at the end of a day much longer than either of them had anticipated. ‘Don’t worry.’ In the darkness, he misjudged the distance between them and his lips brushed her earlobe. ‘It’s just an electrical malfunction. Anyway we’re better off down here than in the snowstorm up above. Sounds like all of London is shut down. Who’d have expected snow this late in the spring? Never mind that, where else do you get the chance to cuddle strangers in the dark?’

He pressed a little closer to her, and she was relieved to find other thoughts, thoughts more welcome than those of their predicament, pushing their way into her head. He felt good, broad-shouldered and tall, easy to lean on.

‘Why are you huddled here in the corner rather than hunkered down in your seat?’

She concentrated on his warm breath pressing against the top of her ear. ‘I was on my way back from the loo when the lights went out and…’

‘And this is as far as you got.’

She nodded against his chest, homing in on the reassuring sound of his heartbeat.

‘Shall I help you back to your seat then?’

The train lurched forward, and she yelped again, tightening her grip around his neck. ‘No, please. It’s better if I just don’t move.’

There was a long pause. ‘Do you want me to stay with you?’

She realized the poor man had little choice clenched in her strangle hold, as he was. ‘I don’t want to be any trouble,’ she lied.

He readjusted his stance and tightened his embrace. ‘No trouble at all. I can’t think of a better way to pass the time than in the arms of a beautiful woman. You are beautiful, aren’t you?’

In spite of the stress she felt, she forced a laugh. ‘Gorgeous, actually. Too bad you can’t see for yourself.’

He ran a hand down the contour of her spine to rest low on the small of her back. ‘I don’t have to see you to admire you.’

the_initiation_of_ms_hollyxcite-cover
The thought that the man was rather cheeky barely crossed her mind before he lifted her fingers to his lips and planted a warm kiss across the back of her knuckles. ‘I’m Edward. I’m from London. Clearly you’re not.’

‘Rita,’ she replied. ‘I’m from Seattle, but I live in London now.’

‘Well Rita, from Seattle, we’ve established that you’re an exotic beauty. Perhaps you’d like to return the favour.’ He lifted her hand to his face and guided it gently over the slight stubble of his cheek. As her hand cupped his well-formed chin, he pulled her middle finger into his mouth and nibbled it, teasing the pad of it with his tongue. Suddenly her struggle to breathe had nothing to do with being claustrophobic.

‘Well?’ He asked pulling her hand away to massage her fingers. ‘What do you think? Am I acceptable?’

If he was cheeky, she was downright brazen. She stopped his words with her mouth, amazed at how easily she had found the mark in total darkness. Perhaps it was the darkness that made her so bold, but whatever it was, he didn’t disappoint. His mouth was warm, opening eagerly to the probing of her tongue, responding in kind, caressing her hard pallet, nipping at the fullness of her lower lip before pulling away just enough to speak.

‘There, you see? It’s not so bad being in the dark, is it? The other senses are too often overlooked, which is very sad, since they offer such exquisite delights.’ His hand moved up to cup her cheek, and he raked a thumb across her still parted lips. ‘Taste, for example. Few pleasures exceed that of the tongue.’

She heard him fumbling in the darkness, then she heard the rattling of foil. ‘Open your mouth,’ he whispered. ‘I have something that’ll make you feel better, guaranteed. Oh don’t worry, it’s nothing illegal.’

Reluctantly she opened her mouth, which he primed with a wet kiss, then slipped a chocolate truffle between her
lips. It was covered liberally in cocoa and warmed exquisitely almost, but not quite to the steamy melting point of his body temperature, which only enhanced the sharp, edgy flavor that separates expensive chocolate from the cheap stuff.

She gasped her surprise, then moaned softly at the intensity of the taste.

‘Don’t bite,’ he kissed her jaw, then her throat. ‘Savour it, roll it around in your mouth. There are places on the
tongue that taste only sweet and places that taste only bitter or salt, or sour. Chocolate can have all those flavors. Caress eurostareb48d831-9ee9-4f82-a2bf-25601437ce53-2060x1236it in your mouth like you’re making love to it, and you’ll be amazed at what you taste.’

She cheeked the truffle, slurring her words as she spoke. ‘I thought I was tasting you.’

He chuckled softly. ‘Everything tastes better with chocolate.’ Without another word, he took her mouth, plunging his tongue deep against the melting truffle, whirling it, lapping at it, sighing with the pleasure of it. The more liquid and heated the truffle became, the more liquid and heated Rita became.

 

Buy The Initiation of Ms Holly Here:

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Lovehoney

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Reviews

“Skillfully written to provide a provocative blend of kinky sex with subtle mystery. Simply put, this book is a page-turner for the erotic reader.” The Romance Reviews

See the full review here

 

*****

 

“The Initiation of Ms. Holly is so hot I am still tingling a day after I finished reading this novel. This spicy number will heat you up and keep you fully charged for days to come.” – Coffee Time Romance

See the full review here

 

*****

 

“This story had an exciting plot with some twists and turns, a cast of very colorful characters, some angst, a plethora of amazing and erotic sex and lastly a beautiful love story. Rita and Edward went through all kinds of kinky hell to get where they wanted to be….and I loved being on this journey with them! A great first read for me by K.D. Grace. Can not wait to get my hands on the next book in The Mount series, Fulfilling the Contract.” Violet Blue

 

Travelling with Pets!

airport-2I’m travelling for the next two weeks, so I’ve decided it’s time to give you lot a tasty sampling of travel writing. When I started thinking about it, I realized that travel figures prominently in a lot of my romance novels and in none more so than in The Pet Shop, which is set both sides of the pond. The thing about travel is that you spend a lot of time being in that space in between. Most of the time you do whatever you have to to keep busy and keep from getting bored. I guarantee my flight to Oregon won’t be anywhere nearly as exciting as Stella James’ flight to Oregon was. Enjoy!

 

Oh, and warning in advance! ADULT CONTENT!

 

The Pet Shop Blurb:

In appreciation for a job well done, STELLA JAMES’s boss sends her a Pet for the weekend – a human Pet. The mischievous TINO comes straight from THE PET SHOP complete with a collar, a leash, and an erection. Stella soon discovers that the pleasure of keeping Pets, especially this one, is extremely addicting.

Obsessed with Tino and with the reclusive philanthropist, VINCENT EVANSTON, who looks like Tino, but couldn’t be more different, Stella is drawn into the secret world of The Pet Shop. As her animal lust awakens, Stella must walk the thin line that separates the business of pleasure from the more dangerous business of the heart or suffer the consequences.

 

 The Pet Shop — Mile High and then Some! Excerpt:

 

Accompanied by a black-suited handler who carried the mauve and crème rucksack someone had selected for her, she thepetshoparrived at Heathrow, but not at departures. When the handler helped her out of her pet carrier, it was a smartly dressed male flight attendant who took her bag, and offered her his arm, leaving the handler looking on from the van. On board the attendant addressed her. ‘You are to relax and enjoy the flight, Ms James. I’ve been instructed that you have very bad laryngitis and can’t speak, so please feel free to write down any instructions you may have for me. I’ve left a pen and pad of paper in the seat pocket for you. Now buckle in. We’ll be underway in a few minute.’

She could barely manage the seat belt, she was trembling so badly. Her mind was vacillating between all the horrible things she could imagine might happen to her and memories of the last time she was put aboard a private jet.

‘Here, let me get that for you.’ Suddenly Vincent Evanston, well turned out in Armani, clean shaven, every hair in place, knelt in front of her, placed his large hands over hers and buckled the belt. And she collapsed in a puddle of shakes.

“Oh for heaven sake, Stellla, it’s all right. There, there, now. Calm down.’ He settled in next to her and slipped his arms around her. ‘It’s all right. What did you think, that they had sold you to the highest bidder to be added to some despot’s harem in outer bumfuck somewhere. It’s just me. That’s all, just me. I promise no harem, no outer bumfuck, and I’ll have you back in time for work on Monday.’ He shrugged and offered her a crooked smile. ‘More or less.’ He tut-tutted. ‘And I can only imagine how long this weekend is going to be for the mighty Stellla James, a whole forty-eight hours bursting at the seams with so many burning questions, and not being allowed to ask any of them, you poor thing.’

The laugh that forced its way up her throat sounded pathetically like a sob. She tried to shove him away playfully, but he caught her face and landed a kiss across her lips, with just the tiniest flick of tongue to make her catch her breath. ‘Don’t think I’m a softie, Stellla. That would be a mistake. I’ll happily punish you soundly for misbehaving. How else are you going to learn to be a proper Pet?’

The pilot announced departure and Vincent buckled in next to her. As soon as the plane was leveled at cruising altitude and the seat belt sign was switched off, he unbuckled himself and her, took her hand, and hurried her to the back of the plane, which was partitioned off with a built-in bed. He motioned to the bed. Once she was on it, he pushed her to the centered and practically tore her clothes off, with her using all the control she had not to help him. At last, when he had her naked and her clothes shoved onto the floor, she rose on her haunches to sniff and nuzzle him in the getting acquainted ritual, but Vincent rolled on top of her and pinned her spread-eagle beneath him. ‘You don’t need to get to know me, Stellla. You already have my scent, and I yours.’ Then he sat astraddle her and shoved and pushed his own clothes off until expensive Armani lay as casually discarded as cheap jersey.

But when he lowered himself onto her she bit him hard on the right pec just above his nipple.

‘Ouch! You little devil, you!’ He pinned her to the bed with his knees pressing almost painfully against her biceps and examined the bite. Then he offered a throaty chuckle. ‘Marking territory are we? Well at least you had the decency not to piss on me.’ His eyes sparked like fire. ‘Two can play at that game though.’ He dropped his full weight on her and lowered his mouth to her throat just where the boney press of the trachea gave way to the soft smooth flesh of the nape and he bit hard enough to cause her to yelp, hard enough to make her eyes water, before his lips took over the effort and he suckled and nibbled the soft flesh of her until she could feel the intensity of his pull clear down to her pussy. His fingers curled tight in her hair and held her, neck exposed. The other hand found its way to the nearest breast and airport-7raked at her nipple with a rough thumb.

The sounds coming from her throat were incoherent as he brought every nerve ending in her body to tingle and rage at his attention. He forced her legs apart with his knees and dropped to rake his demanding erection against the swell and splay of her cunt, and suddenly she was struggling with every ounce of her subdued strength to position her hips to get his cock where she needed it.
He didn’t deny her. A slight shift of his hips and a grunting thrust and he was in deep and hard not easing his efforts to give her time to adjust to his thickness. She responded by wrapping her legs around him and kicking like he was a bronco and she intended to break him.

He brought his arms down the side of his body and trapped her legs for damage control, then pulled away from her throat with another painful nip. ‘Now, everyone will know that you’re mine,’ he gasped. ‘You won’t even need a collar.’

Jesus, she couldn’t believe he’d marked her right on her neck where everyone could see like she was some horny chav. She had to work on Monday. It was too damned hot to wear a high necked blouse. But even as she thought about it, the idea of wearing his mark so that everyone could see, everyone could imagine how he had fucked her, how he had subdued her made her pussy clench and gush around his thrusting cock, and she made another futile attempt to kick him. He just held her closer and thrust harder. And it was enough. Suddenly the shaking all over her body had nothing to do with nerves as she bucked and convulsed her orgasm while he rode harder until the bed shook and he stiffened and jerked his load into her gripping cunt. Then he collapsed on top of her.

After he’d managed to catch his breath, he pulled out, leaving a warm trail of sticky come on the inside of her thigh. Then he cleaned himself and began to dress. He started to put on his tie, but thought better of it and tossed it on the nightstand. ‘I have work to do,’ he said. Then he bent and kissed her cheek. ‘But you have nothing to do but lie here all wet and sticky and smelling of our sex until I get back to you.’ He settled a wet kiss onto each of her nipples, then pulled the blanket up over her. ‘And I will get back to you before we land. I’m not nearly finished with the in-flight entertainment yet.’

She never slept on planes, and yet she did this time, deeply, peacefully. At some point in the timeless void that was airline travel, she woke to find him curled around her, naked, his hard penis nestled against her arse, one large airport-6hand curved against her pubis, middle finger stretched between her folds.

‘Tino?’ She spoke his name from the muzzy-minded state of half-sleep, and felt his sleepy whisper against the back of her neck.

‘Tino’s not here. Just Vincent, and if you speak again, I’ll have to spank your little bottom, won’t I?’ He pulled her closer.

They were already on the ground when he woke her again. He was fully dressed in jeans and a jumper looking amazingly no worse for the wear. ‘Come on woman. Let’s get you dressed and out to the Jeep. We still have a couple hours drive ahead of us.’

Reviews:

“I loved The Pet Shop. It was so well done that I could hardly wait to turn each page. Of course the sex was delicious, but the background story, the premise of The Pet Shop, and the magic between the various characters was much more than just delicious sex. Great job bringing me something completely different to read.” 5 out of 5 Manic Readers

*****

“The sex is smoking hot, the storyline intriguing, and the whole thing is so brilliantly written that you’ll emerge from the end gasping for breath. This book is a whirlwind of fun and naughtiness perfect for erotica fans.” – Lucy Felthouse, Erotic Author

*****

 

 

 

Coffee Time Romance“Full of decadent desire, sensual eroticism and hedonistic promises, Ms. Grace uses a wicked pen that enticed this reader into a world of pleasure unlike anything I have read before. The interaction between Stella and Tino is so scorching hot I practically left burn marks on the computer screen. To top it off, there are so many other erotic fantasies intertwined in this tale that this book must have hit upon everyone’s favorite desire. Whether it is male/male, male/female, male/female/male, female/male/female/female or BDSM this novel has it all. The Pet Shop is the cat’s meow!” 5 out of 5, Coffee Time Romance

 

 

A Collared Collection Shameless Selfie: Part 1

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Oh yes! You’re getting a double whammy Shameless Selfie Weekend this time because I’m shamelessly promoting two books at once — that’s right, I’m promoting The Collared Collection, which is a fabulous two-book box set of kinky Ks! Kay Jaybee’s fabulous novel, The Voyeur is cover to cover, cheek to cheek with my novel, The Pet Shop. Both of us agree that while these two novels are among our favourite erotic efforts, they don’t exactly fit in anywhere else, and yet, together side by side, the do quite nicely. This week, I’m very happy to share with you a delicious excerpt from Kay Jaybee’s The Voyeur. Here’s an excerpt from the very beginning of The Voyeur to whet your appetite… Enjoy!

 

The Collared Collection Blurb:

The Collared Collection is a two novel boxed set from the pens of multi-award winning erotica writers, K D Grace and Kay Jaybee.

In the Voyeur by Kay Jaybee, wealthy businessman and committed voyeur, Mark Parker, has a list of 13 fantasies he is intent on turning into reality. Travelling between his London flat, his plush Oxfordshire mansion, and Discreet, his favourite BDSM club; Mark is helped to realise his imaginatively dark erotic desires by two loyal members of his staff – his personal assistant, Anya Grant, and his housekeeper, Clara Hooper.

Upon the backs of his willing slaves, Mark has written out his fantasy list in thick red pen. Only Fantasy 12 awaits the tick of completion against their flesh before Mark’s ultimate fantasy, Fantasy 13, can take place. But have the girls performed well enough to succeed in the final challenge? And what hold does Bridge’s gentleman’s club, Anya’s previous employer and a place she was delighted to escape from, have over Mark?

In order to find out, the girls are going to have to face some of the fantasies they thought they had left behind them all over again.

In The Pet Shop by K D Grace, in appreciation for a job well done, Stella James’s boss sends her a pet, a human pet. The mischievous Tino comes straight from The Pet Shop complete with a collar, a leash, and an erection. Stella soon discovers the pleasure of keeping Pets, especially this one, it’s extremely addicting. Obsessed with Tino and with the reclusive philanthropist, Vincent Evanston, who looks like Tino, but couldn’t be more different, Stella is drawn into the secret world of The Pet Shop. As her animal lust awakens, Stella must walk the thin line that separates the business of pleasure from the more dangerous business of the heart or suffer the consequences.

 

 

Available from Amazon (universal link)http://mybook.to/collaredcollection

His evening meal complete, Mark sat back, contentedly sipping his cup of strong black coffee. Pulling a small, battered notebook from his pocket, he read thoughtfully for a moment. His self-restraint, although immense, was beginning to run out. It was time for them to progress to the end of the list. Pressing the intercom button, Mark summoned his personal assistant, Anya, and his housekeeper, Clara, to the dining room.

collared-bundle-copyThe women arrived swiftly, both aware of the importance of not keeping Mark waiting. Standing on the opposite side of the highly polished dining room table, his employees braced themselves for the coming instructions.

‘I have decided that we will take a trip to Discreet this evening. We will turn our attention to the next fantasy on my list. Fantasy 12.’ Mark’s cool blue eyes deliberately weighed up the reaction of his staff as he delivered his news.

Discreet was the reason that Mark spent such a large proportion of his time in his London flat, rather than in his mini-mansion in Oxfordshire, where his software business was based. It was only at Discreet, the most exclusive of the city’s BDSM clubs, that his increasingly imaginative fantasies could be publically appreciated; most of which involved the observation of other people’s erotic aspirations. Mark Parker was the ultimate voyeur.

Trying hard not to exchange glances with her colleague, Anya could sense the stiffening of Clara’s body as they listened to their boss. She knew that Clara’s mind, like her own, would already be racing; madly trying to guess what Mark’s latest erotic scenario would involve. Having survived fantasies one to eleven, they already understood the nature of the challenges they were likely to experience during the evening that loomed ominously ahead.

‘Anya, you will be less delighted than Clara, perhaps, when I tell you that this trip is intended as a lesson for you; possibly a punishment.’

Forgetting herself for a second, the PA lifted her head and stared Mark squarely in the face.

His lips smiled; his eyes, however, did not. ‘You wonder why? Why, when you are forever questioning my instructions?’

‘But Mark, I …’ Anya stopped talking, aware that by asking why she was simply proving his point. She could feel her nipples hardening beneath her white shirt, as her employer continued to stare at her.

‘Oh my dear Anya, you may never question me out loud.’ Mark’s voice was velvety soft, yet the potential danger of disagreeing with him shone in his eyes. ‘But I know that you constantly query my actions by your reaction to them. Subconscious or not, it has to stop.’

Anya couldn’t believe it; she had always been so dutiful. The perfect assistant. The willing slave. How could Mark know she privately questioned her existence; her choice at being here with him and Clara, living this less than “ordinary” existence?

Clara was hovering uncomfortably next to Anya as Mark came closer. ‘Tonight,’ he said, pulling off Anya’s shirt and bra, exposing her luscious chest to the cool of the room, ‘you will both face a combination of experiences that together make up Fantasy 12. Won’t it be lovely to be able to tick another task from our list, girls?’

They didn’t answer; experience had taught them that nine times out of ten his questions were rhetorical.

Mark twisted the women round; removing Clara’s top as he did so, so he could see both his employees’ bare backs. There, in neat script, a permanent pen had been used to write “Fantasy 1”, “Fantasy 2” and so on, all the way down – the numbers following the length of their spines, finishing with the words “Fantasy 13”. The first 11 rows of black lettering had bright red ticks next to them.

‘Only two more tasks to go.’

This time the girls risked a fleeting glance at each other, exchanging a look of mutual blood-hammering exhilaration twinned with an erotic anticipation it would have been hypocritical to deny.

Mark, during his brief periods of leisure, had painstakingly detailed many lust-driven scenarios he wished to both direct and bring to life. He often wrote notes, accompanied by intricate diagrams of erotic, slightly disturbing, but ultimately satisfying fantasies, in a leather-bound journal that only he was allowed to read.

Anya and Clara knew that the final fantasy, when it came, would be both more difficult and different to anything they’d ever previous experienced. They feared it. They also longed for it. Mark was a clever man, for as each new task unfolded he pushed his faithful staff along with him, darkening their desires and needs closer and closer to his own. Making them as keen as he was to see how far they could go. To see how much they could physically take as they accompanied Mark on his journey of extreme sexual sightseeing.

A cold, clammy sheen of perspiration broke out on Anya’s face, arms, and breasts as Mark danced a finger across her skin. ‘You will both go to your room and change into the clothes I’ve placed upon your beds. You will remain there until I call you.’ Mark pointed to the door, and his employees headed to their small, twin-bedded room without a sound.

As she considered some of the things she and Clara had been required to do over the last six months, Anya privately reassured herself that the trepidation shooting down her spine was understandable and acceptable. It was also irrational, for she knew that Fantasy 12 might not only be tolerable, but enjoyable; and that just because the end of the list was in sight, it didn’t mean the night ahead would involve anything worse than she’d survived before. She could handle this. They both could – no problem.

Then Anya saw her outfit.

Her bed supported nothing but a leather dog collar…

 

 
© 2017 K D Grace
The Romance Reviews

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