One Flesh by Annabeth Leong

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One FleshBlurb:

Leticia and Rosalie are planning their wedding, wanting very much to make their special day one to remember, but Rosalie has something else weighing on her mind, one more thing she wants to make as special and as memorable as the ceremony itself—their wedding night. Rosalie wants to be with Leticia in a way that neither of them had ever been with anyone else. But finding something that would be a first time for both of them turns out to be harder than expected.

As it turns out, there is one thing Leticia has wanted to do but has never trusted anyone enough to allow herself to overcome the fear of it. And it’s something that Rosalie has never done either.

The women discuss the idea of fisting as a means of connecting and forming an intimate bond with each other, one that they’ve never formed with anyone else. They’ve never loved or trusted anyone else they way the love and trust each other, and they are determined to find a way to make it work.

Excerpt:

“I’ll call tomorrow to tell the church how many flowers we want to order,” Leticia said, sighing and folding her notebook closed. No matter how many neat lists she made with her favorite purple pen, the sheer quantity of wedding-related details was overwhelming. “Can you call the caterer back, Rosalie? I still feel like they sneaked a charge in somewhere, but I can’t get a straight answer out of them about it.”

Her fiancée smiled indulgently. “Better yet. I’ll go in person on my lunch break, and they won’t know what hit them.”

“Great.” Leticia rubbed her temples and closed her eyes. She’d wanted to go to bed early, but another evening of wedding planning had made that completely impossible. She was excited to be marrying her one true love and all, but it was easy to lose track of that when she had fourteen phone calls to make and her mother demanded an e-mailed progress report every single night. “That’s got to be enough for now.”

Leticia stole a quick glance at Rosalie. She’d changed into a cute pair of pajamas when she got home from work, the childish pattern an odd contrast with her sophisticated coppery makeup. Leticia briefly fantasized about peeling the clothing away, revealing her lover’s curves and smooth brown skin. Unfortunately, at that very same moment, she had to stifle a yawn. She was so damn sleepy. They would need to get to bed immediately if she was going to give Rosalie proper attention.

“We can’t quit planning yet,” Rosalie said. “We haven’t discussed the most important thing, and it’s coming up soon.”

Leticia groaned. She flipped her notebook open again and paged through her color-coded, highlighted lists. “We’ve talked about everything I had listed for the day, and we even went over things that have deadlines coming up in the next few days. I don’t see what we’re—”

“The wedding night,” Rosalie purred. “We haven’t discussed that at all.”

There was no mistaking the sparkle in her eyes. Leticia actually blushed, the way she had at Rosalie’s makeup counter the first time they met, when the other woman’s soft words of praise, roughened by the obvious desire in her voice, had gotten Leticia so hot and flushed it had been impossible to identify the correct shade of foundation for her skin tone. She’d been forced to come back later, not that she’d minded.

Now that she’d figured out what Rosalie was hinting at, Leticia played innocent. For all her lover’s passion, her Catholic upbringing had left her with an adorable aversion to using direct language. Leticia loved to watch Rosalie get flustered while trying to explain her naughty desires. She batted her eyelashes and focused on her notes again. “We’ve reserved our hotel room the night of. We’ve got our plane tickets to Puerto Rico for the honeymoon a couple days after that. Everything appears to be in order.”

“The wedding night,” Rosalie said, apparently oblivious to Leticia’s teasing. She rolled her hands through the air, one over the other, the gesture an invitation to take the word “night” and run with it. “The whole reason I wanted an afternoon wedding was so we could have plenty of time together. Afterward. In the hotel.”

“You mean to take a good, long nap? I’m sure we’ll be tired after dealing with all the guests, and coming down from pre-wedding nerves, too.” Leticia couldn’t resist continuing the act.

“Not a nap. But I am talking about what we might do in bed.” Now Rosalie colored, a deep red undertone becoming visible beneath the screen of her makeup.

Leticia composed her face as much as she could manage and shrugged. “Oh, are you talking about sex?” A giggle threatened to slip through at Rosalie’s incredulous, exasperated expression. “I don’t know. I’ve read tons of articles about how people get so exhausted from all the things leading up to a wedding that they don’t even really want to have sex by the time the day is done. We’ll have plenty of time for that later in the honeymoon, won’t we?”

“Don’t even really want to have sex,” Rosalie repeated slowly, as if the phrase was a math problem and she couldn’t quite work it out. Her forehead wrinkled in utter puzzlement. A snort burst from Leticia. Realization dawned on Rosalie’s face. She grabbed a tissue from the box on the table and tossed it at her. They’d both collapsed in giggles by the time the thin paper floated airily to the floor beside Leticia.

Leticia allowed the force of her laughter to pull her off the chair. She crawled the short space to Rosalie’s chair and raised one brown foot to her lips. Leticia did enjoy a little foot worship now and then, but her current mood was far from reverent. Slowly, carefully, she slipped her mouth over Rosalie’s polished big toe. She licked until Rosalie’s breathing changed, confused between laughter and moaning. Then Leticia lifted off the toe and pressed her mouth to the sole of Rosalie’s foot. She inhaled, gripped the ankle tightly, and blew a powerful raspberry.

Rosalie squealed and tried to get away. Leticia smiled but kept up the wet, ticklish vibrations. Rosalie’s foot jerked in her hands. Leticia kept hold easily. She had plenty of practice restraining patients, which happened to have fun applications at home.

Rosalie writhed as she laughed. Leticia drew breath for another raspberry, but cut her eyes up as much as she dared. She didn’t want to miss the sight of her lover, breasts bouncing under her shirt as her rib cage shook, hips rolling as she struggled to get away, face squeezed tight as if to ward off the unbearable sensation of being tickled. Effectively, this previewed Rosalie’s orgasm. Warm arousal spread through Leticia’s body as she forced Rosalie to stay in this state, and as she looked forward to seeing the real thing very soon.

Rosalie rained playful blows onto Leticia’s head. “Why the hell am I marrying you?” It took forever for her to get the sentence out, as she had to gasp each word between shrieking laughs.

Leticia grinned and tugged at her lower legs. Her lover took the hint and rolled out of the chair to join her on the floor. Leticia wrapped her arms around Rosalie, who felt small and hot and curvy. She slipped one hand down to tickle between her ribs, rewarded by another delicious howl. Rosalie shoved at her chest. “You are evil, I swear.”

“I’m sorry,” Leticia said softly, managing to sound sincerely regretful. She kissed Rosalie’s temples with great tenderness, until her lover relaxed and stopped wriggling. Leticia murmured more soothing words, rubbing Rosalie’s back… then licked the side of her face.

Buy Links:
All Romance eBooks
Amazon US
Amazon UK
Barnes and Noble
Kobo
Storm Moon Press

 

Bio:

Annabeth Leong has written erotica of many flavors—dark, romantic, kinky, vanilla, straight, lesbian, bi, and menage. Her lesbian stories have appeared in the Lambda Literary Award-nominated Lesbian Cops, Circlet Press’s love-spell anthology Like Hearts Enchanted, Lovecraftian erotica book Whispers In Darkness, and others. When not writing erotica, she is frequently reading it. She has lived in six states in various parts of the United States, and traveled to most of the others. Annabeth believes passionately in freedom of speech, rights for people of all sexual orientations, and the need for compassionate religion. She loves shoes, stockings, cooking, and excellent bass lines.

Yolanda Shoshana Talks about the Use of Scent in Erotica

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I’m very excited to welcome Yolanda Shoshana to A Hopeful Romantic. Those of us with sensitive noses, who find scent a major part of our lives will especially appreciate Yolanda’s work. And what would erotica be without the use of that fabulously sexy sense of smell?

Yolanda Shoshona 2unnamedThanks so much for having me as a guest KD! Now let’s get down to the sexy stuff…

There is something that is exciting about the smell of sex in the air. I’m not talking about the funky smell of ass and feet but magickal smells of passion mixed with notes like musk, vanilla, chocolate or rosewood.

When scent-inspired words like musk or sandalwood are added as description during a scene it gives the reader a sensual experience that is unique to them. Everyone has a relationship with smell, which is why using smell in erotica can be a surefire turn on. Scent conjures up memories and emotions as well as thoughts. Even when a scent is simply mentioned, it starts to get people’s senses involved. Using the power of smell in erotica is also perfect when it comes to setting the tone. If the sex scenes are light and playful, the scents in the scene might be a powdery musk with touches of sweet smells. Whereas, S&M, kink, and darker sex scenes might suggest more earthy smells like ouds, opium, and patchouli.

For my magickal novelette series, The Courtesan Chronicles, I created a line of aphrodisiac perfumes based on the central characters in the book. All of the scents have deep notes known for their arousal factors. The book follows a coven of witches in New York City who bring back the art and magick of the courtesans so it was important for them all to have scents that scream triple X sexy but have elegance. For example, one of the witches in my novelette is named Bast, after the Egyptian goddess of the cats and keeper of the sacred courtesans. One of the notes in the perfume, Courtesan Bast, is jasmine which Cleopatra (the inventor of seduction) used as a scent to seduce her lovers. In my second book for the series, Magickal  Desires (due out in December 2013), besides perfume potions and magickal aromatherapy,  I am using aphrodisiac notes in the smell of food, especially chocolate. If you start to notice gourmand scents are becoming extremely popular due to the connection of food, smells, and sex. What smells turn you on?
Yolanda Shoshona imageunnamedExcept from Magickal Desires, book 2 of The Courtesan Chronicles

As Lola sauntered to the kitchen Kinky followed her, no way was that cat going to miss out on witches performing kitchen magick session. A few meows here and there got her the best snacks.
Opening up the steel refrigerator, Lola pulled out the grocery bags with excitement. The smell of cilantro immediately filled the air once it was released from the refrigerator. Her Latin roots gave her a love for the magickal attributes of cilantro which included love, health and healing. Lola loved to cook especially for the sake of conjuring more love in her life, in her mind she was like the main character, in the book, Like Water For Chocolate, but far less tragic.

Today she was going to whip up her famous magickal mole sauce. The ingredients in the sauce were filled with herbs and spices perfect for kitchen magick including cinnamon sticks, cumin, and Mexican chocolate. It was a recipe that had been handed down from her great grandmother who swore that the mole sauce was the way that she won her great grandfather’s heart. However,  Lola thought that the Santeria love spell said over the mole sauce was what really left her grandfather spellbound.

Buy Magickal Desires Here:

http://www.yolandashoshana.com/books.html

About Yolanda Shoshana:yolanda shoshona 1unnamed

Yolanda Shoshana is a Minister of Magick, Courtesan Curator, Clairvoyant, Witch, and Seduction Alchemist that helps women have amazing love, toe curling sex, and release their magick. For more about her work and magkical aromatherapy: http: www.yolandshsohana.com. Check out her new magickal novelette series, Coven of the Courtesan which is Charmed meets Sex and the City.

 

 

Tis the Season for Books!

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christmas-jingle-bells-thumb17244964Stocking stuffers and holiday treats come in all shapes and sizes this time of year, and if you’re anything like me, there are few things you’d rather find in your stocking than that nice new book you’ve been dying to read. Back in the days before eBooks, back before I married Raymond, I lived with my sister in Oregon for several years. We shared a house and, after not growing up together, finally had the chance to become great friends. For those of you who don’t know, my lovely sister is sixteen years older than I am and she married very young, so my early memories of her are memories of her treating me the same way she treated her own children.

During those few years in Oregon, my sister was just coming off of a nasty divorce and learning to play again. Her kids were grown and she was free for the first time in her life. Because we both had good jobs, we were extravagant and creative at Christmas. Her children lived a long way away and I was single, so we decorated the cat climbing post and used that for our Christmas tree. I had a crazy tuxedo cat named Zeke at the time, who was perfectly happy to sit on top of the carpeted platform above the mounds of gifts surrounded by baubles and tinsle. We skied on Christmas Eve, having the slopes of Mount Bachelor nearly to ourselves, then we went home that evening to unwrap the gifts while Zeke batted around the wrapping paper and hid in the boxes.

Actually, few of the gifts were much of a surprise. We both loved books. There were two book stores in Bend Oregon at the time and we never went there without browsing both.  So as Christmas drew nearer, we both dropped hints about the books we’d really like to read, and then be both sneeked around and found ways to buy those books and keep it secret.

Another family photo updateWhen all the prezzies were unwrapped, we’d sit among the carnage caressing and admiring our respective stacks of new books, trying to decide which to read  first while Zeke once again slept on his perch atop the Christmas Cat Tree. Books have never stopped being a treasure in either of our lives, and I married a man who loves books at least as much as I do. In fact, we sometimes choose a book we both want to read and read it outloud to each other. We did this often in our early days of marriage. Now there’s less time, but we still talk about what we’re reading, and books are still one of the main topics of discussion in our house.

And now those books come to my sister, my husband and me as downloads. Our bookshelves are still full and overflowing and we still love the feel of a real book, but now we collect whole libraries on our kindles. Now we can carry those libraries with us wherever we go. Any book lover who has ever taken a long plane flight knows that the most important part of packing is always deciding which books to take along. Of course that’s still the most important part of packing, but now we don’t have to decide. Now we can take them all!

BTR FINAL IMAGEHoliday Special on Body Temperature and Rising: Vol I Lakeland Heatwave Paranormal Trilogy

This holiday season, Body Temperature and Rising is a great way to stuff that eReader stocking with exotic, erotic paranormal fun. I’m very pleased to share the witches of the Elemental Coven as a special holiday treat — 35 pence in the UK and 57 cents in the US on Amazon.

May your pile of books, whether print or eBook, be high and deep this holiday season, and may you frequently find yourselves lost in th pages of a good story!  Below is a sizzling excerpt from Body Temperature and Rising to help you get lost.

Buy Links:

Amazon.com

Amazon.co.uk

Body Temperature and Rising Blurb:

American transplant to the Lake District, MARIE WARREN, didn’t know she could unleash demons and enflesh ghosts until a voyeuristic encounter on the fells ends in sex with the charming ghost, ANDERSON, and night visits from a demon. To help her cope with her embarrassing and dangerous new abilities, Anderson brings her to the ELEMENTALS, a coven of witches who practice rare sex magic that temporarily allows needy ghosts access to the pleasures of the flesh.

DEACON, the demon Marie has unleashed, holds an ancient grudge against TARA STONE, coven high priestess, and will stop at nothing to destroy all she holds dear. Marie and her landlord, the reluctant young farmer, TIM MERIWETHER, are at the top of his list. Marie and Tim must learn to wield coven magic and the numinous power of their lust to stop Deacon’s bloody rampage before the coven is torn apart and more innocent people die.

Body Temperature and Rising Excerpt:

Warning: This excerpt is NOT rated PG

Marie woke burning up. She clawed off the duvet and sat bolt upright as the memories came flooding back and terror clenched her stomach into a tight knot. It was only then that she realized she wasn’t at home. She was sitting naked in the middle of a very large four-poster bed, and Anderson was sitting next to her.

‘Everything is alright now, my darling.’ He placed a cool hand on her cheek, then her forehead. You are safe at Elemental Cottage.’ He didn’t wait for her to ask. ‘Tim Meriwether is also safe and resting under the watchful care of Fiori. He asked to return to Lacewing Farm. As is the case with most of my sex, he is very protective of his territory. Tara and Sky have taken Serina Ravenmoor to a safe place.’

Riding the Ether cover image Final - Copy - CopyOther than the pale moonlight coming in the window, the room was dark. As the events of the night came rushing in on her like a fast moving current, she fought down nausea, then closed her eyes until her insides righted themselves again and she was certain she wouldn’t be sick.

‘I need a shower,’ she forced herself to sound calm. ‘I’m sweaty, and… I feel really dirty.’

‘A cleansing ritual of some fashion after what you have been through, my dear, is not only recommend, it is essential. But are you sure you are recovered enough?’

It was only when she stood by the bathroom door and saw the shower looming in front of her like a gaping mouth that she balked as memories of the last shower she had attempted flooded back to her. Anderson, who was standing next to her with a reassuring hand on her arm, brushed the damp hair away from her ear. ‘I will stay with you if you wish it.’

‘Thank you,’ her voice was breathy and thin, like it too might belong to a ghost. Perhaps she was a ghost. Perhaps Deacon had killed her too and she just hadn’t realized it yet.

With his comforting form fully visible through the clear safety glass of the shower door, she took her time, scrubbed herself hard, and let the tears slide silently down her cheeks as she did so. How was she ever going to survive what she now faced? And even worse, how would Tim survive when it was clear Deacon planned to use them each to the detriment of the other. And worst of all, what she only fully realized as the feel of the water pressure stimulated her skin to a rosy pink hue, the urges and desires that Deacon had kindled in her were still there, and in spite of herself, she couldn’t help wondering what it would have felt like if she had given in, if she had let him pleasure her to release.

She cranked the water to cold and stood in the sluice of it until her teeth were chattering, and still it was as though a million tiny pin pricks were alive just beneath the surface of her skin, as though he were still reminding every single pore in her body how desperately she needed to come.

She was shivering uncontrollably when Anderson opened the shower door and shut off the water, ignoring the splash on his pristine white shirt. ‘It is enough, my love. I cannot allow you to catch your death.’ He bundled her into a huge blue towel and began to dry her goose fleshed skin vigorously. He tisk-tisked. ‘My dear, even when I first take the flesh, I am warmer than you are now. This will never do.’

She tried not to writhe beneath his touch, but the misery of her need was overwhelming. Her lip trembled and in spite of her best effort her eyes misted. ‘I wanted him, Anderson. Dear god, how could I want him?’

Elemental Fire cover image finalHe lifted her open palms and placed a kiss on each where her nails had pierced her hands. ‘You have no idea what you have done, do you, my sweet Marie? Of course you wanted him. That is his magic, to make himself the most desired of men, to make his victims feel in their bodies hunger and lust for him like they have never imagined. Even Fiori, who is a powerful witch, not to be trifled with, gave in, my darling. But you did not. You banished him twice and remained free.’

‘Then why do I feel this way if I’m so special? I feel like I’m on fire, I feel like I’ll explode if I don’t…’ She blushed hard. ‘If I don’t get some relief. And that it’s because of him makes me feel disgusted, and still I want.’

‘Shshsh!’ Anderson stopped her words with a light kiss. ‘He is gone, my love. What you feel is now yours to feel, to use, to transform into your strength. My darling Marie,’ he wiped a single tear from her cheek and lifted her chin so that she met his dark gaze. ‘There are many elements, many facets to sex magic. And what Deacon has afflicted you with, he cannot take from you. It is now yours. And what is now yours, you may freely give to me, you may allow me to ease your need, as you did earlier when the situation was much more desperate. In doing so, we may, together, transform it to pleasure and even to something more powerful still.’ He kissed her palms again. ‘If you will permit me.’

‘Permit you? I would beg, Anderson, if it were necessary.’

He brushed his lips across her ear. ‘My love, it would never in a hundred lifetimes be necessary for you to beg love from me.’

She lifted her arms around his neck. ‘Then please, Anderson. I need you now. I need you to help me.’

He took her mouth deeply, tongue plundering, teeth nipping, lips insisting. Then with a sigh that tasted darkly honeyed, he lifted her in his arms and carried her to the bedroom, where the bed had been mysteriously, perhaps magically, made up with fresh linen. There, he pulled back the duvet, kissing and coaxing her down onto the soft mattress.

His body was shades of silver and shadow in the moonlight, teasing her eyes with glimpses of the hard plain of his belly and the tight half domes of his buttocks. As he shrugged out of his clothes, the shape of him still remained vague and mysterious but exquisitely solid, substantial as he moved onto the bed next to her, his anxious cock leading the way. He dropped a wet, suckling kiss on each of her heavy nipples, causing her to arch her back and grind her ass against the clean sheets.

‘I think we must first give you some much-needed relief.’ He brushed a thumb solicitously against her bulging clitoris, and she whimpered and shifted her hips against his touch ‘The seat of your pleasure is ripe with your desire,’ he said ‘And I have such a fondness for ripe fruit.’ Still stroking the swell of her with his thumb, he slipped two fingers between her pouting labia and the catch of his breath mirrored hers as he gently probed and withdrew and probed again until he found her g-spot and she soaked his hand and nearly bucked off the bed.

He released a deep sigh. ‘You are as wet as the fells in heavy dew, and the feel of you makes my own need almost more than I can contain.

‘Please,’ she moaned. ‘Please.’

He lifted her on top of him, and she could feel his thick erection pressing against the inside of her thigh as he carefully positioned her, stroking her pussy lips, then parting them. She felt the press of the head of his penis against her pout, then his hands on her hips guided her downward onto him and she cried out with exquisite pleasure at the feel of him pushing into her grudging hole, then yielding, then pushing again until the fullness of his erection was completely engulfed in her slippery tightness, and suddenly her thoughts were totally and completely on Anderson and what he was doing with his substantial cock. Then he began to thrust, shifting his hips in such a way that with each thrust he raked against the swell of her clit, sending shock waves of pleasure up through her body as she thrust back.

‘I think we shall not linger long this first time,’ he gasped between barely parted lips. ‘Your need is too great, and mine is little less so. Once we have achieve some measure of relief, there will be all the time we need for pleasuring, and I think we shall need a lot.’  She thought he might be right.

A.M. Hartnett Asks the Burning Question: Why Write Erotica?

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It’s my pleasure to welcome A.M. Hartnett to A Hopeful Romantic to ask that burning question, why write erotica? And to talk about her novella, Here for a Good Time.

It always give me a chuckle when I see writing blogs tackling the big erotica debate. Not how to write erotica or how to write great sex scenes, but simply whether or not to write erotica at all. Depending on the blog’s audience, it either devolves into an orgy of clutching pearls or high-brow snobbery about those books. Of course, the arrival of The Book That Shall Not Be Named and its sisters has given birth to countless (and, in my opinion, pointless) articles about why women are reading these types of books and why women are writing them.

AM HarnetIf you were to ask me point blank why I write erotica, I’d be completely stumped. Why erotica specifically? I dunno. Somewhere along the way I just gravitated towards the smuttier side of things. Any genre I attempted ended up with explicit sex. Coming of age drama set in the 1920s? Threesome. Small town horror? Ghost sex. Cat and mouse game between a crime boss and a retired policewoman? Yeeeep, rough sex in the attic.

When I finished university and decided to dabble in writing, I discovered the market for erotica. After that, there was never any question as to what I was going to write. So needless to say when I started selling stories in 2006 and found out I was actually good at it, it was a bit of a relief, because it was pretty clear I couldn’t write anything else without filthy sex.

That’s not to say all the rules of storytelling go out the window when things get wet and dirty on paper. You still need to know how to write balanced scenes, even if the end result is an orgasm. You still need believable dialogue. You still need to set the mood. In other words, don’t believe the articles that tell you that you can make a quick buck writing erotica — you still need to know how to write and tell a story.

I tried explaining this to Arts Guy. AG is an online date I once had. We had similar backgrounds — degrees in English and love of books that spawned the need to write. He had seemed thrilled when he discovered I was a published writer, then snorted when he found out what I wrote. AG could come down on my smut all he wanted, but at the end of the day I could walk into my local bookstore and find a book that had my name in it, while he could go home and moan about how the university press wouldn’t recognize him as the next Robertson Davies and publish his angst-ridden shorts all because what he thought storytelling should be.

I may not be able to tell you why I write erotica, but I’m glad that’s the pins and needles path that sprang up in front of me. It’s fun, I’m good at it, and I like to think I don’t waste a reader’s time when they finish something I’ve written. My latest release is Here For A Good Time from Xcite Books. I love the chemistry between my characters Alexis and Chris, and I had a ball writing about the things they got up to when no one was looking. If I decided way back when that I was too good to write erotica, I would have missed out on a lot.

Here for a Good Time Blurb

When Alexis booked her work retreat at The Deveaux, the most she had to look forward to was a bit of spa time on the company dime, but flashy salesman Chris Kendrick has an even better suggestion. For years they’ve had a hot and cold working relationship with a bit of flirting mixed in, and now is the perfect time to get that spark out of their systems.

Three days hopping in and out of beds (and other convenient places) shows Alexis that Kendrick’s smooth demeanour is more than just talk, and that aromatherapy and soft-tissue massages have nothing on Kendrick’s firm hand.

Here for a Good Time Excerpt

‘Excited?’ he asked softly. His tie whisked out of his collar with a low hiss.

‘Unbelievably.’

‘Give me your hands.’

Once more she did as he asked, and nothing in her life to that point had turned her on more than watching him bind her wrists with his tie.

He studied her as he tightened the knot, his brow crooked. ‘You ever been done like this?’

‘A time or two,’ she admitted in a puff of air. Three times to be exact, but she couldn’t recall being this hot the last time she put herself at the mercy of a lover.

‘Colour me surprised.’ He made a loop at the end, and then guided her arms up and hooked her.

‘After the way I pounded you this morning, I figured you liked a bit of rough stuff.’

Standing so close, his every movement made his clothes rustle against her, teasing her nipples into hard peaks while he unzipped himself. The moment she looked down, he caught her under the chin.

‘Eyes forward.’

The tip of his cock, slick with precome, brushed her belly. Alexis itched to get her hands on him, to wrap her lips around that thickness and suck him until he gave her something to swallow, but she’d allowed herself to be putty in his hands and there was nothing to do but relent.

It was easy to do. She could practically feel the hum of energy in her blood as he ran his hands all over her body. His gaze never left hers. It was as though he was daring her to give him a reason to rebuke her.

Buy Here for a Good Time here:

Amazon.com

Amazon.co.uk

Find A.M. Hartnett Here

Web: www.amhartnett.com 

Twitter: www.twitter.com/amhartnett

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/annemarie.hartnett

About A.M. Hartnett

A.M. Hartnett began writing in 2006 and has published more than thirty short stories. Her work has appeared in more than a dozen anthologies, including Cleis Press’s Sudden Sex: 69 Sultry Short Stories (Ed. Alison Tyler), and The Big Book of Orgasm: 69 Sexy Stories (Ed. Rachel Kramer Bussel). She has also written three novellas and a novel as Annemarie Hartnett. For more information on her publications, please visit www.amhartnett.com 

 

Her Secret Ingredient – M/F/M BDSM Erotic Romance from Lisabet Sarai

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Available 15 November from Totally Bound: https://www.totallybound.com/her-secret-ingredient

Buy from Totally Bound and get a sizzling extra chapter, available only to TB VIP readers!

Her Secret IngredientHer Secret Ingredient by Lisabet Sarai

Blurb

Stir in a pinch to stir up his passion

When the Tastes of France food channel offers Mei Lee “Emily” Wong a series of guest spots, she jumps at the opportunity to take her culinary career to a whole new level. Ultimately, she wants a show of her own, but first she has to prove herself to Michelin-starred network founder and effective dictator, Etienne Duvalier. A legend in the world of classic French cuisine as well as a domineering perfectionist, Etienne is sceptical about the culinary abilities of a woman from Hong Kong. To make things more difficult, the master chef is also so gorgeous that Emily can’t help being attracted to him.

Emily tries to solve both problems by spiking her luscious profiteroles with an ancient Oriental aphrodisiac. Unfortunately, Harry Sanborne, the low-key, bespectacled producer for Emily’s show, samples the delicacies she intends for Etienne’s consumption. His powerful reaction to her secret ingredient comes as a pleasant surprise to them both. Harry turns out to be far more impressive in bed than on the set. However, he can’t do nearly as much to advance her ambitions as Etienne. Emily tries once more to tempt the exacting M. Duvalier with her special cooking as well as her feminine charms. The outrageous results threaten to end her TV career forever – until Harry steps in to save her reputation and claim her heart.

 

X-Rated Excerpt

“Even our Monsieur le Chef can be swayed by great food. The desserts – oh, I’ve just got to try one of these…”

“No! Harry…”

Before I could stop him, though, he’d nipped a cream puff off the pile and popped it into his mouth. His eyes went wide as he chewed and swallowed.

“Unbelievable! Give me another…”

“Please, no…!” I grabbed at his arm, but it was too late. He’d already devoured a second choux.  “Those are supposed to be for Etienne…”

“Come on, you’ve made at least two dozen. He won’t miss one or two.”  Harry made as if to reach for a third puff. I hung on, trying to restrain him, but he was far stronger than I. Under that dorky clothing, I felt his muscles tense and shift.

He halted, his fingers inches away from its target, as if suddenly aware of my touch.  Turning away from the tower of pastries, he gazed down at me. Behind his glasses, his mocha-coloured eyes gleamed with powerful purpose.

“Harry?” My stomach did a somersault. My cheeks felt as though they’d just come out of the oven. Meanwhile he held me in that fierce, all-consuming stare.

My right hand still gripped his left arm, near the shoulder. He reached out to rest his on my shoulder, as if we were about to dance. “You know, I actually see something a lot sweeter right here.” He slid his palm down my back and pulled me to his chest with a decisiveness that sent my pulse into overdrive. When he leaned in close, I smelled the almonds on his breath.

“Harry…I don’t think…”

“Shh!” He enforced this directive by fastening his mouth on mine in an energetic kiss.

He tasted, unsurprisingly, of sugar and cream. His firm lips moulded to mine while his tongue teased at the seam, coaxing me to open. I shouldn’t have given in, but I honestly couldn’t help it. He might look like a bit of nerd, but this guy really knew what he was doing. Wet, but not sloppy – forceful, but not brutal – alternating between deep penetration and playful flickering – he kissed with consummate sensuality. All I wanted was to swoon in his arms, to let him take me over.  He seemed eager to oblige.

The hand on my back wandered down to cup my ass and pull my pelvis against his. I gasped at the size and rigidity of the lump pressed against my pubis. My nipples snapped into aching knots and moisture flooded my already damp panties. He laced the fingers of his other hand through my hair, using them to control the position of my head as he drank his fill of me.

His mouth slipped away from mine to nuzzle below my ear, somehow finding the precise spot that’s directly connected to my clit.  Meanwhile he groped my breasts, squeezing hard – harder than I usually like, but now I actually wanted more.

Apparently he did, too. He tugged at my blouse, trying to pull it out from the waistband of my skirt, and finally succeeding. The first graze of his fingertips along my naked skin sent a wave of arousal crashing through me.

“Wait – no – aah…oh…” My protests faltered as he deftly extricated one of my breasts and caught the nipple between his thumb and forefinger. He tugged on the taut node of flesh, twisted it, flicked it back and forth. I swear I felt him doing the same to my clit. At the same time, he caught my earlobe between his teeth, worrying it like a pup with a toy.

Oh God! He was all over me, fondling and caressing whatever flesh he could access through my dishevelled clothing – and it was glorious! Crumpling my skirt to the waist, he worked his clever fingers under the elastic of my panties to stroke my soaked fur. I jerked against his palm, wanting him to explore more deeply. He appeared happy to oblige, pushing into my channel with his fingers while strumming my clit with his thumb. I wormed  my way into his loose trousers and clung to his cotton-covered ass, feeling his gluts flex as he ground his astonishing hardness against my belly.

I’d never doubt my grandmother again.

 

Lisabet SaraiAbout Lisabet

Lisabet Sarai became addicted to words at an early age. She began reading when she was four. She wrote her first story at five years old and her first poem at seven. Since then, she has written plays, tutorials, scholarly articles, marketing brochures, software specifications, self-help books, press releases, a five-hundred page dissertation, and lots of erotica and erotic romance – nearly fifty single author titles, plus dozens of short stories in various erotic anthologies, including the Lambda winner Where the Girls Are and the IPPIE Best Erotic Book of 2011, Carnal Machines. Her gay scifi erotic romance Quarantine won a Rainbow Awards 2012 Honorable Mention.

Lisabet has more degrees than anyone would ever need, from prestigious educational institutions who would no doubt be deeply embarrassed by her chosen genre.  She has traveled widely and currently lives in Southeast Asia with her indulgent husband and two exceptional felines, where she pursues an alternative career that is completely unrelated to her creative writing.

For more information about Lisabet and her writing, visit her website (http://www.lisabetsarai.com) or her blog Beyond Romance (http://lisabetsarai.blogspot.com)