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Out Now – Something Different by Nia Farrell #erotica #menage #mfm #bdsm

SOMETHING DIFFERENT coverSOMETHING DIFFERENT (The Three Graces Book Two) is a standalone MFM ménage BDSM rock star erotic romance by Nia Farrell.  Only $2.99 for a potty mouthed gamer girl and triple platinum indie artists who are about to rock her world.

 

REVIEWERS:

“Sexy and sultry”  “Fun and hot…This ménage à trois, featuring two sexy rock star brothers and a talented musician, will leave you breathless and wanting for more.” “Nia Farrell did not disappoint. Although Something Different is a heavier BDSM read than its predecessor, it was well written and flowed well. I cannot wait for more in this series.”

 

BLURB:

Singer/songwriter Anna James is getting desperate.  Even with a day job, money’s tight, and she’s wound tighter yet, having sworn off sex to reconcile with her mother who’s in chemo and her father who disowned her for her wild, wicked ways.  No sooner than her psychic best friend predicts an end to Anna’s self-imposed drought, rock stars Jackson and Jacob Thomason come to town, with the dream of an indie album co-written with local American Indian flutist Nico White and his songwriting partner, Anna’s alter ego AJ McPherson.  From the first, it’s clear that the triple-platinum indie rock stars want more than her music, but does Anna dare submit to the part-Comanche twin brothers who perform as No Mercy?

 

Buy links to Something Different:

Amazon US | Amazon UK | Barnes and Noble | Allromance | BookStrand | Smashwords | Dark Hollows Press | Goodreads

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The Three Graces Series by Nia Farrell

SOMETHING ELSE August 25, 2015

SOMETHING DIFFERENT September 29, 2015

SOMETHING MORE October 15, 2015

from Dark Hollows Press

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Excerpt:

They’re staring now, trying to reconcile reality with my stage name and with how I look in the cheesy publicity photo I use, shot four years ago when I turned eighteen and my mother wanted the whole glamour thing captured for posterity. She’s never forgiven me for refusing to let them tease and torture my hair. In the shot, I’m looking over my shoulder like I’m caught in a fucking daydream, while my thick, straight hair drapes my back like a black silk curtain.

I wear my hair shorter now, streaked with red and purple. Those splashes of color and my asymmetrical cut keep it well this side of boring.

My eyes, on the other hand, are the same. Unlike my hair, they wouldn’t improve with the enhancement of colored contacts. They’re purple. Fucking Liz Taylor purple–one of those anomalies of nature that my mother can’t explain. Hell, I’ve caught my dad looking at me sideways, like I might be the spawn of an incubus, ‘cause there’s no way that I belong to the Chinese-born mail man. I guess my wild ways haven’t given him any peace of mind, either. Shit, when I met Grace, she didn’t screw, didn’t swear. Now she goes to bed with two strapping men every night and has a mouth that could make a biker blush. As far as I’m concerned, my corruption of her is complete.

Right now, she’s staying blessedly silent. The Thomason twins are, too.

When the intensity of their stares shifts from kind of rude to downright disconcerting, I’m tempted to stick out my tongue and tease them with the surgical steel ball I’ve sported since I turned twenty-one last year. Right now Jacob’s looking at the diamond stud adorning my left nostril, and Jackson’s staring at my C-cup breasts, his own nostrils flaring as my responsive nipples tighten to hardened nubs.

Enough of this shit.

“Guys.” I drop my voice to a husky whisper that could earn six figures at a 900 number. “I might use an outdated picture to throw people off, but my eyes–they’re fucking purple, for Christ’s sake.”

Yep, the eyes have it. Recognizing them, both men sit straighter and exchange a look that makes excitement thrum in my veins. They’re here to see Nico, but why? I remind myself to breathe, tell myself to slow down before my imagination runs too wild. They wouldn’t be the first major artists wanting to lay tracks with the American Indian artist and his native flutes.

“So…AJ–Anna James.” Jackson says it likes he’s tasting my name, tasting me.

I swear my pussy’s gushing. Okay, so they might not have come looking for me, but they know my work. They’re big fish in my small pond, and their recognition means everything to someone like me.

“Yes, but please, guys, call me Anna. Jax. Jake.”

Recognizing them as individuals, and not just as No Mercy, earns me a brownie point. I rack up more for not going all fangirl on them.

“You work with Nico White. Motherfucker.” Jackson eyes his brother, then turns back to Grace. “Nico’s expecting us at eight. I suppose we’ll see you both then?”

Eight? Shit. That’s–

“You’ll see more of Anna,” Grace tells them. “I make myself scarce on music writing night. The energy’s too intense for me.”

I’ve suspected as much, but the lake where she lives with her lovers is really conducive to creativity. So, rather than meet at the apartment I rent above a vintage storefront on Main Street or somewhere else, Nico and I have our songwriting sessions at their house. Grace, bless her, doesn’t complain, since it means she gets to have some alone-time with J.T., the half-Puerto Rican member of their threesome.

While Grace starts a review of local businesses that would make a Chamber of Commerce proud, I’m thinking of tonight. I might be working with these two men, writing for them. Fuck, maybe we’ll be writing with them. The possibility makes me wet. I know how Nico and I work. Our collaborations are so natural, so organic. We’re comfortable with each other.

These two make me anything but.

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Author Nia FarrellAUTHOR BIO:

Nia Farrell has been writing for pleasure since junior high. Now that she writes about pleasure, she can share the fantasy worlds she visits and introduce readers to characters who remain with her long after their tales are told.

When crafting a story, Nia draws upon a rich diversity of life experiences, which include singer/songwriter, prize winning needle artist, private pilot, Reiki Master/Teacher, crystal healer, psychic fair reader, jewelry maker, physician’s assistant, factory worker, waitress, genealogist, period reenactor, and children’s author. If this life isn’t enough, there are plenty of others to choose from. Otherwise, she devotes hours of research to subjects outside her realm, determined that her stories ring true.

Nia lives on a farm in Southern Illinois (far, far from Chicago, in the heart of “Little Egypt”). A seventh generation Illinoisan, she is descended from Mayflower Pilgrims, American soldiers from the Revolutionary War to World War II, and Scottish nobility. She enjoys playing in the past and visits Ren fairs and historical reenactments in period attire, sharing her love of history and her passion for music. While her husband and two grown daughters may only read her nonfiction work, she appreciates their support in pursuing her dreams, one of which is being published in erotic romance.

Nia Farrell’s Facebook page https://www.facebook.com/?q=#/pages/Author-Nia-Farrell/1678898589004941?ref=bookmarks

Nia Farrell’s Tumblr page http://authorniafarrell.tumblr.com/

Nia Farrell’s Twitter page https://twitter.com/AuthrNiaFarrell

Nia Farrell’s Amazon page http://www.amazon.com/Nia-Farrell/e/B014HAAWLK/ref=sr_tc_2_0?qid=1441506277&sr=1-2-ent

Nia Farrell’s Author page at Dark Hollows Press http://www.darkhollowspress.com/#!nia-farrell/c1mop

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WORDS! A Complete Story by F. Leonora Solomon

Oooh! I feel all Muse-y today, and in a very delicious way. I am very honoured to have the fabulously Bernini Hades and Persephone close uptumblr_lg4h59T3z31qe2nvuo1_500talented and naturally naughty F. Leonora Solomon with me today sharing a wonderful story that has its roots in one of those shared writerly conversations that inspires. This one happened this year at Eroticon. It’s SO true, we can’t do it alone, and from hat sharing comes amazing things. And F. Leonora, you can rub me like a genie any time! Thank you SO much for sharing you story with us! 

*****

So I think KD Grace is brilliant, I have had the pleasure of meeting her at all three Eroticons that I attended, and she is BRILLIANT. We were walking out of a session at the last con, and I was basically rubbing her like a genie (semi-figuratively), for inspiration because I was feeling stuck. Somehow the idea for this story came about organically, and she invited me to be a guest on her blog. It took me a little bit…but now I have this to share with her—and you…

 

Writers cannot do it on their own, we need to be inspired. I am grateful that so many of my writer friends inspire me. Thank you KD! xxx

 

Words
by F. Leonora Solomon

IMG_0333He was not the love of her life by any means. They had only gone out a couple of times—in some cases he just filled the space just so that she would not be alone. After a few drinks—they did not even have dinner—she wanted more than his conversation.

Lying on her side now, the night after, she could still feel the scruff of his stubble all over her body. She liked the chafed feeling of where his mouth had been on her. His mouth was the ultimate turn-on for her. Not so much the feeling of it, but what he said.

You like it rough don’t you, you like it raw right?

The timbre of his voice had moved right along her labia. She pressed her legs together, and then parted them.

You felt that right between your legs, didn’t you? You’re already wet, aren’t you?

Kitt nodded in memory against her pillow, its soft cotton for a moment fooled her into feeling like his stubble. She caressed the divide between her breasts, in her loose-fitting nightgown. Without any effort, her breasts slipped out of it.

She caressed their softness, and her hypersensitivity made her feel more aroused that she should have. She was in bed alone, but thinking about having him in her bed the night before…thinking about what they had done, how he touched her was sexier than having done it with him.

You’re so wet, can you hear how wet you are? You are making so much noise, because you are so wet. You’re a squirter aren’t you?

Kitt had panted so heavily, moving with him at that point. She had wanted to answer him that she had never squirted, but her words were unintelligible.

She did not squirt, but she did come. Not one of her best orgasms, but she did come with him.

Oh next time, I am going to make you squirt. I am going to make you flood this bed…

Writing pen and birds 1_xl_20156020She now stopped caressing her breasts. Her nightgown was up over her hips, and both of her hands were between her legs.

You like that don’t you, you like that so much you filthy girl. You like it better when I say it, and tell you how filthy you are too. I know you do…

Kitt was tangled in her sheets after, hair in her mouth and her clenched fists damp with her own come. Between her legs tremored with the memory of things that he had said into the nape of her neck the night before.

Untangling herself from her sheets, she went to the bathroom. A stream of pleasure moved through her body, as she sat on the toilet. Kitt’s eyes were damp with post-orgasm tears, but her breathing had slowed.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her phone flash. She should not have kept it near her bed, but she knew who it was.

america-artist-art-paintings-prints-note-cards-by-howard-chandler-christy-nude-women-reading-approximate-original-size-18x16Can I come…over?

She nodded at his words, even before she typed her reply.

Yes you can come over me…

Kitt giggled meaning that typo, knowing he knew it.

You can come over to* me, I meant…

She was sure he would have a lot of words for her…when he came…

 

everything about F. Leonora Solomon is at:

https://fdotleonora.wordpress.com

 

 

The Supernatural Erotic Bucket List by C M Fontana

tourbutton_sexualsorceryI’ll admit it, I have a bucket list of erotic scenes that I want to tackle. But this isn’t the usual list of “things that are so great, I simply must…” – it isn’t a six hottest, ten raunchiest, or twenty most popular, kind of a list. In fact, it’s the opposite. It’s a list of ideas and clichés that have been done to death, or are just commonplace that they require extra thought to breathe some freshness into them.

My challenge is to find ways to tackle them in a way that’s fresh, interesting.

For example, take the whole cliché of the ritual sex on an altar between a sorcerer and his partner or assistant. It’s dark, dangerous, transgressive, it blurs boundaries between private and public… and less analytically, a lot of people just find the idea, instinctively, really hot. But it’s also too common an idea to be interesting. Dubious occult ritual starts and turns into sex scene: that’s far too obvious to make an interesting story. Whether or not it’s sexy, and whether or not there are logical reasons why people find it hot, I’m just not going there without a new take on it – something that makes the scene unexpected as well as raunchy, that works with the characters involved, and also drives the story forward.

Sexual SorcerySome of these well-used ideas I’ve already reworked – such as the frustrated ghost of a jilted bride trope. Others I can’t imagine doing any time soon, but I’d like to tackle them eventually (lesbian vampires leap to mind – yes, they’re obviously sexy, but no, I can’t imagine at the moment how I’d avoid cliché with that one).

This is not, however, just some sort of creative vanity. The advantage of this approach is that it forces me to find equally interesting story-lines and characters. Erotica is about context – filth is fun, but it only really shines as erotica when the characters and situations are as exciting as the sex.

Sexual Sorcery (sample chapter here http://mysticerotica.com/sexual-sorcery/ – discretion advised, explicit sexual content) provides an example of this.

Sexual Sorcery follows a hapless academic as he searches for a set of stolen books and stumbles into the occult underworld of Victorian London. The situation has plenty of nods to familiar ideas – an apparently respectable but actually sinister gentleman’s club, a manor house out in the wilds lorded over by a charismatic master, the innocent young woman who unexpectedly and dramatically finds that she has voracious sexual appetites… these are all fine parts of a Victorian gothic erotic story. But the trope I’ve ticked off the bucket list is playing with a much older idea.

From the sixteenth to eighteenth centuries, witch hunting manuals claimed that when covens of witches met they would have sex with the devil. It’s a lurid, inelegant idea that today might strike us as ridiculous, but it’s an established part of Western folklore and it works erotically for the same reason that the ritual sex idea does – it’s transgressive, dangerous. The trick then was to take this idea and play with it in a way that kept the sexiness, but lost the rather pantomime crassness, and which worked with the characters in the story.

Not wanting to explain the details (spoilers!), but as the idea developed it became one of the main strands of the plot in Sexual Sorcery.

So, what shall I tick off the list next?

I don’t know, and I can’t know. This can’t be forced. The witch-cult satanic sex idea wasn’t originally intended to be part of Sexual Sorcery. But as the story developed it just seemed a natural fit. Much better to start with a series of possibilities and see which develops its own sense of compelling mystery and sexiness, than to start with an arbitrary idea and cram it into a novel.

But at the moment I’m writing the sequel to Sexual Sorcery. The premise is that, high in the Alps in a remote castle, the Count has invited seven young women for seven nights… you’ve heard that idea before? Of course you have – or something very similar. But the challenge for me is to make sure that, even if you’ve heard the initial idea before, you’ve never read anything like the final novel.

– –

Details and excerpts of the books mentioned above can be found at Mystic Erotica: http://mysticerotica.com/erotic-stories/

Sexual Sorcery is available for Kindle: http://mybook.to/sexualsorcery

*****

GIVEAWAY!

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Make sure to follow the whole tour—the more posts you visit throughout, the more chances you’ll get to enter the giveaway. The tour dates are here: http://www.writermarketing.co.uk/prpromotion/blog-tours/currently-on-tour/c-m-fontana/

a Rafflecopter giveaway

 

New Release – Girls Will Be Girls by Lucy Felthouse (@cw1985) #lesfic #lesbian #erotica #ku #kindleunlimited

Girls Will Be GirlsBlurb:

Six sexy Sapphic tales from the pen of popular lesbian erotica author, Lucy Felthouse.

Christmas cheer with colleagues, a driving disaster turned good, hot older women, girls in uniform, gorgeous gardeners and naughty fun in a changing cubicle… this collection contains a variety of erotic tales sure to tickle your fancy.

Available to buy exclusively from Amazon, and to read as part of the Kindle Unlimited programme: http://mybook.to/girlswillbegirls (universal Amazon link)

Add to your Goodreads shelves: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/26218151-girls-will-be-girls

*****

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Excerpt:

She was now mere inches away, but the thickness of the bushes meant she could still only see the boots and now a bit more of the green trousers. Stepping onto the mud, she crouched down beside the feet, carefully pushing the foliage aside so she could see what the hell was going on, and figure out what she was going to do about it.

The view opened up, and Verity, far from seeing a helpless person lying on the soil, was presented with a green-clad arse reversing hurriedly in her direction!

“Hey!” she said, letting go of the branches and shifting back so abruptly she ended up on her own arse on the grass. “Be careful! Are you all right?”

As the body continued emerging, Verity slowly came to realise her mistake. Dirt-covered trousers, a filthy black waterproof coat, gloved hands, and a head topped with a floppy hat were soon visible. Slim white cables trailing from each ear and disappearing into the collar of the coat explained why she hadn’t been heard calling out, or received a response.

This woman hadn’t hurt herself. She was a fucking gardener!

Frozen in her uncomfortable position, Verity wanted the ground to open up and swallow her. Perhaps as revenge for her landing on it so hard. But she had no such luck. Instead, she heard, “What on earth are you doing down there? Are you all right?”

Struck dumb, Verity nodded and took the now glove-free hand that was offered to her, allowing the other woman to pull her up off the grass. “I—I’m fine,” she finally forced out, breaking the brief eye contact and making a show of brushing herself down, though it was probably only her bottom that was dirty. Her cheeks blazed, and she took a step back, hoping to beat a hasty retreat.

“Well, I’m glad. But it still doesn’t explain what you were doing down there.” The ear buds now hung down the woman’s front, and she was apparently poised, awaiting a reply.

Verity shook her head. “I don’t think you’d believe me if I told you.”

Narrowing her eyes, the gardener said, “Try me.”

Christ. Just to add insult to injury, it seemed she was now suspected of some kind of wrongdoing, too! “I—I was over there,” she pointed to where she’d come from, “and I saw your wellies poking out from the bushes. I panicked because I thought someone had fallen and hurt themselves. I came over to try and help. I did call out to you, to see if you were all right. But all I could see was the boots and a little bit of your trousers. I had no idea what was going on. Much less that you were the bloody gardener and remained oblivious to what I was up to because you had headphones in! I crouched down and pushed the bushes aside so I could see you better, and the next thing I know you’re shuffling back towards me. I shifted out of the way and ended up tumbling over on my bum.”

It seemed her story was too amusing to be anything but true, because the gardener grinned widely, then clapped a hand over her mouth momentarily. “I’m so sorry,” she then said, “I didn’t hear you, honestly. But I guess I can see why you thought that. Thank you so much for coming to check on me, but it really wasn’t necessary. All I was doing was fighting with a particularly vicious weed.” She pointed down to an uprooted plant at her feet, then widened her eyes. “Are you all right? You didn’t hurt yourself, did you?”

Twisting to try and look at her bottom, Verity brushed again at the seat of her jeans. “Yes, I’m fine, thank you. Just a bit of muck and grass stains, I think. Nothing that won’t come out in the washing machine.”

“Oh, good. I’m glad. I feel bad enough as it is without thinking you’ve hurt yourself or ruined your clothes, too.”

“No, I’m good. And I’m glad you’re okay, too.”

Silence hung between them for a few moments. Then Verity took another step back. “Right, well, I’d better get going, anyway. Nice to meet you.” She turned to go, but the other woman’s voice stopped her in her tracks.

“Hey, wait. No need to rush off. I’m just about to go on my tea break. Want to join me? Perhaps a brew will make up for it?” Her green eyes—apt, for a gardener, Verity thought—sparkled with humour and intelligence, and for the first time, Verity realised that, underneath the grubby gardening gear and large hat was a very attractive woman.

Still, an excuse was on the tip of her tongue—she had come here to be alone, after all—but fate intervened. Or the British weather did, anyway. A handful of fat raindrops fell onto her, followed by a few more. Then, the heavens truly opened.

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*****

Author Bio:

Lucy Felthouse is a very busy woman! She writes erotica and erotic romance in a variety of subgenres and pairings, and has over 100 publications to her name, with many more in the pipeline. These include several editions of Best Bondage Erotica, Best Women’s Erotica 2013 and Best Erotic Romance 2014. Another string to her bow is editing, and she has edited and co-edited a number of anthologies, and also edits for a small publishing house. She owns Erotica For All, is book editor for Cliterati, and is one eighth of The Brit Babes. Find out more at http://www.lucyfelthouse.co.uk. Join her on Facebook and Twitter, and subscribe to her newsletter at: http://eepurl.com/gMQb9

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Join The Club – Club Aegis Series by Christie Adams @ChristieAdams #clubaegis #britromance

Series Blurb: Club Aegis

Aegis – the shield of Zeus, and by extension, a means of protection. The men and women who are members of Club Aegis have all played their part in protecting their country. They work hard…and they play hard. Their lives are not always easy – and sometimes they have to put their lives on the line, not just for their country but for those they love.

Purchase Links

The Velvet Ribbon (Club Aegis 1)

Amazon US: http://amzn.to/1Jy3VHg

Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/1h2aYRG

Love Is Danger (Club Aegis 2)

Amazon US: http://amzn.to/1RaW6xC

Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/1iEheQS

A Wanting Heart (Club Aegis 2.5)

Amazon US: http://amzn.to/1Fvpz43

Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/1Jy47q1

 

The Velvet RibbonBlurb: The Velvet Ribbon (Club Aegis 1)

Alex Lombard is a Dom with a dark past. The former SAS officer, now a successful businessman, carries the scars of his past both on his body and in PTSD-induced nightmares resulting from more than just his service to his country. The light in his life takes the form of his assistant, Beth Harrison, the woman whom he has secretly coveted since she came to work for him.

Beth has been attracted to her employer from the day she met him. When not at work, she fills her time with writing stories featuring the BDSM lifestyle she craves but has not yet found the courage to explore. Though she knows nothing of his extra-curricular interests, Alex is the inspiration for the Dom in her latest novel.

Then Alex makes a chance discovery, and when Beth becomes the victim of a street crime, the two of them come together to find what is missing from both their lives. However, their path to happiness is beset not just by the teething troubles of a new relationship—a ghost from Alex’s past has returned, bent on revenge, and Alex is not the only one in his sights…

NOTE: This work was previously published. It has been retitled, expanded and re-edited for this release.

 

Love Is DangerBlurb: Love Is Danger (Club Aegis 2)

Having only just dumped her lecherous two-timing boyfriend, Stacie Matheson never expected, when her car broke down in a storm, to be rescued by a tall, blond-haired, blue-eyed knight in a shining Jaguar. Cam is everything her ex was not—and more besides.

Now that his old friend Alex has settled into married life with his submissive, Beth, Cameron Fraser is ready to surrender his single status. What he isn’t ready for is being blindsided by a beautiful curvy damsel-in-distress.

Fate has brought them together – the Dom who needs a submissive, and the woman who takes her first steps into the world of submission at his side. However, there’s more to Cam’s life than the sensual games he plays with Stacie. When that life intrudes on their relationship, neither is prepared for the devastating consequences.

 

A Wanting HeartBlurb: A Wanting Heart (Club Aegis 2.5)

What happens when a former Royal Navy officer is given a second chance with the woman he loves?

Ryan Quinn is still in love with the woman he lost three years ago. For him, there can be no other. When he sees Fiona again at her sister’s wedding, he has no choice but to risk his heart for a second time, by reminding her of what they once shared.

How wrong can a woman be?

Tragic and complicated family circumstances had left Fiona Pearce with no option but to turn her back on the man she loved and drive him out of her life. When his path crosses hers again, she feels compelled to apologise, even though she fears she may be opening old wounds that are best left undisturbed.

Events take an unexpected turn, giving Ryan the opportunity to suggest that they go away together for a few days. To his surprise, Fiona agrees. In the remote cottage their love is rekindled, but it takes a blizzard to erase the past and allow them to start finding out who they really are – together.

NOTE: This is a previously published work. The title, author, and/or publisher may have changed.

 

Author Bio

When she isn’t actually writing, Christie is often thinking about writing – either the book she’s currently working on, or one of the dozen other stories she’ll have percolating away at the back of her mind.

In addition to writing, she also loves lazing around with a good book, or browsing the internet in search of cute pictures of dogs and puppies, a pastime that often helps with writer’s block – or so she claims. She likes James Bond movies, and cries at the end of “You’ve Got Mail” every time.

Good chocolate is also one of her passions in life, often accompanied by a glass of her favourite tipple, English sparkling wine. And if she can be persuaded to abandon her writing for a while, she finds that chocolate, wine and a good movie on TV is an excellent way to pass a dark winter’s evening.

Social Media

Twitter                                            https://twitter.com/ChristieAdams

Facebook                                        https://www.facebook.com/christie.adams.author

Website                                           http://christieadamsauthor.com/

 

Excerpt: The Velvet Ribbon (Club Aegis 1)

The sound of heels on hardwood provided the metronomic fanfare that alerted Alex to the imminent arrival of Beth Harrison—his executive assistant, right-hand woman and, of late, source of growing frustration. He looked up from the correspondence in his hand, eyes narrowing at her approaching reflection in the tinted window that gave him a panoramic view over London.

Those damn fuck-me shoes! A muscle tensed in his tightly clenched jaw. While her working wardrobe went from black to white, with every shade of grey between, her footwear was downright rebellious—immaculate heels, never less than four inches in height, in a myriad selection of styles and eye-catching colours.

Which ones today? It was a question that crossed Alex’s mind every morning. He’d never considered himself to have any kind of shoe fetish until Beth came to work for him. Every morning it was the same, and the litany of colours was ever-expanding. As for today—would it be the peacock blue? Or the metallic purple, perhaps? He was rather fond of the latter.

No, today it was a new pair…new to the office, at any rate. The vivid red patent leather heels, with an ankle strap adorned with an eye-catching bow, were incredibly flattering to her slender feet and shapely ankles…and those gorgeous legs clad in sheer black nylon with seams straighter than an arrow. Oh, the fantasies he’d had about having those legs wrapped around his hips while he sank his cock into her lush body, felt her contract hard around him, heard her panting cries as he spilled inside her at the moment of her climax…

His eyes continued upward, taking in the flannel-grey pencil skirt—the fabric clinging to her curves, so fitted that it gave her hips an ultra-feminine sway as she walked. He experienced a sharp, momentary twinge of disappointment; for the lines to be that smooth, there was no way she was wearing stockings. He tried to curb his disappointment that beneath the skirt, there would be no tantalising exposure of creamy skin at the top of her thighs.

She wore the crisp, brilliant white cotton blouse with the top buttons undone, hinting at a delicious cleavage, the long sleeves fastened at her delicate wrists with mock cufflinks. French-manicured nails tipped elegant fingers that clasped a notebook and pen.

And then there was her face: heart-shaped, lightly made-up, alluring green eyes behind unremarkable spectacles, all crowned by upswept, luxuriant, brown hair threaded with gold, and not one strand out of place. In the three years that she’d been his assistant, he’d never seen her anything less than cool, calm and utterly professional.

What he’d give to see her come apart under the force of the orgasms he could give her.

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© 2017 K D Grace
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