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Grand Slam by Lily Harlem and Lucy Felthouse is Just 99c/p! (@lily_harlem @cw1985) #sale #99c

To celebrate the Australian Open, the eBook version of BDSM sports romance novel Grand Slam is just 99c/p until the 29th January!

Blurb:

A Raw Talent book.

California had seduced me with promises of a new life working at Los Carlos Tennis Academy. What I didn’t expect was the dark, brooding number one seed, Travis Connolly, resisting my help. He wasn’t interested in my psychology skills. Instead his attention was drawn to the edgy, sharper corners of my desires, proving that they existed, setting me challenges and driving me crazy to the point of combustion.

I’m the best tennis player in the world—officially—so why would I need a damn woman full of psychobabble to get me on form? Despite my irritation, however, I can’t resist pushing Marie Sherratt’s buttons even though doing that shows her the darkest shades of my lust, the parts of me I buried deep. So I set her a challenge, one she rises to, one that has me rising too, and before long my game relies on her calling the shots, hitting the target and bending to my will. One thing was certain, being not just master of the court, but also of Marie is seriously good for my soul.

Buy links:

Amazon (universal link): http://mybook.to/grandslam

Barnes & Noble: http://bit.ly/2j61A4x

iBooks: http://apple.co/2997niA

Kobo: http://bit.ly/2juZxUK

Smashwords: http://bit.ly/29bspyg

Remember, the offer ends on the 29th January, so grab yours quick, and be sure to tell all your friends!

Find more sports romances by Lily Harlem and Lucy Felthouse at http://www.rawtalentseries.co.uk

 

Sale blitz hosted by Writer Marketing Services.

 

Kinky M/M Erotic Romance Novella by Lucy Felthouse, Doctor’s Orders, Out Now! (@cw1985) #mm #kink #bdsm

Blurb:

Hospital porter Aaron Miller isn’t expecting a very exciting birthday. He and his doctor boyfriend, Blake Colville, are working opposite shifts, leaving Aaron to go home to an empty house and the prospect of another shift the following day. Just as he’s leaving work, however, an unexpected sexy encounter in a supply cupboard leaves him feeling in a much more celebratory mood. And an impending dirty weekend away with Blake just puts the icing on the non-existent cake. But who needs cake when you’re dating a dominant doctor?

Note: Doctor’s Orders has been previously released as part of the Brit Boys: With Toys boxed set.

Buy links:

Amazon (universal link): http://mybook.to/doctorsorders

All Romance eBooks: http://bit.ly/2h1nfXa

Barnes & Noble: http://bit.ly/2hH8kFl

iBooks: http://apple.co/2hc3lgM

Kobo: http://bit.ly/2hT1zye

Smashwords: http://bit.ly/2h1lKIo

Add to Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/33278227-doctor-s-orders

*****

Excerpt:

Aaron hummed contentedly as he walked along the white-painted corridor towards the locker room. He was happy in his job as a hospital porter. He might not be saving lives, like his doctor boyfriend, Blake, but he liked to think he was improving them. He made the effort with the patients he transported around—or the ones that were well enough to hold a conversation with him, anyway. He chatted to them, showed an interest, tried to make them laugh, always remained positive, even when things were bleak. That was his way of spreading a little cheer, or helping someone forget their worries, even if it was only for a few minutes. It was a small contribution, but a contribution nonetheless, and it made him feel good.

The corridor stretched on, and Aaron thought for the umpteenth time that it could do with some artwork on the walls—something other than doors to break up the interminable expanse of white paint and grey dado rail. But patients never came to this area of the building—unless they were lost—so there was no need to spend any more money on it than was absolutely necessary. Aaron understood that, but boy did it make for a dull walk to the locker room.

As he continued his journey, he saw that a supply cupboard door on the left hand side of the corridor was ajar. It was nothing unusual—people often propped doors open with their feet if they were just leaning in to grab something, or used something as a door stop if they needed both hands to carry what they’d come to collect and therefore couldn’t open the door again to let themselves out.

Reaching the door, he’d just opened his mouth to call out and ask whoever it was if they needed help, when the gap grew wider. A white-clad arm appeared and the accompanying hand grabbed the front of his T-shirt, pulling him roughly into the cupboard.

“Wha—”

Aaron didn’t even get chance to finish his exclamation, as he’d been slammed against the now-closed cupboard door, and hard, demanding lips were pressed to his. Lips, he realised, as his brain caught up with the turn of events, that belonged to Doctor Blake Colville. Lips that were allowed to kiss his, thank God!

The fresh, spicy scent of Blake’s cologne invaded Aaron’s nostrils, and he relaxed into the kiss, returned it with enthusiasm. Blake’s tongue sought entrance to Aaron’s mouth, and he gave it willingly, moaning as their tongues slipped and tangled together sensuously, and Blake’s firm, lithe body pinned his slightly-more-muscular one against the cool wood of the door. He stifled any further moans that wanted to sneak out, remembering that, hot as the situation was, it was also pretty precarious, and both of them could get into serious trouble if they were caught. Patients may not frequent this area of the building, but the staff sure did.

Reaching out, he gripped the lapels of Blake’s white coat and pulled, so their bodies were crushed together and their kiss grew bruisingly brutal—in a good way.

The move had clearly fanned the flames of Blake’s lust, because he began grinding his crotch against Aaron’s, teasing their already erect cocks and pushing them both rapidly towards the point of no return.

But could there be a point of no return, given where they were? How on earth would they get away with making love—or, in this case, should it be fucking?–in a supply cupboard in the hospital? Granted, it was one of the quieter areas of the building, but bloody hell…

*****

Author Bio:

Lucy Felthouse is the award-winning author of erotic romance novels Stately Pleasures (named in the top 5 of Cliterati.co.uk’s 100 Modern Erotic Classics That You’ve Never Heard Of, and an Amazon bestseller), Eyes Wide Open (winner of the Love Romances Café’s Best Ménage Book 2015 award, and an Amazon bestseller) and The Persecution of the Wolves. Including novels, short stories and novellas, she has over 150 publications to her name. She owns Erotica For All, and is one eighth of The Brit Babes. Find out more about her writing at http://lucyfelthouse.co.uk, or on Twitter or Facebook. Sign up for automatic updates on Amazon or BookBub. You can also subscribe to her monthly newsletter at: http://eepurl.com/gMQb9

Release blitz hosted by Writer Marketing Services.

 

Shameless Selfie Just Got Kinky with A Bird in the Bush

 

After a break for the holidays it’s time for another Shameless Selfie and, while this photo isn’t actually a selfie, it does fit the story, and it’s perfect that it was Kay Jaybee taking the piccie at Sh! Women’s Store, since this selfie is from my story, A Bird in the Bush, from the fabulous Brit Babe collection, Sexy Just Got Kinky. This morning, I’m sharing a little feather kink. Enjoy!

 

Sexy Just Got Kinky Blurb:

Welcome to Sexy Just Got Kinky, the third instalment of the Brit Babes’ Sexy Just series. Tantalise your dark side with kinks to make you think. From lovers behind bars to lone ladies behind the lens—fisticuffs and feathers, lilos and lube, scissors and sticks, whips, canes and bondage, there’s sure to be a kink within these pages to whet your appetite, tickle your fancies and heat up cold nights.

 

A Bird in the Bush Excerpt:

Cockerel, rooster, male chicken – whatever the hell you wanted to call him, he was enormous! Think Big Bird of the barnyard, and you get the picture. Oh my God! I wanted to bury my face in those gorgeous scarlet and emerald tail feathers while he wriggled his arse and cock-a-doodle-dooed at the top of his lungs.

Okay, let me just clarify before you get the idea that I do obscene things to animals. This was not a real cock … not the barnyard kind. I did say think Big Bird, didn’t I? This was a man strutting around Stoke Park in a fucking chicken costume! And it was a bloody brilliant one – no cheap-arsed papier-mâché, not this cock, no siree! Even from a distance – and it wasn’t much of a distance because I nearly ran into him on the sidewalk in front of the duck pond – I could tell those luscious plumes were genuine ostrich. Even the very thought had my nipples drilling through my vest.

The ginormous rooster stepped back all chivalrous-like and gave me a well-executed bow. Before I could ask what a big cock was doing parading around the duck pond in Stoke Park, he reached into a leather bag that hung over one broad avian shoulder and pulled out a lollipop, which he unwrapped. And then the cheeky cock stuck it in my mouth brushing the tip of my nose with the soft golden feathers that covered his hands. My dirty mind went crazy. I’ll admit I might have even moaned out loud and rolled my eyes. I mean it was a cherry lollipop, for godsake! The end resembled the tip of a penis all bright and hard like it was anticipating some serious in and out, and the giant rooster just sticks it right in my mouth! It’s bad enough that I moaned, but then … I slurped. Loudly. I didn’t mean to, honestly I didn’t. It’s just that I was already salivating and having something hard stuffed into my mouth when I was fantasising about a tumble behind the shrubbery with those thick, silky feathers wrapped around me, how could I not slurp? Of course I couldn’t see his eyes inside the chicken head. I couldn’t tell if he was checking out my happy nips, and I sure as hell couldn’t tell if he had a hard-on when his entire body was well decked in plumage. I couldn’t even hear if he was breathing hard because before I could manage to cheek the sweetie and politely thank him, the yummy mummies descended in a flock of excited kiddos, all grabbing and reaching – the kiddos, not the mummies. Without missing a beat, my gloriously well-plumed cock offered me a flyer from his bag and then began handing out lollipops to the kiddos and flyers to the parents. I was left to slurp and watch him shake his tail feathers and flap his winged arms for his young audience. At least they thought he was doing it for them. But I knew he was doing it just for me and my perky buds, and I stood there slurping and watching shamelessly. As he bok-bok -boked and cock-a-doodle-dooed and strutted and pranced and, as his jaunty plumage shimmied and shook, I got wetter and wetter, and I found myself in need of some serious me time.

I’m an avid birder, it’s true! I’ve happily spent days in wet muddy woodlands and in stuffy hot hides to catch a glimpse of birds in action. I don’t care if they’re common blue tits or something rare and exotic just blown in from Africa on a storm. My reasons for watching are a bit different from my fellow birdwatchers and, since there’s no way to put this delicately, I’ll just come right out and say it – I consider watching birds foreplay. I don’t care if they’re fucking or singing or just loafing. It doesn’t matter. They turn me on, and the reason is because they all have feathers. It’s the feathers that heat me up to a sizzle. When I see a blackbird preening, fluttering and flicking its wings and running its beak through its glorious blue-black plumage, or a starling flitting about in a birdbath, chittering and flapping and dazzling, like a sequin-clad can-can dancer in Vegas, well it’s spontaneous orgasms for me! Feathers will get me there every time.

I recognize most British birds by sight, sound and feather, as well as a good few from other countries, so I know my birds well enough to know that as amazing as they are, they had to give up a few anatomical bits to be able to fly. No teeth, hollow bones and, the bad news – no cocks. The good news is that the no cock thing isn’t true of all birds. Did you know that some male ducks have enormous corkscrew penises? But in spite of the dearth male members among avian male members, I was quite confident that my Barnyard Big Bird was very well equipped.

On the verge of an orgasm, I watched mesmerized as the glorious rooster danced and pranced, and then turned and headed out across the formal gardens at a trot that was way more graceful than one might expect from a man in a chicken suit. When I could see him no longer, still slurping on my lollipop, I glanced down at the flyer. It read:

Gallinaceous: Chicken to Tickle Your Taste buds!

Have a quickie in our food court or enjoy chicken of the world in our fine restaurant at your leisure.

There was an address on Epson Road just up from the row of estate agents and across from the Turkish grocery store. A chicken restaurant? Seriously? My raucous rooster was strutting his stuff to advertise a chicken restaurant? Fast chicken even, and with a KFC just around the corner. That was seriously plucky. Of course KFC couldn’t boast fine dining now could they? And they sure as hell couldn’t boast a giant prancing rooster. I read the rest of the flyer.

Gallinaceous: sophisticated chicken at an affordable price

Taste the chicken of your dreams.

Would that I could, I thought to myself. Would that I could. I tucked the flyer into my bag for later. Right now, I was in a hurry to get home and take care of some far more urgent business.

As soon as that glorious big cock was out of sight, I quickly pulled the lollipop out of my mouth and tucked it in a candy wrapper that had migrated to the bottom of my bag at some point, and then I hurried home. I barely had the door shut behind me before I was stripping. I suppose it was my version of a molt, leaving a trail of clothes from the door, all the way down the hall and into my room, the butter and seashore scent of my heat getting stronger as I went.

 

Buy Sexy Just Got Kinky Here:

eBook:

Amazon UK

Amazon US

Amazon AU

Amazon CA

Amazon DE

Barnes & Noble

iBooks UK

iBooks US

Kobo

Smashwords

 

Print:

Amazon UK

Amazon US

Amazon CA

Barnes & Noble

Createspace

The Book Depository

 

Out Now—Hot #lesfic Window Dressing by Lucy Felthouse (@cw1985)

Blurb:

Can Jessie work with a woman with the looks of a pixie and the personality of a dragon to complete the most important task of her career?

Shop-fitter Jessie is sent to London’s Oxford Street to work on a flagship store’s front window overnight. It’s the first time she’s completed such an important task by herself, but the plans and organisation are solid—it’s just a case of getting it turned around before the store re-opens the following morning. What she’s not betting on, however, is the woman in charge of the project—Edith. She has the looks of a pixie but the personality of a dragon, and it soon becomes clear to Jessie that the job isn’t going to be plain sailing, not with Edith being awkward and putting Jessie down at every turn. As the hours drag on, Jessie somehow manages to peer beneath Edith’s frosty exterior, and much to her surprise, she kind of likes what she finds. But will she abandon her principles—and potentially risk her job—for a one-off thing?

Buy links:

Amazon (universal link): http://viewbook.at/windowdressing

All Romance eBooks: http://bit.ly/2hMsUof

Barnes & Noble: http://bit.ly/2gTdtWK

iBooks: http://apple.co/2hLXgoi

Kobo: http://bit.ly/2hMBcfN

Pride Publishing: http://bit.ly/2h3xT4B

*****

Excerpt:

With a sigh of relief, I followed the satnav’s instructions and indicated right, swinging the van into the side road off of London’s Oxford Street.

“You have reached your destination,” remarked the posh voice coming from the machine.

“Thank fuck for that,” I shot back, removing the device from the windscreen and wiping at the tell-tale ring it left behind on the glass with my sleeve, hoping to remove any temptation for potential thieves. No doubt they swarmed around this area, tourist Mecca as it was. I didn’t want them to catch me out.

I stowed away the satnav, switched off the van’s ignition, and grabbed all my stuff. Hopping out onto the road, I locked the van and pocketed the keys. Then, wiping my damp palms on my black work trousers, I approached the rear door of the shop where I was to work.

Come on, get a grip, Jessie! You may be new at this, but you know what you’re doing. You’ve got this.

I wasn’t totally insane to be nervous. I’d been working for the shop-fitting company for just over a year now, and it was great. I really enjoyed the work, the variety. But this was the first time I’d been sent out on a job by myself. It hadn’t been intentional, either—the job was last minute, and the client had made it worth my employer’s while. Normally there’d been a team of two coming here, but there was another big job, one that needed the more experienced fitters on board. Therefore I’d been pulled off that task, in order to do this one. Alone.

Adding more worry was the warning one of my colleagues had given me on finding out where I was being sent. “You watch out for that Edith woman, Jessie. She may look like a pixie, but she’s actually more of a dragon. She frightens the bloody life out of me.”

The warning ringing in my ears, I took a deep breath and pressed the doorbell. I could do this. I could. I’d made it all the way from Leeds to London, navigating busy motorways and the complete insanity that was England’s capital city, venturing right into the heart—the craziest of the crazy. Fortunately, by the time I’d hit the West End, the traffic wasn’t too bad, given that the shops were closing and rush hour had been and gone. There were still morons galore, naturally—honking taxi drivers, swerving, lane-hopping cyclists, oblivious rickshaw drivers, suicidal pedestrians—but I’d kept my cool throughout, telling myself I was so close to the end of my journey that I could almost touch it. Taste it.

And here I was, at the back entrance of the flagship store of the world-famous fashion chain, ready to change over its window display in time for when the shop reopened in the morning. I glanced at my watch, relaxed a little. It was ten p.m. Eleven whole hours until opening time. No problem, not even for a relative newbie like me.

The door opened a crack and a sliver of a dark face peered out at me. “Yes?”

“Oh, hi. I’m Jessie—from the shop-fitters? Here to work on your window display?”

The woman—the voice had given it away, as she was still peering through the crack between the door and its frame—eyed me up. The black trousers, black T-shirt, black fleece—the latter two bearing the name of the company I worked for, clearly weren’t enough. Turning her attention to the van behind me—emblazoned with the company name in huge letters—she now seemed convinced.

“All right,” she said, opening the door wider and stepping back to let me through. “Come on in.”

“Thanks…”

“I’m Jacqueline. Edith’s already in the window. She’s the one in charge.”

I nodded. “Okay—lead the way.” I followed Jacqueline through the dimly lit storeroom. I’d known instantly she wasn’t Edith, because she looked nothing like a pixie. More like a goddess. She had a curly black afro, curves you could lose yourself in for days, and a wiggle that would have turned me instantly if I wasn’t already into women.

Blinking as we emerged into the blazing lights of the shop floor, I continued in Jacqueline’s wake, adjusting my ponytail and fixing a smile on my face as we grew closer to the window…and Edith. She was the big cheese—when it came to the window design and execution, anyway—so I needed to make a good impression. Hopefully she’d give good feedback to my boss, and I’d get more projects like this in future. Maybe even a raise—a girl could dream, right?

“Hi,” I said as we came within a couple of paces of my soon-to-be workspace. “I’m Jessie. Pleased to meet you.”

After a brief pause, the pixie took the hand I was holding out and shook it. Firm, confident, but brief. She was no-nonsense, this woman. But I’d known that already.

*****

Author Bio:

Lucy Felthouse is the award-winning author of erotic romance novels Stately Pleasures (named in the top 5 of Cliterati.co.uk’s 100 Modern Erotic Classics That You’ve Never Heard Of, and an Amazon bestseller), Eyes Wide Open (winner of the Love Romances Café’s Best Ménage Book 2015 award, and an Amazon bestseller) and The Persecution of the Wolves. Including novels, short stories and novellas, she has over 150 publications to her name. She owns Erotica For All, and is one eighth of The Brit Babes. Find out more about her writing at http://lucyfelthouse.co.uk, or on Twitter or Facebook. Sign up for automatic updates on Amazon or BookBub. You can also subscribe to her monthly newsletter at: http://eepurl.com/gMQb9

Release blitz hosted by Writer Marketing Services.

 

An X-Rated Visit with Lily Harlem!

 

It’s not just the mulled wine and mice pies that have me heated around the edges today, but it’s the fact I’m sharing them with my dear friend and fantastic writer, sister Brit Babe, Lily Harlem, who’s popped in to talk about her sizzling new novella, X-Rated! Welcome, Lily! Have another pie and do tell!

 

***

 

Hi Kd, thank you for inviting me to your blog at this festive time of year. It’s always fun to pull up a chair, enjoy a glass of mulled wine and a mince pie with you.

 

I’ve brought with me my hot new novella, X-RATED, which is sure to heat up the coldest of winter nights. I really enjoyed writing this story, it’s about a married couple who have lost their way in the bedroom. So many stories are written about new couples who have just met and are getting down and dirty for the first time, so given the chance to work with characters who already have an established relationship offers a whole different set of dynamics. Because when love and trust is already established, when each partner knows they will be supported not judged when confessing a kink or desire, the only limits are imagination.

 

I hope you’ll check out my story and perhaps it will give you sexy ideas for some festive fun with that special person in your life.

 

Lily x

 

 

Back Cover Information

 

 This weekend, Polly and Lucan work the kinks into their relationship.

 

When Polly is caught in a compromising position with a toy and a hardcore video, she doesn’t think her husband will ever go near her again. She feels twisted, nothing like the sweet wife he married. Little does she know, she’s awakened a monster by prodding Lucan’s sexual beast and making him sit up and take notice.

 

Finally.

 

But what about Lucan’s needs? He’s been so busy at work that things have gotten out of his grip to the point he can’t even remember his fantasies.

 

During a weekend of passion and turmoil, heat and pleasure, they vow to never drift apart again. Neither can imagine just how far they’ll go to please the other, or how well matched their particular variety of kinks are.

 

BUY LINKS – http://www.lilyharlem.com/x-rated.html

 

Here’s an excerpt taken from near the beginning of the book…

 

Her mouth dried. She wondered if she’d be sick. It was too late to hide what she’d been doing. It was obvious. Legs akimbo, vibrator deep in her pussy and her skin laced with sweat, there was no denying she’d been having a whole lot of fun on her own.

But he’d never, ever seen her like this. Hell, he’d never even asked her if she masturbated, or encouraged her to touch herself when they’d been together under the duvet.

“Maybe I…I should leave you to…” he said, color running from his face. “Finish doing what you’re…doing.”

Polly felt her eyes prickle. Shame, mortification and humiliation swamped her. Damn it, why hadn’t she put the chain on the front door? Why was he home so early?

She grabbed for a pillow and pressed it to her torso, covering her pussy and the vibrator and her breasts. She shut her eyes. “Go. Get out.”

A tear squeezed from her left eye and trickled down her cheek. How would she ever recover from this? Her husband catching her masturbating.

Now he’d know that he didn’t hit the spot for her. That she was unfulfilled.

She held in a sob and sneaked her hand between her legs. She pulled the vibrator out with a soft slide, her orgasm now a distant memory. She clenched her fists, tugging the pillow closer as she drew her legs together, pushing the laptop aside. A bitter taste filled her mouth as images of divorce courts, a new small flat just for herself, a bitter custody battle over Tilly, filled her mind.

She buried her face in the pillow, hoping that Lucan would just leave the house. Go away for the weekend, come back when she’d recovered.
Who was she kidding? A weekend? She’d never recover from the shame of this moment, not in a million years.

Maybe he’d just leave now, forever. And that would be it.

A fresh stream of tears attacked her and she let them soak into the pillow. She didn’t want him to leave. She loved Lucan. Always had and always would. He was the one for her and she’d meant those vows when she’d said them in church in front of all of their family and friends. Till death do us part was what she’d intended.

Eventually she opened her eyes. Her heart was thudding, her pulse surging in her ears. She’d have to get dressed and put her vibrator away.

Lucan was standing at the end of the bed, still staring at her with that open-mouthed expression of disbelief.

“Go,” she said again, her voice shaky. “Get out, Lucan.”

He shook his head. His attention went to the laptop.

“Lucan…” A full body tremble attacked her. “Leave.”

“Who’s there?” He nodded at the laptop.

“What?”

“Who is it? Who were you talking to?”

“I…no one.”

He tossed his tie to the floor and folded his arms. “I’m not stupid, Polly. You were connecting with someone online. What is it? Facetime? Skype?”

“No.” What was he talking about?

He reached for the laptop.

So did she. “Give it back.”

They both had a hold of it. Her breasts jiggled as she tugged.
“Polly.” He glared at her. “Let me see. I need to know who you’re cheating on me with.”

“Cheating?”

“Yes. You’re my wife,” he spoke slowly and deliberately, “and if another man is seeing you…do this…seeing your…I need to know.”

She’d never heard his voice so low and dangerous. Or seen his dark eyebrows pulled together that way. His jaw was set to steel and his usually smiling mouth a thin, pained line.

“I’m…I’m not cheating.” She gripped the laptop harder. Maybe it would have been better if she was cheating. The thought of him seeing the porn movie she’d been watching was horrendous. He’d think her perverted and twisted.

“Don’t lie to me.”

“I’m not. I’ve never cheated on you. I never would.” The pillow fell away completely.

His attention drifted over her naked body.

It was like a heated caress. When had he last seen her without clothes? She couldn’t remember.

God, what had happened to them?

“So you’ll show me then. If there’s no one there. No one on the other side of the camera?”

“Camera? You really think I’d be filming myself do that?” She was shocked at the thought. The porn stars did it sure…but her? Little Polly Hartgrove from Amersham, office mouse, wouldn’t say boo to a goose. “Of course there’s no one there.”
He gave an extra hard tug and she was forced to let go. He huffed, a small triumphant sound, and marched to the opposite side of the room. His shirt had come partly untucked and hung in a ruck over his neat navy suit trousers.

Polly raced after him, the air cool on her skin. But she didn’t reach him fast enough and he’d flipped it open.

A wave of relief went through her as she looked over his shoulder. The password box sat safely in the center of the screen.

He stooped, fingers spread over the keyboard and typed.

A tinny ping reported he’d got it wrong.

He tried it again.
Polly’s heart was racing, her breaths shallow. She wanted to grab her robe but was too caught up in the moment. She prayed he wouldn’t guess her password was Tilly.

But of course he did.

The screen filled with the last shot Polly had seen. The actress’ butthole filled with thick cock. Her fingers were in her pussy and the man gripped her hips. The sounds that suddenly rang around the room were horrific. Wails and cries, panting and gasping. Crude words and the wet, slapping noise of flesh on flesh.

Lucan straightened, his gaze glued on the screen.

Polly clasped her hand over her mouth to hold in a cry of mortification.

“You were…watching this?” he said, not looking at her.

She didn’t think he needed an answer.

 

 

 

 

About Lily Harlem

 

Lily Harlem lives in the UK and is an award winning, bestselling author of erotic romance. After giving up a busy career in nursing she now spends her time enjoying her rescued pets and penning steamy stories. She writes for publishers on both sides of the Atlantic including, HarperCollins, Totally Bound, Pride, Evernight, All Romance eBooks and Stormy Night Publications. She also self-publishes novels that range from emotionally charged erotic romance, to steamy ménage a trois.

One thing you can be sure of, whatever book you pick up by Ms Harlem, in whichever pairing or genre, is it will be wildly romantic and down-and-dirty sexy so make sure you hang on tight for the ride! Subscribe to her newsletter to get a FREE ebook.

 

Find Lily Here: 

 

Website http://www.lilyharlem.com/

Newsletter Subscription http://www.lilyharlem.com/newsletter.html

Blog http://www.lilyharlem.blogspot.com/

Twitter https://twitter.com/lily_harlem

Facebook https://www.facebook.com/lily.harlem

 

 
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