Posts Tagged ‘giveaway’
It’s always an honour to participate in a Smutters blog hop, and even more of an honour when its Coming Together with Curves for a good cause, and Parkinson’s Awareness week is a very good cause.
Like most blog hops, there’s a giveaway involved. I’ll give away a free copy of my curvy short novella, Allotted Views to the winner. All you have to do is comment on the post. And if you want to make a difference, you’ll find a just giving link below where you can donate to help find a cure.
Below that, you’ll find a naughty, curvy excerpt for your reading pleasure.
Smut for Good: Curves Rule is a blog hop with prizes galore to raise funds for Parkinson’s UK as this is Parkinson’s Awareness week. To find more curves, and seek out further prizes please visit http://smutters.co.uk/smut-for-good and if you can take a minute to please visit the Smut for Good: Curves Rule Just Giving Page athttp://www.justgiving.com/curvesrule and donate whatever you can to help us reach our target of £100 to raise awareness of Parkinson’s and to support the charity Parkinson’s UK http://www.parkinsons.org.uk/ who help those with the disease learn to cope with the challenges, give out information and search for a cure.
Allotted Views Excerpt:
Warning: Adult Content & Veggie Porn!
Later, I was awakened by whispers. My heart went into overdrive with a rush of anticipation. I rose and walked on tiptoe to the window to peek out. Sure enough, there was Woo-Woo Man, but this time he wasn’t alone. The woman he was with, for lack of a more fitting term, was voluptuous. If he was woo-woo, she was woo-woo squared. She wore a dark gown with a tightly fitted bodice from which her very ample breasts mounded like large scoops of vanilla ice cream crowded into a small dish. The dress must have been corseted at the waist because it beautifully accentuated hourglass hips and buttocks that looked like they must be completely luscious for her to sit on or for anyone else to fondle. The long skirt swished with a silken hiss teasing its way between her thighs as she walked. There was a mountain of pale curly hair caught up on top of her head in a generous clipping of crystals and feathers. ‘Oh, it’s lovely, Jonathan.’ Her voice was a honey-comb-dipped contralto that I felt down low between my hipbones.
‘Then you’ll do it, My Lady?’ He took her hands in his, raised them reverently to his lips and kissed her pale knuckles. ‘You’ll bless it with me?’
‘Of course I will, Jonathan, darling, of course I will.’ She stood unmoving while Jonathan slid the white poet shirt he now wore off over his head and fumbled his way out of his cargo trousers. It was the way his cock rested unsubstantially drawn up against his balls that told me the man was nervous. But his spiky nipples told me he’d get over it.
With a melodramatic flutter of her long, heavy sleeves, My Lady lifted her arms into the air, and motioned Jonathan to do likewise. Then her voice got even lower as she earnestly entreated the blessing of the earth for the feeding of her children. That done, she held her arms out to each side, palms delicately cupped, facing upward, and nodded her consent, casting a demure glance down the pale valley between her breasts.
With fingers that were visibly shaking, Jonathan undid the tight cup of the bodice and My Lady’s bosom tumbled free just as she was saying something about all of us suckling at nature’s breasts. With one hand, fingers sparkling in sliver spirals of rings, she pulled him to her, first one tit and then the other. Each time he nursed and caressed and slurped her ripe strawberry nipples, she spoke a few words into the silent midnight air. And each time she gave him suck, his cock stretched and expanded and reached for her until it pressed its way into the dark satin folds of her skirt.
Then she stepped back slightly and offered him her hand. With his cock leading the way, he guided her to stand in the middle of the garden between the beans and the brassicas. There she squatted wide legged, and for a second I thought there would be more urea, but instead of peeing, she took a handful of soil, lifted it into the air in front of her and let it fall between her fingers. I couldn’t hear what she was saying, but suddenly she stopped speaking, stood and motioned him to her again.
This time he undid the rest of the dress, and it fell around her ankles like a chrysalis being shed, brushing cabbage leaves and bean poles in its fullness. Then with him holding her hand, she stepped free of the dress standing tall and shimmering and completely naked in the muted touch of the sodium streetlight. She was Rubinesque in the most exquisite way. There were no protruding bones, no sharp edges, just soft pillowed curves that begged to be touched and nuzzled and fondled.
I had a lover once who’d made a fortune working in the city. One year, for my birthday, he took me to a very expensive hotel. I remember languishing on a bed mounded with satin pillows of every shape and size. I remember how after too much expensive fizz, he undressed me slowly and settled me into the middle of them all. I felt them against my cheek, hugging the sides of my breasts, sliding feather-soft over my nipples, shoving in between my legs as he removed my panties and arranged me like I was some kind of jewelry displayed on a bed of velvet. I relished their softness and resilience as he carefully positioned them beneath my hips until I gaped before him at the perfect angle for his explorations, at the perfect angle for his mounting. The contrast of his hard thrusts and pants over me and the lush, forgiving caress of the pillows beneath me was sensory overload that sent me into orgasmic bliss. Sadly the man wasn’t nearly as memorable as that delicious mound of pillows.
My Lady was like that. There was no part of her I wouldn’t have loved to pull to me and bury my face in. Almost unconsciously I found myself leaning forward toward her, nearly out the open window. She walked naked amid the ordered rows of tomatoes and carrots. She fondled the long leaves of the sweet corn, stroking them to her breasts, lifting them to her nose and inhaling their scent. She ran bare toes upward along the feathery greens of the carrots like a ballerina, each movement, each interaction making her more desirable, more exquisite in the shadowy light. And yet, Jonathan didn’t touch her, though his erection told me he wanted to badly enough. He simply followed her around with a proprietary step made comic by the bounce of his cock.
At last she turned to him and he nearly ploughed into her. ‘Jonathan, my darling, I offer myself to you for the blessing of this lovely garden.’
When he hesitated, she chuckled softly and ran a hand invitingly down the expansive curve of her hip. ‘Come now, darling, there’s no need to be shy. Our pleasure is a part of the magic.’ She turned her back to him and bent forward so that the lush pillows of her buttocks faced him, faced my window, and I grabbed at the buttons of my night shirt, clawing it free so that my own small breasts could take in the night breeze, so that my pussy rubbed unhindered against the chair I’d left in front of the window after Jonathan’s first worshipful wank – just in case.
‘Don’t be shy,’ she whispered. ‘Just for tonight, I am the goddess, you are my consort, and the great yoni that birthed all things into existence will be honoured by our offering. My pussy is yours until the magic is completed.’ Perhaps it was her sudden use of nasty language in a situation which up until now had seemed rather formal and reverent in spite of the chavish undertones of sneaking a fuck in the allotments after hours. But more than likely it was just the close proximity of her luscious bare arse cushioning said puss. Propriety gave way to lust. I held my breath, and my cunt trembled and clenched as he reached for her. He kneaded her arse cheeks in hard, probing caresses, which she seemed to like, if the little kitten sounds coming from her throat were any indication. She bent forward a little more and with one sparkling hand cupped a buttock and pulled herself open like ripe fruit ready to be eaten. The tight knot of her anus puckered and relaxed at the gust of his breath, though that’s only speculation on my part, but my own anus clenched in empathy at the nearness of his face to her lovely nether grip.
I expected him to shimmy his thick fingers down over her perineum to part the heavy folds of her labia, only now revealed as she bent still further to offer him a better view. But instead, he buried his face in her crevice, and she gave a tight little yelp of surprise as he began to eat his way along the sumptuous path to her cunny. I barely managed to stifle my own yelp at his face-first plunge, but I liked him so much better for doing exactly what I would have loved to do.
The sound of his oral explorations carried in the night time quiet even over the heavy breathing of all three of us. ‘You taste sweet,’ he said, ‘and you’re so slippery.’
‘Being around growing things arouses me so,’ she replied. ‘When I smell the earth all ripe and ready, when I see new buds bursting and spreading, I get all squirmy and juicy and I want to have sex on the ground under the moon. I want to rut like a wild animal, like our ancestors did, like we were intended.’
The view for me was exquisite as I stroked my own wetness, vaguely aware of the mess I was making on my chair, but not caring. My Lady’s clit was marble hard and nearly as big. I know that because Jonathan told her so, a revelation that made her wriggle her pale bottom back against his mouth and open her legs still further. I was sure my clit could have matched in size and tightness, as I tweaked it between my thumb and forefinger. Though I couldn’t see her cunny, I could see the clench and relax of his pucker, and when he moved just right I got the between-the-thighs view of his weighty balls and distended cock.
‘Fuck me, Jonathan,’ she hissed between her teeth. ‘I need you to fuck me. I need to come.’
And there’s the rub of it, I thought. In the end, it really is all about sex, and I would have gladly fucked either one of them, but I still wasn’t convinced it was the secret to a good veg patch.
Jonathan pulled his face away shining with her juices, and I swear I could smell pussy on the soft night breeze, pussy other than my own. When he pushed his penis up into her, I heard the slurp of her wetness. I figured the whimpers and grunts of need that followed didn’t really have too much to do with serving the goddess, but then what the hell did I know? What the hell did I care as long as we all came? And all three of us were so damn close that a feather of a breath would have sent us toppling over the edge.
Then My Lady gasped and began to keen, ‘oh my goddess, oh my goddess I’m coming! I’m coming!’ And she wasn’t quiet about it either, so in spite of his reverence for the woman, Jonathan shoved the hand that had been kneading great fists full of her swaying breasts against her mouth to silence her. She had just managed containment when he pulled out of her so quickly that she nearly lost her balance, then to her squeals of delight and praises of the goddess, he shot arched streams of semen onto the brassicas and beans, and I practically juddered myself off the chair when my own orgasm hit.
After they’d caught their breath, he helped My Lady back into her dress, all the while she spoke in hushed tones about the goddess’s blessing on Jonathan’s garden, and what a gift he had. I wondered if she was talking about his skills as a gardener or his skills as a lover. Neither seemed to be lacking as far as I could tell. Then, when they were both dressed, just before they left, she turned to him and gave his cock a stroke through his trousers. ‘Keep the ground fertile, Jonathan, keep the ground fertile.’
I could have kissed her for that had I not been watching uninvited, because the very next night, Jonathan took her at her word. He was back coming on the tomatoes and courgettes, and I came with him, a heavy dildo shoved up the juicy squelch- squelch of my pussy, one that I’d bought that morning at a shop I pass on the way to work. I bought it because I thought was shaped particularly like him. The added appendage was enough to give me several good orgasms while I watched him tug and stroke his own appendage, and even ride a long middle finger knuckle-deep into his anus. Three nights in a row, on the advice of My Lady, he wanked on his veg, and I wanked in sympathy, every night having multiples, every night drenching myself shamelessly, every night pushing my body over the edge into mindless trembling pleasure. My god, it was amazing!
Those who say online friendships don’t count/ aren’t real/are of less value than others, are – in my book – wrong.
I was quite late to Facebook; I joined in 2007,abandoning MySpace along with the droves, but for at least five years I had few friends and posted irregularly to say the least. I was even slower off the mark with Twitter, only joining because my first publisher suggested it. However, I took to Twitter like the proverbial duck and enjoyed hours of chatting and joking and information sharing with my new Besties. My family might have enjoyed this period a little less, but, hey, there are always winners and losers. As my love affair with Twitter grew in intensity, ironically, I fell in love with Facebook too. Like most of us, my love is not of a fixed capacity.
There were tweeps I spoke with more than others, and it wasn’t long before plans to meet face to face were hatched. I have become ‘real’ friends with over half a dozen people I met online and ‘real’ acquaintances with many, many more. Of course, geography has played its part. I’ve not hooked up with tweeps in Australia, the US or Croatia, though I do know those who when travelling have done this, and perhaps one day, I might too.
I consider myself lucky to have so many good, solid friends, real and virtual. Not everyone does. My lead in Public Battles, Private Wars, Mandy, has enemies as well as friends and she finds both in the most unexpected quarters.
Writers are a friendly bunch, supportive and kind, rarely competitive, and forums like Facebook and Twitter suit most of us very well indeed. I met the lovely KD on Twitter and I’ve met her in real life (just as lovely there). So, here’s what I say to those who say virtual friendships are shallow: Don’t be a Twerp, come join the party.
Public Battles, Private Wars is published by Accent Press on 27 March.
Miner’s wife Mandy is stuck in a rut. Her future looks set and she wants more. But Mandy can’t do anything other than bake and raise her four children. Husband Rob is a good looking drinker, content to spend his days in the small town where they live.
When a childhood friend – beautiful, clever Ruth – and her Falklands war hero husband, Dan, return to town, their homecoming is shrouded in mystery. Mandy looks to Ruth for inspiration, but Ruth isn’t all she appears.
Conflict with the Coal Board turns into war and the men come out on strike. The community and its way of life is threatened. Mandy abandons dreams of liberation from the kitchen sink and joins a support group. As the strike rumbles on relationships are pushed to the brink, and Mandy finds out who her true friends are.
And there are SIX copies up for grabs in a giveaway over at Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/21488069-public-battles-private-wars
You can find out more about Laura and the novel, including Book Group Questions, here: http://laura-wilkinson.co.uk
The prize on offer is a LELO Ora: The World’s Most Sophisticated Oral Sex Simulator You can Experience pure oral pleasures on demand with the first ever sensual massager to offer long, seductive swirls and fast flicks alongside intense vibrations on and around the clitoris. Promising wave after wave of pleasure, ORA provides the most varied and satisfying sensual experiences you will return to again and again. Learn more about ORA
For a chance to win, post a comment, and for more chances to win, check out all the other fab Valentine Blisse Kisses and comment there too.
I’ll also be doing a giveaway from right here on A Hopeful Romantic. Winner will receive an eBook version of my sizzling travel novella, Migrations.
But now, here’s a snogalicious scene from my latest, Fulfilling the Contract, with a guest appearance from Rita Holly taking time out from the Mount in London for a snog and a look-see. Fulfilling the Contract is the sequel to The Initiation of Ms Holly and the second novel in The Mount Series. Fun in Vegas!
Limo driver, NICK CHASE’s bad night gets worse when he picks up TANYA POVIC at a bar only to discover the explosive sex they share lands her in breach of her very strange contract. Blaming himself that Tanya will lose the large completion bonus earmarked for her mother’s surgery, Nick negotiates with her boss, the tough and mysterious ELSA CRANE, to allow him to fulfill Tanya’s contract and secure her bonus.
Elsa runs Mount Vegas, which offers voyeuristic pleasures for a price. Nick’s job, with Elsa and her quirky team, is to give clients something worth watching through the plate glass windows of Vegas’s luxury hotels and beyond. The learning curve is steep and kinky. As Nick and Elsa’s relationship sizzles and ignites more than hotel room rendezvouses are exposed. In this sequel to The Initiation of Ms Holly things get positively dangerous as Rita Holly and her team are called in from London to lend a helping hand. Bets are being placed. Will Nick fulfil the contract? Will he and Elsa take the gamble? And will they find a way to win at the high stakes, double or nothing, game of hearts?
Elsa sat very still, feeling the tremors pass through her pussy and climb up her spine again and again. She sat with her eyes locked on Nick Chase, who had now dropped to his knees, his shoulders heaving for breath, his cock still gripped in his hand as Deb slid down the window like she was made of Jell-O.
Then Pagan stumbled back to the keyboard. ‘Alright, Nick, Deb, you’re clear,’ he spoke into the mic gulping air like he’d just run a marathon. While the sounds of zipping and tucking filled the room, he turned his attention back to the control center and busied himself checking the recordings that were a part of each paying client’s package
‘Wow,’ Beetle said, ‘I think all of us are gonna want a copy of that little number, Pagan.’
‘Already on it,’ the big man called over his shoulder.
Just then, Elsa’s BlackBerry rang. She answered, and her pulse went into overdrive.’
‘Hi Elsa, Rita here. Edward and I are still recovering from your Mr. Chase’s fantastic debut. My God, he’s a hot one!’
‘You saw it?’ Elsa managed.
‘We more than saw it, we had a hot little session of our own while we watched. He’s definitely a keeper.’
‘You were watching?’ Elsa repeated.
There was a pause on the other end of the phone. ‘Sorry about that. It was a very last minute request, but Pike said he was sure you wouldn’t mind.’
Elsa glared at Pike. ‘Pike is just so helpful, isn’t he?’ She ground her teeth. ‘I’m glad you enjoyed it, Rita.’
There was another pause. ‘Elsa, don’t let Nick Chase get away. He’s exactly the kind of man you need … the kind of person Mount Vegas needs to strengthen its ranks.’
Elsa nodded dumbly.
‘Look, Sweetie, I have to go,’ Rita said. ‘Totally starving after that little performance. Skype you tomorrow.’
Before Elsa had time to question Pike, the door burst open and Nick and Deb blew in. Deb was practically bouncing off the wall with excitement. As Elsa stood to greet them, Deb threw her arms around her boss and hugged her. ‘Did you see? It was amazing. Nick was amazing, wasn’t he?’ Before Elsa could answer, Deb was already hugging everyone else, leaping onto Pike and wrapping her shorts-clad legs around his waist to get a more effective bear-hug.
When Deb finally settled with both feet on the ground, Elsa turned her gaze to Nick. ‘Yes, he truly was.’
Deb barley heard her. She kissed Nick on the mouth, then gave him a giggley bear hug. ‘You were amazing, Nick. We were both amazing, Mr. Smith,’ she said in her thick southern drawl. Then she smacked her lips. ‘I feel like I swallowed the desert. I need hydration.’ She waltzed off to the kitchen for a bottle of water, leaving Nick and Elsa standing practically nose to nose. In a move that was fast and hard, Nick pulled Elsa into his arms forcing a little grunt of air from her throat before he took her mouth, and it wasn’t a thanks-boss-glad-you-liked-my-work sort of kiss. He pulled her whole body against him, running his large palm up under her loose shirt to stroke her back, and fuck if his hands weren’t calloused, just like in her fantasies. Any semblance of professionalism she tried to maintain between herself and Nick Chase went out the window as she threw her arms around his neck and returned his kiss. His inquisitive tongue explored her mouth, and she returned the favour, pressing herself up tight and close to the rumpled trousers he still wore, trousers that couldn’t disguise his very interested hard-on.
‘Mmmm,’ he moaned into her mouth, his hands finding their way down inside the waistband of her shorts to cup her bottom, resulting in a harsh intake of breath and a flinch.’ ‘Sorry. Forgot, you’re tender down there,’ he said, and his groping became stroking with his fingertips just grazing her cleft.
She was on her toes, the very tips of them, in an effort to get up high enough for him to make contact with her ache. The undulation of his body was evidence that it was exactly that contact Nick was aiming for, and at the moment, he didn’t seem to care that they were very much the center of attention.
Deb returned to the room and offered a little sigh of surprise at their antics. They’d had group sex before, there was nothing they hadn’t done to each other and seen each other do. It was the nature of the job they did, and yet, being held by, being kissed and fondled by Nick Chase felt way more intimate than anything Elsa could ever remember feeling.
Somehow he had shoved and groped up her shirt until her breasts pressed hard-nipple tight against the muscular rise and fall of his chest. With a hand that had a mind of its own, she shoved at his shirt and battled several unruly buttons to expose him enough that flesh touched flesh, hot, needy, oxygen-starved flesh and, Christ, she’d never felt anything like it! She’d forgotten they weren’t alone. Even if she remembered, it didn’t matter. Her hand slid low to caress the path of soft down under his navel. She wriggled her fingers into the gaping waistband of his trousers until they brushed his tight pubic curls, until the thick base of his cock tightened still further against her touch. He grunted as though she had punched him, shoving and thrusting to get closer to her hand.
‘Elsa.’ He whispered her name into her mouth. ‘Oh God, Elsa. I want … I want …’
And she wanted too. She wanted what she’d never had before, what she didn’t even have words for. But for a hot, tense moment of clarity, she was sure whatever it was, Nick Chase could give it to her.
And then Pike broke the spell.
‘Get a room, you two. You’re making the rest of us jealous.’ He said.
Elsa couldn’t help herself. She pulled away from Nick in an effort that would have been wrenching but for the knot of anger spurring her on. She turned on Pike and grabbed the front of his t-shirt in a tight fist, pulling him close to her. ‘If you ever, ever go over my head like that again, Pike, when I’m finished with you, I’ll make what you do in the dungeon seem like a waltz in the park.’
‘Oh come on, Elsa, it was the right thing, and you know it. Besides you were already starting your act when Rita Holly called, so you can’t blame me for that.’ Pike’s mistake was not quite being able to wipe the smile off his face.
‘I didn’t ask for your opinion, and we’ll discuss this in my office in the morning.’ Then she turned and walked out of the room, walked out of the suite, walked out of the hotel.
Nick turned to follow her, but Beetle grabbed his arm. ‘Trust me, you don’t want to catch up with her right now. Give her a little chance to cool down.’
Time to pucker up! It’s Blissemas Kissmas, and who isn’t up for an icy bracing winter snog to warm more than the cockles of your heart? Sex al fresco in the cold is fast and furious and no matter how cold it is outside, hotter than hot! Today I’m sharing a kiss with you between Stacie Emerson and Harris Walker, the heroine and hero of The Exhibition, book three of Grace Marshall’s Executive Decisions trilogy. After a hard hike up a dry canyon in the High Desert of Central Oregon, or couple is rewarded with views of a pair of mountain lions mating. Something very rarely seen by humans. The experience leads to an estonishing confession by Stacie and cold-hot sex al fresco.
To celebrate winter kisses I’m giving away a free copy of Gracefully Aroused, the Best of K D Grace. All you have to do is leave a comment for a chance to win. And don’t forget to check out all the other hot winter snogs on Blissemas Kissmas!
Also while your in the festive spirit, don’t forget to check out all the Blissemas fun. More chances to pick fabulous prizes and check out fabulous blogs with amazing posts. Not to be missed!
The Exhibition Blurb:
Successful NYC gallery owner, Stacie Emerson, is ex-fiancée to one Thorne brother and ex-wife to the other. Though the three have made peace, Ellison Thorne’s friend, wildlife photographer, Harris Walker, still doesn’t like her. When Stacie convinces Harris to exhibit his work for the opening of her new gallery she never intended to include him in her other more hazardous plans. But when those plans draw the attention of dangerous business tycoon, Terrance Jamison, Harris comes to her aid. In the shadow of a threat only Stacie understands, can she dare let Harris into her life and make room for love?
Excerpt from The Exhibition:
Harris didn’t know what to say. There were not words for what he felt, for what Stacie had been through or for what he wanted to do to Jamison. For a long time he said nothing, only sat next to her looking out over the dry canyon as though somehow by avoiding her gaze he could give her a little space, a little privacy for her vulnerabilities, for how she had lain herself bare before him. It was only when he realized she was shivering that he settled closer and pulled her to him.
At last he gathered his thoughts from the maelstrom enough to speak. ‘Why did you go back to him? I mean this time?’
She pulled away and chafed her arms. ‘I told you I was desperate.’
‘You don’t really expect me or anyone else to believe that do you?’
‘It doesn’t matter what you believe.’ Her reply was cool, distant. ‘What matters is that I’ll pay my debts. I promise that I will. Then all of this’ll be over with.’ She stood to put her pack back on, and he came to his feet and caught her by the shoulder, not wanting it to end like this, not wanting her to leave until they were good again. When she tried to push him away, he pressed her between his body and the stone of the cliff face. ‘You can’t just shut us all out, Stacie.’
‘I never wanted you involved in the first place. I never wanted any of you involved but you couldn’t leave it alone,’ she jerked back against him but there was no place to go. ‘You couldn’t just let it go.’
He moved in closer until his body pressed up against hers, holding her tightly against the stone. ‘No, I couldn’t, and I can’t and neither can anyone else who cares about you and neither would you if the situation were reversed. So whether you like it or not, I’m here to stay. We’ve already discussed this, so get used to it.’ He punctuated his point with a harsh kiss that couldn’t have been very pleasant for her, but then he was angry, worried, scared for her. Instead of shoving at him as he’d expected her to do, she curled a hard fist in his hair and ravaged his mouth with every bit as much ferocity as he had given her, pulling him still closer, rubbing her body against his, making him instantly and startlingly erect.
She snaked a hand down between them and savaged his fly until he feared for what lay beneath, until her fingers wriggled and dug their way into his walking trousers to possess his cock with a tight grip as though it were a weapon, one she were about to use to do serious damage.
He fumbled to return the favour, with her ripping at her own fly to make room for him, to guide his fingers down over her mons. Her eyes locked his in a devastating gaze that felt as though she could see right through him. ‘I need you to touch me there.’ Her voice was a breathless whisper. ‘Where I’m wet, where I’m open, where I’m always, always hungry for you.’ Her breath caught; her eyelids fluttered and she sucked her bottom lip as he found her cleft, wet and open as she’d promised. ‘You can’t tell me you don’t want to be like those cats.’ She guided his hand still further and manipulated it until first two, then three fingers pressed up into her. ‘You can’t tell me that when I present myself to you all hot and ready and begging for it, you don’t want to service my need. You can’t tell me you don’t want to get a little primal with that cock of yours.’ She gave him a hard squeeze and drove her hand up and down his length, thumbing the already abundant pre-cum over and around the tip until he gritted his teeth and held his breath while his hips bucked hard against her efforts.
He scissored her deep with three fingers and raked the silky slickness of her up and over her clitoris, and the sounds from the back of her throat easily resembled the sounds the female cougar made when the male mounted her. They wildly, madly fucked each other’s hands. The wind had risen and even on the clear morning, the chill left no doubt about lingering for more than the quickest of releases. Then she shifted, pressed her back hard against the stone and rested both of her hands on his shoulders. Before he could protest the removal of her fingers from his cock, she wrapped her legs around his waist, her still clothed crotch rubbing tight and insanely hot against his exposed cock as she began to rock and gyrate, and it was all happening way too fast.
‘Stacie I –’
‘Shut up, Harris,’ she spoke between chattering teeth. ‘I need to come, and so do you. You can fuck me properly when we get back to the SUV. It’s too damn cold to linger.’ With each sentence she ground against him, baring down with the extra leverage the cliff at her back afforded and, almost before the words were out of her mouth, she convulsed. Her spine stiffened and her shivers had nothing to do with the cold. Harris could stand no more. He felt the eruption deep in his groin. It might have been embarrassing had the circumstances been different, but as he tried to cover himself, tried to hide the results of Stacie’s hard ride, she shoved his hand away, pushed him back and practically fell into the space between them positioning herself so that she caught his release, all of it in her mouth. What could he say to that? What could he do but hold her there, helplessly grunting the weight of his need into the back of her throat. It was an act as intimate and as primal as the cougars mating on the rocks minutes ago. And sex, any kind of sex, with Stacie Emerson was worlds apart from any other sexual experiences he’d ever had. As she stood and wiped her mouth on the back of her hand, the look of hunger in her eyes, the promise of more sex to come in the SUV before the trip home couldn’t help but lighten the mood. As they straightened and tucked and donned their packs, he wondered if that was maybe why she did it. Whatever her reason, it definitely worked for him in ways he was still trying to get his head around.
The walk back to the SUV was at speed. They had seen the mountain lions and the wind had risen to a howl bringing with it fast moving nimbus clouds that, this time of year, could easily enough drop their load on the Cascades in the form of snow.
From a love spell that doesn’t quite go to plan to a farmhand who needs a little discipline; from a woman who is addicted to the confessional to a personal trainer with a very unorthodox method of guaranteeing his clients they’ll look fab come bikini season, K D Grace will tell you a naughty story with a twist. Before there was Ms Holly and The Pet Shop, before there were sexy ghosts, before Grace Marshall upped the romance ante, K D Grace was into quickies, and here’s a selection of her naughtiest.