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Posts Tagged ‘Migrations’

Road Trip Time! Sunday Selfie: Migrations

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I’m a road trip sort of girl. Put me in a car for the long haul with some great scenery and lots of open country and I’m SO there! And there’s nothing worse than having a good road trip ruined by traveling companions who are just not compatible. Lucky for me, I do most of my traveling with my hubby, who’s the best road trip partner ever, but I have had those road trips from hell, and it was one such road trip that inspired Migrations. Enjoy!

 

Migrations Blurb:

VAL HASTINGS, assisted by her do-gooder cousin, SALLY CLINE, is shanghaied into driving their AUNT ROSE across the US to visit her son. What begins as the trip from hell turns into a sexy adventure when they find themselves sharing the interstate with a mysterious, leather-clad biker. Aunt Rose and Sally are convinced he’s up to no good. But after Val catches him mid-wank at a rest area, and he offers her some steamy help to make her journey more enjoyable, she’s convinced he’s her nasty saviour.

Is HAWK, the biker, a murderer, a free spirit, or something else? Whatever he is, animal attraction wins out over caution, as he joins the ladies for a cross country romp that keeps Sally and Aunt Rose nervous and Val hotter than her overheating engine.

 

Migrations Excerpt:

Warning! X-Rated Excerpt HAWT!

 

Chapter One

‘IT’S THE ROAD TRIP from hell! I knew it would be. I just knew it!’ Val didn’t bother to speak quietly. After what she’d cariad-cover-for-migrationsbeen through, no one could possibly blame her for losing it and talking to herself. And this was just the beginning! How the hell was she going to survive this little misadventure all the way to Oregon? She glanced quickly over her shoulder as she stepped behind the bathrooms at the rest area, trying desperately to block out the memory of Aunt Rose accusing the elderly gentleman at the vending machine of stealing her change.

She needed to vent or she’d explode. Once behind the building she turned her face to the wall and banged her head against it. ‘Why me? I’m not a bad person. I never murdered anyone, I always recycle. I volunteer for the autumn fucking bird count. Why?’ She banged her head for emphasis. ‘… the hell.’ Bang bang bang. ‘… Me?’ Bang, bang.

‘Sounds like you could use a good wank.’

She couldn’t have stopped the yelp that escaped her throat if she’d tried, but as she spun around to make a run for the car, what she saw stopped her in her tracks.

‘Sh!’ A man in a faded blue T-shirt and jeans that were even more faded raised a finger to his lips. It was impossible not to notice that the other hand was occupied, wrapped around the big stiffy that looked as though it had parted his fly like Moses parting the Red Sea, and my, what a staff!

When he was sure he had her full attention, as if there was any doubt of that, he spoke. ‘Quiet.’ He glanced around quickly. ‘If word gets out,’ he nodded to his stretching cock, ‘everyone’ll be back here getting a little relief from the road.

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Though, in your case …’ he leaned closer and she could see startling blue eyes peeking over the mirrored shades that slid down his sun-freckled nose, ‘… I reckon you need it more than most.’

She pressed her back against the wall and moaned, not taking her eyes off the fascinating handwork on his cock. ‘You saw then.’

He nodded and gave a little grunt and a flutter of sun- bleached lashes as he lifted his balls free from the peek-a-boo squish of his fly. ‘And heard. Hard not to really.’

‘Fuck!’ She cursed.

He chuckled. ‘I never fuck on a first date, but I’m happy to choke the chicken in solidarity.’

She nodded to his efforts. ‘It really helps?’

‘Absolutely,’ he grunted at a particularly rough tugging of his cock. ‘Best kept secret in the world,’ he said following her gaze, giving his balls a smile and a grope as though he’d just realised they were there. ‘The world would be a much better place if everyone would just chill and treat themselves to a little self-love every now and again. Can you imagine the bliss? Go on, indulge yourself.’ He nodded to her trousers. ‘I’d say you could use the relief.’

She shook her head. ‘I don’t have time. Aunt Rose will be on me like a screaming banshee if she catches me.’

‘Of course you’ve got time. If I’m not mistaken, she took her copy of The National Enquirer into the bathroom with her, didn’t she? And your cousin, she is your cousin, isn’t she? Well, she’s on her cell phone with her kids, something about not pouring tomato soup in the toaster.’

‘Jesus, you heard?’

‘Sweet cheeks, everybody heard,’ he said with a tug on his schlong for emphasis. Trust me; the misdeeds of your cousin’s little angels and the condition of your auntie’s bowels are now common knowledge at this rest stop.’

‘Fuck,’ she said again, running a hand through her hair, now beginning to curl around her temples from the unseasonably warm spring heat.

‘Really, darlin’,’ he nodded again to her trousers. ‘It’ll make 2

you feel better. I won’t look if you don’t want me to.’
Maybe it was just a testament to how desperate she was, or how loopy she had already become, but she opened her fly and stuck her hand down inside her panties. When she made contact, her breath caught and her body gave a little

involuntary jerk.
Without missing a beat, he gave her an appreciative nod.

‘There now. That’s better, isn’t it? You wet?’
She nodded. ‘How’d you know?’
‘No surprise really. Anger and frustration can often be a

turn-on. Well not a turn-on per-se, but the body compensates for the stress in the best way it knows to make itself feel better.’ He shrugged. ‘Plus watching someone else handle their junk usually will do the trick too.’

‘Sh!’ she hissed. ‘Don’t talk, just touch it, and let me watch, and relieve my stress.’

He did as she asked, easing his jeans down enough that she could see the lovely straight lines of his hips perfectly balanced by the muscular swell of his ass-cheeks, which clenched and relaxed with each thrust. ‘What else?’ he grunted.

‘Huh?’

‘What else do you want to see? Not that I’m an exhibitionist or anything,’ his breath accelerated noticeably, ‘but I’m sympathetic to your circumstances, and right now this is so working for me.’

It wasn’t doing too badly for her either, as she slipped two fingers in between her swell and began to scissor them while her thumb went to work on her clit. ‘Turn around a little,’ she breathed. ‘I want to see your ass.’

He did as she asked, half bending over to give her an exquisite view, and she felt herself gush, as he spread his ass- cheeks. ‘Oh my!’ she gasped.

‘You like that, do you? You wanna see my back hole?’
‘Oh God, yes.’
‘And you’d like me to finger it while I wank, wouldn’t

you?’ He didn’t wait for her answer. And he really didn’t need to. Almost as though he knew what was going on in her panties, he stuck a thick middle finger into his mouth and

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sucked it until it was wet and shiny with his saliva. For a moment, she found what he was doing to his finger with his yummy mouth almost as hot as what he was doing to his cock. Through all of his efforts, his eyes, peeking over the mirrored sun shades, never left hers.

Watching her over his shoulder, making sure he was at just the right angle for her to see what was going on in front and behind, he bent over still further and spread his legs so that the twitch of his asshole was centre stage. With a tight breath released between his teeth, almost like he’d touched something hot, he eased his finger in to his back grip. ‘Ah, that’s nice,’ he breathed. ‘Such a tight fit, and my asshole’s so sensitive.’ Then he shoved it all the way in. His eyelids fluttered, his ass cheeks clenched and he positively growled and bucked against himself, tugging at his penis as though it were in serious need of subjugation.

Her panties were beyond wet, and she now gave herself the whole hand hump, four fingers shoving and wriggling inside her wet snatch while her palm exerted exquisite, almost painful pressure against her mons, which put the squeeze on her burgeoning clit. She shoved the other hand inside her blouse and manoeuvred her left breast free from her bra, at least free enough that she could knead it while pinching and stroking the nipple until it was tight and engorged and raw.

‘What else,’ he gasped.

‘I want to see you come.’ Her voice was a harsh whisper, and she felt the blush crawl up her face that she would even ask such a thing. And yet, her pussy clenched against her fingers at the thought, and her clit surged. ‘I know you’re close. You look like you’re about to burst, so go ahead. I want to see you unload on the ground like the nasty man that you are. I want to watch you spurt.’ Jesus, what was the matter with her, talking like some street whore, but even as she spoke, she felt wet slippery approval from her cunt.

‘Your wish is my command,’ he grunted. Three hard jerks balanced by the finger digging at his asshole, and he shot thick white streamers of semen across the well-manicured grass.

‘Valareee! Valerie Louise, where are you?’ The shrill voice 4

of Aunt Rose broke the mood.
‘Oh Jesus! Oh God!’ Val jerked her wet hand from her

panties and stared at it as though it were a total surprise to her while she shoved her tit back into her bra then tried to close her fly with one hand.

Wank Man handed her a pristine white hankie and she frantically wiped her fingers. Before she could wonder what to do with the hankie, he snatched it away.

‘I’ll take that,’ he said, as Aunt Rose bellowed for her niece again, this time loud enough to wake the dead in the next county. ‘I’m a frequent wanker,’ he lifted the hankie to his nose and inhaled deeply before stuffing it back in his pocket. ‘I’m always happy for some nice props.’ Then the smile slipped from his face. ‘But you didn’t come.’

‘Tell me about it,’ she whispered between her teeth. ‘So now I’m horny as hell as well as stressed out. And I have to somehow make it all the way to Oregon with at least a little sanity intact.’

Aunt Rose bellowed again.

‘Two words,’ he said, stuffing his still heavy cock nimbly back into his jeans and adjusting the tell-tale bulge to sit comfortably against his groin.

‘Two words?’ She breathed.
‘Car engines.’
‘What?’
‘Car engines, sweet cheeks. Car engines are nothing more

than built-in vibes. Just shift around on the seat.’ He demonstrated with a slow undulation of his hips that did nothing to ease the road rage in her cunt. ‘And then when you find the sweet spot, open your legs and let the car do the rest.’ He spread his stance until he reminded her of a cowboy who’d been in the saddle too long. Then he offered her a wicked smile. ‘Your aunt will never be the wiser.’

‘Valerie, there you are!’ Aunt Rose erupted from around the corner. ‘What in the world are you doing back here? I was beginning to worry that some pervert had abducted you.’

‘Birds,’ Valerie managed. ‘Some meadow larks, and when I came around here, Mr –’ She turned around to find Wank Man

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gone. The only trace of him was the white streaks of jizz on the grass, but Aunt Rose didn’t notice that. She grabbed her niece with the hard grip that Val and her cousin, Sally, jokingly referred to as the claw, and tugged her back toward the parking lot.

‘You and your silly birds. We’ll never make it to Portland in time for my poor Harry’s surgery with you stopping to look at everything that has feathers. Now come on. We’ve got a long way to go. You’re walking funny, dear. Are you chafing?’ Aunt Rose’s voice wafted loud and clear across the rest area and the wheat field beyond. ‘I certainly would be if I wore those scratchy denim jeans you young people all wear, and in this heat too. Anything that tight against your crotch can’t be good. I have some talcum powder if you need it. A little bit of that between your thighs and some decent cotton panties, not those stringy little thongy things you girls wear now. One hundred per cent cotton, that’s what you need. That and a little talc and you’ll feel right as rain.’

The teenagers at the vending machine shot them a curious glance and sniggered. Two elderly women coming out of the rest room looked up, then quickly looked away, pretending not to have noticed Aunt Rose’s personal comfort lecture. Just then Sally, still on her cell phone, fell into step next to them telling her husband not to feed the dog bacon because it gives him diarrhoea and the last time he’d pooped in the middle of the children’s sand box.

Val mentally cringed, as they got into the car under the surreptitious stare of everyone at the rest area. As she belted herself in, her pussy twitched with nearly painful need, then her stomach clenched as Aunt Rose pulled a bottle of antihistamine spray out of her enormous bag, shoved it up each nostril and sniffed hard enough to inhale a fencepost. It was going to be a very long trip.

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The Romance Review“I very highly recommend this book and give it 5 out of 5 stars! The writing is superb with a story that is wonderfully refreshing. This story has a little bit of everything to make it extremely entertaining. At times it’s laugh-out-loud hilarious; it has family drama, mystery, and romance. While the heat level is high, there is also much more to this fun story that will keep you completely glued to the pages from start to finish. I absolutely loved this book and it’s one that I could read over and over again!” The Romance Reviews

 

“A fast paced read with lots of super hot passionate “rip off your shirt sex” scattered throughout, which was believably written with intensity and passion and plenty of sexual tension which I love in a book. I loved how they grabbed their sexual exploits throughout the journey and how she was gradually falling for this sexy hunk of a stranger oblivious to the whitterings of her relatives.” Midnight Boudoir

 

 

Migrations Nominated for The Romance Reviews Best Contemporary Erotic Romance 2012

cover image stand-alone9781908917294_FCLike so many erotic romance and romance writers, I have a long and happy working relationship with the folks over at The Romance Reviews. My books have been reviewed there, talked about there and promoted there. Carole and all the lovely people at TRR have a passion for romance, and it shows on their site. So to have my Xcite novella, Migrations nominated for The Romance Reviews Best Contemporary Erotic Romance of 2012 is a real honour! When I look down the lists of nominees, it’s even more of an honour. I’m on those lists with some fabulous writers and some of my heroes in the romance world! As I write this, I’m trying not to burst my buttons with pride!

The idea for Migrations came out of an ill-fated cross-country trip I made with family some time ago, and yes, we did drive across the places in Nebraska where the lovely sand hill cranes set down to rest and feed up on their very long migrations, though we weren’t there at the right time to see the cranes. And no, my adventure wasn’t anywhere nearly as fun and sexy as Val Hasting’s adventure turned out to be. But that’s the beauty of fiction. It’s a lovely way to redeem even the worst or our misadventures.

If you’ve read Migrations, I would very much appreciate your vote. It’s easy to do. All you have to do is click on The Romance Review badge in the upper left hand corner of this page,  or click here. The voting is open until 31 March. If you’ve not read Migrations but would like a steamy cross-country romp, just follow the Buy links to get your copy.

In the meantime, here’s just a taste of Val’s adventure:

Blurb:

VAL HASTINGS, assisted by her do-gooder cousin, SALLY CLINE, is shanghaied into driving their AUNT ROSE across the US to visit her son. What begins as the trip from hell turns into a sexy adventure when they find themselves sharing the interstate with a mysterious, leather-clad biker. Aunt Rose and Sally are convinced he’s up to no good. But after Val catches him mid-wank at a rest area, and he offers her some steamy help to make her journey more enjoyable, she’s convinced he’s her nasty saviour.

Is HAWK, the biker, a murder, a free spirit, or something else? Whatever he is, animal attraction wins out over caution, as he joins the ladies for a cross country romp that keeps Sally and Aunt Rose nervous and Val hotter than her overheating engine.

Excerpt:

They sat quietly listening to the approaching night. The high grass in the nearby fields was motionless. The air smelled of moist loam and new growth. Everything seemed to be holding its breath.

He heard it first. She felt him tense. There was a shifting in the air, then the growing sound of distant cries and calls, accented by rattling woody trills. The calls of the sandhill cranes were nothing at all the trumpeting sounds she had heard when she’d studied whooping cranes down in Port Aransas. It was like nothing she’d ever heard before, growing louder and more heavily syncopated, until she could feel it deep between her hip bones, down at the base of her spine. They were engulfed in a rolling sea of percussive trills and calls that sounded like endless, anxious questions waiting to be answered, and the moon disappeared in a sea of fluttering wings. ‘Oh my god!’ She raised to a half-crouch and squinted into the chaos. ‘It’s the cranes. It’s the sandhills! You were right. They’re here!’

‘Looks like they’ve managed to slip in under curfew again.’ He slid an arm around her and settled her back on the ground as the first birds landed and began feeding only yards from where they sat.

‘They’re huge!’ She exclaimed. ‘I mean I knew that, but actually seeing them, being this close to them, well, that’s different, isn’t it?’ Then she added, not taking her eyes off the cranes. ‘Did you know they’re the oldest known bird species still surviving? They found a Miocene crane fossil right here in Nebraska, ten million years old. Can you imagine? And it was structurally identical to modern sandhill cranes. We’re looking at the ancient past, Hawk.’

‘They make me feel a bit like a time traveller,’ he said.

She nodded agreement, as a large male close by raised his red head and rattled his questioning call. ‘I think they could easily devour a greedy businessman – well chopped, of course.’ In spite of her tasteless joke, such an end for Beranger did seem like poetic justice.

‘They are the descendants of dinosaurs, after all, and a ravenous lot.’ Hawk said, looking out over the sea of cranes.

‘As far as some of them fly to reach their breeding grounds, a little extra protein certainly wouldn’t hurt.’ She pulled the jacket tight and let the feral aroma of leather and maleness caress her.

Another wave of cranes landed nearby. The air pulsated with warm bodies, the scent of distance and altitude still on their wings. As darkness settled, the fields around them seethed with need and urgency that brought the birds back to this same place year after year, generation after generation, millennia after millennia.

‘My aunt thinks you killed Beranger.’ Her boldness surprised her.

He laughed, cupping her jaw in a calloused hand and tracing her lower lip with his thumb. ‘I had to. You said it yourself, the birds could use the extra protein.’

She nipped the tip of his thumb playfully and looked around at the feeding cranes. ‘Bon appetit!’ She called, uttering a startled gasp when he pulled her down onto the grass, his mouth covering hers as he engulfed her in his warmth and his scent.

‘Is this payment for what I owe you?’ She whispered when he pulled away.

‘Only the first instalment.’ He pushed the jacket off her shoulder along with the straps of her tank top and bra and bathed the sensitive hollow of her collar bone in warm kisses and nibbles, causing her to squirm against him.

‘It’s a big one then? The debt I mean.’ She was finding it more and more difficult to think in coherent sentences as he cupped and caressed.

‘You could be in the hotel room with your auntie and cousin watching movies on demand.’

‘Enormous then,’ she groaned, pressing up against him.

‘Mmm. I doubt if you’ll ever be able to fully repay it.’ He insinuated one knee between her legs and wriggled and nestled until his groin pressed against hers, until she could feel the hardness of him through the rub of jeans against jeans. Then he went back to work on her mouth, his tongue dancing over hers and lapping at her hard pallet, as they rocked and shifted against each other, until the friction was exquisite.

He pulled away enough to shove her tank top up until her belly was bare, then he  kissed her just below the waist band of her bra where her ribs came together, causing her to inhale in tight little gasps. He licked and nuzzled his way down to her navel, while he opened her zipper and slid a hand inside the low waist band of her panties, clearing the way for his hungry mouth. She arched up to meet his kisses, as he slid her clothing down over her hips.

It felt as though she’d been waiting forever for this moment, as he caressed and suckled the landscape of her, exploring with his fingers, with his mouth, with his eyes, like Lewis and Clark discovering a new land, like Darwin discovering a new species.

The little moan that escaped his throat against her clit might have been from the feel of her so engorged and open and receptive, or it might have been from the feel of his heavy penis pressing through his jeans. Whatever the cause, she returned the moan and curled her fingers in his hair holding him to her undulating groin. The cranes were all around them, so close she could almost touch a feathered neck or a slender leg. She felt their singleness of purpose as though it were her own, and Hawk felt it too, she was sure he did.

He nuzzled and nipped and licked at the split of her, burying his face in the warm wetness of her, caressing her fullness with deep, expressive lavings. And when she was practically in a frenzy with the want of him, he pulled away and looked up into her eyes, his face glistening with her juices. ‘I don’t want to play this time, Val. I want the real thing. I want all of you. I want to be inside you.’

‘Me too,’ she gasped. ‘I want that too.’

And they were both on their knees fumbling with zippers and snaps, pushing and shoving at denim and cotton, all aflutter like the wings of the cranes around them. The need felt like a fast moving prairie fire, with too much heat to even notice the prickle of the grass and the scratch of last year’s dead vegetation still not quite surrendered to new growth.

She heard the tear of the condom wrapper, and as she kicked free of jeans and panties he was already sheathed and ready for her, settling her bare bottom back onto his open bomber jacket and pushing into her with a grunt, which ended in an inhaled breath sucked between his teeth. ‘Oh god,’ he sighed. ‘Oh god.’

She was slick and pouting, aching and heavy. She had been all day, ever since she first saw him stroking his cock behind the bathrooms at the rest area, and she took him with tight, yielding ease that rubbed and slid and gripped in all the right places.

She lifted her legs around his hips and he groped and kneaded her ass cheeks in an effort to pull her still further onto him. ‘You’re so deep and 220px-Grus_canadensistight, and god, you feel better than anything,’ he breathed.

She grabbed his clenching buttocks, running trembling desperate fingers down the crack between, parting them, fondling them, teasing, making him suck air as her fingers brushed his anus and lingered to explore timidly.

His thrusting had become tight, stiff, manic, and she was practically off the ground, wrapped around him so tightly, digging white knuckled fingers into the tense muscle beneath his shoulder blades. All breath was gone, all thought was gone. All that was left was instinct, hunger, need. It erupted in harsh cries that caused a startled rustling of wings and a few muffled squawks in the sea of feathers and sinew, but little more. It was as though the birds somehow knew they were no threat. They continued to feed and settle in to roost as though the earth hadn’t moved, as though the fireworks of hormonal chemistry between two humans had nothing to do with them.

 

Filthy Foodie Frolic & Giveaway

1323184152b53X5uWe just got back from the big Christmas grocery shop. It’s always a big event for us, buying those special ingredients for our Christmas feast. Raymond and I associate time spent together in the kitchen cooking with dating. We met, dated and married in the former Yugoslavia and a lot of our dating time was spent over preparing meals. We’ve never lost that association of meals prepared together with romance and dating. Our Christmas feast is even more special because it involves a melding of Raymond’s Southern upbringing and my upbringing in the Rocky Mountains, with a few British treats we’ve grown to love and appreciate in our time in the UK.

Though I’ve never written any seasonal erotica, as I think about the days leading up to Christmas and New Year, I can’t help thinking about all the feasting and celebrating that goes on during that time and how often, in romance, erotica, in story in general, scenes take place with the sharing of a meal. With that in mind, I’d like to share some filthy feasting from my stories with you for the holiday season, along with a giveaway for each new foodie frolic.

There’ll be three filthy feasting frolics between now and the 29th of December with three different giveaways. The dates are today, Christmas Day and the 29th.

Leave a comment about one of your favourite foodie memories. It doesn’t have to be sexy, but it can be. The winner for the first foodie frolic will receive a PDF of my novella, Migrations.

cover image stand-alone9781908917294_FCMigrations Blurb:

VAL HASTINGS, assisted by her do-gooder cousin, SALLY CLINE, is shanghaied into driving their AUNT ROSE across the US to visit her son. What begins as the trip from hell turns into a sexy adventure when they find themselves sharing the interstate with a mysterious, leather-clad biker. Aunt Rose and Sally are convinced he’s up to no good. But after Val catches him mid-wank at a rest area, and he offers her some steamy help to make her journey more enjoyable, she’s convinced he’s her nasty saviour.

Is HAWK, the biker, a murderer, a free spirit, or something else? Whatever he is, animal attraction wins out over caution, as he joins the ladies for a cross country romp that keeps Sally and Aunt Rose nervous and Val hotter than her overheating engine.

 

 

And today’s Filthy Foodie Frolic is from my novel, The Pet Shop. There’s nothing more filthy than a frolic over breakfast with Tino!

The Pet Shop Blurb:

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

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

Excerpt:

Breakfast with Tino

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

Note: The former is preferable, as most Pets and Pet keepers find sharing a meal in this fashion very enjoyable and apart of their bonding experience.

The manual was right. Once she got the hang of offering Tino choice morsels in her open hand, the laving of his velvety wet tongue, the slight nipping of teeth and curling of lips was lovely. He sat on his haunches, once again fully erect, resting his head on her naked thigh in between bites. If she hadn’t been ravenous, she would have never been able to concentrate on eating. He was as happy to nibble the mushrooms and tomatoes as he was the bacon and eggs. The toast with honey forced him to lick the sweet stickiness off the tips of her fingers, even occasionally off her thigh when her efforts were clumsy with the excitement of having such an exquisite creature eating from her hand.

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

Tino scooted and wriggled himself until, at last, he sat between her legs, his humid breath warming her mons. With each morsel of food, he insinuated his waiting face a little closer to her pussy until her open palm with its offered titbit was practically resting against her pubis. When a particularly sticky morsel of toast ended up on the chair between her legs, he carefully licked up every bit from the chair, and then he continued lapping his way right on up between her legs.

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

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

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

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

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

christmas-jingle-bells-thumb17244964But Tino didn’t mind working for his breakfast. And by the time he had extricated the mushroom, she was completely convinced his tongue was prehensile. His face glistening with her juices, the mushroom pressed daintily between his lips, he slid up her sticky body and offered her the morsel with its unique sauce of their lovemaking. Together they gulped down the tangy fungus between gasps for breath, breath which seemed to be harder and harder to get as their meal continued.

She gulped a bite of toast, then wiped the honey and butter from the remains of it in circular motions around her nipples. Tino watched wide-eyed, his cock standing at full attention, his balls resting heavily on his thigh.

 

 

Migrations: Get Your Vicarious Road Trip FREE!

I’m very excited to announce that my hot romantic novella, Migrations, is FREE! For the next five days, exclusive on Amazon Kindle, you can download Migrations and  indulge vicariously in the hottest road trip you’ll ever take.

Travel is a change of context. Travel is also a break in continuity. We can hop on a plane and in a couple of hours be in a completely different context, a context that had nothing to do with us up until we step off that plane. We could, for all practical purposes, be stepping onto a different planet.

A road trip, however, is a whole different animal. When we make a road trip, we’re watching our context change minute by minute around us as we move through the landscape, and the continuity sort of stretches to contain us as we move along in the little self-contained environment we’ve created in our cars. It’s not quite the total break with context offered by a plane trip and it’s a strange stretch and warp of continuity. It’s travel with a more hands-on feel. It’s more of a time-released metamorphosis.

In my novella, Migrations, also available in the wonderful Traded Innocence anthology from Xcite Book’s Secret Library Series, Val Hastings would love nothing more than a break in continuity and a change of context. But she’s stuck travelling with her curmudgeonly elderly aunt and her do-gooder cousin, on the road trip from hell, as she calls it.

Enter the steamier-than-the-equator biker known only as Hawk, a mysterious man who specialises in nasty and delicious ways to relieve road-rage, and suddenly Val’s context and her continuity get a whole lot more interesting and a whole lot hotter.

Blurb:

VAL HASTINGS, assisted by her do-gooder cousin, SALLY CLINE, is shanghaied into driving their AUNT ROSE across the US to visit her son. What begins as the trip from hell turns into a sexy adventure when they find themselves sharing the interstate with a mysterious, leather-clad biker. Aunt Rose and Sally are convinced he’s up to no good. But after Val catches him mid-wank at a rest area, and he offers her some steamy help to make her journey more enjoyable, she’s convinced he’s her nasty saviour.

Is HAWK, the biker, a murder, a free spirit, or something else? Whatever he is, animal attraction wins out over caution, as he joins the ladies for a cross country romp that keeps Sally and Aunt Rose nervous and Val hotter than her overheating engine.

Excerpt:

Hawk heard it first. Val felt him tense. There was a shifting in the air, then the growing sound of distant cries and calls, accented by rattling woody trills. The calls of the sandhill cranes were nothing at all the trumpeting sounds she had heard when she’d studied whooping cranes down in Port Aransas. It was like nothing she’d ever heard before, growing louder and more heavily syncopated, until she could feel it deep between her hip bones, down at the base of her spine. They were engulfed in a rolling sea of percussive trills and calls that sounded like endless, anxious questions waiting to be answered, and the moon disappeared in a sea of fluttering wings. ‘Oh my God!’ She rose to a half-crouch and squinted into the chaos. ‘It’s the cranes. It’s the sandhills! You were right. They’re here!’

‘Looks like they’ve managed to slip in under curfew again.’ He slid an arm around her and settled her back on the ground as the first birds landed and began feeding only yards from where they sat.

‘They’re huge!’ She exclaimed. ‘I mean I knew that, but actually seeing them, being this close to them, well, that’s different, isn’t it?’ Then she added, not taking her eyes off the cranes. ‘Did you know they’re the oldest known bird species still surviving? They found a Miocene crane fossil right here in Nebraska, ten million years old. Can you imagine? And it was structurally identical to modern sandhill cranes. We’re looking at the ancient past, Hawk.’

‘They make me feel a bit like a time traveller,’ he said.

She nodded agreement, as a large male close by raised his red head and rattled his questioning call. ‘I think they could easily devour a greedy businessman – well chopped, of course.’ In spite of her tasteless joke, such an end for Beranger did seem like poetic justice.

‘They are the descendants of dinosaurs, after all, and a ravenous lot.’ Hawk said, looking out over the sea of cranes.

‘As far as some of them fly to reach their breeding grounds, a little extra protein certainly wouldn’t hurt.’ She pulled the jacket tight and let the feral aroma of leather and maleness caress her.

Another wave of cranes landed nearby. The air pulsated with warm bodies, the scent of distance and altitude still on their wings. As darkness settled, the fields around them seethed with need and urgency that brought the birds back to this same place year after year, generation after generation, millennia after millennia.

‘My aunt thinks you killed Beranger.’ Her boldness surprised her.

He laughed, cupping her jaw in a calloused hand and tracing her lower lip with his thumb. ‘I had to. You said it yourself, the birds could use the extra protein.’

She nipped the tip of his thumb playfully and looked around at the feeding cranes. ‘Bon appetit!’ She called, uttering a startled gasp when he pulled her down onto the grass, his mouth covering hers as he engulfed her in his warmth and his scent.

‘Is this payment for what I owe you?’ She whispered when he pulled away.

‘Only the first instalment.’ He pushed the jacket off her shoulder along with the straps of her tank top and bra and bathed the sensitive hollow of her collar bone in warm kisses and nibbles, causing her to squirm against him.

‘It’s a big one then? The debt I mean.’ She was finding it more and more difficult to think in coherent sentences as he cupped and caressed.

‘You could be in the hotel room with your auntie and cousin watching movies on demand.’

‘Enormous then,’ she groaned, pressing up against him.

‘Mmm. I doubt if you’ll ever be able to fully repay it.’ He insinuated one knee between her legs and wriggled and nestled until his groin pressed against hers, until she could feel the hardness of him through the rub of jeans against jeans. Then he went back to work on her mouth, his tongue dancing over hers and lapping at her hard pallet, as they rocked and shifted against each other, until the friction was exquisite.

He pulled away enough to shove her tank top up until her belly was bare, then he  kissed her just below the waist band of her bra where her ribs came together, causing her to inhale in tight little gasps. He licked and nuzzled his way down to her navel, while he opened her zipper and slid a hand inside the low waist band of her panties, clearing the way for his hungry mouth. She arched up to meet his kisses, as he slid her clothing down over her hips.

It felt as though she’d been waiting forever for this moment, as he caressed and suckled the landscape of her, exploring with his fingers, with his mouth, with his eyes, like Lewis and Clark discovering a new land, like Darwin discovering a new species.

The little moan that escaped his throat against her clit might have been from the feel of her so engorged and open and receptive, or it might have been from the feel of his heavy penis pressing through his jeans. Whatever the cause, she returned the moan and curled her fingers in his hair holding him to her undulating groin. The cranes were all around them, so close she could almost touch a feathered neck or a slender leg. She felt their singleness of purpose as though it were her own, and Hawk felt it too, she was sure he did.

He nuzzled and nipped and licked at the split of her, burying his face in the warm wetness of her, caressing her fullness with deep, expressive lavings. And when she was practically in a frenzy with the want of him, he pulled away and looked up into her eyes, his face glistening with her juices. ‘I don’t want to play this time, Val. I want the real thing. I want all of you. I want to be inside you.’

‘Me too,’ she gasped. ‘I want that too.’

And they were both on their knees fumbling with zippers and snaps, pushing and shoving at denim and cotton, all aflutter like the wings of the cranes around them. The need felt like a fast moving prairie fire, with too much heat to even notice the prickle of the grass and the scratch of last year’s dead vegetation still not quite surrendered to new growth.

She heard the tear of the condom wrapper, and as she kicked free of jeans and panties he was already sheathed and ready for her, settling her bare bottom back onto his open bomber jacket and pushing into her with a grunt, which ended in an inhaled breath sucked between his teeth. ‘Oh god,’ he sighed. ‘Oh god.’

She was slick and pouting, aching and heavy. She had been all day, ever since she first saw him stroking his cock behind the bathrooms at the rest area, and she took him with tight, yielding ease that rubbed and slid and gripped in all the right places.

She lifted her legs around his hips and he groped and kneaded her ass cheeks in an effort to pull her still further onto him. ‘You’re so deep and tight, and god, you feel better than anything,’ he breathed.

She grabbed his clenching buttocks, running trembling desperate fingers down the crack between, parting them, fondling them, teasing, making him suck air as her fingers brushed his anus and lingered to explore timidly.

His thrusting had become tight, stiff, manic, and she was practically off the ground, wrapped around him so tightly, digging white knuckled fingers into the tense muscle beneath his shoulder blades. All breath was gone, all thought was gone. All that was left was instinct, hunger, need. It erupted in harsh cries that caused a startled rustling of wings and a few muffled squawks in the sea of feathers and sinew, but little more. It was as though the birds somehow knew they were no threat. They continued to feed and settle in to roost as though the earth hadn’t moved, as though the fireworks of hormonal chemistry between two humans had nothing to do with them.

Buy Links:

Amazon.co.uk

Amazon.com

 

Birthday Party, Filthy Mouths and Hands-On Fun

Can you believe we’re almost through May? My, how this year has flown by. And at last sunshine! So you shouldn’t be too surprised that I’m going to give you a quick update and a juicy one-handed read excerpt for the last weekend in National Masturbation Month then I’m off to work on my farmer’s tan in the allotment.

Coffee Time Romance Fun

For those of you who haven’t been over to Coffee Time Romance yet, you still have time. I’ve been over there this whole month talking about Body Temperature and Rising, and all things paranormal and sexy. Stop by, read the sexy excerpts, join in the fun and if you leave a comment, you could win an eBook version of The Initiation of Ms Holly or The Pet Shop. Winner’s choice.

Happy Birthday Erotic Meet!

If you’re around London the 1st of June, THE party that will kick of June with a bang, and the place to be on the first is the Erotic Meet’s first birthday bash over at the Green Carnation in Soho.  Wow! Happy Birthday, Erotic Meet! A whole year of gathering of erotic creatives and sexy like-minded fun folk. Not to be missed if you can get there. Doors open at 6:00 with happy houre till midnight. Show starts at 8:00 with stellar entertainment and yummy giveaways, including a copy of The Pet Shop signed by the author herself , who is very excited to be included in the fun! Here’s the link! Creativity WILL be celebrated! Get thee a ticket and join the fun!

Filthy Mouths and Evil Tongues

 

Back for more of the naughtiest sexiest readings in London, I’ll be reading with the fabulous Filthy Mouths and Evil Tongues Ladies at Sh! Hoxton on Friday the 15th of June. The fun starts at 6:30 with drinkie-winks, then it’s rude reads all the way, with breaks to browse the fabulous Sh! stock of yumminess. On the naughtiness agenda: The Dragon King’s Daughter, Elizabeth N. Spire, Meg Philip, Mel Jones and yours truly.  A filthy time will be had by all!

Hands-On Fun

And finally, it’s the last weekend of National Masturbation Month, and if you’ve not been doing your part to celebrate self-love, then you’ve got a lot of missed celebrating to make up for. Best get with the programme. I’m all about encouragement of self-love on my site, so I’ll leave you with this very nasy self-love excerpt from my naughty novella, Migrations, which I’m very proud to say is in the Traded Innocence anthology of Xcite’s Secret Library. Enjoy! And happy hands-on!

Migrations Excerpt:

‘It’s the road trip from hell! I knew it would be. I just knew it!’ Val didn’t bother to

speak quietly. After what she’d been through, no one could possibly blame her for losing it and talking to herself. And this was just the beginning! How the hell was she going to survive this little misadventure all the way to Oregon? She glanced quickly over her shoulder as she stepped behind the bathrooms at the rest area, trying desperately to block out the memory of Aunt Rose accusing the elderly gentleman at the vending machine of stealing her change.

She needed to vent or she’d explode. Once behind the building she turned her face to

the wall and banged her head against it. ‘Why me? I’m not a bad person. I never murdered anyone, I always recycle, I volunteer for the autumn fucking bird count. Why, ‘she banged her head for emphasis.’ the hell’ bang bang bang. ‘Me?’ Bang, bang.

‘Sounds like you could use a good wank.’

She couldn’t have stopped the yelp that escaped her throat if she’d tried, but as she spun around to make a run for the car, what she saw stopped her in her tracks.

‘Sh!’ A man in a faded blue t-shirt and jeans that were even more faded raised a finger to his lips’ It was impossible not to notice that the other hand was occupied, wrapped around the big stiffy that looked as though it had parted his fly like Moses parting the Red Sea, and my, what a staff!

When he was sure he had her full attention, as if there was any doubt of that, he spoke. ‘Quiet.’ He glanced around quickly. ‘If word gets out,’ he nodded to his stretching cock, ‘everyone’ll be back here getting a little relief from the road. Though In your case,’ he leaned closer and she could see startling blue eyes peeking over the mirrored shades that slid down his sun-freckled nose, ‘ I reckon you need it more than most.’

She pressed her back against the wall and moaned, not taking her eyes off the fascinating handwork on his cock. ‘You saw then.’

He nodded and gave a little grunt and a flutter of sunbleached lashes as he lifted his balls free from the peek-a-boo squish of his fly. ‘And heard. Hard not to really.’

‘Fuck!’ She cursed.

He chuckled. ‘I never fuck on a first date, but I’m happy to choke the chicken in solidarity.’

She nodded to his efforts. ‘It really helps?’

‘Absolutely,’ he grunted at a particularly rough tugging of his cock. ‘Best kept secret in the world,’ he said following her gaze, giving his balls a smile and a grope as though he’d just realized they were there. ‘The world would be a much better place if everyone would just chill and treat themselves to a little self-love every now and again. Can you imagine the bliss? Go on, indulge yourself.’ He nodded to her trousers. ‘I’d say you could use the relief.’

She shook her head. ‘I don’t have time, Aunt Rose will be on me like a screaming banshee if she catches me.’

‘Of course you’ve got time. If I’m not mistaken, she took her copy of The National Enquirer into the bathroom with her, didn’t she? And your cousin, she is your cousin, isn’t she? Well, she’s on her cell phone with her kids, something about not pouring tomato soup in the toaster.’

‘Jesus, you heard?’

‘Sweet cheeks, everybody heard,’ he said with a tug on his schlong for emphasis. Trust me, the misdeeds of your cousin’s little angels and the condition of your auntie’s bowels are now common knowledge at this rest stop.’

‘Fuck,’ she said again, running a hand through her hair, now beginning to curl around her temples from the unseasonably warm spring heat.

‘Really, darlin’,’ he nodded again to her trousers. ‘It’ll make you feel better. I won’t look if you don’t want me to.’

Maybe it was just a testament to how desperate she was, or how loopy she had already become, but she opened her fly and stuck her hand down inside her panties. When she made contact, her breath caught and her body gave a little involuntary jerk.

Without missing a beat, he gave her an appreciative nod. ‘There now. That’s better, isn’t it? You wet?’

She nodded. ‘How’d you know?’

‘No surprise really. Anger and frustration can often be a turn-on. Well not a turn-on per-se, but the body compensates for the stress in the best way it knows to make itself feel better.’ He shrugged. ‘Plus watching someone else handle their junk usually will do it the trick too.’

‘Sh!’ she hissed. ‘Don’t talk, just touch it, and let me watch, and relieve my stress.’

He did as she asked, easing his jeans down enough that she could see the lovely straight lines of his hips perfectly balanced by the muscular swell of his ass-cheeks, which clenched and relaxed with each thrust. ‘What else,’ he grunted.

‘Huh?’

‘What else do you want to see? Not that I’m an exhibitionist or anything,’ his breath accelerated noticeably, ‘but I’m sympathetic to your circumstances, and right now this is so working for me.’

It wasn’t doing too badly for her either, as she slipped two fingers in between her swell and began to scissor them while her thumb went to work on her clit. ‘Turn around a little,’ she breathed. ‘I want to see your ass.’

He did as she asked, half bending over to give her an exquisite view, and she felt herself gush, as he spread his ass-cheeks. ‘Oh my!’ she gasped.

‘You like that, do you? You wanna see my back hole?’

‘Oh god yes.’

‘And you’d like me to finger it while I wank, wouldn’t you?’ He didn’t wait for her answer. And he really didn’t need to. Almost as though he knew what was going on in her panties, he stuck a thick middle finger into his mouth and sucked it until it was wet and shiny with his saliva. For a moment, she found what he was doing to his finger with his yummy mouth almost as hot as what he was doing to his cock. Through all of his efforts, his eyes, peeking over the mirrored sun shades, never left hers.

Watching her over his shoulder, making sure he was at just the right angle for her to see what was going on in front and behind, he bent over still further and spread his legs so that the twitch of his asshole was centre stage. With a tight breath released between his teeth, almost like he’d touched something hot, he eased his finger in to his back grip. ‘Ah, that’s nice,’ he breathed. ‘Such a tight fit, and my asshole’s so sensitive.’ Then he shoved it all the way in. His eyelids fluttered, his ass cheeks clenched and he positively growled and bucked against himself, tugging at his penis as though it were in serious need of subjugation.

Her panties were beyond wet, and she now gave herself the whole hand hump, four fingers shoving and wriggling inside her wet snatch while her palm exerted exquisite, almost painful pressure against her mons, which put the squeeze on her burgeoning clit. She shoved the other hand inside her blouse and maneuvered her left breast free from her bra, at least free enough that she could knead it while pinching and stroking the nipple until it was tight and engorged and raw.

‘What else,’ he gasped.

‘I want to see you come.’ Her voice was a harsh whisper, and she felt the blush crawl up her face that she would even ask such a thing. And yet, her pussy clenched against her fingers at the thought, and her clit surged. ‘I know you’re close. You look like you’re about to burst, so go ahead. I want to see you unload on the ground like the nasty man that you are. I want to watch you spurt.’ Jesus, what was the matter with her, talking like some street whore, but even as she spoke, she felt wet slippery approval from her cunt.

‘Your wish is my command,’ he grunted. Three hard jerks balanced by the finger digging at his asshole, and he shot thick white streamers of semen across the well-manicured grass.

 
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