In the Flesh Erotic Reading Night Relaunches in London

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One of America’s rudest reading events, In the Flesh, relaunches in London later this month giving well-known erotic writers the chance to share their work with their readers.

Sponsored by Xcite Books and hosted by bestselling erotic memoirist Suzanne Portnoy, In The Flesh London will be held on the last Wednesday of every month at the Alley Cat Bar & Club on Denmark Street starting on 29th May from 6.30pm – 8.30pm.

The first session features readings by prolific erotica authors Liz Coldwell (former editor of FORUM magazine), KD Grace, Jilly Boyd and will be hosted by Suzanne Portnoy, author of  The Butcher, The Baker, The Candlestick Maker: The Intimate Adventures of a Woman Who Can’t Say No.

For four years In the Flesh was a popular monthly event on the New York street calendar. Curated by erotic writer editor Rachel Kramer Bussel it In the Flesh logofeatured the best writers in erotica from the US & UK.

In The Flesh London hostess Suzanne Portnoy, who read at the New York event, said: ‘Although it held its final reading in 2010, In the Flesh is fondly remembered by anyone who has ever written erotica. Authors would share their stories to get the audience hot and bothered. It was a great place where established and new writers/bloggers of erotica could share their work in a relaxed, convivial atmosphere. Many UK based authors performed there and now we are bringing it back to the heart of London, where we hope it will take on a new lease of life.’

The venue The Alley Cat is located in the basement of what was once the famous Regent Sound Studios on Denmark Street. Denmark Street has an illustrious history, where the Rolling Stones, the Kinks, Elton John and David Bowie recorded songs but also where serial murderer Denis Nilson worked in the Job Centre on the corner.

Details:

Date: 29th May

Time: 6.30-8.30pm

Place: The Alley Cat Bar & Club,4 Denmark Street, London WC2

What: Erotic Reading Night sponsored by Xcite Books,.

Get your tickets here, FREE! http://www.eventbrite.co.uk/event/6634737679/estw#

Come join us for rude reading pleasure and lots of surprises.

The Many Faces of Moorita Part 2

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Moorita 6I’d like to welcome back the fabulous Moorita Encantada. For those of you who missed Part I of this interview, Moorita is not only a fabulous performer with an amazing creative mind, but she’s also my  co-conspiritor for the play, The Eye of The Beholder.

Moorita is a versatile cabaret and variety performer, and an unforgettable stage persona. Her acts combine a professional touch of a trained theatre performer and musician with an outstanding originality and unrestrained creative expression.

Wild, unpredictable and ever surprising, she has already brought a breath of fresh air to cabaret stages in London and beyond. Her work has been applauded at UK’s best cabaret nights and venues such as Madame Jojo’s, Proud Cabaret, Volupté and The Wet Spot Leeds, as well as internationally. But the fulfilment of her bigger artistic vision is only about to happen..

KD: Moorita, as I told you when we began this project, it’s all new to me. I’ve never written for theatre of any kind. I’m a Moorita 8novelist, but fundamentally a story teller is a story teller, and a story told through the medium of performance as well as words is even more powerful. What do you think it takes to translate a story from the written word to a stage performance? What’s most important?

Moorita: From a perspective of a theatre performer I would say that precision, conciseness of the story line and integrity of characters is key. Both need to stir different emotions in the audience, they need to demand to be followed with attention. At the same time – maybe even more so in performance than literary works – the audience needs to be challenged in order to stay engaged. Art within a performance is so delicate and intangible, it’s what happens between the actor and the viewer within a certain time frame, and once it happened, then and there, it’s irretrievable. This means the performance is incredibly prone to a variety of things that might go wrong. Strong, integral story and well sketched characters are the spine of performance, the precious certainty in the middle of all the variables that holds it all together.

KD: As most people know by now, the story we’ve chosen to tell is the story of Medusa and Perseus, from Greek mythology, but with a very wicked, very exciting twist of our own. Could you tell us what attracted you to this particular story, other than me saying please, please, please can we do it!

Moorita: I’m very fond of mythology myself, after all, this – together with holy texts of different religions – is what our culture is built on. What’s amazing about the Bible, Quran, I Ching and Greek mythology is different layers of meanings waiting to be uncovered by a keen reader. What can be particularly satisfying is digging deeper into characters and stories that have a commonly accepted stereotype. One of such stories is the story of Perseus and Medusa, a mythical monster which ends up the way monsters are supposed to end up – dying a death that supports a “good” cause.

On second glance though, there seems to be more to Medusa, there is some controversy and a tragic story behind her becoming a monster (she was raped by Poseidon in Athena’s temple and consequently “punished” by the goddess). Yet another look, and a fascinating character emerges – together with a whole lot of questions about what the real story behind the myth might be, or how the well-known story could be told differently. After I read your short story Stones from the anthology, Seducing the Myth, edited by Lucy Felthouse, I was hooked on the idea. I knew this would work incredibly well on stage.

KD: Moorita, my vision of the play was, for a long time, just to get it written down and give you something to work with. Oh yes, I was nervous about it! But now that it’s on paper, now that you’ve actually performed one fabulous scene from it to rave reviews, I might add, what is your vision for the road ahead?

  Moorita 4Moorita: Apart from being a mad creative genius 😉 I also have a pragmatic side, fully aware of what it takes to make complex, unproven things happen, and I’m very results oriented. My experience of creating great acts suggests that after a glorious moment of getting a key creative insight, there always comes a “reality test” when things start to feel a little awkward and you are no longer dead sure you are a mad genius. Only truly good ideas (coupled with big enough balls) can stand that test and get implemented with success.

After my performance at Sh! I’m convinced that the play, once on stage, will not only take burlesque to a new level, but, quite simply, will also be a box office success. I now have a clear vision of next steps: break the script into separate scenes that can be performed on their own, find fabulous performers to fill in the gaps between the words with their charisma, and let each of these acts defend itself in front of a real audience.

KD: Wow! I get goosebumps just thinking about it! Moorita, I happen to know for a fact that you’ll be giving another taste of Medusa, and The Eye of the Beholder in Scarborough for the fabulous Smut by the Sea event on the 22nd of June. Can you tell us a little bit about that and maybe tease us a bit with what you have in mind?

Moorita12Moorita: Oh I can definitely tease about Smut or indeed anything else for longer than you’d be able to take it 😉 My ambition for the 22nd of June is to perform, for the first time, a scene between two characters from the play. Without revealing all (just yet!) expect a serious sparkle between them and, quite possibly, some stunning Shibari bondage.

KD:  Oooh! Sounds fabulous! I can hardly wait! So, Moorita, my partner in crime and my friend, it’s been an exciting ride so far, and now, where do we go from here?

Moorita: Heh, I suppose it’s high time to get serious about taking over the world with our artistic vision! 😉 And, as Garbage put it in a song, “the world is not enough, but it is just the perfect place to start my love”.

KD: Thank you so much for your time, Moorita. I’m most definitely looking forward to the next chapter of world domination Moorita & KD style! And if any of you lovely readers are in the Scarborough area on the 22nd of June and have a hankering for some Smut by the Sea with a sexy helping of burlesque and theatre Moorita style, come join us!

Breathe You In by Lily Harlem

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Breathe You InBlurb

Soul-aching desire was just the beginning!

If the road to Heaven starts in Hell then I was ready to start climbing my way out and Ruben Strong was the man to accompany me. With his devastating good looks, seductively sexy charm and lust for adrenaline he was sure to make it a sensual and erotic experience as well as one to re-awake the passionate, throw-caution-to-the-wind woman I’d once been.

I’d given Ruben something, though, without him realizing, and that gift had come from the man I’d loved before. But I couldn’t tell Ruben. I had to keep that a tight secret even as our naked bodies wound together, sought out pleasure and hit the dizzy heights of ecstasy as one. Because Ruben had my husband’s heart, literally, and that heart was still in love with me, so it seemed, and now I was in love with Ruben.

Emotions tangled with bliss, and fears were locked away as I surrendered to the touch of Ruben’s hands, the taste of his skin and the sounds of his pleasure. I couldn’t deny that Ruben had brought me back to life the same way I had him and there was no way I was giving up that feeling, not for anyone.

Reader advisory – Breathe You In is a romance with themes of love, loss and hope and contains several explicit sex scenes.

 

Excerpt

My new flat felt alive, as if it were a real home. The sweet, grassy breeze ambled from the living room to the kitchen. The pan on the stove was bubbling away, creating steam that clung to the window. The tangy smell of the onions I’d fried filled my nose, and I could hear the TV, only the news, someone talking, but knowing Ruben was in the living room, that it wouldn’t be empty and soulless when I moved from one room to the other, created a feeling of hope in me—one that made me warm and content for the first time in a long time.

I also felt I knew Ruben better for having seen a glimpse into his old life. Understood how much he’d had to change because of his illness. Maybe he was right. Perhaps he would go back to his old job one day. Return to a wild, hedonistic, fast life of racing and globe trotting and leggy women with perfect bodies. I couldn’t show him my old life, or ever go back to it, but it had been nice to see his.

I flicked the pasta off the boil and stood in the kitchen doorway, one hand on the frame, pushing my hair from my face with the other.

Ruben looked up. Stared at me. He pulled in a deep breath and frowned.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

“Yes, I…”

I didn’t move. “What?”

“It’s just…”

“Tell me?”

He smiled. “You’ll think I’m being stupid.”

“No I won’t.”

“I had a dream last night, it just came back to me, really vivid.”

“What was it about?” I straightened.

“You.”

“Me?” I couldn’t deny the little thrill that word gave me, to think I’d been in this handsome man’s dream.

“You were stood, just like that, in a doorway, holding the side, fiddling with your hair.”

“Whose doorway?”

He silenced the TV. Put the remote on the tall table by the sofa. “Mine. My bedroom.”

“I see.”

He trailed his gaze down my body. Licked his lips.

“And what was I wearing?” I asked. Part of me was desperate to know, the other part afraid to ask. This was a new way for me to be with anyone other than Matt.

“White,” he said. “You were in white.”

“A dress?”

He smiled, shook his head. “Oh, no, white stockings with lace around your thighs. White teeny, tiny knickers and a corset?style top, you know that…” He put his cupped hands on his chest and smiled. “That made you look really pretty here.”

“Sounds like a very detailed dream.”

“It was. It was hot.” He nodded, bit on his bottom lip. “You were hot.”

A tremble started in my stomach and moved lower. Ruben thought I was hot. Hot enough to dream in detail about me. That in itself was like being kissed passionately. It turned my attraction for him to top level; it made me feel like the woman I had been once.

I even remembered a white outfit like that. It was something I’d taken on honeymoon to surprise Matt with one night. I could almost see his face again. His eyes instantly heavy with lust, his lips moist where he’d licked them the moment I’d appeared in the doorway.

Ruben was wearing the same look now, and he shifted on the sofa the same way Matt had shifted on the bed.

Taking a deep breath, I walked toward Ruben, wishing I had that outfit on, and straddled his lap. I dug my knees into the cushions and I rested my hands on his shoulders, let my bum settle on his thighs.

“Tell me more?” I said in what I hoped was a suitably sexy voice.

Ruben swallowed, frowned a little and looked into my eyes. “We were alone, there was only us there. It was warm, you smelled of fruit—papaya, melon, all things sweet.”

I smiled. “This is a very specific dream.”

He touched my cheek with the back of his index finger. “I know, and it’s all flooding back to me like it was a real memory.”

“Maybe we should make it real, one day.”

“I’d like that.” He leaned forward and touched his lips to mine. “You have no idea how gorgeous you are, do you?” he said with a smile.

“I’m not gorgeous, not really.”

He jerked his head. “Why would you say that?”

“Well, the women you must have had, you know, when you and Dean Cudditch were out together, swanning around glamorous places.”

“That was just fun. Messing about, there was never anyone serious. I was too busy traveling the world, being part of the winning team.”

“But weren’t they…?”

“They weren’t you. Katie. Matt must have told you all the time how beautiful you are. I get the impression from you that he was a great bloke, a wonderful husband who made you feel special and treasured.”

I nodded. “He was, he did, but…” I glanced downward, kept that delicate balance of mine on the straight and narrow. “But now, well, I’m a bit thinner than I was and smiles don’t come so easy.”

“I’ve seen you smile plenty since I met you, and each one has gone into my happy memory bank.”

His words made me smile again.

“See, beautiful,” he said.

“Thank you. It’s nice to hear someone say that.”

“It’s nice to have a sexy woman sitting on my lap.” He kissed me, softly, and stroked his fingers through my hair.

I broke the kiss and touched his hair too. I loved the longish strands and the way they flowed through my fingers like fluid silk.

He slid his hands down the column of my neck and reached for the first button on my work blouse. As he undid it, his smile slipped, and his eyebrows hung heavy in concentration.

My heart tripped. My nipples tightened. The dark look in his eyes was so sexy it went straight to my head, like a shot of alcohol.

He undid the next button, and the next, his jaw seeming to get tenser with each twist of his fingers.

I sat absolutely still, the tops of his thighs pressing into the backs of mine. Watching his face, each blink, each slight twitch of his cheek and the way he dampened his lower lip with the tip of his tongue. It was all making me want to grab him for a kiss but equally kept me frozen, fascinated.

When all the buttons were undone, he looked up at my face. It was a silent question.

I glanced out of the window—nothing but treetops.

I nodded.

Carefully, he slid the blouse off my shoulders, revealing my white lacy bra. It had a small daisy in the center of the cups and one at the base of each strap.

“That’s so much better than my dream,” he whispered, his breath like a caress on my chest. “And you are perfect.”

Words danced on my tongue. Words that wanted to explain that I used to be a cup size bigger and filled out my bra better. That maybe I would again one day. But I held them in, swallowed them down. They had no place in this moment with Ruben. Besides, he looked happy with what he saw.

I reached behind myself, unclipped the hook of my bra, let it fall open, but then held it in place with one arm across my chest.

“Katie, if you want to wait…?”

“No, this is fine. More than fine, I want this.” I let the straps slide off my arms and tossed the bra to the floor. “It feels right with you.”

And it did. I’d worried that I’d feel like an adulterous woman being with another man. But with Ruben, well, it was different. Matt was part of it. Part of Ruben. Part of us.

Ruben collected the slight weight of the undersides of my breasts in his hands. Watching his own movements, he parted his lips and his features softened.

His touch was electric and sent a plethora of forgotten sensations blasting through my chest, spiking my nipples and making my flesh feel heavy and engorged.

I pressed into him, just a little, needing more but not wanting to appear greedy. Fearing if I did that, I’d push myself into a wall and cause the bubble to shatter.

He rubbed his thumbs over my nipples. They were tiny stalks, erect and tight. I stuttered in a breath, the stimulation arousing and wonderful.

He glanced up at me. “Are you okay?”

I nodded. “Yes, I like you touching me.”

“I like touching you.” The left side of his mouth rose into a languid half grin.

He moved his right hand to the center of my back. Held me firm as he leaned forward and took my left nipple into his mouth.

I gasped and ran my hands into his hair, held him close and arched my spine. Damn, it had been so long since I’d enjoyed this feeling. It was heavenly. Releasing a breath, I watched as the huff of air from my lungs shifted the hair on the top of his head. He moved to the other breast, feeding my nipple into his mouth and tweaking it with his tongue. He massaged and gently squeezed the now damp breast he’d just given attention to.

A type of fever was growing in me. But it was fever of the good kind. Between my legs felt heavy, needy. I had the urge to move just a fraction farther forward in Ruben’s lap and see if the erection I suspected was there was as hard as it had been yesterday.

I stayed still.

Ruben kissed up my sternum, my neck, and found my mouth. He was still fondling my right breast as he kissed me, wetly, hungrily and with a little less control than yesterday.

Running my hand down his chest and over his belly, I found his groin. The folds of denim could do nothing to hide the swell of his hard cock. I itched to hold it, release it. Learn the shape and weight of him the way he’d just done to me. I popped the top button, but as I did so, he grabbed my wrist, pulled back from our kiss.

“Katie,” he said slightly breathlessly.

“What’s wrong?” I stilled.

He looked away.

“We can be ourselves together,” I said gently. “Tell me.”

“I like that.” He gently pinched my chin with his fingers and thumb.

“What?”

“That there is a ‘we’. Us together.”

“Me too.” I grazed my lips over his. “So tell me.”

He nodded and released my wrist. “It’s just, well, I want you to do whatever it is you want to do, but…”?He shut his eyes, as though frustrated with himself.

“But what?”

“But, well, I won’t deny it, I’m a bit anxious, you know, about doing this, with this.” He placed his hand on his chest.

“With your new heart?”

He nodded.

I took hold of the bottom of his t-shirt and peeled it up and over his head, threw it down by my bra. “This heart,” I said, placing a kiss over his scar, “is a good, strong heart that can handle me just fine.”

“I’m sure it will be okay it’s just…”

“You want to take it slow?” I shrugged. “I want to take it slow too. We don’t have to go all the way, not if it’s too soon. We can have some other fun.”

“God, you must think I’m a wimp.” A flash of wounded pride crossed his face.

“There’s nothing wimpy about that package you’ve got in your pants, mister. It’s feeling like a whole lot of hot, hard man to me.”

He laughed. “You always say the right thing, you know that?”

I smiled and pressed my palm over his cock, squeezed through the denim.

His face fell serious. “That feels good. Your hand on me.”

“I can make it feel even better, if you want me to.”

He paused, then nodded. “Yes. That’s what I want.”

I wriggled and slipped between his legs, so mine were folded on the floor and my shoulders were between his thighs. I began to undo the buttons on his jeans.

Lily Harlem Bio

Lily Harlem is a multi-published, award-winning author of contemporary erotic romance. She lives in the UK with her husband and a bunch of animals, all rescued, and loves to spend her days immersed in imagination.

Her books are a mixture of full-length novels and short stories, some are one offs, some are sequels or part of a series (all can be enjoyed as stand-alone reads). What they each have in common are colorful characters travelling on everyone’s favorite journey — falling in love. If the story isn’t deliciously romantic and down and dirty sexy, it won’t be written, at least not by Lily. So with the bedroom door left well and truly open you are warned to hang on for a steamy, sensual ride – or rides as the case might be!

Links

Buy Links for Breathe You In

Amazon US

Amazon UK

Lily Harlem Links

Website http://www.lilyharlem.com/

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

Twitter https://twitter.com/lily_harlem

Facebook http://en-gb.facebook.com/people/Lily-Harlem/100003519563064

Facebook author page http://www.facebook.com/pages/Lily-Harlem-author-page/200182030094568

Pinterest http://pinterest.com/lilyharlem/

Goodreads http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4070110.Lily_Harlem

Google+ https://plus.google.com/u/0/106837751333678531161/posts

Good Enough to Trust (Good Enough, Book 2 – Going Back) by Zara Stoneley

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Good Enough to TrustAn erotic romance, including menage, M/F/M and sex outdoors.

Do you trust the boy you loved, or the man you might?

Sophie has only one thing on her New Year’s resolution list – sorting out her life.

Losing her parents was hard, blaming herself hurt more – but was it really her fault, or was accepting the guilt easier than facing up to the truth?

Retracing her steps was never going to be easy, risking her heart again is even harder – and when there’s two men to choose from will it be easier to trust the man she’s never stopped loving, or the one that might give her the new start she needs?

Available from – Amazon (UK), Amazon (US)

EXCERPT

“No, because I’m not. Are you?” He didn’t wait for my answer. Just gently propelled me backwards until my back met the soft covering of the lichen-covered rocks and my hips tilted forward until I could feel the heat of his cock pressed hard against me.

“I’ve missed you so much, Sophie.” His hand slipped under my T-shirt burning a molten path up my body that left me whimpering. “Have you come back to torture me, show me what I’ve missed out on?”

I shook my head dumbly, because right now my brain hadn’t got the capacity to think, to answer questions, to do anything but pander to my body’s reactions.

“You shouldn’t have come back.” His voice was hoarse, his hand closed around my heavy breast, his thumb brushing over a nipple I knew was hard, but he was looking at me. Straight to the heart as they say.

“I had to.”

“Shit, Sophie.” And when he kissed me it wasn’t the exploration of yesterday it was hard, physical in a way that made me gasp, controlling and yet demanding, as though he had to catch up on all the years in between.

And it made me cry.

I clung to him, clung as though I was afraid he’d go, even though his hard body was pressed against mine, his mouth claiming mine. I could taste my salty tears as our teeth clashed, as his fingers meshed into my hair, as the hunger we’d both kept under control erupted. And I was shaking, trembling with need and anticipation as I tasted the lust in his mouth, felt the want in his body.

He grunted as the button of my jeans gave way for him and his hand forced its way into my panties, his fingers slipping into my wet channel. I lifted my leg, wrapped it round him, my hand on his face as we drank from each other. And all I could do was rock against him, clutch at him, lick him and kiss him as the tears gradually slowed to a stop and a hunger that scared me took its place.

***

To read a longer excerpt visit Zara’s website.

Not Her Type by Kay Jaybee

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Not Her TypeBlurb:

When Jenny’s regular film courier, John, reveals how she has become the center of his sexual dream world, Jenny’s quiet existence is thrown into an arena of desire that she thought she’d long since abandoned.

One unexpected, head swimming romp later, and Jenny is left wondering if her courier will ever visit her again, and if he does, will he mention the hot sex they had on her living room floor that Tuesday afternoon, or will he pretend that it hadn’t happened?

When the following Tuesday arrives and John reappears on Jenny’s doorstep, the scene is set for a continuation of intensely kinky weekly meetings. There is only one problem. John really really isn’t Jenny’s type…

Available from:
Amazon UK
Amazon US

britbabes_kink_hotnraunchy_4Extract:

What the hell am I doing? I’m a good girl; I just don’t do things like this.

A tiny fraction of Jenny’s conscience screamed at her. The remainder of her brain sent her hands on a thorough exploration of the densely haired chest that had unexpectedly appeared from beneath her companion’s polo-shirt The fact that Jenny had never liked men with hairy chests seemed irrelevant.

Standing in front of her, diving a hand under Jenny’s top, John squeezed her left nipple hard, wonderfully hard, making her squeal with pain-tingling gratification. Removing her shirt at top speed, John freed her breasts from their confinement.

Moving as if on auto-pilot, Jenny’s fingers visited the waistband of his trousers, but in her haste she couldn’t get his belt undone. Rescuing her from her embarrassment with a smile, John mumbled something about it always being difficult to open and undid it himself. Jenny barely heard him as a neat pair of charcoal grey boxers appeared, swiftly followed by—Oh My God—the most beautiful dick she had seen in years – perhaps ever.

As she knelt before him, the voice in Jenny’s head continued its rant, reminding her that she hated giving blowjobs. Since her first experience as a college student, she had liked neither the taste of cock nor the sensation of being gagged. Now, however, working on instincts she’d never known she had, Jenny took John deep into  her throat. She felt his fingers drag urgently through her knotty brown hair, raking her scalp as she greedily worked him around her mouth.

‘Hell, girl, have you any idea how often I’ve dreamt of you doing this?’ John confessed. ‘Night after night I wank about you, about you holding me in your throat like this.’

Jenny was consumed with a perverse pride as she listened to John’s words,  wondering if she should admit to the stolen moments she’d spent alone with a silver vibrator and her own filthy imaginings – imaginings contrary to her normal fantasies, imaginings that often featured him.

His penis felt fantastic in her mouth, but the restless ache in Jenny’s pussy was becoming unbearable, and she pulled away, panting. The instant she let go of his shaft, John tugged her back to her feet and grasped her butt, kneading it in a way that would give her bruises for days to come, while kissing her as if his life depended on it.

Conveniently forgetting that she didn’t like the feel of stubble against her skin, Jenny relished the burn of his unshaven face grazing her, scraping her cheeks as their lips and teeth clashed together.

Her head buzzed, her nipples were tickled by his chest hairs, and Jenny began to feel as if she were overdosing on desire. She badly wanted to slow everything down, but at the same time, she needed to go faster. She wasn’t far from climax, and the mere idea of their illicit situation was enough to send Jenny to the very edge of orgasm.

Recognizing how close she was, John shoved his customer’s knickers unceremoniously to her ankles. ‘I want to see you on your hands and knees,’ he ordered.

Sinking against the carpet as instructed, Jenny’s breathing snagged as she heard the sharp rip of a condom packet being opened. Seconds later, Jenny found her courier’s thick cock sliding into her from behind. She was about to tell him how fantastically full she felt when John wiped all coherent thought from Jenny’s head by jamming his thumb up her arse.

Nuzzling his mouth against Jenny’s neck, John thrust against her, holding her hips as they frantically moved together. Trembling, Jenny’s knees began to buckle and her elbows quaked. Seeing she was about to collapse to the floor, John eased out of her body and flipped her onto her back before plunging his dick inside her again. She clung onto his tattooed arms (ignoring her lifelong aversion to body art), relishing  the glorious warmth of her orgasm as he shot his spunk into her naked body.

As their breathing levels returned to normal, John knelt close to Jenny, teasing out the springy curls of her hair as he spoke. ‘I’m sorry Jen. I don’t like just walking out on you, but I have to go. I’m behind with my rounds.’

Jenny watched her courier dress with lightning speed, leaving in a flurry of promises and assurances that he’d return the following week.

Find Kay Jaybee here: