Guest Blogger Zara Stoneley Tells Us About Her New Novel, Forfeit

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I’d like to welcome Zara Stoneley to A Hopeful Romantic. Zara is stopping by on her blog tour to tell us about her new novel, Forfeit. 

 

Wow, it’s so exciting to be here talking about my book. I’ve only been writing erotica for a short time and I’m a bit overwhelmed that I’m now published, and talking about it with such an amazing, established author!

I thought today I’d try and give you a bit of insight into the characters in Forfeit and where they came from.

Forfeit is very much about control, and relinquishing it, and I knew from the start that the story would only work if I had a heroine who knew her mind and was normally ultra controlled. This meant I needed a hero who could be dominant, knew what he wanted, and was determined but also very understanding. And so along came Cat and Brent.

In a lot of romances, erotic and non-erotic, it is the hero who is the damaged party, who needs the understanding and the love of the heroine to mend him. But I wanted to shift the emphasis away from this kind of relationship. This story is mainly about Cat, and it is Cat who has a real issue about being in control. And if you need to be in control it’s normally for a reason….

Cat has done what a lot of people do when they’ve had bad experiences in the past – they lock them away, bottle them up, build barriers so that no-one can uncover them and they can’t happen again. She’s not a loser though, her experiences have coloured her view on life but she’s realistic, she’s an independent career girl who has dealt with the past, locked it up and thrown away the key. But by throwing away the key she’s thrown away a part of herself.

So why is Brent the man for her? Because he’s not the kind of guy who will ever settle for second best, he wants all of Cat – mind, body and soul, but he recognises that until she accepts herself she’s not going to relinquish control and let him explore those deep dark corners.

I loved writing about Cat, loved the way Brent stuck with her even though it scared him a bit too and the only reason I hated saying good bye at the end of the story was that I felt I hadn’t really told much of Brent’s story. He’s got a bad boy reputation, but once he meets Cat he can’t help caring, which proves that who you really are wins out in the end… but maybe that’s a story for another day.

Excerpt

He raised her hand to his mouth, sucked long and hard on each finger in turn. ‘But then you turned all ice maiden on me and I never could resist a challenge.’ His voice had dropped to a husky drawl, and then he smiled, a lazy smile that turned up the heat from simmer to boil.

She swallowed, trying not to react to the sensations he was driving through her body. ‘So this is just about a challenge?’

‘Oh, I think it’s gone far beyond that, don’t you, darling?’

His hand was firm under her chin, tilting her face up so she met his gaze. ‘Do you trust me?’

She nodded wordlessly, already feeling that familiar tingle running through her body at his touch. He’d left her feeling awkward at the pub, making her raise questions that shouldn’t be raised. Now the softness of his gaze, the almost tender way he touched her, sent a shiver of unease mingled with a desperate need right through her body. She’d given her body permission to enjoy the pure, unbridled lust he inspired in her, but her emotions were different, and the want that tugged at her was more than just primal right now.

‘I don’t want anything you don’t want to give, Cat.’ His voice was soft as though he knew. He leant forward, his lips skating over hers, and then he was slowly unbuttoning her top. He eased back as he let the fabric slip from her shoulders, his eyes drawing her nipples to hard peaks that scraped against the lace of her bra. Two warm hands settled on her shoulders, then ran slowly down over her breasts, splaying out to her waist as though he was sculpting the body that stood before him. She felt the sigh that eased out of her taking with it any lingering unease. She loved the touch of his hands, the dark look that clouded his eyes; wanted just to be here. Whatever the cost.

There was the softest hint of a smile on his generous mouth, a slight parting of lips that drew her finger to them. His mouth closed instantly at her touch, his teeth holding her still, his tongue caressing the fingertip for a moment, and a thrill ran through her, sending her stomach muscles into delicious spasms.

ForfeitBlurb

Cat’s life is falling apart – her boyfriend’s dumped her, she’s lost her home and she’s about to quit her job. Her boss, Brent, has a solution: become his wife for a year, to help him land a big promotion. But Cat’s had a taste of Brent before, and she knows he’s a bad boy who loves women and leaves them. So she agrees to marry him, but tells him there’s to be no sex. He adds his own condition: if she as much as talks to another man in that time, she must pay, by acting out 12 of Brent’s kinkiest sex fantasies. When she breaks the rule, the forfeit is on: but opening up and letting Brent into her heart, as well as her bed, could be the most dangerous game of all …

Available from – Xcite Books, Amazon (UK), Amazon (US), Barnes & Noble, All Romance eBooks and all other good e-book sellers.

About the author

Zara is a writer and lover of all things romantic, from the sensual to the sexual, who knows that naughty can be nice. She lives in the UK, but whenever she can she heads off in search of some sunshine and inspiration for her stories.

She love sexy high heels…good food….good wine….music…coffee (lots and lots of coffee)… and Italy. All things Italian from the countryside to the culture, the wine to the food…and of course the sexy men.

She’s been a consultant, a teacher, a mother, a wife, a lover… and has always been a writer and she’d love to hear from you.

Where you can find her-

Blog: http://zarastoneley.blogspot.co.uk/

Twitter: @ZaraStoneley

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/ZaraStoneley

Email – zarastoneley@gmail.com

Justine Elyot Shares the Story Behind Game

Blog, Guest Blogger, New Releases

It’s totally my pleasure to welcome back one of my very favourite naughty writers and all around fab Chick , Justine Elyot. And wow, has she got a scorching excerpt for us from her new novel, Game! Enjoy!

Got Game?

By Justine Elyot

I’ve had this book planned for a long time. It’s a sequel, you see, to a story I started writing in 2008. That book was published in 2009 by Black Lace and On Demand has maintained a rather startling level of popularity ever since, even though Black Lace disappeared from the market immediately afterwards.

I thought I might pitch it to the original commissioning editor when he moved to Xcite Books a few months later, but in the event, I decided to go with The Business of Pleasure instead. By the time that came out, he was gone (again) and the idea was sidelined in favour of other projects.

Another year went by and, hey presto! He popped up again, inviting me to submit something to HarperCollins brand new Mischief line. This time, Lloyd and Sophie were going to get their encore, and here they are, starring in their own story.

(Game cover)

I have a soft spot for Sophie and Lloyd because they happened by accident. I love it when events overtake me during the writing of a story and something very much better than what I originally planned comes out them. I was going to end On Demand with Sophie getting together with her much-crushed-on Chase, who had been keeping her at arm’s length for various reasons relating to past disappointments.

But when I was a little way into the pool orgy scene, Lloyd and Sophie’s fabulous dynamic of lust-disguised-under-hostility swept all aside and had to be elaborated upon. Thus, they ended up together.

I say ‘ended up’, but their story had only begun. I knew that Sophie had a lot of emotional baggage to unpack before she could really settle, and Game is all about that unpacking process. Which makes it sound deadly dull. I must reassure you at this point that there is a lot of hot sex in this book, and some pretty wild surprises.

Here’s an excerpt:

Lloyd rears up and pulls out of me, running a hand through his hair and shutting his eyes for a moment, re-orientating.

‘Shower, then.’ He picks up his clothes, frowns at the terrible state of his jacket and gives me an encouraging nod. ‘Oh dear,’ he says, clicking his tongue. ‘Can’t you stand? Poor afflicted thing.’

‘Shut up, of course I can stand.’ I swing my legs over the side and give a fair impression of Bambi’s first few upright seconds. Lloyd swoops forward and helps me. ‘So gallant, proper Sir Walter Raleigh, aren’t you?’

From the kitchen corner, Sasha snorts.

‘Are you two always like this?’ she asks, without turning around.

I pick up my neatly-folded clothes and hug them to my chest.

‘Always.’

In the shower, Lloyd directs the water over my breasts and my sticky thighs.

‘You didn’t fail then,’ he says, sounding disappointed.

‘Did you think I would?’

‘I need to up my game.’

The jets spray on to my breasts, tingling my nipples. Lloyd cups the underside of my breasts, holding them in place while he keeps the shower head no more than an inch above them.

‘What’s next?’ I ask, flexing my toes, splashing them in the lovely warm water. ‘Sex while parachuting from a plane? In a canoe going over a waterfall? In space?’

He puts the shower head back in its cradle, takes the bottle of gel cleanser, squirts it into his hand, lathers it up around my breasts and stomach and shoulders.

‘Yeah,’ he says, with an enigmatic look. ‘You keep thinking along those lines, Soph.’

‘What do you mean?’

He smothers me with bubbling foam and pulls me against him so our chests slip and slide together. Water rains into our mouths while we kiss, leaking into the cracks of lips, dripping off our noses, clogging up our eyelashes.

He turns me around and washes my back and bottom, very thoroughly, far more thoroughly than is quite necessary.

‘I mean what I mean,’ he says, letting the suds slip down the crack of my arse, parting the cheeks, massaging the slightly stinging soap inside.

‘As Confucius would say. What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘It’s supposed to mean what it’s supposed to mean.’

I try to slap him, but it isn’t easy when you’re facing the wrong way and he has his hands on your bum. I manage an awkward collision of elbow (mine) and hip (his) and reap my inevitable reward.

‘Ouch!’ I always forget that a smack on a wet bottom is worth about three on a dry one.

‘Impatient,’ he reproves, keeping me close and tight with an arm around my ribs. Something semi-hard pushes into my right buttock, distracting me from the newly-laid sting. ‘All will be revealed in time.’

I lean my head back on his shoulder, looking up while he looks down.

‘You know, I really hate you, Lloyd.’

He nuzzles his nose against my cheek, kissing the space beneath my ear.

‘Mmm, I know you do. That’s why you’re always so wet for me.’

‘That’s because I’m in the shower.’

‘Not all the other times. All the dozens of scores of hundreds of other times. All those times you’ve begged me, on your wide-open knees…’

‘That’s because I’m trying to kill you with sex. I’ll do it one day.’

‘Mmm, best assassination technique ever.’

His hands are low now, fingers moving down with the trickles of water, flowing and meeting at the delta of my sex. He holds me by my cunt and bites down into the softness of my neck.

I give in to it. My body knows no other way. I spread my feet further apart, granting him full access to my lips and clit and vagina, all so recently used by him.

The water provides an extra element of friction when he starts the slow up-down rubbing of my clit with the side of his hand. It almost feels rough, refractory, needing extra force, which he gives.

Because I am facing away from him, I can see the way his arm crosses my body, watch the sinews move beneath the skin, slide my gaze down to his wrist, see the point where the fingers bend and disappear beneath me. Watching the intricate interplay of those muscles, knowing but not seeing what they are working on, is powerfully aphrodisiac. I can see what he is doing, and I can feel what he is doing at the same time.

But then he changes tack, puts his hands on my thighs and slides down behind me until he is on his knees. A tongue joins the lapping water at my pussy, a strong push brings it between my lips. I pivot at the hips and press my palms flat against the wall, holding myself up, keeping myself in position for more of this oral delight.

It’s as if he drinks the warm water away, lapping it up, replacing it with his own luscious licking, cleaning me to make me dirty.

I drip into his mouth, rotating my hips, beginning to moan. He holds me fast, flicks that tongue faster, flicking the engorged bead of my clit over and over. My palms begin to slide. I fear I might fall, but he claps his hands on my hips, keeping me upright.

In the cage frame of his arms, my body slumps. My core burns and blooms, ribbons of sensation unfurling inside me, gushing out to join the combined waters of his tongue and the hot water pipes. I become a fountain.

My splashing self slips down to the tiled shower basin. I want to lie there while the droplets cover and bathe me. But Lloyd has other ideas.

Still on his knees, he clears his throat and looks forlornly down at his erection.

His hair plastered to his scalp, his eyelashes brimming with water-sparkles, his face clean and shining, he looks too completely fucking adorable. I can’t resist him. I haul myself to my knees facing him and take his testicles in my hands, testing them for firmness and fullness. Lloyd has seemingly endless supplies of testosterone, as his cock testifies.

I suck him gently at first, then with increasing urgency, pinching the base of his shaft, squeezing his balls, getting my lips down lower and lower until he is deep in my throat. My cheeks are wet when his thick load of cream shoots into my mouth, but the shower isn’t the only reason for that. There’s a saline element to the damp patches, a stickiness.

When I lie back in his arms, letting the water engulf us both, I hope he hasn’t noticed, but the way he traces a finger beneath the lower lid of both my eyes suggests he has.

And if that’s made you want to read on, you can!

Game is available from Mischief Books: http://www.mischiefbooks.com/books/game/

Or a number of third party retailers, including Amazon: http://www.amazon.co.uk/Game-ebook/dp/B006PW46MA/ref=sr_1_15?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1338292481&sr=1-15

And right now, it’s only 99p for a full-length novel! Grab a bargain.

Many thanks to my wonderful friend and colleague, K D. It’s always a pleasure to visit her – and thank you for reading.

Fairy Tale Filth and Lush Illustrations: Janine Ashbless Shares the Story Behind Named and Shamed

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It’s a pleasure to be here on your blog, K D!

I thought I’d talk a bit about Tansy, the heroine of my filthy fairytale novel Named and Shamed.

Here’s the backcover blurb:

Once upon a time, a naughty girl called Tansy stole a very precious manuscript from a kindly antiquarian. But all of the world’s ancient and powerful magic, lost for centuries, has returned…and now there is much more at stake than a few sheets of parchment!

Thus begins a rude and rugged fairytale the likes of which you NEVER read when you were little! Poor Tansy is led though the most pleasurable trials and the most shameful tribulations as her quest unfolds before her. Orgasmic joy and abject humiliation are laid upon Tansy in equal measure as she straddles the two worlds of magic and man.

And this is how she describes herself:

“Most men get no further than some reference to Amazons as they paw at me, because at six feet tall and with a rack like this I can’t help but invite the comparison. I’ll never be skinny but I keep active, which means I end up with a taut waist, but I’m still plenty curvy in other places. Add to that my red hair — not an insipid ginger but ferociously bright metallic waves — and pale skin that explodes into freckles all over my shoulders and arms at the first touch of summer, and I get a lot of attention from a certain type of guy. Not necessarily the sort of guy I want, to be honest. Pretty much every man who goes for me has this submission fantasy and they want me to wrestle them to the floor or crack a whip over their ass. Goddamn. That’s not my preference. I want someone who can look me in the eye and not be intimidated. I want a guy who can make me feel overwhelmed.”

Tansy isn’t anything like my previous female protagonists. When I started writing this book I was told to aim at a default male readership – whereas normally I write for publishers whose readership is at least nominally female. So I had to give this some thought. Named and Shamed is a BDSM novel, and Tansy spends the plot discovering quite how deep her submissive kink goes, and how much punishment and humiliation she can take. In a normal stroke-novel it’d be easy to make her a blank cipher, a passive innocent who is used as a pawn by the dominants.

But that wouldn’t work for my fairytale plot. Tansy is not at all passive. She’s a woman on quest. She’s out to save herself, and her friend and lovers. She has to be intelligent and decisive and incredibly courageous, or else she’s going to get nowhere. She can’t be a cipher. And yet she has to enjoy the most extreme and challenging submission: whippings, bondage, public humiliation, and rough sex with two, three, or more (including some monstrously non-human). Stuff that, let’s face it, most normal people couldn’t cope with.

So I’m not saying Tansy is a realistic female character. Far from it: she’s my porn ideal of what a woman should be like. She loves sex, of course. But more than that, she’s got no emotional baggage. Despite a kink for public degradation, she’s not messed up, or insecure, or needy. If she makes a mistake and screws things up – which she certainly does – she always takes responsibility for fixing things afterwards. Kindly, and intensely protective of her cousin Gail, she is quite capable of love, but she has no emotional dependence on anyone else for her own validation. She’s completely self-actualized. She can do almost anything – and have almost anything done to her – and it doesn’t cause any damage to her ego, any loss of self-worth.

“A pleasure to meet you, Tansy.” The Gaffer lifted his gaze from an unabashed consideration of my boobs and looked me in the eye. Without blinking, he added. “You’ve done well for yourself there boy. She’s pretty. Magnificent knockers.”

It was a test, of sorts. A calculated slap in the face, to see how I would react. I flushed and giggled, dropping my gaze coyly. I could feel my pussy swelling at the compliment. Because it was a compliment — degrading and crude and offensive, it was still an acknowledgement of my desirability by the most important man in the room. I got it. In times of trouble, scared people look for leaders. It just so happens that the sort of guy who wants to be a leader is usually a tool of the first order, but that doesn’t matter to them. Even if he chooses to impose some sort of weird elder-tree cult it doesn’t matter, as long as he leads. I knew that with a single word from this man I could be on my knees in this back bar, tugging open his flies and sucking his cock while he sipped his pint with a complacent smirk and everyone looked  on.

I wet my lips.

Her resilience, both physical and mental, is off the scale. She regrets nothing, and she can’t be broken – at least, not for more than a night.

It’s not a bad ideal. I admire her, actually.

Though I’ve got to admit I never met a woman like her.

😉

xxx

Janine

www.janineashbless.blogspot.com

http://sweetmeatspress.com/

Buy links:

http://1eroticaebooks.com/erotica/named-and-shamed/prod_2896.html

http://1placeforromance.com/erotica/named-and-shamed/prod_7834.html

These e-versions include 19 illustrations by John LaChatte, as does the paperback:

http://www.amazon.co.uk/Named-Shamed-Janine-Ashbless/dp/0957003781/ref=sr_1_3?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1337623893&sr=1-3

http://www.amazon.com/Named-Shamed-Janine-Ashbless/dp/0957003781/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1337623953&sr=1-1

Named and Shamed is also available on Kindle, but without interior illustrations.

The Story Behind Clarice Clique’s Sexy BDSM Novel, Hot Summer Days

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For me it’s always exciting to have a first-time guest on my sight, and I’m particularly excited to welcome the very talented Clarice Clique, whose BDSM novel, Hot Summer Days is heating things up. Welcome Clarice!

Hot Summer Days was the first full length novel I completed, and to date the only one that has been published, so it will always be a special story to me.

I was nervous about attempting to write something so long, but was encouraged by a very good friend of mine, not coincidentally the same friend who proof read and helped me write my very first erotic short stories. It is embarrassing to say how long it took me to complete Hot Summer Days, so I won’t. However, I will say that there was lots and lots of planning and editing and redrafting. I learnt a lot about the whole process of being a writer, how sometimes you have to be brave enough to cut out favourite scenes and even whole characters if they aren’t fitting into the narrative.

In my stories there is an element of creating dreams and fantasies, but I write a lot from the heart and share with my readers experiences that have touched and moved me.  People who know me scarily say they can tell which parts of my fiction are closest to my own experiences. With Hot Summer Days there are elements of my personality and life both in Vanessa (although unfortunately I don’t share her perfect body!), the heroine on a journey of erotic discovery, and Penelope, the poised Mistress, always in control of herself and quietly dominating her subs.

Like many of my short stories it is focused around BDSM. I love the dynamics of power play and painting scenes of beautiful people bound together and adoring every minute of discomfort and pain.

I’m attached to my characters and when I get time it is a world I would like to return to and discover the next part of Vanessa’s sexual growth. For now though I hope you enjoy Hot Summer Days and get as much pleasure as I did writing and living it.

Excerpt:

When they reached the entrance to the ballroom, Penelope clicked her fingers, and the mousy maid emerged through the doorway holding a small bowl of steaming water, a beautiful blue bottle filled with liquid, and a towel draped over her arm.

“Prepare her,” Penelope commanded.

Harvey stepped forward and took the rope from Penelope’s hand and then, with consummate ease, began to untie the knots that had kept Vanessa’s body tightly bound for most of the day. Even when he had freed her and allowed the now useless rope to drop to the floor, Vanessa still felt that she was tied up and unable to move of her own free will. Then the mouse was next to her. She put the bowl of water onto the floor and poured some of the liquid onto her hand before carefully placing the blue bottle beside the bowl. Vanessa drank in the sweet scent of roses as the maid slowly began to cleanse Vanessa’s face. She may even have enjoyed the mouse’s gentle touch if she hadn’t been aware of how quiet the room was now. It was eerie how quiet so many people could be. She kept her eyes fixed on a point on the floor as she was scared to look up and see all those people in their strange costumes, no longer fucking, but looking straight back at her.

When the mouse began to clean her breasts, Vanessa closed her eyes and concentrated on mathematical equations to prevent herself from moaning with the intoxicating mixture of pleasure and pain that arose from the maid touching the skin where the ropes had bound her flesh. She opened them again, though, when she heard a loud crash. Harvey had swept all the food off one of the tables and was now dragging it across to her. Vanessa stared at the floor where chocolate, strawberries and cream were losing their separate identities and merging into one. At the edge of her gaze, though, she could not ignore the sight that she’d feared; the whole room was still and all attention was focused on her. Then a velvet hood was placed over her head, and she could no longer see anything.

A pair of hands was on her waist, and she was lifted onto the table as if she were a doll. She stood frozen, completely disorientated by the darkness, and scared to move in case she fell over.

“Undo your blouse,” a voice said from somewhere behind her. She knew it was Penelope, but even her friend’s familiar tones were distorted by her mind making her uncertain what to do.

There was not much of her blouse left to undo after Harvey had ripped it open earlier. She fumbled with a button; her heart beating fast as the remains of the fabric fell away leaving her torso completely revealed. There was a whoop and a cheer from somewhere in front of her. Vanessa didn’t have a chance to digest whether she was more intimidated or excited by the sudden sound before the whole room was full of voices all shouting at her. It was as if a signal had been given and the crowd was allowed to give free reign to their lust again.

Vanessa couldn’t distinguish individual voices, but all the separate cries seemed to merge into direct commands that she immediately obeyed. One by one, she removed the rest of her clothes until she was naked, apart from the hood. Then she turned around and bent over, and then she was dancing for them, gyrating her hips, shimmying, willing them to give her more commands, to take her further.

Fuck me, she thought, one of you bastards, all of you bastards, fuck me.

Then she realized that she didn’t have to wait for them; she wasn’t tied up anymore; she could do what she wanted. She reached down between her legs and stroked her wet sex. It was such a release to be able to touch herself that she immediately moaned.

Either her action or her evident pleasure in it provoked someone into action.

“On your knees, bitch,” a gruff voice close to her commanded; and, without thinking, she fell to her knees.

The hood was pulled up just enough so her lips were exposed.

“Open your mouth,” he said.

She obeyed and a thick cock was pushed into her mouth. She sucked hard; but, in her thoughts, she cursed the fact that she was only going to be allowed to give oral again and not have her body filled the way she was yearning for.

Then she heard someone climb up on the table behind her, and her legs were roughly spread, and a cock was pushed into her pussy. She would have gasped with the sheer size of it, but the man in front of her began fucking her mouth harder. Hands were pinching her nipples. Someone’s fingers were on her clit. Something was pressing into her ass. The orgasm ripped through her body in a way that was almost painful. It was such a relief that she felt her body trembling and shaking. She pulled her head away from the man’s cock and wiggled away from the man behind her. She would have fallen off the table, but a strong pair of hands caught her. Whoever it was wasn’t offering her an escape though; she found herself on the floor with her legs in the air and a head buried between her thighs. The sensation was too much to bear, and she pleaded for whoever it was to stop. Finally they did, but then she was rolled onto her front and someone was sliding their cock between her butt cheeks. She cried out, but her body had a will of its own, pressing backwards into the stranger’s groin. The man creamed over her ass, but Vanessa knew it wasn’t over. She knew her night was just beginning.

Places to buy Hot Summer Days: 

http://www.adultebookshop.com/Hot-Summer-Days-p-1441.html

http://www.pinkflamingo.com/brands/Clarice-Clique.html

Bio: 

I live in a small terraced house in England dreaming of all the lives I am not living. Some of these dreams make it into stories and some of these stories make it into print. In 2009 I had my first novel published, a BDSM, sub/Dom story called Hot Summer Days, by Pink Flamingo Publications. Since then I have ad many anthologies published.

I am currently working on a few more novels, simultaneously hoping that somehow I shall finish them in the next few years. However, I am easily distracted from my work by an internet addiction which means my brain is brimming over ‘facts’ about obscure television stars gleaned from Wikipedia. I own many different shades of thigh-high boots ordered from a surprising variety of internet shops; I can count to ten in ten different languages; I have a secret life as a tall blue woman complete with tail, hooves and horns in a certain online game, and I am having several simultaneous internet affairs, wondering if cybersex and a nice vibrator might not actually in fact be better than the real thing.

Where to Find Clarice:

Website: http://friendsofclariceclique.webeden.co.uk/

Twitter: @clarice_Clique

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100002358066273

 

Birthday Party, Filthy Mouths and Hands-On Fun

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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.

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.