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Lily Harlem’s JOY RIDE Out Now!

Joy Ride CoverOut Now

Joy Ride

By Lily Harlem

 

Hi Kd, thank you for inviting me over today!

Having fun as husband and wife is something that’s very special to Mr H and I. We met young and married young, but still, no one makes me laugh like he can, and there is no one I’d ever rather be with. He’s my past, present and future. It’s moments when I feel like this that I’m compelled to write fun married couple stories rather than new romances about people meeting and falling in love. My latest story Joy Ride is exactly that. It’s about a couple who have become lost in the day to day of their lives—working, running a home, raising a family—and have forgotten how to have fun together, sexy fun in particular. With the help of a naughty suggestion they soon get their mojo back, in fact, they get more than the bargained for. I hope you’ll check out Joy Ride, it’s available from Amazon/ Amazon UK and if you subscribe to Amazon’s KU you can read it for FREE.

 

 

Back cover information

Kimberly is desperate—muffling gasps of pleasure under the covers is just not doing it for her. She loves 6d66d306f91a5e495be0aee4025a28a0and desires her husband, but she needs more.

Could the Spice Rack game picked up at a girly, wine-infused party be the solution? Anticipation floods her body as she opens the first “task”. What the…? How is “love on the move” going to spice up her sex life? It’s impossible, or so she thinks, because when a sudden sinful idea pops into her head she has to act, much to Nate’s delight.

Until, that is, they’re spotted, pulled over, hauled out and cuffed, and not in fluffy pink.

They’re in for it, but the glint in Nate’s eye tells Kimberly he’s finally got her exactly where he wants her. It might feel like hell, but before she knows it she’s catapulted to a heavenly place she’s been longing to revisit. As long as they can get away with it.

 

 

 

 Please note this book was previously published with different cover art.

 

 

Find Lily on the Web!

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

 

You Never Forget Your First Time: Lisabet Sarai’s New Expanded RAW SILK

rawsilk_revamp_400Raw Silk

New, expanded edition!

 

I published my first erotic novel in 1999. I’ve had many releases since then, but Raw Silk holds a special place in my heart. I was so innocent when I penned this story. I’d never read any romance, and relatively little erotica. I knew nothing at all about the publishing world. All I had were my own fantasies and memories, which I burned to share. Although the book was not in any sense autobiographical, it drew heavily on my personal experience. It has always been one of my most popular works, partly, I think, because readers sense the emotional authenticity of the tale. Kate’s sexual journey mirrors my own, not in detail, but in spirit.

 

Now Totally Bound has given me the chance to revisit that book, revising and expanding it for re-release. It has been a thrill to follow Kate once more through the twists and turns of her adventures in Bangkok. Meanwhile, I’m delighted to have the chance to apply the accumulated knowledge from sixteen years of writing to polish the prose, making the tale shine even more brightly.

 

 

Raw Silk Blurb:

When software engineer Kate O’Neill leaves her lover David to take a job in Thailand, she becomes sexually involved with two very different men—a handsome and debauched member of the Thai aristocracy, and the charismatic proprietor of a sex bar.

Each touches her in a different way, each teaches her different things about her body and her heart.

Then David comes to Bangkok, and Kate realizes that, finally, she must choose one of the three men who all desire her.

 

 

Totally Bound, 2016

Contemporary romantic erotica (Five flames)

 

 

Reader Advisory: This book contains scenes of M/M and F/F sex, sex with multiple partners, scenes of mixed ménage, scenes of dubious consent and forced cunnilingus, voyeurism, exhibitionism, sex in public places, pegging as well as the use of inanimate objects during sex scenes.

 

 

Raw Silk Excerpt:

ThaiPavilionGregory turned to Noi. “Help her get ready. I promised her that no one would know who she was.”

“Kate, put yourself in Noi’s hands. She’s an expert.” He bent down to whisper in her ear. “Remember, I will be watching.” She felt a hard pinch on her bottom. “Break a leg,” he said in a jocular tone, then was gone.

Noi took Kate by the hand. “Sit here,” she ordered, “and take off your shirt.” Kate stripped off the T-shirt. She was bare-breasted beneath, but the women around her did not give her a second glance. She sat at the dressing table that Noi indicated, looking at herself in the mirror.

She was flushed. Her green eyes seemed darker than usual, and sparkled with suppressed excitement. The few freckles on her pert nose seemed especially prominent. She looked pretty, alert, and very Irish.

Meanwhile, her nipples were red and rigid, perched high on her full breasts. Touch me, they almost screamed. Pinch me, suck me.

As if reading her thoughts, Noi caught her left nipple between a thumb and forefinger, and gave a little twist. Kate gasped. “You will be very popular,” observed the mamasan dryly. Kate couldn’t help blushing.

Noi began to apply makeup. Kate watched, fascinated, as her ruddy skin became pale, her freckles disappeared, her eyebrows darkened and arched, her eyes became shallow and almond-shaped. In a short time, she was looking at an Asian beauty, perhaps half-Thai, half-American, with moist, full lips and curly red hair.

“My hair…” she protested. Noi reached behind her and produced a wig of straight, black locks. She gathered Kate’s own ringlets into a tight ponytail then fitted the wig.

The transformation was complete. Black bangs cut across her forehead. Black tresses decorated her shoulders. She looked nineteen instead of twenty-eight. And, most assuredly, Thai.

The other girls gathered around. “Oh, madam, you look so beautiful.” Kate couldn’t help but smile, surrounded as she was by gorgeous female faces and forms.

“Here is your costume,” said Noi. “Gregory selected it especially for you.”

Kate grew a little paler. Was she really expected to wear this, in public? She looked at Noi in silent entreaty, but the mamasan just grinned. “Get dressed,” she said. “The dancing will start in just a few minutes.”

TempleGuardianA corset of black vinyl, laced up the front, which cinched her waist and left her breasts bare. The briefest of G-strings, a tiny vinyl triangle that barely hid her bush plus a thong that settled deep in the crevice between her buttocks. Thigh-high vinyl boots with four-inch heels. And, finally, the leather collar she had last worn while Gregory had taken her from behind.

Fully attired, she checked herself in the mirror once more. A stranger stared back, a sultry Asian temptress. The body was more voluptuous than was typical for a Thai, full breasts and thighs that belied the woman’s youthful face. Her red-painted lips were half-open, luscious and inviting. Her skin shone already with a light sheen of sweat. Kate raised her arms above her head and swiveled her hips, as she had seen the other dancers do. The figure in the mirror moved gracefully, languidly, every motion beckoning the viewer to watch, touch, taste, possess her.

“Here is your number.” Noi handed her a plastic chip with a pin on the back. Kate had noticed all the girls wearing them. Apparently they served as a simple accounting mechanism, for tallying the tips the girls received whenever a customer bought them a drink. She smiled wryly, noting that Gregory had assigned her the number sixty-nine.

 

Buy Links (Ebook and Print)

Amazon US

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B01AUSE5NE/

Amazon UK

http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B01AUSE5NE/

Barnes & Noble

http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/raw-silk-lisabet-sarai/1102328201?ean=9781786510051

Totally Bound

https://www.totallybound.com/raw-silk

All Romance

https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-rawsilk-1992519-147.html

Goodreads

https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/28603390-raw-silk

 

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Review Quotes

“This is by far one of the best erotic novels that I have read and it fully deserves every one of the five ribbons I am giving it! But it does make me wonder what the characters could do with them.” ~ Maree Schuler, Romance Junkies (Five Ribbons).

 

“[Kate’s] character grows and she comes to realize her inner needs along with her deep sexual desires. Lisabet Sarai has a flair for sexy, sensuous romance with an edgy feel. I cannot wait to read more by this talented author.” ~ Dawnie, Fallen Angels Reviews (Five Angels).

 

“The Bangkok setting is fascinating and adds to the overall feeling of opulent sensuality. Lisabet Sarai deftly shows the country without ever letting the descriptions take over the story. Good BDSM novels are voyages of self-discovery, and Raw Silk is a journey you’ll enjoy taking.” ~ Kathleen Bradean, Erotica Revealed

 

“…this is one SIZZLING read (the ending was incredible) and should not be put on the back burner of your ‘to read list.” ~ Alyssa, Amazon review (Five stars)

 

About Lisabet

LISABET SARAI occasionally tackles other genres, but BDSM will always be her first love. Every one of her nine novels includes some element of power exchange, while her D/s short stories range from mildly kinky to intensely perverse.

You’ll find information and excerpts from all Lisabet’s books on her website (http://www.lisabetsarai.com/books.html), along with more than fifty free stories and lots more. At her blog Beyond Romance (http://lisabetsarai.blogspot.com), she shares her philosophy and her news and hosts lots of other great authors. She’s also on Goodreads and finally, on Twitter.

 

 

The Psychology of Dreams 101: Part Three

Writing pen and birds 1_xl_20156020In Part 3 of The Psychology of Dreams, Leah and Al decide to take their punishment dreams to a hypnotherapist.

What if you got punished when you didn’t get your dreams right? That’s the dilemma our heroin, Leah, has in the second instalment of The Psychology of Dreams 101.

No, I didn’t dream it, and I’m seriously hoping I don’t get punished like Leah and Al do if I don’t get it quite right, but The Psychology of Dreams did bubble up from somewhere in my unconscious last week, and I had to share it. The Muse has been back knocking around in my imagination again, so today I’m back with another instalment of a new serial.

The Psychology of Dreams 101, is a romp into the sexy unconscious as Leah Kent takes a Psychology of Dreams adult education class, only to discover that the required Dream Journal leads to some seriously kinky night journeys.

I have no idea how long this little ditty will be, nor where it will lead, but I’m willing if you are. Please, read and enjoy The Psychology of Dreams 101.

Part 3 of The Psychology of Dreams 101 is a quick and dirty today, finished hurriedly after I sent a mega-manuscript off yesterday evening, so please excuse any typos, as I’m out the door and will hopefully give one more read-through when I get back home.

If you missed episode 2, find it here.

 

 

Chapter 3 Prepping to Dream

“When I wake up,” Leah said, “well, I’m always so … aroused, I can’t do anything until I … touch myself. And then, after I’ve gotten some relief, I feel guilty, oh not that I’ve masturbated,” she waved a hand to negate any comments he might make about her guilt. “I’ve masturbated since I was eleven, and being on my own, working from home as I do … well, it’s an outlet.”

“I understand,” Al said gently, “as one practitioner of self-love to another.” He said it with a sympathetic smile and not a trace of a blush, but Leah reminded herself that the man did have a PhD in some obscure branch of psychology. She wondered how he ended up teaching a class on dreams for an obscure adult education program, but that was a thought for another time.

She continued. “What I do feel guilty about is … well it always feels like there’s a disconnect, you know? Like maybe if I’d let you finish punishing me, if I could have slept through to that point, then maybe I could dream better, you know, do it right, see what’s supposed to happen next.” She quickly added, “I know that sounds absurd, like dreams are a series on TV and you can get them in a box set once the season finishes.”

He chuckled at that, but made no comment. For a moment they sat in silence with him nodding his agreement. Then he cleared his throat, once then again, and tugged at his open shirt collar. “I sometimes feel like if I could just stay in the dream until after the punishment then, I don’t know, then something really important would be revealed, if that makes any sense.”

“Me to!” She scooted her chair closer and lowered her voice, ‘like if I take my punishment, the reward will be the best dream ever. I suppose that sounds silly, because how can a dream be a reward? But that’s how it feels, that I can’t get to the dream, the really important dream, until I can make it through the punishment. Do you think maybe I should try some lucid dreaming techniques?”

“Wow! I see that you have read way ahead,” he said. “While many people find lucid dreaming an intriguing possibility, and I always encouraged my students to play around with lucid dreaming, it’s been my experience, even when I have a lucid dream, even when I’m aware that I’m dreaming, I’m never able to exert any control.”

“I had a great aunt who used to make a tea of valerian root, passion flower anise and several other Sleeping woman reading181340322466666994_IswNAb85_bherbs whenever she wanted prophetic dreams.” She gave a little shrug. “She was Wiccan back before it was cool, and she was a bit scary at times.”

He chuckled softly. “Magic mushrooms, hallucinogenic drugs, vision quests, all those sorts of things, are often tools used for enlightenment. Certainly forms of physical abuse, deprivation, fasting, even flagellation, were all in an effort to reach the divine or the deeper self. Do you think we’ll find enlightenment if we get through our punishment dreams, Leah?”

“Maybe just the perfect orgasm.”

“Well who wouldn’t want that?” he replied, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

There was another silence, and more staring down at their feet, then he looked up at her. “Perhaps it’s all the same thing.”

When she only offered a blank stare, he rubbed his palms against his trousers and squared his shoulders. “I mean your aunt took a mix of herbs, some people take drugs, others take beatings, but all with a similar end in mind.”

“So?”

“Leah,” his gaze from beneath the glasses felt almost physical, “you said you knew a little bit about BDSM. Do you know what subspace is?”

Leah felt her pulse jump. “I know a little, what I’ve read is all. Isn’t it sort of the altered state where submissives go in their heads, sort of a separation from their bodies after prolonged pain or pleasure?”

He nodded still holding her gaze.

“You think that our dreams are trying to get us into … the equivalent of subspace to access the mega-dream or whatever it is?”

“It’s a possibility, isn’t it? I mean we never get there in the dream and we always wake up unsatisfied with the distinct impression that we would have understood if we’d only stayed with it.”

“And what about the notes?” She said. “They seem to be saying just the opposite. They seem to be assuring us that we’re doing it right, and yet we get nowhere.”

“But a part of reaching that altered state is letting go. We both come back from the dream because we’re so desperate for an orgasm. We don’t stick around long enough to get to subspace or whatever the dream equivalent is. I took a meditation class once and the instructor told us that the more we think about getting it right when we’re trying to meditate, the less likely we’ll ever actually meditate. There’s something about letting go, about giving up expectations and giving oneself over to the experience. I understand that subs give over the control of their orgasm to their Doms, and that they can maintain that state of heightened arousal. That the orgasm isn’t the end all, but a part of the whole journey, and sometimes not even that. Of course my knowledge of BDSM is limited,” he added quickly.

“But isn’t that what falling asleep is essentially — the giving up of control to the unconscious?” Leah gave an embarrassed little laugh. “I’ll admit I find the spanking both arousing and frightening, but I want what’s at then end of it, not the spanking itself.”

“But what if you didn’t? What if you decided just to go along for the ride? What if you were to go deep into the spanking, the experience of the sting, of the pain, of the tingle? What if that in itself was the whole of the experience you were looking for? Then what?”

“But that doesn’t change the fact that I don’t know how to do that, does it? For me, it’s never been
a lucid dream. I never know I’ve dreamed until I wake up. I suppose we could try herbs. I’m not comfortable with drugs. There’s hypnosis, maybe.”

“I know a psychiatrist who does hypnotherapy. It might be worth a try,” Al said. “Let me talk to him.”

 

Dr. Derrick Clyde was a big man, several inches taller than Al and much broader of shoulder. While Al had a lean endurance athlete’s build, Dr. Clyde could have been a body builder. He was deep-chested and, though he wore a sports jacket when they met him in his uptown office, there was no disguising the man’s physique.

“Let me get this straight, the two of you want me to hypnotize you to stay in a recurring dream, a recurring, kinky, erotic dream until it finishes so that you can both have some mega-dream that you
believe will follow if you take your punishment?”

“That about sums it up,” Al said, patting Leah’s hand reassuringly. “I know it’s a strange request, but –”

“All right,” Dr. Clyde cut him off at the pass. “I’ll do it.” Before either of them could offer their thanks, he raised a hand. “I’ll do it on one condition.”

“Which is?” Al shifted on the sofa and his spine stiffened.

“That you tell me about these dreams first.” Again he raised a hand to silence their protests. “If I’m going to hypnotize you because of such an unusual request, if I’m going to hypnotize you for any reason, I want to know and understand as much about the circumstances as possible before I do it. If anyone would know this, you would, Al.”

Leah didn’t miss the twitch of the muscles along Al’s jaw in response and the sudden rush of color to his cheeks, but he said nothing, only squared his shoulders and offered a nod of agreement.

“Good.” Dr. Clyde offered his best analyst smile and glanced down at his watch. “I have a free hour now, if that would work.”

“Now?” Leah said. “But we won’t be going to bed for hours,” then she blushed. “I mean I won’t be going to bed for hours. I don’t know what time Dr. Foster goes to bed.”

To this, Al sniggered and Dr. Clyde shot her a quirk of a smile. “Oh that won’t matter. I’ll just give each of you a word you say when you turn off the light and crawl into bed – at whatever time that may be, in whatever location – and the word will represent the command that you stay with the dream until it’s finished.”

After the uncomfortable experience of rehashing the dreams again, while Dr. Clyde listened and nodded without comment, they both got comfortable – as comfortable as possible under the circumstances, seated at opposite ends of Dr. Clyde’s Cordovan leather sofa and, the next thing Leah IMG_5339
knew, the psychiatrist snapped his fingers. “All done,” he said when she gave him a confused look.

“Seriously? I don’t remember anything,” Leah said, feeling like only a second had past. “What about the word?”

“Don’t worry, it’s all right there.” He gently tapped her temple with the tip of his index finger. “The suggestion should help you stay in the dream until it reaches its natural conclusion. It won’t keep you asleep if, for instance the phone rings, there’s a knock on the door or the smoke alarm goes off. It’s designed only to work under normal REM sleep conditions. From what you’ve told me, something in the subconscious is keeping both of you from finishing the dream, and while I think that you’d be much better doing a few sessions of therapy before we do try hypnosis, you’re not my clients and I have no reason to think either of you unstable. And besides,” he offered a broad smile. “I’m way too intrigued not to be curious about where these kinky dreams are leading.”

 

Janine Ashbless Had a Dream — Writing the Lovers’ Wheel Books

FallingDeep (4)I’m so excited to welcome Janine Ashbless to mine on the release day of Falling Deep, Book 2 of her fabulous Lover’s Wheel Series. I love discovering what inspired people to write their stories, and Janine is going to tell us just that. Welcome, Janine!

 

I Had a Dream – writing the Lovers’ Wheel Books

One night some decades ago, probably before I was even a writer, I had a dream so real and so emotionally powerful that I’ve never forgotten it. I dreamed that I was standing at the gates of a big old house somewhere in the English countryside. The grounds were so overgrown that the gates were almost choked shut with brambles and weeds, but when I scrambled through and made my way up the drive I found that the house was still occupied despite being decayed. In fact it was a retirement home, with old people sitting around in wheelchairs, dozing and playing chess. Then I realized that these old men were the disguised King Arthur and his Knights of the Round Table, who had retreated here to await in secret the last call to battle when England would need their heroes again.

That was it. That’s all I dreamed.

Years later, this became the seed for the Lovers’ Wheel quartet I’m currently writing for Ellora’s Cave.

Now I know roughly where the idea grew from. All my childhood I’d been reading stories from authors like Susan Cooper, Alan Garner, and Diana Wynne Jones, in which the nice cosy English countryside was a place where lurked gods and elves and Ancient Powers pretending to be human, just biding their time and perhaps waiting to be woken by plucky middle class school children on holiday. I LOVED those books! I wanted to write a wondrous story about a girl who discovers a hidden world of magical adventure, a girl who is marked for a special destiny, a girl whose choices decide the fate of the world.

Only I wanted to write the adult version, with really dirty sex and way more moral greyness.

So Lovers’ Wheel is about Liz, who goes to stay with her Great-aunt Moira at spooky old Enniswitrin House in Somerset, and finds that she’s been picked for the noble task of fucking each of the Twelve Months of the Year in turn, to keep the seasons turning. But being Chosen isn’t nearly as nice or as vanilla as she’s been lead to believe, especially as the Brothers start to lead her into the darker half of the year.

As for Arthur – yeah, he’s there too! Read Summer Seduction and Falling Deep to find out about him. And I promise that When Winter Comes and Joys of Spring will complete the cycle of the year in due course…

xxx

Janine

 

Falling Deep Blurb:

Book 2 of the Lovers’ Wheel series.

Liz is reeling with shock. She has just discovered that her Great-aunt Moira’s spooky old house is the last disguised remnant of mystical Avalon, and that Moira has been manipulating her into initiation as an immortal sorceress serving the old powers of nature.

Liz’s ordained role is to turn the Wheel of the Year through the seasons by having sex with each of the Twelve Months in turn. The Brothers of the Fall appear to be hot and handsome men, but they are far more daunting than their summer predecessors. Liz now faces three new avatars who are increasingly dominant and kinky. As the year turns inexorably toward the darkness, Liz must embrace the allure of total submission and give them complete control of her sexuality.

Inside Scoop: Liz explores a wide range of erotic experiences, including light bondage and brief f/f touching.

Reader Advisory: This story has graphic sexual language and scenes—no closed bedroom doors (or other rooms) here!

A paranormal erotica story from Ellora’s Cave

 

 An Official Excerpt From: FALLING DEEP

Copyright © JANINE ASHBLESS, 2016

All Rights Reserved, Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.

 

She was on the train again. The one that had brought her to Somerset and to Raskelf village and to Enniswitrin House, all the way back in June. She recognized the blue seat covers of the Great Western Railway and the patronizing safety notice on the bulkhead of the carriage, and the cardboard coffee cups abandoned on the little tables. Only, this time it was dusk and she was completely alone. There were no bags on the overhead racks, and no other travelers in the seats. Outside, through the long windows, the world passed in a gray-green blur.

Looking down at herself, she saw the nineteen-fifties style dress she had worn for the Midsummer dance. But she remembered the black skirt and white blouse she’d really worn that morning, and she remembered the lion. Just not how she’d gotten there.

Yet it all seemed far away and unimportant.

I’m dreaming again. I wonder if he’ll turn up this time?

Rising to her feet, Liz walked down toward the end of the carriage, glancing into each seat as she passed. She could feel the vehicle swaying beneath her, and hear the click of the points as the wheels passed over. It sounded like hoofbeats. The muted roar of steel and wind outside made her think of a great crowd of people faintly heard at a distance. People shouting and banging things together. A clashing of metal.

Where have I heard that before? What does it remind me of?

There were no other passengers hiding behind the tall seat backs. Reaching the door, which failed to open automatically for her, Liz peered through the smoked glass. She should have been able to see a matching door at the entrance to the next carriage, and maybe a toilet cubicle. All she could make out were dark forms in rapid, jerky motion against a background nearly as dark. Flags, she thought. And horses. Those are horse heads. Like a whole crowd of riders are stampeding past. No, it’s a battle.

“Did you tell her?”

Liz jumped. Three rows away, exactly where she was sure there’d been no one at all, stood the black-clad figure of the man with the dark red hair that she’d seen in her last train dream. The one she’d been expecting. Mr. Foxy, she’d labeled him. He stood with arms folded and his butt—an exceptionally fine, tight ass as she remembered—propped against the side of a seat. Liz felt an instant rush of arousal and dread course through her body.

“Did you tell Moira, as you promised?” he asked again. There was an edge in his voice, and those blue eyes burned under angled brows.

“Yes.” She nodded rapidly, relieved to be able to report it. “He’s trying to wake up.” That had been the message she’d been charged with. Okay, so she’d only passed it on after weeks of delay, but at least she’d done it in the end. She felt somehow that she didn’t want to break a promise to this man.

“What did she say?” Unfurling his arms, he shifted until he was standing to block the aisle, one hand on a headrest, either side. She’d thought him a surfer dude or a climber, the first time she’d seen him, based on his body type and his untidy hair and his outdoor-sports manner of dress. His demeanor, though, was more military interrogation than civilian. His tense body loomed like an exclamation mark.

Squirming inside and trying hard to hide it, Liz cast her mind back to her recent argument with Moira. “Nothing really. She looked pretty upset though.” She looked awful.

“Did she say what she’d do?”

Summer Seduction“She didn’t say anything! Except, uh…she asked how I knew. That’s all.” It wasn’t quite the whole truth. Their argument had certainly ratcheted up a notch after that. She swallowed hard, drawing up the old stories nibbling in the undercurrent of her mind. “If he’s King Arthur—the old guy sleeping upstairs—and she’s his sister, does that make her, like, Morgan le Fay? The witch?”

For a moment he held her gaze with his fierce eyes, and then he looked abruptly aside. She could see the muscles bunched in his jaw and the tension in his neck. Then he nodded curtly. “The Queen of Northgales.”

“Some queen. The old cow tricked me!” Liz’s complaint did not burn as hot as it had when she was awake. “She set me up with Shane and now she’s telling me I can’t stop or we’re all in big trouble. She says she wants me to save the world…or keep it going, anyway. Turning the year over.”

“So?”

“Can you believe something that crazy? That the world depends on who I’m humping? Like I’ve got some kind of a…magic pussy?”

He shrugged, which riled her.

“What does that mean?”

“It means it’s nothing to do with me.”

“So what am I doing here, on this train?”

“This what?” It came out through clenched teeth.

“This train to Somerset. Intercity.”

His mouth pulled taut. “Perhaps you are between stations.”

“I fell down a bank. There was a lion in the garden, and it chased me.” She licked her lips. “That sounds much less likely than being on a train,” she admitted. “Maybe that bit was the dream.”

He arched one eyebrow, studying her. “Have you been initiated yet?”

“Initiated? Oh, you mean—” As an Argante. She shook her head. “No way.”

“Then you cannot command the lion.”

“But I don’t want to command it.”

“Then it will eat you. That is the way of the world, Liz Haven.”

“I just want to have my own life, that’s all!”

He grimaced, and when he said, “As do I,” the words were thick with bitterness and regret. He’d seemed so dominant the last time they’d met, sexual charisma pouring from him like a wave that swept her feet from beneath her. But now that force was all pent up within him, his every muscle clenched.

“Are you in trouble?”

He laughed. “I’m in hell.”

“Can I do anything to help?” she whispered. It was not entirely compassion that prompted her. Feelings in dreams were stronger, wilder and more imperative than waking thoughts. Unhampered by rational checks and balances, they had a momentum all their own, and her attraction to him was impossible to ignore.

“I don’t know,” he answered, capturing her in the sapphire net of his eyes once more. “Can you?”

She felt her heart jump as if he’d cracked a whip. But even he was surprised when she took a step forward and sank to her knees before him.

Why am I doing this? she wondered as she laid her hands on the coarse black cloth of his jeans. But she knew the answer already. It was pure lust, burning like a bright coal at the meeting point of her thighs. Her deepest urges were taking command.

He made a noise in his throat that has half surprise and half appreciation. The button fly under her questing fingers suddenly overlay a bulge that had not been there before, and Liz felt a rush of pleasure.

“I mean, this’ll help, won’t it?” she asked, made confident enough by his body’s response to lift her eyes and question him, even as her fingers plucked the stiff buttons.

“I… Liz, no,” he answered, his voice huskier even than before. There was a look on his face she had not seen before and it gave her great satisfaction to see his black brows hooked up like that. She’d taken him by surprise. He’d not anticipated that, and for a moment he was not the one in control. He looked almost afraid.

Liz smiled.

He wasn’t wearing underwear. His cock fell eagerly into her grasp from the V of his jeans, warm and silky, and he had to set his stance a fraction wider to stop his clothes sliding down those long hard thighs. She cradled his length in her palm, squeezing it encouragingly.

You look delicious. I want to eat you.

“Liz, I can’t.”

“Rubbish,” she told him firmly.

 

 *****

Buy Falling Deep & Summer Seduction Here:

 

Falling Deep at Amazon US:

http://www.amazon.com/Falling-Lovers-Wheel-Janine-Ashbless-ebook/dp/B01C639HPC/ref=sr_1_1

Falling Deep at Amazon UK:

http://www.amazon.co.uk/gp/product/B01C639HPC

Summer Seduction (Lovers’ Wheel Book 1) at Amazon US:

http://www.amazon.com/Summer-Seduction-1-Janine-Ashbless-ebook/dp/B00OTU9SEQ/ref=sr_1_1

Summer Seduction (Lovers’ Wheel Book 1) at Amazon UK:

http://www.amazon.co.uk/Summer-Seduction-1-Janine-Ashbless-ebook/dp/B00OTU9SEQ/ref=pd_sim_351_1

 

Find Janine Ashbless Here:

www.janineashbless.com

www.janineashbless.blogspot.com

https://www.facebook.com/Janine-Ashbless-author-page-140154696078980/

 

About Janine:

Janine Ashbless is a writer of fantasy erotica and steamy romantic adventure. She likes to write about magic and myth and mystery, dangerous power dynamics, borderline terror, and the not-quite-human.

Her work has been described as: “Hardcore and literate” (Madeline Moore) and “Vivid and tempestuous and dangerous, and bursting with sacrifice, death and love.” (Portia Da Costa)

 

 

The Psychology of Dreams 101: Part 2

Writing pen and birds 1_xl_20156020What if you got punished when you didn’t get your dreams right? That’s the dilemma our heroin, Leah, has in the second instalment of The Psychology of Dreams 101.

No, I didn’t dream it, and I’m seriously hoping I dot get punished like Leah and Al do if I don’t get it quite right, but The Psychology of Dreams did bubble up from somewhere in my unconscious last week, and I had to share it. The Muse has been back knocking around in my imagination again, so today I’m back with another instalment of a new serial.

The Psychology of Dreams 101, is a romp into the sexy unconscious as Leah Kent takes a Psychology of Dreams adult education class, only to discover that the required Dream Journal leads to some seriously kinky night journeys.

I have no idea how long this little ditty will be, nor where it will lead, but I’m willing if you are. Please, read and enjoy The Psychology of Dreams 101.

 

 

 

The Psychology of Dreams 101: Chapter 2

Blank Pages and Punishment 

“I’m not pleased with your dream journal, Leah.” It was so much like the dream, that it took her breath away. She stood before Al Foster’s desk in the empty classroom, him offering her a concerned look over the top of his glasses. It was so much like the dream, in fact, that she gave a quick glance down to make sure she still wore jeans and a pullover and not transparent red underwear.

“I don’t understand,” she said, clasping her bag to her chest to hide the press of her nipples, which didn’t really care if she wore red underwear or not. They seemed more interested in the close proximity of Al Foster.

“Why are you writing down made-up dreams? I can tell when you’re making it up, Leah. I can always tell. Is the technique I shared with you not working? If not, just tell me and we can try something else.”

“I haven’t been using the technique,” she blurted. “I haven’t needed to.” Fuck! That was an unfortunate slip.

“Oh?”

She tried to recall if she’d ever seen bluer eyes than his. Her dreams got it right, even with the glasses that made him look like a sexy nerd, you couldn’t miss the blue. His unkempt blond hair was the color of ripe wheat. Her dreams got that right too. She loved the way it fell down all disorderly and wild over his eyes when he spanked her.

“Leah? Are you all right?”

She jumped at the sound of her name. “I’m sorry. I’ve not been sleeping well,” she said. She didn’t know why she said that. If anything she’d been sleeping too well.

“Oh?” He slid his chair back and came to stand beside her. He was taller than she thought, and she blushed at the sight of his belt, brown leather. It looked soft like swede, but she knew it packed a wallop – at least it did when he wielded it. “Is it because of the dreams?” His blue gaze studying her from behind the glasses made her feel like she was under a microscope or in front of a two-way mirror, made her feel like she was standing there in his classroom in nothing but transparent red underwear. “Leah,” he said, touching her shoulder and gently guiding her to sit in one of the seats in the front row, while he pulled a chair up to face her. “Are the dreams erotic? Is that why you feel you can’t write them down for me? Because everyone has erotic dreams and, in fact, they may well be more likely to if they’re keeping a dream journal for sharing.

“They’re about you.” She hadn’t planned to say that. She’d planned to lie, but she was never very good at lying.

He blinked, and she watched his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed. “About me.”

She nodded.

“Well,” he scooted back ever so slightly and straightened in his chair so that he could study her more Sleeping woman reading181340322466666994_IswNAb85_bcarefully, “that’s not unusual either.” He smiled, and a soft blush crawled up his neck and onto his cheeks. “I’ve actually had students make up dreams about me. They were surprised when I called them on it. I have to say you’re the first woman to do the opposite, to hide those dreams from me. Oh, it’s not unusual for people to try to hide their erotic dreams, not at all, but I can pretty much guess that if a particularly steamy dream turns up about me, the writer is a woman. She’s made it up, and it’s more a fantasy than any dream she’s likely to have.”

“Oh believe me, it’s better this way,” she managed, still clutching her bag to her chest. “I mean me keeping them from you. I … I could barely write them down for myself.”

“But you did then? You did write them down?”

She nodded, her mouth gone suddenly dry. She hadn’t meant to tell him that either. “Just not in there.” She gestured to her class dream journal laying on his desk.

“I see.” He ran a hand through his hair leaving it standing in spikes and waves, making her ache to straighten it for him, or maybe muss it up further. “Leah, will you let me read the real journal. No one will know what you wrote but you and I, and I understand the psychology of dreams; I understand that we have no control over what happens in the unconscious. I promise I would never –”

“You spank me,” she blurted.

He sucked a heavy breath. “I spank you?”

“Yes, you spank me, and you tell me you’ll keep punishing me until I get my dreams right, until I dream about you, and it’s always the same, with the two of us alone in this room and you taking your belt off and you turning me over your knee and telling me that if you spank me, then maybe the pain in my — ” she made a quick jerk of her neck toward her backside “—will help remind me to dream of you. There’s only the one dream,” she added quickly, “well variations of it.”

After a few fish gasps and another hand through his hair, he squared his shoulders, and shoved his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “I see. So, recurring dreams, are they?” He offered her a smile that wavered only slightly.

“Recurring? Yes, I suppose they are. I never thought of it like that.” If she was going to be brave enough to tell him the truth, then she might as well show him the rest of it too. She dug in her bag for her real dream journal and pulled out the page that she’d torn from the one for class, the page with the note she’d written to herself. “I woke up to find this in my journal after the first spanking dream.” She handed it to him.

To her shock and discomfort, he read it out loud.

You look beautiful when you dream. It was a good dream, the kind you don’t want to wake up from. At last, Leah, you’re doing it right! You can always tell when you do it right by the way your nipples bead beneath the sheet, by the way your lips turn up at the corners, slightly parted as though waiting to be kissed. And, take a sniff, Leah. Your scent is the scent of dreams well dreamed, luscious and ripe. Well done, Leah! Well done!

For a moment they both sat in silence, him staring down at the words on the page, her staring at her feet.Dreams imageIMG_0347 Then he took off his glasses and joined her in gazing at his own feet. At last he raised his eyes back to her and took a deep breath. “Why did you tear this out?”

“Because I don’t remember writing it. It’s not a dream, it’s like, I don’t know, me talking to myself in my sleep or something, and I thought if you read it you’d think … ”

“I’d think what?”

“That I just made it up that I was just being … you know, pathetic.”

“Why would I think that?” He put his glasses back on and looked at the note again. “It seems to me like your unconscious had you pegged pretty well here,” then he added quickly, “of course I don’t know what you look like when you dream or what your physiological responses are, but it makes sense. I … I smell differently when I wake up after a strong dream, and,” he looked away quickly, “I get … hard too, when I’m doing it right.” He blushed and she blushed for him and they were both looking at their feet again.

“But how can there be a right way and a wrong way to dream? I mean I’ve read way ahead in the texts you’ve recommended and done some research on my own. We really sort of just dream what we dream, don’t we?”

“That’s what I thought,” he said, scooting closer to her with a screech of the chair legs on the floor. “But then I started getting … comments like this.” He nodded down to her note, “comments from my unconscious, I assume, and I also have dreams about not doing it right.”

“Did you get … you know … spanked?”

This time it was more than a blush, his whole face redden, and the fine muscles along his cheek bones twitched. “It was rather more than a spanking, I’m afraid.”

“More than a spanking?” Her pulse hammered in her words, as she pushed forward on the edge of her seat.

“Do you know anything about BDSM, Leah?” His own pulse kept beat in his words and thudded in his throat as he pinned her in his gaze.

“A little. I’ve read a few novels, done a bit of research … online,” she added quickly.

“Does it frighten you?”

“A little yes. And it intrigues me.”

“This time I was tied up, flogged and had … implements placed …” He looked away as though he expected to find the words he was looking for floating on the air outside the window in the parking lot. “I had things shoved up my … butt,” he finally managed avoiding her gaze.

“Oh? Oh, wow!” The words were out before she could stop them. And they were followed in rapid succession by, “how was it?”

“Not like I expected.” He forced himself to meet her gaze. “I woke up … aroused,” he gave a little nod and lowered his eyes to the note still clenched in his hand. “I had to masturbate before I could function and, after, I found a note in my dream journal similar to this. One I don’t remember writing. Anyway,” he said looking up at her again. “The person doing things to me, in my dream, she kept saying that I wasn’t doing it right, that I should dream about her and she would punish me until I did.”

“She?” Leah asked.” He nodded, carefully maintaining uncomfortable eye contact. “Was she me?” The words were out before she could stop them. Clearly the internal editor was having a day off, she thought.

“I honestly don’t know. I never saw her face. But I know she was a woman because I felt her breasts against my back when she moved in close to tighten my bonds.” He glanced at the door as though he feared someone might be listening there. “I know you must think me some kind of a pervert telling you this, you being my student and all, but I’ve been teaching this class for ten years – here and in other places; I’ve seen more dream journals than I could possibly keep track of, and most of them are full of dreams that are just exactly what I would expect to surface from someone’s unconscious.” He shrugged. “I get a fair few people, women in particular, faking their dreams, making them up either to impress me or because they’re embarrassed. But you – you started out writing your dreams, and then you suddenly stopped after you’d been so earnest in your efforts with the journal. I knew something was up. I could feel it. I never expected this though.” He nodded down to the note he still held, then handed it back to her.

“The thing is, Leah, no on else has ever had a similar experience, an experience that mirrors my own, until you.”

For a moment the two sat in silence, and then Leah took a deep breath. “You said ‘this time,’ like it wasn’t the first time, like it’s happened before.”

“Lots of times before.”dark moon image_xl_6338206

“And it’s different each time?”

“Not every time, but frequently. What’s always the same is that it involves some kind of erotic punishment, and I never climax in the dream, though I want to. I really need to. I wake up frustrated and unable to do anything until I … take care of it. It’s the same for you, isn’t it, Leah?”

 
© 2018 K D Grace
The Romance Reviews

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