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In Pursuit of Mr Sands – Free Read

As most of you know, I brought Elise North into A Demon’s Tale because she so intrigued me in her encounters with Mr. Sands, which I plan to revisit at a later date. We haven’t seen the last of him yet. But this little story, first published in Cosmo, gives a glimpse into PI, Elise North’s life before a certain demon turned it upside down.

As you know, from previous Medusa Consortium stories, in Magda Gardener’s world, nothing is ever simple where relationships and sex are concerned. And Elise is no exception. There are always complications. I hope you enjoy Elise’s pursuit of Mr. Sands, and I bet you can guess who has hired her for this little task.

 

In Pursuit of Mr. Sands

Five hot summer nights, I followed Mr. Sands in and out of clubs and bars in Soho. Sometimes it took him the better part of the night to pick up a woman, though he could have had his choice. Sometimes he found the one he wanted in the very first bar. There was no pattern, no rhyme or reason, no similarity that I could see in his choices. He never took them home. He never told them his name. He never fucked them. But he always made them come. Their response was unanimously a mix of ecstatic release and surprise, as though they hadn’t expected it.

He took them in alleys, in stairwells, even once on a crowded dance floor. It was always quick, always intense and it always felt a bit dangerous. He didn’t mind if the women bit or clawed or howled like wolves. They always came, but Mr. Sands never did. I wondered if he practiced some form of eastern discipline that enhanced male pleasure through refraining from ejaculation.

I’m a PI, and monitoring Mr. Sands’ nightly wanderings is my job. The woman who hired me to tail him isn’t his ex or a psycho lover. She claims she’s never met the man. But hey, everyone’s kink is different. If she gets off on my reports, then who am I to judge, as long as she pays me. And she pays me well. In fact she set me up in a posh flat with a view across the street right into Mr. Sands’ posh flat. Though it hasn’t helped much. He keeps his curtains drawn.

Every night Mr. Sands goes out at exactly ten, and every night I follow him. Every night I watch as women flirt and eyeball him longingly until he finally makes his choice. Some nights he wines and dines the lucky girl. Some nights, he simply takes her hand and leads her off to do the deed. Last night, his choice was a porcelain-skinned woman with ginger hair. He led her from the bar without so much as a word. She was breathless, wide-eyed, her full breasts bouncing in her scanty bronze sheath as she struggled to keep up with him in stilettos she was none to steady on. I could almost feel the sense of urgency that might have been hers, might have been his. The dress was tight enough that the lack of panties was evident, a bit too tight for a woman so well curved. But Mr. Sands didn’t seem interested in fashion or conventional beauty.

He pressed her up against a small loading dock in the ally, taking her mouth as though she were his favourite dish, slapping her hands away from his fly, though even I could see his bulge through my binoculars. There beneath the streetlight, he freed her breasts into his hands, thumbing and raking peach gumdrop nipples and heavily stippled areolae.

She sounded like a kitten mewing for its mother as he scrunched her dress until her Brazilian was as bare as her breasts. She gave a little yelp as he hoisted her up onto the loading dock and palmed her thighs wide apart forcing her back onto her elbows. One shoe dropped to the pavement with a muted thud as he cupped his hands behind her knees and pulled her closer to his face. Then he fingered her, studied her, caressed her as though he’d never seen a pussy before. All the while, she moaned and whimpered and squirmed against the hard concrete. “Please,” she begged. “Oh please.” But he ignored her keening.

When, at last, he spoke, his voice was velvet against bare skin, “You’ve been pretending. But you don’t need to for me.” Then he buried his face between her thighs, and she bucked and gyrated against him tugging and pulling at her breasts. Once again, he slapped her hands away and reached up to knead her almost as though he were raising his arms in an act of worship. He pinched and thumbed while never slacking in his efforts between her thighs. Her cries became guttural, like he’d awakened something feral in her, something that could now no longer be caged. He slid his hands down to cup her bum and drew her closer, as though he might crawl up inside her right next to that feral thing he’d awakened. She came with an animal howl that sent shivers up my spine and made the view from the binoculars shudder with the hammering of my pulse. At last he pulled away and wiped his face on the back of his arm. Then he mantled her close, covering her lips with kisses, she all but sobbing into his mouth.

Finally she spoke in little gasps of effort. “I’ve never had an orgasm before.”

“I know,” was all he said, as he bent to retrieve her shoe and gently slipped it onto her foot.

I stood in shock at her revelation, at his. The woman had never had an orgasm? Did he choose his women that way? But then how the hell would he know? I was so lost in my speculations that I had to scramble back into an alcove in front of a service entrance to keep from being seen as Mr. Sands escorted her back to the bar.

And just like that it was over. I knew the drill by now. The woman would return to her friends with a smile on her face, and Mr. Sands would go home.

I followed him, as I always did, then took the lift to my flat. Inside I stripped to tank and panties, wilted from the relentless heat. It was one of the few summer days each year when it hadn’t cooled down much at night. I poured myself a glass of cab. Usually unwinding from a night of tailing Mr. Sands meant a little hands-on. I had a vibrator, but there was something about our nightly rendezvous that gave me the urge to touch myself. Maybe the total lack of penetrative sex in those steamy encounters made me empathetic. My last task every working day was to open my curtains and make sure Mr. Sands was at home. He always was. Though his curtains were perpetually drawn, I could make out the cinnamon glow of lamplight inside. Occasionally I could see the shadow of movement back and forth beyond the drawn drapes. That was my cue for some ‘me time,’ as I fantasized about what he did after he came home late at night unsatisfied.

With wine glass in hand and my mind on the night’s intriguing discoveries, the curtain was completely open before I turned to find that Mr. Sands, for once, had followed suit. He stood looking right at me, wearing only grey track bottoms slung low around his hips, his chest glistening from the heat. I froze gaping, as he sipped a whiskey and brazenly looked me up and down. I’d been compromised. My client had warned me to make sure he never saw me. But I was confident, maybe a little arrogant. I was good at my job. I should have shut the curtains and left. But I just stood there like a rabbit in the headlights, my nipples stiffening beneath my tank top as surely as if he’d stroked them as he had the redhead’s. The quirk of his lips, the trailing of his gaze over my body sent shockwaves of heat core deep. The clench between my thighs, the subtle shifting of my hips wouldn’t have been noticeable by anyone. Hell, I could make myself come on a crowded bus and no one was the wiser. But he knew. I was certain he knew.

I raised my glass for a much-needed drink and miscalculated, dribbling red wine across white cotton and a distended nipple. His gaze was not subtle as he nodded to my breasts. I knew exactly what he wanted. Slowly, I lifted the glass and drizzled the cab across my breasts – all of it, gasping at the shock of it, biting my lip, closing my eyes just long enough to savor the sensation. When I opened them, he slid a hand inside the front of his track bottoms. It wasn’t difficult to tell he was hard, nor that he was substantial. I took in the shape of him as brazenly as he had me, giving my own little nod. But he only shook his head and raised an eyebrow making it clear that it was tit for tat.

Caught in his gaze, I could scarcely breathe, I could scarcely believe the risk I was taking. He knew where I was. He knew what I’d done. And yet I lifted my wet shirt  off over my head, the AC tightening my nipples still further. As he watched, I slid a hand into my panties mirroring his movements. I fingered my way down between my thighs, gasping at the slick swell of me, my tide pool scent filling the room as I began to stroke.

His own stroking had exposed the base of his cock in its nest of dark curls, and my mouth watered. I nodded again, wanting to see that tool he’d kept hidden all these nights, desperate to see him lose that cast iron control.

He gulped the rest of his whiskey and set the glass aside. Then he slid the other hand beneath his waistband to scoop and cup his sac, and I moaned my approval as his efforts revealed just a little more. And then it was a stand-off, neither of us blinking, neither of us flinching, we rubbed and stroked and flaunted ourselves, each in an effort to will the other into that final reveal. He shifted and pumped and moved in such a way that I could make out almost every detail of his heavy package from beneath the tease of fabric. The lust in his eyes was laced with something slightly wicked. Strange I’d never realized fear could be such a turn-on. I wanted to run and hide even as I wanted him to fuck me with his eyes.

I pulled my fingers from my panties and raised them to my mouth, giving him a hungry stare as I tasted my own slickness, then I sucked. He bit his lip and his body jerked. For a horrible moment I thought he’d come without me. But he took a deep breath and nodded. It was time. I slid a thumb into the edge of my panties and, with the other hand, counted down. Three…two…one. We both dropped our drawers. After that things got serious. He stepped closer to the window, as close as he could get to me. One hand cupped, the other stroked and tugged the heavy length of him as though it were seriously in need of taming.

Without looking away, I reached behind me and pulled the Queen Anne chair close. Then I plopped down splaying my legs over the arms so that he could see my efforts, fingers darting and circling, dipping and scissoring, butt raised high to give him a better view. The look on his face was utter concentration. I imagine mine was the same. As his orgasm burst in heavy spurts against the windowpane, I convulsed my own release, nearly upsetting the chair.

Afterwards we just stared at each other, still cupping ourselves, too stunned to think, too spent to move. But at last, he bent, pulled up his track bottoms and tucked his cock. He studied me for a long moment, the hunger in his eyes making me squirm in that place between arousal and fear. Then he waved a finger at me as though I’d been a naughty girl. Finally, he blew me a kiss and drew the curtains. The next morning, to my relief, and my disappointment, Mr. Sands was gone. But I’ll track him down. He has secrets I want. It is my job, after all. And I’m good at what I do.

 

Out Now—Sapphic Seduction by Lucy Felthouse (@cw1985) #sapphic #lesfic #erotica #lesbian

Sapphic SeductionBlurb:

If you enjoy short tales of ladies loving each other, then get your hands on this collection from the pen of award-winning author Lucy Felthouse.

From Zumba classes to army basic training, surfer chicks to mechanics, and even a lost dog, this book has variety galore. There’s something for everyone, and will have you eager to turn just one more page.

Enjoy twelve titillating tales, over 45,000 words of Sapphic delight.

Please note: The stories in this anthology have been previously published.

Buy links:

Amazon: http://mybook.to/sapphicseduction

Barnes & Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/books/1130012655

Google: https://play.google.com/store/books/details/Lucy_Felthouse_Sapphic_Seduction?id=uwV_DwAAQBAJ

iBooks: https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/sapphic-seduction/id1446922785?mt=11

Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/ca/en/ebook/sapphic-seduction

Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/912552?ref=cw1985

*****

Excerpt:

Verity’s phone buzzed in her pocket, reminding her of an angry—and insistent—bee. Sighing, she pulled the device out and looked at the screen. Rolling her eyes, she rejected the call, then pressed the off button. Fuck her family and their petty dramas—she did enough for them, and they never appreciated it. Let them deal with their own shit for a change. She’d come here for some peace and solitude, and that was what she was damn well going to get.

After showing her membership card to the kindly old lady at the kiosk, Verity passed through the gate and into the gardens of Biddulph Grange. The beautiful stately home, sadly, was private, but the stunning landscaped gardens were open to the public. The place was already off the beaten track—nestled as it was, deep in the Staffordshire countryside—but once Verity stepped inside the huge gardens, she felt a million miles from anywhere.

Closing her eyes momentarily, she pulled in a deep breath through her nostrils, and released it from her mouth. Already she felt better, the stress and irritation seeping out of her and disappearing into the gravelled path beneath her feet. This place was her refuge, her sanctuary. She never told anyone where she went when she disappeared off for a few hours every couple of weeks—more often if her family was being more difficult than usual—and that was the beauty of it. No one knew where she was, no one could bother her. All she had was herself and the cacophony of nature within the garden walls, and that was precisely how she wanted it.

Letting out a contented sigh this time, she shut out all the unpleasant thoughts, emptying her mind, and concentrated only on what was around her. What she could see, what she could hear, what she could smell.

Her favourite thing about the gardens—aside from their being her escape—was the fact they seemed to look different every time she visited. Nature took its course: trees and bushes grew, plants flowered, leaves turned and dropped. New plants were introduced, old or diseased ones were removed.

The wildlife was wonderful, too. A huge variety of birds fluttered, swooped and hopped around, tweeting, twittering and singing. Butterflies and squirrels also made frequent appearances. They never failed to make Verity smile, and today was no exception. A further weight was lifted from her as her lips curved into a grin, and she breathed in deeply through her nostrils. The air smelled fresh, yet something lingered, hinting at something to come.

Verity tilted her head back and looked up at the sky. Hmm, that could be it. There was a thick covering of cloud, not particularly ominous-looking, but then that was British weather for you. It could, and did, change in the blink of an eye.

Shrugging, Verity carried on walking. She was here now—she wasn’t going to leave just in case it rained. Even if it did, so what? A little rain never killed anyone. It could actually be kind of refreshing.

Putting one foot in front of the other, she followed her nose through the landscape, admiring everything she saw, and exchanging polite nods and smiles with the handful of people she met. And it was only a handful. Perhaps others had checked the weather forecast before coming out and had been deterred. More fool them.

On the other hand, though, she thanked them. It meant she had the place pretty much to herself. Smiling, she allowed her imagination to run away with itself, painting a picture of a scenario where Verity owned the stately home currently hidden from view, and was wandering in her own private gardens. Every tree, every bush, every flower, every blade of grass was on her land, and she loved it. Having such an amazing place to call her own… well, she knew how lucky she was.

She was snapped out of her grand and wonderful fantasy by something that didn’t look quite right. Blinking, she focussed on whatever it was over to her left-hand side that seemed to stand out like a sore thumb. She frowned and stepped closer, still not entirely sure what she was seeing. Though it definitely wasn’t a thumb, sore or otherwise.

*****

Author Bio:

Lucy Felthouse is the award-winning author of erotic romance novels Stately Pleasures (named in the top 5 of Cliterati.co.uk’s 100 Modern Erotic Classics That You’ve Never Heard Of, and an Amazon bestseller), Eyes Wide Open (winner of the Love Romances Café’s Best Ménage Book 2015 award, and an Amazon bestseller), The Persecution of the Wolves, Hiding in Plain Sight and The Heiress’s Harem series. Including novels, short stories and novellas, she has over 170 publications to her name. Find out more about her writing at http://lucyfelthouse.co.uk, or on Twitter or Facebook. Join her Facebook group for exclusive cover reveals, sneak peeks and more! Sign up for automatic updates on Amazon or BookBub. Subscribe to her newsletter here: http://www.subscribepage.com/lfnewsletter

Release blitz organised by Writer Marketing Services.

 

Success or Love of Writing? by Akinyi Prinzessin von K’Orinda-Yimbo (A P von K’Ory)

I often get asked to reveal to the source of my achievements, even my “success” in writing. This is of course very flattering and good for my scribe’s ego. But I’m just as unsure of where I am or going to, same as the next writer. I don’t really see myself as such a success, but I’ve succeeded in improving my writing and finding my “Voice”. I believe we writers always need to have some reassurance or at least another person we can turn to as a sounding board to either confirm or dispel our insecurities about ourselves and our work.

My “weakness” is my British English, my mother tongue. But that does not say I wouldn’t put my le Carré aside when I grab a good Grisham or Dan Brown. Romance fascinate me, followed by the psychological thriller and Grip Lit genres. Therefore my addiction to writing romance with thriller elements worked in them, and sex scenes involving psychological games.

My own romance books involve interracial love relationships. The Bound to Tradition trilogy, which won me the Writer of the Year Achiever Award 2013 in the Netherlands, is one good such an example. This is an aspect of writing that often plagues me – I prefer to write about what I know and what I’d personally read. I do bring the famous “What if…” into play in the male/female/intercultural negations.

The novels I write tend to be opulent because I’m acquainted with that world and can move around it with ease.  But I can also put the billionaire right in the middle of a poor shack in India or the African jungle and do a mix of dialogue because I love the mind games of cultural differences. We all have cultural spectacles and earphones so that one and the same words are interpreted differently using these cultural spectacles and earphones.

Writers might have a facility for writing, or telling stories, or coming up with brilliant characters, or dialogue. But what should a writer write about? I need to have at least one of the above in place to even start thinking of a story. Writing is the hardest work I’ll ever do and probably the least remunerative of any profession in today’s market of commercial writing, where art seem to have been abandoned.

I have found my particular voice and subject matter plus medium, and stick to them in all I write, fiction and nonfiction. I know in my belly when those passages flow and I write easily with a smile twitching at the corner of my mouth.

And yes, I have writers I admire and analyse why I admire them, what draws me to their writing or their Message or their Voice.

BUY LINKS IN KINDLE – Please note that the books are also available in paperbacks:

UK Kindle: https://www.amazon.co.uk/Golden-Shana-Chase-von-KOry-ebook/dp/B00WA7M3OC/

UK Kindle: https://www.amazon.co.uk/Golden-Shana-Capture-von-KOry-ebook/dp/B06X1DGGMZ/

UK: https://www.amazon.co.uk/Golden-Shana-Untouchable-von-KOry-ebook/dp/B07H1YY28C#reader_1725967073

US Kindle: https://www.amazon.com/Golden-Shana-Capture-von-KOry-ebook/dp/B06X1DGGMZ/

US Kindle: https://www.amazon.com/Golden-Shana-Untouchable-von-KOry-ebook/dp/B07H1YY28C/

UK Untouchable PB: https://www.amazon.co.uk/Golden-Shana-Untouchable-von-KOry/dp/1725967073

Website http://www.Akinyi-princess.de

Twitter  https://www.twitter.com/Apky11162

Facebook

Facebook Author Page:          https://www.facebook.com/AuthorAPVonKOry/

Facebook Timeline:                https://www.facebook.com/apvonkory

FB Golden Shana Series:       https://www.facebook.com/Goshanaliterotic/

FB Editor/Services:                https://www.facebook.com/KOrindaYimbo/

FB AuthorMePro Press:         https://www.facebook.com/Professionaless62bloggerP/

FB Readers & Reviewers:     https://www.facebook.com/AkinyiReadersReviews/

Amazon Author Page: https://www.amazon.co.uk/A-P-Von-KOry/e/B00MDHD7ZS

*****

GIVEAWAY!

Make sure to follow the whole tour—the more posts you visit throughout, the more chances you’ll get to enter the giveaway. The tour dates are here: http://writermarketing.co.uk/prpromotion/blog-tours/currently-on-tour/a-p-von-kory/

Enter for your chance to win a Kindle copy of one of A P von K’Ory’s backlist books!

a Rafflecopter giveaway

 

Multi-Orgasmic Vol 2 by Lucy Felthouse (@cw1985) #erotica

Blurb

If you’re a fan of erotic short stories, then get your hands on this collection from the pen of award-winning erotica author Lucy Felthouse.

From famous movie stars to sexy farmers, holiday flings to seducing delivery drivers, and even unusual household items being used as bondage, this book has variety galore. It’s sure to get you hot under the collar and eager to turn just one more page.

Enjoy nineteen titillating tales, over 54,000 words of naughtiness packed into one steamy read.

Please note: Many of the stories in this book have been previously published in anthologies, as standalones, and online, but three are brand new and never seen before!

Buy links

Amazon: http://mybook.to/MOV2

B&N: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/multi-orgasmic-vol-2-lucy-felthouse/1129829792?ean=2940155871637

iBooks: https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/multi-orgasmic-vol-2-a-collection-of-short-stories/id1441592585?mt=11

Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/ca/en/ebook/multi-orgasmic-vol-2

Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/905453?ref=cw1985

*****

Excerpt:

“Yvette!” Jack snapped. “Are you even listening to what I’m saying?”

“Yes, Sir!” I’d only missed a bit. Maybe a couple of words. And it wasn’t my fault.

“So what’s the problem? Are you uncomfortable? Would you like a cushion?”

“No, Sir. I’m fine, thank you. It’s just…” As another noise filtered in through the double glazing, I was unable to stop my gaze slipping in that direction.

“What—?” Jack strode past me, all stompy and masterful.

I allowed myself a shiver of pleasure at his demeanour. He was sexy when he was grumpy, though naturally I didn’t enjoy it when he was grumpy with me.

He peered out the window to see what had distracted me. “Neighbour is mowing his lawn, that’s all. Can’t very well go around there and complain about that, can I?” he muttered.

Jack stepped back in front of me. “The window is closed, Yvette. I can’t really do any more than that.” He shrugged.

“It’s okay, Sir. He’ll be done soon. I can ignore it. It’s not that loud.” Ever since he’d given me that look and ordered me into the bedroom, my pussy had ached, and I had yearned for his orders, to do his bidding. To please him. I certainly didn’t want to displease him by allowing the next-door-bloody-neighbour’s garden maintenance to get in the way of our scene, but it’d be tough to remain entirely focused with that racket going on.

“Hmm. All right, then. Let’s continue. So, where were we?”

I hoped like hell that was a rhetorical question, because I’d been distracted enough by the noise outside that I hadn’t, in fact, heard all of what he’d said. I bowed my head and waited, mentally keeping my fingers crossed that Jack would answer his own question. Luckily for me, he did.

“Come here, take out my cock, and suck it.”

“Yes, Sir!” I almost got carpet burns on my knees as I eagerly shuffled forward. I reached out and undid his zipper. Slipping my right hand through the gap, I manoeuvred until my fingers closed around his shaft—which was rigid, red hot, and irresistible.

Carefully, I popped his cock out through the opening in his boxers and trousers, where it stood proudly, looking just as irresistible as it felt. All purple and swollen; raring to go. Licking my lips, I pumped my fist up and down his length a couple of times, before closing my mouth around his glans. Immediately, the delicious musky, salty taste of him hit my taste buds and I hummed happily and prepared to start sinking further onto him.

Just then, a high-pitched roaring sound reached my ears.

Jack picked up on my flinch. Stepping back—and slipping his dick out of my mouth in the process—he exclaimed, “Oh, for heaven’s sake! It’s really distracting you, isn’t it?”

I sat back on my heels and pouted. “I’m sorry, Sir! I can’t not hear. If I could switch my ears off, trust me, I would.”

Jack’s expression softened. “Hey, it’s okay. It’s not your fault. It’s just… kinda ruining what we’ve got going on here.”

I bit my lip. “Yeah, I know. But what are we supposed to do about it?”

*****

Bio

Lucy Felthouse is the award-winning author of erotic romance novels Stately Pleasures (named in the top 5 of Cliterati.co.uk’s 100 Modern Erotic Classics That You’ve Never Heard Of, and an Amazon bestseller), Eyes Wide Open (winner of the Love Romances Café’s Best Ménage Book 2015 award, and an Amazon bestseller), The Persecution of the Wolves, Hiding in Plain Sight and The Heiress’s Harem series. Including novels, short stories and novellas, she has over 170 publications to her name. Find out more about her writing at http://lucyfelthouse.co.uk, or on Twitter or Facebook. Join her Facebook group for exclusive cover reveals, sneak peeks and more! Sign up for automatic updates on Amazon or BookBub. Subscribe to her newsletter here: http://www.subscribepage.com/lfnewsletter

 

Release blitz organised by Writer Marketing Services.

 

A Kink a Day – Book One, Two and Three by Kay Jaybee (@kay_jaybee)

In an ever more stressful world, what could be better than relaxing after a tough day with a bite sized morsel of erotica? Each edition of Kay Jaybee’s ‘A Kink a Day’ series delivers eight hot reads. One for each night of the week and a spare in case you fancy a weekend lie-in.

These compilations of Kay’s most popular short stories from previous anthologies, combined with a few new works, provide a few precious moments of pure erotic escapism.

Buy links:

Book One:

Amazon UK: https://amzn.to/2v1nCKV
Amazon US: https://amzn.to/2uYKMBK
Barnes & Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/a-kink-a-day-book-one-kay-jaybee/1129186874?ean=2940155351566
iBooks: https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/a-kink-a-day-book-one/id1419574921?mt=11
Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/gb/en/ebook/a-kink-a-day-book-one
Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/883582?ref=cw1985

 

Book Two:

Amazon UK: https://amzn.to/2Aje7fj
Amazon US: https://amzn.to/2K7qSsN
Barnes & Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/a-kink-a-day-book-two-kay-jaybee/1129186873?ean=2940155351573
iBooks: https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/a-kink-a-day-book-two/id1419589804?mt=11
Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/gb/en/ebook/a-kink-a-day-book-two
Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/883586?ref=cw1985

 

Book Three:

Amazon UK: https://amzn.to/2mRMssg
Amazon US: https://amzn.to/2LNzaep
Barnes & Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/a-kink-a-day-book-three-kay-jaybee/1129186872?ean=2940155351580
iBooks: https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/a-kink-a-day-book-three/id1419589851?mt=11
Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/gb/en/ebook/a-kink-a-day-book-three
Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/883590?ref=cw1985

 

Here’s an extract from A Delivery of Words (A Kink a Day: Book One)

Leaning forward, I fixed Joe with my professional stare, but allowed a flicker of a smile to play at the corner of my eyes, ‘What’s the thing that gets you going exactly? The fact you deliver naughty books and sex-toys to my house? The idea of me sitting here innocently writing porn? Or the fact that I spend most of my time thinking about sex?’

My courier returned my steady look, but I could see amusement struggling to escape from the corner of his lips. ‘I asked you a question?’

Joe grinned, giving me a glimpse of surprisingly white teeth. ‘I guess it’s the innocence thing.’

‘Innocence? That’s not a word I’m usually associated with.’

‘I bet it’s not!’ He picked up his coffee cup and took a thoughtful sip. ‘At least, not by people who know you. To the rest of the world, well, you look so, so …’

‘Ordinary?’ I smiled to let him know the word wasn’t offensive to me.

‘Well, yes, I mean, you’re attractive and all that, but you don’t look like a queen of porn.’

‘Exactly.’

‘I’m sorry?’

‘I don’t look a threat, so people tell me things. Their most intimate secrets. It’s a bit like being an actress really. I adopt different personas to get information and stories out of the unsuspecting public, and then I write about what they’ve told me.’

‘So you don’t make it all up then?’

‘Not always, no. Sometimes I invent short stories, but most of the time I record the weird and wonderful exploits of the unbelievably and wonderfully warped public.’

‘Oh.’

I could tell he was disappointed, so I leant forward and gave Joe my flirtiest conspiratorial look. ‘Any stories you wish to share?’

Now he looked really embarrassed. ‘Not really. Nothing unusual enough for you, I’m sure.’

‘Would you like there to be?’…

 

Bio

Kay Jaybee was named Best Erotica Writer of 2015 by the ETO

Kay received an honouree mention at the NLA Awards 2015 for excellence in BDSM writing.

Kay Jaybee has over 180 erotica publications including, A Kink a Day- Book One, Two and Three (KJBooks, 2018), The Voyeur (Sinful Press, 2018), Knowing Her Place-Book 3: The Perfect Submissive Trilogy, (KJBooks, 2018),  The Retreat- Book2: The Perfect Submissive Trilogy (KJBooks, 2018), Making Him Wait (Sinful Press, 2018), The Fifth Floor- Book1;The Perfect Submissive Trilogy (KJBooks, 2017), Wednesday on Thursday, (KDP, 2017), The Collector (KDP, 2016), A Sticky Situation (Xcite, 2013), Digging Deep, (Xcite 2013), Take Control, (1001 NightsPress, 2014), and Not Her Type (1001 NightsPress), 2013.

Details of all her short stories and other publications can be found at www.kayjaybee.me.uk

You can follow Kay on –

Amazon – – https://www.amazon.co.uk/Kay-Jaybee/e/B004O0S9GO/ref=sr_ntt_srch_lnk_1?qid=1534155776&sr=1-1

Twitter- https://twitter.com/kay_jaybee

Facebook –http://www.facebook.com/KayJaybeeAuthor

Goodreads- http://www.goodreads.com/user/show/3541958-kay-jaybee

Brit Babes Site- http://thebritbabes.blogspot.co.uk/p/kay-jaybee.html

Kay also writes contemporary romance and children’s picture books as Jenny Kane www.jennykane.co.uk  and historical fiction as Jennifer Ash www.jenniferash.co.uk

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© 2018 K D Grace
The Romance Reviews

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