Tag Archives: erotica

Kyoko Church’s Mad and Sexy Inspiration For Her Pleasure

March 18, 2013Blog, Guest BloggerBDSM, erotic fiction, erotica, femdom, For Her Pleasure, kyoko church, Mischief Books, novella, submissionK D Grace

Hello KD! Thank you once again for welcoming me to your blog today. A pleasure, as always.

Today I wanted to talk about a source of inspiration for my new book, For Her Pleasure. Namely the TV show, Mad Men. If you like well written HBO (or I guess technically AMC) dramas this, in my opinion, is one of their best. It’s so well done, the plots are hugely engrossing, the characters are superbly flawed and beautifully three dimensional, I really can’t say enough about how much I love this series. Because of my travels and my intermittent access to pay channels, I’ve only just started season five so if you know what happens, don’t tell me!! But while I was just starting to write for HarperCollins Mischief Books, I was firmly entrenched in season four. And while very much lusting after Don Draper – seriously, don’t get me started, this post is not about that! – even this mostly heterosexual girl could not help but be seduced by the fiery sexuality that is Joan Holloway.

First of all, one only has to take a quick glimpse at actress Christina Hendricks to know that there is something amazingly sexual about her. I love that she is so voluptuous, buxom, bursting with sensuality. And the way they dress her on the show is perfection. They do everything to highlight all her curves and proportions in the sexiest way imaginable. I mean, I’m not a guy but even I cannot help but think…WOW! Just… wow.

Pair that with the personality they give her: assured, haughty, unrelenting, take no prisoners. She always seems like she’s one step ahead, and giggling about it too. She can cut anyone, man or woman, to the quick with just one glance. And speaking of glances, she can make a barbed comment and then look at the person, so innocently when they both know full well she knows exactly what she’s saying and just how accurate and close to the bone it is. And she does it all while appearing to be sympathizing with the person. It’s so bitchy! Awesomely, awesomely bitchy. Check this out, to have a small glimpse at what I mean. I was inspired, to say the least.

Here’s the thing. By and large, little girls are taught to “be nice.” I certainly was! And truth be told, I like being nice! Even teasing, however good natured, can sometimes make me really uncomfortable since, as everyone knows, what makes a good tease is always that there has to be some element of truth to it. So, generally speaking, in my day to day life I walk around enjoying being nice. Not to be too Pollyanna about it but I believe the old adage that what goes around comes around. Plus I think being a nice person is just an enjoyable way to live your life.

But.

Something happened to me when I started to delve into the idea of Joan’s character being in a BDSM relationship. I started asking myself questions like, what if she were a Domme… what if she were with a man who got off on humiliation… what would their relationship look like? I felt a new voice creep inside me. One day, I sat down at my laptop and within ten minutes I wrote this email from my perspective Mistress to her perspective sub…

From: Mistress

To: SubPaul

Subject: For Your Drive

Hi! This email is for your drive home. If you have opened it before then, stop, close this up. Open it back up when you are about to drive home. Put it away. Now.

Okay. Are you alone now? Good boy. Have you been thinking about me? Of course you have. You’re always thinking about me, aren’t you? I’ve taken up residence in that naughty little brain of yours.

I have to address the fact that your wife doesn’t go down on you. Have you wondered why I haven’t commented on that in our emails? Did you think I hadn’t noticed or maybe it wasn’t important to me? Oh no. No, no, no. I took very keen notice of that. I have thought about that. A LOT. Because here’s something you should know about me. I LOVE to suck cock. I fucking love it. The power. I really get off on the power of it. I know that if I had my lips and tongue anywhere near your cock right now I would have complete control over you. Total.

So, Mr. I-haven’t-had-a-blowjob-in-20-years, when I get my hands on you again I’m going to strip you down, sit you on a chair, cuff your hands behind your back and start licking. That spot. You know that spot? Oh yes, the one just under your head, that sensitive spot that you told me you couldn’t touch because it gets you there too quickly? Aw, poor baby. Too fucking bad. I like that spot. I would flick and tongue and kiss and suck that spot until you were a pleading, begging, weeping, sopping fucking mess. Don’t you dare cum in my face. I mean, Mistress loves cum, but I don’t want it yet. You fucking hold it back, slut.

Now. Put your phone away. Start your car. And think about this email the whole way home. Try subtly to get wifey to fuck you tonight. Report back to me in the morning.

Kisses!

*****

I wrote that email in one fell swoop and – I’ve never tried hard core drugs before but – I imagine the rush I got from writing it might be akin to that sort of high. It was one of those moments you hear artists talk about when they create something that seems to come from outside of themselves and they think… Where the hell did that come from? I certainly had that feeling. I wrote it and thought… Who the fuck was that??

That email became the basis for a short story, Something Twisted This Way Comes, which appeared in Mischief’s My Secret Life anthology. One more short story later and I was certain I wasn’t done with these characters. I knew I wanted to devote a whole book to them. I was having so much fun being Mistress!

So that was the genesis of For Her Pleasure. I hope you’ve enjoyed hearing about it. I certainly enjoyed telling the story. And if you found it intriguing, I hope you’ll check out the book too!

Blurb:

Imagine an average guy with a wife, a job, average house, average car, average sex life… Well, not exactly. He has a secret he finds so embarrassing that he never talks to anyone about it. And then one day he meets her…

An architect chairs the newly formed Sexual Harassment in the Workplace Committee. When the consultant he hires to help him organize the new committee turns out to be a red haired bombshell, he tries to rein in his untoward thoughts.

But when she uncovers his embarrassing little secrets, this married man ends up in a relationship that’s so wrong on every level of his carefully put together life.

How long will he let his burning carnal desires threaten everything he’s worked so hard for?

Buy Links:

Barnes and Noble

About Kyoko Church:

Kyoko Church discovered the power of the written erotic word when she was 16 years old and penned a very explicit missive to her boyfriend detailing all the naughty things she wanted to do to him. When he received it, boyfriend was impressed. When he found it, father was not.

For the next 18 years she hid her naughty thoughts in shame. Until she found a community where they were once again appreciated for the well-imagined smut they are. Her short stories have been published in anthologies by Black Lace, Rubicund Publishing and Xcite Books. Book One, Nymphomania, and Book Two, Sapphic Secrets, in her Draper Estate Trilogy were published by Xcite in 2012. For Her Pleasure was published by HarperCollins Mischief in February 2013.

A Canuck by birth, she has recently made Australia her home. She is currently learning to drive on the left and say G’day convincingly.

Find Kyoko here:

Website: kyokochurch.blogspot.com

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/kyoko.church

Twitter: https://twitter.com/kyokochurch

Pinterest: http://pinterest.com/kyokochurch/

Kinky Boots Go Walking on a Sexy Blog Tour

March 17, 2013Blog, New Releasesblog tour, erotic fiction, erotic romance, erotica, Kinky Boots, Mischief Books, new release, novellaK D Grace

Who doesn’t love a good pair of boots? A good pair of boots can make you feel sexy and powerful, like you’re ready to conquer the whole world. And if a good pair of boot is nice, a kinky pair of boots is even better. Beginning Monday 18 March, I’ll be taking Kinky Boots on tour. For a week I’ll be parading Jill and Finn and Eleanor and Meinrad and their naughty antics around to some of the hottest, naughtiest blog you could ever hope to visit. Here’s where the Kinky Boots gang will be. Come join us for the fun and frolic.

Find Kinky Boots on These Naughty Sites:

18^th Marchhttp://sexyreads.co.uk
19^th Marchhttp://dawnsreadingnook.blogspot.com/
20^th Marchhttp://www.bookinitreviews.com/
21^st Marchhttp://galestanley.blogspot.com
22^nd Marchhttp://adrianakraft.com/blog
22^nd Marchhttp://blissekiss.co.uk/ {Extra Snog Stop}

Blurb:

After a sizzling encounter in Kinky Boots, a quirky all-night shoe store, with the store’s hot owner, FINN MASTERS, JILL HART walks away in the most gorgeous boots ever. Her new boots come with an unexpected bonus, a sexy demon named ELEANOR, who’s looking for a good time. All she lacks is a body, and Jill’s will do nicely.

Jill quits her dead-end job and, not knowing what’s come over her stops by the nearest pub intent on doing tequila shots until she falls off the stool. Instead she does FINN MASTERS in the beer garden, unwittingly participating in her first ever threesome. The boots were the bait, the timing was right and Eleanor has new digs. It’s Finn job to prevent Eleanor’s misbehaving. His failure means he’ll have to ride shotgun and do damage control until Eleanor moves out at the next full moon.

With Eleanor in residence, Jill’s bolder, sexier, willing to take risks. But is she a whole new Jill, or is it just demon courage? And how will Finn feel about her when she’s just plain Jill again? Will the maddeningly magical ménage make Jill’s dreams come true, or will it break her heart?

Excerpt:

The clerk lifted her right foot into his hand. She tried to squirm away but he held her firmly flashing her a concerned glance from under a drawn brow. ‘You could have seriously injured your feet walking around Shoreditch at night in someone else’s shoes.’

The skirt she wore was a denim mini, and the way he sat between her legs made her feel exposed, vulnerable, and something a lot more yummy. As he ran his thumbs up her instep and over the pad of her foot, she shifted in the chair sliding down to accommodate his inspection.

‘Shoes are so important. They protect our feet, our soles, the only part of us that regularly contacts the earth. They allow us that intimate connection with our planet while at the same time keeping us safe from it.’ He continued his inspection of her feet, hands moving gently over her arch to the ball then to her toes as he cupped her heel in a warm hand. ‘No two people’s soles contact the earth in the same way.’

Her pulse thudded at the enthusiasm of his little speech which, along with his gentle inspection of her feet, felt shockingly intimate, even more so than if he had actually peeked up her skirt. His actions were having a cumulative effect low between her hip bones. ‘Maybe you could sell me something a little more suited to me.’ Her words rushed out breathless and unsteady.

He placed both hands on his thighs and looked up at her. ‘Did you have a pair in mind?’

She gave a quick glance around the store, and her eyes lit on a pair of mauve boots that came up just over the ankle, low on the calf. They sported delicate kitten heels and were threaded with sage green laces that looked more like ribbons, ‘How about those,’ she said. Then she blushed fiercely. They were lovely, elegant, and any idiot could see, totally not suited for someone like her. ‘Or maybe something a little more practical.’ She avoided his gaze. ‘A little less flashy.’

Ignoring her second thoughts, he stood and walked to the rack. She couldn’t keep from noticing how nicely his butt filled out his jeans. She could imagine that arse had sold more than a few pairs of shoes to women who liked a good view. It was then she realized he had taken the boots straight off the display. ‘I’m hard to fit,’ she said as he knelt in front of her and unlaced one boot.

‘Trust me–’ he smiled up at her, opened the boot and offered it to her like Cinderella’s Prince Charming ‘– I can fit you just fine.’

Aural Pleasures Revisited: Fond Memories of Filthy Words

March 16, 2013Blog, Guest Blogger, InspirationA Night of Aural Pleasure, erotic readings, erotica, erotica writers, eroticon 2013, poetryK D Grace

When Kristina Lloyd suggested I do a post about the Night of Aural Pleasure readings at the Lock Stock bar for Eroticon 2013, I agreed happily, but only if I could get some of the fabulous writers I’d had the priveledge to read with that night to share a bit of their experience and even titilate us just a tad with a few lines from what you missed if you weren’t there, and what you enjoyed totally if you were. Once again I’d like to thank the lovely and talented Harper Eliot for arranging the whole event, not an easy task, and I sincerely hope that there’ll be lots more such readings and opportunities to rub shoulders with some of my favourite writers in the future.

I thought the whole evening was fun, exciting and really, really entertaining. I was listening to some of my favourite writers sharing the words they’d published and written. Speaking as someone who loves the written and spoken word, I don’t think the pleasure comes much better. The atmosphere was welcoming and supportive and I can’t wait until next year if there’s a chance to repeat the experience.

Below are the opening verses from one of the poems I read (Betty & I) the story of a man who takes a blow-up doll to a swingers’ party.

Betty and I

We went to one of those swingers’ parties,

Me and my blow-up doll: Betty.

She wanted to add a new kink to our lives.

I just went there to get sweaty.

Our relationship was at a low point.

And it had been that way for a bit.

But I still tried to treat her with flowers or clothes.

Or a bicycle puncture repair kit.

Yet for months my Betty had been silent.

And our love life had skidded off track.

I didn’t know if Betty had stopped loving me.

Or was just missing the string from her back.

“I rarely get nervous when I reading now. I have done it often enough to know I am OK at it but on this occasion the nerves really grabbed me. Maybe it was the thought of reading to a room full of very talented writers that left me suddenly feeling very exposed and vulnerable. The moment I took my place in the spot light I would been much happier taking my kit off rather than speaking but luckily for everyone I controlled that urge and they got words instead of naked!”

A snippet of the story I read…. which was titled Hungry Beast.

“The heat of the flogger on my skin and the sound it makes as it connects with my flesh still rings in my ears. If I close my eyes I can feel the grip of the cuffs on my wrists as they hold me in place before him and when I look down I remember seeing my shoes laying there, empty and forgotten for the time being. The room is busy, people are talking and laughing, but even though my eyes see them my ears seems to switch off to the background noise. For me the only sound I can hear is the paddle or crop or whip as it cuts through the air and finds me. I am its intended target, the recipient of its affections and with each touch I learn to fear it less and want it more.”

Excerpt from the poem, Brutal Passion

“Regal dresses and beautiful jewels

Seem dull to me compared to tools

Of a dark and deviant cell

And helpless maids that face a hell”

When I saw Harper Eliot’s stunningly sexy poster for Aural Sex, I sensed this was going to be a great night. Getting a black cab to the venue with Remittance Girl and Janine Ashbless, two writers whose words invariably dazzle me, ramped up my excitement. Over the weekend at Eroticon, I was involved in several conversations about setting up an erotica salon in London, a regular event potentially similar to Rachel Kramer Bussel’s erstwhile In the Flesh reading series. The success of Aural Sex suggests this would be an excellent idea. I’d like it put on record that cocktails and posh frocks ought to be involved!

On the bill at Aural Sex was a mix of readers, some unknown to me, others established authors; and we had a large, appreciative audience. Sitting in a cosy pub with a gin, being regaled by smart, sexy words, ranging from Molly Moore’s dark and sultry public-play vignette to Ashley Lister’s hilarious and poignant poem, Betty, not to mention the pints of troll come from Ms Ashbless, is my idea of a damn good time! I was proud to take to the floor and declare ‘I’m doing anal’ (I was on my second gin by this point). I read the opener of my story in the anthology, Smart Ass, part of an anal erotica ebook series edited by Alison Tyler. The piece begins, ‘So, there he is with his cock in my ass, and I’m biting the pillow, making all sorts of groans. At least, that’s how it looks on the outside.’ You can read the first few pages on Amazon. In short, Aural Sex was a superb evening. We ought to do it more often!

Janine Ashbless

I read from Named and Shamed and polluted the ears of the Aural Pleasure audience with no-holds-barred Troll Bukkake. Could it get any better?

“Still it came … Pints of the stuff. Goddamn – it tasted like cold miso soup.”

KD Grace

I was astounded when I discovered how much more powerful poetry is when it’s performed rather than read silently by me. And I find that to be equally true with erotica. There’s something very intimate and down-to-earth about reading or having erotica read to you out-loud. Add to that the alcoholic beverage of choice and excellent company, and what’s not to like?

Thanks, everyone, for sharing your experiences of the Night of Aural Pleasure. It’s a real treat to have you, and I can hardly wait to be aurally titilated by all of you again!

The Perfect Dom by Lucy Felthouse

March 15, 2013Guest BloggerBDSM, bondage, domination, erotica, Lucy Felthouse, new release, spanking, submission, the perfect domK D Grace

The Perfect Dom Four kinky and erotic BDSM tales from the smutty pen of Lucy Felthouse.

Balancing the Books
Philip’s a well off man, and doesn’t need a job. But when he sees the gorgeous owner of his local bookshop, he applies for the role that’s being advertised there immediately. He’s totally stricken by the stunning Giovanna, and when it turns out she wants to boss him around in a sexual sense as well as an employment sense, he has no intention of refusing.

Feeling the Heat
Taylor and Maisie’s car has broken down. Luckily, Taylor’s handy with engines and is working hard to get them back on the road. Unfortunately, Maisie is getting annoyed at the amount of time he’s spending in the garage and confronts him. Instead of arguing back, though, Taylor comes up with an ingenious plan to keep Maisie quiet.

The Perfect Dom
Part of Mia’s nightwear is a pair of hotpants with SPANK ME emblazoned across the arse. Normally, that wouldn’t be a problem, but when she forgets that she has a houseguest and heads to the kitchen for a drink, she’s shocked to find Alex in her living room. Immediately spotting what he sees as an invitation written across Mia’s bottom, Alex makes an offer and Mia soon discovers that he is, in fact, the perfect dom.

Meet Me at the Spanish Steps
Darby is working at a holiday camp on the outskirts of Rome and is getting along just fine, with the exception of her sex life. For various reasons, she’s not getting what she wants in the bedroom, and her tastes are very particular. She turns to the Internet to get what she needs, and when she discovers William, it seems that he’s more than willing—and capable—of scratching that particular itch.

Available from:
All Romance eBooks
Amazon UK
Amazon US

Coming soon to all other good eBook retailers.

*****

“Spank me. Is that an invitation?”

Shit. Mia had completely forgotten about him. Her flatmate, Katy, had asked if it was okay if her brother could stay on their sofa for a couple of nights. His own place was being fitted with a new bathroom and conditions over there weren’t exactly tantamount to hygiene. Mia had been rushing around in order to get to work and hadn’t really been paying attention, so she’d just agreed and then promptly forgotten.

Now, however, she was being treated to a huge and incredibly embarrassing reminder. Katy was on a nightshift at the hospital so when Mia had woken up at 9p.m.—her own body clock being on that of working in the club, though tonight was her night off—she’d deemed it safe to wander to the kitchen to get a drink in what she was wearing.

Big mistake. Alex was sitting on the sofa, an eyebrow quirked and a leering grin on his face. He held his iPad, and earphones hung around his neck. He’d obviously been watching a film or playing some ridiculous game before Mia had flipped the light on and sauntered through the living room in nothing but a skimpy vest and hotpants. The hotpants were, of course, what he was referring to. The fuchsia garment had SPANK ME emblazoned across the ass in large black lettering.

Mia gave Alex a look that would have turned a lesser man to stone. He, however, simply grinned even more widely, then said, “Well? Do you need a firm hand to that luscious butt of yours? Like a spanking, do you?”

Mia sighed. “Shut up, Alex. It’s none of your business. I’m just getting a drink. Get back to your damn gadget and leave me alone.”

“Oooh, someone’s defensive. I’m just saying, you must have them for a reason. A statement like that printed on your backside would definitely be construed as an invitation in my book.”

“Well, maybe it is an invitation, Alex. But it’s certainly not directed at you. Now if you’d kindly stop passing judgement on my non-existent sex life I’ll get my drink and get out of your way.”

*****

Lucy Felthouse is a very busy woman! She writes erotica and erotic romance in a variety of subgenres and pairings, and has over seventy publications to her name, with many more in the pipeline. These include Best Bondage Erotica 2012 and 2013, and Best Women’s Erotica 2013. Another string to her bow is editing, and she has edited and co-edited a number of anthologies. She owns Erotica For All, and is book editor for Cliterati. Find out more at http://www.lucyfelthouse.co.uk. Join her on Facebook and Twitter, and subscribe to her newsletter at: http://eepurl.com/gMQb9

Kristal Baird Asks the Burning Question: What’s in a Name?

March 12, 2013Guest Bloggererotic fiction, erotic romance, erotica, kristal baird, new release, novel, PI Honeytrap, Xcite booksK D Grace

What’s in a name?

Even Shakespeare wondered:

“… that which we call a rose
By any other name would smell as sweet”

But exactly how much thought do writers give to the naming of characters?

Random selections? Personal encounters? Or are they chosen for being rich and meaningful?

Charles Dickens & Henry James, by all accounts, couldn’t even begin to write without establishing a character through naming. They claim their true character only came into focus when gifted the correct name. Both compiled lists of possibilities against future use, gathered from diverse sources such as commercial vehicles, newspapers – and, no doubt, the odd gravestone!

Schoolmaster, ‘Wackford Squeers’, beats, starves and terrorises as an alternative to teaching.
‘Gradgrind’, a lacklustre utilitarian imposes his daily tedium of uninspiring education.
Jolly, wet-nurse, ‘Polly Toodle’ a “plump, rosy-cheeked, wholesome, apple-faced young woman”.
‘Mr Wopsle’, the church clerk (a frustrated actor) delivers his opinion with such exaggerated dramatics that no-one ever takes him seriously.
‘Mr Bumble’, the power-hungry, status-loving, minor official.
‘Luke Honeythunder’ could be none other than a loud-voiced philanthropist.

These two writers were not alone in their quest.

Edmund Spenser The Faerie Queene created the joyless ‘Sansjoy’; Milton Paradise Lost ensured ‘Lucifer’ became ‘Satan’ only after his fall from grace and James Joyce Finnegan’s Wake and his satirical efforts would be a whole other post.

Film characters’ names are fascinating too. Picture these apt variations:

Arnie Schwarzenegger – Trench,Tasker, Matrix, Conan, Muscleman
Jean-Claude Van Damme – Frenchy, Phillipe Sauvage, Edward Garotte, Chance Boudreaux
Steven Seagal – Kane, Steele, Cold, Hunter, Glass and Storm!

Who doesn’t feel they understand a little about characters from well chosen names alone? Gollum, Luke Skywalker, Sam Spade, Boo Radley, Breathless Mahoney, Cruella De Vil, Holly Golightly, Ratso Rizzo, Gordon Gekko, Plenty O’Toole or Forrest Gump anyone?

A well-chosen name can open the door to a deeper understanding of character and intention; a fact a writer might ignore at their peril. However, it doesn’t do some any harm: “God, I’m such a lazy writer. I can’t even think up new names.” Dennis Potter

What do you think?

Just for Fun: Did you know…?

Barbie’s full name is Barbara Millicent Roberts, whilst Ken’s is Kenneth Carson.
Would you care to refer to The Wizard of Oz as Oscar Zoroaster Phadrig Isaac Norman Henkel Emmannuel Ambroise Diggs? He stuck to OZ as he considered his other initials to be “a reflection on my intelligence” [PINHEAD]
Peppermint Pattie [Peanuts] bears the name Patricia Reichardt.
Shaggy [Scoobie Doo] is less well known as Norville Rogers

Think what fun writers & readers can have with names (& take a closer look at mine…)

Kristal Baird x

PI Honeytrap Review Details

P I HONEYTRAP

An erotic novel by Kristal Baird

Blurb

Hayley doesn’t trust men. She thinks most of them are only good for one thing. And she gets plenty of that honey-trapping cheating husbands or satisfying her own needs with local gym owner, Reuben.

And woe-betide him if he even tries to get emotionally close to her. Because tough girl Hayley is running. From her past. From herself.

Will Reuben ever understand this girl? Will Hayley ever accept exactly who she is and what she needs from a man? Will she learn to trust again?

Excerpt

[Hayley interviews a potential client who thinks her husband is cheating on her, but she’s daydreaming about last night…]

‘Go on.’ Hayley settled back in her chair. She could listen and drift away at the same time.

She drifted straight back to the gym where she’d retreated late last night, to pound a little tension out of her body. Her private arrangement with the owner allowed her to use the place long after his other customers had gone home …

‘Still running, Hayley?’

Hayley knew that Reuben had been standing behind her in the doorway between his office and the main gym hall watching her for some time. She was observant about things like that. And about his choice of words. Perhaps it was time to cancel the arrangement?

‘Still running, Reuben. Are you wanting to lock up or something?’ She kept pounding the treadmill. The angle was at full elevation and it was hard work to keep going at that speed. She didn’t want to break her stride.

‘I did that an hour since. It’s just you and me.’

She knew that tone. He moved closer but the stare was the same. It meant only one thing, and Hayley didn’t mind how she pounded the tension out of her tonight. Particularly with Reuben.

‘I’m kind of busy right now.’ Hayley liked to tease him; to keep things light between them.

He walked over to her machine. ‘Then let me help you with your workload.’ Reuben punched the controls and the incline began to slowly reduce.

Hayley adjusted her body’s forward drive and stared at him as he started to ease the pace she was running too. She’d been on the machine for nearly an hour. That was the reason she suddenly noticed her pulse rate was so high, her heart pounding. The only reason. Sweat dripped off her skin, which glowed with heat. Even between her thighs.

‘I’m a bit of a mess,’ she claimed. She was jogging steadily now, coming down gradually from her peak.

‘I like my women hot, sweaty, and out of breath.’ The tight lift at one side of his mouth told Hayley he liked his own jokes and he was hot too. For her.

She checked out the bulge in his sweats and cocked an eyebrow. Ready to rumble. ‘You’re a lucky guy, then. You’ve got a machine that does most of the work for you, getting them in that condition.’

‘Look around you. I’ve got quite a few.’ Reuben’s eyes were fixed solidly on hers. ‘Machines. Not women.’

Hayley didn’t need to look around to know what was there. Since she’d opened her private investigation office two doors down from Reuben’s Gym, she’d worked out on most of the equipment – with and without Reuben. With was a different kind of workout. And, whatever he said, there were women too. She’d seen their eyes follow Reuben about. But she wasn’t intending to make that her business. This was strictly casual.

‘Machinery? Kind of makes your job a bit too easy. What’s left for you to do?’ Hayley was off the machine and twisting the top off the bottle of water that Reuben had handed her. She tipped her head back and downed the lot in one go, needing the rehydration if she was to keep working out. Making out. And she’d already made up her mind that, tonight, she would be.

Hayley wondered if she liked coming here more for the machine workout or for the other kind of exercise she got at Reuben’s place, and if Reuben wondered too.

He stepped in closer. His body was all muscle. He didn’t just own a gym, he used it on a regular basis. In her line of work, Hayley really appreciated a fit guy. She honeytrapped plenty for her clients, and most were creeps. But Reuben wasn’t work. He was all playtime.

‘I step in for the rub-down.’ He took the empty bottle from her and flipped it across to the bin.

‘Good shot.’

Reuben’s grin told her he wanted to show her another kind of slam dunk. ‘My talents are many.’

They sure were. God, he looked sexy when he smiled. Hot body with all the defined tendons and sinews of an athlete. Great features. The complete package. It was Hayley’s turn for her mouth to twist up into a smile of appreciation. Looking sexy in a white vest and sweatpants was only the start of Reuben’s endowments.

He placed his hands on her forearms and ran them up to her shoulders. She was hot before, but now she began the slow rise to combustion as his firm fingers kneaded the tight muscles at her shoulders and ran up the length of her neck into her hairline.

Hayley reached back and pulled out the elastic that was holding her dark hair back into a tight ponytail. Reuben pushed his fingers through its length, curving around the shape of her skull beneath. She moaned softly.

‘You like that?’

She nodded, eyes half closed.

‘I can do better,’ he promised. He gathered the fabric at the hem of her T-shirt, having given her the expression that she recognised as asking her consent, and peeled it off her damp body. She let him.

The air-conditioning hit her hot, sticky skin and sent shivers dancing across it. Reuben grasped her wrist and towed her behind him towards the massage room. There was an urgency about his movements that told her he’d waited long enough; that he wanted to get her to a place where she would let him fuck her as soon as possible. The guy was hurting.

That’s why she came back to Reuben’s. He worked hard to turn things his way, but it was always her choice in the end. With the hard, muscular size of him, no matter how fit she was he could have her pinned beneath him in seconds flat. But she always knew a simple no would end matters there and then. The guy had self-control.

Unlike some of the jerks she worked with. She’d been involved in some pretty nasty encounters to get the evidence her clients needed. To prove their husbands and boyfriends were cheating, lying scum who would chase any pretty woman who looked their way, irrespective of the fact they were supposedly committed.

She could feel her tension mounting again. Reuben could probably feel it too. He threw a warm, fluffy towel on the massage bench and pressed Hayley face down towards it. She twisted her hair again into a loose knot and fixed it on top of her head.

‘I’m going to unhook your sports bra, Hayley. Is that OK?’

‘Mmm.’ It was only the beginning. The tingle in her nipples told her that tonight she was going all the way. But it wouldn’t hurt to let him wonder.

Reuben unclipped the garment with a practised hand that made Hayley smile. They had an understanding. No ties. Just a little R and R whenever they wanted it; needed it. She liked it that way.

She liked what Reuben was doing to her now too. Her nose told her he had poured warm coconut oil into the palms of his hands, which he slicked across the entire surface of her back. He started palm-circling in small movements, slowly up to her neck on one side of her spine and down to the top of her sweatpants. She could feel the tightness in her muscles soften as he worked.

Time disappeared. Perhaps she drifted off to sleep beneath Reuben’s expert hands as he went through his magic routine; lifting, knuckling, twisting. It was those sexy little thumb strokes that eventually brought her back to consciousness.

Or his gravelly voice.

‘I want to give you a full-body massage, Hayley.’ The gruff tone told her the massage was doing as much for him as it was for her. God, she liked this guy.

He was asking her permission again, to take it up a notch. No point pretending. ‘I want that too.’

They both knew he had been given approval for more than just a rubdown.

Reuben’s fingertips hooked in her waistband and he tugged her sweatpants down over her hips. She heard him moan softly as she raised her hips off the bench to accommodate him. She smiled at the silence as he discovered she wasn’t wearing panties. What was the point under sweatpants? At the gym. With Reuben.

A little more oil swirled between his hands and Reuben’s strong fingers flowed from the arch of her spine, over the rise of her lower back to the firm mounds of her buttocks and down her thighs, not stopping until they reached her lower calves. Without ceasing, they returned on their journey to her bottom again.

Her legs felt long, strong, and lean under his actions. Reuben always made her feel good about herself. So good. She parted her legs minutely.

His fingers hooked softly beneath her hip bone and he alternately pulled and pushed the heel of his hand across the muscle of her buttock, working the tight flesh loose and warm. He walked around to the other side, drawing his hand across her body, keeping contact as he went, and repeated the firm movements on the other side.

Despite the relaxing slide of his hand across her oily flesh, Hayley sensed a moment when the contact between them changed. She grew taut and tense. She felt Reuben harden too, somehow. This was it. His hand lay over the cleft of her bottom. His oily fingers dipping lower and lower between her legs. She relaxed them further apart to ease his way.

****

Thank you for reading. I really hope you enjoyed it. It’s a full-length novel, so there’s plenty more PI HONEYTRAP …

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