Tag Archives: erotica

What Inspires Lily Harlem

It’s my pleasure to welcome the luscious Lily Harlem to A Hopeful Romantic today to share with us some of her inspiration for her hot novel, Shared, and to talk about how she finds inspiration in general. Welcome, Lily! It’s great to have you.

Hi KD, and thanks so much for inviting me over today to chat about what inspires me to write my books. It has been an interesting topic to mull over before getting around to sitting down and writing this post. It’s really made me think about the everyday things that produce the seed of a story and then go on to feed and water it.

I find it easy to recall my inspiration for some books. For example, Shared, my debut novel at Ellora’s Cave, came about from flicking through the local newspaper. For some reason, and it wasn’t because I needed a place to live, I glanced through the letting section. I came across an advert – Room to Let – Wanted girl to share. Well, me being me, with my dirty mind, I thought, what if that is literal, what if, two hunky guys actually do want a girl to share? And that was all it took. The story grew from there, beginning with creating a situation where a girl, Ariane, would find herself homeless in Cardiff and on their doorstep, and then working out the reasons why these two hot, successful men needed to share a woman, why they couldn’t have one of their own? So for that novel, that was all it took – a line in a newspaper. I wonder what the person/people who placed that advert would think if they knew it had inspired such a racy ménage story, with a sequel!

I have a series called Hot Ice, all about the bad boys of ice hockey. Inspiration for these books is simple – I lust after hockey players! They are so damn big, so fast, sexy and talented. Phew! The sport is getting bigger and bigger in the UK and I follow the Cardiff Devils, they are every bit as hot as their US counterparts, they just don’t get as much attention; that suits me, I don’t have to share as much. However, having a hunky hero does not make a novel. I had to add in a heroine and of course a plot. For my first book in this series, Hired, that came in the form of one scene spinning around my head like a day dream. It was a gorgeous couple on a paradise island, the perfect beach and every luxury you can imagine, but there was a secret, a secret between them that hung like a black cloud over their relationship.

Eventually I decided the secret was that she was being paid to be there, not to have sex with him, but being paid to keep him company, yet, because they were now having sex, what would that make her? Once I had that idea all I had to do again, like Shared, was think up the situation that would have landed her and him, in this situation. Hired was great fun to write, and a character from that story, you’ve guessed it, another hot hockey player, goes on to be the hero in Cross-Checked the second book, and again, a player who has been a secondary character in both the first two novels goes on to be the star of Slap Shot, the third book. I am currently working on the fourth in this series, and have gone back to my roots and heading down the ménage route again.

I have also, recently, been writing with the hugely talented Natalie Dae. We already have one contracted novel due for release next year, That Filth Book, and decided to write another. The way we start a book together is a bit like the game you probably played as a kid, when you fold up a piece of paper, someone draws the head, it gets folded over, someone else adds the body, the legs and so on. Then, when we have a good grip on our characters and a rough idea of the plot, we take it in turns with each chapter, but the middle and the end is not set in stone, we let the story take us away, like a white-water ride down a fast flowing river, and see where we ends up. For our latest book, it was my turn to do the first chapter. I pondered for several days, knowing Natalie was waiting, and then when I was researching a blog post I came across this picture.

Slightly creepy perhaps? Not much to see but a lot for an over active imagination to ponder on, and my-oh-my – what a sexy shin. I can’t tell you much more about this book at the moment, except he is our hero, but I wanted to share the fact that from a single picture, 60,000 words of erotic romance can grow.

Another area of inspiration for me is music. Lyrics and tunes often are a background to the emotions of a character, even if I never write the lyric down, the sentiment, or the meaning behind it, can be a core part of my hero or heroines needs/focus. It helps me to keep coming back to what it is they really want, how they feel and what keeps them strong when everything goes wrong.

Recently Total-E-Bound asked me to write for their new Bollywood series. It worked out very well for me, because when the email came through I actually was in Asia. However, since I was having some quality time with the delectable Mr. Harlem (who by the way is a constant source of inspiration!) I didn’t start writing until I returned home. I had an idea in my head, a girl who secretly wrote a BDSM column for a guy’s magazine, I say secretly because she lives in Mumbai and this second job would not have been at all acceptable to her family. The story grew from there, but it wouldn’t have become nearly as vibrant if it wasn’t for the wonders of the internet and all the information I gleaned about Hindu weddings. Also it was further enhanced by my crit reader who loved certain parts of the story which I then expanded and worked on. The Unwholesome Adventures of Harita is just out at Total-E-Bound.

So I guess in summary, and I won’t subject you to the inspiration behind all my books, ideas for me, that very first spark, light-bulb moment, come from a variety of places. I can’t force an idea arrive, and it would be easy to panic and scream ‘writers’ block’ when one book is finished and the next is waiting to happen, but I know that either from a newspaper, a picture, a song, a day dream, or just a day to day life experience will be all it takes. Something simple usually, but with a whole lot of potential, that’s all it takes and then I am off, typing away, ignoring the housework, racing through life until I can get back to my characters and get their stories down.

Thanks so much for letting me natter on today, KD, and I hope your readers found my thoughts interesting. And if anyone wants to share where their inspiration comes from, I would love to hear it.

Blurb:

Struggling artist Ariane Arlington flees the Welsh valleys after exposing her corrupt boss. But when the sun rises she finds herself jobless and homeless in Cardiff city with barely a penny to her name.

She responds to an advert in the local paper—Room to let, wanted, girl to share. What she doesn’t realize is that the two insanely gorgeous guys who live in the penthouse apartment really do want a girl to share, in every sense of the word. Fortunately for Ariane, rent is the last thing on their minds.

She discovers the men are bound together by a turbulent past. Liam, a computer whiz, keeps a painful secret hidden beneath his buff exterior, whilst Quinn, a pioneering neurosurgeon, wonders if he’ll ever meet a woman who can live with his controlling ways. They admit the one thing missing from their lives is a woman just like Ariane, who can handle them both in and out of the bedroom and who, together, they can keep satisfied, loved and most of all, safe.

An Excerpt From SHARED

Suddenly I was there. I exploded and shouted out his name. My body jerked and my spine arched. Quinn wrapped his free hand around my shoulders, held me tight as he continued to drive into me, eking out every last tremor of my glorious release. I felt another surge of wetness as my internal muscles pumped around his wickedly expert hand, and then I was panting, desperate for air and looking up at his face silhouetted by the bright ceiling light.

He was staring at me, not smiling, just wide-eyed. “Stunning,” he said. “You’re so responsive, so delectably reactive I can hardly believe it.”

“It’s been quite a while,” I confessed, dragging in lungfuls of oxygen and becoming aware once more of my surroundings. The marble really was hard and very cold on my naked behind.

Suddenly another deep, male voice ricocheted around the kitchen and invaded our private moment. “Glad you two are getting on so well.”

I looked around Quinn’s shoulder at the kitchen doorway. Liam stood, arms folded, feet apart, as he surveyed us draped over the marble island he’d designed.

“Hey,” Quinn said, turning but making no move to take his fingers from inside me.

My heart leapt and I pushed frantically against him. Prickles of mortification swept through the very core of my being as I squirmed and finally rid myself of his invasion. slid ungracefully from the island and tugged up my jeans. I heard a whimper of embarrassment escape my lips, squeezed shut my eyes and prepared to take flight.

“Hey,” Quinn said, reaching for me. “Ariane.”

“No.” I shrugged him off and sidestepped.

But it was no good. He was too strong and too quick. He scooped me against his chest and bent his head to my ear. “Ariane,” he said again, curling his arms around me in a vise-like grip. “It’s okay, really.”

“I have to go.” I twisted my neck away from where Liam stood. My heart was threatening to burst right out of my chest. He would think I was a tart, a whore, a slut. I’d been giving off serious signals of interest to him only hours ago and now he’d come out of his office to discover me sprawled wantonly over his breakfast counter being hand-fucked by his flatmate. “I can’t stay, not now, please, let me go. I have to go.”

I pushed against Quinn with all my strength and shoved backward, but something caught me. Not something, someone. Liam. Suddenly I was trapped between two rock-hard chests and surrounded by four determined arms.

“Don’t go,” Liam said into my ear. “I’m not mad at you.” He spoke with such softness that instantly my eyes filled with emotion. “I want you to stay.”

“We want you to stay,” Quinn added.

I felt a drip of shame spill over my lower lid.

“Why are you sad?” Quinn asked, tipping my chin. “I thought I just made you fly.”

“You did, but…” I dropped my head into the palms of my hands. “But I’m so embarrassed, you’ve been so kind, so helpful and you don’t even know me, somewhere to stay, clothes, food.” A juddering sob broke free. “And I’ve repaid you by behaving like a whore.”

Liam sucked in a breath behind me. “Don’t you ever say that about yourself again, Ariane.” He spun me to face him instead of Quinn. “I won’t stand for it and neither will Quinn.”

“Absolutely not,” Quinn confirmed. “What you just did made us both very happy and we won’t have you corrupting it.”

My mind was reeling. What on earth were they on about? I had just made them ”both” very happy with my terrible display of sluttiness? “I behave like a loose-moraled tart and that makes you happy?” I asked, stunned, taking my hands from my shame-stained cheeks.

“If you say that again, or anything like that,” Quinn said in a decidedly dangerous growl by my ear, “I will put you over my knee and spank that sexy little ass of yours, Ariane.”

My mouth dropped open in shock as my body trembled at the kinky suggestion.

Liam took full advantage of my open mouth and suddenly he was kissing me, gently and slowly but with a harnessed passion that had me opening for more in spite of my confusing predicament. He cranked up the heat, our teeth touched briefly and then he delved his tongue into my mouth and began devouring me like a starving man. He tasted different to Quinn’s dark, chocolate heat. He was lighter, fresher, like he’d not long since brushed his teeth. But he was equally delicious, equally sexy, equally hot.

Quinn brushed my hair to one side and began to rain kisses onto the supersensitive part of my neck, just below my ear. I groaned in appreciation and curled my fingers into Liam’s t-shirt to hang on. Two pairs of hands began to roam my body, dipping into my waist, smoothing over my butt and thighs, reaching for my breasts.

Quinn’s erection prodded at the small of my back at the same time Liam’s hit my stomach.

I snapped my mouth away. What was I doing? What the hell was going on? My sudden movement caught them both off guard and I was able to slip free.

“No,” I said, retreating at speed. “I don’t know what’s going on here but no…how can you both…?

“Shh, it’s okay,” Liam said, taking a step toward me.

I backed away, throwing up my hands defensively. “No…” I said breathlessly. “I have to go.”

“But where?” Quinn said, shaking his head. “You can’t go back.”

“I don’t know,” I said, aware my voice sounded shaky.

A sudden manic beeping filled the kitchen. Loud and insistent it echoed like the shrill ring of a phone in an empty hall. “Shit,” Quinn muttered. “Worst timing ever.” He reached down to his pocket.

Liam raised his eyebrows at him. “Isn’t it always?”

“What, what’s that?” I asked as I pushed a damp strand of hair from my face.

“My pager,” Quinn said, narrowing his eyes at the small flashing screen. “I have to go.” He walked toward me. I backtracked and hit the kitchen wall. “Liam will deal with you,” he said through tight lips. “Anything he says goes for me too.” He looked across at Liam who’d folded his arms and tipped his head.

“I feel the same way he does,” Quinn said.

“But…”

“Don’t stop this,” Quinn interrupted. “Don’t stop this before it’s even begun, Ariane, please… I beg you.”

And then he was gone. His expensive leather shoes tapped over the wooden floor of the living room and then the front door slammed with a thud.

I wrung my hands together and rested my back against the wall. What had just happened? I’d kissed Liam with the same enthusiasm I had Quinn only moments before. How could I have generated so much passion inside my soul for one man and within seconds convert it to another? I’d always been faithful, I’d never cheated on Geraint, never even been tempted. Yet here I was getting mashed between two very aroused men and, I had to admit, enjoying it immensely. Thank goodness I’d come to my senses and stopped before anything else had happened.

“Ariane,” Liam said quietly, “you’re thinking about this way too much.”

I touched my fingertips to my lips, still tingling from where he’d just kissed me into oblivion. “What do you mean ‘this’?” I managed.

“Us, me and Quinn.” He paused. “And you.”

“I don’t understand.”

“What’s not to understand?” He stepped closer. “I like you, Quinn’s clearly into you, and from what I just saw and felt—you, Ariane, are into both of us.”

There, he’d said it, the disastrous truth. I was into both of them. How could I not be? Both were devastatingly gorgeous and both had an air of irresistible sex appeal. It was a different nature of sexiness—whilst Liam’s felt gentle, seductive, beautiful and to a certain extent nurturing, there was something about Quinn that felt fast and furious, perhaps even dangerous. There was an element of bad boy unpredictability about him. How could a girl choose?

There was only one option—I would have to leave and not have either of them.

“I have to go,” I said again. “Really, I’m sorry, I can’t stay.”

“No.” Liam frowned, creating a neat horizontal line between his brows. “Leave in the morning if you want, but not in the dark, and…” He had a distinctly sharper edge to his tone. “Leave because you don’t want us, not because you do.”

Buy Link:

http://www.jasminejade.com/p-8441-shared.aspx

http://www.amazon.com/Shared-ebook/dp/B003ULP7YA/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1321359303&sr=1-1

http://www.amazon.co.uk/Shared-ebook/dp/B003ULP7YA/ref=sr_1_2?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1321359463&sr=1-2

 Lily’s Website:

http://www.lilyharlem.com/

 

All the News

I’ve not given an actual news update in ages, and it occurred to me that the next few weeks are chock-a-block with fun and excitement, and lots of things you might like to know about, so here’s the latest.

For the month of November I’m over at The Romance Reviews answering questions and just chatting. There’s a fabulous interview up as well dealing with all things Pets. If you stop by you can find out what inspired me to write The Pet Shop and how I deal with unruly Pets, and lots of other secret goodies about Tino and Vincent and Stella. Also, if you stop by and leave a comment, you’ll automatically have the chance to win a free eBook of The Pet Shop in the format of your choice.

While you’re over at The Romance Reviews, be sure to check out my guest post, ‘Beauty IN the Beast.’

Erotica, 2011 is going on all next weekend, 18-20 November, and I’ll be there, blogging, reading, panelling and celebrating the launch of The Pet Shop with Xcite Books. Xcite will have a stand at Erotica and will be featuring all kinds of fabulous events. I’ll be reading sizzling scenes from The Pet Shop, on Saturday in Xcite’s Reading Slam.  And Saturday at 6:30, Xcite are having a little launch party to celebrate The Pet Shop.  I hope I can keep Tino’s clothes on long enough for the party.

Sunday afternoon I’ll be participating in an Xcite Authors Panel, along with Toni Sands, Liz Coldwell, and Maxim Jakubowski. The panel will be chaired by Jane Wenham-Jones. Check out all of the fabulous Xcite events here, then come and join the fun. If you can’t make it, however, be sure to check my blog for the latest updates.

I’ve finished my read-through of the proofs of Lakeland Heatwave: Body Temperature and Rising and though I don’t have a date yet, I think I can safely say expect this first novel in my paranormal erotic romance to be out in eBook formats very soon, with the print launch in early February. Needless to say, I’m getting very excited about the goings on of the Elemental Coven in the Borrowdale Valley of the Lake District.

New Releases

Seducing the Myth, edited by the amazing Lucy Felthouse, contains my story, ‘Stones.’ This anthology of sexy myths is getting rave reviews, and is a must for anyone who loves mythology and has nasty thoughts about what really happened.

Women In Lust, edited by the ever-fabulous Rachel Kramer Bussel, contains my story, ‘Strapped.’ The anthology has also debuted to rave reviews. As always, when Rachel puts together an anthology, it rocks!

Immoral Views, edited by KoJo Black and illustrated by Florian Meacci is hot off the press from Sweetmeats Press, and contains five sizzling stories of voyeurism, including my story, Allotted Views, more serious garden porn. Definitely one not to miss.

Not only is Immoral Views available in one fabulously juicy anthology, but you can also get each of the individual stories as a stand-alone on Smashword if you’d like just a nibble before you bite. But I’m betting you’ll want to have the whole yummy voyeuristic feast.

Oh, and writing. There’s LOTS of writing going on around here. Some of it you already know about, some of it I’m keeping under my hat for now, but you’ll find out in good time, in good time! Now if you’ll excuse me, I just left one of my characters in a very compromising position on a massage table.

 

Brick Dust and Bedsprings, More Sizzle From Lucy Felthouse

Lucy Felthouse does it again, with the hot new Ravenous Romance release, Brick Dust and Bedsprings! Congratulations, Lucy!

Blurb:

There are chores to be done, but it’s much more fun to stand at the window and watch the rippling muscles and sweaty torsos of the men paving her driveway- her window sill never got cleaned so thoroughly before!

But when sexy brothers Marcus and Jamie catch their customer looking, the action rapidly moves from the front of the house to the bedroom…

Excerpt:

I heard the rumble of an engine, and craned my neck to look out of the window. Yes, they were here. My lips curved into a smile, and I scuttled out to meet them.

“Morning!” I chirped brightly. The two men turned from their van at the sound of my voice.

“Christ,” exclaimed the larger and older of the two, “I wasn’t expecting you to be up at this hour!” It was nine in the morning.

“You cheeky so and so. I’m not that lazy. Besides I had to get up to move the car. You’d have struggled to dig the drive up with my car on it, wouldn’t you?”

He winked cockily at me. “Mine’s a coffee, please. Two sugars, plenty of milk.”

“Yes, Marcus. God, what did your last slave die of? Jamie?” His brother looked up from the papers he was shuffling.

“Um, I’m alright for now actually.”

“Are you sure? I was only messing about!”

“Yeah, I’m fine, I’ll have one later.”

I sauntered back into the house and started making drinks. I’d already flicked the kettle on in anticipation of their arrival, and as I poured the milk into Marcus’ mug I chuckled to myself. I’d delib¬erately used a pink one, just to piss him off. It wasn’t exactly the most manly of mugs, as I’m sure you can imagine. Mind you, it would take more than that to rob Marcus of his masculinity. Mmm.

He wasn’t my usual type. I usually go for the more classic good-looking guy. You know, clean-shaven, nicely dressed, and all that. Marcus definitely didn’t fall into that category. He wasn’t ugly, by any means, but he’d never be on the cover of a magazine either. And you certainly wouldn’t take him home to meet your parents. But he still oozed sexiness out of every pore. Whether it was the fact that he was rough around the edges, I don’t know. Maybe I was looking for a bit of rough.

I handed him his coffee with a cheeky smile. After a question¬ing glance at the mug, he took a sip. He winced as the hot liquid scalded his tongue. He swallowed slowly. I watched his Adam’s apple contract and relax and felt my face start to heat up.

Against my better judgment I studied him: his broad chest, huge biceps, strong-looking thighs clad in denim. Christ. I felt my pussy twitch involuntarily and closed my eyes. When I opened them again, he was looking at me. Oops. A moment of charged silence, then he smiled, all the while staring at my chest. I glanced down, and wanted to die of embarrassment. My nipples were rock hard and straining against the thin cotton top I was wearing.

“Must be cold,” I blurted, not wanting him to know the effect he was having on me. Marcus looked at me, then glanced up at the burning sun. He raised his eyebrows.

“Right,” I mumbled, desperate to get away. “I’ve got chores to do indoors; gimme a shout if you want anything.”

“Anything?” he enquired.

Buy links:

http://ravenousromance.com/ravenous-rendezvous/brick-dust-bedsprings.php

http://www.amazon.co.uk/gp/product/B00631J2BI/ref=as_li_ss_tl?ie=UTF8&tag=lucyfelthouse-21&linkCode=as2&camp=1634&creative=19450&creativeASIN=B00631J2BI

http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00631J2BI/ref=as_li_ss_tl?ie=UTF8&tag=lucyfelt-20&linkCode=as2&camp=217145&creative=399373&creativeASIN=B00631J2BI

http://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-brickdustbedsprings-627149-144.htm

Lucy is a graduate of the University of Derby, where she studied Creative Writing. During her first year, she was dared to write an erotic story – so she did. It went down a storm and she’s never looked back. Lucy has had stories published by Cleis Press, Noble Romance, Ravenous Romance, Summerhouse Publishing, Sweetmeats Press and Xcite Books. She is also the editor of Uniform Behaviour and Seducing the Myth. Find out more at http://www.lucyfelthouse.co.uk. You can also find her on Facebook and Twitter.

 

Immoral Views — The Eyes Have It!

When it comes to sex, let’s face it, the eyes have it. Oh sure we have four other senses, and everyone uses certain senses more than others. No doubt sex is best when all senses are engaged. But the eyes have it. And certainly the eyes have it in the fabulous new Sweetmeats Press anthology, Immoral Views edited by KoJo Black.  And as if hot sexy stories for the eyes aren’t enough, Immoral Views takes the voyeuristic experience one giant leap further with the steamy illustrations of Florian Meacci.

I’ve always been a bit of a voyeur, so when KoJo asked me to write a story for this anthology, the voyeurism theme alone would have been enough to make me say yes. I’ve seen, fondled and drooled over the fabulous illustrations in KoJo’s sizzling collection, The Candy Box, so I was really keen on having my story illustrated. But when I found out I was going to be in between the covers (front and back, that is) with Kay Jaybee, Lucy Felthouse,  Rebecca Bond and Lexie Bay, I wasn’t entirely sure KoJo would be able to keep the pages of this super-heated anthology from bursting into flames before it hit the shelves.

In celebration of this hot new anthology, I’ve asked each of my fabulous co-authors from Immoral Views to tell us a little bit about their own versions of what I’ve affectionately come to call eye-sex, and I’ve included a blurb of each of their hot stories from Immoral Views. So tell me, my lovelies, just why do the eyes have it?

Kay Jaybee

He was sat in a cafe looking at the pictures that covered the brick walls. I was sat at the opposite end of the room, my notebook open, and my pen in my hand. I was not writing however. Nor was I looking at the paintings. I just looked at him from behind the safety of the menu I held before me- a menu I was not reading.

He was fairly ordinary. Not over worked, no horrid ‘gym regular’ type muscles peeking out from the arms of his plain t-shirt. I judged from how he was sat that he wasn’t even very tall. But his eyes!! They were wide, blue, and somehow never ending. If those eyes could have talked they would have only said one word, ‘Sex.’

Those eyes gave me the most beautiful daydream. Undressing him slowly, never taking my gaze from his gaze, telling him what to do- making him keeping his eyes open at all times…ummmm- you get the idea….

The Circus by Kay Jaybee
The line is blurred between spectator and performer in a theatre of pleasure and pain!

Lexie Bay

So what turns me on visually? Ooh where do I start with this one. I have to admit that I adore checking out gorgeous sexy men. There’s nothing nicer to look at than a strong toned forearm gripping a steering wheel or a firm bum in a pair of jeans… or what about that sexy little line that disappears into a guy’s jeans. Mmmm, yep I’m more than happy to ogle a fit bloke any day.

But I also love that secret thrill when you see something you really shouldn’t have….. and you keep watching because you just can’t tear yourself away. I don’t think women are that different to men when it comes to the visual, deep down we all love a little bit of voyeurism every now and then. I bet if you stumbled across a kinky scene you’d stay and check it out….. I know I would! Izzy, from my story Inside Looking Out definitely would, and it leads her on a deliciously decadent trail from one side of the world to the other. So keep your eyes open and give yourself a treat every now and then – you never know where it will lead you!

Inside Looking Out by Lexie Bay
Adventurous Izzy spans two continents in a search for her perverted Prince Charming.

K D Grace

I was out walking on the Downs. It had just rained. Sane people were inside where it was dry.  I had just climbed a steep stairs up to the side of the hill and stopped to take pictures of the mist clearing off the hillsides when I heard heavy breathing behind me. I turned and nearly ran in to a very wet, very fit bloke carrying his mountain bike up the steps, biceps bulging, chest heaving, dark hair mussed. His face was hard with concentration and exertion. Then when he saw me, he smiled and everything about him became warmer, softer. He said something about how the weather had cleared and how nice it was to be outside. I’m sure I must have blushed as I mumbled my agreement. Then he mounted his bicycle and rode on, leaving me feeling sexy and feminine in spite of my drowned rat hair and sweaty t-shirt.

Alloted Views by K D Grace
A nosey gardener is treated to a raunchy ritual through her bedroom window.

Rebecca Bond

There’s nothing quite like catching the attention of a stranger as you mooch about your business to give you a little flutter or giggle inside. As a city chick, the daily commute holds the most eye-fuck potential. Naturally you wanna be looking hawt, or the attention you attract could simply be down to the dark shadows beneath the eye, or the rogue globs of mascara that smatter the face. Never a good look. But whilst most people jump on and off the trains looking nowhere but their iphones, ebooks, or the daily rag, I sit back, relax and people watch like a pro. This, my friends, produces much eye-fuck fodder. Especially if a yummy tall, dark and handsome should so happen park his tushy on the seat opposite.

There is, however, danger in this sort of voyeurism. Yes, there have been moments when unintentional eye contact has been made with pure beasts and even though you know you need to look away, their ghastliness has you hooked. Just like beauty, ugliness is too fascinating too shy away from. But you must – look, look away or you might find yourself in an unexpected and utterly unavoidable mental strip-down-eye-fuck-all-out-bonkfest with Quasimodo’s twin! It’s okay though, because then the train stops, the doors open, and you never have to encounter Mr (or Mrs) No-Go again. Win!

Painted Pussycat by Rebecca Bond
An innocent student is welcomed into the Circle of Ink where tattoos, bondage and exhibitionism are all part of her initiation.

Lucy Felthouse

K D asked me to describe what turns me on visually, or something I saw that was really hot. Sadly, my answers wouldn’t have made for a very interesting blog post, so I decided to twist the question a little and let my imagination do the talking. That is, I’ve seen untold naughty things in my dreams and daydreams, and as an erotic writer, there are frequently things going on in my head that are pretty hot. And that’s definitely what was going on when I was writing my story, Caught in the Act. It took me a while to come up with the story idea, but once I did it pretty much ran away with itself. The more I wrote, the filthier it got… and it was filthy to begin with! The thought of a policeman becoming fascinated with dogging to the extent that he gets into the scene himself, well, needless to say I found the idea really interesting. There was some research involved, of course. On the Internet, I might add. There was no visiting of deserted car parks for me! So… coming back to answering K D’s question – I see things that are hot all the damn time, but they’re usually in my head!

Caught in the Act by Lucy Felthouse
A young policeman risks his reputation and his job for the adrenaline rush of sex alfresco!

Thanks, my voyeuristic Lovelies, for sharing the pleasures of the eyes and heating up my blog!

IMMORAL VIEWS

Kojo Black has compiled five titillating tales from erotica’s sultriest mistresses! Sweetmeats Press proudly presents a deliciously dissolute anthology of voyeurism – Immoral Views. Illustrated by Florian Meacci.

The e-Book versions are not illustrated (except with the pictures you provide with your nasty mind, of course)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Emerald Talks about Pink Floyd, Being Tied Up, and Her Amazing Story, ‘With Random Precision’

One of the highlights of the Erotic Authors Association Conference in Las Vegas this September was meeting Emerald and being totally enthralled by her beautiful bondage story, With Random Precision. I’m very excited that Emerald has agreed to be my guest and tell us the story behind With Random Precision.  Welcome, Emerald!

“With Random Precision” is titled after a lyric in the Pink Floyd song “Shine on You Crazy Diamond.”  The song plays a central role in the story, which seems fitting since it is published in the Love Notes: A Music & Sex Anthology, edited by Rachel Kramer Bussel and published by Ravenous Romance.  Even before I ever saw the call for Love Notes, though, the music in “With Random Precision” was deeply connected to the story.

Virtually the entire bondage scene in “With Random Precision,” as well as the reference the Pink Floyd music therein, is autobiographical. I was tied up quite intricately several years ago by a friend of mine who has studied and practiced bondage extensively.  In a way he was practicing on me, but we’d also both agreed I might find the experience interesting.  I did—so much so that even as it was happening, I knew I wanted to write about it.

So much about the experience was noticeable—the silence in the room, his intense concentration, how strange being touched by rope felt, the absence of being touched by someone else’s flesh.  Things like how striking it began to feel on the occasions his skin did connect with mine jumped out at me, and some of what is in the story started writing itself in my head as I stood there while he wound yards of purple rope around me in silence.

Where the autobiography stops, perhaps ironically, is in the indescribable experience the narrator, Amber, has as a result of being bound.  What was not there for me when I was tied up that night was sexual attraction between myself and the person tying me up.  We were friends, but the experience for me wasn’t a sexual one.

I felt all the other things the narrator describes in the scene—the silence, the intensity, the uncertainty, and definitely the apprehension when the moment of finally realizing she is bound hits home.  Where the actual sexual attraction wasn’t there, there seemed (still seems) a part of me that inexplicably knew the potential that scenario held had the addition of attraction, that unique intensity enmeshed with a desire for intimacy and a mysterious and unquestionable trust, been there.  Even at the time, that vague understanding captured my attention.  Later, as I wrote the story, it came forth via my imagination.

There was also the music.  The description in the story is quite how it was—it was quiet, and all of a sudden I noticed it, and it captured my attention.  The degree to which it seemed to perfectly fit the atmosphere seemed extraordinary, and I was intrigued when he told me it was Pink Floyd.  I was almost entirely unfamiliar with them at the time.

To digress slightly, I met my partner a few months later.  Pink Floyd is his favorite band, and when he mentioned them to me, I found the timing striking.  I said I had only recently been properly introduced to them (beyond the radio play of “Another Brick in the Wall Pt. II” and “Money”).  My partner continued that introduction with impressive thoroughness, and Pink Floyd is now one of my favorite bands too.  Everything the narrator in “With Random Precision” indicates about how she feels about the band is autobiographical.

When I started to write the story, shortly after the bondage experience had occurred, it didn’t seem hard to recall how it had felt to stand there, how quiet the room was, what the rope pattern looked like, how I had felt being tied up.  It wasn’t hard either to remember what had occurred to me about what might have happened if the person tying me had been someone I felt that attraction to, to whom I knew I wanted to surrender what I vaguely—even unconsciously—could feel was there to be surrendered.

I wrote all that.  I didn’t have to think about it much—it was all right there and came out as my fingers typed.  When it came time to actually go further than where the bondage scene ends, to show what happens between Amber and Max, I grew continually stuck.  I tried writing that interaction countless times, with it feeling dissonant each time.

Finally, I realized I simply didn’t get to know.  Not only does the reader not see what actually transpired that night, I myself as the author do not know.  The interaction is a mystery.

As is what the experience might have been like for me under other circumstances.

When I finally let go of trying to create what happened between Amber and Max that night, the final scene of the story, the present-day one that Amber narrates, came about as effortlessly as the first part of the story had.  That scene, to me, expresses the understanding in me of the potential of what that experience could have been had something more been there.  How it could have—perhaps inevitably would have with the characters that came forth in the story—added up to an unequivocal, irrevocable surrender unlike anything I (and she) had before experienced.  The understanding, as the scene, is indirect—it was not seen by the reader, and for me it was not experienced directly.  But some awareness of it was, and still is, in me—even if not (yet…) consciously.

“With Random Precision” remains one of my favorite stories I’ve written.  I don’t know exactly how to describe why, but it has always felt very close to me.  It brings a number of things together—autobiographical experience, speculation of a potential by which I feel deeply intrigued, the opportunity to offer homage to a musical artist that moves me greatly, and the manifestation of something I feel or recognize only on a level beyond my ordinary consciousness.  Thank you so much, K D, for inviting me to talk about it here today.  It’s been really a pleasure!

BLURB:

Our favorite music inspires us to move, dance and, yes, get busy in more intimate ways. Love Notes celebrates dancing queens, rock stars, groupies, anthems and more as the characters stroke each other to the sounds that make them soar. One woman masturbates to her favorite song while a stripper slinks her way into a man’s life. From Madonna to Shania Twain to Led Zeppelin and beyond, they channel their favorite music to make love to.

Love Notes celebrates the erotic power of music to move us, whether it’s listening to a lover rock out, fantasizing about your rock star crush, or making the sweetest and sexiest of music together. Singers, sirens and dancing queens get busy to a sex soundtrack ranging from heavy metal to classical and beyond. Get ready to get serenaded, seduced, and smitten with Love Notes.

EXCERPT:   

With the final silent, firm tug Max gave the rope that secured me to the ottoman, I realized the precariousness of my position.  I had known at the beginning that this was a significant undertaking for me.  But the full realization didn’t materialize until parts of my body, parts I was used to being able to move at will, were bound in place—and the corresponding understanding that he was now in control of that part of my existence.

I couldn’t move.  I was, quite literally, bound.  I thought about what would happen if I suddenly couldn’t breathe, if the claustrophobia of my youth returned, smothering me and taking my oxygen as I lay there unable to do anything to save myself.  I thought of demanding that the rope be cut, screaming at Max to get the binding off me as quickly as possible.  Would he do it?  I wouldn’t be asking—I would be desperate, drowning, screaming inside with not only desperation but the revulsion of knowing that I was utterly, completely dependent on him.  That he could choose to disregard me if he wanted to.  To not take me seriously.  Even as it flitted through my consciousness, the liquid hatred of the idea rose inside me and started to course through my body.  My eyes were closed, but the darkness I was seeing was more than physical—I believe I would have seen it just as much had they been open, staring at the candlelit white ceiling of Max’s living room.

He touched me.  My eyes flew open.  Max was not looking at me.  Rather, he was examining the twists of rope at my left hip, his fingers resting softly on my left thigh.  The contact had brought me from darkness to the surface like a flash of lightning.  I inhaled deeply.

“That’s better,” he murmured in a tone as soft as the pressure of his fingers on my thigh.  “You okay now?”  Still he did not look at me.  His attention stayed on the purple silk strands around my hips and up across my abdomen, as though there were some imperfection there he was fixing.  And I wondered how he had known.

*****

Max shifted his hand.  I felt the knot I had noticed earlier move slightly against my clit.  The jolt of arousal that flooded through me stunned me as much with its intensity as with its unexpectedness.  I looked at Max, who met my gaze and knew what he saw there.

He smiled.  “It’s not about fucking tonight, Amber.  Don’t you know that by now?  You think that’s what you want, but what you want is so much more.”  His voice was quiet, a contrast to the newfound desire pulsing through me that didn’t feel quiet.  Confusion gripped me, twisting my inside with a movement my physical body wasn’t at liberty to reflect.

Max stood and walked until he was no longer in my field of vision.  I heard him kneel behind the top of my head, and his warmth reached me before he did as he slid one hand through my hair against my scalp and the other gently around my throat from behind.  His lips touched my ear as he whispered into it.  The sensation jolted through me like a gunshot, starkly contrasting with the barely existent contact of his flesh to mine.  What was he doing to me?

“Let go.  Let go, Amber.  Do you hear me?”  His voice ran like liquid silk, its gentle seamlessness giving no hint of the boulder-like intimidation of the order as my mind perceived it.  The voice was gentle, lulling, leading where it wanted to take me, knowing that was a place I wasn’t sure I had ever been.  So much so that I didn’t know where it was or how to find it.  The fierce resistance inside me reappeared, surging furiously and searing my senses.  A snowy fuzziness filled my vision.  An acidic sour seeped into my mouth as I raged against this position he had me in.

And somewhere even deeper, I saw that I was really in a battle against myself.

The voice knew that too.  The grip on my throat tightened ever so slightly.  The heat of his breath coursed through me via my ear:

“I know you don’t know how, Amber.  That’s what I’m here for.”

BUY LINKS:

Ravenous Romance (publisher)

Amazon US Kindle

Amazon UK Kindle

Barnes and Noble Nook

BIO:

Emerald is an erotic fiction author and general advocate for human sexuality as informed by her deep appreciation of the beauty, value, and intrinsic nature of sexuality and its holistic relation to life. She holds a particular interest in the connection between sex and spirituality and deeply reveres sexuality’s inherent sacredness.  Her erotic fiction has been published in anthologies edited by Violet Blue, Rachel Kramer Bussel, and Kristina Wright, among others, as well as at various erotic websites.  She is an advocate for sexual freedom, reproductive choice, and sex worker rights and blogs about these and other topics at her (NSFW) website, The Green Light District: http://www.thegreenlightdistrict.org.