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Do you know when I first started loving you? Demelza Hart Explores the Question

Thank you so much, KD for once again hosting me at you blog.

Demelza HartSatedSomeone once said that a man grows to love the person he is attracted to and a woman becomes attracted to the person she loves.

It’s all bollocks, of course, but in many ways this explains Tara and Patrick’s relationship in my trilogy, Suited to You.

Neither of them is looking for love at first, but perhaps they conform to the stereotype after all.

I love that moment in The Sound of Music when the Captain and Maria reveal when they first fell in love with the other. Touchingly and interestingly, for both, it’s very early on in their acquaintance, almost immediately in fact, with little incidents that reveal something personal and intimate about them. Is it always that way?

In Suited to You, Tara doesn’t believe herself to be in love with Patrick. She wants sex, she’s come looking for sex and, on the surface, she seems to conform more to the male stereotype – slowly falling in love with the person she’s attracted to. But perhaps she’s fallen far earlier than that?

Like the dominant hero in so many erotic romances, it’s not what we know about him but what we don’t know about him that renders him irresistible. The very things which are supposed to keep Patrick – The Suit – emotionally distanced from Tara in fact make her fall for him. His anonymity, his aloofness, his control – in his mind, and hers, these are designed to keep the feelings at arms’ length, but in actuality they compel her to him, not only physically but emotionally. Tara is hooked even before the overwhelming physical attraction takes hold.

As for Patrick? Well, despite all the moody, enigmatic brooding, he’s a bloke, after all – more predictable, perhaps. Does he fulfil the male paradigm and eventually fall in love with Tara? You’ll have to read the series to find out.

Here’s a taste from the final part, Sated:

‘Shit! I’m bloody supposed to be at work!’

Demelza Hart9781783751266_FCAs the thin dawn light crept into the room behind the heavy velvet curtains, I tore myself awake with a panic.

Patrick rolled over and placed an arm over me before I could escape.

‘No, you’re not. It’s sorted, don’t worry. No one expects you to get from Devon to Dean Street in two hours.’

‘But Sarah’s not even my boss any more! What if the new editor’s there today?’

‘Relax,’ he said with a chuckle. ‘She’s not starting until next week. Technically, as assistant editor, you’re the boss, and you’ve just given yourself the day off.’

‘Have I?’ He was kissing over my body, which once again awakened instantly. He’d already reached my collar bone.

‘Hm-mm. Or at least … you’re working from home.’

Left nipple.

‘On what?’

Right nipple.

‘Research.’

Belly button.

‘For?’

Left hip.

‘Mating rituals in the West Country.’

Right hip.

Demelza HartExposed properI tittered. ‘Oo-arr, moy darlin’ – does that mean spreading me all over in clotted cream and licking it off?’

Clit. Oh, definitely my clit.

I moaned and arched. He broke off and glanced up.

‘Among other things. Plenty of time to explore that –’ he spun me over and yanked me up onto my knees ‘– and more.’ And he thrust into me, hard and long, right up in one go.

Demelza Hart loves both contemporary and historical erotica and erotic romance. Suited to You, published by Xcite Books, follows the exhibitionist, spontaneous sexual encounters of Tara and her lover, Patrick, otherwise known as The Suit, and is her first trilogy. Her stories can be found in all the usual places, but please join Demelza on Facebook – https://www.facebook.com/demelza.hart.3

Twitter – https://twitter.com/DemelzaHart

or her blog – http://demelzahart.wordpress.com/

Buy the Suited to You Trilogy Here:

Spontaneous 

Amazon.co.uk

Amazon.com

Exposed

Amazon.co.uk

Amazon.com

Sated

Amazon.co.uk

Amazon.com

 

 

The Story Behind Elsie Hepner’s latest release — A Little Slap and Tickle

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The first time a flicker of my new release, A Little Slap and Tickle, tripped a writing wire in my brain, my husband was fondly admiring a hand-tooled leather armor set in one of the wooden booths at our yearly visit to the Maryland Renaissance Faire. Meanwhile, I had my eye on the leather, sheep-lined four cuff set and leather paddles. My kind of instruments. Next my eyes drifted over the super smoking leather worker who was manning the booth—and a book was born.

I knew the second I got home that Flynn was going to disfigured, sarcastic, and self-confident while Eliza was going to have her whole life shot to hell. For a normally all together person, Eliza was royally panicking—which worked to our hero’s advantage. Flynn opened her up, sent her spinning in a million different directions, and proved that chaos can be a happy state too, if only you let someone else take the reins. What once had been a sexy idea born of a hot guy and some leather cuffs I couldn’t afford morphed into an exhibitionist freak show wonderland where one floundering woman relearns how to find herself again.

Frankly, it was fun making the faire sexy when every time I go I witness all sorts of luscious, seductive costumes. I can’t count how many times I’ve seen some woman leading a man on an leather o-ring leash or a goth couple letting their freak flag fly high. More than anything I wanted my characters to embrace their setting, embrace all the little things that might make them flawed and freaky. Celebrate their uniqueness during epic, no-holds-barred sex that leaves both of them vulnerable.

While Eliza is a BDSM newbie, she’s not immune to the delicious ache that Flynn twines around her body and into her bones. What once seemed clandestine and off limits becomes a way of coping, a method of release. Until Eliza has no choice but to accept what she enjoys without looking back.

Elsie Hepner Slap and TickleBlurb:

Eliza’s stuck in a lacklustre, dead-end slump after coming home with her graduate degree to a slippery job market and her brother’s fold out couch. Unable to circle newspaper ads for another second and desperately crawling into sexual fantasy to escape her dismal reality—Eliza takes her escapism a step further when she agrees to go to the Renaissance Faire with her best friend, Dru.

Her whole world shifts when Eliza meets Hunter, a quirky, mysterious leather worker who runs a booth at the faire. He’s been a platonic friend of Dru’s for ages and supplies her with homemade BDSM bedroom toys—toys that he’s more than willing to demonstrate with Eliza once the faire closes. But can Eliza give up control in order to trust that one of her biggest fantasies will live up to her expectations?

Hunter’s skills as a dominant force Eliza to trust herself again and Hunter finds himself with a feisty submissive that pushes more of his buttons than he ever thought possible. Together they push themselves farther than any fantasy, until their lives are never the same again.

Excerpt:

“I can’t say I’ve ever…participated…in an event like this one before, Dru.”

“Is that a bad thing? Don’t you think you should expand your boundaries outside of your brother’s fold-out couch and a newspaper full of wanted ads? Come on, have a little fun, Eliza.”

Eliza glanced sideways at her best friend’s elfin, petite face speckled with sunlight from the gorgeous afternoon in the woods. Dru’s light blond eyebrows were raised in question, rose lips pursed. The dare for Eliza to question her hung unsaid in the air. A wisp of wind picked up Dru’s red, cork-screw curls and pushed them across her face. But Eliza only cleared her throat—unfocused on Dru’s warm, whisky colored eyes, and refocused onto the crowd in front of them amidst the trees.

At least she wouldn’t feel out of place in her Indian maiden leather get up straight out of some weird S&M store that she’d borrowed from Dru. The skirt brushed mid-thigh with leather tassels that didn’t exactly cover—anything. While the corseted halter top ended at an abrupt triangle showing the whole world that it’d been awhile since she’d hit a gym. What topped the whole ensemble off were more tassels threaded beneath her breasts in a weird attempt at an Empire waist effect. The outfit was an experience unto itself, even without everything to see and do unraveling before her eyes.

For a second it was hard for Eliza to think of their little adventure into unwashed bodies, crowds, and medieval costumes as fun per se. But damn if the food wasn’t out of this world. And her best friend was right. Her status as Master’s degree holding, library science geek hadn’t earned her points on any of her less than minimum wage job interviews this week. Most people in their small town were snug as a bug in their day jobs and there wasn’t much room for more work with positions being pre-filled by family and friends.

She’d been away too long at college. Long enough to lose favor when it came down to a townie and a girl with too much school experience. No matter where she looked, she was overqualified. Facts were facts—libraries were closing like mad. Not to mention they only had one in the area filled with employees who held onto their positions with their last dying breath.

There was proving to be no room for Eliza here. But there weren’t any options in the outside world with no savings and no one to lean on if she continued on her job losing streak. Until she got lucky, she was beholden to her big brother and a nine-to-five job pursuit. Better to get out of the house for a little while. Besides, she’d worn out her traditional red pen circling the newspaper ads in the back of the paper and couldn’t afford to buy another one until Monday.

Two months of moping was enough to fry anyone’s brain and she needed to leave her problems behind. So this trip back in time better offer up merriment and wonder soon. Or at least some free booze. Just because she was out of college didn’t mean she couldn’t indulge in a pint or two.

“At least it’s free exercise,” Eliza chimed in with an easy smile.

Okay, so all the men in kilts and shiny chainmail were a bit distracting and she hadn’t seen this many boobs since Christmas at her sister Cheri’s divorce celebration. But the atmosphere wasn’t that bad. As they circled all the vendor booths with creative, painted signs and traveled beneath the charming forest of old oaks, Eliza could almost forget about, well, everything. Her complete lack of independent direction and purpose in life. As well as the fact that her dreams of an easy life were more than dashed. But this was nice—a swell of happiness.

A light breeze shifted through her A-line, brunette bob and she took a long, deep breath of carboliciousness. Her mouth watered and she continued following close behind Dru.

“Whoa, did you see that?”

“What? Oh, the woman holding the man on a leash in full bondage gear? They’re here every year. That’s old news, honey. People come to this place to let their freak flag fly high and for the most part no one gives a shit.”

She shifted her gaze away from the treacherous roots embedded into the earthen floor and watched Dru’s retreating—and fully corseted—back. Where was she going?  What could be so important that they needed to rush through the crowds? Eliza was positive she’d brushed up against her hundredth stranger in only a half hour of being in the gates.

Several people must have gotten an up-close and personal brush of her bra-less breasts in her confining, leather get-up. Dru had lent Eliza her costume from last year and as they struggled through the crush of the food court crowds she wished there was a little more of it. Not only was her outfit tiny and skin tight, but the mid-summer air kept wafting up the skirt until Eliza was positive she was flashing the whole park.

“Um, could you—”

Before Eliza could finish the sentence, she glanced up and Dru had alighted two wooden steps into an open air shop front. She was talking to a man in a long leather duster with delicious abs similar to the covers of the romance novels Eliza was so fond of reading in her spare—alone—time. He wore a wide brimmed leather black cowboy hat that obscured his face and matching black leather pants.

Was Dru seriously waving her over there to talk to him?

No, there had to be some mistake. There was no way she was prepared for any kind of social interaction, let alone a handsome stranger. Christ, they hadn’t even hit the bar yet. Not one drop of liquid courage had passed her chapped lips and her stomach plummeted down to her feet faster than when she’d been stood up by her date right before prom pictures. But Dru frantically waved her over and laughed with her head back so her red curls cascaded down her back in a manner Eliza imagined was seductive.

Well, no turning back now. Where exactly would she go? It wasn’t as though she knew the lay of the land. Besides, the minute the man shed his long leather duster to point to a tattoo on his bicep, smiling down at Dru, there was no longer a choice. She had to see him closer. Her mouth watered at the expanse of all that beautiful, almost naked, man flesh.

There was more to him than an intimidating, tight physique. His every movement exuded thinly veiled grace while his smile lit up his sharply masculine face. A contrast of good cheer mixed with a concentration on whatever subject interested him. Until he became riveted, obsessed, with a possessive awareness of his subject. As she got closer, she sensed his gaze snap to her face, expression unchanged. But in that split second Eliza sensed his acute judgment.

He measured her with his shadowed stare while his small quirk of a smile never wavered.

The friends continued to talk but their voices were drowned out by the heavy pulse at Eliza’s temples. All of her flesh seized with goose bumps. This stranger stood as if all the world was his to explore, with a brightness in his eyes that dared nature to defy his dominant curiosity over what he claimed was his by right. He looked as if the whole world would bow down to him. And he wouldn’t be surprised. But nothing about him screamed arrogance—only a self-certainty and a quiet sense of inner peace.

Weird that she should read someone so quickly, but he was an open book. Both hands on his hips, lean muscles stretched in his arms and back until her knees were weak. Dru spoke and he laughed, head tipped forward while one strong hand rubbed the center of his chest. The dark shadow from his hat brim obscured everything but the clean, model-esque lines of his face so she couldn’t see his joy.

But his bark of gravelly laughter hit her as a punch in the gut while her chest tightened. There were enough trees in this place that she should have never lost oxygen. There wasn’t enough air in the world right at that moment. As Eliza fought for composure she focused only on his tattoo.

Yield to life—there is only threat of tomorrow.

His tattoo was inked in thin filigree with woven rope knots all around the words. One breath. Another. Each one became easier even as she grew closer, knowing she had to hide all her ruffled feathers. There wasn’t a single nuance Dru wouldn’t pick up on and exploit.

One step after another landed her front and center next to Dru as her best friend slung her arm around Eliza’s waist.

“Took you long enough,” Dru whispered in mock chastisement.

Before she could get a good look at the man, he turned and rummaged behind his counter, giving them both an all-access pass to perfect ass land. Eliza knew she should keep her eyes closed, but they were glued to the tight, sculpted muscles on the wicked stranger. The faire didn’t seem that bad anymore.

Dru squeezed Eliza’s torso until she met her best friend’s shining eyes, lit up with nothing but pure mischief. These were moments Dru lived for—any opportunity to tease. But it never bothered Eliza, it was all in good fun and her best friend meant well. She remained oddly silent. Despite the fact that Eliza all but flinched while she waited for whatever whispered barb her best friend would deliver on behalf of her less than subtle reaction to the intriguing man.

How could she not have a reaction when his damn presence practically demanded one?

“Ah, here it is.”

His voice rushed over her tingling down her back and she had to stop herself from taking an automatic step back. Irish, too? Oh, no. No, no, no. He was more than perfect and she hadn’t even said a thing to him yet. Why was she even there? So Dru could lord this man over her head—the perfect romance hero—or so they could be set up together for an awkward date and never see each other again?

Hell, maybe she was taking this whole thing too seriously, but their history of set-ups was long and varied. Even throughout college Dru wasn’t satisfied until they each had at least two dates a week.

This had to be some kind of evil set-up because clearly Dru knew the guy. They must be pulling this to screw with her head because poor little Eliza hadn’t been on a date in forever and who knows if there are cobwebs down there. This guy was some actor from Dru’s troop of players for sure. She’d done theater every summer for as long as Eliza could remember.

He came back up from his crouch behind the counter and turned back to them with something hidden behind his back. One long finger tipped up his hat. Eliza got her first straight on look at the man that she suspiciously regarded with every ounce of her petite frame.

His nose was slightly crooked. An old wound that hadn’t been set, maybe? A five o’clock shadow roughened the strong, square jaw and lips that were better suited on a female than the masculine portrait that acted as if he had nothing to hide. It took every last ounce of her will to gaze up below the brim of his hat.

He wore an eye patch. Whether or not it was for the faire or an actual problem, she couldn’t resist the edge of danger. His good eye—light brown with amber flecks—was bright with unreadable heat fixed solely on her face. She swallowed despite the lump in her throat. Nothing he did betrayed anything of how he was feeling or thinking—only the sharp look that pinned her to the floor.

And whatever he held behind his back.

For a long blink it was hard for Eliza to even remember that Dru’s hand rested around her waist. All she could focus on was the knowing twist of the stranger’s lips. The unwelcome and unexpected blush that seared against her skin when they hadn’t even spoken to each other made her fingers twitch at her side.

How could she resist him when he fit the caricature of an ideal man she’d been reading about in romances all her life? She was only stupidly comparing him to a man that didn’t exist. A string of perfections that couldn’t be real in one man. Left in the dust of her overwhelming horniness, well, she was being an idiot.

There wasn’t any other explanation for the way her hormones were skyrocketing off into different directions. He looked down into her eyes and she couldn’t help it—she giggled. That broke whatever fake connection she nursed in her mind. He plunked an item down onto the counter and shrugged back into his leather duster that had lain on the counter.

Without thinking, she blurted out the first sentence that flew across her scattered brain. An old habit that refused to die. And often led her to want to be buried in the same grave, instead of suffering the mortifying consequences.

“An eye patch, really? Aren’t you mixing genres with a cowboy and a pirate?”

Buy Links:

Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Little-Slap-Tickle-Erotic-Novella-ebook/dp/B00H3LBBUW/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1386556736&sr=8-1&keywords=Elise+Hepner

Amazon.co.uk:  http://www.amazon.co.uk/Little-Slap-Tickle-Erotic-Novella-ebook/dp/B00H3LBBUW/ref=sr_1_fkmr0_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1386937714&sr=1-1-fkmr0&keywords=Elsie+Hepner+A+little+Slap+and+Tickle

B&N: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/a-little-slap-and-tickle-elise-hepner/1116379648?ean=9781783751976

Xcite: http://www.xcitebooks.com/Book/10204/A-Little-Slap-and-Tickle.html

Bio:

Elise Hepner lives with her husband and two eccentric cats in Maryland. She spends the majority of her free time in her basement office concocting smutty characters and sinful situations that leaves readers satisfied. When not writing, she researches everything from automatons in the 18th century to gladiatorial rules in Ancient Rome. She prides herself on being an avid information hound as well as a blog reading addict–which is her favorite way to procrastinate. Her previous publications include books and stories with Excessica, Xcite, Ellora’s Cave, Secret Cravings Publishing and Cleis Press.

Author Links:

Website: www.elisehepner.com

Twitter: www.twitter.com/EHepner

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/pages/Elise-Hepner-Writing/311925106401

 

 

A.M. Hartnett Asks the Burning Question: Why Write Erotica?

It’s my pleasure to welcome A.M. Hartnett to A Hopeful Romantic to ask that burning question, why write erotica? And to talk about her novella, Here for a Good Time.

It always give me a chuckle when I see writing blogs tackling the big erotica debate. Not how to write erotica or how to write great sex scenes, but simply whether or not to write erotica at all. Depending on the blog’s audience, it either devolves into an orgy of clutching pearls or high-brow snobbery about those books. Of course, the arrival of The Book That Shall Not Be Named and its sisters has given birth to countless (and, in my opinion, pointless) articles about why women are reading these types of books and why women are writing them.

AM HarnetIf you were to ask me point blank why I write erotica, I’d be completely stumped. Why erotica specifically? I dunno. Somewhere along the way I just gravitated towards the smuttier side of things. Any genre I attempted ended up with explicit sex. Coming of age drama set in the 1920s? Threesome. Small town horror? Ghost sex. Cat and mouse game between a crime boss and a retired policewoman? Yeeeep, rough sex in the attic.

When I finished university and decided to dabble in writing, I discovered the market for erotica. After that, there was never any question as to what I was going to write. So needless to say when I started selling stories in 2006 and found out I was actually good at it, it was a bit of a relief, because it was pretty clear I couldn’t write anything else without filthy sex.

That’s not to say all the rules of storytelling go out the window when things get wet and dirty on paper. You still need to know how to write balanced scenes, even if the end result is an orgasm. You still need believable dialogue. You still need to set the mood. In other words, don’t believe the articles that tell you that you can make a quick buck writing erotica — you still need to know how to write and tell a story.

I tried explaining this to Arts Guy. AG is an online date I once had. We had similar backgrounds — degrees in English and love of books that spawned the need to write. He had seemed thrilled when he discovered I was a published writer, then snorted when he found out what I wrote. AG could come down on my smut all he wanted, but at the end of the day I could walk into my local bookstore and find a book that had my name in it, while he could go home and moan about how the university press wouldn’t recognize him as the next Robertson Davies and publish his angst-ridden shorts all because what he thought storytelling should be.

I may not be able to tell you why I write erotica, but I’m glad that’s the pins and needles path that sprang up in front of me. It’s fun, I’m good at it, and I like to think I don’t waste a reader’s time when they finish something I’ve written. My latest release is Here For A Good Time from Xcite Books. I love the chemistry between my characters Alexis and Chris, and I had a ball writing about the things they got up to when no one was looking. If I decided way back when that I was too good to write erotica, I would have missed out on a lot.

Here for a Good Time Blurb

When Alexis booked her work retreat at The Deveaux, the most she had to look forward to was a bit of spa time on the company dime, but flashy salesman Chris Kendrick has an even better suggestion. For years they’ve had a hot and cold working relationship with a bit of flirting mixed in, and now is the perfect time to get that spark out of their systems.

Three days hopping in and out of beds (and other convenient places) shows Alexis that Kendrick’s smooth demeanour is more than just talk, and that aromatherapy and soft-tissue massages have nothing on Kendrick’s firm hand.

Here for a Good Time Excerpt

‘Excited?’ he asked softly. His tie whisked out of his collar with a low hiss.

‘Unbelievably.’

‘Give me your hands.’

Once more she did as he asked, and nothing in her life to that point had turned her on more than watching him bind her wrists with his tie.

He studied her as he tightened the knot, his brow crooked. ‘You ever been done like this?’

‘A time or two,’ she admitted in a puff of air. Three times to be exact, but she couldn’t recall being this hot the last time she put herself at the mercy of a lover.

‘Colour me surprised.’ He made a loop at the end, and then guided her arms up and hooked her.

‘After the way I pounded you this morning, I figured you liked a bit of rough stuff.’

Standing so close, his every movement made his clothes rustle against her, teasing her nipples into hard peaks while he unzipped himself. The moment she looked down, he caught her under the chin.

‘Eyes forward.’

The tip of his cock, slick with precome, brushed her belly. Alexis itched to get her hands on him, to wrap her lips around that thickness and suck him until he gave her something to swallow, but she’d allowed herself to be putty in his hands and there was nothing to do but relent.

It was easy to do. She could practically feel the hum of energy in her blood as he ran his hands all over her body. His gaze never left hers. It was as though he was daring her to give him a reason to rebuke her.

Buy Here for a Good Time here:

Amazon.com

Amazon.co.uk

Find A.M. Hartnett Here

Web: www.amhartnett.com 

Twitter: www.twitter.com/amhartnett

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/annemarie.hartnett

About A.M. Hartnett

A.M. Hartnett began writing in 2006 and has published more than thirty short stories. Her work has appeared in more than a dozen anthologies, including Cleis Press’s Sudden Sex: 69 Sultry Short Stories (Ed. Alison Tyler), and The Big Book of Orgasm: 69 Sexy Stories (Ed. Rachel Kramer Bussel). She has also written three novellas and a novel as Annemarie Hartnett. For more information on her publications, please visit www.amhartnett.com 

 

 

Tamsin Flowers’ The Christmas Tattoo – Awash with the Seasonal Feel-Good Factor

The Christmas TattooThere’s something about Christmas that gets to me. For 11 months of the year, I’m probably the least sentimental person you’ll meet and then, for the month of December, I transform into something soggy, sniveling and over-sentimental. Sit me down in front of Bing Crosby and Danny Kaye singing ‘We’ll follow the old man’ in White Christmas and I’m gone. James Stewart in It’s A Wonderful Life – pass the tissues! Show me a John Lewis Christmas ad and I’m welling up. It doesn’t take much.

So around Christmas, I like to read something with the feel-good factor. This is the time of year for happy endings – the snow falls in White Christmas; George Bailey is reunited with his family in It’s A Wonderful Life and the bear wakes up for Christmas Day in the commercial. Oops – just thinking about it is enough to make my eyes tear up. And I want the same from a book if I’m reading it December.

Anyway, when I decided to write a Christmas erotic romance, I wanted to capture some of that feel-good emotion that makes Christmas what it is. Of course, it’s not all plain sailing and my two main characters have plenty of obstacles standing in the way of true love – a curmudgeon of a father, an ex boyfriend who reappears, a pregnant business partner, jealousy, tears and fights. But I don’t think it’s too much of spoiler to give away that The Christmas Tattoo has a happy ending.

After all, I couldn’t do otherwise at this time of year, could I?

Tamsin

xxx

 

The Christmas Tattoo – blurb

When sexy red-head Bradie Clements comes home from Washington to nurse a broken heart and build bridges with her estranged father, she’s certainly not on the lookout for romance. After catching her boyfriend Kris in bed with her best friend and boss, all she wants to do is run and hide. But a chance encounter with local tattoo artist Colton Bassett leads to an unexpected appointment with his needle. Even though it’s cold outside, the temperature rises to boiling point as the two discover an irresistible attraction. But then Kris arrives on the scene to claim her back in time for his family Christmas and Bradie starts to remember what she saw in him. Tormented by jealousy and suspicion over Colton’s pregnant business partner, Bradie starts to wonder if her new romance is over before it’s begun…

 

Buy links

Available at Amazon.com, Amazon UK, Kobo, and Xcite Books.

 

Excerpt

Colt Bassett’s legs turned to water as he bent in low enough for his lips to brush against Bradie’s.  He’d kissed those lips once before, briefly, and he’d never forgotten how they’d tasted.  He’d dreamt of kissing them again a million times and now, when he thought the flame he’d been carrying for her for over a decade had at last gone out, she’d walked back into his life. Right into his studio, asking for a tattoo.  Her eyes asking for a kiss.

His lips brushed hers, tentative at first.  He’d made mistakes with her before but he knew he was reading the signals right this time; a decade of experience had taught him what to look for.  Her pupils were dilated, her lips parted and a little moist.  Her breathing uneven.  He put a hand along her jaw to hold her still as his mouth moved over hers and he sensed the subtle arching of her back and tilting of her head to give him better access.

Her kiss tasted immediately familiar, her lips as soft and yielding as he remembered.  He swallowed and wondered whether he dared plunge his tongue into her mouth.  The thought of it sent a spasm of lust up through his cock, had his heart pounding against his chest and his balls throbbing in his shorts.  He knew he was reaching the point of no return; either draw back or take things forward.  He tried to read Bradie’s expression but her eyes were shut.  When her hand snaked up around the back of his neck, he recognized an invitation to continue, so he slowly traced the line of her lips with the tip of his tongue.

She rewarded him with a soft mewl from deep within her throat; she wanted this as much as he did.  Her mouth opened and then her tongue pressed against his, pushing into his mouth and intensifying his need to take things further.  She tasted of sweet coffee and he pushed back against her to find his way into her mouth; their tongues slipping past each other to explore at leisure.  Her back arched more and he gripped the back of her neck to pull her in against him.  Soft breasts touched his chest as her jacket fell open; he could feel her nipples pebbling hard through the thin fabric of her blouse.  He raised his other hand and brought it up to the side of her breast…

A bell rang.  A door slammed.

Fuck!  Someone had come into the shop.

“Colt?  Are you back there?”

Shit, Saskia! 

 

Tamsin FlowersTamsin Flowers

Tamsin Flowers loves to write light-hearted erotica, often with a twist in the tail/tale and a sense of fun.  In the words of one reviewer, ‘Ms Flowers has a way of describing sexual tension that forces itself upon your own body.’ Her stories have appeared in a wide variety of anthologies and she is now graduating to novellas, for publishers including Cleis Press, Xcite Books, Secret Cravings and Totally Bound. This year, she entered NaNoWriMo, with the intention of penning her magnum opus in the very near future.  In the meantime, like most erotica writers, she finds herself working on at least ten stories at once: while she figures out whose leg belongs in which story, you can find out more about her at Tamsin’s Superotica or Tamsin Flowers.

 

The Extraordinary Within the Ordinary

Many thanks to the lovely KD Grace for having me over today to discuss sex out of the ordinary.

Demelza Hart 2Where’s the most unexpected place you’ve ever done it? On a train? Aeroplane bathroom? Broom cupboard at work? All popular fantasies.

What is it about sex in mundane, everyday places that turns us on so much? After all, in reality, negotiating the coming together of body parts amongst cramped spaces, wash basins, mops and general daily detritus is a pretty tricky business. It’s certainly not done for the glamour of the location.

No, it’s the overwhelming need which compels us to do it in these places, the engulfing passion which overrides all else: sense, practicality and safety. These places may be entirely ordinary, but if you introduce the extraordinary into them – sex – the danger element makes the excitement of it so much more thrilling. Not only do you risk mistaking a broom handle for something else entirely, you also risk discovery. The exhibitionist in you lurks, daring you on.

Allow me to introduce Tara.

Demelza Hart 3Tara seeks the extraordinary within the ordinary, and in The Suit she’s met someone who can deliver. The Suit – nameless and effortlessly gorgeous – takes the mundane and, by introducing sex, turns it into something entirely irresistible.

Tara developed her taste for this – and for him – on that icon of routine and predictability, the London Underground. We first met her in my short ‘Come Underground’ (in Xcite’s Watching Me, Watching You and Your Ultimate Fantasy anthologies). On that occasion, she spent a trip on the Central Line ably entertained by five anonymous men, one of whom is The Suit. They weren’t supposed to see each other again.

But they do.

In Spontaneous (Book One of the Suited to You trilogy), we meet Tara as she contacts The Suit again. They continue where they left off.

In this extract, The Suit has arranged to meet Tara, telling her he’s going to ‘take her shopping’. With visions of Bond Street in mind, the supermarket where his chauffeur actually drops her isn’t quite what she’d envisaged, but The Suit always delivers.

-xOx-

I paced dejectedly along to the bright lights of the supermarket and strode morosely through the gaping doors. The glare from the store hurt my eyes and the beeping of the checkouts immediately grated on me. This had better bloody be good. I scanned the entrance for signs of The Suit, but could see nothing. Instinctively, I picked up a basket and made my way into the store. It was nearly empty. A few late-night shoppers were stocking up, Demelza Hartbut the aisles were largely deserted save for a few shelf stackers. I glanced around the magazines and cards. No sign. I made my way through homeware and clothing. Nothing. Was he even here?

 I threw a tube of toothpaste into the basket. I’d nearly run out; I may as well make the most of my time here. Then I turned into the broad expanse of the fruit and vegetable aisles. There he stood, still in his suit, studying an apple carefully before replacing it on the pile. I walked over.

‘Out of milk, are you?’ I’d intended to sound tetchy and succeeded. He turned as coolly as ever, his eyes quickly taking in my clothes and appearance.

‘Hello.’ He looked back to the apples. ‘Granny Smith or Pink Lady?’

‘Definitely Pink Lady.’

He took a few, put them in his basket, and moved on. I followed.

‘Why are we here?’

‘It’s an interesting environment.’

‘Is it?’ I wasn’t convinced.

‘I like the mundanity of it. I like the idea of the extraordinary concealed within the ordinary.’

‘And where is the extraordinary? I don’t see it.’

He didn’t answer. His Duchamp tie hung down when he bent over to look at things. I wanted to grab it, tug him round, and have him.

‘So what happens now? Are you going to fuck me with a cucumber?’

He at last deigned to look at me, his mouth rising into a slight smile. ‘Would you like that?’

I shrugged. ‘Maybe. But only if they’re Class One organic cucumbers.’

He glanced above him at a CCTV camera. ‘We’re too visible here. It might be tricky.’

‘I wasn’t serious!’ I added.

‘Why not?’

-xOx-

The cucumbers remain where they are, but The Suit, Tara and another (more than) willing participant go on to take plentiful advantage of the BOGOF deals. Like The Suit says, it’s always worth seeking the extraordinary within the ordinary.

Come and say hello to Demelza on Facebook, Twitter or at her blog. She’d love to get to know you.

Spontaneous (Book One in the Suited to You trilogy) is available now, as is Watching Me, Watching You and Your Ultimate Fantasy (containing ‘Come Underground’).

Buy Spontaneous Here:

Amazon.co.uk

Amazon.com

 

 
© 2018 K D Grace
The Romance Reviews

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