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Posts Tagged ‘Victoria Blisse’

Who’s Really to Blame for Seven Deadly Sins

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Okay, so here it is; the real story behind the story. Here’s the truth about what happened  when dirty minds ran amuck late at night after Eroticon 2012 in the Ibis Hotel in Bristol. I swear it’s the truth because I was right there running amuck with the best.

I can’t say we’d had too much to drink. We hadn’t. I can’t say there were any drugs involved, unless you want to count the cold tablets I was popping for the springtime sniffles I had. What I can say is that we were high on smut writing. We’d just spent the day at the first annual Eroticon in Bristol. That was last March. We’d had dinner with some of our naughty compadres, and then Lily Harlem, Victoria Blisse, Lucy Felthouse and I went back to our hotel, which had a lovely all-night bar. Since we live in opposite directions in the UK, we seldom get the chance to catch up and talk writing, so we were up for the long haul.

Seven-Deadly-Sins-Cover-450(1)Lily Harlem started it. Yes, she’s the one to blame! After some raucous conversation about what we found sexy and what we liked to write about, she pulled out a pen and a scrap of paper and we began brainstorming ideas for smutty anthologies. We considered sex at work for an anthology; we considered sex alfresco for an anthology, we might have even considered food sex. Oh, the possibilities! And then Lily did it! Lily brought up the idea of an anthology about the seven deadly sins, the perfect way to cover all the naughty bases in one filthy swoop.

My hand was the first in the air to write a story about lust. Bet that surprises you, doesn’t itJ Victoria wasn’t far behind me, volunteering for gluttony. Lily was all up for envy and Lucy put in for pride. And so the night went. I’m not sure how serious we all were at the time. It was long after midnight, and to say we were punchy is an understatement. When a party of rather inebriated lads flooded into the bar singing Iris folk songs loudly and badly, we adjourned to Victoria and Lucy’s room and continued planning and scheming.

The next day we all hopped our trains and went back home. My sneaking suspicions is that it was Lucy Felthouse who is to blame for what happened next, though I’m sure that Lily was partly responsible for filling in the three remaining sins with naughty writers, Sarah Masters took up the cause to wax filthy about wrath, Lexie Bay weighed in with sloth and Rebecca Bond took on greed.

And, after that the blame all goes to KoJo Black over at Sweetmeats Press who bravely agreed to take on the brainchild four under-slept smutters had mapped out on a scrap of paper in a hotel bar. Thanks KoJo! Nine months later, Voila! A very naughty, anthology is now available for your reading and viewing pleasure, with illustrations by John LaChatte in the paperback version and in the Waterstones eBook version. Thought the eBook is available in all the usual places, do remember, if you want the naughty illustrations in your eBook version, you have to get it from Waterstones.

I confess, this anthology is truly sinful X seven, and I do hope that this little peek into the naughty origins of The Seven Deadly Sins will lead you into temptation to get your copy, and then let the filthy authors and that dirty boy of an illustrater, John LaChatte do the rest. I forgot to mention you can also buy each of the seven stories separately in eBook format if you have a favourite vice.

Seven erotic tales from seven sinful sirens. The Seven Deadly Sins have never been so sexy!

Aphrodite Gets a Piece of the Action by K. D. Grace
A young voyeur finds himself faced with the almighty task of going global with Lust!

Caged by Rebecca Bond
Greed pushes a policewoman straight to the top. But her quest for power uncovers more desire than she ever knew she had!

Glutton to Gourmet by Victoria Blisse
Anabel has never known when to say ‘when’. But the dashing Roman shows her that quality is just as delicious as quantity.

Green Eyed Monster by Lily Harlem
Penis Envy takes on a whole new meaning when Helen hatches a plan to use her own “cock” to its fullest extent!

An Indolent Seduction by Lexie Bay
When the demon of Sloth sets his sights on the angel Industria, apathy becomes dangerously alluring.

The Sweetest Revenge by Lucy Felthouse

Abigail’s crush on Mackenzie has made her do something stupid. Will Pride come before a fall…or cause them to fall in love?

Something Else by Sarah Masters
A man’s Wrath at the loss of his lover sets him on a vengeful path that leads him through a seedy and sexually charged underworld.

sevendeadlysins_large_promo

Blurb for Aphrodite Gets a Piece of the Action:

There’s no place to go but down when, against all odds, sexually inexperienced, nerd’s nerd, JACK CALENDAR gets shanghaied into being APHRODITE’s PA. And she has him going down a lot! Who could have guessed that the moonlighting Goddess of Love had head for business? The hours are long, the work is difficult and the Goddess is demanding and insatiable. Then there’s her family, who make the Corleones look like the Brady Bunch.

A PA’s work is never done, and Jack wasn’t hired for his impressive organizational skills. Nerdy Jack is at Aphrodite’s beck-and-call, because he’s the only mortal she has ever known with a lust powerful enough to match her own. Jack’s never had so much sex. He didn’t even know one could have so much sex – with someone other than themselves, that is. Just when he’s starting to get the hang of serving the goddess, Jack meets the husband, whose jealous temper is volcanic to say the least. Can Jack survive a run-in with the original dysfunctional family, or will he end up just one more manipulated mortal fucked by the gods?

Excerpt from Aprodite Gets a Piece of the Action

‘Hey you! Ass-wipe! Don’t make me come up after you.’

Coming up wasn’t necessary. Startled, Jack lost his balance on the limb and fell out of the tree backward, his fall being slowed by the hard thwack, thwack, thwack of a half a dozen smaller, more supple branches before he hit the manicured lawn flat on his back leaving him winded and stunned.

‘Izzee dead?’ A voice hissed from somewhere above Jack’s prone, breathless body.

‘Course ‘es not dead. His cock’s still hard. Sonovabitch! Hat’s off to ‘im, I say.’

‘Don’t matter. When her dad gets through with him, he’ll wish he was dead.’

‘Shut up, you two. No one asked your opinion,’ a third voice said. Then the owner of that voice grabbed Jack by the arm and hauled him to his feet nearly dislocating his shoulder in the process. He found himself nose to nose to a man with perfectly coifed hair that looked like it came straight from an eighties cop show. And the rest of him looked like a poster boy for a hard core muscle mag, right down to the bad-ass eagle tat rippling up his bulging right bicep. If that wasn’t crazy enough, the man was wearing a toga, for chrissake! His pecs bulged and his nipples looked like they’d been clamped within an inch of their lives. And who the hell noticed a man’s nipples, Jack wondered, especially when Blondie’s old man was about to make him wish he were dead.

‘Tuck it in, Bub,’ Toga Man nodded to Jack’s cock which, embarrassingly enough, still offered a full frontal salute. He shoved and shifted it back into his track suit, but even then it led the way as he fell into step behind Toga Man with two black-suit security types flanking him. What the hell was the matter with him? He could die or worse and he still had enough wood to start a bonfire.

‘Big Z ain’t gonna be happy you watching his daughter do the dirty,’ the suit to his left spoke out of one side of his mouth.

‘You shut your pie-hole,’ Toga Man said. ‘You dunno what makes Big Z happy. Besides, she ain’t his daughter.’

Big Z? What the hell was this, Jack wondered, some kind of Mafioso toga party? They made their way through the enormous marble foyer of the house Jack hadn’t noticed being anywhere nearly so huge from his perch in the oak tree. But then it wasn’t the house he’d been looking at, was it? At last, Toga Man dismissed the Mafia-thugs and fast marched Jack, both hands protectively folded across the bounce, bounce, bounce of his erection, to another set of double doors at the end of a long hallway. He threw them open and with a hand on Jack’s shoulder, half shoved him into an opulent study. There, Jack found himself face to face with the bare ass of a bloke doing the nasty up the bumhole of another, a situation that didn’t prevent Toga Man from announcing loudly. ‘We found this scumbag up the oak tree watching Aphrodite.’

Buy Seven Deadly Sins Now

Print:
Amazon UK
Amazon US

eBook:
Amazon UK
Amazon US
Waterstones

 

Proving Santa Exists: Victoria Blisse is Heating Up the Season!

Victoria Bliss Proving Santa ExistsProving Santa Exists Blurb:

When Jonathan transfers from the U.S to the Manchester branch of Computers Inc., Jenny is the first person to make him feel at home. Finding out about his bleak Christmases as a boy, she makes up her mind to involve him in all her English Christmas traditions.

Passion sparks between the two as they decorate the Christmas tree. Who would have thought such an innocent activity could become so sexually charged? Can Jenny succeed in seducing the hot American and also prove to him that Santa really does exist?

* Includes the Full Seasonal Recipes for meals & snacks mentioned in the story.

Proving Santa Exists Hot Excerpt:

“How are you enjoying your Christmas so far?” I ask, the film credits fading into the background.

“It’s been amazing,” Jonathan enthuses as his eyes meet mine, then a serious shadow darkens their flame. “Christmas was never anything special when I was a kid. We never had a tree. The home said it cost too much and it was a fire hazard.”

I tut and shake my head.

“The highlight was the Santa. We knew he wasn’t real, just a man dressed as Santa. He’d bring each of us a toy. I got a little car one year. I still have it.”

“How come you knew it wasn’t the real Father Christmas?”

“Because we knew there was no real Santa. They told us so all the time. They told us not to get our hopes up because Santa didn’t exist and wouldn’t bring us what we wanted on Christmas Eve.”

“What?” I’m outraged. I feel my blood boiling with the harsh cruelty of it. “Santa does exist.”

“You don’t believe that, do you?” He shakes his head, his eyes wide.

“Yes, yes I do.” I nod my head emphatically. “Maybe not in the way a child does, but I heartily believe in the spirit of Father Christmas. I believe in the meaning behind the make-believe. My faith is in the giving, which is the true centre of the festive season—the heart of it all. It’s all about making life better for other people and, through that, enhancing your own life. Santa definitely exists.”

Suddenly, those lips are on mine again, and his arms wrap around me. I feel his cheek against my skin. I feel moisture there: the trail of a tear. I close my eyes and kiss back, giving. I give him the softest, gentlest kiss I can. I want him to feel cherished. My heart throbs in pain at the harshness he’s suffered in his life. I want to smooth over all those rough edges; I want him to see what I mean about Father Christmas existing.

I pull him closer to me. My arms wrap tighter around him, and I stroke his back to offer comfort. Our lips, in contrast, are joined lustfully. With every small move, I feel my heart beat harder and faster. I become dizzy with the speed at which the blood is whizzing around my body, making every inch of me zing with the created friction and heat. His body presses me back against the sofa arm, twisting my own beneath him.

His lips leave mine and kiss a fizzing trail of pleasure down my neck to my collar bone. His hands rise from their position on my hips to slide under my loose-fitting red jumper and up higher to cup my breasts. The shock of his cool hands through the thin, lacy gauze is deliciously arousing. I groan my appreciation as his fingers dig into the cups and ease out the masses of abundant tit-flesh beneath. Pushing the wool of my jumper up with the tops of his wrists, his lips leave the soft flesh at the hollow of my neck.

Moments later, after my jumper is completely removed, their warm wetness encompasses my nipple, sending even more intense ripples of pleasure throughout my body. I feel him shift until he’s on his knees in front of me. One of my legs is still on the floor, the other is crossed in front of my pubis. I slip a hand between our bodies, running it under his shirt, feeling that soft, supple skin that I’ve only just glimpsed before. I follow the soft trail of hair down from his belly button to the top of his jeans. I feel more than hear the moan he emits from around my nipple as I pop open the brass button, then slide down the zipper.

I can’t believe I am being so forward, but as he doesn’t move to stop me, I yank his jeans and his boxers down to the middle of his thighs. My action emboldens him and he moves back, allowing me to spread my thighs around him. Jonathan strokes down to my legs and pulls up the full length of long, billowing skirt, his mouth still feasting on the white meat of my breasts. A hand of mine rubs through the wiry hair trailing down to his cock. When my flesh touches his, I melt. He’s hard and hot and very willing.

Proving Santa Exists Links:

Amazon.co.uk

http://www.amazon.co.uk/gp/product/B00A7FJ6WQ/ref=as_li_ss_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1634&creative=19450&creativeASIN=B00A7FJ6WQ&linkCode=as2&tag=sexy00-21

Amazon.com

http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00A7FJ6WQ/ref=as_li_ss_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1634&creative=19450&creativeASIN=B00A7FJ6WQ&linkCode=as2&tag=sexy00-21

And this link on my website covers both links and has a blurb/excerpt for people too:

http://victoriablisse.co.uk/books/blissemas-tales-proving-santa-exists

Victoria-Blisse-smallVictoria Blisse is a mother, wife, Christian, Manchester United fan and award winning erotica author. She is also the editor of several Bigger Briefs collections, Smut by the Sea and Smut in the City.

She is equally at home behind a laptop or a cooker and she loves to create stories, poems, cakes and biscuits that make people happy. She was born near Manchester, England and her northern English quirkiness shows through in all of her stories.Passion, love and laughter fill her works, just as they fill her busy life.

Find out more at http://victoriablisse.co.uk or follow and friend Victoria: http://twitter.com/victoriablisse http://facebook.com/victoriablisse

 

 

 

 

Erotic End to October with Smut and Magic and Velvet Tongue

Smut and Magic Rocks!

Partying with the Sh! Ladiez is always fun, and never more so than when it’s a launch party. A launch party at Sh! is always the best, and never better than when it’s a shared launch party! That means Smut and Magic pushed all my buttons for a fabulous evening in London.

I had the honour of sharing this launch party with very talented Smutters, Victoria Blisse and Lucy Felthouse, who were launching their naughty new anthology, Smut in the City, co-edited by these two lovelies, and filled with stories about, well, smut in the city, any city, lots of cities, lots of sexy nastiness written by lots of the very best and hottest erotica authors. Wow, what an anthology! And one I was very excited to share the celebration with.

The party was perfectly timed for me as well. I was the ‘magic’ part of Smut and Magic – well not me per se, but my new novel, Riding the Ether, book two of the Lakeland Heatwave Trilogy and the continuation of the sexy battle of the Elemental Coven against a very nasty, very bad-ass demon, Deacon. And all this just four days before Halloween!

There was the usual combination of fun, filth and fizz. And might I add food, in the form of delectable sweet treats furnished by Lucy’s OH, Ian Hanes, and the Queen of Multi-tasking, Victoria Blisse! There was yumminess on every level!

Of course it wouldn’t be a party without some seriously cool giveaways, some by The House of Erotica, some by each of the authors. The Sh! Ladiez, led by the fabulous Jo, passed out balloons containing a raffle for  one of Sh!’s much-coveted goodie baskets.

When Sh! closed, the party spilled out on the street and over to the basement of the local Byron, accompanied by three of my favourite stunning stars of erotica, Remittance Girl, Kay Jaybee, and Lexie Bay. You can probably guess the topic of discussion. It’s what you’d expect writers to talk about; what makes a good story, what captures the reader’s heart. Of course with the 50SoG phenomenon, these are questions everyone is asking. Times for erotica writers, and for all writers, are changing rapidly. Exciting stuff.

The conversation continued into the wee hours, and once again, I was reminded how lucky I am to be in the company of such a supportive, such an amazing writing community. A special thanks to Lucy and Victoria who made the evening thrice as fun. And that’s a whole lot of fun!

Velvet Tongue pre-Halloween Soiree

As most of you know, I’ve been very much looking forward to reading for Ernesto Serazele’s fabulous Velvet Tongue Erotic Literary Soiree. With it’s pre-Halloween theme it was the perfect setting for me to read about witches and ghosts and demons and sex magic. Shoreditch is such an exciting area of London, and only a few blocks away from Sh! Women’s Store, is the fabulous Bar Kick, where you can get a mean hamburger, play foosball, and once a quarter down in the basement, you can hear naughty poetry, prose, see sexy performances and if you’re lucky see someone get their kit off while they offer you the best in performance poetry.

Rubyyy Jones

 

It was London in the end of October, so naturally the night of the performance it was pouring down rain. We arrived early, wondering if the horrendous weather would put off any of the people planning to attend.

Ernesto Sarezale

We needn’t have worried. By the time Ernesto got the evening under way, the place was packed out, some people dressed as devils and as naughty school girls, some people dressed for fast clothing removal. Me, I was disguised as a mild-mannered American tourist out with her hubby  for a taste of London night life … You don’t believe me??? Well, neither did anyone else …

S. P. Howarth

In addition to some amazing open mic participation, I was lucky enough to share the stage with Anthony Howell, Ernesto Sarezale , S. P. Howarth, and Rubyyy Jones, with a bawdy appearance by Ant Smith.

Ernesto and S.P Howarth both got their kit off while reading fabulous poetry. Of course I hardly noticed the removal of said kit because their poetry was so stunning … You don’t believe me??? Neither did anyone else … Seriously though! Wow! Stunning … poetry!

Demon possession? Or did I just forget where I put my drink?

The best part of the whole evening was just being in a place with so many people who were celebrating sex and all things erotic. That’s definitely my kind of company. Thanks, Ernesto, for inviting me to read. It was truly a fantastic experience. (Thanks Ant Smith and Ernesto for the photos! )

 

More Smut from Felthouse and Blisse!

Smut in the CitySmut in the City, edited by Lucy Felthouse and Victoria Blisse

Sultry, smouldering sex in the city is the theme of this erotic anthology, edited by Victoria Blisse and Lucy Felthouse.

From the stifling heat of the London Underground to the crumbling walls of Rome’s Colosseum, Smut in the City has it all. Whatever your interpretation of sultry urban sex, there’s something nestling between the covers for you. Lusty couples, horny office workers, hunky bakers and gardeners, tourists and the Mafia are portrayed for your titillation in this exciting collection of stories from erotica’s finest authors.

eBook:

Amazon UK
Amazon US
All Romance eBooks
Barnes & Noble
Kobobooks.com

Print:

Amazon UK
Amazon US

Excerpt:

Within the Crumbling Walls

By Lucy Felthouse

Exiting the Colosseo Metro station, Libby shot a grin at her boyfriend, Ciaran. “I don’t think we’ll have any trouble finding it, do you?”

“Hmm?” Ciaran frowned, then turned his gaze in the direction that Libby was pointing. He gave a sheepish smile. “No, I don’t think we will. Shall we put the map away?”

Libby nodded, and Ciaran spun round so she should take the map and load it into his backpack. Zipping it back up, she patted it twice to signal she was done. Ciaran turned and held out his hand. She took it, and together they took their lives in their hands crossing the busy Roman road and walked to the Colosseum.

Despite the early hour, the queue was already considerable, and the couple exchanged a wry look. But then Libby remembered something. “Hey, don’t look so glum babe. We can skip the queue, remember?”

Ciaran frowned. “We can?”

Pulling a small credit card shaped and sized item from her pocket, she replied, “Yes! Our Roma cards mean we can get in quicker. That was one of the selling points the rep kept going on about when she was trying to flog them to us.”

Ciaran slapped his forehead theatrically, then retrieved his own card from his pocket. “Of course!” He used his not inconsiderable height to peer over the heads of the group in front of him. “Okay, I see it. There’s a separate line for Roma Pass holders, and it’s moving tons quicker. Hurrah!”

He made his way through the crowd, using a combination of touches on people’s backs and the words “excuse me.” Libby followed quickly in his wake. Soon they were at the back of the very short and swiftly-moving queue. People passed through, showing their cards to a very stern-looking Italian man, who nodded and pointed them towards another line.

This time they scanned their cards through some kind of barcode reader, and finally, they were in. Within the crumbling walls of the ancient Colosseum, probably the most famous landmark in Rome. Looking around, Libby could see why.

Photos and videos didn’t do it justice. She wasn’t sure if Colosseum translated to colossal or not, but it was certainly the most apt word to describe the place. It really was huge—and they hadn’t even seen the best part yet. Following Ciaran from the ticket booth area—which was literally within the great walls—they passed out into the open area in the middle. Libby gasped. It was amazing.

They were at ground level, with two or three levels above—she wasn’t sure which—and of course, the one below. Where the gladiators, warriors and fierce creatures would have been kept before being forced to fight in the arena.

Realising Ciaran was gaping at the sight before them too, she encouraged him forward. “Come on, we’re kind of in the way here.” Looking left, she saw an area which was fenced off and held warning signs urging the public not to enter. Libby snorted. The whole place was falling to pieces, how could they possibly deem one section more dangerous than another?

Shaking her head, she turned her attention to the right and saw an area which would allow them a better view of the arena floor. She grabbed Ciaran’s hand and pulled him with her.

Leaning on a barrier and looking out, Libby saw that arena “floor” was not an accurate description. At one end of the enormous structure, a wooden base had been erected, but the rest of the oval was open, displaying what lay beneath. It looked like a labyrinth, and suddenly she became aware of an English-speaking tour guide telling his group the history of the place. She eavesdropped for a while, then fell to thinking how lucky she was to have been born in this day and age. She’d never know anyone who’d be thrown to their deaths in such a place—or be forced to watch them killed in such a brutal manner.

*****

Lucy Felthouse: http://lucyfelthouse.co.uk

Victoria Blisse: http://www.victoriablisse.co.uk

 

A Kiss in the Dark Can Lead to Hot Sex, Magic and Free Goodies!

When I was a kid it was always a contest to see who would have the most goodies in the Trick-or-Treat bag for Halloween. Well Blisse Kiss After Dark will guarantee full goodie bags for anyone who likes their treats on the spicy, extra naughty side. Victoria Blisse and Kevin Mitnik are forever coming up with fabulous ways to share great erotica and help us all celebrate sex. And how could they resist paranormal erotic fun for the season. Halloween is nearly upon us and who wouldn’t want a steamy kiss in the dark and all the goodies that could lead to.

I’m all about goodies and kisses and since I’m launching book two of my paranormal erotic Lakeland Heatwave trilogy, Riding the Ether, I’m celebrating by giving away free downloads of the first novel, Body Temperature and Rising, on Amazon and in iTunes. Hot ghosts and witches, demons and sex magic all yours for the downloading. That’s a great start for filling anyone’s goodie bag with nasty steamy paranormal fun.

And since we’re talking magic and paranormal fun, I’m going to add that extra bit of yumminess by giving away an eBook copy of my magical, voyeuristic romp in the veg patch, Allotted Views. Comment for a chance to win.

Here’s a hot kiss in a dark cave excerpt from Body Temperature and Rising to start my naughty Kiss in the Dark celebration. Don’t forget, this full-length novel is now free to download on Amazon Kindle and iTunes. Links are below.  All my way of celebrating the launch of book two, Riding the Ether, now available on Kindle and soon to be in print. Enjoy! Happy Halloween and Blessed Samhain!

Blurb for Body Temperature and Rising:

American transplant to the Lake District, MARIE WARREN, didn’t know she could unleash demons and enflesh ghosts until a voyeuristic encounter on the fells ends in sex with the charming ghost, ANDERSON, and night visits from a demon. To help her cope with her embarrassing and dangerous new abilities, Anderson brings her to the ELEMENTALS, a coven of witches who practice rare sex magic that temporarily allows needy ghosts access to the pleasures of the flesh.

DEACON, the demon Marie has unleashed, holds an ancient grudge against TARA STONE, coven high priestess, and will stop at nothing to destroy all she holds dear. Marie and her landlord, the reluctant young farmer, TIM MERIWETHER, are at the top of his list. Marie and Tim must learn to wield coven magic and the numinous power of their lust to stop Deacon’s bloody rampage before the coven is torn apart and more innocent people die.

Excerpt:

‘I lost my compass,’ she said.

‘I’m very sorry to hear that,’ he replied.

Almost before she knew it they were descending. ‘Not to worry,’ he spoke close to Marie’s ear. ‘I am as familiar with these fells as I am my own face. Once we are safely down to Grange, Tara will be waiting for us.’

He made no attempt to explain who Tara was, nor did he introduce himself. That was her first clue that he might have been aware of her voyeuristic escapade.

‘We shall be down very quickly,’ he added, turning his face into the storm.

But they weren’t.

The weather worsened to a downpour. Bent double in the wind, Marie was soaked to the skin and shivering by the time Anderson pulled her into a cave that she hadn’t even seen until they were safe inside. He took her just deep enough to be out of the weather, but not beyond the reach of daylight.

‘We shall wait out the storm here.’ He offered her a smile and gestured around the cave, which she could now see was a disused quarry. ‘There are lots of caves and quarries around the Lake District,’ He said. ‘Some are fenced off for the protection of curious tourists, and others, such as this one are unknown to but a few.’

‘And your girl friend, won’t she be worried?’

The tolerant smile he offered made her aware of her mistake. ‘Tara knows what I would do in such weather.’ Then he added, ‘Though she is very dear to me, Tara is not my girlfriend.’

Before she could say anything he chuckled softly. ‘I know that you saw us together, and there’s no need to apologize. Neither of us was upset that you enjoyed our love making. In fact we rather hoped it would please you. Besides one must certainly expect such encounters when one chooses the middle of a well-travelled path for a rendezvous. Now remove your shirt for me, please.’

When she balked, he added. ‘You’re cold and wet. I only wish to make you more comfortable and prevent you catching your death.’ He had already shed his jacket and handed it to her. She was astonished to find it completely dry. ‘You may wear this.’

When she made no effort to put it on, he sighed and scooted closer to her. ‘Please, we must get you dry and warm.’ He unzipped her anorak and pushed it off her shoulders, then tugged the hem of her shirt out of her trousers. His hands were unbelievably warm grazing her bare skin. She lifted her arms, and he slid the wet shirt off over her head, then he reached behind her to unhook her bra while his other hand deftly dispatched with the buttons of his black shirt. ‘Now please, put this on.’ He slid the jacket around her shoulders like a blanket, shoved his shirt open and pulled her against him.

She wasn’t sure why, but it seemed such a natural thing to slide her arms around him, beneath his shirt, which was as dry as the jacket. As she settled in close, his chest expanded against her bare breasts, and his breath hitched.

‘You are freezing. I think you very much need my body heat.’

‘And you seem to have lots of it to offer,’ she spoke between chattering teeth, suddenly very aware of the gouge of her tightly puckered nipples against his warm chest.

He laughed softly, and she felt the deep low rumble of it clear through her centre. ‘My dear, you’re welcome to as much heat as I’m able to generate.’

The urge was overpowering. She rose on her haunches and kissed him. Out of the clear blue, she just lifted her mouth to his as though it were hers to take, as though she owned it. And he responded in complete acceptance to her possession, warm lips yielding, encouraging, inviting, making room for the flick of her tongue, welcoming her with the flick of his own.

‘You taste of her,’ she whispered when she came up for breath.

He cupped her face in a large hand and ran a callused thumb over her bottom lip. ‘But her taste pleases you, does it not?’

She nodded. ‘I can see why it pleased you so much.’ She was suddenly, painfully aware of her brazenness. What the hell was the matter with her behaving this way with a man who was, for all practical purposes, a total stranger?

She was about to apologize when he pulled her hand to his lips and suckled her fingers, the ones that had been in her panties not all that long ago. He held her in a gaze deeper than the quarry that now protected them. ‘Your taste also pleases me. Even more so than I imagined.

The thought made her snatch tense with delight. ‘You imagined my taste?’

‘Of course I did, but experiencing the aftertaste of someone’s pleasure, though nice, is never as enjoyable as tasting for oneself.’

She had no time to do more than squirm at the heat of his comment before he pulled away to remove her boots and wet socks, lingering to chafe her cold feet between his hands, then he opened her trousers with amazing ease. She lifted her ass as he slid them off, along with her panties, then he settled her onto his lap. ‘Your bottom will not appreciate alighting upon a cold slab of slate,’ he said. He guided her to wrap her legs around his waist and arranged the tale of his shirt to cover them. Then he shifted to better balance himself and offered a soft sigh as his hands slid to her hips.

A quiver of a gasp escaped her throat as she found herself sitting spread and gaping against the erection his trousers clothed, but certainly couldn’t hide. The flash-fire burn below her belly flared again then hummed low and warm as though someone had adjusted the flame. At the sudden shock of it, she buried her face in his shoulder and clenched her teeth to keep from crying out with the startling friction of it

‘I believe my trousers will bear the imprint of your lovely womanhood when the weather clears and we leave this place. Do you mark me as your territory? I am honoured.’

His insinuation made her pussy even slicker, and she was sure he was right. She was making a sticky mess of the front of his trousers. She rubbed herself against him taking in the size of him beneath the soft black fabric, and he grunted hard and shuddered at her efforts. ‘Maybe you should take them off, save embarrassing stains and allow me a little more of that body heat you’re so generous with.’

He offered her a wicked smile. “My dear, my delicate bare bottom is no more fond of sitting on cold slate than yours is, but perhaps we can find an acceptable compromise.’ He ran a hand between them, jostling her slightly in his efforts to open his fly, releasing his cock and heavy balls. The whimper that escaped her lips was involuntary as she pressed upward to renegotiate for space.

He held her gaze. ‘Are you sure this is what you want?

‘Don’t you?’ She raked herself against him once more, and he shuddered

‘I do. Very much.’

She was relieved. She had never been more sure of anything in her life. She didn’t know why that should be. Perhaps it had something to do with the burning ache at her centre that had awakened again and crawled over her sex, up the vertebrates of her spine like an eruption of rising sparks. She scrambled to reposition, her bare feet pressing onto the chilled slate until he lifted her bottom. She tugged at the length of him shifting her hips as his thumb brushed open her pussy lips. ‘Oh my dear, you are very ready, indeed,’ he breathed. ‘Such soft luscious wetness.’

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© 2018 K D Grace
The Romance Reviews

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