Category: Sexy Reads

Sexy Reads – The Art Teacher

Mireille, a high school senior just weeks shy of graduation, has no qualms admitting that the real reason she sticks around long after the final bell is not to work on her painting for the upcoming show, but to admire the masterpiece that is her art teacher, Mr. Thompson. When a mysterious phone call prompts him to shut the door to his back office, Mireille can’t help but succumb to the temptation to spy. To her surprise and delight, Mr. Thompson is only too eager to put on a private show of his own. Read this story and many others in Best Women’s Erotica 2015, from Cleis Press.

Excerpt

I hear papers shuffling and the creak of his office chair, followed by footsteps and the uneven spray of water sputtering out of the old faucet where we cleanse our brushes and palettes. He is in the classroom now, maybe twenty feet behind me.

I am standing at a long table where I have laid out an assortment of paints and other tools, as well as my work-in-progress. I bend over the metal slab and roll onto the balls of my feet so that my ass is slightly raised and my back arched. I hope I’m not being too obvious in my short skirt, gray stockings with rose detailing, and black tank top. Technically, we aren’t supposed to wear tank tops to school, but since it’s after hours and I’m growing bored with subtlety, I’ve removed my sweatshirt so that Mr. Thompson can get a better look at my sizable chest and petite figure. I’m no model by any stretch of the imagination, but puberty has been surprisingly kind to me, so although I may stand almost a foot shorter than him, I am well-proportioned. More than anything, I hope he notices this, too.

I’ve hiked the skirt up a bit so that when I bend over, one can just barely see a hint of my purple knickers. I’ve always loved that word; it’s naughtier than underwear and less trite than panties. The fact that I’m not British is of little concern to me.

The faucet squeaks and then there is silence. I assume he’s still at the counter but don’t dare turn to look. I pray to every God and Goddess that has ever existed that he is noticing me, the hint of purple fabric, and how the lace trim on my stockings clings to the flesh of my upper thighs. Of course, there’s always the possibility that he’s eyeing me with disdain, thinking my efforts silly or too transparent. I would die if he asked me to cover up. Then again, I would die if he asked me to take it off. Please, just fucking kill me already.

Mr. Thompson’s footsteps break the silence, growing louder as he meanders over to the table. My heart threatens to choke me but I remain composed. He is standing beside me, surveying my work. I happen to be shading the woman’s left breast, relying on neon yellows and navy blues to give it a more three-dimensional appearance.

“This is coming along beautifully, Mireille. I really like how you’ve decided to go with unconventional colors. They stand out nicely against the black background.” He gestures to the work I’ve already completed around her face, those lean, beautiful hands moving in ways that both thrill and transfix. I can’t help but relish the way my name expertly rolls off of his tongue; he obviously speaks French.

“Thanks.” I am nervous and can’t seem to raise my voice above a loud whisper but the emptiness of the room negates the need to project myself.

“Do you think you’ll have it ready by next Friday?” His gray-blue eyes follow the brush as it strokes the underside of the painted woman’s breast.

Mr. Thompson does not look at me, which I find to be both a blessing and a tragedy. I watch him longer than I should, marveling at his sharp cheekbones and the angle of his jaw, all painfully untouchable.

“I think so. The outline is almost finished. All I have left to do is the shading.”

He glances at me and my groin tightens. I bite the interior of my cheek to distract myself and avert my eyes back down toward the painting. The woman’s stare mocks me.

“Well, let me know if I can help in any way.” Mr. Thompson turns and retraces his steps to the back office.

My thoughts race as I think of all the things I’d like him to help me with. For starters, he might help me out of my skirt and stockings. After which, he could help himself to my virgin cunt. Damn, I love that word. My mother absolutely cannot abide hearing it but I use it every chance I get.

Cunt. My tight, virgin cunt. My hungry cunt.

I really must stop before I lose my composure, as I’ve already begun squeezing my thighs together and rocking back and forth reflexively. The fact that I have to pee only draws more attention to that sadly neglected area. It’s not that I do not masturbate because I do, often, but I’ve never had another person besides my family doctor touch me there. It’s one thing to do it yourself, to have complete control over which areas get stimulated and in what way, but I can only imagine how exciting and scary it would be to have another person’s hands, fingers and—oh gosh—mouth down there, manipulating me in ways I can’t even conceptualize.

The shriek of a telephone in Mr. Thompson’s office jolts me out of my reverie and I realize that I’ve just accidentally over-shaded the painted woman’s right breast.

“Shit,” I hiss, dipping my brush into a bit of yellow in the hopes of compensating for the damage.

Mr. Thompson answers the phone at a normal volume but then begins to speak in hushed whispers. I hear footsteps and then the sound of a heavy door creaking and latching. I turn and see that he has closed the door to his office. At the same time, I notice a quarter-sized hole beneath the knob. The door must have featured a lock at one point but, for whatever reason, it was removed. I debate the ethics of grasping this opportunity to spy on him and my curiosity is far more powerful than any sense of morality. Before long, I’m removing my gray flats and slinking towards the door.

I crouch, hovering just above the floor with my eye to the peephole. I can barely make out his side of the conversation and am both affronted and intrigued by what I hear.

“Of course I’ve thought about you since August. How could I not? That was some of the best damn head I’ve ever gotten.”

He is talking to a woman. I know this because the tinny, unintelligible voice coming out the other end of the phone sounds high-pitched, feminine. His own voice is low and guttural, deeper than I’m used to hearing in class. I’m both insanely jealous and eager to hear more.

Mr. Thompson is reclining in his desk chair with his legs spread wide and his other hand stuffed inside the pocket of his paint-stained jeans. There is some squeaky dialogue from the other end of the line. I wish I could hear what she’s saying, as he’s obviously enjoying the conversation. The thought of myself ever being the catalyst for that broad, lascivious smile on his face makes my cunt throb.

“I’m glad I was able to do that for you.” He pauses, listening, then continues, “If I could, I’d drive up there this weekend and finish you off properly.”

More muffled dialogue, then, “Nah, I have this art show thing to get ready for so I’ll be pretty busy till next weekend. Believe me, I’d much rather spend the next three days with my head between your legs.” A sly smile spreads across his face. “Oh, really? Well, you’re welcome to try.”

Read and purchase the rest of the story at

Amazon: http://amzn.com/B00NP8MIEA

Cleis Press: http://www.cleispress.com/book_page.php?book_id=637

Image courtesy of Rachel Woe

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March 4, 2015
Sexy Reads – Harriet: A Family Affair

The Mallory Malloy Collection is a collection of erotic short stories chronicling the sex life of Benjamin from college to the advanced stages of a professional career. From wealthy, privileged women pay him for his time, to US Ambassadors, preacher’s wives to his girlfriend’s daughter and her BFF, Mallory Malloy stories are as funny and smart as they are explicit.

Excerpt

Joan walked up to Benjamin and placed her arms around his neck and kissed him. It was a warm, tender kiss, as if they were in love. Then she pressed her body against his cock.

“My beautiful, beautiful boy,” she whispered. “There are some things I want to do to you. And then there are some things you are going to do to me.”

Joan kissed again, tenderly and with an open mouth, her granddaughter’s boyfriend

“First, I am going to suck that large, hard cock of yours.”

Joan’s tongue tickled one of Benjamin’s ears.

“Nobody in this family sucks dick like I do. Nobody. Not that child you’re seeing now,” Joan hissed dismissively “and certainly not her mother. Nobody.”

“Really?”

“Young man, when you marry this rich it ain’t for love. You’ve got to earn it. Head is a good way to do that.”

Benjamin smiled.

“Then you are going to eat me out. Then you are going to fuck me. Do you understand that?”

Benjamin nodded softly.

Joan took Benjamin’s hand and led him to a wall. She moved a framed picture of her, Harriet and Brenda and pushed a button.

The wall moved silently. It revealed a short hallway with soft lighting.

Joan took Benjamin’s hand and led him to the end of the hall, where she pushed another button.

Another door slid open, revealing a small bedroom. There was a king sized bed, nightstands on each side and another door that led to a washroom.

“Make all the noise you want. The library is not only remote, it’s soundproofed. Trust me.”

Benjamin still maintained silence. He was going to fuck this beautiful older woman. There was nothing to say.

“Get naked, young man.” Benjamin complied. Joan took off her bikini. There were some signs of age. 59 is 59, after all, but the wrinkles were few and Joan didn’t look a whole lot older than her daughter, Harriet.

Both naked, she told Benjamin to get on the bed, preferably on his back. Benjamin complied and in short order Joan joined Benjamin and began sucking Benjamin’s dick. Joan did this with enthusiasm. She enjoyed sucking dick, and she especially enjoyed sucking 21-year-old dick. Sadly, however, Joan had seen her opportunities to suck 21-year-old dick diminish over the years.

But not end entirely. Though the number of young men in their 20’s that were attracted to Joan had declined as she got older, Joan had a great deal of experience fucking younger men. It began when her beloved daughter Harriet was in high school and began throwing parties, which were attended by a variety of young, strapping boys. Most of these boys were not attracted to women her age, but some were, and it wasn’t particularly difficult to find which boys these were. They were the ones with tents in their swim trunks when Joan happened to run into them in the kitchen. They were ones who stared at her and tried to drum up lame conversation with her and who enjoyed it when a foxy older broad grabbed their cocks while they were alone in the kitchen, even though anyone, like Harriet – or their girlfriends – for instance, could walk in at any time. It took some planning so innocent, precious Harriet didn’t find out, but Joan got her share of young cock.

Nobody would know. The estate was large and the party was well on the other side and she wasn’t going to tell her guests she had just fucked her granddaughter’s boyfriend. Also, Benjamin could probably be trusted not to go around blabbing about what a great lay Joan was, either. As long as they weren’t gone too long and didn’t waltz back to the party holding hands it was likely no one would miss them. The library, and the servant, had been doing their duty for years.

Joan really did not want to stop sucking Benjamin’s dick. It was insanely hard and thick and long and young, but they didn’t have all day, and Joan desperately wanted the 21-year-old cock in her pussy.

So she rolled over and Benjamin was on top of her before Joan could order it. Her perfume was intoxicating. He kissed her and sucked on her tongue and worked his way down Joan’s neck and before he knew it he was working on Joan’s breasts. They were nice breasts, still firm, still more or less real. The surgery to keep them looking young had been as discreet as it had been expert.

Benjamin worked his way down Joan’s stomach and soon was eating 59-year-old pussy. He liked it, too.

Benjamin tried to explain his older woman tendencies to a buddy once but he didn’t see it. Too bad for him, Benjamin thought, because nobody fucks like an older broad getting young cock. Nobody. And Joan’s pussy tasted just like her granddaughter Brenda’s pussy tasted.

Joan, though, had more patience than her granddaughter. Where Brenda got really worked up really quick, Joan was willing to let Benjamin do his work. It wasn’t expert work, by any means. Benjamin, after all, was a younger man and while in possession of the raw materials required for pleasing a hot older blond, his pussy eating technique, tragically, was more useful for eating corn on the cob. But Joan’s guiding hand provided expert instruction, however and in no time at all Joan had Benjamin eating her out so well she lost count of the number of times she had come.

Benjamin found he had zero moral issues with eating out his girlfriend’s grandmother. None at all. It was rather easy, actually. 38 years was a lot of age difference, but Joan wasn’t Benjamin’s first older blonde. Two, he and Brenda weren’t exactly Couple of the Year and Benjamin thought they probably would be broken up before the holidays.

Joan certainly didn’t care. Her life, while certainly luxurious and not too difficult, had not been particularly satisfying. Like most women, she liked the cock and her late husband had been a dutiful provider, but her husband had been her age.

On Joan’s orders Benjamin stopped eating her pussy and started fucking her.

Read the rest of Harriet: A Family Affair for FREE at http://mallorymalloy.net/HarrietRead.htm

Image courtesy of Mallory Malloy

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February 25, 2015
Sexy Reads – Red, White & Used

Red, White, & Used is a dark story that chronicles the life of Allison Holden, a striking redhead with a dysfunctional past. She engages in adulterous and unhealthy relationships with men who mentally and physically abuse her. Follow Allie on this non-stop ride, filled with twists and turns, as the chaos of her life unfolds.

Excerpt

He pushed me to the floor and I landed on my face. I couldn’t brace myself because my hands were tied behind my back. I was already sore, and he was only beginning.

His strong hands grabbed my right hip and shoulder and flipped me onto my back. My arms were pinned beneath me in an awkward contortion. I couldn’t see him. The blindfold prevented me from seeing anything about my surroundings or what was happening to me.

I felt his weight on my shoulders. He must have crouched down and pressed his knees into the carpet on either side of my head. His shins pinned my shoulders to the floor. He grabbed the hair on top of my head and yanked my head upward. With his other hand he opened my jaw.

He had a pretty big dick; I knew that already. And being unable to control the insertion into my mouth, it went in so deep I nearly choked. The gagging seemed to turn him on. He continued to brutally fuck my mouth, guiding the movement with one hand on my lower jaw and the other clinging tightly to my hair.

Just when I didn’t think I could take any more, he dropped my head back onto the floor. I felt him lift off of me, but knew I was in for more punishment. There was an eerie silence and lack of activity for an excruciating amount of time. For a moment, I thought he had left me there like that.

I let out a sharp shriek when he landed on top of me again. This time he attacked my breasts. He yanked open my shirt and pushed my bra upwards giving him unhindered access. He squeezed and pinched one breast while licking and sucking the other. His mouth stayed on my nipple while his hand slid down to my skirt. Jerking it upward, he tore it a little. Then I felt his hand inside of my panties. His fingers were rough against my smooth skin. He shoved two fingers inside of me unapologetically, and massaged me from the inside.

My hands and arms ached from being pinned under the weight of both of our bodies. He didn’t care. My pleas and moans only served to arouse him.

With a few strong tugs, he ripped my panties off of my hips. He didn’t bother removing all of my clothes, only what he needed to gain access to the parts of my body he wanted. And there was nothing I could do about it.

Suddenly, I was face down again, and lint from the carpet was in my mouth. He yanked my hips upward so that they were supported by my knees. Then he entered me from behind. One hand squeezed my ass while the other pressed my head against the floor. He pushed in and out of me aggressively, and I was sure I would get rug-burn on my face. And he was in me so goddamn deep.

No, I was not getting raped. That’s just how I liked it – hard and rough. I was being completely dominated, and I loved every second of it. Being utterly helpless was such a turn on for me. I was his toy to do with whatever he pleased.

He came inside of me, and held himself there until every drop of his fluid had drained. He left me completely satisfied, yet still wanting more. I relaxed onto the carpet and waited to be released from my bondage. After a moment of quiet, I felt him untying the nylon ropes from my wrist. Then he removed my blindfold.

I could finally see Trevor Masterson – the man who made my toes curl; the man who dominated me and brought me to the pinnacle of ecstasy. I was crazy about him, or at least what he did for me. However, I wasn’t sure if Masterson were his real name. It seemed too convenient that a guy who liked to be the “master” was named Masterson. I didn’t care if he was lying to me. Our relationship certainly wasn’t about truth and honesty. It was just about kinky passionate sex.

I had been seeing Trevor for about a month. We didn’t have a slow kindling romantic relationship like a typical couple. No, we had crazy animalistic sex the first night we met. He had shown me pornographic pictures on his cell phone of couples engaged in bondage, domination, submission, humiliation, you name it. It was the type of sex I had wanted to try for a long time. And Trevor was more than happy to oblige.

We got together about once a week, or whenever I could get away. Of course, I always had to keep our dates discreet. I was sure my husband would not approve.

Purchase and read the rest of Red, White & Used at http://jamieagee.com/erotic-stories-red-white-used

Image courtesy of Vanessa Vale

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February 18, 2015
Sexy Reads – Awakening the Willow’s Heart

Miya Jenkins comes from a troubled home, but she’s determined to be a success and learns to trust her instincts and never relinquish control, all while enjoying what life and men have to offer. Sister and brother, Cate and Caden Walker, are her best friends. Caden is always there for her, always protective, always a comfort, but wanting more. Miya is not willing to sacrifice their friendship, but she wonders if anyone can ever tear down the high walls built around her heart.

Excerpt

I looked over at Caden who had become very quiet all of a sudden. “What?” His eyes were an intense brown. He wore a determined an expression on his face.

“So, JW Events, huh?” He scooted closer to me. Passion filled his eyes.

I nodded and my heart started to race. Breathlessly, I whispered, “Caden, I…” As soon as his name escaped my mouth, his covered mine. His lips were soft, but his kiss was hungry. I was shocked at first. Instantly my body sobered up. At the same time, my lips parted and my tongue flirted with his. My body relaxed, and my arms wound around his neck. He pulled me close.

Caden kissed my neck. “Tell me to stop, Miya, if you don’t want this.”

I couldn’t say a damn thing. I should have, but I didn’t want to. We were roommates. We were best friends. His family took me in when I had no one. My abusive past had left me totally fucked up but right now, my brain and my body weren’t on the same planet. I took a deep breath and melted into his arms. All logic flew right out the window. I was a woman. He was a man, a mighty fine one too, and that was all that mattered now.

Caden picked me up and cradled me in his arms. He carried me into my bedroom. His legs were as steady as could be, despite the tequila shots we had consumed. He broke the kiss only long enough to look into my eyes. “I want you, Miya.”

I cupped his face and devoured his mouth. He put me down and swiftly pulled my T-shirt off over my head. I pulled his off with the same immediate need. He yanked my yoga pants and thong down in one fell swoop. He took a step back and looked at me. “Damn. You are so fucking beautiful.”

“Caden,” I whispered through my panting breath, and pulled him back toward me. I shoved down his sweats and boxer briefs. He pushed me down on the bed. He parted my legs and his mouth immediately descended onto my sex. His tongue lapped my slit over, and over again. It settled on my tight swollen nub as his fingers thrust in me.

“Oh, God,” I moaned as my fingers mussed up his hair and clenched there. Just as I was on the brink, he stopped and his hard cock filled me.

“Fuck Miya. You feel so good.” He pulled back out and thrust in harder. His thrusts became harder and harder each time.

His mouth and hands caressed my breasts, while my own explored every damn sexy muscle on his body. My legs started to quiver as my pussy contracted around his cock. I emitted a passionate moan as I rode out the waves of my orgasm. My body milked Caden, and he joined me with his own low guttural growl.

Watch the book trailer here https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-G0mC5out3Y&feature=youtu.be and you can order it online at http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00SM83E7I

Awakening the Willow’s Heart is also available in print on Barnes & Noble

All images courtesy of Jacqueline Anne
Have an erotica or book you like to share and promote on SimplySxy? Drop us an email at editorial@SimplySxy.com!

February 11, 2015
Fifty Shades of Valentine

Valentine’s Day is traditionally a celebration of cupids, confections, and crimson, but many lovers are moving beyond chocolates and red roses. This year, lovers are looking for a bit of kink along with the romance. E.L. James’s mega-hit, Fifty Shades of Grey, has spawned more than a movie this Valentine’s Day. The unreleased film has already made movie history as the fastest selling R-rated title in Fandango history, supplanting “Sex and the City 2.″ Patrons’ demands have caused theater owners across the globe to offer additional screenings on Friday, February 13^th, a very lucky Friday the 13^th for many.

Those looking for something early might consider The Fifty Shades of Grey soundtrack, complete with sultry singles by Ellie Goulding, Beyoncé, Jessie Ware, Sia, Annie Lennox and even Frank Sinatra, which will hit stores on February 10^th.

Set the stage with a Fifty Shades of Grey vanilla scented candle in a glass container etched with the words “So Smoking Hot.” The music and the candle should prepare you for a glass of Fifty Shades Wine. Pick white, a blend of primarily Gewürztraminer and Sauvignon Blanc, or red, a blend of primarily Petite Sirah and Syrah aged in a combination of new and seasoned French oak barrels. Author E.L. James’s signature embosses each bottle.

After the music, wine, reading and lube, Vermont Teddy Bear has come up with a memorable gift. Described as “daring, passionate, exciting next-to-skin touch with silky, smoky Grey fur; smoldering Grey eyes; a handsome grey suit and silver tie. He even comes with a mask and handcuffs.”

Perhaps you’re not a fan of Fifty Shades of Grey, because let’s face it, not everyone is. I have rounded up a group of books so intense and erotic, you will fall upon the first surface you find and have a nice go at it with the partner of your choice. Heck, with a couple of these steamy reads, you may want more than one partner.

My personal favorite erotic series is The Stark Trilogy by J. Kenner. Everyone could use a little Damien Stark in their lives.

Title: Release Me
Series: Stark Trilogy #1
Author: J. Kenner

Blurb:
For fans of Fifty Shades of Grey and Bared to You comes an erotic, emotionally charged romance between a powerful man who’s never heard “no” and a fiery woman who says “yes” on her own terms.

He was the one man I couldn’t avoid. And the one man I couldn’t resist.
Damien Stark could have his way with any woman. He was sexy, confident, and commanding: Anything he wanted, he got. And what he wanted was me.

Our attraction was unmistakable, almost beyond control, but as much as I ached to be his, I feared the pressures of his demands.
Submitting to Damien meant I had to bare the darkest truth about my past—and risk breaking us apart.

But Damien was haunted, too. And as our passion came to obsess us both, his secrets threatened to destroy him—and us—forever. Release Me is an erotic romance intended for mature audiences.

Title: Bared to You
Series: Crossfire #1
Author: Sylvia Day

Blurb:
“Full of emotional angst, scorching love scenes, and a compelling storyline.”—Dear Author

THE NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLER
Gideon Cross came into my life like lightning in the darkness…

He was beautiful and brilliant, jagged and white-hot. I was drawn to him as I’d never been to anything or anyone in my life. I craved his touch like a drug, even knowing it would weaken me. I was flawed and damaged, and he opened those cracks in me so easily…

Gideon knew. He had demons of his own. And we would become the mirrors that reflected each other’s most private wounds…and desires.The bonds of his love transformed me, even as i prayed that the torment of our pasts didn’t tear us apart…

Title: Hardwired
Series: Hacker
Author: Meredith Wild

Blurb:
Determined to overcome a difficult past, Erica Hathaway learns early on to make it on her own. Days after her college graduation, she finds herself face to face with a panel of investors who will make or break her fledgling startup. The only thing she didn’t prepare for was going weak in the knees over an arrogant and gorgeous investor who seems determined to derail her presentation.

Billionaire and rumored hacker Blake Landon has already made his fortune in software, and he’s used to getting what he wants. Captivated by Erica’s drive and unassuming beauty, he’s wanted nothing more than to possess her since she stepped into his boardroom. Determined to win her over, he breaks down her defenses and fights for her trust, even if it means sacrificing a level of control he’s grown accustomed to.

But when Blake uncovers a dark secret from Erica’s past, he threatens not just her trust, but the life she’s fought so hard to create.

And now I’d like to introduce two authors who I was reading well before the post E. L. James Erotica Boom hit.

Maya Banks Sweet series stole my breath and my heart, usually at the same time. This series, specifically, revolves around a group of friends all looking for some sort of love. Some wish to dominate, some are submissive, there’s a bit of sharing here and there, and then there’s just some plain Jane, vanilla, sweet, home-grown love that still burns hot in the sack. Maya Banks has several different series, the Sweet series being the only one I’ve read, but I’ve heard amazing things about her KGI series.

Title: Sweet Surrender
Author: Maya Banks
Series: Sweet Series

Blurb:
Under Faith Malone’s deceptively soft exterior lies a woman who knows exactly what she wants: a strong man who’ll take without asking—because she’s willing to give him everything…

Dallas cop Gray Montgomery is on a mission: find the guy who killed his partner and bring him to justice. So far, he’s found a link between the killer and Faith—and if Gray has to get close to her to catch the killer, so be it.

Faith is sweet and feminine, everything Gray wants and desires in a woman, but he suspects she’s playing games. No way would she allow a man to call the shots in their relationship. Or would she?

Faith sees in Gray the strong, dominant man she needs, but he seems determined to keep her at a distance. So she takes matters into her own hands to prove to him it’s no game she’s playing. She’s willing to surrender to the right man. Gray would like to be that man. But catching his partner’s killer has to be his first priority—until Faith is threatened and Gray realizes he will do anything to protect her…

Opal Carew is a writer who takes risks. Her erotica is no holds barred and not for the weak of heart. I’ve read a few different books by her and always end up loving them, but the amount of times my jaw drops usually reaches uncountable proportions. Her women are strong, and even though they don’t always know what they want until they get it, they always end up in romances perfect for their needs. She is an author I would advise only reading if you’re open-minded and you enjoy a steamy read, because I promise there will be steam.

Title: Swing
Author: Opal Carew

Blurb:
It all started with an innocent request…Melissa’s friend Shane asked her to accompany him on a business trip to an exclusive resort. But The Sweet Surrender is no ordinary vacation spot–it’s for men and women who swing. As Melissa mingles with the other guests and discovers the resort’s fantasy rooms, she’s tempted to explore her naughty side and live out her most sinful fantasies—but she isn’t prepared for the storm of desire that awaits. She soon finds herself torn between two men, one of her oldest friends and a handsome stranger who belongs to another. Both men bring her the most exquisite pleasure, but which man will win her heart?

Her work has been described as “scorching,” “intoxicating” and “brilliant,” and this is Opal Carew’s hottest novel yet. Visit The Sweet Surrender and sample its decadent pleasures for yourself…if you can take the heat.

Can you take the heat? With excerpts from one or all of these books, you and your partner are guaranteed a good time. Also, let’s not forget those without Valentine’s Day dates. Grab that glass of wine, one of your favorite pleasure toys, a before mentioned book, and crawl under the covers for a sexy night for one. Who knows, you may very well have a better time than your friends who are out on dates. You won’t disappoint yourself.

Images courtesy of Francesca Miller
Have an amazing experience or tips you like to share on SimplySxy? Drop us an email at editorial@SimplySxy.com!

February 10, 2015
Sexy Reads – Dominating Devney
Widow Devney Jenkins needs to remarry, and quickly as she’s quite a prize for any money-grubbing bachelor. Cowboy Sam Bridger takes one look at Devney Jenkins and decides his bachelor days are over. Devney doesn’t give in easily to Sam as her new husband and must learn through sound spankings and pleasurable and very carnal rewards that being under Sam’s control is everything she’s ever wanted.

Excerpt

“Up on the table, please,” Doctor Graham repeated.

Still, I couldn’t move. I was too modest for something such as this. Mr. Bridger took the two steps between us, placed his large hands gently about my waist and lifted me upon the hard surface. “Lie back, baby.” His voice was deep, yet quiet, his breath fanning against the nape of my neck. “Let me take care of you.” I still paused. “Or I can spank you for not doing as I say, then you can lie back. Your choice.” He was serious. His gaze was half tenderness, half sternness. How could he have any tender feelings if he wanted to spank me? The very idea had me obeying.

Slowly, I laid back against the cool wood, keeping my eyes on him as I did so.

“Bend your knees up,” Doctor Graham told me.

Mr. Bridger must have seen something there, some hint to my feelings, because he slowly positioned my feet against the surface for me.

“Pull your dress up, please.”

I looked down my body at both men. Doctor Graham stood at the end of the table, Mr. Bridger to my side, although I knew as soon as I lifted the bottom of my dress, they’d both be able to see me. There.

“Do you want to do it or do you need help?” Mr. Bridger asked, his gaze still pinned to mine.

With shaky fingers, I tugged the hem of my dress to my waist in one quick yank, the cool air raising goose bumps on my legs. “Good girl,” Mr. Bridger murmured before standing up to his full height.

Both men stared at me intently, but I watched Mr. Bridger for reaction. His jaw clenched tight and his eyes narrowed in intensity as he looked at my exposed body. “That’s one gorgeous pussy, baby,” he whispered.

“I don’t see any chafing, but her pussy lips are very red and swollen.” Doctor Graham’s voice was calm. Clinical. “Did the harness hurt you?”

I shook my head, my hair sliding over the table top.

“Then you shouldn’t be so swollen.”

“Did you touch yourself, baby?” Mr. Bridger asked, his eyes meeting mine. His gaze was so intense, I felt like a bug pinned to a tray. He didn’t appear angry, didn’t appear upset. In fact, he seemed very attentive. Concerned. Protective.

“No. I couldn’t.” My voice sounded very disappointed.

“Ah,” Doctor Graham said softly.

“But you wanted to, didn’t you? Did you rub the harness against your pussy? Is that why you’re all swollen? Did you ache there?” Mr. Bridger put a hand on the table by my hip, leaned down so his face was close to mine once again. “Do you ache there now?”

I felt my inner muscles clench involuntarily at his words. My cheeks were heated, flushed. I could feel it.

“You do, don’t you, Devney? You’re just afraid to admit it.” He stroked a hand across my forehead, gently pushing my hair back.

I closed my eyes against Mr. Bridger’s verbal assault on my willpower.

“I’ll touch you there, Devney. Do you want my fingers on you? In you? Did you find your clit? I can see it from here, all pink and hard, just begging to be touched.”

I exhaled and it came out a breathy moan. I did. I did want him to do what he said! I thrashed my head side to side, kept my eyes squeezed shut.

“I can see you’re clenching down. What do you want in your pussy, baby? My fingers? My cock?”

“Oh God,” I gasped.

“Do you want Mr. Bridger to touch your pussy, Devney?” Doctor Graham asked, his voice deep. My eyes flew open. I’d forgotten he was even there. Now, knowing he was looking upon me too made me…hotter.

“Do you want me to touch you with Doctor Graham watching? Is that it?” His dark eyes were focused intently on me. My knees splayed open involuntarily. He grinned. “You do. Oh baby, you’re such a good girl.”

I shook my head again, this time in denial. “No, no I’m not. I’m not a good girl. I can’t want this. I can’t want you. I can’t want–”

“Two men to see you come?”

I didn’t know what he meant by come, but I was ashamed to feel even more pleasure at the idea of both men gazing upon me.

Mr. Bridger stood back up, moved down to stand next to Doctor Graham at the foot of the table. I looked at them over the rise and fall of my breasts, past my spread, uncovered legs, my exposed woman’s place. I did want Mr. Bridger to touch me. There was something about him that set him apart from every other man. I wanted him do something so personal, so intimate. I wanted him to do everything he’d said.

“I’ll touch you, baby.”

“Yes, please,” I begged. I bit my lip, stunned at what had escaped.

Loved what you read? Purchase Dominating Devney and read the rest of it at
- http://www.amazon.com/Dominating-Devney-Montana-Maiden-Book-ebook/dp/B00RPT6RX8
- http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/dominating-devney-blushing-books/1120995033?ean=2940150030237
Image courtesy of Vanessa Vale
Have a book you like to feature and promote? Drop us an email at editorial@SimplySxy.com to get in touch!
February 4, 2015
Sexy Reads – Hurt Me, Heal Me

Blurp:

Dante’s Purgatory, Book One

After the death of her Master, Caitlin Bennett discovers years of sadistic cruelty at his hands have made her a slave to pain.

Offering nearly everything she craves, Paul’s perfect—except for his aversion to the whip.

Waiting in the wings is a newbie Dom determined to have Caitlin for his own…who’s learning the whip just for her.

She’ll soon have to choose—the man who can give her what she wants? Or the man who can give her what she needs?

Inside Scoop: Caitlin recalls scenes of abuse that could disturb the more tenderhearted.

Excerpt:

Chapter One

Master was angry.

And Master never got angry.

In all the years Caitlin had spent with him, she had never seen him this way. Even with a bullwhip in his hand, when he was whipping her, punishing her, hurting her, he was always calm—eerily calm in fact.

Those cold, flat, silver-gray eyes, always probing and assessing, delving into her soul to uncover all her fears, all her weaknesses. His almost monotone voice, giving definite but quiet commands. His thin lips, ever so slightly quirked up at one corner as she followed his every instruction to the letter.

Already kneeling on the floor, Caitlin sat back on her heels. The contact of her feet with the welts on her behind stung and burned. She hunched over, naked and shivering as she tried to shrink into herself. Maybe she should just get out of his way? The thought was ridiculous. She never moved unless she was given permission.

Master threw his whip to the ground in disgust. He grabbed her chin and roughly pulled her head up, forcing her to look into his eyes.

“Are you listening to me, girl? Are you hearing what I’m saying to you?” He pulled her head up when she automatically tried to lower it again, forcing her to focus on his words.

“You don’t look at me like that—with your heart in your eyes like I’m your fucking hero. I hurt you and I fuck you.

“I. Use. You.”

He moved his face so it was only inches away from hers. “You will not look at me like I’m your fucking savior—or the love of your goddamn life.” His lips twisted with distaste.

Caitlin couldn’t stop the tears that started leaking out of the corners of her eyes, and with her hands tied behind her back she had no way to brush them away. They ran down the sides of her nose, into the corners of her mouth and dripped off her chin.

Master sighed, and for the first time since their relationship began, she saw his eyes soften and he looked at her with something different.

Kindness?

Ivan stared at the frightened girl in front of him. She was twenty-five—definitely a woman, but to him she had always looked like a girl. Still did.

She was beautiful. Jesus, she was beautiful, so petite and fragile-looking. With her heart-shaped face, porcelain skin and those huge brown eyes fringed with impossibly long, sooty lashes. Her full lips rosy, even with her face scrubbed clean of makeup, and that fall of thick, lustrous chocolate-brown hair that tumbled down to the middle of her back. She looked like a doll. An exquisitely formed, perfect china doll.

He had always watched her so carefully during their sessions, attuned to everything she was thinking and feeling. He asked her questions, sure. But they were all about how much she was hurting, how afraid she was, how much she wanted to come. He never asked about other emotions—the ones he had no interest in. As though, if he didn’t care about her deeper feelings, they didn’t exist.

Stupid, arrogant fool.

Maybe if he’d actually spent some time observing her afterward he would have figured it out. But every time, immediately after it was all over, she would end up on her stomach on the bed while he rubbed lotion into her welts to help stop inflammation and scarring. Not because he was a nice, caring sort of a guy. No, definitely not that. He looked after everything he owned with extreme care. Just as he cleaned and maintained his whips and other toys, he looked after her.

Maintenance—that’s all it was.

And when he was done, he sent her away.

Today when they had finished, he caught her looking at him. She had been trained to keep her eyes down, but before she could look away, he saw it. That look of pure adoration and something else. He couldn’t be sure since no one had ever looked at him that way, but could it be—love? God, that word that left a bad taste in his mouth.

It fucking terrified him.

“Caitlin,” he said quietly. A beautiful name but he hadn’t called her that in a long, long time. He had other names for her, ones that weren’t even remotely beautiful.

She stared up at him with those huge, innocent eyes of hers. Jesus, how could she still look so innocent after all the things he’d done to her? He’d come to terms with himself and what he was a long time ago. But when she looked at him like the naïve girl she’d been when she’d first came to him…he hated her. Hated her for making him feel something, for making him despise himself. And that made him want to hurt her even more.

God, he had to get her away from him.

“Caitlin, you deserve more than this. You’re a young woman, and compared to you, I’m an old man.” He could see she disagreed with him but she dared not argue.

“I’m fifty-six. You should have a chance to find a husband you can look at with your adoring eyes. A man who will go to sleep with you in your bed every night and wake up with you in the morning. A man who will take you out, show you the world. You should have babies—lots of babies. A family. A dog. A goddamn white picket fence if you want it.”

He took a deep breath. “I want you to leave.” His voice cracked. Jesus, saying it was more difficult than he’d thought.

“Should I…come back tomorrow?” she asked in a small voice.

She wasn’t getting it. “No, little girl. I don’t want you anymore. It’s over. We’re done.”

Her mouth opened in shock and she let out a sob, a high-pitched burst of air.

She looked like a puppy that had been kicked too many times.

God, that look drove him crazy.

He could take it back. Tell her he was just messing with her. He could get out the cane and beat her for having feelings for him, for looking at him when she wasn’t supposed to. He could make some shit up—anything. He could punish her. He could punish her mercilessly and she would take it.

And then he would free his rock-hard cock from his pants and feed it into her beautiful, hot, wet, waiting mouth. He could look down and see those perfect rosy lips wrapped around him as she licked and suckled greedily. Wordlessly begging his forgiveness with her mouth and tongue. And then he would grab her by the hair, tip her head back and drive into her, over and over, harder and deeper, until tears streamed down her face, until she gasped for air, until she choked, until she sobbed, until she cried.

And she swallowed everything he gave her.

Fuck, he would never get enough of her. And if he wasn’t very careful, he would end up fucking enslaved to her. And wasn’t that an interesting question? Who was enslaved to whom? He didn’t want to examine that too closely; afraid he might not like the answer.

He pulled her to her feet and untied the bindings from her wrists. He turned her gently and stroked her face, cupped her cheek in his palm.

When was the last time he’d done that? Maybe the first day she came to him, so lost, alone and confused. Yes, he was kind to her that day, but never since then.

She was sobbing now, uncontrollably. It was obvious just how out of control she was, since she actually grabbed his hand and held it against her cheek. Under normal circumstances, such unheard of behavior would have resulted in a reprimand—No touching, you greedy little slut. No touching without my permission—along with a deliciously creative punishment. But oh, her skin, her perfect tear-streaked skin, was so soft and smooth. It was the last time he would touch her like this. His chest felt tight.

Suddenly he wanted to take her in his arms and comfort her, his poor little girl. Hold her naked, trembling body in his lap as if she were a child, stroking her hair, brushing away her tears. Murmuring in her ear, telling her that everything would be all right.

She continually threatened to break his control. If he let her, she would smash it until it was lying shattered around his feet like jagged shards of broken glass. And what would happen to him then?

He used his Dom voice. The voice he used only with her. Always with her. “Turn around. Pick up your clothes. Leave. Now.”

And good girl that she was, she did exactly what she was told. But she turned back just before she closed the door and looked at him. It was as if all the light had been extinguished from her gorgeous, expressive eyes. Christ, she looked—broken. After everything that had happened to her, after all the pain and misery he had inflicted, finally he had broken her.

And for some reason, it was nothing he could savor.

Ivan walked over to the bed on shaky legs, suddenly feeling weak. The tight feeling in his chest was like a fist squeezing his heart. He sat down heavily on the edge of the bed. Right where she’d been not long ago, facedown, ass up in the air, hands tied behind her as he fucked her—hard—until he came like a fucking freight train. And she didn’t.

God, how long had it been since he let her come? Three weeks? Four? Yes, four weeks.

He loved keeping her like that, squirming and desperate. Teasing her, bringing her to the brink and denying her—over and over and over. And she, his strong, brave girl, would beg. That was the one thing she would beg for. Beg and cry for his permission to come.

And he wouldn’t let her.

It was a beautiful thing.

Love to read the rest of Hurt Me, Heal Me? Purchase it on Amazon at the following links!

Amazon US:

http://www.amazon.com/Hurt-Me-Heal-Dantes-Purgatory-ebook/dp/B00MFQ6I62

Amazon Ca:

http://www.amazon.ca/Hurt-Me-Heal-Dantes-Purgatory-ebook/dp/B00MFQ6I62

Amazon UK:

http://www.amazon.co.uk/Hurt-Me-Heal-Dantes-Purgatory-ebook/dp/B00MFQ6I62

Barnes & Noble:

http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/hurt-me-heal-me-sayara-st-clair/1120066369?ean=9781419949258

All Romance ebooks:

https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-hurtmehealme-1587674-340.htm

Ellora’s Cave:

http://www.ellorascave.com/hurt-me-heal-me.html

Image courtesy of Sayara St Clair
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January 28, 2015
Sexy Reads – Heat Wave for Five

Karen and Mike had their first group sex experience last week, and when three of their friends come over for a dinner party, Karen quickly realizes she wants it all to happen again tonight. So she devises a plan, and pretty soon she’s twerking tongues with Cassandra. When everyone else doesn’t immediately join in, Karen decides it’s time for a game.

Excerpt

I could tell she was thinking about it.

The two of us—Cassandra and I—made our way into the living room while everyone else put their dishes away and refilled their wine glasses. She sat down right next to me on our couch.

She lowered her voice. “So, um, not to be weird, but is the offer, like, actually on the table?”

I didn’t respond. It was from me. I just didn’t want to speak for everyone else.

“I mean, it seemed like it, but no one came out and said, like, ‘let’s do it I want to do it.’ You know?”

Was it possible she really wanted to? It sure sounded like it.

I didn’t think. I just acted.

I kissed her on the lips. Hers were soft and sweet. I could taste the wine on her lips.

At first they didn’t open. They pursed and retreated, though not quite enough to lose contact. But I could feel her start to think. There was a moment where she stopped completely and asked herself if she really wanted to do this.

And then she gave in.

When her tongue enmeshed with mine, they danced intensely. I mean, they were twerking. Our tongues twerked inside each other’s mouths. I could feel the strength of her desire, the heat of her longing. It was like she was being unleashed.

I don’t know how long we made out. It could have been ten seconds; it could have been ten minutes.

“Ho-lee shit.” The voice behind us finally brought us to a stop.

It was Mike. He turned over his left shoulder.

“Hey Dani! Kyle! Cassandra and my girlfriend were just making out.”

“What? No way!” Both of them spoke at once. I heard a clatter of feet, and then two excited faces appeared next to Mike’s.

“Do it again!” Mike said.

“Guys, we’re not just going to—“

But before I could finish my sentence, Cassandra’s lips covered mine.

I could hear the crowd behind us cheer as our tongues once again interlocked. Now our hands joined the frenzy. She explored the flat of my back, my shoulder blades, and my rib cage. Then her hands found the curves of my ass. They squeezed my cheeks, and my muscles clenched in response. I heard her release a moan.

Okay, time for me to get involved.

I wanted to feel her breasts underneath my hands. I snaked my hands under her shirt and moved them up her ribs and stomach until I felt the bottom underwire of her bra. My fingers slid underneath her bra and clawed their way toward her nipples.

She moved her mouth to my neck as I did this, sucking and biting at my neck. I could hear Mike muttering “holy shit…” behind me as he noticed my hands groping her relentlessly.

Her mouth took a break from my skin. “Like what you see, guys?” Cassandra said.

“I think they do,” I whispered in her ear. She quieted me with her lips, and we resumed our aggressive make out session.

I knew where this was going. I reached for the bottom of her shirt, grasped the stitching, and began to pull the shirt up and over her head.

“Whoa, whoa, hold on,” said Cassandra.

I was crestfallen. I thought we were just about to experience a mind-blowing orgy. I was getting all wrapped up in the anticipation, the excitement of what was about to come…

“Did everyone like where that was headed?” asked Cassandra.

I swiveled my head back to our audience. They nodded dumbly, giggling.

“Then let’s have some fun with this,” Cassandra said, pulling her shirt back down. “Let’s play a game.

“Who wants to fill up my wine glass?”

Want to read the rest of Heat Wave for Five? Purchase it on Amazon at:

http://www.amazon.com/Heat-Wave-Five-Friends-Group-ebook/dp/B00OYN6MXS/ref=sr_1_17?ie=UTF8&qid=1418321132&sr=8-17&keywords=Piper+Lee+Webb&pebp=1418321132548

Image courtesy of Piper Lee Webb
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January 21, 2015
Sexy Reads – Underneath the Gargoyle
Underneath the Gargoyle: A Prologue

What really happened between Kyle’s parents? A PROLOGUE explores the kinky back story which occurs about 18 years prior to the beginning of Christina Harding’s UNDERNEATH THE GARGOYLE series.

Excerpt

Marissa stares up at the gargoyles at the top of the church and frowns. She fumbles with her polaroid camera, frames one of the gargoyles in the viewfinder using the zoom function to get a close-up, and snaps a picture, her fingers going numb in the frigid cold air. I wish I had my textbook on gothic churches with me, Marissa thinks as she stands in front of the church, waving the polaroid and waiting for it to develop. Her eyes widen with excitement as she remembers she did, in fact, bring the text.

Still waiting for the photo to develop, Marissa sits down on the steps of the church, despite the fact that they have iced over, and flips through the pages until she finds what she’s looking for. There is an entire chapter devoted to this church with detailed photographs of its features, including the gargoyles. She finds a photo of her gargoyle, the one who looks like a dragon. He is sitting in a crouching position, as usual, and he is baring his teeth as if he’s about to exhale a ferocious flame of fire.

The polaroid of this same gargoyle is starting to come into focus, but his teeth aren’t bared. He’s crouching, but he’s staring almost peacefully off into the distance. Her heart racing, Marissa slips the photo into the text as a bookmark, and stands up to get another look at the gargoyle.

His teeth are bared again like in the textbook, but not like the polaroid she took just moments ago. What the heck? Marissa thinks. Trembling, she looks down at her polaroid again. How could this be possible? The gargoyle must have moved while I was flipping through my textbook! she thinks. She takes another photo of the dragon-like gargoyle, now baring his teeth, and then sets off, hustling to the university with a skip in her step.

“Professor John!” Marissa calls out to her thesis advisor, knocking on the door to his office. He opens the door.

“Marissa!” he says, sounding surprised. “Come on in!” he opens the door wide, and Marissa slips through. His office is warm and welcoming with a fire sparkling in the fireplace.

“I have found some solid evidence to support my theory of cryptozoology.” she announces, excited and still breathless from running.

Professor John closes the door to his office and sits down at his desk, waving for her to sit down too. “What have you found?” He sounds eager.

“The gargoyle on top of the church,” she pulls out her two photographs, “I caught him moving today.” Marissa hands her photos to the Professor.

He adjusts his reading glasses and gives the polaroids a long look. “When did you take these pictures?”

“Maybe fifteen minutes ago. I came straight here. I took the photos only about a minute or two apart,” Marissa rushes to explain.

“You realize the implications of this are huge?” Professor John says, placing the pictures on his desk. “This could be a major breakthrough in the study of cryptozoology.” Marissa’s heart swells with excitement, but the professor continues, “You know, not everyone is going to believe the authenticity of these photos. To date, every picture of a cryptid has been debunked. How are you going to prove that your photos are genuine and that they were taken only within minutes of each other? Who’s to say they weren’t taken years apart and that the gargoyle was not modified?”

Marissa finds herself flushing; she was not expecting such a skeptical reaction. Stammering for a response, she asks, “Do you believe me?”

“I think, a girl such as yourself, should not sully her hands in such matters.”

Shocked, Marissa is speechless.

Noticing her vulnerability, Professor John continues, “It must have been hard to get here so quickly.” He looks pointedly at Marissa’s stretching belly. “When are you due?”

Marissa rubs her growing bump, finding her voice again, “In thirty-five days.”

“As it seems, a child out of wedlock will cast shadow on your moral integrity. You are going to need someone to support your claim, someone with credibility.”

“As my thesis advisor, can’t you…?” Marissa begins to ask.

“Oh yes, that would seem like the obvious choice, wouldn’t it?” Rising from his seat, Professor John rounds his desk and approaches Marissa, “That would require extra effort on my part. And so, I would expect extra from you in return.”

Hoping she’s hearing him correctly, Marissa eagerly responds, “Oh thank you, Professor! I would be happy to do whatever it takes!”

Professor John reaches up and brushes the hair on the side of her cheek. “I was hoping you would say that.” His hand traces down her neck and starts circling her breast.

Marissa tries to back up, but has nowhere to go. She tries to protest, “I love Matthew Cohen.”

“Even though he won’t marry you? He has left you for any man to take.” Professor John reaches up with his other hand and starts caressing both of her breasts.

“Matthew’s status with the church requires certain obligations.” Marissa futilely explains. She tries to squirm away from the Professor.

“None of this. Lay down on my desk now,” the Professor commands.

“No, and get your hands off me!” Marissa insists. She stands up and attempts to brush by the Professor, but he blocks her way.

“If you’re not going to play nicely, I can just get rid of your evidence,” the professor says, grabbing the polaroids off of his desk and holding them over the fire.

“No! Don’t!!” Marissa exclaims, lying down on the desk. “Please….”

“I knew you would come around.” Much to her surprise, the Professor grabs the elastic waist band of her maternity clothes and pulls them down exposing her to the office. Marissa tries to clench her legs together in a last attempt for modesty, but even as she does so, she feels her pussy start to tingle with expectancy.

The Professor pries her legs open and props them on his shoulders, one on each. Marissa feels the heat of the fire directly on her most private space as it starts to drip. Out of obligation, Marissa cries out, “Please don’t. I love Matthew!” even though her body is yearning for more.

Ignoring her pleas, the Professor zips down his fly and pulls out his swollen cock through the front of his boxers. Even though the skin around his potbelly is loose with middle age, his rod is still firm and hard, ready to enter this flesh which is thirty years younger than himself. Professor John caresses Marissa’s youthful labia with the head of his dick, following the folds around her cunt. Marissa tingles as a rush of blood to her pussy makes her fully engorged. She moans.

The professor is still fully dressed in his suit, his pants hiked up around his waist. Just his pink, swollen dick is unveiled, poking out of his boxers from a mass of curly pubic hair. Meanwhile, Marissa is completely exposed from the waist down, and her shirt is starting to ride up over her swollen belly.

Smearing his pre-cum across her labia, the Professor observes, “I wonder how much you really love him. You seem to be enjoying yourself quite a bit.” He poises the tip of his cock right at the opening of her throbbing hole, entering her with just the head, wavering on the brink of her crevice.

“Oh please…” Marissa starts whimpering. But as she says it, she realizes she’s not asking him to stop, but actually begging for more.

“Now tell me, what are you planning on naming your child?”

Marissa tries to focus, “If it’s a boy, we want to name him Kyle.”

The Professor enters her completely. Marissa’s vagina seizes with surprise, but releases with pleasure. She feels a gush of wet escape her pussy. “Kyle is a solid name,” the Professor tells her.

He draws slowly out of her, but then thrusts in again, quickly. Marissa shouts, “Oh, Professor John!” Her body shakes with pleasure, droplets of sweat forming on her pregnant belly.

Her baby has increased the pressure inside of her, making her tighter than she was as a virgin. Her toes curl as she revels in the exquisite sensation. She’s more sensitive than she’s ever been before. Maybe it’s the change in my hormones? she asks herself. Marissa can feel Professor John’s every movement as his aged, but rigid, cock rocks inside of her. “You are so tight,” he moans.

The Professor cups his hands around her belly and feels her baby kick. “Your child knows you aren’t being faithful to its father.”

Marissa feels the baby kick too, and tingling excitement ripples across her abdomen. She looks up at the professor and sees his face contort in pleasure, his bifocals sitting askew.

The professor reaches down and starts stroking Marissa’s clit. Her legs twitch involuntarily, and her body shudders. Marissa grabs the edge of the desk and pulls herself towards her superior so that he can drive more deeply into her. The Professor grabs around Marissa’s legs with his free hands and bucks harder into his student.

All of a sudden Marissa, feels her orgasm coming. “I’m almost there!” She rolls her head back, “Don’t stop!!” The professor obliges, continuing to pump into her and rubbing furiously on her clit.

Marissa and Professor John reach climax at the same moment. She twists and contorts as the pain of a contraction mixed with the releasing pleasure of an orgasm emanates across her body. John clutches her legs to his chest as he shoots deep within her expectant body. He lets out a grunt of pleasure.

There is a knock at the door.

Abruptly both teacher and student are both brought back to the present. Before they have a chance to respond, the door opens and they hear, “Is everything okay Professor?” Then a head pokes through the door.

It is Matthew.

His eyes go round as he takes in the scene in front of him.

Marissa stumbles up as best as she can with her baby bump. “Matthew, this is not what it looks like!”

Matthew’s face gets dark. “I saw he was inside of you. I know what happened here; there’s no need to say anymore.”

“No, Matthew!” Marissa insists, but Matthew has snapped the door shut. Tears start to stream down her face.

“Like I said, he’s left you available for anyone to take. And, there’s no need to lie; we both know you enjoyed it,” the Professor tells her, zipping up his pants. He casually picks up her polaroids on his way out of the office and tosses them into the fire. “Also, the cryptozoology of the gargoyles – that needs to remain a secret.”

If you liked Christina Harding’s free story, then you may enjoy the rest of her UNDERNEATH THE GARGOYLE series as well. A PROLOGUE is also available for FREE download from Smashwords.

Christina Harding is a pseudonym. She is a guest blogger for Romance at Random of Random House and the author of Underneath the Gargoyle, a paranormal erotic series. She also blogs at www.christinahardingerotica.blogspot.com and tweets @tinaerotica. Christina is happily married and enjoys reading sexy stories with her husband.

Purchase Underneath The Gargoyle: A Prologue at
- https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/505248
- http://christinahardingerotica.blogspot.com/2014/12/free-story-underneath-gargoyle-prologue.html
Image courtesy of Christina Harding
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January 14, 2015
Sexy Reads – Predator’s Fire, Gemini Island Shifters 5

Tagline:

In her world, he shouldn’t exist. In his world, she’s about to become an endangered species.

Blurb:

When Nina Suzuki discovers the body of her best friend Janine, her world turns upside down. Things go from bad to worse when Janine’s corpse seems to transform into that of a large, brown wolf. For the first time, Nina is faced to confront all the clues indicating her BFF was not what she seemed. A letter from the dead woman opens Nina’s eyes to a strange, new world. The same letter warns of a sinister group called the Alpha Brethren, and urges her to find Killian Moon of the Ursa Fishing Lodge and Resort on Gemini Island.

Killian Moon is a jaguar shifter and teen mentor at the Ursa Lodge in Northern Ontario. He may be a comfort and inspiration to confused teen shifters, but he also has a fiery past. His past comes back to haunt him when human Nina arrives at the resort, demanding to speak with him. Demanding answers. Can he trust her with knowledge that will not only change her life, but possibly endanger those around him?

As Killian begrudgingly tutors Nina on all things shifter, their mutual curiosity flares into passionate need. Once they touch, once they succumb to desire, there is no going back. Killian realizes Nina is his mate and they both begin to comprehend the terror threatening those on their shifter-friendly island. He is forced to confront the tragedy in his family and determines to protect Nina at all costs.

But can they protect everyone they love from a cult of dangerous shifters, intent on horror and destruction?

Excerpt:

“How much longer do I have to wait? I want to see Killian Moon. Now.”

The feminine voice, strangely soft despite its insistence, echoed deep in his being, awakening his jaguar. The great cat roared to life, turned toward the office and inhaled deeply. Its eyes flashed in interest.

In…recognition?

Killian breathed in at the same time, catching the scent of cherry blossoms through the door. The sweet perfume, mixed with human outrage, proved a heady distraction, making him forget why he was there. Shaking his head, he tried to dismiss the odd sensation as Ryland opened the door.

The door swung open and the first person he glimpsed was one of the clerks from reception, trying his hardest to placate the unexpected guest. “I’m sure Mr. Snow and Mr. Moon will be right back.”

And then his gaze landed on the petite human. Tapered Asian eyes, so dark and mysterious, but rimmed with circles of exhaustion. Smooth, cinnamon skin hinted at a mixed background. Wearing no makeup, she appeared younger than she must be, but her presence and keen eyes pegged her at around thirty years old. She had a riot of curly, black hair and feminine curves that ought to come with a warning. He could see it now. Beware: this woman’s body will cause insanity in men. Even as she gesticulated at the clerk, her boobs jiggled in such a way his throat went dry.

He pictured her in a corset, her breasts spilling over delicate lace edging, and almost forgot his name.

This Nina Suzuki was damn hot and his jaguar seemed to agree. The animal licked its lips, its golden gaze assessing and appreciating every detail, from her rounded hips to her come-hither rack.

Yes, the creature uttered on a frenzied breath.

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Image courtesy of Rosanna Leo
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January 7, 2015