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Tag: Book excerpt

  • Sexy Reads – Fearless

    Sexy Reads – Fearless

    Emmaline Hart has spent the last thirteen years putting everyone’s needs before her own.  When she accepts a job writing the memoir of one of the medical field’s preeminent cancer researchers, she becomes involved with his dangerously attractive son with a penchant for pushing her boundaries.  As the doctor’s story of secrets and cover-ups unravels, so does Emmaline’s view on everything she thought she knew about herself and the power of surrender.

    Excerpt

    “Do you want another glass of wine?” I ask abruptly, getting up from the chair swing.

    “Sure,” Beckett says steadily, unfolding his large frame from the chair and following me into the house.

    The sun has gone down while we were outside, and my kitchen is dark except for the pillar candles on the bar that I lit before dinner.  I don’t turn on a light as I uncork the bottle and refill both of our glasses.  I hand him his glass and take a healthy gulp from mine.

    “So um, what do you like to do when, you know, you’re being dominant?” I ask, my teeth biting my lower lip.

    Beckett pins me with his gaze.  “You had a taste of it last weekend when I told you to hold onto the headboard.  I didn’t restrain you with anything but my will, but you gave control to me.  Did you like it?”

    “Yes,” I whisper, looking down.

    “Trust me,” he says, his voice low.  “I will push your limits, but I will never push you past them.  And if you want to stop, you say your safe word and we stop.”

    I feel like I’ve been thrown into an alternate reality.  How else do I explain the fact that I’m having a conversation about safe words with a wickedly gorgeous man in my kitchen, much less that I’m actually considering doing things with him that would require a safe word.

    “Aren’t I supposed to have a list of the things I don’t want to do?” I ask a little desperately.

    “No.  Trust me, Emma.”

    Strangely, I do. I’ve never been with a man I trusted more.  There’s something about Beckett Black that makes me feel safe.  Maybe it’s because he’s a doctor, or maybe it’s his absolute confidence and control in any situation.  Whatever it is, I just know that I trust him, and some part of me desperately wants to embrace the unknown and explore this newfound sensuality I never even knew existed.  I want to take a chance, to throw caution to the wind and be what I’ve dreamed of being—fearless. I like the sound of it.  Fearless.  It’s going to be my motto. In that instant, I know what I want to do.   I want to say goodbye to timid Emma, the one who is full of doubts and insecurities.  I want to quiet Tim’s voice in the back of my mind complaining about me being a prude and uptight. I want to be fearless.

    “I trust you,” I say, slipping my hand into his.  His eyes warm with approval, and I’m surprised to realize that I know his body well enough to feel him almost imperceptibly relax.  I’m touched to realize how important to him my agreement had been, even though he’d been careful not to pressure me.  I take a shaky breath.

    “So, exactly how long have you been thinking about doing, um, things with me?” I ask.

    “You have no idea,” he says with a groan, burying his hands in my hair and ravishing my mouth with his.  He can bring me to my knees with a single kiss.  I grip his deliciously tight ass, grinding my pelvis against his hardness.

    I pull back slightly, my lips mere inches from his and whisper, “Tell me one thing.”

    “Be careful Emma,” he says warningly, his voice low and dangerous.   “Don’t ask questions unless you’re sure you’re ready to hear the answers.”

    “I want to know,” I insist, and I do, even though my heart is pounding.  I try to remember some of the things I read when I’d researched the subject.  “Have you ever wanted to spank me?”

    “More than once,” he growls.

    “Really?”  I say, surprised.  “When?” I am somehow fascinated.

    “Alright, Angel, we’ll play this out,” he says, his eyes glittering with desire.  “My palm definitely itched when you led me to believe I had just ordered wine for a recovering alcoholic, and when I told you to get into the shower and you instead tried to tell me what I was thinking, I wanted nothing more than to take you over my knee.  You goad me constantly.”

    I remember the looks he’d given me, and the way it had made me squirm.

    “What would you have done?” I egg him on, emboldened by the way he’s looking at me with an irresistible combination of desire and power.

    “This,” he says, unwrapping my arms from his waist.  He turns me so that my back is to him and gently propels me forward toward my kitchen table until the tops of my thighs meet the table’s edge. “Grab the sides of the table,” he orders.

    I do as he says, my heart pounding as my fingers grip the edges of the table, my nipples tightening with desire. With his hand on my back, he presses me forward until my aching breasts touch the tabletop and my cheek rests against its smooth surface. His left hand is splayed firmly over the middle of my back, holding me immobile.  He leans over me, his lips so close to my ear that I can feel his breath, warm and sensuous.

    “Don’t let go,” he warns, his voice quiet but unyielding.  His knee nudges my legs slightly apart and I can feel myself grow wetter.

    I close my eyes, bracing for the contact of his hand against my bottom.  Instead, his hand caresses the curve of my ass, and I can feel the warmth of his touch through my jeans.

    “Relax, Emmaline,” he whispers, his hand kneading my buttocks.  Just as I relax my muscles, he lands one hard smack against my right butt cheek.   I gasp.  Somehow, I hadn’t thought he would hit me hard enough for it to actually hurt!   He strokes my bottom again, alternately rubbing and squeezing each cheek, and I wiggle my butt slightly with anticipation.  He chuckles and lands another stinging blow onto my left cheek.  I grip the edge of the table tighter, grinding my pubic bone into the hard wood of the table.  Despite the mild pain, it’s both stimulating and erotic, and I am inexplicably but undeniably turned on. He lightly traces the crack of my ass with his finger and I fight to catch my breath.

    He brings his hand down in a resounding slap at the juncture of my thighs.  I moan as the sensations roll over me—the sensuous tingle he has unleashed across my behind, the feel of his hand on my back, firm but unyielding, precluding any escape, the unexpected clench of my sex at the glancing blow. I grind against the table, desperate for more.  But more of what?  More of his hand on my ass?  More of the strangely erotic feel of blows against my butt?  More of feeling vulnerable and at his mercy?  I don’t have any answers.  All I know is that I want, I need, some sort of release from the sensation and yearning that is building inside me.

    “Let go,” Beckett commands harshly, releasing his hold on me, and I let go of the table and stand up slowly.  He turns me around and lifts me so I am sitting on the table facing him, my legs spread slightly so that he can stand between them.

    “That was just a preview, Angel,” he says, his raspy voice uncompromising.  “Next time I do that, it will be on my terms, not yours, and your ass will be bare and over my lap.”

    Can’t wait to find out what happens next?  Purchase Fearless at the following links:

    Image courtesy of Brynley Bush

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  • Sexy Reads – My Life on the Swingset

    Sexy Reads – My Life on the Swingset

    Starting with a first date with a couple of swingers, followed by working through social anxiety and shyness, recognizing the importance of touch in life, evolving feelings about love and expectations, having threesomes, orgies, and prostate orgasms, going through a divorce, and leveling up in life and sexuality. For five years, Cooper S. Beckett has written for Life on the Swingset, here he has collected personal essays, stories, erotica, and prescriptive “how-tos” into this memoir of his life on The Swingset. He speaks honestly and earnestly about a unique way to live life, one that allows for sexual and loving growth and experimentation, a strong sense of community, and the ability to do what we all crave whether we know it or not: Be honest with ourselves and others about what we want sexually, and out of life.

    Excerpt

    Sex is Sex is Sex
    With or Without Penetration

    Somehow, I managed to achieve that elusive disconnect between the traditional notion of sex (i.e. me putting my penis into things other than mouths) and the word “sex.” Dan Savage recently said that if there was one thing the heterosexual world could learn from the homosexuals, it’s that sex is any form of sexual congress. This concept ensures that we’re not simply stampeding to the perceived goal line, and don’t feel we haven’t achieved something if there isn’t penetrative penis-in-vagina sex.

    I felt that way for a long time.

    Recently I wrote about a party where I consciously tried to change this concept. I made myself aware of my pattern, which would be to try to blow my way through interactions to get to the sexual finale in order to be able to play with as many of my friends as possible in a short amount of time. It never had anything to do with not respecting the time I spent with each of them, I loved all of it. I care deeply about those women whom I manage to spend quality sexy time with at parties, and since many of them I only see at parties, it makes it all the more important that I find the time.

    This line of thought was detrimental, however, because it caused me to put a tremendous amount of pressure on myself, perform giving oral, perform receiving oral (but don’t fucking come!), and then perform sexually all the way to the goal line. Often by the second tryst of the evening I was already beginning to struggle. Beyond that, all involved were lucky to get half-mast.

    This, as an aside, is what caused me to go from pretty good at digital stimulation to exceptional. I know that sounds braggy, but there are few things I am good enough at to brag with such confidence, as fingering. And, I can provide references if needed.

    So, why did I do this?

    If I was shortchanging myself by not being able to relax and enjoy things, and if I was shortchanging my partners, what was it? It just made sense to me, because that’s what you do as a full swap swinger, right? You swap and fuck. Rinse, repeat. Was that an ookier colloquialism than I intended?

    Hmm. It’s because I’d convinced myself that this was what was expected of me. When I start something (say, putting my hand down there and feeling her response) I ought to see it through, right? Right?!

    Then I began to recognize that these notions I had about swinging at the beginning (most told to me by my “swinging sire” about whom the less said, the better) were, perhaps, incorrect…or at least misleading.

    Early on, I painstakingly shaved every inch of my genitals because I was told that this was how things were done. That no one would play with me if I wasn’t immaculately groomed. That if I wanted it licked, it should be bare. I shaved daily, despite my skin clearly having a problem with this type of attention. It took my doctor asking me why on Earth I keep shaving when my body clearly doesn’t want me to for me to wonder about the logic of what I was doing.

    So I stopped shaving, and nobody cared. Nobody who mattered, anyway. In my attempts to live up to the “swinger standard” that was sent down from on high, I didn’t see what was right in front of me. Rules only have value if you, and those around you, feel they have value. It amuses me (and horrifies in equal part) that a group of people such as we swingers, so hell bent on ignoring that which we “should” be doing (i.e. being monogamous, sticking with one gender or another) could get so caught up in other “shoulds.” You should always come, you should always get it up, you should always reciprocate, you should always fuck. Why the hell would these ideals always line up?

    Well, the short answer is that they don’t. And that we’re often sheep. We reject one dogma to follow another and get swept away. In the past, I’ve also felt somehow shortchanged if events didn’t progress, if I “only” got a hand job. I stop and think about how amazing and disgraceful a thought that is, and how my 16 year old self would conspire to have me shot if he knew I’d even considered that thought. I was jaded, and had a bad case of “the shoulds.”

    But perhaps I’ve achieved enlightenment. Things certainly feel different. I’m currently flying the final leg of my trip back to Chicago from a week in paradise at Desire Resort & Spa, the first Life on the Swingset trip to Desire. At the resort I decided to no longer focus on penetrative (penis-in-vagina) sex. It was like a weight had been lifted. The removal of expectations about what things would become allowed us to concentrate instead on what things are.

    To live in the moment, for a change.

    I focused on whether I was giving or receiving pleasure. I could make out for a while with someone. I could perform oral on others. I could allow an urge to simply do one single thing with someone be paramount. And just as when I stopped shaving, nobody pitched a fit and banished me. In fact, everybody I was lucky enough to encounter seemed to be as excited about what was going on in the moment as I was. Never was there a “We’re not going to fuck?” or “Why aren’t you hard?”

    I realized that I’m far more interested in the pleasure of others than myself. I spent the week giving pleasure to those open to receive it; orally, digitally, nJoy Elevenally.

    “Cooper, you braggart,” you say, “you think you’re better than me?”

    Not at all, random voice guy who interrupts my essays sometimes. I receive as well. I had some truly spectacular moments of orgasmic bliss. But because I was not focused on when we would complete the transaction and I would insert my penis into her (or his, I’m equal opportunity) nether regions, I was able to see every bit of sexual interaction as the glorious experience it truly is. Nothing makes people want to please you more than putting yourself out as a giver of pleasure.

    And isn’t that a wonderful way to live?

    So, mark the date and time. My last party was not an isolated incident of emotional evolution on my part. That was just proof of concept. Desire represented physical, emotional, and (dare I say) spiritual growth within me.

    My heart is full of joy.

    Find out more and purchase My Life on the Swingset at:

    Informational page for book, and purchase from the author: http://my.lifeontheswingset.com

    Purchase in paperback: https://www.createspace.com/5055218

    Purchase on Kindle: http://www.amazon.com/My-Life-Swingset-Adventures-Polyamory-ebook/dp/B00R07TZQ6/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1422488473&sr=8-1&keywords=my+life+on+the+swingset

    Image courtesy of Cooper Beckett

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  • Sexy Reads – Two Week Seduction

    Sexy Reads – Two Week Seduction

    She’s going to break all of his rules…

    Tech Sergeant John O’Donnell was never fond of his hometown. Too many reminders of poverty, his rocky family life, and the girl he was never allowed to have. Now he has exactly two weeks to sort out his mother’s finances before he heads back overseas. Two weeks that he’s determined to spend as far from his best friend’s little sister as possible.

    Alea Heling has a naughty streak a mile wide. Sweet and simple? Boring. She’s been craving a bad boy like John since their wild days together in high school, and this time, she’s not taking no for an answer. But with every panty-meltingly hot encounter, Alea forgets one hard, cold reality—this soldier won’t let a fortnight turn into forever…and forever might be exactly what they both need.

    Excerpt

    “Thank you for your help,” he said. His voice was rusty, but clear enough.

    She gasped in mock shock. “He speaks! Five words and it wasn’t rude!”

    Against his will, his lips twitched. She always could make him smile when he least wanted to.

    She leaned forward, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. “Let’s try something else. I know it’s dangerous—I mean, your head might explode or something—but I say we risk it. Give me a compliment.”

    “Fishing?” he drawled.

    She tsked. “That wasn’t a compliment. You’re supposed to say something nice. About me.”

    He didn’t answer. Mostly because he was thinking of all the things he wanted to say. That her skin looked soft and her eyes were a changeable hazel that always kept him guessing. That her tits were round and full, just begging to be nipped. That she was small compared to his 6’3″ frame, but she had legs long enough to wrap around his waist as he buried himself inside her. And that red hair, a bright red flash of color on her perfect body, was a scream of danger he lusted after.

    While those thoughts spun through his mind, her expression soured. With a sigh, she grabbed his empty beer bottle and held it before his eyes. “Say something nice to me and I’ll get you another beer.”

    She shook the bottle a little to grab his attention. It didn’t work. He was too busy watching how the breeze pressed her blouse flat against her chest. Her bra had lace, which meant texture, and he wondered what sound she’d make if he tugged it back and forth against her nipples.

    “John–-”

    “That’s a nice b-blouse.” Damn it, he’d almost said bra.

    Her mouth flattened with a sigh. “I thought you’d like it.”

    Alea leaned forward as she pushed to her feet. A curl of brown hair tumbled forward, pushing past the tiny gold hoop in her ear to dangle right before him. Without thinking, he grabbed the lock, winding it around his fingers. It wasn’t even long enough to pull into his fist. But it was close enough to hold her still. Her eyes widened in surprise and her mouth—those plump, pink lips—formed a perfect O.

    God, he’d been gone so long. And she was so much of a woman now.

    “John?”

    He wanted to say something, but he hadn’t the words. Just a thick want. He took a breath, trying to clear his head, but all he tasted on the air was her. A citrus scent, so appropriate to Florida and so missed when he was in Afghanistan. But there was another scent on top. The taste of woman, hot and spicy despite her demure yellow shirt.

    He should let her go, but his fingers just wouldn’t cooperate. He tightened his hold. And when her hair started to slip through his grip, he pushed forward in his chair. He deserved one taste. He sacrificed so his country would be safe. One kiss was nothing when stacked up against that.

    But if he was going to take her mouth—and he damn sure was—then he was going to take something else too…

    Loved what you read? Get the book at the following links today!

    AMAZON KINDLE US – http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00KUYCEZK/?tag=jadeleeauthor-20

    AMAZON KINDLE CA – http://www.amazon.ca/dp/B00KUYCEZK/?tag= kathylyons-20

    AMAZON KINDLE UK – http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B00KUYCEZK/?tag=kathylyons-21

    BARNES & NOBLES NOOK – http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/two-week-seduction-kathy- lyons/1119702448?ean=9781622666416

    GOODREADS – https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/22466760-two-week-seduction

    SHELFARI – http://www.shelfari.com/books/37707680/Two-Week-Seduction – (Entangled-Brazen)

    Image courtesy of Jade Lee

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  • Sexy Reads – Sin Cafe

    Sexy Reads – Sin Cafe

    Sin Café is a place where you can go to live out your deepest fantasies and desires, where no one knows or cares what your name is, or what you do.  Where the world outside stops and the escape from reality begins.

    Excerpt

    The business card haunted her every time she opened her bag, today she intended to investigate Sin Café further.

    She searched through her local directory for ‘Sin Café’ and found nothing. She scoured the Internet, and still drew a blank. A novel, written in the 70’s, was the only item with the same name that appeared upon her screen.

    Knowing roughly where the street was to her home, Lucy decided to explore in person. Unsure of what she would find when eventually she came across the place, Lucy pondered her outfit.

    Going by the name on the card, and the events that may have brought about it being placed upon her car screen, she opted for smart, yet comfortable, casual, with a hint of sexy lingerie. To keep in tone with her mood, Lucy dressed in a dark blue denim dress, out of character with what she had on underneath.

    The contrast of clothing excited her; perhaps it even summed her up, plain on the outside but inside a roaring passion waiting to escape.

    Not that anyone would see them, but it made me feel good.

    Lucy admired her image in the full-length mirror. The suspender belt pinched slightly.

    ‘I need to work out a bit. Lose a pound or two.’

    She ran her hands over her body and fondled the lace, but stopped. She didn’t want to start anything she would have to finish; besides, she didn’t know what sort of place Sin Café could be; who knows what she would find.

    Excitement mounted as she collected her bag. She took a deep breath as she unlocked her car.

    She arrived at the outskirts of town, dock area, the old part of town, once the home of the only brothel in town; Sadie’s. It had been closed for some three years now. According to the local paper, moral campaigners with their protests finally got their own way, that and the growing surge in Internet escort agencies finally killed off Sadie’s.

    Lucy stopped the car, got out and looked at the map. Yes, this is where she thought Cobolt St. should be, and sure enough, just ahead, she saw a small sign with the street name, pointing into a narrow alley. The area was quiet, with only a couple of dock workers seated on a packing case a few yards ahead ; cautiously, Lucy walked down the alley.

    The doors appeared locked, or boarded up. There was no signs and nothing indicated whether they were open for business, or even what their businesses might be; it was a strange place. It was also a dead-end. Lucy could see no sign for Sin Café, and she felt she had bene led up the proverbial garden path or dirty alley in this case.

    ‘Now I’m really pissed off. Someone played me a fool. What the heck was I expecting?’

    She turned to go back to the car, but as she did, a young woman passed by her. Lucy watched her go to almost the end of the alley, stop, stoop down under a canopy and vanish.

    Lucy hurried after her. She approached the place where the girl had vanished, and she saw for herself, written in small print on the canopy; Sin Café. She stooped down under the canopy and began walking down a set of metal steps, her low heel shoes clanking and echoing as she descended. She reached the bottom and taking a deep breath, with her hand shaking on the handle, she opened the door.

    Inside, four men and three women sat drinking and chatting, their eyes fixed on Lucy; it felt to her as if each one of them mentally undressed her, even the women. She approached the counter. A good-looking Latina girl stood behind the large walnut colored counter. She looked from the book she was reading straight at Lucy. Her vivid green eyes focused on Lucy and she smiled.

    “Coffee?”

    She spoke just the one word and poured as Lucy nodded her head. The black coffee steamed in the cup and Lucy took it from her. She usually added milk but this was not the occasion for such familiar habits.

    Lucy looked around for a place to sit and made her way to the back of the room. The conversation in the café returned to a low hum, as she picked up the boiling coffee cup and raised it to her lips to sip.

    The Latina girl approached her; she wore a low-cut blouse and split skirt, the flesh of her thighs briefly exposed. She sported a great tan as she stood next to Lucy’s table and offered a menu.

    “I’m not hungry thank you.”

    “Who said anything about eating?” the Latina smiled.

    Lucy opened the menu; inside the plain black laminated cover was a picture of two women sucking two men’s cocks. Somewhat surprised, she self-consciously glanced around the room. The girl at the reception desk winked at her, but the others were intent upon each other, and Lucy realized they were not fussed by her presence. Intrigued, she turned the page, and another set of pictures opened. This time, it showed a woman being fucked by three men, one had his cock in her anus and the other had their cocks in the women’s pussy in a double penetration shot. Lucy’s cheeks flushed. She could not believe she was in a public place, looking at such things. This was one of the most daring things she had ever done. Lucy turned another page.

    It showed a guy dressed only in a white loin cloth. Towering over him was a tall blonde woman clad in thigh high leather boots and leather corset. In her hand she held a large whip. She peered down on the subjugated man as he licked her boots. In another picture the same man was prostrate over a chair, as the tall female Mistress fucked him with a large black strap-on.

    There were other images, mostly of naked men and women in orgies and groups. Lucy stopped turning the pages and placed the menu back on the table.

    Lucy stopped turning the pages and placed the menu back on the table.

    The Latina returned. “What would you like?” Lucy stood awkwardly. “Nothing… thank you.”

    But Lucy couldn’t deny the excitement or the dampness between her legs. Lucy was frustrated, that was true, but she couldn’t be as crude as this, could she? Ordering sex off a menu?

    “Please yourself, but ask yourself why did you come here?” the Latina questioned her before she turned away.

    “Can I look at it one more time?”

    The Latina gave the menu back to Lucy and smiled. “How about an appetizer?”

    The Latina leaned forward exposing her large breasts and a little pert nipple. “Pardon?” Lucy asked for clarification.

    “A starter if you like?”

    The Latina motioned to one of the men to come over. A tall guy, blonde haired, probably late twenties early thirties, reasonably well-built, wearing an open neck check shirt, black denim jeans, and black shiny boots reminiscent of some western cowboy without the spurs, sauntered over to the two women; the Latina girl stroked the man’s arm playfully and pushed him gently towards Lucy.

    “This is Fletcher; he will be your starter…”

    Lucy looked a little confused as the man stood in front of them both. Without ceremony, the Latina girl dropped to her knees and began to unzip his pants.

    “Okay, I will show you.”

    She grabbed hold of Fletcher’s jeans and pushed her hand inside; he wasn’t wearing any Calvin’s and she plunged her hand straight on his cock, rubbing it with her fingers. Fletcher groaned at the feel of his cock hardening. The girl drew closer to him as she opened her mouth wide and pushed the hard flesh into her mouth. Lucy watched the girl sucking the man’s cock harder and deeper, as he pressed her head against his stomach and tugged on her hair. Fletcher’s eyes rolled in their sockets. Lucy’s own pussy began to melt while she watched the scene unfold before her, in some pseudo voyeuristic act. The Latina girl stopped sucking, a look of pure lust across her face as she gripped the cock in her hand, squeezing so the veins pulsed.

    Find out more about what Lucy goes through at Sin Cafe by purchasing the book on Amazon here http://www.amazon.com/Sin-Café-Thomas-Rochester/dp/1482776154/ref=sr_1_5?ie=UTF8&qid=1421681959&sr=8-5&keywords=sin+cafe

    Image courtesy of Thomas Rochester

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  • Sexy Reads – The White Witch’s Legacy 1: Raven

    Sexy Reads – The White Witch’s Legacy 1: Raven

    When Xander Kane meets a delectable exotic dancer in a bar, he is instantly drawn to her striking beauty. He knows he has to have her, but when he finally convinces her to let him take her home, she disappears without a trace after they share an electrifying night together. He never thought he would see her again, but when fate takes her right back to his doorstep he is intent on making her pay for running out on him like she did. But Raven is not what she seems, and the secrets she hides, coupled with his own dark skeletons, threatens to destroy any hope that Xander harbored for them.

    Raven embarks on a perilous journey to protect her mother’s legacy and finds herself fighting for her life at every turn. When she meets Xander Kane, he is everything she wants in a man and everything she cannot afford to let herself have right now. Will they be able to overcome the obstacles that confront them at every turn and find their way to love?

    Excerpt

    “Don’t come.” Xander’s voice was like a battering ram slamming into her head, interrupting the intoxicating sexual high she had been experiencing.

    “No!” she screamed when his lips left her sex, his head moving from between her legs.

    He chuckled softly, gently easing her legs off his shoulders and rising to his feet. “I say when, beautiful, never forget that. You come when I tell you to, only when I tell you to.”

    She had to bite her tongue to quell the annoyance that welled in her stomach at his words. Who the fuck did he think he was? She wanted to tell him to go fuck himself. She wanted to knee him in the groin and get the hell out of there. But when he took her hand and pulled her off the sofa, she couldn’t find the will to even resist for a moment. She was desperate for him, desperate for the pleasure she knew he could give her. Moisture seeped between her thighs when she noticed the lustful animal ferocity in his sea-blue eyes and her anticipation returned with full force. Oh God, maybe she was a whore after all!

    He spun her around so that the fronts of her thighs were touching the arm of the sofa. He ran his hand over her shoulders and down her arms, reaching around to cup her breasts, as he used his body to push her forward. She was now fully bent over the sofa arm, ass held high, head lying on the soft cushions. She whimpered when one of his hands trailed a heated path along her spine to finally splay at her waist and hold her in place. His other hand delved between her thighs, easing the thong fully to the side as he sank two long, thick fingers into her body with exquisite gentleness.

    “So eager, so fucking wet,” he whispered as he withdrew his fingers to fondle her clit before sinking them into her heat again. Myra couldn’t stop herself from gyrating on his hand. Her pussy clenched and gushed reflexively, loving the feel of his fingers inside her sex, wanting even more still.

    “Please…please, I-I’m so…God, don’t make me beg.” Hot tears stung the back of her eyes when she heard the desperate, pathetic words that had just been uttered from her lips. How did he do this to her? How did he reduce her to nothing more than want and need without even trying?

    “You don’t need to beg, beautiful, at least not tonight. Tonight I’ll freely give you what you desire, all that you desire.” He pulled back then, leaving her momentarily to quickly sheath himself with a condom. Then he was plunging into her, his powerful cock forcing its way into her tight channel, stretching her almost painful. A loud gasp escaped Myra when she felt him sinking into her. God, she’d forgotten how big he was. Jesus, he was so damn huge! She gripped the sofa for support as he filled her to capacity, inch by glorious inch.

    “Christ, you feel good. So fucking good around my cock,” he rasped, his voice shaking with unleashed lust. He pulled back, sliding his cock completely out of her. She glanced over her shoulder wildly, afraid he would stop. Did he plan to just leave her hungry and desperate like this, to punish her? God, she wouldn’t survive it.

    “Don’t go! Xander, please, I—”

    “Shhh,” he said, and she watched as he held his magnificent cock in one hand and slowly rubbed it against her moist slit, teasing her until she was wiggling against him, pressing back to try and force him to enter her again. Then suddenly, he was at her entrance again, his thick member sliding into her like it was made to be there. She cried out as he began to fuck her steadily, pulling back and pushing in, finding a delicious rhythm that made her pussy clench and flutter.

    “Yes…Jesus, yes!” she cried, curling her fingers into the cushion. Xander grabbed her hips and continued to fuck her at an almost leisurely pace, pumping into her with slow, torturous thrusts. Myra worked her hips, pushing back on him to try and get him deeper into her body.

    “That’s it, beautiful, fuck me back.”

    Love what you just read and like the rest of it?  Get it here at the following links:

    http://www.bookstrand.com/the-white-witchs-legacy-1-raven

    http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00NVENDS8

    Image courtesy of Kelsie Belle

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  • Sexy Reads – The Art Teacher

    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, BWE 2015 CoverMireille 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

    Image courtesy of Rachel Woe

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  • Sexy Reads – Harriet: A Family Affair

    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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  • Sexy Reads – Awakening the Willow’s Heart

    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 dSenseless Teaser1etermined 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.”Kissing Him Promo1

    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
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  • Fifty Shades of Valentine

    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 13th, a very lucky Friday the 13th 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 10th.

    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.

    pic2After 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.

     

    pic4

    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.

     

    pic5

    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…

     pic6Title: 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.

     

     

    pivc

    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.

     

     

    pic8

    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!

  • Sexy Reads – Dominating Devney

    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.

     

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