Tuesday, November 30, 2010
So make sure you stop by any day this month and leave us a comment to enter. In addition to our giveaway, we'll be sharing all of our favorite holiday memories and inviting readers and writers alike to share theirs too.
So grab your hot chocolate, spiced apple cider, or egg nog, lol, and join us for a month of great memories and fellowship with one another.
Click HERE to join us or click on the pic on the right side bar!
Monday, November 22, 2010
These two back-to-back posts should make for some very interesting discussion. Stop by when you have the chance. Readers and authors are definitely welcome. Please, comment with your opinions. We'd love to hear from you.
Sunday, November 21, 2010
Do you like erotic poetry? Erotic romance author and poet, R. Paul Sardanas, allowed me the honor of collaborating on a poem with him. I'd love to know what you think of our creation. In addition to the poem, our friend, Samarel, of Samarel Art http://samarelart.com gifted us with the usage of one of his beautiful works of art to go along with the poem. To learn more about Paul and his writings, visit his website:http://rpaulsardanas.com Pick up a copy of his most recent release, a tantalizing tale of love and lust, The Order of the Golden Rose, which you can find at almost any online venue including Amazon. Thanks for reading.
Answering a Lady's Call
by Tess MacKall and R. Paul Sardanas
An unguarded moment rouses desire from its slumber.
She moves, most subtly, as he lies beside her.
Wrapped in gossamer threads of chastity, she stretches,
Memory of the unspeaking language of their bodies stirs,
breaking through her cocoon of denial.
tearing away all complexity of thought.
Uncertain, she touches the loosed cords that have imprisoned her.
Hesitant, he feels warmth flow to his hands, long cold.
Consent long ago given, now disavowed.
Want, once spontaneous, becomes a tortured path.
She parts her lips in awakening and her amber colored whispers beckon.
Her voice of soft desire comes to him in accents of dream.
In twilight, she waits.
He touches her hair, and walls of empty night fall away.
Ever susceptible to his caress, coral hues of sun-risen desire curls through her body, and pool at her woman’s center.
From the edge of sleep, he feels a tremulous wonder at the return of an almost painful heat.
A moment of clarity intrudes, a bitter reminder of her discontent.
Is she dreaming of him? How sweet that would be, and he almost prays for wakeful thought between them to blur, to stay gently buried in a mist of half-remembrance.
Torn, her body grows taut with the shame of her weakness and passion’s ache shimmers in its pearled essence of winter, refusing to surrender.
If he should speak, he knows he will no longer be a memory of love and hunger; her eyes are tightly shut, he is afraid that they will open, but he wants to see the look he once lived for in their depths.
Desire given voice, a small cry falls from her lips as slender tendrils of need ask for his charity.
They hang on a thread, woven of heart’s sound, until he hears her call; so small, so wrenching in its muted cadence of want.
And forgiveness finds its path.
He knows, and it floods into him with frightening joy, that the night has taken them deep again.
The darkened places of her heart dance with wild abandon, unfurling a scarlet ribbon of desire.
He gasps, echo to her own call, and when he breathes in, he is filled with the scent of her, ripping into a core of purest need that he cannot believe he had ever sealed, and put away.
In the long breath he takes, she hears the splendorous chorus of lost passion found, and trembles with the unexpected truth.
His hand is shaking, as his fingers run through her hair, then to the warm arc of her cheek, and the corner of her mouth.
He still wants her. She still needs him.
Her lips open, then close around his fingertip.
As morning blossoms lift their faces to the sun, she turns, gathering his hands to her breast.
When she turns to him, takes his hands, and he feels the beating of her heart beneath her breast, he remembers life. It is in the warmth of her skin, in the moist trace her mouth has left on his finger.
Her endless night glistens wet with unspoken apology and basks in the radiance of acceptance.
How could he have let himself forget this? Regret for nights that should have had no end lodges in his throat, and is transformed through the silent eloquence of his tongue, placing it to her areola; rising, to kiss the hollow of her neck.
She arches into the heat of his sunlit kiss as she presses her woman’s center into the curve of his hip and wraps her leg around his. Her body had not forgotten. Only the mind suffers.
When they were new together, and desire was uncontrollable, the simple pressure of her leg against him would have gone unnoticed. A ripple, on the face of a flood. Now it fans him to an intensity of desire beyond anything in the memory of youth.
She cries out with need for the touch and feel of what she thought lost, now found. The lines between lust and love blur and knowing him again is all that matters.
Her cry wrenches something in his soul. He wants to say “I never stopped wanting you. To be inside you is everything.” But as he enters her now, she breathes out two words. Did she truly say “love me”? He answers, with his body, with his own breath, with his soul.
She wants to tell him how much she loves him, how much she’s missed him—missed this. But for now it will be enough to feel him inside of her. To once again understand she belongs and is wanted, needed, loved. Her winter is at end.
He doesn’t know what the hours will bring, what tomorrow will bring. He knows just one thing in the warmth of this moment. Love didn’t end. Lost and silent, even hopeless…it rested. And yearned, all unspoken, for healing. His long, cold night transformed.
Tonight, sweet night, a call is answered, and they will sleep in the other’s arms.
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
Jekyll Island is on Red Alert: These Tough and Sexy Operatives Will Leave the Island Forever Changed
On rare occasions, a writer will pen something they can’t seem to leave behind after they type out the ending. Breakfast by the Sea is one of those books. Jeff Jacobsen, the lead Alpha-male hero in the novel is forever embedded in my mind. The story, the characters, and the setting will remain in my head for years to come.
When writing a ménage romance with more than two heroes, I tend to lean toward one of these fellows right from the start, but after reviewing my notes for the novel, I never thought this would be an obstacle in this particular novel and for various reasons.
When the characters were developed, I fell in love with each of these men, feeling like they were the boys next door. These operatives were cowboys with plenty of heart. They were willing to take up arms and fight for what they believe in and more than willing to die for the person they were standing beside, especially when one of their own, a brother more than a friend, counted on them for their protection.
As much as I tried to keep Jeff Jacobsen on common ground with the others, he kept pressing his way to the forefront and mainly because there was so much story to tell about his past; too much to reveal and a lot of layers to uncover. The man behind the operative chased the demons he desperately needed to overcome and once Paige revealed her place in his life, I was toast. Jeff was mine.
Even though Jeff Jacobsen emerged as the leading hero, Callan O’Bree won over several beta readers from the start. He was noted as the perfect Irishman—handsome, charming, and full of mischief. Miles is said to be intelligent with a dry sense of humor certain to win over his own crowd. As for Adam, our fearless Super-Ops leader, he has a definite fan club for various reasons. I can’t reveal those without giving away a few spoilers.
In the end, I think readers will be very surprised at the turn of events between Paige Lambert, our heroine, and Connor, one of the heroes who could’ve easily emerged as our leading man. The way the tables turn between Connor and Paige is one of my favorite parts in the story. I think you’ll see the underlying significance of their relationship and agree, the final scene between Paige and Connor lays the groundwork for an incredibly sweet happy ending.
I’m proud of Breakfast by the Sea and hope you’ll consider purchasing this book while it’s on sale at a tremendous 15% savings. I’m anxious to introduce ‘my boys’ to you and hope you’ll love them as much as I do. Breakfast by the Sea is available today at Siren-Bookstrand.
Destiny Blaine/Natalie Acres
Natalie Acres is one of the pseudonyms for Destiny Blaine. Natalie’s books Sex Party, Sex Games, and Cowboy Boots and Untamed Hearts became the #1 Best Selling Erotica and #1 Best Selling Western books on Amazon soon after their initial release dates . Destiny Blaine’s western ménage books Domination Plantation (Aspen Mountain Press) and A Matter Among Four (Siren Publishing) have captured and claimed best selling spots on various third party retailers. Destiny Blaine is also credited for being one of the first authors of sports romance. Her sports romance books are available now at Siren-Bookstrand.
©2010 Destiny Blaine
Blurb for Breakfast by the Sea:
A beautiful woman with a checkered past runs a legitimate bed and breakfast on Jekyll Island. Several young men posing as cowboys move in Breakfast by the Sea and things become chaotic right from the start when the oceanfront B&B turns into a command center for a very determined group of special Super-Op Forces.
Pursuing a man known as the King of Hearts, five tough operatives fall for a woman they’re supposed to eliminate. When the team discovers Paige Lambert is in fact the Queen of Hearts, they can’t ignore their handler’s orders. Is the bed and breakfast owner destined to die for her past crimes or will she end up under the protective custody of the men hired to kill her?
Excerpt One for Breakfast by the Sea:
He felt like he’d just laid eyes on her for the first time. He started at her chin, noticing the way the dark brown hair curved under her jaw, a lock of hair so delicate but there nonetheless, like it was clinging for dear life. Was that what Paige was doing? Was she frightened? Was she running scared?
His gaze traveled down her long, slender neck. He admired how she held her head high, the structure of her slender collarbone leading to a bare chest with plenty for a man to enjoy. Before he indulged too much, Paige knelt down and retrieved her clothes, shrugging into a sports bra, one she had to yank over those full mounds in order to secure them.
Damn. She was right. Snapping that neck of hers would be a terrible waste.
That’s when his mouth watered. Why hadn’t he gawked when she’d been topless? And why did he find her sexy as all fucking hell right then?
Her flat stomach made him itch. He’d love to kiss around her sunken belly button and insinuate a slow sex act, make her arch for him, beg him for more.
Finally, he studied the band of her shorts. What he’d give to lick and tease his way a little lower, strip away those shorts and show her what she’d been missing. Maybe in her body, he’d find what he’d been looking for all along. Perhaps he needed to fuck a woman he wasn’t later expected to kill. Then again, he couldn’t be so sure that order wouldn’t come.
“Is something wrong?” she asked, batting her eyelashes.
“No,” he replied, storming ahead of her. Suddenly, he wondered why she followed him then when she hadn’t trailed behind him before. He stopped, turned around, and shook his finger again. “Don’t you dare run. I’d like to have breakfast before we do that again.”
“Okay,” she said, catching up and walking beside him. “Want to answer my question now?”
“How can you keep up with me?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know,” he growled.
“I’m in great shape.”
“I can tell.”
Jeff stopped at the bottom of the steps. “Is that you coming on to me?”
She sashayed by him. “No, Jeff. That was me trying to figure out how I can outrun you next time.”
“There won’t be a next time,” he told her, grabbing her from behind and slamming her against the steps, bracing her back with his large hands.
His breath matched hers. The move knocked the wind out of both of them.
“I’m not going to kiss you,” he said, thinking he wouldn’t put up much of a fight if she laid one on him.
She moistened her lips. “I didn’t think so,” she whispered, arching her neck. “What if I kiss you?”
“Is that what you’re planning to do? You have the rest of these guys by the balls, and since I’m not turning tricks to taste the pudding, what ’cha gonna do, darlin’, offer me a spoon?”
“I don’t understand your riddles,” she stated flatly, licking those full, enticing lips once more.
“Let me give you a warning. I’m the real thing, sweetheart. I’m in Jekyll Island to work. It’s something all of us do very well when we don’t have a distraction. Now, since I’ve been assigned to you for the time being, I’m setting you straight. You’ll do what I tell you, and you’ll do it with a wide smile to boot. Understand?”
“Or you’ll what?”
“I told you what I’d do. If you want to see how much I enjoy skinny-dipping, pull one of your stunts again. I’ll drag you into that ocean and make sure every tourist within ten miles hears you when you scream.”
“I already heard the guys talking. You wouldn’t rape me,” she said, narrowing her gaze and proving then that she wasn’t so sure.
“Rape? Hell, no. You’ll respond to me like a bitch in heat. I have a way about me.”
“Really? Who would’ve thought?” she asked diabolically, moving her lips to his ear. “Who can I ask to verify this? Hmm? Have you left any of your past lovers alive? Because if you have, I’d love to give them a call and invite them to join me for tea.”
Excerpt Two is for Adult-Only Sites:
Retrieving a large piece of leather luggage from the top of her closet, she started packing. Jeff stood near the French doors, eyeing the beach. “Tell me about the resort.”
“The Jekyll Island Club is swanky, a throw-back from yesteryear with many of the same upper-class families vacationing there. The old families have been coming to the island for generations. As a business owner, it’s hard to compete. The resort appealed to the upper echelon of society for a great number of years.”
“What about security?”
She looked right through him. “I’m sure you’re aware of Ramone Carpasia’s reputation. I hope you won’t put untrained guards in harm’s way. The rent-a-cops at the club are no match for Ramone. If Ramone goes public for a battle, hotel security won’t stop him. We may not.”
Jeff snickered. “I’m not afraid of your ex, baby. Besides, we’re not facing off with him tonight. We have time to put a plan together. We’ll go out to eat, enjoy a little wine, a little dancing, maybe even a little—”
“Take me off the menu,” she advised him, walking to her closet and throwing a few dresses into her suitcase. At the same time, he strolled over to her dresser, and as luck would have it, he didn’t have to search for the lingerie. He removed the narrow top drawer from the bureau and dumped all the contents into her luggage.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
“I’m making sure you’re prepared.”
She glared at him. “Have I missed something? You’ve been here for about a month. You stare at me like you hate me, threaten me whenever the opportunity presents itself, and now you seem hell-bent on fucking me.”
“Sounds about right,” he said, fingering one of her favorite lingerie items, a thin, royal blue silk negligee with lace cups, thin threads barely holding them in place, a satin tie at the waist, and a transparent skirt.
“I’d rather be married to Connor.”
His head jerked. Winking, he said, “If we were talking a true honeymoon and wedding here, I might choose Connor for you, too. But since we’re trying to keep you alive and secure our target, I’m the man for this job. At the end of the day, you’ll be glad I’m me and you’re you.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” she asked, tossing a blouse toward him and watching him fold the soft cotton like the feel of material she’d worn against her skin excited him.
“We are what we are, Paige. Men aren’t that different from women. There are men you fuck, enjoy the hell out of in bed, but you wouldn’t take them home to Mama.”
“I’m not sleeping with you.”
“You didn’t let me finish,” he said. “Those are the men you want standing beside you when you meet an enemy. They have testosterone on their side. It’s what gets them going in the sack, and it’s the same thing you see coming out when a man fights for what he believes in.”
“But you won’t fight for me. You might fight beside me, but you won’t draw your gun for me.”
Moistening his lips, he caught her wrist when she tossed another article of clothing toward the luggage. “If I’m standing beside you, or anyone else, I’m fighting for you. I don’t step into the line of fire without knowing why I’m there and who I’m responsible for protecting. Got it?”
She tried to break his grip. When she failed, her gaze met his.
“We’re working together. For the time being, trust me to guard you.”
She swallowed. “I wonder how many women you’ve led to your bed with similar promises.”
“All of them.”
“And they ended up dead,” she stated flatly.
“So I’ve been known to tell a lie or two.”
“I’ll sleep with both eyes open.”
“Perfect. I knew you were a woman after my heart.”
“Bah! That’s the last thing I’m after.”
He patted her behind. “After you rubbed this all over my hard-on, I know what you’re after. My heart won’t get you off, but I have something that will.”
She grated back the urge to curse him. “God! You are so full of yourself!”
“I’d like to show you why sometime. Maybe I’ll get a chance on our honeymoon.”
“I hope I never get that desperate.”
“You will,” he promised. “I’ll make you wet, Paige, fucking wet. And then I’ll do something about it. That’s not a promise. That’s a no-questions-asked money-back guarantee.”
She picked up her luggage, and he immediately took over, placing his hand over hers until she released the handle. “I won’t be used by you or anyone else.”
“Maybe not, but I’m still going to fuck you. That’s what it’s going to take to make us both happy.”
All you have to do is give your honest opinion. You will not be quoted unless you give permission.
Thanks in advance to all those who respond.
Monday, November 15, 2010
If you're wondering about paid advertising, we're trying to take the mystery out of it for you. My guest today is promo guru, Destiny Blaine. http://destinyblaine.com She's my go to person for lots of things, but promo is HER specialty for sure.
So if you're an author wondering if paid advertising works or if you're ready for it, stop by and check out the post. Leave a comment or ask questions. We'll be on and off all day and will certainly do our best to help you out.
And hey, if you like the Three Wicked Writers Plus Two Blog...follow us! http://threewickedwriters.blogspot.com
Friday, November 12, 2010
Available now at Ellora's Cave!
Just when Lila has resigned herself to the fact the most exciting chapters of her life are over, a blast from the past walks into her bakery. Six feet of gorgeousness named Gavin drops by as she’s closing up shop. They were once high-school sweethearts and it’s been more than twenty-five years since they’ve seen each other, but time hasn’t diminished the sweet heat between them. Soon enough the sparks—and the frosting—begin to fly.
As they rediscover each other’s bodies, it’s clear Gavin’s no longer a boy as he shows Lila the man and skillful lover he’s become. Though Lila knows this whirlwind romp could be an act of insanity, his touch unleashes the sensual woman she’s forgotten she could be. And she thinks—maybe—she has one more leap in her.
An Excerpt From: LEAP
Copyright © CINDY JACKS, 2010
All Rights Reserved, Ellora's Cave Publishing, Inc.
Gavin followed her through the swinging door to the back. With a low whistle, he looked around the kitchen and asked, “Is this place all yours?”
She walked over to the Purposeless Cake and stared down at it. Pulling a box from beneath the worktable, she started to put it away, but then thought better of it.
“Are you hungry?” asked Lila.
“I could eat.”
“Good.” She pulled a knife from a drawer, cut slabs of cake and served them up on heavy-duty ceramic plates. Gavin grabbed two stainless-steel forks from a gray plastic silverware tub to his right.
She handed him his plate.
“This looks great,” he said.
He shoveled a bite into his mouth and moaned. “Oh my God. This is— Damn.”
Lila grinned. “Thanks.” She took a bite of cake. “Not bad, if I do say so myself.”
Pulling up two barstools, she sat and motioned for him to do the same. Lila studied him as he moved to take a seat. Taller, broader. Gavin had become fully a man. Though he was clean-shaven, she wondered what he’d look like with a beard. Could he grow one now? His dark hair led to about an inch or so of well-filled-out sideburns. Yeah, she was sure he could grow out his facial hair and he’d look pretty damn good if he did. Not that he didn’t look great as he was. The cropped, clean-cut look worked for him. A whisper of gray touched each of his temples and he wore that well too.
Her gaze wandered down his frame. No excess flesh or jutting bone. His tight musculature shifted his frame with ease. Clearly he took care of himself, worked out often. A picture of him shirtless in some imaginary gym, sweat dripping down a cut chest and abdomen, appeared in her mind’s eye. She blinked away the thought, trying to focus on his words and ignore the pounding of her heart. Her hand strayed to her matronly bun and the bobby pins holding it in place. She picked them out of her hair, one by one, and shook out her shoulder-length tresses.
“Mom said you’ve been at this location for the past ten years. I can see why,” said Gavin.
She cleared her throat. “Jack helped me set it up after we got divorced.”
“It was a pretty amicable split…as divorces go.”
“My ex, Irene, and I went through a pretty rough one a couple years ago.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
He took another bite of cake. “It’s all good now.”
Lila worked on her piece for a few minutes in comfortable silence and then asked, “Why did you come here tonight, Gavin?”
He glanced around the room and gave a little shake of his head. “To see you.”
“I get that. I mean what were you expecting from me?”
He rubbed his hand on the front of his jeans. “No expectations. It’s—it’s just good to be back. You’re part of my memories of home. I guess. No, I mean you are. Definitely.” He grunted and rolled his eyes. “I’ll stop rambling now.”
She let out an amused huff under her breath. “You’re fine.”
She slid her fork over her plate and scraped up the last of the frosting and crumbs. Her tongue darted over the fork tines and licked them clean.
Gavin reached out his hand. “You got a little chocolate…”
He brushed his thumb over her bottom lip. She let her tongue graze the tip of it. Shocked by her own audacity, she shied away from his touch but he cupped her face in one hand.
Eyelids lowered, Gavin leaned in. Dark lashes rested against his cheek. Warm lips skimmed across hers. The hand under her jaw slipped beneath her hair and cradled her neck. Lila’s body relaxed into the kiss, sliding her tongue over his. For a moment she lost herself in the scent and the taste of him—chocolate richness and the citrus undertones of his cologne, but all too soon, she remembered the shards of glass lodged in her heart. Pain at the memory of Alan’s departure stabbed at her.
“Maybe we shouldn’t be doing this,” she murmured.
“Maybe not.” He gave her a quick, soft kiss and then a longer, more urgent one.
Shouldn’t be doing this, Lila thought. A list of reasons she should rebuff his advances scrolled through her mind. She was still getting over Alan. She hadn’t seen Gavin in over twenty-five years. Jesus Christ, a quarter century. Nothing good ever came from rushing into sex. But who said they had to go that far? Well, she did want to fuck him. No denying that. But the last thing she needed was…was…?
The feel of his heated mouth against hers overrode her common sense. Oh, to hell with it. Why not?
Get your copy today! http://www.jasminejade.com/ps-8822-50-leap.aspx
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
Our Cover Price: $6.99
Release Date: November 10, 2010
Drawn to the attic in her new home, Amelia finds a saucy nineteenth-century wench dress. At first glance, it’s just a dress, but once she dons it, desire streaks through her and she’s transported to the past. Overwhelmed by lust, she is caught pleasuring herself, discovered by the most gorgeous man she’s ever seen, who turns out to be—her lover?
Amelia and Emmet join in an explosive sexual union, erasing the months—or is it centuries?—they have been apart as though they never existed. But suddenly Amelia awakes—alone.
Until the dress calls again.
Emmett’s not the only one lusting after Amelia. Lord Graham wants her and he doesn’t fight fair. He kidnaps her, sends Emmett on a deadly errand and forces Amelia to participate in his voyeuristic games. Although Amelia’s body betrays her, she vows to remain true to Emmett, but will he return? And can she escape the clutches of Lord Graham’s debauchery? Amidst subterfuge, treachery and murder, Amelia and Emmet’s love grows and they reach new heights of carnal passions.
Emmett ignored her, only sliding his hands to span her stomach. His mouth covered one nipple, teeth lightly nipping, and the shock nearly had her opening her eyes. He sucked, tugging on the taut peak the way she liked, as she knew he would. She cried out, almost reaching her pain threshold. Emmett eased the pressure a little, then sucked and reared his head back once more, the torment too much for her, too intense.
He let her nipple go. It ached, and despite wanting the sweet torture to end, she longed for more. As though picking up on her thoughts, he tongued her nipple, sucking it as before. Amelia clasped her hands together tighter, wanting to cry out yet at the same time testing herself to see how far she could go. He pulled harder, his fingers stroking her waist, circling her navel, and she clenched her cunt, willed herself not to gasp.
She failed, snatching in air.
Breast free of his mouth, she lifted her pelvis, needing him to cater to her throbbing bud. The mattress dipped again as he shuffled his knees farther down the bed then settled between her legs, the heat of his breath on her slit forcing the air out of her lungs. Her torso juddered beneath his questing fingers and she itched to pinch her nipples. Instead, she squeezed her hands again. His tongue parted her. The tip swirled around her nub and a blaze of sensation warmed the folds.
“Oh God, Emmett…”
“I’m going to sup your cream. Lick you, make you want me so much you can’t breathe.”
He flattened his tongue, licking her with quick strokes, fingers smoothing down her body to widen her slit. She bucked as he worked faster, exquisite waves of pleasure ebbing and flowing in and around her bud. Panting, she writhed, unclasping her hands and gripping the headboard spindles. She dug her nails into her palms, the bite adding to her excitement. Tongue flicking from side to side, Emmett brought her to the brink of orgasm then stopped, kissing her mound and her lower belly. She hissed out between clenched teeth, frustrated but knowing when he touched her there again the pleasure would be stronger. He took his mouth from her belly and didn’t move. She waited, eyes still closed, and listened to the sounds around them—their breaths, a creaking bed downstairs, faint moans from customers, footsteps on the wooden floor below. She longed to open her eyes, to see whether he studied her, but at the same time not knowing suited her. And she waited, her heart picking up speed, her wet nub throbbing in time with it. God, how she wanted to let go and slide her hands into his hair, pushing his mouth down onto her slit, directing his movements and orchestrating the pressure. To tell him to sup her now, beg if she had to. But she remained silent, confident he knew exactly when to begin again.
At last, movement! He hooked his hands beneath her buttocks and lifted her, setting her lower half on his thighs. His balls rested against her ass, their softness and warmth arousing her beyond measure. Emmett brushed his hands up and down her legs, thumbs skating close to her thatch each time he reached the top. When he drew away she almost cried out in frustration, wanting more of the touch of his fingertips beside her mound. He leaned back to caress her shins, then her calves and she loosed a strangled moan. God, he teased her so! She needed his hands higher up, at her nub, which pulsed and swelled with every passing second. Sliding his hands beneath her knees, he pushed so her legs bent and she placed her feet beside him on the bed. He spread her legs and she could only imagine the sight of herself open for his viewing.
“Beautiful, wench. Beautiful.”
Her stomach flipped at the hoarseness of his voice, a voice that belied the fact he was in control. He was close, she sensed it, and it wouldn’t be long before he could hold back no longer and plunged inside her. She hoped it would be soon, because she was close to coming herself. The slowness of his actions had brought her to a high state of arousal, and just the slightest touch now might send her over the edge.
Thumbs sliding up and down each lip of her slit, Emmett tortured Amelia some more. She jolted, eyes nearly springing open, and waited to feel what he would do next. He placed his thumbs together then glided them down to her opening, easing them inside with his fingers splayed over her mound. He pressed his thumbs and fingers together, her pelvic bone in between, and moved his thumbs up and down the upper wall of her sheath. Suddenly, he curved his thumb tips and touched something deep inside her, a place he had never been before. A sharp sensation had her abdomen jerking and she almost, almost opened her eyes.
“Did you like that?” he asked, dragging his thumbs down then returning them to that place, pressing there with his fingers.
The sensation came again, and now he concentrated on the area, rubbing what felt like a ridge inside her. She nodded, wondering what would happen if he kept stroking. Amelia didn’t have to wait long before successive shots of fierce pleasure momentarily took away her ability to breathe.
“I told you I’d take away your breath. Good. That feels good, doesn’t it, wench?”
She nodded and gasped, riding out the new feelings his thumbs produced. As the bite receded, her bud still throbbing and in need of attention, he eased his thumbs out and gripped her waist. Without warning, he thrust his cock inside her, fucking her hard and fast. She clenched her sheath around him, gripped the bed spindles tighter and gave in to the rising tide.
“Ah, wench!” he ground out.
His firm thrusts nudged her up the bed and she crossed her ankles at his lower back, her whole body tingling with excitement. Juices coated his cock, the length of him gliding in and out easily, the aroma of sex heightening her desire. She came, bucking, keening, emotions running so high they overwhelmed her with their intensity. Emmett’s low moans and grunts brought on another wave of pleasure and her cunt ached with it. Wet heat filled her and her lover loosed a strangled yell, pushing into her with short jabs as he emptied himself into her contracting sheath. He slowed to a stop and lowered his body to hers, brushing her cheeks with sweet kisses.
Amelia opened her eyes, staring into his. Love shone from him and she wanted so much to tell him how she felt, but the words wouldn’t come, halted by the lump in her throat.
I love you, Emmett Dray. Love you…
Saturday, November 6, 2010
Paul writes not only the most incredible poetry but also the most intriguing erotic romance I've ever read. He's a brilliant writer with a true gift for words. A very enlightened man and a unique voice within erotic romance. Stop by and see what he has to say about the connection between women, empowerment, and enlightenment as it relates to erotica. Leave him a comment. I know he'd love to hear your thoughts.
His latest releases will amaze you. Touch in the Bed of Light and The Order of the Golden Rose. Visit Paul's website to learn more about hiim and his incredible books.