Best Sex on the Net: #Elust 62

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Photo courtesy of Bawdy Bloke

Welcome to Elust #62 -

The only place where the smartest and hottest sex bloggers are featured under one roof every month. Whether you’re looking for sex journalism, erotic writing, relationship advice or kinky discussions it’ll be here at Elust. Want to be included in Elust #63? Start with the rules, come back October1st to submit something and subscribe to the RSS feed for updates!

~ This Month’s Top Three Posts ~

Sex Blogger Life: Real Talk

Selfies, Shame and Safety

‘Dress me like a slut and punish my cock’

~ Featured Post (Molly’s Picks) ~

I live in a sex-positive bubble.

Wicked Wednesday: Silent Memories

 

~ Readers Choice from Sexbytes ~

*You really should consider adding your popular posts here too*
Are you guilty of slut-shaming sex doll lovers?

All blogs that have a submission in this edition must re-post this digest from tip-to-toe on their blogs within 7 days. Re-posting the photo is optional and the use of the “read more…” tag is allowable after this point. Thank you, and enjoy!

 

Writing About Writing

Why can’t I write gay erotica?!
Cream doesn’t rise: the state of UK erotica
Coming clean about writing dirty…
The Big Book of Submission: 69 Kinky Tales

Erotic Non-Fiction

I’ve Collared Myself a Human Pony
Strapped Back In
View From The Bridal Suite
It’s a date (2/2)
Your Tears Make Me Wet.
Photograph
Spanking – the ultimate mood changer

Thoughts & Advice on Sex & Relationships

Yes, I am a slut. So?
M feels that labeling myself “gay” erases him
“Appearance Not Important”
Traditional sexual consent vs bdsm consent
Bigger Doesn’t Mean Better!
All in One Person: Thoughts on Non-Monogamy
I Lust, Therefore I Am
Buddhism and Poly
The Great Outdoors
My Love Is Not About You #SameSexCouples
Thinking of You
Tantra Massage For Multiple Male Orgasm

Blogging

Blogging: My Layout Pet Peeves
An Unpleasant Outing

Erotic Fiction

The Flight Attendant’s Return Home…
Kinky Cocktail Story Time: The Jelly Bean
Spanked Silent
Hunted

Sex News, Opinion, Interviews, Politics & Humor

Quantification of Everything (Especially Sex)
Polyphobia – The New Homophobia

 

Thoughts and Advice on Kink and Fetish

For Submissives.
Protocols. I Want.
When You Can’t Trust Your Body
Masters Guilt
BDSM Is Not (the only) Kink
Fetal

 

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Pow! It’s Shibari Girl!

Hi,30ddc-the2bsexy2blibrarian2527s2bbig2bbook2bof2berotica2bpic

If you follow me on Twitter or Facebook, or even here, you can’t have missed the recent release of The Sexy Librarian’s Big Book of Erotica, edited by Rose Caraway for Cleis Press. This jumbo anthology contains my story Pow! It’s Shibari Girl! and I think it’s one of the most fun stories I’ve written to date.

When I first read the Sexy Librarian’s call for submissions I was thrilled! Rose wanted fun, super-hot genre erotica – with a sprinkling of kink, bondage and role play thrown in. I knew instantly I needed a super heroine that would stand out from the crowd – so I created Shibari Girl! Unassuming college co-ed Mallory by day, rope-slinging supergirl by night, she’s an irresistible package with the potential for good-versus-evil tied up in some hot shibari scenes.

Shibari Girl! patrols the city by night with her trusty shibari ropes and ties up any villains she comes across. She fights for justice, on the side of good, dedicated to serving the citizens. But one day she’ll meet her match! When the notorious diamond thief Crabman takes a side swipe at Jimmy Jack’s Jewel Warehouse, the scene is set for the ultimate confrontation between good and bad – and there’s far more at stake for Shibari Girl! than twenty-two-and-a-half million dollars’ worth of rough diamonds…

19566715_sHere’s an excerpt:

“We had some good times, Mallory,” he says, and suddenly his mouth is on mine.

For a second I’m caught unawares by how good his kiss tastes, but then the superhero in me takes over. As I work my tongue into his mouth, I push back against him and hook one of my legs behind his knee. He goes down onto his back with a grunt, pulling me with him, but I’m sitting astride him now and I still hold the advantage.

“They were good times, Tobi, but you got greedy.”

I peel his Peachy Club T-shirt up his chest and he wriggles out of it. It’s evident he’s been putting in the hours in the gym and if circumstances were different… I lick my lips.

“I’ll split the diamonds with you, Mallory. We could get away somewhere secluded, just the two of us. Things could be like they were before.”

Am I tempted by his offer? Not until I flip him over and see the small tattoo of Shibari Girl! on the back of his shoulder. It looks fresh.

“You became Crabman to attract my attention?” I say.

“It was the only way. You usually look right through me. But now…”

He smells so good but then I remember the looks on Commissioner Thomas’ and the store manager’s faces.

“Tobi, you broke the law and you’re going down.”

I grab his arms and though he struggles I’m too quick for him. In six simple knots I have him trussed and naked in a classic Shibari tie. His wrists are bound to his ankles and a corset of rope work holds him in a fixed kneeling position. He grunts and struggles as I work on him but as my fingers run up and down his back and across his chest, the grunts turn to moans and I can’t help but notice his burgeoning erection.

“God, I’ve missed this,” he whispers.

The memories flood back: Tobi swinging in a rope cradle with my mouth on his cock or the two of us, bound hip to hip in pneumatic motion. I’m not supposed to be getting turned on but I am. My breath hitches and his cock twitches in response. I clip a D-ring into the nest of knots at the small of his back and winch him up off the floor.

“Come on, Mallory,” he moans. “For old time’s sake before you turn me in?”

I look at how the red ropes bite his tanned skin, knowing the marks will remain for days and suddenly I know I’ve got to have him. Commissioner Thomas and his denizens can wait. Tobi won’t be getting anything like this for a long time where he’s going and, for the sake of a shared past, I can lend him a couple of hours. I secure the main rope to an iron ring set in the wall and then I take half a dozen more ropes and work up a cradle around him. The result is that now Tobi is swinging gently, several feet above the floor, in an armchair position. He watches me intently as I work, but he doesn’t speak.

“Where are the diamonds?” I demand roughly, not wanting him to guess what’s coming his way.

 

Buy it here:

Cleis Press
Amazon.com
Barnes & Noble
Google Play 

 

My Skin is Burning – A Snog for Sommer Blog Hop!

Hi,

Today I’m excited to be joining the Smut for Good Snog for Sommer blog hop – does that sound like a tongue twister to you? Trying saying five times fast… Now, once you’ve untangled your tongue, let me explain. The wonderful crew over at SmutUK have put together a fundraising bloghop to support fellow erotica writer Sommer Marsden. Sommer’s currently facing all of our worst nightmares, having to confront cancer within her family – and right now, they need all the support we can give them.

So what I’d like you to do is one, two three or four of the following:

  1. Read the kissing excerpt below taken from my story “Summer in December”, which appeared in the Summer Loving anthology.
  2. Click through to the Smut for Good page and leave a donation, however small, to help Sommer Marsden and her family.
  3. Leave a comment below for your chance to win a real book – ie one that’s made of paper, not electrical current! (I’ll give the winner a list to choose from – but it will one the anthologies I have a story in.)
  4. Buy a copy of Summer Loving if you haven’t already done so!

I know, it’s a lot to ask of you – but take your pick. And please also send some positive vibes Sommer’s way, if you believe in that sort of thing!

Tamsin

xxx

PS I forgot to put a closing time for the competition when this post went live – so I’ll keep it open until Wednesday, September 17th, midday BST! Keep those entries coming!

Excerpt: Summer in December

Andi works as a chef at a research station in the Antarctic. To get her boss’s attention, she decides to go skinny dipping in the freezing cold sea. Maybe not such a good idea…

My skin is burning.  My fingers and toes are pain like nothing on this earth.  My teeth chatter like a pneumatic drill’s going off in my skull.  Someone’s rubbing warm hands up and down one of my calves, massaging my foot.  Someone’s talking to me.

“Can you hear me now?  Andi, can you hear me?”

I think I nod but I can’t really feel my body.

“What the fuck were you thinking?  You nearly killed yourself.”

I’ve never heard Al this angry, even when I ruined a whole day’s work by putting the oven on extra high instead of low.

“I’m okay,” I say but all I hear is chattering teeth and spluttering noises.

I’m wrapped in fleecy blanket and I look around.  We’re in a bedroom and it isn’t mine.  It must be Al’s.  Underneath the blanket, I realize I’m naked.  I see my underwear in a pool of water on the floor.

My whole body’s trembling and shaking.  Any deliberate movement is completely beyond my control.

“Jesus, I’ve gotta get you warmed up fast,” says Al.

I’m naked on his bed.  I have ideas about getting warm.  At least my brain does; I’m not sure my body is quite there.

“Sh-sh-sh-shared b-b-body heat,” I manage through my teeth.

It’s true – it works.  It’s what they tell you to do in the safety manuals.  It was simply a sensible suggestion that could save my life.  It had nothing to do with the thought of Al having to get naked too and press his hot body against the length of my cold one.

His look says that he knows exactly what I’m playing at.

Silently, he strips off his clothes and joins me on the bed, pulling the fleecy blanket around us and the rest of the bed covers up as far as our shoulders.  He smells good in the confined space.  Yes, a little sweaty.  After all, he did have to pick me up and carry me up the shore and into the station, him fully dressed in a 750 fill power down jacket.  But spicy and masculine in a way that makes me want suck the air around him and drink it up.

I press myself against him and this, I think, is when I finally breach his defenses.  He lets out a long, low moan and wraps his arms tight around me.  His body feels red hot in comparison to mine and, hell, I want to stay just pressed against him like this forever.

“You didn’t need to do that to get my attention.  You had it from the get go.”

I put both my trembling hands up to his cheeks and look deep into his chestnut eyes.  I have to wonder if I’m delirious from the cold shock.  But he’s smiling at me and there’s a hunger in his expression.  A hunger for me.

“Your mouth looks cold,” he whispers.

His lips on mine feel like a hot brand and his tongue touches mine like warm velvet.

 

Buy it now! Buy it here:

All Romance
Amazon US—Kindle
Amazon US—paperback
Amazon UK
Smashwords

Undone: A Dark, Dirty Treat

Undone Kristina Lloyd-580

Hi,

Actually, I nearly didn’t bother to write this post because this ravishing cover just about sells itself! It’s so enticing I could stare at it all day long… But as I’ve volunteered to be a stop on Kristina Lloyd’s Undone blog tour, I don’t think she’d be too impressed if I left it at that!

Of course, now you’ve seen that cover, you’ll want to know what’s inside. A dark, dirty treat of a story that will leave you feeling hot and breathy over and over again. As always, Kristina’s writing is flawless – and if you’re new to her work, then you’re in for a delicious initiation. Kristina melds erotica and thriller to create a dark whirlpool, with  currents that will suck you under and draw you in. Like the heroine, Lana, you’ll become unsure of how to escape – or if you even want to… Nothing is quite what it seems. Accident. Murder. Suicide? Kinky sex games with a stranger. With two. When Lana wakes up at the beginning of the story, she finds herself in a world that’s shifted. And she no longer knows who to trust…

 

UNDONE EXCERPT

The story so far: it’s the morning after the night before. It was quite a night, and it’s quite a morning! Lana Greenwood enjoyed her first threesome at a weekend party in the country. Now, on the next day, one of the men has been found dead in the swimming pool.

Here, Lana and the other guy, Sol Miller, have escaped to nearby woodland, eager to avoid the police and any scrutiny into their private lives. Lana doesn’t quite trust Sol but that’s not stopping her. In this excerpt, the two of them are alone in a clearing, and Lana has just stripped at Sol’s request.

 

‘C’mere, Cha Cha.’ He unbuckled his belt with slow, deliberate menace.

I strolled towards him, cautious, the carpet of old, broken leaves springy beneath my sandals.

He removed his belt, brown leather whistling through the loops and finishing with a faint crack. Oh, jeez, that sound, that lick at the air. Arousal raced in my veins, the beat of blood pumping me to hot, desperate sensitivity. My heart rate skyrocketed. As I moved, I felt encumbered between my thighs, my flesh transforming into a thick, sloshing weight that was almost too heavy to carry. How could I even function when I was like this?

Sol unbuttoned his jeans and edged them down his thighs, baring his pale hips. His erection sprang out at a gloriously fierce angle, poking up from his wiry pubes. He paused, motionless, thumbs in his pushed-down jeans as if intent on showing me his hardness in all its implicitly threatening, flattering glory. He wanted me, and he damn well wanted me to know it.

He heeled off his trainers and shoved his jeans to his ankles. He tossed his jeans alongside his T-shirt on the crippled tree and stepped forwards, cock bobbing, leather belt in hand. Muscles curved and flexed in his powerful, hairy thighs. I stepped out of my sandals, the leaf-carpeted ground yielding beneath my feet while offering random little stabs as I walked. We were Adam and Eve but mutually wary, significantly hornier, and eager to grab that sweet, tempting apple.

Face to face, we stood without touching. Sol’s eyes darkened with seriousness.

‘I reckon we both need to forget,’ he said. Tenderly, he hooked a strand of hair behind my ear.

I nodded, jolted by the pain of remembering why we wanted our escape. ‘Do anything you want to me,’ I said.

He pinched his eyes shut, raised his face to the canopy and then gave me a hard, direct look. ‘Don’t say things like that.’

He was dazzling to me, his jaw unshaven, his hair unkempt, his eyes deep in shadow. And at that moment, when he appeared to be wrestling with demons, he was more beautiful and dangerous than ever.

I shrugged without replying. I meant it. I didn’t care. He was the beast, the poacher, the wolf in disguise, and I was small and defenceless, craving his destruction.

Sol took the belt in both hands. I almost forgot to breathe as he hooked the leather length over my head and positioned the strap across my back. He threaded the end through the brass buckle and pulled the belt tight below my breasts, trapping my arms by my side. The tug of the restraint forced a low grunt of need from me. Jeez, it gets me every time, that subtle imposition of dominance. It might be the press of bondage, the hint of bossiness in bed, the fist gripping my hair as we kiss goodnight in the street.

‘That OK?’ he asked. He ran a thumb over one taut nipple.

‘More than,’ I breathed.

 

If you’d like to know more about Undone, please hop over to my blog for an excerpt, and check out the other stops on my Sexy September blog tour.

 

Kristina Lloyd writes erotic fiction about sexually submissive women who like it on the dark, dirty and dangerous side. Her novels are published by Black Lace and her short stories have appeared in dozens of anthologies, including several ‘best of’ collection, in both the UK and US. She lives in Brighton, England.

About Undone

When Lana Greenwood attends a glamorous house party she finds herself tempted into a ménage à trois. But the morning after brings more than just regrets over fulfilling a fantasy one night stand. One of the men she’s spent the night with is discovered dead in the swimming pool. Accident, suicide or murder, no one is sure and Lana doesn’t know where to turn. Can she trust Sol, the other man, an ex-New Yorker with a dirty smile and a deep desire to continue their kinky game?

Amazon UK paperback :: Amazon UK Kindle :: Amazon US Kindle :: Amazon CA paperback :: Amazon CA Kindle

 

Want to play with fire? Take the Heat release day

Hi,

Another release day has crept up behind me and shouted ‘boo’ in my ear! How could I have forgotten that today’s the day that Take the Heat hits the street? This is a steamy, sizzling anthology full of bad boys, smart girls and criminal intent, all put together by the queen of dark erotica, Skye Warren – and it features a fabulous line-up of writers, including Pam Godwin, Shoshanna Evers, Trent Evans and Giselle Renarde. It’s already been garnering 5-star reviews and I’ve been really thrilled as a couple of times my own story, “Playing with Fire”, has been singled out for praise.

TakeTheHeat-500x750Take the Heat

The ultimate bad boys, criminals capture our attention and awaken our darkest desires. Celebrate the illicit in this romantic suspense anthology, where handcuffs are used for more than play. These stories are shocking, sexy, and thought-provoking.

In New York Times Bestseller Skye Warren’s “Magnolia Hotel”, meet the heroine who pays her brother’s debt to a loan shark—who happens to be her childhood crush. Find out if the jury made the right decision in “Acquitted” by award-winning author Giselle Renarde. Explore a dark and sensual psychology with New York Times Bestseller Pam Godwin in “Unlawful Seduction”.

New York Times Bestseller Skye Warren – Magnolia Hotel
Cynthia Rayne – Captivated
New York Times Bestseller Pam Godwin – Unlawful Seduction
Sheri Savill – Slipknot
New York Times Bestseller Shoshanna Evers – This Might Hurt A Bit
Candy Quinn – The Bombshell
Tamsin Flowers – Playing with Fire
Elizabeth Coldwell – Disposing of Donnie
Audrey Lusk – Surprise Witness
Trent Evans – Last Day
Giselle Renarde – Acquitted

Ride the edge of desire and see if you can TAKE THE HEAT…

“Wicked, deadly, seductive…” – KT Book Reviews

Excerpt from “Playing with Fire”

Aston Moore sat alone at the head of the table. He was dressed in black from head to toe. His jacket hung on the back of the chair, and his top few shirt buttons were undone to reveal a curl of dark chest hair. In other circumstances Cassandra would have found his looks attractive, but this evening the sight of him made her tremble.

“Ah, Cassandra, come in,” he said, waving her forward. Then he looked across at the mâitre d’, who was now standing just inside the door. “Send someone to clear away this mess, would you?”

The man nodded and disappeared, leaving Cassandra alone with the bastard who would be her pimp. How had it come to this? She bit her lip and stared at the floor.

“You scrub up well, but you’ll get nowhere if you can’t look your johns in the eye.”

She raised her head and stared him in the face, hot fury coursing through her body in place of fear now.

Moore’s smile was disarming, but she still glared at him.

“It’s time to show me what you’ve got,” he said, shifting in his chair as he pushed it back from the table.

“Business first,” said Cassandra. “How much will be wiped off my sister’s debt for every…”

“…every trick you turn?”

“Every time I have sex with one of your johns.” Even just saying the words left a bad taste in her mouth.

“I can’t tell you that until I’ve sampled the goods,” he replied.

“Do I get paid for this time?”

“Listen, honey. I’m doing you a big favor here. Don’t push your luck.”

He was doing her a favor?

The door opened, and a waitress came in. She started clearing the table, and while she was in the room, Cassandra and Aston Moore contemplated each other in silence. A shifty, nervous silence, with tension thickening the air. The waitress seemed to pick up on it, clattering the crockery with nervous hands as she loaded her tray. By the time she left, Cassandra’s heart was thundering in her chest.

Moore stood and went over to the door. There was a quiet double click, and Cassandra realized he’d locked it.

“Here?” she said. “There’s no bed.”

“Perhaps I could take you bent over the table,” said Moore. He advanced toward her, and Cassandra stepped away. “Or I could sit back and relax in the chair while you worked on your knees. What do you think? How would you pleasure me if I was a paying client?”

Cassandra’s mouth was dry. Words wouldn’t form, but she could hardly think of what to say anyway. All afternoon she’d been imagining what she would need to do once she was alone with this man, a man whom she quite literally despised, but through all those hours her mind had gone blank every time she reached this moment. And now he was asking her to take the initiative.

Melly’s gaunt face flashed before her eyes.

Swallowing her pride, her nerves and her distaste, she took a step toward Aston Moore, who stood his ground, watching her with an amused expression on his face.

“If you were my client, I’d ask you what your pleasure was,” she said. She’d dropped her voice an octave, making it low and throaty. She put her hands on his shoulders and let them rove back and forth around his neck and down onto his chest. “What can I do to make you happy, Aston? To make you feel good?”19566715_s

She dropped a hand down and pressed it against his groin. He was semihard already, and his cock twitched at her touch. Moore looked momentarily surprised, but then he grinned.

“I’m tired, Cassandra, and a little jaded. I’ve had more women than you could ever imagine. I want something special, something I’ll remember, that’ll make me want to come back for more.”

Cassandra had no idea what to do next. She was winging it. Her sexual experience heretofore came nowhere close to this. What the hell did a man like Aston Moore want? Or need? Slowly and deliberately she unbuttoned his shirt, sliding her fingers under the cool cotton and scraping her nails over his taut abs. She heard his breath catch in his throat as she eased the fabric out from the waistband of his pants. As she pushed his shirt collar back over his shoulders, she pressed her lips against his ear.

“Bitter or sweet?” she whispered.

“Bitter?” he said, sounding unsure.

“Light or dark?” she whispered.

“Dark.” She could hear the smile in his voice. He was intrigued.

“Obey or be obeyed?” she whispered.

“Obey.” He seemed to falter, but he left it at obey.

“Dangerous or safe?” she whispered.

“Dangerous,” he said, grabbing a handful of her hair and yanking her head back so he could see her face. “But I think you’re playing with fire, Cassandra.”

“Undoubtedly,” she said.

“And someone could get burnt.”

“I hope so.”

Then she took possession of his mouth, a rough, savage kiss with no concessions to his position as the man, the john, the paying customer, the pimp.

 

Amazon.com

Amazon UK

Alison Tyler: Phone Sex Masterclass!

Hi,

I’ve never made a secret of the fact how much I admire Alison Tyler – she’s a first class writer and a superb editor of all things erotic – and damn charming along with it. So naturally, I’m thrilled once more to be a stop on one of her brilliant blog tours – this time it’s for the third title in her autobiographical series: Wrapped Around Your Finger, published by Cleis Press. However, if you’re looking for an unbiased review, you might as well stop reading now. I’m totally bias – I love her work.

Why?

Here are just a few examples of random sentences from Wrapped Around Your Finger. You can quite literally open the book at any page and come across a scattering of pearls…

On Sam’s needs:

But what I did with him, what I was willing to do, the pain I yearned for, the level of humiliation I could accept, all of that matched his need to inflict the pain, to push down the shame, to take me to the highs and lows that I craved.

Anticipation:

When he stopped, the rewards began.

On Jack’s needs:

For Jack…for Jack I think sex was a tool. Sometimes a weapon of torture, sometimes an instrument of almost unbelievable pleasure, but mostly a tool to slide inside the heads of his lovers.

Thrilling:

There was no talk of safewords here.

And so damn sexy:

I could hardly breathe, locking eyes with Jack, as Alex plunged into me, my most recent climax still sending sparks throughout my body.

Have I whet your appetite for what Wrapped Around Your Finger has to offer? You want to read more? So here’s a longer excerpt and it’s an absolute masterclass in how to write phone sex. Alison Tyler – she’s got me wrapped around her finger for sure!

Enjoy!

Tamsin

xxx

 

Excerpt

In the early afternoon, Jack called me from his office.
“You writing, Sam?”
“No,” I said honestly. There was no reason for me to lie and tell him I had been productive. He’d have seen through the fib even over the phone. What if he asked me to read him what I’d created? Where would I be then?
“Packing?” he queried next, and there was humor in his voice.
“Uh-uh.”
“Sliding those naughty fingers of yours between your nether lips and touching yourself?”
“Yes, Jack.”
“And thinking of what?”
“You know.” As soon as I spoke the words, I realized that had not been the correct answer.
“You’re already getting one spanking tonight,” Jack said somberly. “Are you trying to go for two?”
“No, Jack,” I stood up straighter, even though he couldn’t see my improved posture, and I forced myself to pay more careful attention to Jack’s questions and my own responses.
“So tell me,” my man continued, “what are you thinking of?”
“You spanking me.” It was fact. Total fact. And yet, as always, the words were difficult to say. You ought to see me at public readings. How pink my cheeks get when I reach the dirty parts of a story. Yes, I am the shy pornographer. I always have a tough time with the X-rated words. Not writing them, as you can see. I can write cock and pussy and asshole like the best of them. But there are certain terms and phrases that give me pause every time I have to put a voice behind the words.
“So tell me,” Jack repeated. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”
I pressed my legs together. Jack’s request was so damn sexy, and yet what he was asking me to do was so damn hard. And he knew it. All I wanted was for him to drive home right then and take care of this need of mine. Yet I dreaded that moment just the same. It’s what makes wanting a spanking so conflicting. Never changes. At least, this sensation has never changed for me, even after all these years in subspace. I approach every spanking the same fucking way. With embarrassment. With excitement. With lust. And with some variation of heart-pounding fear.
“What am I using on you in your dirty little fantasies?”
Jack prompted me, and I guessed he had his hand on his cock.
“Your belt,” I said immediately. “The one you wore today. You don’t even have the time to search for something else. You come right through the door and you bend me over and I listen to the sound of the buckle and then the hiss of the leather pulling through your loops.” I was touching myself now. This was my porn. “You start on top of my clothes.”
“What are you wearing?”
I actually had to look down at myself; I was in such a daze. What was I wearing? Faded 501s, black mules, vintage Rolling Stones-concert T-shirt, so old there were holes throughout the near-translucent fabric.
“Jeans,” I told him.
“I start on your jeans?”
“Yeah, for the first few licks, and then you reach around my waist and unbutton the fly and slide down my pants.”
“You’ve got on panties?”
“Yes,” I told him. “Tuesday panties.” I remembered that. I’d changed after my second bath of the day. God, he would hardly have to touch me I’d already come so many times. I was more than primed. I was practically putty.
“And I use the belt on you through your panties?”
Clearly, his office door was shut if he felt so confident talking to me like this. Boldly. We rarely had phone sex.
Jack was focused when on the job. But I supposed that his decision to establish a seven-day punishment had created the same effect in him the plan had in me. Longing. Overwhelming desire. When those Dom/sub pieces fit together, the result is a beautiful thing.
“Yes, Jack,” I said, “but then you pull them down.”
“I don’t make you do it?”
“No, Sir. You pull them down.” Christ, the thought alone of his hands on the waistband of my panties had me touching myself again, fingers thrust down my jeans, wishing he were here. Now. Surprised when he said, “I’ve got to run, Kid.” And disconnected the line.
Blurb

Samantha’s attraction to her Dom, Jack, grows as they indulge in a sultry, Story of O-style affair. He promises her a trip to Paris, and in anticipation, creates a series of sexual rewards inspired by the seven deadly sins—one for every day of the week. As Samantha dives deeper into his imagination, she discovers new edges to her own sensuality.

Hailed by everyone from Publishers Weekly to Penthouse Variations as the pinnacle of BDSM fiction, this coming-of-age tale pulses off the page. Wrapped Around Your Finger is, at the core, a great love story—and one that could only happen in our time. Inspired by Alison Tyler’s own sex diaries, this lusciously authentic novel is a romance so intensely written you’ll feel every hard-earned caress.

Available from:

Wicked Wednesday: Silent Memories

13272521_s

Silent Memories

I remember how you used to talk to me as you undressed me. Telling me how you’d thought about me during the day. Telling me that I was your only true love. Whispering words in my ear that would make others blanch, but made me smile and shiver.

I remember the sounds that accompanied our ritual. The soft ‘phut’ of buttons being pressed through holes. The slow rasp of a zip being undone. The sound of your heavy shoes clattering across the floor as you kicked them to one side. The silky hiss of my stockings as you rolled them down each leg. The jingle of change in your pocket as your trousers dropped. The barely perceptible clicks of the fastenings as you undid my bra. My sigh as my breasts were liberated. Your grunt as your mouth found its way to one of them. My gasp.

I remember the whoosh of air escaping the mattress as our joint weight dropped onto it. The crumpling sound as you kicked the duvet aside, and the soft slump as it settled on the carpet. More words. You always had a way with words, choosing the ones that would turn me on as I lay beneath you. When you stopped speaking, I would sometimes hear the roar of my own circulation in my ears. The silent dull thud of my heart beating a tattoo for you.

I remember the rough sound of my finger running against your stubble. The click of your teeth on my fingernail as I pushed the same finger between your lips. The rustle of your hands through my hair and your breath against my ear.

I remember my sharp yelp when you bit my shoulder once and the slap that rang from your back as I tried to stop you. Your laughter and my giggle. And the springs of the bed groaning as we rolled together so I was on top. My own voice, so tentative in asking for what I needed. And your replies. Always so sweet. Always what I wanted to hear.

I remember the small sucking noises as your fingers slipped inside me. I would be wet from the moment you walked in the door. I was always ready for you. A small squeal of pleasure escaping past the teeth biting my lower lip. My sharp intake of breath as you added another finger. And then another.

The imperceptible sounds of two bodies sliding against each other.

I remember the dirty words that slipped so easily from both of us as you pushed your cock into me. Fuck! you’d say as you fucked me fiercely. The thump of your hips against mine, flesh chafing flesh. A groan. A cry. A sob. A grunt that sounded pained as you came hard inside me. My own shriek as your tongue extracted an orgasm from my swollen clit.

I remember the words you’d say to me afterwards as we lay together, clammy with sweat in the night. The best words. The ones you saved till last.

Now, there is only silence.

 

 

Wicked Wednesday