Tag Archives: guest blogger

The Door in the Wall – A Guest Post By Monique Roffey (@MoniqueRoffey13)

Sexual love can be a gateway to the divine, a common trigger to a full blown mystical experience. So say the mystics and tantrikas. Most of us have experienced moments of utter bliss, a lift into an altered space, after and during sex, in short, we have touched spirit. Many religions believe in this too, including Christianity, that sexual love can be the ‘door in the wall’, or a hidden window onto a spiritual reality. The writer George Feuerstein says that today’s sexual malaise, addiction to porn etc, is a spiritual, not a societal problem. Feuerstein (a scholar and tantrika), says that most crucially, we have lost contact with our bodies. We both deny our body and are pre-occupied it. We distrust our body, and we are ashamed and afraid of it, and there is an absence of ‘true sexuality’ in today’s world. Many of us can ‘perform’ sex without being present. We have a fear of the body, and especially a fear of the feminine, seen in our disrespect for nature/gaia and the way we exploit it. I totally go along with his ideas. He wrote about this in the 90’s and he was ahead of his time, and well ahead of the internet. Today’s world of internet sex often misses this component of sex and spirit. Porn offers hard, quick fix voyeurism; it often only offers us a wilderness.

Years of tantra have informed my views on sex, the way I think about sex and the way I write about it. Scared sex, to me, is sex that sustains me, morally and spiritually. It is the opposite of routine, unfeeling, goal orientated sex, the goal being orgasmic release.  However, you have to practice this kind of sex, and find a partner who practices it too. Tantric sex is the sex of woman worship; it is a woman’s call for intimacy and more intimate relating, sexually. And so, I’ve mostly sought tantric lovers in the last ten years. A bed isn’t just a place to get it on; it’s a place to connect with spirit. I believe it’s important to cultivate an awareness of the spiritual dimension to sex and to know how to lead others to this door in the wall.

I joined a tantric group recently, after years of being on the outside of the tantric world. A lover died, I broke up with another. I needed time away. Rejoining was a good thing to do. Recently, one dimly lit spring evening, I found myself seated yab yum style on a handsome half-naked man, our energies connected and flowing and the kundalini energy rising. It was simple and easy to get there, too. We were entwined, softly, and yet charged with desire and I felt like I was glowing there, lit up like the full-blown frigging Goddess. For a moment this handsome man stopped and chuckled as if reading my thoughts; he gazed deeply into my eyes and whispered welcome back.

My novel, The Tryst, is written from my own POV, as a tantric woman; it is woman-centred, and it is about a call towards intimacy for Jane, towards an awaking of a different life, a new way of being. Jane knows something is wrong with her current life, that there’s more out there, just as I did in my early 40’s. She senses a call to a greater sexual life in the form of numerous fantasies and dream trysts that pester her day and night. The sexual part of her is active in her imagination, only. She wants sex, but just doesn’t know how to break out of her own confines to find the type of sex she needs. It takes another woman, a Kali type Goddess, Lilah, a predator and a sexual connoisseur, to throw her into crisis and to force her to leap, to activate her sexuality Then, there’s healing. Jane finds her scared whore and her full sexual potential, the part of herself was missing. The Tryst is about a woman finding her sexuality, and it doesn’t come easily. There is a fight for it.

*****

The Tryst (Dodo Ink)

Extract

By Monique Roffey

I found Bill still asleep in our bed. He was naked, covered to the waist by a thin sheet. It was dawn, a fragile time of the day. July too, and the sash window was fully open, the curtains not drawn. I hadn’t seen Bill in ten days. Now, I feasted my eyes on him – so vulnerable in sleep. He was half-turned on his side, cradling himself with one arm, his hair had grown decidedly longer and fell about his face and shoulders, and his torso was summer tanned. He was a man in his late 40s and big framed, both muscular and voluptuous, a sight of a man. Gazing down at him there, I came to understand that Bill was a piece of my puzzle too. Just like Lilah, he was part of my solution. A longing for him sprang inside me, warm and reassuring – my husband. I put a hand across my belly and welcomed the sensation, letting it spread slowly, thinking I had needed Bill all along, for part of me to heal.

And now I saw him lying there, I had a choice. I could go, leave him sleeping. Or I could step forward into another life, fully open. On the side table next to him, I saw the small polished egg I’d left behind, a part of me too. A gift, a message I’d never fully understood myself. I took out the stick of chalk I had with me and bent to the ground, drawing a thin white line around our bed, whispering incantations. The sprite had gone but she had left her energy in the room; I could still smell her there, dense earth. I lit a small sprig of sage too and uttered banishments at each corner of the room and when I was done, I sat down carefully on the bed. I had never fought for Bill, let alone protected him or what we had.

Bill’s eyes flickered.

I smiled at him. He groaned and shook his head. His eyes flew open and he stared. His alarm faded when he registered who it was.

“I’m here,” I said.

His eyes opened wider, his long hair fell over his face and he pulled it back. His beard looked stronger too, as though Bill had been quietly growing richer over the last week or so. He didn’t say anything; he just looked at me. He gazed and mouthed the words hello, Jane.

He looked clear-faced and older. The worriedness I’d associated with his features had somehow lifted. I said hello back and moved across the bed and lay myself down next to him, face to face, our bodies aligned and close, not touching. I was clothed. Bill was naked. The sheet separated us. We gazed at each other for several minutes. Sadness swelled in me, a wave of regret and devastation at the loss of him. For those ten days I’d been unable to contact him by phone or email. Lilah had interfered. I had understood some kind of separation had been imposed; it was out of my control. We’d been cursed. I’d wept for days in a hotel room. Tears fell, looking at him. He touched my cheek.

“I’m sorry,” I said.

He moved closer and kissed my tears. I felt relaxed, like that tender feeling after a bath. Or maybe my own grief had softened me. I felt older too, and womanly, and forgiving of myself and him. Bill kissed me on the mouth and pulled away the sheet and I reached down to hold him.

I kissed him back and he moved across me, pulling open the buttons of my shirt. Then we were together, in motion, kissing, responsive to each other, tongues searching, words flowing between us. My back arched as he smothered my breasts with kisses and whispers of his own sadness and regret. Both of us uttered our mantras, sorry, sorry for the past. I was wet and soft and half-clothed.

I saw Bill then. Big-boned and full-hipped and sexy. Both of us were somehow sexier for being this age. Had I lost confidence in my body? If so, I seemed to suddenly have it back. Then Bill was on top of me, naked and hard, his cock pressed into my stomach. He peeled off my white lace bra and I showed him that I was a little unsure of my breasts and he said ‘yes’ with his eyes. Had this been part of it? The loss of my younger body, was that also in the mix? Bill peeled down my jeans, taking my panties with them. He sank his mouth between my legs and I gasped, burying one hand in his hair. I laughed and he laughed too and drank. I opened my legs and sighed and opened my eyes and even said the word out loud, “Lilah”.

I could feel her presence in the glossy silkiness between my legs. Bill’s tongue was strong and agile and I writhed with the pleasure he provoked. Then he stopped and looked at me, as if to say, this is only beginning. He pulled my jeans away so that I was naked and yes, my nakedness brought on a feeling of extreme shyness. And at the same time I felt open and full of longing. Then Bill was using his knuckle up and down, up and down on my clitoris, stroking me and dripping his silky serum on to me. My breath quickened and a spasm came from my groin, from his tender loving hands. An orgasm sprang upwards from my centre and swept through me. I’d never known this husband-lover Bill, had never tempted him to me, ever. He laughed and watched my body tremble and then he said “my wife, my wife”, and slowly, oh so slowly, he sank his long hard cock into me.

*****

The Tryst, blurb

By Monique Roffey

London, midsummer night. Jane and Bill meet the mysterious Lilah in a bar. She entrances the couple with half-true, mixed up tales about her life. At closing time, Jane makes an impulsive decision to invite Lilah back to their home. But Jane has made a catastrophic error of judgment, for Lilah is a skilled and ruthless predator, the likes of which few encounter in a lifetime. Isolated and cursed, Jane and Bill are forced to fight for each other, and, in doing so, discover their covert desires.

Part psychological thriller, part contemporary magical realism, The Tryst revisits the tale of Adam’s first wife, Lilith, to examine the secrets of an everyday marriage.

*****

Praise for The Tryst

“What makes The Tryst an unexploded virus isn’t just the quality and brightness of Roffey’s writing on sex, even as it uncovers inner glades between flesh and fantasy where sex resides – but the taunting clarity of why those glades stay covered. A throbbing homewrecker of a tale, too late to call Fifty Shades of Red.”

DBC Pierre, Booker Prize winner

*****

BIOG

Monique Roffey is an award-winning Trinidadian-born writer. Her novels have been translated into five languages and short-listed for major awards including 
the Orange Prize, Costa Fiction Award, Encore Award, Orion Award and the OCM Bocas Award for Caribbean Literature. In 2013, Archipelago won the OCM BOCAS Award for Caribbean Literature. Her memoir, With the Kisses of his Mouth, was published in 2011. She is a Lecturer on the MFA in the Novel at Manchester Metropolitan University. She divides her time between the East end of London and Port of Spain, Trinidad.

Buy at Amazon:

UK: http://amzn.to/2snABX2 US: https://www.amazon.com/Tryst-Monique-Roffey-ebook/dp/B072BX51PV/

Book trailer: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=esSTfsbP3P4&sns=em

Twitter: @MoniqueRoffey13

Facebook: @MoniqueRoffeyAuthor

Instagram: @MoniqueRoffey

Website: www.moniqueroffey.com

Guest Blogger: S. Nano

Lady Sally’s other adventures

Lady Sally Rudston-Chichester is the main character of Mistress Of The Air. She’s a larger than life, incorrigible dominatrix who travels across the Empires of Europe finding new and inventive ways to punish her submissive gentlemen and creating mayhem along the way.

Lady Sally was featured in other adventures before Mistress Of The Air. Her first appearance was in a short story, ‘Lady Sally Rudston-Chichester and the Silk Merchant of Samarkand’, which appeared in an anthology called Beltane Fire (Xcite Books, 2012). In this story, she travels to the silk route city of Samarkand to follow up an account in the journal of her ancestor who tells of a marvellous weave of silk that works like a kind of ancient day Viagra. In fact, we find out in this story that Lady Sally is descended from a Samarkand courtesan. She ends up getting fucked on the tomb of Tamerlane the magnificent by her silk merchant.

She returned in ‘Lady Sally Rudston-Chichester and the Walled Garden’ in an anthology of stories on the theme of gardening erotica in Fifty Shades of Green (Greenwoman Publishing, 2014). In this story she commissions landscape gardener, Jack Buckingham, to design a walled garden planted with poisonous and prickly flora which Lady Sally proceeds to use on him before fucking him in her new garden (yes, there’s a theme developing here!)

Lady Sally possessed some distinctly Steampunk characteristics in both these earlier stories, especially her love of fine corsetry and nice afternoon teas. But in ‘Lady Sally’ Rudston-Chichester and the Automaton Horse’ (Forbidden Fiction, 2015, reproduced in the anthology Of Passion and Steam, 2017) she developed into a fully-fledged Steampunk character. After her horse is beaten by Lord Melchiot’s at York Races, believing she’s been cheated, she plots her revenge involving a brass, automaton horse that provide unique opportunities for some exquisite punishment.

Mistress Of The Air does sneak in some references to Lady Sally’s earlier adventures including her lineage as the ancestor of a Samarkand courtesan. And she has fun telling her companions these tales whilst smoking a hookah pipe of hashish whilst in Istanbul.

So, as you can see, the character of Lady Sally has been developing, reaching its culmination in Mistress Of The Air. You can expect wild escapades, kinky BDSM, the fastest airship ever built, dastardly devices, explosions and nice cups of teas. I hope you’ll join Lady Sally for the ride

Buy links to Lady Sally’s other adventures:

Beltane Fire: http://slavenano.co.uk/writing/lady-sally-rudston-chichester-and-the-silk-merchant-of-samarkand/s

Fifty Shades of Green: http://slavenano.co.uk/writing/lady-sally-rudston-chichester-and-the-walled-garden/

Lady Sally and the Automaton Horse: http://slavenano.co.uk/writing/lady-sally-and-the-automaton-horse/

Book Blurb

Mistress of the Air is a Comic, Steampunk, Erotic Adventure.

Lady Sally Rudston-Chichester owns a brass mine in Zanzibar, a Lapsang Souchong tea plantation in China, a rubber tree farm in Malaysia, trunk loads of corsetry, and the country’s largest collection of antique whips and floggers.

Larger than life, and itching to find new and inventive ways to punish her submissive gentlemen, the Edwardian dominatrix has a vision. Embracing the spirit of the new age of aviation, she embarks on a series of adventures on her own airship, The Corseted Domme, with her transvestite maid, Victoria, her airship pilot, Captain Wyndham, and her automaton sex toy, Borghild.

A select group of submissive gentlemen, consisting of a duke, bishop, lawyer and banker, is invited to join Lady Sally so she can try out her new dastardly devices and sex toys on them. She whips, spanks and punishes her way across the Empires of Europe, dropping off to visit her aristocratic relatives and friends for afternoon tea.

But Lady Sally’s journey is not uneventful. War is threatening to break out and the Ministry of Aviation want to commandeer her airship for the war effort. And when The Corseted Domme has a crash landing, Lady Sally realises there is a stowaway on board intent on sabotaging her airship.

There will be wild escapades, kinky BDSM, dastardly devices, explosions and nice cups of tea.

Buy links

Ebook

Amazon US (Kindle): http://amzn.to/2qsu64J

Amazon UK (Kindle): http://amzn.to/2pxDBhr

Barnes and Noble: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/mistress-of-the-air-s-nano/1126181430?ean=9781545250242

Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/gb/en/ebook/mistress-of-the-air

Print

Amazon US (print): https://www.amazon.com/Mistress-Air-S-Nano/dp/1545250243/

Amazon UK (print): https://www.amazon.co.uk/Mistress-Air-S-Nano/dp/1545250243/

Create space/eXcessica (print): https://www.createspace.com/7078177

 

Extract

Lady Sally was an organised and ruthless shopper. She had a vision for what she needed and set about her purchases with determination. She was also a tough negotiator and bartered hard with the traders to get a good, and fair, price. This was, of course, only what they would have expected, but if they thought this rich, aristocratic English woman was going to be a soft touch, that illusion was soon dispelled. Lady Sally used a combination of hard bargaining skills, along with her undoubted charm, to secure a good price.

They went from block to block in the bazaar, each zone specialising in a particular craft. She wanted hand-woven Turkish rugs and bought several of them, with brightly coloured geometric patterns. She purchased ceramics, copper bowls, hukkah pipes, silver tea pots, decorated glasses and lamps. That was before she even got to the section selling materials and clothing where she bought silks, cottons, kaftans, gowns, silk slippers and an abundant supply of silver jewellery. Then there were the spices and incenses, and last, but not least the teas. There were stalls selling a vast range of teas, many blends she was familiar with, but she also purchased pomegranate and jasmine teas, which she’d never tried before.

The chests filled up quickly, and it wasn’t long before the six men found themselves carting the laden trunks around the bazaar with them. Lady Sally shopped like a whirling dervish, and it wasn’t until it was time for tea that she finally stopped.

They retired to a tea shop recommended by Mr Mustafa. Lady Sally was sipping green tea whilst inhaling enormous drafts of smoke from a huge hukkah pipe. She was in a good mood… an exceedingly good mood.

She was giggling manically and telling them tales of her colourful past.

“Did I tell you about the time in Samarkand when I got fucked on the tomb of Tamerlane the Magnificent by my silk merchant?” she announced, proceeding to relate the story in graphic detail.

Then she told them about her poison garden at Rudston Hall, and how she’d fucked her gardener, and about how she punished Lord Melchiot on her automaton horse.

She was in fits of giggles.

“Oh, I’ve had such marvellous adventures.” She turned to the merchant, “So tell me, Mr Mustafa, is this what is called ‘hashish’?”

“Yes, Lady Sally, the very finest… and potent.”

“Well, I must say, this is wonderful stuff. My last purchase will be to stock up with some to take back to England.”

By now the whole party was well and truly stoned, except for Victoria, who had a ‘gippy’ stomach from the horse’s testicle, and had declined the offer of smoking hashish. In between reclining on the divans collapsed in a constant state of giggles, they managed to demolish a huge plate of flatbreads, lamb kebabs, chickpea dip, dates and other delicacies.

A young, veiled woman approached them.

“Come here, my dear,” called Lady Sally. “What a lovely necklace. It’s so shiny. Oh, my goodness, I’ve never seen anything so shiny! I don’t think my poor eyes can stand the brightness.”

“Please, are you the famous English lady, Lady Sally Rudston-Chichester?”

Lady Sally was not averse to bit of flattery, “Oh, famous, well yes, naturally my reputation does proceed me.”

“I’ve read about you in the Istanbul Sun. You are a strong lady who will stand up to males and protect women. I have come to plead for your help.”

Victoria’s ears pricked up. Alarm bells rang.

“Yes, do tell me more,” Lady Sally encouraged.

“My name is Nisrahur. You see, my sister has been picked up from the streets by the sultan’s guards where she has been taken to his harem as a slave. I know the girls are badly mistreated. I was hoping a lady of your standing could negotiate with the sultan to get her released.”

“I will do better than that,” exclaimed Lady Sally. “I will rescue her!”

Her maid tried to intervene, “Madam, is this wise? This could end up as a disaster. I see more explosions and being chased out of Istanbul.”

“Victoria, let it not be said Lady Sally Rudston-Chichester will not leap to the defence of her sex for a noble cause.”

About the author

S. Nano is an author of erotic stories with dark and exotic content in fantasy, paranormal or historical settings, often drawing on the themes of female supremacy, BDSM and fetish but with a seam of quirky humour running through them as well.

His first full-length erotic novel, ‘Adventures in Fetishland’, a BDSM/fetish re-invention of Alice in Wonderland, was published by Xcite Books. His short stories and novellas have been published by Xcite Books, House of Erotica, Forbidden Fiction, Coming Together and Greenwoman Publishing.

His second novel, ‘Mistress Of The Air’ was published by eXcessica on 21st April 2017.

Web site: www.slavenano.co.uk/writing

Blog: www.slavenano.co.uk/blog

Facebook (Nano Vaslen): http://www.facebook.com/nano.vaslen

Mistress Of The Air facebook page: https://www.facebook.com/Mistress-Of-The-Air-1671491076492099/

Pinterest: http://uk.pinterest.com/nanovaslen/

Amazon UK author profile: http://www.amazon.co.uk/-/e/B005EBU1QI

Amazon US author profile: https://www.amazon.com/Slave-Nano/e/B005EBU1QI/

Goodreads author profile: https://www.goodreads.com/user/show/6828376-slave-nano

*****

GIVEAWAY!

Make sure to follow the whole tour—the more posts you visit throughout, the more chances you’ll get to enter the giveaway. The tour dates are here: http://writermarketing.co.uk/prpromotion/blog-tours/currently-on-tour/s-nano/

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Blog tour organized by Writer Marketing Services.

Guest Blogger: Elizabeth Black

tourbutton_norestraint

It’s good to meet you, Dirty Birdie Authors. My name is Elizabeth Black and I write smut. Good smut. The kind of smut that gets your knickers soaked. I’m here to tell you about my new and delicious erotic romance novel, No Restraint. I’m also offering a give-away of one of my two erotic retellings of fairy tales, either Trouble In Thigh High Boots (erotic Puss In Boots) or Climbing Her Tower (erotic Rapunzel). Your choice. Enter the contest and good luck!

no-restraint-5-star

I love reading, although it’s a bit harder than it used to be for me since my eyes are shot. I need Coke bottle bottom glasses. I have a Kindle and I set the font to a larger font number. I also read with my glasses off. It’s easier to see the print that way. I read mostly horror, thrillers, and mysteries but I do like erotic short story collections. I have a special fondness for erotic retellings of fairy tales. My next read for enjoyment is Ann Rice’s Sleeping Beauty series she wrote as Anne Rochelaure. I really need to add those books to my repertoire.

My favorite way to read is sitting on the couch with my headphones on. I block out ambient sound with trance music. Digitally Imported – Epic Trance is my favorite radio station. I’m one of those people who can read and write with music playing in the background. In addition to trance, I like ambient New Age music, especially if ocean sounds play in the background. My favorite artists are Armin van Buuren, Paul van Dyk, Tiêsto, Aly and Fila, Sean Tyas, Biosphere, Enigma, Delerium, Adiemus, and Dan Gibson.

My book No Restraint takes all I like about erotic romance and I put it into one story. My alpha hero Jackson Beale has the good looks and money that make fantasy heroes so popular in romance fiction but the guy isn’t perfect. He has plenty of flaws. My heroine Alex Craig has already begun her journey into experiencing the full extent of all her senses. She craves la Dolce Vita. She simply needs a more experienced partner to show her the ropes, and she finds him in Jackson. They share a trip into the sexy and exciting world of decadence. I wrote the kind of book I like to read.

Reading is an enjoyable pastime, next to watching cheesy horror movies. I have been able to get into a good book since I first learned to read. Even before that – when my mother would read to me. As long as I can enjoy a good book, all will be right with the world.

Amazon U. S.: https://www.amazon.com/No-Restraint-Elizabeth-Black-ebook/dp/B01IGHFZI0/

Amazon U. K.: https://www.amazon.co.uk/No-Restraint-Elizabeth-Black-ebook/dp/B01IGHFZI0/

Web Site: http://elizabethablack.blogspot.com/p/no-restraint.html

*****

no-restraint-largeBlurb:

Alex Craig accepts a new job at a high-end sex doll company called Babes. Babes’ dolls are high-end, expensive silicone love toys. Working at Babes is like working for a bacchanal. The company’s culture is all about decadence, enjoying the good life, exciting sex, and enticing food and drink. Alex meets Jackson Beale, one of the company’s vice-presidents. Jackson takes Alex on a new and exciting journey of carnal pleasure. He introduces her to new tactile and kinky pleasures, and she relishes her excitement. The world takes on an entirely new meaning and importance to Alex as she learns what she’s been missing in her life.

*****

elizabeth_blackBio:

Elizabeth Black writes sexy and naughty stories as an erotica and erotic romance writer. She lives a stone’s throw from the churning Atlantic ocean on the Massachusetts coast with her husband and son, and the beach figures prominently in many of her stories. When she is not creating new exciting and sexy worlds, she enjoys baking, making her own bath products, watching horror movies, reading, and traveling. She makes a point of traveling with her husband to Chinatown in Boston most Fridays in the dead of night for a tasty dinner at stupid o’clock in the morning. An inveterate cat lover, her three little furballs keep her company while she writes and otherwise goes about her day. Here’s where to find her on the web.

Elizabeth Black – Blog and Web Site (sign up for her newsletter!)

http://elizabethablack.blogspot.com

E. A. Black – Blog and Web Site (sign up for her newsletter!)

http://eablack-writer.blogspot.com

Elizabeth Black – Facebook

https://www.facebook.com/elizabethablack

Elizabeth Black/E. A. Black – Facebook Page

https://www.facebook.com/elizabethblackwriter

Elizabeth Black – Twitter

http://twitter.com/ElizabethABlack

Elizabeth Black – Amazon Author Page

https://www.amazon.com/author/elizabethblack

E. A. Black – Amazon Author Page

http://amazon.com/author/eablack

*****

Excerpt:

In bed that evening, she succumbed to the build-up of lust she felt for Jackson since the moment she laid eyes on him at Babes. She felt as if she had fallen into a deep, warm bottomless well. Her stomach flip-flopped with excitement as she sailed headfirst into her passion for Jackson. The scent of limes, lemongrass, and sea salt lingered on his skin. As she undressed him, her fingers fumbled with the buttons on his shirt. He took her hands in his and guided them to his hips. Arousal took over her very being. She wanted him, and she shivered with delight at his invitation. With one graceful movement, he removed his shirt. She spied a tattoo of an Asian character on his right shoulder, and she traced the ink with her index finger.

‘What’s this?’

‘It’s Japanese Kanji. The word is nikuyoku.’

‘And that means?’

He turned his face toward hers and gave her a sly smile. ‘Lust.’

Wasting no time, he quickly removed her shirt. Warm air flowed over her skin, making her tingle all over. His mere touch drove her mad! When he pressed his lips against her throat, it took all her willpower to keep from throwing him on the bed and taking over herself. She didn’t want to do that. No, she wanted him to ravish her. They were in no rush, and she wanted to enjoy his body and her own craving to the fullest.

‘You drive me mad, woman,’ he moaned in her ear. ‘You get under my skin like no one ever has before. I’m not sure what it is about you.’ He brushed his lips against her jawline. ‘Your honesty. Your sweetness. I trust you, which is saying a lot. I’m not by nature a trusting person. You bring out the best in me. I want to take good care of you.’

She didn’t know what to say in response that wouldn’t sound trite, so instead she wrapped her arms around him and held him tightly. His lips traveled from her jaw down her throat until they reached her breasts. Hands trembling, he kneaded her breasts until the soft flesh glowed pink. Nipples hard and aching for his touch, she melted into his embrace when he sucked on each one, slowly and with great gentleness.

Without warning, he knelt in front of her on the bed, his head between her knees. His hands gripped her hips with such longing she couldn’t help but run her fingers through his hair. He sighed, and looked up at her with wide, shining eyes. The longing and love in his face stunned her. She knew he opened up to her in ways he didn’t to others, and she didn’t want to ever let him go.

‘You mean the world to me, Alex,’ he said. ‘This is a very special day to me. I hope it is for you, too. It’s the first time we’re going to make love. And I want it to be perfect.’

Overwhelmed with emotion, she smiled and kissed him on the forehead, then on the cheeks, eyes, and lips. She needed him as much as he needed her, and she was never going to let him go. His passion aroused her so much she was already very wet. She lay on her back on the bed, legs spread, waiting for him to enter her, but he surprised her by kissing her knees, and moving up to her thighs. With eagerness, he kissed her heat. Jackson gently lapped her folds with his expert tongue until she was so wet and overheated sweat beaded on her forehead.

Jackson slipped two fingers inside her, then three, all the while stroking himself until he was hard. He worked her into a frenzy so exciting, her pulse pounded in her head. She gripped his hair in both hands and guided his head to her sweet spot. As his tongue flicked against her clit, his fingers worked her pussy. Her arousal built in a crescendo, and she arched her back, taking in all his hard work with a cry as she had the first of several orgasms. As one subsided, another erupted in its place. Her orgasms came and went in long, glorious waves until she finally collapsed beneath him.

Delighted, she laughed and pulled him to her until his head rested on her shoulder. She held him tight, never wanting to let him go. Far from finished, he turned over on his back and motioned for her to ride him.

His thick hair fanned out on the pillow as she sat astride him and slipped a condom over his erection. She guided him inside, rocking and bucking as her arousal once again peaked to the heights of bliss. She raked his shoulders with her fingernails as if digging into his flesh made him more real. Inhaling deeply, she took in his alluring scent. Her head spun with arousal, and her skin tingled with each stroke of his hand.

After she came yet again, he wrapped his arms around her and rolled her over onto her back. He thrust into her, deeper and harder with each stroke, and minutes after she came his orgasm exploded into her. Sweat from heat and lust coated their bodies in a soft patina.

They fell asleep in each other’s arms as if they belonged together. In the morning, Alex awakened facing away from Jackson who spooned her, one arm draped around her waist, and his legs twisted in her own.

*****

GIVEAWAY!

Make sure to follow the whole tour—the more posts you visit throughout, the more chances you’ll get to enter the giveaway. The tour dates are here: http://www.writermarketing.co.uk/prpromotion/blog-tours/currently-on-tour/elizabeth-black/

a Rafflecopter giveaway