Guest Blogger Xan West Shows Themself to Us With Their New Book Release!!!

I discovered Xan West as an e[lust] judge. Their informative, layered and sexy writing always got to the core of me. It is with a great deal of pleasure that I am the current stop for the blog tour of their new release Show Yourself to Me. Without further ado, I will let Xan show themself to you…

I wrote rough body play before I did it. I’m not talking about erotica stories. I wrote rough body play for the first time during cybersex. Cybersex was one of the first ways I started writing explicit sex, and I wouldn’t be the writer I am today without starting (and getting a hell of a lot of practice) from a place that was about getting us both off over the distance in the glow of a computer screen.

I’d gotten very excited about cybersex from reading Kate Bornstein’s and Caitlin Sullivan’s novel Nearly Roadkill (which I highly recommend, by the way, though it may be hard to get your hands on it). Right at the tail end of the chat years (when people still went onto websites to meet up in chatrooms), around 2001, I exuberantly entered the queer chatting universe, hoping to have an arena for the kind of gender play and D/s I was aching to explore.

It turns out some things are easier to translate to textual interaction than others. Folks in meatspace BDSM communities are quick to scoff about online BDSM, and they have a point about a good portion of what goes on. But there are some things that live textual interaction can create more space and ease for, especially at first. Gender play is one. And there are some kinks that you can do online and get to really beautiful hot places. Psychological play and role play being really good examples.

It’s risky to go to some places with a stranger, even over the internet. I definitely learned that in those explorations. And, there are some places you can try to go in your mind, over text, but if your body doesn’t know them…it just doesn’t even come close.

So, I was doing a dream of a pirate captain/cabin boy scene, bottoming to this hot butch in a private chatroom. It felt so visceral, so real, such a gorgeous intense exchange, that when she started the rough body play, I went with it. Even though really I had no idea what it would feel like to get punched in the chest, or kicked in the thighs. I didn’t know what boots driving me into the rough wood of the deck of a pirate ship might be like, what would happen in my body when she placed her boot on my neck and looked down at me. I just tried to imagine it: visceral, intense, jarring, hot. I guessed that it would probably make me feel so alive and aching, so full of sensation and feeling. She thought I could take it, wanted me to take it for her, and there was nothing like the confidence of a Dominant to capture my stubbornness and my sense of my own strength. I wanted to take it for her, and in this online arena, nothing could stop me from doing so.

As it turns out, my last scene as a bottom was with that very same butch. She turned out to be so damn handsome and tough and I didn’t even think to say to her that I wasn’t sure I could bottom that hard, that I didn’t know if my body could do in life what it could do in my imagination, in a chatroom at midnight. I was a novice in so many ways, and one of the things I didn’t know was what my physical limits were, how much I could take. I’d had chronic pain conditions for years and had survived a hell of a lot of bad pain. I thought if I could do that, good pain was no problem.

I wanted to take a lot of pain. Not for her, but for me. I’d emerged from an abusive D/s relationship just a few months before, and I wanted to show myself that I was tough, a survivor. And I did. For years, I could think back to that scene, to how it felt to recognize my own toughness in what was a combination of strength, endurance, and stubborn will. I could think back, and draw from witnessing my own courage, in choosing to bottom again, in choosing to bottom in this way, in choosing to take way more pain than I ever had in play before.

Against a wall, in a public dungeon, I felt the things I’d only imagined feeling when I was cybering with her imagining myself on the deck of a pirate ship in front of the whole crew. It did make me feel so damn alive, so deeply in my body, like I thought it would. I stuck my chin out and took it, and reveled in the intensity of the sensation, what it felt like to take punches and kicks, how deeply queer and gorgeous this kind of play was. How it was so close to what I’d dreamed it would be.

I was riding this amazing wave of adrenaline. All the while I was marveling at how play like this, that looked so much like violence, could feel like care and respect and joy, while something that looked like sex and sweetness could feel so much like terrifying soul-killing violence.

My skin blossomed so fucking fast. I think that’s why she called the scene, because I was so damn black and blue, so damn early. Or maybe she guessed that I was too high from the play and too fucking stubborn that I wouldn’t have done it myself. I’m not sure. I just know that she wrapped up, and that she was still so full of adrenaline, she was almost shaking.

Calling a scene is not easy on anyone. I respect her for doing it, and thinking on it now, I have so much compassion for both of us. I was not able to support her as a bottom in the ways she needed. I didn’t know how or even know it was my job to do that, had shitty models for BDSM and little education outside of books. I had orchestrated my own transformative scene, but I hadn’t given her the information she needed to be a partner with me in that. (And she hadn’t asked me much of anything, had done quick and dirty negotiation more appropriate to an experienced heavy player than a novice like me.)

I stopped bottoming after that scene. It changed me, felt like it had washed me clean, given me a touchstone memory of bottoming that was wholly different from the abuse I’d endured. So that I didn’t feel like bottoming had been stolen from me by my abusive ex. I had taken it back for myself. Stopping after that scene was a way to stop from a place of strength.

I don’t recommend this path for transformative play, or rough body play. I became a kink educator to help people find other options. I have written story after story about rough body play, transformative play, and edge play in order to offer multiple models of doing this differently from how I did it that night. Models that are more careful and mutual and caring and risk aware. Because I know that so many people, especially trauma survivors, go to sex and relationships and BDSM seeking transformation and intensity and healing. Because I want people to dream bigger than I did. To dream up ways to meet their desires that can include more trust and honesty and care for each other. To dream of ways to play where they can bring all of who they are and be recognized in the fullness of themselves.

Show Yourself To Me is a collection where tops get to be vulnerable and bottoms get to support them. Where sadists get celebrated and honored. Where submissives are recognized as strong and powerful. Where folks work hard to create arenas for pushing edges that feel like safe-enough containers. Where tops and bottoms support each other in seeking transformation through BDSM. Where queers create play that is deeply mutual, clearly negotiated, intensely intimate, and full of courageous honesty. Where you get to see the gorgeous possibilities of rough body play, from the inside.

(If you want a taste of how I write rough body play, here is an excerpt from the bottom’s point of view, and here is an excerpt from the top’s point of view.)

Book Description:

In Show Yourself to Me: Queer Kink Erotica, Xan West introduces us to pretty boys and nervous boys, vulnerable tops and dominant sadists, good girls and fierce girls and scared little girls, mean Daddies and loving Daddies and Daddies that are terrifying in delicious ways.

Submissive queers go to alleys to suck cock, get bent over the bathroom sink by a handsome stranger, choose to face their fears, have their Daddy orchestrate a gang bang in the park, and get their dream gender-play scene—tied to a sling in an accessible dungeon.

Dominants find hope and take risks, fall hard and push edges, get fucked and devour the fear and tears that their sadist hearts desire.

Within these 24 stories, you will meet queers who build community together, who are careful about how they play with power, who care deeply about consent. You will meet trans and genderqueer folks who are hot for each other, who mentor each other, who do the kind of gender play that is only possible with other trans and genderqueer folks.

This is Show Yourself to Me. Get ready for a very wild ride.

You can get your copy of Show Yourself to Me via Go Deeper Press, Amazon or Nook. And you can engage with the book on Goodreads as well!

Do not miss the other stops on the blog tour:

October 1: Xan West
October 2: Book Birthday!
October 3: Heather Elizabeth
October 4: Sinclair Sexsmith
October 5: Hermia Swann
October 6: Dilo Keith and Cecilia Tan
October 7: Kinky Brits
October 8: Stella Harris
October 9: F. Leonora Solomon
October 10: Tasha Harrison
October 11: Benji Bright
October 12: Tamsin Flowers and Karida
October 13: Cassandra Perry
October 14: Peep Scoop and Radical Access Mapping Project
October 15: Sugar Cunt
October 16: Emily Byrne
October 17: Oleander Plume
October 18: K. A. Smith
October 19: Giselle Renarde
October 20: Butchtastic Kyle
October 21: Lisabet Sarai
October 22: Syrens
October 23: Anna Sky
October 24: Jade A. Waters
October 25: Kal Cobalt
October 26: Rebekah Weatherspoon
October 27: Malin James
October 28: BD Swain and Jillian Boyd
October 29: Kaleigh Trace
October 30: Kiki DeLovely
October 31: Xan West and Annabeth Leong


Wicked Wednesday #175 — Morning

Polly was too refined to have a full out argument with Oscar that morning. Colin teased her that she looked like a flapper when she walked over to him, to avoid having that argument and especially when Eliza walked in with Rafe.Polly smiled softly at Colin, who remembered her from her goth days and when she had dressed up like little Bo Peep. Colin was the reason why she did not make a fuss about Eliza. There was always going to be a connection between her and Colin, they had imbibed each other’s blood as cocktails–how was it not going to be intense between them? Sometimes she felt like she could feel Colon’s heart beat inside his chest, and she wondered if he could feel hers as well.

But to be fair, Colin was pushing things. There had always been an open door for him usually when she was in a relationship, but with Oscar was the first time that she was trying to just be with him. Colin was giving away art that she had never thought he would give away and acquiring art she could not refuse to be in her life. The preview this morning was some of the most exquisite artwork she had ever acquired. And he would only give it to her so it moved up her status at the auction house.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Oscar look at Eliza. She had to admit that Eliza was gorgeous. The story Oscar told of picking her up in a bar, when she was engaged to the devastatingly attractive man next to her seemed a bit preposterous. Eliza and Rafe were an it couple, Polly had read about them for years in the gossip columns or seen pictures of them attending events. 

Or seen them with Rafe’s sister Fiona, during previews. She never would have guessed in a million years that she and Oscar–that she had been trying to deny her feelings for–would end up in the middle of them. Even her assistant Alice was involved, it seemed incestuous.

But then Oscar’s eyes were on hers. Dark and overpowering.

“You better go to him, no one wants an extra bloody Mary this morning,” Colin said.

Polly stuck out her tongue at him, and he licked his lips.

She turned quickly on her impossibly high heel, and walked over to Oscar.

“I need to be alone with you,” Oscar said, when she walked over to him.

“And pretend I am Eliza?” Polly asked, her arms folded across her sheer blouse and she pulled at her pearl necklace.

“Does it matter?”

Her mouth opened, but nothing came out. She hated herself, because it turned her on like hell that he would be with her and think of Eliza. 

“Go to your office, don’t let Alice follow you, and I will be there shortly.”

Oscar had a rough side, and she liked it when he played rough with her.

Polly felt desire tremor through her body, even though she looked completely composed. She almost lost it when she got to her desk. But she did not want to be in a disarray, well not before Oscar put her in one.

She was at her desk, facing the huge windows behind it looking out at the morning that had started so tumultuously and now was calming down. She felt Oscar come down the hall, and her hips shifted as she felt him walk into the room.

He closed the door behind him, before he walked to her and placed his hands on her hips. She closed her eyes and looked out at New York City spread out before her, holding onto her desk like it was New York’s hips.

She did not mind if he was thinking of Eliza because he was with her, and she knew he wanted to be. The same way she did not put her foot down about Colin, even as she knew it pissed Oscar off. Colin was her Eliza. But now she and Oscar chose to be together, they wanted to be together.

When she opened her eyes, the morning sun was high in the sky.

 More morning here:

morning by f dot leonora


Hot Off The Presses!!!

I am super excited–not one, but TWO of my articles are live today. One is on Slutist, and the other is on Kinkly

Go have a looksy, and let me know what you think…


Masturbation Monday No. 57

Graham moved the gun from within her harness slowly, licking his lips. A smile curled the corner of his mouth like a piece of burning paper curls up on the edge. Nichy barely breathed, as she looked him straight in the eye. She was not going to show a bit of fear with him because he would like it, but he would not believe it.
He knew her.
He dragged the cold steel between her breasts, along her ribs, around her navel and between her legs. He paused there, looking into her eyes harder.
“You are fucking wet, fucking wet Nusch…” he whispered quietly to himself as if she was not there, as if he could not believe it.
Nichy wanted to close her eyes, but she could not. As much as she had run from Graham, having him there now was too much to deal with. 
She remembered when she first met him. He was the ultimate bad boy, not a pretend one like the ones that she had dated in high school and college, with slicked back hair or wearing leather. He literally was involved in things that she did not know about. He looked at her, and she was done. All she could think about was relieving the itch that she felt. She wanted to caress her clit when she saw him, she was that uncomfortable with desire.
He looked at her with the same intense gaze that he looked at her with now, while caressing her clit with his gun.
His look had been intense when they met as well, they were drawn to each other like she had never been drawn to anyone. She did not hear the music or conversation in the room, she literally floated to him. He was a gentleman, even though she knew he was a rogue deep inside of her. He pulled out her chair, and kissed her hand—acted like he was afraid to touch her.
They did not make love right away, he made her feel like she was going to go crazy before he would even kiss her. Then he did kiss her, his hands on her hips and his lips hungry. Nichy, well she was Nusch then, felt every bit of his desire in his soft kiss. Graham had never had to demand anything from her, she gave him everything that she could. He kneaded her body like dough in the beginning, without any concern to her clit which jerked with need for him. She was so wet, that she felt it coat her anus.
Her anus was wet now as she rode the shaft of the gun. Graham pulled it from her, with Nichy was dizzy with desire. She saw the shaft of the gun was wet with her come, and looked at Graham with a mixture of hatred and desire.
He held the gun at her belly button, she heard it click before he put it down and looked at her. She was still as he loosened the rope about her. Nichy loved how she looked in the harness, loved that he had done it to her again.
All this time, she had been running from him, but after he untied her she swooned. Not from the tingling of her arms from having been up over her head either. She ran from Graham because she knew that she was never going to be able to stay away from him, and he was no good for her. There was nothing good that came from being with him. Her hips still moved as if she were riding the gun.
Graham slapped her breasts, and pinched her nipple so hard she cried out.
“You think I am going to give you what you want so easily? You slut, what were you about to do with that guy?”

“Gavin!” she shrieked.
“Gavin,” he copied her shriek. “My driver will drive him around until he comes to. But you were going to fuck him, weren’t you?”
 Graham stepped back from her, caressing the bulge in his pants. Nichy felt soothed because at least he was hard for her, and maybe he would give her what she wanted.
What she always wanted.
“You like that don’t you, Nusch?” he asked her.
Nichy realized that she was drooling, and she wiped the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand. She wanted Graham so bad, she was not sure what she was going to do…
…if he did not give her what she wanted.
He undid his belt, and unzipped his pants. Nichy licked her dry lips as he offered himself to her, without stepping closer.
“Crawl,” he drawled, and she did. Eyeing his shiny shoes, she heard his belt as he slipped it off but was not prepared for the sting on her back. Nichy arched, and he filled her mouth with every inch of him.
She wanted to be force fed. She wanted it so bad, she drooled and her eyes filled with tears as he shoved it into her mouth. “Sit back on your heels.”
Nichy did as Graham told her.
He left her there.
With her desire, she had forgotten how vindictive he was. He would punish her for running away for this long…

More Masturbation Monday here:


filtered cropped image of TIE ME UP by f dot leonora

Sinful Sunday, Week 234: Simple Pleasures

More simple pleasures here:



Hold Tight! Special Guest Blogger and Dear Friend, Lise Horton Takes The Reins!

It makes me happy to have Lise Horton as my guest, because she is a brilliant writer and my friend. We go way back! Her newest release, Hold Tight with Loose Id is hotter than lava and that is barely a metaphor. She is a voracious reader, I love to her talk literary to me! Read on to discover books that have inspired her, in honor of Banned Books Week…

…I was a Flower of the mountain yes when I put the rose in my hair like the Andalusian girls used or shall I wear a red yes and how he kissed me under the Moorish Wall and I thought well as well him as another and then I asked him with my eyes to ask again yes and then he asked me would I yes to say yes my mountain flower and first I put my arms around him yes and drew him down to me so he could feel my breasts all perfume yes and his heart was going like mad and yes I said yes I will Yes.
–James Joyce, Ulysses

Thinking as I do annually about Banned Books Week, I thought back to my (ahem) formative years, literarily speaking, and had an epiphany about what I love to read, and especially what I love to write.

From Ulysses to Fifty Shades, books have most often been banned not because of the violence they depict. Not for political reasons. Not because they foment bigotry or hatred. But because they depict S-E-X. Obscenity, or as the famous judge quipped, “I know it when I see it” – which to me is purely subjective personal judgement. Sex in literature is treated as something nasty, something to be hidden away, lest it corrupt us; when, in fact, depictions of adult human sexuality are based on, guess what: the real thing! That sort of important (and fun) activity we all participate in. Birds do it, bees do it and hello! Guys and gals do it, too! With great regularity. And amazing ingenuity.

As an author of kinky erotica and erotic romance I have come to discover that it was reading all manner of banned, salacious and graphic books, along with many others in my youth, that has led me to the balanced place I am today as a writer.

Some naughty tales I first partook of were historical epics by an author lost in the mists of my brain, but I later happened upon works by Anais Nin, Erica Jong, Henry Miller and Marilyn French’s The Women’s Room, in all their carnal glory. I devoured feminist tracts by Kate Millet and Simone de Beauvoir, along with earnest books like Everything You Always Wanted to Know About Sex and Our Bodies, Ourselves.

And into this cerebral cauldron went early romances, from Mary Stewart’s romantic suspense novels to the gothics of Victoria Holt. Books that hinted at attraction and love, but kept the bedroom door closed as tightly as could be. At a pivotal moment I read Love Story and there was no turning back!

What emerged from my odd amalgam of reading material was the magical spirit of frankness, romance and sexual curiosity that gave rise to my writing today. Writing where anything goes (as long as it is legal!) I am a feminist who believes that depicting a submissive woman in a BDSM relationship does not, in fact, go against my beliefs. A character choosing her path, sexually or otherwise, in pursuit of happiness and satisfaction, is a feminist in my mind. And adding romance to the mix is not dumbing down the human sexual experience, but rather projecting what so many of us yearn for – a trustworthy companion to share our life who happens to be as hungry for our body, as for our mind, or our heart, and soul. Rounding out the mix is the earthy carnality and unfettered lust that is part and parcel of the human condition. When not burdened with others’ mores as to what is “right” or “acceptable” men and women explore their sexual selves with great freedom. Happier and more accepting of others because of their understanding of themselves.

A wonderful mantra in the BDSM community is “My kink may not be your kink, but your kink is okay.” And “safe, sane and consensual” is a wonderful credo for everyone (vanilla or not so much) that urges us to look at the world around us and demand that adults get to go for their sexy gusto without censure or condemnation*. And that goes for what we want to read, as well!

It makes me smile to remember my favorite expression growing up – one which embarrassed my mother beyond belief.

“Whatever blows your skirt up!”

And would you look at that! I’ve grown into an author who writes exactly what blows my own way, way up – and hopefully, yours too. With that in mind, I’d like to urge everyone to turn themselves on.

In honor of Banned Books Week, read a dirty book today!

She felt every stroke, every sensation, as he possessed her completely. His hands gripped her thighs, holding her steady so he could force his way in as deep as possible. The stretching of tissues, the friction, the pain, the possession, his words, his grunts and growls barreled up and up, and everything began to tighten and coil deep inside, like a spring, poised to fly, to send her into an orgasm so monstrous she might not survive.
–Lise Horton, Hold Tight

* I advocate sexual freedom only among consenting adults. I do not condone fetishes that fall into the realm of abuse, pedophilia, bestiality, etc.

I know you enjoyed Lise’s passage from Hold Tight, click on your preferred format below to get your copy!

Amazon Kindle
Apple iBooks
B&N Nook Books
All Romance E-Books


Wicked Wednesday #174 — Revisiting

Oscar stood across from Polly, she looked beautiful but severe. Alice had stared between them, so he knew it was tense enough that she felt it as well. But Alice had gone to get coffee for them. They had not opened the viewing for the public, but Colin was there. Colin lingered by a DuBuffet, one of the several pieces that he had in the sale and he also lingered around Polly.
So Oscar stood across from Polly, and wanted to be angry. Wanted to show he was angry that Colin was there, that he was always there. He was convinced Colin acquired the pieces so that he could sell them to her.
Yet he could not say a word, and he knew that she knew it. Colin was her Eliza basically. Polly let him go see Eliza, without questioning him because he explained the nature of their relationship. Even though the last time that he saw Eliza, he wanted to sleep with her. He didn’t though, and came home to Polly. Right after that, there was Colin like a shadow all the time. Polly had not planned it to be vindictive, half of the sale was his pieces. Including the star Modigliani that Colin now circulated around.
“Here is your coffee,” Alice said.
Polly smiled, and took a sip.
“This is Oscar’s,” Polly smiled at him, and licked a bit of foam from her lip.
Oscar took the cup, continuing to stare at Polly as he sipped.
“Thank you,” he said with a delay, monitoring Polly’s eyes.
And then the energy in the room changed like lightning.
Alice moved like lightning when she saw Fiona. Oscar smiled, thinking about the ease with which Fiona and Alice connected. But seeing Fiona put him on alert. First he saw Rafe, and then he saw Eliza.
Eliza’s eyes were filled with hunting for him as well. Her dark hair was pulled up messily in a bun that still looked elegant nonetheless.
But when she put her hand to her face, he was startled to see the familiar diamond on her finger. When he met her at the bar, the ring was prominent to him but he did not let it deter him from getting closer to her. Her eyes fell on him as he revisited that night in his head. The not knowing if she was going to go with him, the first time he touched her…
They looked at each other for a long moment, before he caught himself. When he turned to look at 
Polly, she was staring at Eliza. Polly looked at him briefly, then looked at Colin.
“Go say hello to your Eliza,” Polly said coolly, not looking at him.
Polly cocked her head to the side, and Colin walked over to her.
“You are covering one of my best paintings Polly,” he said, his hands on her hips to move her out of the way.
Oscar went to tap him on the shoulder, but the look on Polly’s face made him think otherwise. So he leaned there, and watched Colin. Colin moved his hands from her hips, and talked about Dubuffet.
It was not until the cocktail party that night, that he actually spoke to Eliza. She stood by the bar, staring at her fiancé.
“Waiting again like if for Godot?” Oscar asked, his tongue swirling around a cocktail onion.
“Where is your girlfriend?” Eliza said.
“Further away than your fiancé…” Oscar’s voice trailed, and he realized the unintentional double entendre in what he said.
He did not know where his fiancée was, but he knew where Eliza was…

More revisiting here:


cocktail onion via google images

IMG_0419 (1)

Masturbation Monday No. 56

Nichy closed her eyes when she saw Tyler outside of the bar. She was pretty sure that her face was contorted with desire, and Tyler stared at her.
“Renee is in there, and I am not sure what is going on with the two of you,” Nichy started, turning to Gavin. “It might not be a good idea.”
Tyler stared at her for a long moment, then looked at Gavin who had his arm about her waist protectively.
“I am not going to run from Renee, I did not do anything wrong to her.”
“Tyler, Nichy is right,” Gavin said, looking at Nichy. “Renee is in a bad way, you might want to rethink that.”
“Thanks for the warning, but it is a free country and I am going to have a drink.”
Tyler walked past them, into the bar.
Nichy looked at Gavin. Gavin’s eyes were dark, filled with emotions that scared her and made her even wetter. She squeezed his hand.
“We have to go back in there. It is going to be a mess if we leave them alone.”
“It is not really our business Nichy, we have our own business to attend to and I cannot wait a minute longer…for you…”

Nichy looked down at his shoes, and felt herself clench with desire.
“I just want to prevent having to hear about it for a really long time Gavin. If I don’t, she is going to need to tell me. Which means coming to my place…or something.”
“So we will go to my place…”
Gavin caressed her backside with urgency, and she was just about to turn with him…when Renee ran out of the bar, holding one of her stilettos in her hand. But before her barefoot touched the sidewalk, Tyler grabbed her arm.
“Nichy!” she yelled, pulling away from Tyler. “Nichy, can I go with you and Gavin?”
Nichy turned to look at Gavin.

With her face buried in Gavin’s sleeve, Nichy tried to avoid Renee and Tyler making out on her couch. She and Gavin sat across from them, her hands in fists between her legs.
Nichy kissed the cotton of his sleeve, and her own breath warmed her lips. Gavin flinched like her mouth was fire.
“So I guess you two have made up?” Gavin said, with undisguised sarcasm.
Nichy liked this more aggressive side of Gavin, as Renee and Tyler looked at him. Tyler put Renee’s hand, between his thighs.
“I told you not to worry about us.” Tyler said, as Renee licked her lips and stared at them before she licked his cheek.
They kissed again as if Nichy and Gavin were not there, before Tyler stood up and Renee got up with him. He kissed her hand, before he smiled at Nichy and Gavin.
“I guess we should go,” he said.
Nichy stood up, and followed them to the door. Her heart sunk, as Gavin walked ahead of them.
“See you,” Gavin whispered in her ear, chewing on it just a bit. “And don’t you dare touch yourself before I do.”
Nichy looked at him mournfully, and nodded.
“Have a good night Nichy,” Tyler smiled knowingly at her.
Nichy closed her door knowing that Renee and Tyler were probably going to fuck in the backseat of a taxi.
And she promised Gavin that she would not touch herself.
When she closed the door, she pressed herself to it and a knock on the door vibrated through her as if someone had directly touched her clit.
She turned, and looked through the peephole.
When she opened the door, he closed it behind her and pressed her up against it.
She felt his hard length pressed against her and looked up at him, caressing the stubble on his cheek. Quickly, she unbuttoned his shirt and pressed her palms against his nipples. Her hands rested on his stomach, before she unbuckled his belt. The click of his belt, echoed in her ear as she unfastened his dress pants.
It was not the echo of his belt though, she soon realized as she felt a familiar coolness press at the small of her back.
She stopped breathing.
The last time she felt that chill, she was having sex with someone and she was terrified. But she never thought that she would have the same experience more than once.
“You did not call me back baby, and you know that I do not like to be ignored…” Nichy froze at the familiar intruder’s voice.
Nichy normally checked inside of her apartment, when she did not walk in with so many people. And with Gavin being there, and with the heaviness of desire she felt, she had not thought…
Nichy was frozen as she was pushed back to the wall. Gavin was hit with the butt of the gun that had been on her back. His blood was frozen in her thoughts as he fell to he floor, and she dropped onto her knees over him. Blood was on her fingers, and she absently brought them to her face before she blacked out…

Nichy woke up in a body harness, she could see her bound reflection in the mirror. Her chest was heavy with the gun that was bound there. She was completely naked, and Graham stared at her. When he called her the other night, she had hoped that he was not going to be able to find her.
How could she have been so naive to think that he was not going to find her? She had been running from him for such a long time, but she knew he was going to find her eventually…
“Now I have got you my pretty,” he said, caressing the gun against her chest.

More Masturbation Monday here:


cropped version of TIE ME UP cover via f dot leonora

Sinful Sunday, Week 233: Flesh


More Sinful Sunday here:



My (First) Sexy Saturday for their 100th Blog Post Anniversary!!!

I love a good logo, and when I saw the one for My Sexy Saturday, I knew that I would have to join in. And on what better day than their 100th blog post anniversary!

The story that I have picked is an excerpt from my anthology, Hot Summer Flings. I came up with the idea for the anthology on an ungodly hot summer day. I wrote the story based on my neighbor in Paris, who kept smoking in our non-smoking hotel.

And that is where the similarity ends!

“I am leaving in the morning, I’m going home to London.”
“I am in Paris for a few more days.”
“For pleasure?”
“For pleasure.”
“I want to give you some pleasure to compensate for the displeasure I caused by smoking.”
“It was not that displeasurable. I’m just a New Yorker, and I guess kind of like the Wizard of Oz I should realize I am not in New York anymore–”
Then she did not know where she was anymore, he kissed her and she knew they were going to but the charge she felt from that kiss finally coming to fruition…And not even on her mouth, his kiss on her hand that he took suddenly, and then her cheek near her jaw and close to her mouth but not there…

The complete story is in Hot Summer Flings.


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