book release

Guest Blogger Rose C. Carole Caters To Our Needs!!!

I met Rose C. Carole at BDSM Writers Con, which I wrote about and have pictures of. She is one of the organizers of the event–which I cannot wait to return to next year! At the time, she told me about Catering to His Needs. I was salivating–I mean food and kinky sex? This is the stuff (my) dreams are made of! I invited Rose to promote then and there, and here she is! 

I want to thank Leonora for generously allowing me to guest on her blog and promote my new book. I met her at the BDSM Writers Con in New York City last August and it was great to get to know her.

Writing about BDSM is a challenge. For those unfamiliar with the lifestyle but are intrigued by it, it is difficult to make them understand how people engaging in what appears to be dangerous and abusive behavior are actually creating a very intimate connection. I think the element that transcends everything is showing passion. Everyone understands passion.

For my new series Kitchen Confessions, it was my goal to create a world of characters most readers could relate to and then show how BDSM could play a role in it. As much as I love a good billionaire story, I wanted to bring the dynamic to a more down-to-earth level—exploring how it would look with people pursuing careers, raising families, juggling all the other demands that life brings everyday—and figuring out how to create passion in the midst of all that chaos.

The first book, Catering to His Needs, is all about how family can be the deterrent to finding new love. The book blurb reads

Ethan is at his wit’s end. Gina, his brother’s ex-wife, has threatened to reveal that Ethan is a member of the Playground, an exclusive BDSM club, unless she gets more alimony from the family trust fund. The scandal that would arise from such a revelation must be avoided at all costs–not only for the sake of Ethan’s reputation, but for the future of his relationship with his treasured sub, Rebecca. 

Rebecca is a single mother working hard to expand her catering business. The only peace she finds from her building stress is in the handcuffs of her strong Dom, Ethan. But Rebecca’s life is not her own. Her teenage son is not handling Rebecca’s divorce well, and Rebecca feels the responsibility for her son’s happiness like a weight on her shoulders. Between her business and her son, she has little time for herself–or the growing emotional demands from her Dom.

Ethan is determined to take their relationship to the next level, and Rebecca is equally determined not to upset her son further by revealing that she has a new man in her life. Fortunately, Ethan is a Dom with a passionate interest in seeing that his sub is happy–even if he has to whip some sense into her. He’s making progress until suddenly his own problems take a turn for the worse. His brother Zach has gone missing under suspicious circumstances and now it’s all Ethan can do just to keep himself out of jail. The cat, as they say, is out of the bag.

As their lives spiral out of control, will Ethan and Rebecca be able to find a way back into each other’s arms?


He heard her car come up the lane and went to meet her. He directed her to a spot where she wouldn’t block him in if they wanted to go out during the weekend and approached. He walked up to the car, opened her door, then took her hand and helped her out. He embraced her and gave her a quick kiss.

She looked delicious in a simple blue sundress that brought out the blue in her eyes, which at the moment looked that deep azure color he recognized when she was full of expectation, confirmed by her half smile. Good. She would play right into his plans.

“Welcome to my home. I’m so glad you could make it.”

“Me too. I’ve been looking forward to it all week.” She regarded him shyly through her long lashes.

“Our D/s dynamic starts right now, Rebecca. Give me your car keys, then get out your uniform. I’ll bring the rest of your things into the house. I want you to go around back into the fenced area. You will find your instructions on the bench. Once you follow them, I will meet you there.”

A momentary look of panic crossed her face and he wasn’t sure she was going to do what he’d asked. But he didn’t push her at this point. He needed her to go willingly, so he just waited until she squared her shoulders and calmed herself.

“Yes, Sir,” she finally said in a clear voice.

“That’s my girl,” he assured her. “Now go.”

She proceeded to the back gate, and he set about collecting her small suitcase, the knife roll and the bags of groceries she had brought. Once inside, he put the perishables into the fridge, glancing out of the window on a regular basis to make sure she was okay. Then he left the house, cloaking himself in his serious Dom mode. He had a point to make, and he wanted to make sure she understood how important it was that she got it.

* * * *

Rebecca stood looking at the paper grasped in her trembling fingers. I can do this, she told herself. Ethan wouldn’t allow her to expose herself to strangers, but she still looked around furtively to make sure no one was looking.

She read the words again.


Put on your uniform.

Put the larger cuffs on your ankles.

Put the smaller cuffs on your wrists.

Place your clothes, your cell and purse in the metal box under the bench and secure it shut.

Once you have done all of the above, turn the paper over.

Taking a deep breath to calm herself, she slowly took off her clothes and folded them carefully on the bench then put on the garter belt, stockings and black stilettos she had brought. After securing the cuffs on her wrists and ankles, she put her clothes and purse into the box and shut it. Another deep breath—and another. Then she turned over the paper.

Take the end of the chain on the fence and secure it around your neck with the attached lock.

Oh, my God, really? They had a whole weekend to explore their Dom/sub relationship, and needless to say, it was starting off with a bang. Well, she had wanted to delve into their dynamic more fully than for just an evening. She sure got what she’d asked for—a challenge every step of the way. Her whole body shook and she had to take some more deep breaths to calm herself down. Then she walked over to the narrow chain tethered to the fence, secured the loose end around her neck with the small padlock and sat quickly down on the bench to keep from falling over her trembling legs. And she waited—and waited.

Find out more about Rose via her website: , and get your copy of Catering to His Needs below!!!



Totally Bound Website 

The End of an Era: Tamsin Flowers Tantalizes with Alchemy xii One Last Time…

This year Mad Men had its series finale, and now? Tamsin FlowersAlchemy xii series has reached its final chapter–I really cannot say much more…I am letting Tamsin take over!!!

Alchemy xii – December: It’s the end of an era…

First of all, thank you, F Dot, for having me over today – I love your blog, so it’s a great thrill to be able to come and visit it!

It probably hasn’t escaped your notice that today’s December 1. It certainly hasn’t escaped mine, because it’s a day of beginnings and endings for me. As the first day of December, it’s the first day of my annual Superotica Advent Calendar – there’ll be a new story by a different writer every day over on my blog until the 24th. But sadly, it’s also the end of an era for me, as today sees the publication of the final episode of my Alchemy xii serial, Alchemy xii – December. Sniff. Excuse me while I wipe a tear from my eye.

Harry and Olivia, the two central characters in this epic BDSM club saga, first saw the light of day in December last year when I published the very first instalment, and intrepid readers have been following their exploits ever since. Today’s episode will tie up all the loose ends and bring the story of the two protagonists to its final conclusion.

So how do I feel? Sad and relieved in equal measure – there are things I’ll miss about publishing an ongoing series and things I won’t!

Things I’ll miss about Alchemy xii:

  • Harry Lomax. If ever I’ve fallen in love with one of my own characters, it’s Harry. He’s such a charming rascal, it’s no wonder literally no-one can resist him.
  • My beautiful cover images by White Room.
  • The slightly panicky feeling I get when I think I’m not going to manage to finish the next episode on time.
  • The wonderful support of my three beta readers, Malin James, Delilah Night and Jade A Waters – not that they’re going anywhere – they’re wonderful friends as well.
  • The excited tweets from the series’ fans when they realise a new episode has arrived in their in-box.

Things I won’t miss about Alchemy xii:

  • The slightly panicky feeling I get when I think I’m not going to manage to finish the next episode on time.
  • Editing and proof reading – though as a writer, I’ll never escape from those two!
  • Formatting each episode. It’s not hard but it is boring.
  • Confronting my failures as a marketer.
  • Readers who let me know in no uncertain terms how irresponsible I am not to make my characters wear condoms. (As if I have any control over them!)
  • Raf Castro!

If you haven’t read any of the Alchemy series, you’ll need to start all the way back at Alchemy xii – New Year’s Eve, but for those of you who’ve been following the story, here’s a short snippet from Alchemy xii – December to whet your appetite.



Harry came to my apartment, just a few days after I’d topped him. He didn’t announce himself—just turned up at the door, clutching a little black velvet bag.

“Hello, darling,” he said, sweeping in and backing me up against the wall for a kiss, in which we lost ourselves.

But finally I had to know what he was doing here.

“I brought these,” he said, holding up the black bag. “They came in the post today, and I couldn’t wait to try them out on you. They’ll be just your cup of tea.”

“What are they?”

He pulled open the bag’s drawstrings and shook it over his hand. Small silver clamps scattered across his palm, jingling like loose change.

“Clamps. For your tits and your clit, and your labia. And wherever else on your anatomy I choose to attach them.”

Excitement, hot and wet, bubbled through me.


“Yes, now, you greedy girl.”

He wasted no time in divesting me of my clothes. Then he laid me flat on my back on my bed, while he, still fully dressed, knelt above me.

“I think I need to tie you up for this,” he said. “Otherwise you could flick them off as quickly as I put them on.”

I grinned.  “I wouldn’t want to.”

But he insisted and I was delighted. It would make it a whole lot better if I was restrained. Pain is always better when my wrists are bound. He tied me up quickly and then grabbed his bag of clamps. First, he applied two of them to my nipples. The pressure was strong and the pain deliciously sharp. Nipple clamps were practically my favorite thing and Harry usually kept a pair of them in his jeans pocked whenever he saw me. But having a row of clamps attached slowly, one by one, to my labia? What a revelation.

I relaxed back into the pain, letting the tension flow out of my body as the intense physical sensation cleared my mind. I murmured my approval and Harry bestowed a quick kiss on my clit before carrying on. It sent a delicious shiver through my core. I closed my eyes and arched my back as I became more and more aroused. When I moved, I heard a soft tinkling as the steel clamps skittered up against each other. When each of my outer labia was adorned with metal, Harry applied some to my inner lips. The pain was way sharper as the flesh was thinner. I gasped, my breathing now labored. I was so ready to climax that it would only have taken the softest touch to my clit. But Harry was nothing if not diabolical, and with a snap, he attached a clamp there instead. I shrieked and when he shoved two fingers inside me to massage my g-spot, I exploded. An orgasm barrel-rolled through me, as sweet and sharp as the pain from the clamps.

“Damn,” said Harry. “You came much too quick.”

“It was lovely,” I sighed.

“So now I’ve got to take them all off again.”

“Leave them on for a bit,” I said. “It’s heavenly.”

“Oh, Liv, you always say exactly the right thing at the right moment. I rise to the challenge of making you come again.”

It wasn’t difficult. Nor for the third or fourth time. Admittedly, to make me come for the fifth time, he did have to remove the clamp from my poor squished clit and give it a bit of tongue love. But we got there.

“Now take them off,” I said. When you want clamps on you want them on, but when you’ve had enough, they can’t come off fast enough. “Quick.”

If you have not been reading, I recommend that you start with Alchemy xii – New Year’s Eve like Tamsin said, and work your way up to Alchemy xii – December !!!

Guest Blogger (and Friend) Kayla Lords Shares Her New Release Sir & Babygirl !!!

I am delighted to have Kayla Lords back as my guest! The last time she was here, we had cake and celebrated the one-year anniversary of Masturbation Monday. She is back to share the release of her newest (and of course sexy as hell) new release Sir and Babygirl: Family Ties–the third in the series following Sir and Babygirl and Sir and Babygirl: Bound by Love. And yes, you can judge the book by its cover…let me let Kayla tell you more…

I’ve got nothin’ but mad love for Leonora (who I keep thinking of as “F Dot” – I really need to stop that crap!) so when she asked me to come visit again, of course I said yes! I also batted my eyelashes and asked very sweetly if I could share my newest release with everyone.

Actually, I think the exact phrase use was “pimpin’” but that’s me being sweet. Ha!


My latest release is the third in a series I now refer to simply as Sir and Babygirl. Each book focuses on a different part of their relationship, and each chapter is meant to stand alone. As you go through each book, you see their relationship development over time – and a lot of personal growth for a certain babygirl submissive – but I didn’t write it in a traditional romance novel format. Weird, I know. Blame it on my blogging roots. I like definite beginnings and endings when I write, and I have a short attention span with stories. (Sad but true.)

Anyway, these two are kinky people who live the BDSM lifestyle and have developed a Dominance and submission (D/s) relationship. So yes, there’s romance and relationships, but there’s a LOT of kinky sex, spankings, and both forced and denied orgasms.

The characters may or may not be based on my own relationship. Okay, it kind of is. The details and situations are different, but the personalities are a bit of us. (Oh, and not to spoil anything, a friend and reader asked if the ending of book 3 – Family Ties – had happened in real life yet. The answer is no.)

On to Sir and Babygirl: Family Ties (Book 3) which focuses on the most dreaded part of most relationships – meeting and getting to know their families!


Johnathan is ready to take his relationship with Katie to a whole new level. His kids are away at college, and his sister has moved out. After months together, discovering their love and a D/s relationship as Sir and Babygirl that works for them, it’s time to meet the extended family.

Will Babygirl be able to move past her own anxieties? Can they survive the expectations of their families? And what happens to Sir and Babygirl next? Find out in the third set of adventures between a loving Dominant man and his willing and eager Babygirl.


Snaking an arm around her middle, he grabbed her mound and squeezed. She whimpered in response. The pain in her backside allowed her to ignore the swollen damp feeling coming from between her thighs.


That one word sent spasms through her body. Oh yes, she was his. Every part of her was his. She desperately hoped he’d claim his property. Now, before the door bell rang and their vanilla life intruded.

He pushed one finger into her slit.

“You’re soaking wet, girl. Such a slut.”

She moaned in response.

In and out, in and out, his finger stroked the deepest parts of her body. It felt good, but it wasn’t enough. She wanted more.

“Don’t fidget, girl. I know what you need.”

With the smallest of movements, she nodded her understanding. He’d given her what she’d asked for, now he was going to take what he wanted. In the end, they’d both be satisfied.

The tip of his finger began to make small circles over her clitoris. Small, slow circles. Heat and pressure began to build. When she moved against his hand, he stopped and stroked her slit, slipping a finger into her body. Once she was still, he moved back to her clit.

Patience was required, and he was going to teach it to her one way or another. The circles came faster. Her juices coated the swollen nub, allowing his hand to move with greater ease. The pressure built higher and faster. A line of fluid trickled down the inside of her thigh. Her desire so high it could no longer be contained by her body.

He laughed against her ear. Yes, now, please. But he wasn’t ready to stop his game. Not yet.

Thrusting two fingers deep inside her pussy, he found her innermost tender spot. Hooking his fingers, he began a familiar tap-tap-tap motion. Babygirl trembled from head to toe. Her head fell back against his shoulder. Cries and whimpers filled the air around them. She was going to come and soon but she knew instinctively if she begged or asked for release it would be denied.

Just as her body began to convulse around his hand, he stopped and pulled away. An empty feeling deep inside caused her to groan. Dark laughter was the only response. A chuckle and his touch on her clit again. Hissing between gritted teeth, she tightened every muscle in her body, desperate to hold back the looming orgasm until he granted his permission…

You know you want to read more! 

Purchase Links:


Barnes & Noble



About Kayla Lords

Kayla is a full-time writer, sex blogger, erotic author, and babygirl submissive. When she’s not writing about BDSM from her perspective, she’s coming up with kinky sex scenes and waiting for her own Dominant to give her a much-needed spanking.

Follow Kayla on Twitter (@KaylaLords) or over at her website ( where there’s always something kinky to read.

Doubling Your Pleasure With Where I Found My Heart by C. E. Hansen!!!

Sooooo happy to have my friend, fellow Chemical Sex author (and chocolate lover!) C. E. Hansen on my blog today!!! She is a fantastic writer with an amazing new book, Where I Found My Heart. And she is generous too! She gave me not one, not two, but THREE excerpts from the book to share with you! Enjoy!


Reny unable to face life head on, effectively shut out the world beyond her windows. Closing off anything that would remind her of her past – a smile, a laugh, a touch. She lived in a world of pain and sorrow, remaining safe in her cocoon, barely existing.

Libby was plagued by a desperate need to comfort Reny, needing to help her heal. Knowing without Reny’s recovery, she herself would not find peace.

Mark was searching for someone, he didn’t know who, but felt a strong need, a determination to keep looking…he had to find her.

Three people…three worlds collide, leaving behind the true path to happiness. Maybe you just have to say goodbye before you can say hello…


I learned real fast the pain is mine. All mine and will stay with me, whether I want it to or not. And no one, and I mean, no one, will or could ‘shoulder’ it at anytime. It’s mine. I paid for it and I own it.

I’m okay with owning it. What I’m not okay with is why.

Why did it have to be Dylan?

Why couldn’t it have been someone else, anyone, even one of those who wanted to shoulder it? One of those assholes who pretended to be heroes.

You don’t know how many times I wanted to say ‘You know…that’s a good idea. I wish you could take the pain. I wish you were dead instead of him.’ But those words never left the tip of my tongue. Instead they stayed there, lingering, turning sour like bile in the back of my throat. Simmering into a stew of malevolence until I had nothing nice to say to anyone…about anything.

Damn you Dylan. Why did you leave me?

I swiped at my tears. Still amazed I had any left after so many countless swipes.

“I’m so tired Dylan.” My words drifted up into the ether.

I left the half drank coffee cup on the table, stood and before I knew it, I was back in bed, under the blanket wishing I could fade away, disappear into sleep.

I rolled over and my eyes immediately fixated on the pill bottle prominently standing on the surface of nightstand and right next to it a gold band.

“Fuck you.”

They both had a power over me. I needed them to remind me of what I was, who I was. Those little blue pills were the only thing I had that could dull the ache. Lessen the emptiness, and the band…well, that’s why I needed the little blue pills.


He traced the bottom of my bra with his fingers until he got to the center. Then he slowly—achingly slow—walked them up until he reached my nipples, which were tightening into oversensitive nubs.

I took a deep breath, trying hard to get air into my lungs so my head would stop spinning.

“Jesus Dylan.”

He pulled me back to him, until my body was against his and I could feel him conform to me.

His body actually molded to mine.

It was hot as hell.

He was hot as hell.

It was like we were one. I really think sometimes we were.

“No, just Dylan. Or sugar lips, or honey pie.”

I laughed out loud.

“You are so corny sometimes. You sound like a character in Gone with the Wind or something.”

“I do, don’t I?”

He cupped my breasts, and I immediately put down the spoon I was stirring the sauce with, and turned around to face him.

His eyes literally twinkled and I almost lost it. His amazing, light hazel orbs with the golden specks surrounded by thick dark lashes were my undoing. No. Actually, it was that damned smile of his. Gut punched me every time he used it. And he used it a lot.

“I think you need a break.”

“Oh, do I?”

“Yeah, you been slaving over that stove for um…” He overzealously looked at his watch, “twenty minutes now. I think you deserve a break.”

“Mmmm. I think you’re right.”




“Can you do that thing you do?”

I smiled. I was pretty sure I knew what he was referring to, but I was going to make him say it.

“What thing is that exactly?”

“You know.”

“No. I do a lot of things. Which ‘thing’ are you referring to?”

“The one where you put your mouth…”

I blushed. Yes, I still blush, but quickly recovered.

“Oh that thing.” I smiled.

Before he could ask again I scooted down to the end of the sofa and unzipped his jeans. He was musky from working out in the sun all day, but it was sexy. You know? It was sexy. It was Dylan and I’d take him any way I could get him.

He quickly stopped me from lowering his jeans, but moaned. I felt his erection under my fingers.

“Why are you stopping me?”

“I need to shower for that ‘thing’”

“Then what ‘thing’ did you mean exactly?”

“The thing where you lay on top of me and let me hold you close.”

“Oh, that thing.” I was as confused as you are now. I crawled back up his muscular body and lay my body over his. He crushed me to him with his strong arms and I sighed. I felt him kiss the top of my head and inhale deeply.

“Love the way you smell.”


He squeezed me.

“Love the way you feel.”

“Mmmm.” I was liking this.

“Love the way you feel against me.”

“Me too.”

I listened to his chest and heard his heart beat quicken. But not soon enough…and I wasn’t prepared. In one smooth move, he stood up, tossed me over his shoulder like I was a sack of potatoes, and walked with me squirming into the bedroom, then through to the bathroom. He leaned inside and turned the water on. All the while I’m flailing and yelling. Then he carried me, fully dressed—so was he—into our large shower and let the water cascade over both of us. I screamed then laughed so loud I was afraid I woke the dead.


He laughed, as only he could, and believe me, it was contagious.

“Oh, you!” I cried out in feigned indignity.

“You got me thinking.”



“Bout what?”

“Bout your offer.”

“What offer…” Oh, I got it. “And you thought you’d bring me in the shower with you so I can do what I offered.”

“Figured I’d kill two birds.”

“Oh, and how did you figure that?”

“I figured I’d help you with the laundry too.”


Wanna read more? Get your copy of Where I Found My Heart here:

Visit the Where I Found My Heart Goodreads page as well!

Happy (Book Release) Birthday Rachel Kramer Bussel from me & Guest Blogger Erzabet Bishop!!!

I am very happy to have Erzabet Bishop as my guest to help me celebrate the Dirty Dates book release, and my friend Rachel Kramer Bussel‘s birthday! Erzabet had me from polka dots…and she will have you too…

It’s release day for Dirty Dates and a very special birthday. My editor Rachel Kramer Bussel is gonna have the hottest party ever. I just know it. Maybe it will be clothing optional… I was asked by the amazing Leonora Solomon to write a little bit about my motivation for pretty things with a vintage kick and well…let’s start this party off with a bang.

Happy birthday Rachel. You rock, babe!

Beautiful things and people have always attracted me. Glam shots and pin up girls in particular. There is something artful about their knowing glances and suggestive smiles. Perfection under glass that you want to reach out and touch. But you don’t. Not without permission. You might get your hand slapped or a flogger to your backside.

Mmmm. A sexy thought…

My story in Dirty Dates is just such a tale. “Polka Dot Dress” is centered on Vintage Night at a local BDSM club. The main character Justine is gearing up for a hot interlude with her girl. Red lipstick (another fetish of mine and if you check out my Pinterest page you’ll see what I mean), a polka dot dress and some kick ass heels complete the look. Something decidedly surprising hides beneath Justine’s feminine frippery, and she can’t wait to show it to her girl. Ameliah waits for her lover, clad in a see-through dress, just itching for the punishment she knows is coming…

This story was so much fun to write. I like a dose of pretty with an edge. A dominant female who can take charge of a situation, and not be afraid to be a woman at the same time. Vintage looks personify that very thing. You don’t see the look often enough. Whether it is a female/female pairing or a male/female (or ménage for that matter) tryst I love exploring the power dynamics behind a woman being in charge. The thing I have found with my many conversations with people in the lifestyle is this–being a Domme is a responsibility and you are not necessarily the one with all the power either. The submissive calls the shots. Most people don’t get that unless you are in the know. It is a balance and one that can’t be forced by wearing mile high boots and wielding a whip. There has to be caring and trust involved. If you are the dominant partner, you act with the other person in mind always. Sort of like marriage. It’s a commitment. A choice.

Lately I have been writing a lot about Dommes and how they relate to the women and men in their lives. In my story Crave coming out from All Romance e-books in December (Pre-orders start on November 15th), I have a woman who was victimized by a serial rapist turned killer, but comes back to find her perfect place between two men. I found myself in tears more than once writing it. One Mistress. One Master. One submissive. Three makes a family. It is a police procedural ménage novella, and I can’t wait to see what you think.


In January, I have a new series starting based on the premise of this very story. A Cinderella tale of a missing Prince Charming and the two women who want him in their bed. But his former Mistress may not be ready to let him go. The war is on…The title is called Red Hot, and it is book one of the Sapphire Masquerade trilogy. It all came about due to working with Rachel, and wading deeper into the pool of erotic romance. In a vanilla world, sometimes there has to be a little bit of naughty. Dirty, pretty things make my heart ache with wonder and keep me writing into the night.

Happy reading…


Erzabet Bishop

Excerpt from “Polka Dot Dress”

“What do you think? Falsies or mascara?”

Sorcha stood up and eyed the makeup tray. “Oh God. The last time I wore those damned things one fell in my drink.” She shuddered. “Here. Wear this one.” Sorcha handed Justine a tube of lash exploding black mascara. “It’ll make your lashes look bigger without having something looking like a fake spider on your face. You didn’t answer my question.”

Justine aimed the wand at her eye and paused. “If I don’t answer, you can deny all knowledge if she asks you when she comes home with me tonight.” She applied the mascara. “You didn’t glue the falsies down enough. They aren’t supposed to fall off like that.” She chuckled. “Besides, it’s only Pin-Up Night, not a beauty contest.” And then next week I’ll be back in my leathers.

“And how do you know?” Sorcha narrowed her eyes. “Jeez woman. I go to clubs in girl wear more than you do.” Sorcha’s gaze grew pensive. “So, are you going to spill about the sudden change in, um style? You could put a rockabilly chick in a permanent coma with the way that polka dot dress is clinging to your boobs. ”

“That’s the point, chica.” Justine winked. She reached for the tray of lipstick Sorcha brought out and paused, undecided. “What color?”

“Oh. Go for this one. The wine red will rock the red in the dress. And those kick ass shoes.” Sorcha picked out a shiny silver tube. “Here. Try it.”

Justine uncapped the tube and set the top on the tray. The lipstick popped up and she slid the sensual red color over her lips in a deliberate swipe.  “How’s that?” She made a moue with her lips and blinked her eyes.

“Hussy.” Sorcha giggled. “Okay. So I won’t ask. You look like you should be baking cookies in someone’s kitchen.”

Justine grinned.  “Now there’s something.”

Erzabet Bishop is an award winning author who loves to write naughty stories. She is the author of Lipstick, Dinner Date, Crave, The Science of Lust, Arcane Imaginarium: Spirit Board, Holidays in Hell, Mallory’s Mark (upcoming 2016),The Devil’s Due (upcoming 2016), Charity Benshaw’s Enchanted Paddle Emporium
(upcoming 2016), Sigil FIMG_0821ire, Glitter Lust (upcoming 2016), Written on Skin, Club Beam, Pomegranate, A Red Dress for Christmas, The Black Magic Café, Fantasies in Red, Sweet Seductions: The Erzabet Bishop Collection, Holiday Cruise, Fetish Fair, Temptation Resorts: Jess, Temptation Resorts: Marnie, Taming the Beast, The Erotic Pagans Series: Beltane Fires, Samhain Shadows and Yuletide Temptation along with being a contributor to many anthologies. Erzabet has been a finalist in the GCLS awards for 2014 and 2015, winning the Goldie for her spot in two anthologies. She lives in Texas with her husband, furry children and can often be found lurking in lo
cal bookstores. She loves to bake, make naughty crochet projects and watch monster movies. When she isn’t writing, she loves to review music and books.

Connect with Erzabet via her website, Twitter, Facebook or Goodreads.

Click below to get down and dirty with Dirty Dates!


Girls Will Be Girls by Lucy Felthouse, Because Yes–Girls Will Be Girls!!!

I just recently promoted a new book by Lucy Felthouse on my blog, and before I could blink, this prolific lady had a new series of stories out! Girls Will Be Girls is her sexy new girl/girl anthology. And judging by the cover, Lucy has another hot one on her hands!

As inspired as I am by Lucy professionally–how could you not be?!–all I keep thinking about is how lucky I was to get to see her while she was in New York. She is exceptionally lovely, and we had a lovely conversation over my lox and cream cheese bagel with onions. She had pancakes, and I have been craving them ever since! Because of her, I finally saw Bridget Jones for the first time…yes, yes I know I am way behind the curve–she told me as only a true friend would! I am happy to consider Lucy a friend…

Now you are salivating for more details on her sexy new book, aren’t you? Here you go!



Six sexy Sapphic tales from the pen of popular lesbian erotica author, Lucy Felthouse.

Christmas cheer with colleagues, a driving disaster turned good, hot older women, girls in uniform, gorgeous gardeners and naughty fun in a changing cubicle… this collection contains a variety of erotic tales sure to tickle your fancy.

Available to buy exclusively from Amazon, and to read as part of the Kindle Unlimited programme.

Add to your Goodreads shelves:



She was now mere inches away, but the thickness of the bushes meant she could still only see the boots and now a bit more of the green trousers. Stepping onto the mud, she crouched down beside the feet, carefully pushing the foliage aside so she could see what the hell was going on, and figure out what she was going to do about it.

The view opened up, and Verity, far from seeing a helpless person lying on the soil, was presented with a green-clad arse reversing hurriedly in her direction!

“Hey!” she said, letting go of the branches and shifting back so abruptly she ended up on her own arse on the grass. “Be careful! Are you all right?”

As the body continued emerging, Verity slowly came to realise her mistake. Dirt-covered trousers, a filthy black waterproof coat, gloved hands, and a head topped with a floppy hat were soon visible. Slim white cables trailing from each ear and disappearing into the collar of the coat explained why she hadn’t been heard calling out, or received a response.

This woman hadn’t hurt herself. She was a fucking gardener!

Frozen in her uncomfortable position, Verity wanted the ground to open up and swallow her. Perhaps as revenge for her landing on it so hard. But she had no such luck. Instead, she heard, “What on earth are you doing down there? Are you all right?”

Struck dumb, Verity nodded and took the now glove-free hand that was offered to her, allowing the other woman to pull her up off the grass. “I—I’m fine,” she finally forced out, breaking the brief eye contact and making a show of brushing herself down, though it was probably only her bottom that was dirty. Her cheeks blazed, and she took a step back, hoping to beat a hasty retreat.

“Well, I’m glad. But it still doesn’t explain what you were doing down there.” The ear buds now hung down the woman’s front, and she was apparently poised, awaiting a reply.

Verity shook her head. “I don’t think you’d believe me if I told you.”

Narrowing her eyes, the gardener said, “Try me.”

Christ. Just to add insult to injury, it seemed she was now suspected of some kind of wrongdoing, too! “I—I was over there,” she pointed to where she’d come from, “and I saw your wellies poking out from the bushes. I panicked because I thought someone had fallen and hurt themselves. I came over to try and help. I did call out to you, to see if you were all right. But all I could see was the boots and a little bit of your trousers. I had no idea what was going on. Much less that you were the bloody gardener and remained oblivious to what I was up to because you had headphones in! I crouched down and pushed the bushes aside so I could see you better, and the next thing I know you’re shuffling back towards me. I shifted out of the way and ended up tumbling over on my bum.”

It seemed her story was too amusing to be anything but true, because the gardener grinned widely, then clapped a hand over her mouth momentarily. “I’m so sorry,” she then said, “I didn’t hear you, honestly. But I guess I can see why you thought that. Thank you so much for coming to check on me, but it really wasn’t necessary. All I was doing was fighting with a particularly vicious weed.” She pointed down to an uprooted plant at her feet, then widened her eyes. “Are you all right? You didn’t hurt yourself, did you?”

Twisting to try and look at her bottom, Verity brushed again at the seat of her jeans. “Yes, I’m fine, thank you. Just a bit of muck and grass stains, I think. Nothing that won’t come out in the washing machine.”

“Oh, good. I’m glad. I feel bad enough as it is without thinking you’ve hurt yourself or ruined your clothes, too.”

“No, I’m good. And I’m glad you’re okay, too.”

Silence hung between them for a few moments. Then Verity took another step back. “Right, well, I’d better get going, anyway. Nice to meet you.” She turned to go, but the other woman’s voice stopped her in her tracks.

“Hey, wait. No need to rush off. I’m just about to go on my tea break. Want to join me? Perhaps a brew will make up for it?” Her green eyes—apt, for a gardener, Verity thought—sparkled with humour and intelligence, and for the first time, Verity realised that, underneath the grubby gardening gear and large hat was a very attractive woman.

Still, an excuse was on the tip of her tongue—she had come here to be alone, after all—but fate intervened. Or the British weather did, anyway. A handful of fat raindrops fell onto her, followed by a few more. Then, the heavens truly opened.


Author Bio:

Lucy Felthouse is a very busy woman! She writes erotica and erotic romance in a variety of subgenres and pairings, and has over 100 publications to her name, with many more in the pipeline. These include several editions of Best Bondage Erotica, Best Women’s Erotica 2013 and Best Erotic Romance 2014. Another string to her bow is editing, and she has edited and co-edited a number of anthologies, and also edits for a small publishing house. She owns Erotica For All, is book editor for Cliterati, and is one eighth of The Brit Babes. Find out more at Join her on Facebook and Twitter, and subscribe to her newsletter at:

Let’s Ride With Guest Blogger Rebecca Black and Her New Book Release!!!

I remember reading this story Rebecca wrote for Masturbation Monday, and thinking I would love more of those characters. Well here they are! For the second day in a row, I have a brilliant author as a guest with a brand-new book! Welcome back Rebecca!

Thanks for having me today so I can give my new book Let’s Ride a shout out.

I don’t know about you, but sometimes I really love a good, quick read. Busy lives often don’t leave as much time as we’d like for reading, do they? I’m not always so bothered about the backstory, I just want to live vicariously for a moment through the characters as they experience that first rush of lust and desire in a new relationship – I want to get a little hot and tingly 😉
Well Evernight’s Romance on the Go range is all about fulfilling this reading need and my new release Let’s Ride is a part of that.

Let’s Ride started life as an erotic short that I wrote for Masturbation Monday (a meme that I write for most weeks). I saw a black and white photograph of this gorgeous, androgynous woman sitting on a kick ass motorbike in just a pair of knickers and this piece of flash fiction just fired out of me. Talk about inspiration!

She looked like she wouldn’t take any crap and she looked very capable of sweeping someone off their feet. It got a lot of great feedback so I decided to extend it and lucky for me, Evernight liked it too.

I’ve read some great books with well written dominant male characters, both straight and gay, but I really wanted to write a recognisable archetype with a twist. There isn’t one good reason on this earth why the hero has to be male. Let’s Ride completely rejects that assumption. Jo is confident, self-assured and has a dominant streak a mile wide, but she’s also a beautiful woman, inside and out. She rides into town and sweeps Mary-Beth right off her feet and into her bed. I love her (I know I’m not supposed to say that because I wrote her, but I really do!) and I hope you do too.

Let'sRideCompleted teaser

So here’s the blurb:

“I would do just about anything to be on the back of that bike when she leaves this place.”
Trapped in a small town life, Mary-Beth always knew there was something better out there. Then Jo rides into town and walks straight into the diner where she works. Sexy, dominant and self-assured, Jo is everything Mary-Beth wishes she could be. Their hot, intense meeting crashes through Mary-Beth’s small world and offers her the promise of a new start.
Will Mary-Beth leave everything behind and ride with Jo towards the chance of a new life?

Standing by the window, I’m trying to take a lunch time customer’s order but my attention is caught by a bike riding into the gas pump out front.
I hold my breath. She is pretty much everything that I wish I could be. Tall and lean. Enough fuck you attitude to tame a horde of marauding Vikings. She straddles that bike like she was born to it, like she never rode a trike. Like she just stepped right onto all that horsepower and with a flick of her wrists rode off into the sunset, giving everyone the finger as she went.
I would do just about anything to be on the back of that bike when she leaves this place.
She kicks the stand and moves the bike smoothly into its stationary position, slinging her long leg over the back wheel.
I jump a little when our eyes meet through the window. I’m supposed to be taking this guy’s order but I got distracted, seriously distracted. She smirks when her eyes roam over the redness in my cheeks.
Heat has suffused my body; a fine sweat has broken out on my skin and I know I’m in trouble. So much trouble.
I manage to scramble my brain sufficiently to take his order and drop it off at the kitchen. Moving around the bar, I grab the coffee pot to do refills. I can’t stop looking at the door.
Will she come in? Or has she just come for gas?
Please let her come in.
I want to see her up close—I want to see her eyes—that flawless skin. I want to run my fingers over the black shaved hair on the sides of her head, run them through the longer top that she has greased back. I want to watch her eyes close with the pleasure of it.
I hold my nerve when I hear the bell ring over the door. I’m pouring coffee—it really wouldn’t do to spill it and burn a customer. I’m bent over slightly to reach the cup, and my skirt brushes against the back of my legs when she walks past me.
I smile distractedly as the customer thanks me, turning my head to see she has taken a seat at the bar.
Walking over on shaky legs, I smooth my damp palms down the front of my uniform apron.
She sits tall, resting her elbows on the counter. Her legs are open, one heel of her heavy black boots hooked higher on the stool than the other. Her jeans are tight, riding low on slim hips, well worn with a small rip over one knee. A tight white t-shirt stops a few inches from the waistband of her jeans, showing smooth lightly tanned skin that I desperately want to touch.
Her knowing gaze follows me as I move around the bar to face her. I can almost feel a pressure on my skin where it touches me.
“What can I get for you?”
“What have you got?” she asks in a low, husky voice. Her eyes lock on mine. Her eyebrows are like a raven’s wings, perfectly shaped, drawing my attention across her arresting face.
“Pretty much anything, as long as it’s deep fried and unhealthy,” I say wryly.
She laughs. The sound is low and rough and strokes over my nipples.
“Always tastes good, though, don’t it?” she replies. That smirk plays across her mouth again as her gaze drops to my lips. “I’ll just take a coffee for now. Think I’ll get something sweet in a little while…”
Let'sRideCompleted teaser
Thanks for reading!

Purchase Let’s Ride:
Evernight | Amazon | All Romance | Bookstrand

About Rebecca Black:
Rebecca Black is a Yorkshire girl born and bred. She is first and foremost a voracious reader and lately an author of erotica and erotic romance. She believes that the hottest sex scenes are the ones where emotions are involved (plus lots of dirty talk, lots of spanking, licking and sucking and well… you get the idea). She is the author of A Taste For Three (m/m/f) from Evernight and has several short stories due to be released in erotic anthologies. Rebecca is a regular contributor to the fantastic Cliterati magazine.

Find Rebecca here:
Twitter | Facebook | Facebook Author Page | Tumblr |

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

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

Never Too Late for a Take This Man Excerpt by Oleander Plume!!!

When my dear friend and Chemical [se]X (which you can currently get for free!!!) editor Oleander Plume told me she was in another anthology, I jumped at the chance to host her (again!) on my blog! Take This Man is the brainchild of Neil Plakcy. Neil tells us a bit about his process below:

When I put out the call for Take This Man, I wasn’t sure what I’d get from authors. So much of gay erotica is based on the thrill of meeting someone new—making that first connection, the attraction of opposites and so on. Would my idea about sex between committed couples work?

I was delighted when the first stories began arriving in my email box and I realized I shouldn’t have worried – talented writers can take any idea and make it sing!
Not every story was great, of course. Some authors’ idea of “commitment” seemed to be having sex with the same person more than once. Others didn’t seem to grasp the idea that erotica requires the characters to engage in sexual intercourse at least once during the story. Others got bogged down in details of “how we met, how we fell in love, how we moved in together” and so on.
But the ones that made the cut? Pure gold!

Enter the golden Ms. Plume, who describes a little about her inspiration:

The submission call caught my imagination and wouldn’t let go. Here is the kind of story Neil Plakcy was looking for:

A rarity — romantic erotica focused on male couples in committed relationships — Take This Man comes from one of the top-flight gay fiction writers, Neil Plakcy. Many erotic stories focus on the thrill of first contact, but Take This Man is thrillingly different, taking a close look at how much sexier an encounter can be when the two men involved have been together for long enough to make a commitment to each other. Formalized or not, the fact remains that knowing what turns your partner on — and vice versa — makes encounters even hotter, especially when the erotic encounter is an expression of an emotional bond.

After I read the prompt, an idea formed almost immediately. (That does not happen often!) I typed out a rough draft from start to finish, and the story never really changed. (Another rarity.) 

Once I had the story fleshed out, I added a few details about the characters, Braiden and Tony. I developed a fondness for them, maybe because they are my age. Writing a contemporary romance story was a creative stretch for me, but I loved it and will definitely delve into that genre again. I also enjoyed writing about lovers who have a history with each other, I think the story is richer because of that relationship. 

Wanna sample? Here you go, an excerpt from “Never Too Late.”

He grabbed me and kissed my lips as he pushed me back on the bed. I dug my heels into his back and ground my cock against his. The heat between us roared back to life, igniting us both until I thought we might burn alive.

“Fuck me, right now. No foreplay, just get up in me.”

“I need a shower.”

“Tony, please, I need it so bad. There’s lube in my suitcase.” I felt like I would die if I didn’t get his cock inside. My clothes flew in all directions, but Tony just unzipped and pulled out his dick, it was harder than I had seen it in years.

“Braiden, my balls feel like they’re going to explode.”

His hands were shaking when he greased up his dick. I pulled my legs back. Tony licked his lips while he stared between my legs.

“It’s still so pretty, fuck, I’m so hard.”

“Tony, hurry.”

“Yeah, yeah, here it comes, baby, I can’t wait either.”

I groaned as he pushed in, it had been awhile, but I loosened up quickly. This was what I had been craving, the feel of his hardness mingled with my softness. To be one with him, joined in mutual satisfaction. His cock spread me open wide when he drove in deep. Tony growled.

“That’s it, the sound I’ve been wanting to hear. That sex growl you always make.”

He did it again, I got goosebumps all over when it rumbled from his throat. 

“Sweet angel, you’re so tight.”

“Keep talking.” I wanted him in every way, to hear his voice, to feel body, to smell his male musk, to taste his lips, to see the lust in his eyes, all for me. 

“Tell me more.”

You better take this book!