Sunday Snog 239: Fire in the Blood (#vampire #MMF #interracial)

My snog for this Sunday comes from my MMF vampire ménage, Fire in the Blood. It’s a rather dark book, with a vampire hero who’s quite different from the norm.

Here’s the blurb:

In the heart of darkness, eternal passion burns.

Maddy and Troy hope that a care-free vacation in tropical Jamaica will re-ignite the passion in their five-year relationship. On a scenic mountain trail, Maddy’s horse bolts and carries her deep into the jungle. Injured and lost, she is saved by a seductive giant of a man whose mere presence kindles unbearable lust. By the time she understands his dark nature, it is far to late for her to escape.

Bitter and alone, Etienne de Rémorcy haunts the forest around the ruined plantation of Fin d’Espoir. He has sworn to never again taste human blood, but when slender, raven-haired Madeleine begs him to take her, he cannot resist.

Troy is hugely relieved when Maddy makes her way back to their hotel after her ordeal in the mountains, but he finds her greatly changed—fiercely passionate in bed, restless and disturbed at other times. The tall, elegant stranger he meets on the beach hold the key to her transformation, and soon has seduced Troy as well. Even Etienne’s most potent magic can’t extinguish the fire in Troy’s and Madeleine’s blood.

Check out the book video, here:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dzVRy4LTQe0

When you’re done with my snog, don’t forget to head back to Victoria’sSunday Snog page for more sexy kisses!

* * *

She expected ferocity, his power unleashed. She imagined him forcing that awe-inspiring cock deep into her body. Instead, he bent his head and flicked his tongue along the sensitive skin on the inside of her knee.

“Ah…” Pleasure rippled through her, converging on her pussy. He licked again, moving upward, painting her with his cool saliva. She squirmed under his mouth, wanting to feel those thick lips on her aching clit. Gradually, he came closer to her centre, yet still he lingered on her thighs, kissing, nibbling, lapping up the juices that spilled from her hungry, empty sex. She arched up, pushing her pelvis towards him. Without effort, without removing his mouth, he forced her back onto the bed.

He rasped his tongue over the gash she’d received during her wild ride through the forest. Pain sliced into her cocoon of pleasure. The rum had probably disinfected the cut, but her bath had prevented it from clotting. His touch made it throb. When he licked again, the pain intensified.

“Ow! What are you doing?” Etienne ignored her. It felt as though he was probing the wound with his tongue, opening it further. “Wait! Don’t…”

Without warning, there was a hand dabbling in the moist folds at the entrance to her sex. A bolt of pleasure seared her. A finger rocked her clit back and forth, making her shudder and moan. Her lust flooded back, washing away the pain. She felt an odd pulling sensation at the wound site, and her nipples responded, as though he were sucking on those sensitive nubs instead of her thigh. He pushed several fingers deep into her pussy. She clenched around him. Delight rippled out to her extremities as the pull of his mouth intensified. Now she felt the suction in her clit as well as her breasts. Her whole body trembled, balanced on the edge of release.

Etienne plunged what felt like his whole hand into her depths. Something sharp tore into the flesh of her thigh. Her climax hit her, as sudden as a breaking storm, thundering through her, scattering every thought in its wake.

Before she could recover, he was on top of her, his cock nudging against her still-quaking opening, his face inches from hers. His eyes glowed with a fierce, wild light. His lips stretched wide in a grimace of triumph, exposing the pointed teeth of an animal. Blood smeared those lips—her blood. Its rusty scent mingled with his aura of roses. She shuddered, even as her pussy wept tears of new desire.

“Do you still want me, cherie?” he growled. “Now that you know what I am?” He ground his rock-hard erection against the softness at her centre, striking sparks that burned away her fear.

“Yes,” she had time to whisper, before he fastened his gore-stained lips on hers.

She tasted iron, mingled with the crystal freshness of new fallen snow. His tongue snaked into her mouth, savouring her as though she were some exotic delicacy to be consumed. His teeth raked across her lip. The metallic flavour grew stronger. One hand cupped the back of her head, holdingbringing her face to his. The other traced a ghostly path down the side of her neck, from her earlobe to her collarbone. The feathery touch made her nipples throb and her pussy clench.

His fingertips came to rest against just below her jaw. Her heartbeat quickened as she realised he was seeking her pulse. 

He broke the kiss, rearing back and locking his eyes on hers. Raw power burned in those eyes, naked and inhuman. Madeleine had no choice but to surrender. She did so gladly.

Worn Jeans, Scuffed Boots, Low-Tipped Stetson…Oh, my!

By Starla Kaye (Guest Blogger)

Let me count the reasons I love cowboys. Sorry, I can’t count that high.

I’ve been in love with a gruff, man of few words, stubborn to the bone, dang sexy cowboy for a long time. My dad got me started on the old Westerns a long time ago and I still enjoy them. I like them so much that I’ve published forty-four stores involving cowboys.

My newest book from Decadent Publishing, For Ruby's Love, is the sequel to The CEO and the Cowboy. Both books obviously involve a cowboy. While writing them I got to indulge my fantasy of falling in love with a cowboy, driving him to the edge of his patience, and bringing him to his denim-covered knees. Although that really happened more in the newest book, in which I brought a woman into the mix of the two men who had begun a romantic relationship in The CEO and The Cowboy.

Actually, I treasure Western stuff so much that my office is decorated with it. I have a collection of miniature fancy boots, small covered wagons, a lighted stagecoach on an end table, the cutest cowgirl-dressed dachshund you’ve ever seen, numerous Western hanging ornaments that hang year-round on my walls, and two art quilts I’ve made. One has some of the covers from my cowboy books on it and the other is just Western-themed.

I also enjoy traveling to places that give me fresh ideas for future settings for upcoming Western contemporary romances. For example, last fall I visited Medora, North Dakota in the upper Badlands. I absolutely fell in love with the area and the town and the people and…. Okay, I’m starting a four-book series based on the area, Cowboys from the Badlands.

Because of my love for everything cowboy, I occasionally do some kind of informational post on my Starla Kaye blog. In case you’re interested, I’ve done the following posts: 

• Cowboys: Rope, Lasso, Lariat, and More: http://starlakaye.com/cowboys-rope-lasso-lariat/
• A Cowboy and His Jeans: http://starlakaye.com/cowboy-jeans/
• A Cowboy and His Boots: http://starlakaye.com/cowboy-boots/
• Traumatized Horses: http://starlakaye.com/traumatized-horses/
• Bandana-Cowboy Kerchief: http://starlakaye.com/bandana/
• Cowboy Boots: From Cowhide to Anteater Skin: http://starlakaye.com/cowboy-boots-from-cowhide-to-anteater-skin/

Here are some of my favorite cowboy slang terms (old and current). See if you know any of them!

*Reference: Old Slang, Lingo & Phrases - http://www.legendsofamerica.com/we-slang.html

Acknowledge the Corn: To admit the truth.

A Lick and a Promise: To do a haphazard job.

Desert Canary: A burro.

Disremember: Choose to forget.

Hellabaloo: Riotous noise.

Honey-fuggled: To cheat.

Hopped for Mama: A horse bucking.

Rag Proper: Dress well.

Shop-mades: Boots.

Steel: Spurs.

Stretchin’ the Blanket: Telling a tall tale.

Suitcase Rancher: An absentee rancher.

Wearing the Bustle Wrong: Referring to a pregnant woman.

Although Calhoun Cordell, my cowboy in For Ruby's Love, didn’t actually use the term “disremember,” I believe he would have if he’d thought of it. He would have loved to forget all about the spirited, stubborn cowgirl that showed up at his ranch in place of the horse whisperer he’d expected. Ruby Tuesday McMurtry made him nuts from the first look at her on.

BLURB

Calhoun’s a simple cowboy with more problems in his life than he can handle at the moment. After nearly two years, he struggles to hang onto a relationship with Daniel, his first male lover. Daniel is worried about him because of the fire, his concern for his prized breeding mare, and because he is determined to buy the neighboring ranch to expand. But Daniel isn’t a businessman without goals of his own for expansion, a fact that frustrates Calhoun as well. He doesn’t want to lose Daniel, but will their differences finally be too much?

Daniel considers himself a lucky man to have met the rancher, someone almost his opposite and someone who he doesn’t want to live without. Standing beside the moody Calhoun has been difficult since the fire that burned down a horse barn, took the lives of two valuable horses, and traumatized a favored mare. Along with all of that, his harried friend is determined to expand his ranch holdings. Daniel is against the purchase and would prefer to find a way to slow the man down. Lately, he’s also begun worrying if maybe he isn’t enough to satisfy his lover’s needs.

Complicating everything even more, Ruby shows up later than expected at Calhoun’s ranch to honor a job as a horse therapist that her father had agreed to before his sudden death. She knows what happened to the mare and is certain she can help her, if given the chance. But the stubborn rancher can’t get past the idea of her being a woman, someone not strong enough to work with such a damaged horse. They butt heads over the matter until she finds an ally in Daniel. He is concerned and yet believes in her abilities. Another problem arises, though. She and Calhoun have been skirting around an unwanted attraction, and then she discovers another surprising interest between her and Daniel.

EXCERPT

He pulled open the over-sized front door and gaped at the bit of a woman shivering on the porch. She appeared a foot shorter than him and a good sixty or more pounds lighter. What hit him most were her eyes—an odd dark green, like jade or something. Her eyes narrowed as he looked her over.

Finally, she stretched to her full minimal height and bristled at him. “When you’re done checking me out, do you think you could let me inside? It’s colder than cold out here.”

Daniel stepped beside him and intervened. “Let the lady in, Cal.” He looked around her and asked, “Where’s your car? Assuming you drove here.”

She slid between them into the tiled foyer before turning back. “No car. And I didn’t drive here, at least not exactly.” Her teeth chattered.

Calhoun closed the door against the sharp winter breeze and watched her pull off a battered pink Stetson, unveiling chin-length strawberry-blonde hair. “What does ‘not exactly’ mean?” He added, “Who are you, anyway?”

She worried her trembling lower lip and glanced from him to Daniel and back. She pulled off a glove and stuck out her hand. “Ruby McMurtry.”

Instead of taking her hand, he puffed up in annoyance. “You’re late! Where’s your father?”

She started to lower her hand, glowering at him. But he noticed something besides anger in the depths of those enchanting eyes. He couldn’t get a handle on the emotion.

While he tried to calm down, wishing he hadn’t jumped on her, Daniel reached out and shook her very red-looking hand.

“You feel like ice,” he said in concern. He took a second to scowl at him.

As she blinked at her hand sandwiched between Daniel’s, her already pink-chilled cheeks turned pinker. “I should’ve worn my thicker gloves,” she muttered in clear discomfort. When she managed to slip free, she glared at him.

A twinge of guilt about his rude behavior passed through him, but his anger came out first as he repeated himself. “Where’s your father? I have a serious bone to pick with him.”

Those eyes that still captivated him welled up with tears. His gut tightened.

Her lower lip wobbled and she sputtered, “He…he…he’s dead.”

BUY LINKS

Decadent Publishing - http://www.decadentpublishing.com/product_info.php?manufacturers_id=92&products_id=1040&osCsid=6c1232251c1e45744bd0b3ee7262f414

Amazon – http://www.amazon.com/Rubys-Love-Starla-Kaye-ebook/dp/B00S1XXT7O/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1420914791&sr=8-1&keywords=for+ruby%27s+love+starla

Barnes & Noble - http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/for-rubys-love-starla-kaye/1121086203?ean=2940150209930

iBooks - https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/for-rubys-love/id956988576?mt=11&ign-mpt=uo=4

Kobo - http://store.kobobooks.com/en-us/books/for-ruby-s-love/CslIwIkZ30i1Ic7_Mzs9Iw?MixID=CslIwIkZ30i1Ic7_Mzs9Iw&PageNumber=1

About Starla

Starla has been writing and publishing in different romance sub-genres and lengths for twenty years. Her first published book, Tug of Love, was a “sweet” romance published with iUniverse. Currently she mainly writes edgier romances with an erotic or slightly naughty focus.

She enjoys writing about strong-willed, independent women who butt heads with equally determined, self-confident, and slightly domineering men. Her belief in relation to her heroes is to find them their perfect match, but make him really work for the happily-for-now or happily-ever-after with the woman who wins his heart. Of course, she likes her heroines to be challenged as well. Love isn't easy.

To date she has published 20 novels, 38 novellas, 8 anthologies, and 18 short stories. Starla writes for Decadent Publishing, Black Velvet Seductions, and Blushing Books.

Social Media Links

Website: http://starlakaye.com/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/starla_kaye

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/StarlaKayeWriter

Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/starlakaye/

Amazon Author Page: http://www.amazon.com/Starla-Kaye/e/B002ZH8K3U

Goodreads Page: https://www.goodreads.com/user/show/5494986-starla-kaye

Authors Den Page: http://www.authorsden.com/visit/author.asp?authorid=151725

CONTEST: Prize of your choice of a small Western picture frame or a horse dish towel. Leave a comment about why you love cowboys or about some cowboy lingo you know. One random contestant will be chosen March 14.

Sunday Snog #151: Almost Home

I can feel it in the air. The holidays are coming. I'm thinking about evergreens and mistletoe, candy canes and egg nog, all the delights of the season.

Snow, too. I won't get snow here in the tropics, but I've been thinking about it and writing about it (a new holiday story in the works for you). And so I thought I'd share a very sexy and emotional snog from my snowy M/M/F holiday romance Almost Home.

Home is a state of heart.

Suzanne and Gino have history going back to high school, but for years Suzanne has been three thousand miles away, preoccupied with her challenging career. A mistletoe kiss at a holiday party reminds her of their old bond and proves that some things get better with age. When Gino rescues her from a New England blizzard, though, she discovers that she's not the only love in his life. Gino shares his bed and his colonial-era farm house with taciturn painter Harris Steele. Snowed in, without electricity or running water, the three explore the many shapes a triangle can assume. Although she's far away from her everyday existence, Suzanne realizes that she's almost home.

After you've enjoyed my snog, please visit Victoria's Snog Central, where you will find many more delicious Sunday kisses (probably with holiday themes, too!)

Now Gino shimmied his tight jeans down over his narrow hips. His rigid penis sprang out, a fat arrow of flesh pointed at the ceiling.

Suzanne’s breath caught in her throat. She licked her lips.

He turned his back to her as he eased the pants over the luscious curves of his bare butt and pushed them down to his ankles. With a flourish, he stepped out of them and kicked them away. Finally he stood before her, gloriously naked except for the gold chain around his neck and his impudent grin.

“No underwear?” teased Suzanne, holding out her arms.

“Helena told me you were expected,” Gino replied, stretching out beside her. He toyed with her nipples. She retaliated by grasping and stroking his substantial erection.

“Pretty sure of yourself, aren’t you?” she commented. He gasped as she smoothed her thumb over his knob, spreading the liquid leaking from his slit.

“Not particularly. But I’ve always been an optimist.” Suzanne watched, fascinated, as he rolled a condom onto his cock. He settled on top of her, careful not to knock them off the the narrow couch, and nudged her thighs apart. His hardness prodded her lower lips. “Now—can I fuck you, Suzy Q?”

“Oh yes! It’s about time.”

He slipped into her like an old lover, smooth and sure. She moaned with delight and wrapped her legs around his waist. She hadn’t felt this good in a very long time—perhaps ever. He was a perfect fit, with enough bulk to stimulate all her sensitive spots without stretching her to the point of pain. He used long, slow strokes, letting her appreciate every inch of his flesh sliding over hers. She clenched her inner muscles along his length, and was rewarded by his moan.

“Oh God! Oh—Suzy!” He picked up his pace, fucking her hard and fast, just as she craved. His strong arms supported his weight while his pelvis jerked and drove his cock into her depths. His face hovered over her, lit by the flickering fire. Suzanne watched his expressions as he rammed into her. His blissful smile grew wider at the deepest point of each stroke. His eyes were screwed shut as if the pleasure was too much to bear.

“Look at me, Gino,” she whispered, arching up to meet each thrust. He heard and obeyed, locking his eyes to hers. She tumbled headlong into their luminous depths.

He opened his soul to her gaze. All his hunger was there, more than twenty years of pent-up desire. She saw the laughter, too, gentle and mocking, both his weapon and his armour against hurt. Regret flickered in the background—why had they waited so long, their youth lost to stubbornness or blindness? And woven through it all, glowing in his face as he finally, royally fucked her, was simple love.

The realisation rocked her harder than his cock slamming into her cunt. This wasn’t just fucking—Gino, the boy and the man she’d known for most of her lonely life, was making love to her.

She dragged him down so that his weight mashed her breasts. She wanted him closer. “Gino,” she whispered. “I never knew…” His mouth was on hers. They shared their breathing. She felt his pulse, racing even faster than his cock, beating against her skin. She tightened around him, pulling him deeper, trying to meld their two bodies into one.

Mouth to mouth, eyes locked, they writhed together. Gino slid his hands under her buttocks and held her aloft, driving into her again and again. She floated there, cradled in his strength, ravaged by his lust.

The climax welled up from her depths, powerful, pure and irresistible. The pleasure built and built until she was sure she would shatter, but instead it only drove her higher. The room glowed golden. Gino’s eyes were jewels. She felt herself ripple like water around his cock, then the answering surge from his flesh. She sensed every flicker as he came, hot and sweet, inside her.

He kissed her with quiet passion. She tasted honey and salt, eggnog and peppermint, and came again, deep and soft as falling snow. 

 

Sunday Snog #91: Fire in the Blood

Greetings, readers!

I took a trip back in time looking for my snog today, looking for a juicy kiss to share with you. Today's offering is from my 2010 M/M/F vampire ménage, Fire in the Blood.

Maddy and Troy hope that a carefree vacation in tropical Jamaica will re-ignite the passion in their five year relationship. On a scenic mountain trail ride, Maddy's horse bolts and carries her deep into the jungle. Injured and lost, she is saved by a seductive giant of a man whose mere presence kindles unbearable lust. By the time she understands his dark nature, it is far too late for her to escape.

Bitter and alone, Etienne de Rémorcy haunts the forest around the ruined plantation of Fin d'Espoir. He has sworn to never again taste taste human blood, but when slender, raven-haired Madeleine begs him to take her, he cannot resist.

Troy is hugely relieved when Maddy makes her way back to their hotel after her ordeal in the mountains. But he finds her greatly changed - fiercely passionate in bed, restless and disturbed at other times. The tall, elegant stranger he meets on the beach holds the key to her transformation - and soon has seduced Troy as well.  Even Etienne's most potent magic can't extinguish the fire in Troy's and Madeleine's blood.

After you've finished with my snog, head on back to Blisse Kiss Central for more delicious kisses. And get ready for Victoria's huge 100th Sunday Snog blog hop, starting on the 22nd of September. Dozens of authors, dozens of prizes - just for enjoying our kisses!

By the time she got back to the hotel, it was past noon. The manager of the stable looked more relieved to see his horse than its rider. With a combination of pleas and threats, Maddy succeeded in convincing him to give her a lift back to the resort. She knocked on the door of the room, not wanting to shock Troy too badly. Nevertheless, he gave a little yelp when he saw her standing there, filthy, sweaty and smeared with dried blood.

“Maddy! Oh God, you’re okay!” He held her tightly to his chest, as though he was afraid she’d vanish. “I was so worried. We tried to follow your horse, but we couldn’t see anything in the storm… The guide wouldn’t go into the woods after it got dark, no matter how much I offered to pay. The police just smiled and had me fill in a report, but other than that, they haven’t done a damned thing. ‘She’ll come back,’ they kept saying. ‘No problem, man.’”

“Well, I guess in some sense they were right.” Maddy buried her face in Troy’s neck, breathing his fresh, clean scent. His body was warm and hard against hers. She relaxed into his strength as he stroked her hair and murmured endearments. He raised her face to his and started to nibble at her bruised lips.

He felt so incredibly good. Her nipples peaked under her shirt. Moisture gathered between her thighs. She rubbed her chest against his. The friction sent sparks skittering from her breasts down to her sex. He captured her in a deep kiss. She forced her tongue into his mouth, relishing the familiar peppermint flavour of his toothpaste.

Troy groaned, responding to her sudden ardour. She groped blindly between his legs, seeking the swelling bulk she knew she’d find there. He was hard already, his cock straining against his zipper. With dexterity borne of practice, she unbuttoned his waistband and opened his fly. His eager erection sprang out into her waiting hand.

She stroked up and down his rigid shaft, swirling her thumb across the slippery bulb each time she reached the tip. He moaned into her mouth, jerking back and forth inside her circling fingers. He seemed bigger and harder than normal. His velvet-soft skin sheathed a pillar of stone.

Maddy broke the kiss. Still holding Troy’s penis, she pulled her jersey over her head with the other hand. The fabric caught for a moment on her distended nipples. Pleasure arced through her. Liquid welled up in her cunt.

“I want you.” Her voice was husky with lust. “Now.” Using his cock like a handle, she dragged him to the bed and pushed him down onto his back. He lay there, his cock bobbing, obviously fascinated by her uncommon passion, as she struggled to remove her shorts.

The sweat-damp fabric stuck to her skin. Her clit beat inside the crotch like a fiery heart. Frustrated and impatient, she tugged hard. The garment tore away from her hips and fluttered to the floor, a useless rag.

Maddy didn’t care. She crawled onto the bed and straddled Troy’s rampant cock. With a throaty growl, she sank down onto his body, impaling herself. Troy arched towards her, meeting her halfway. Hands on his shoulders, she forced him back against the pillow. “Let—me—ride—you,” she managed to gasp, driving his cock deeper into her cunt with each word. She clenched his swollen stalk and ground her clit against his pubic bone. Fierce pleasure raged through her.

Troy reached for her breasts, moulding their fullness with both hands. He brushed his fingertips across her taut nipples. “Harder,” she growled between clenched teeth as she bounced up and down on his cock. Her lover obeyed, capturing and pinching the tight knots between his thumb and forefinger. She moaned her encouragement. He dug his fingernails into her flesh. The pain added a high note to the symphony of sensation ringing through her body.

As Wet As It Gets

Hey, everyone! Welcome to the Wet and Wild blog hop, organized by the intrepid Skye Warren. Skye has a talent for coming up with the most fabulous grand prizes imaginable. For this hop, she's offering a $100 gift certificate from Victoria's Secret (that's a lot of lingerie, baby!) and a big prize pack of sexy reading.

Of course each of the participants is sweetening the pot. My gift to you is a brace of best-selling print anthologies, autographed of course: Brit Party (ménage themed, includes my M/M/F story Monsoon Fever) and Bound Brits (bondage themed, includes my M/F story Getaway Girl). All you have to do is leave a comment on this post, with your email address. In fact, I'll offer a second prize, too, an ebook version of Brit Party. I will draw my winners on Sunday the 26^th of May.

I picked this book because Monsoon Fever includes one of the wettest, and wildest, scenes I've written, a three-way interlude in the Indian version of a shower room. The story is set in the Indian state of Assam, just after World War I.

Priscilla and Jonathan originally enjoyed a marriage based as much on physical passion as on love. However, the travails of business and the tribulations of the Great War have taken their toll. When Jon's father dies in faraway India, the couple travels to the father's isolated Assamese tea plantation to settle his affairs.

Anil Kumar, a charismatic Indian lawyer who arrives on business, enchants both Priscilla and Jon with his god-like beauty and charm. In separate incidents, each of them succumbs to Anil's lustful attentions. Will the illicit desires excited by the handsome Indian be the final stroke that destroys their marriage? Or the route to saving it?

Here's the excerpt, which takes place after the three main characters have been working to dig survivors out of a landslide that engulfed the tea workers' village. Hope it has the desired effect! (That is, an increase in wetness!)

***

The bathroom was simple, Asian-style, a tiled area with a drain rather than a tub. Lalida had left an ample supply of hot water, filling every bucket and ewer in the house. Cold water came directly from the rain-fed cistern on the roof.

Quickly, before she could think too much about what she was doing, Priscilla stripped off her clothes and kicked them into a corner. She grabbed one of the pitchers of hot water and poured it over her head.

Dirt sluiced out of her hair in muddy rivulets and swirled down the drain. The warmth soothed her aching muscles but made her scratches and blisters sting. She picked up a bar of her precious English lavender soap and began smoothing the suds over her breasts and belly. She lingered over the task, savouring the silkiness of her own skin under her fingertips.

The two men watched her, transfixed. Jon’s mouth hung open as if he didn’t believe what he was seeing, but at the same time his trousers were distended by a huge erection. Anil’s lips were parted, his tongue-tip playing unconsciously at the corners. She could see that he was hungry to taste her. For long moments, though, neither man moved.

Her soapy hands slipped easily into the cleft between her thighs. It seemed so natural, to slide her slippery fingers along her folds and stroke the juicy bud of flesh that set her trembling. She had done this so many times; she knew instinctively the path to her own pleasure. No one had ever watched her, of course. Instead of inhibiting her, though, her audience stirred her to new peaks of excitement.

No longer was her self-pleasuring lonely and sterile. Now she was sharing it with the man—the men—that she loved and desired. As she climbed higher, she could see her own arousal reflected in their faces. Neither moved to expose his cock, not yet, but she knew that would come soon.

She rubbed harder, plunging three fingers into her depths while vigorously thumbing her clit. With her other hand, she pinched her soapy nipples, sending sharp bolts of sensation straight to her sex. She moaned, closer every instant to her final release. With her eyes closed, she could still feel their lustful gaze, hear their harsh breathing.

All at once, Jon groaned. Priscilla’s eyes flew open. He had unbuttoned his trousers. His cock jutted out, pale as ivory, the helmet purple with blood. He gripped his length with both hands, jerking away desperately. A grimace distorted his sweet mouth; he seemed almost to be in pain.

He worked his cock faster and harder, his eyes never leaving her soapy form. She picked up his rhythm, her fingers probing and twisting, her thumb mashing her clit against her pubic bone. She was close, and so was he. She squatted, opening her thighs wide and burying both hands in the sloppy, soapy cavern between them. Jon groaned again at the sight of her lewd posture.

They were locked in a race toward completion, each urging the other on. Priscilla tottered on the brink, humping her hands, watching her husband ravage his beautiful blood-engorged cock. Energy whipped back and forth between them, circling, strengthening. Nothing existed but their two bodies, straining toward ecstasy.

A half-strangled cry from Anil drew their attention. He had freed his cock as well. He stroked the thick rod of tawny flesh gently, far from the desperation of climax, or so it seemed. Yet as they watched, his cock contracted, pulsed and sprayed viscous ribbons of cum all over his delicate brown fingers.

The sight was simultaneously beautiful and obscene. Priscilla ground herself against her hands, hurling her body into an orgasm that tore through her like a hurricane. Even as she quivered in the retreating gusts of pleasure, she heard Jon yell and knew that he was spewing his seed across the floor.

The next thing she knew, Jon was beside her, helping her to stand. He clutched her soapy form to his now-naked body and sealed her lips with his. Joy ballooned in her chest. It had been so long since she’d felt his decisive mouth or tasted his familiar flavour. She rubbed her breasts against him, smearing herself with his dirt. His rigid nipples poked at her chest. Below, she could feel his cock stiffening again, nudging into the gap between her thighs.

She opened her legs and tilted her pelvis toward him, inviting his entry. Then, all at once, a torrent of warm water poured down on their heads. They broke their kiss, sputtering in the surprise flood. Before they could respond, another bucketful drenched them.

“Anil!” Priscilla turned to find that the native was behind them. He too had shed his clothes. As she watched, he raised a pitcher and poured its contents over his own head.

The shower slicked his dark locks against his skull, emphasising the fine planes of his countenance. Rivulets coursed over his muscled shoulders and down his hairless chest. His skin looked oiled, cinnamon-hued and buttery smooth. Only in his groin did hair grow, in wild black tangles completely different from the golden fur at the base of Jonathan’s cock.

***

Wet enough for you?!

Don't forget to leave a comment. Every one counts as an entry for the grand prizes, as well as for my giveaway. And to increase your chances of winning, visit the other authors participating in the hop. Just click on the links below.

A big thanks to Skye for organizing the hop. Have fun!

Back List Blast: Monsoon Fever

Monsoon Fever by Lisabet Sarai

M/M/F Historical Erotic Romance

Divine temptation lies in wait in an ancient and mysterious land.

In their first years together, Priscilla and Jonathan enjoyed a marriage based as much on physical passion as on love. However, the travails of business and the tribulations of the Great War have taken their toll. When Jon's father dies in faraway India, the couple travels to the father's isolated Assamese tea plantation to settle his affairs. Far from the bustle and distraction of London, left alone to endure the monsoon rains while Jon struggles to complete the final harvest, Priscilla realises how much she misses Jon's touch.

Anil Kumar arrives with business documents for Jon to examine. The charismatic native enchants both Priscilla and Jon with his god-like beauty and charm. In separate incidents, each of them succumbs to Anil's lustful attentions. Will the illicit desires excited by the handsome Indian be the final stroke that destroys their marriage? Or the route to saving it? 

Excerpt

The bathroom was simple, Asian-style, a tiled area with a drain rather than a tub. Lalida had left an ample supply of hot water, filling every bucket and ewer in the house. Cold water came directly from the rain-fed cistern on the roof.

Quickly, before she could think too much about what she was doing, Priscilla stripped off her clothes and kicked them into a corner. She grabbed one of the pitchers of hot water and poured it over her head. Dirt sluiced out of her hair in muddy rivulets and swirled down the drain. The warmth soothed her aching muscles but made her scratches and blisters sting. She picked up a bar of her precious English lavender soap and began smoothing the suds over her breasts and belly. She lingered over the task, savouring the silkiness of her own skin under her fingertips.

The two men watched her, transfixed. Jon’s mouth hung open as if he didn’t believe what he was seeing, but at the same time his trousers were distended by a huge erection.  Anil’s lips were parted, his tongue-tip playing unconsciously at the corners. She could see that he was hungry to taste her. For long moments, though, neither man moved.

Her soapy hands slipped easily into the cleft between her thighs. It seemed so natural, to slide her slippery fingers along her folds and stroke the juicy bud of flesh that set her trembling. She had done this so many times; she knew instinctively the path to her own pleasure. No one had ever watched her, of course. Instead of inhibiting her, though, her audience stirred her to new peaks of excitement.

No longer was her self-pleasuring lonely and sterile. Now she was sharing it with the man—the men—that she loved and desired. As she climbed higher, she could see her own arousal reflected in their faces. Neither moved to expose his cock, not yet, but she knew that would come soon.

She rubbed harder, plunging three fingers into her depths while vigorously thumbing her clit. With her other hand, she pinched her soapy nipples, sending sharp bolts of sensation straight to her sex. She moaned, closer every instant to her final release. With her eyes closed, she could still feel their lustful gaze, hear their harsh breathing. 

All at once, Jon groaned. Priscilla’s eyes flew open. He had unbuttoned his trousers. His cock jutted out, pale as ivory, the helmet purple with blood. He gripped his length with both hands, jerking away desperately. A grimace distorted his sweet mouth; he seemed almost to be in pain.

He worked his cock faster and harder, his eyes never leaving her soapy form. She picked up his rhythm, her fingers probing and twisting, her thumb mashing her clit against her pubic bone. She was close, and so was he. She squatted, opening her thighs wide and burying both hands in the sloppy, soapy cavern between them. Jon groaned again at the sight of the sight of her lewd posture.

They were locked in a race toward completion, each urging the other on. Priscilla tottered on the brink, humping her hands, watching her husband ravage his beautiful blood-engorged cock. Energy whipped back and forth between them, circling, strengthening. Nothing existed but their two bodies, straining toward ecstasy.

A half-strangled cry from Anil drew their attention. He had freed his cock as well. He stroked the thick rod of tawny flesh gently, far from the desperation of climax, or so it seemed. Yet as they watched, his cock contracted, pulsed and sprayed viscous ribbons of cum all over his delicate brown fingers.

The sight was simultaneously beautiful and obscene. Priscilla ground herself against her hands, hurling her body into an orgasm that tore through her like a hurricane. Even as she quivered in the retreating gusts of pleasure, she heard Jon yell and knew that he was spewing his seed across the floor.

The next thing she knew, Jon was beside her, helping her to stand. He clutched her soapy form to his now-naked body and sealed her lips with his. Joy ballooned in her chest. It had been so long since she’d felt his decisive mouth or tasted his familiar flavour. She rubbed her breasts against him, smearing herself with his dirt. His rigid nipples poked at her chest. Below, she could feel his cock stiffening again, nudging into the gap between her thighs.

She opened her legs and tilted her pelvis toward him, inviting his entry. Then, all at once, a torrent of warm water poured down on their heads. They broke their kiss, sputtering in the surprise flood. Before they could respond, another bucketful drenched them.

“Anil!” Priscilla turned to find that the native was behind them. He too had shed his clothes. As she watched, he raised a pitcher and poured its contents over his own head. 

The shower slicked his dark locks against his skull, emphasising the fine planes of his countenance. Rivulets coursed over his muscled shoulders and down his hairless chest. His skin looked oiled, cinnamon-hued and buttery smooth. Only in his groin did hair grow, in wild black tangles completely different from the golden fur at the base of Jonathan’s cock.

Priscilla’s palms itched with the need to caress that silky, dark skin, to mould Anil’s flat breasts and flick her thumbs across his chocolate-hued nipples. She saw herself kneeling in the puddle at his feet, swallowing his majestic penis. The urge to turn image into reality was overwhelming. Did she dare to act on her desire?

She glanced back at Jon. He too seemed transfixed by the sight of Anil’s glorious nakedness. His cock was fully erect once again. It twitched slightly, in rhythm perhaps with his racing pulse. His hands were clenched at his sides, but as Priscilla watched, he relaxed and began stroking himself. His cock swelled further. She willed him to look away from Anil and meet her gaze, with its unspoken question. He must have felt her thoughts. Their eyes locked, and for a moment Priscilla felt the old connection that they’d had at first, the sense that everything was understood. He nodded slightly, a half-smile playing on his lips.

Get your own copy of Monsoon Fever - also available as an audio book!

Back List Blast: Fire in the Blood

Fire in the Blood by Lisabet Sarai

M/M/F vampire ménage

In the heart of darkness, eternal passion burns.

 Maddy and Troy hope that a carefree vacation in tropical Jamaica will re-ignite the passion in their five year relationship. On a scenic mountain trail ride, Maddy's horse bolts and carries her deep into the jungle. Injured and lost, she is saved by a seductive giant of a man whose mere presence kindles unbearable lust. By the time she understands his dark nature, it is far too late for her to escape.

Bitter and alone, Etienne de Rémorcy haunts the forest around the ruined plantation of Fin d'Espoir. He has sworn to never again taste taste human blood, but when slender, raven-haired Madeleine begs him to take her, he cannot resist.

Troy is hugely relieved when Maddy makes her way back to their hotel after her ordeal in the mountains. But he finds her greatly changed - fiercely passionate in bed, restless and disturbed at other times. The tall, elegant stranger he meets on the beach holds the key to her transformation - and soon has seduced Troy as well. Even Etienne's most potent magic can't extinguish the fire in Troy's and Madeleine's blood. 

Excerpt 

His entry was swift and silent. She didn't even know he was behind her until she noticed his fire-cast shadow on the bed. "You may wear this." He handed her a brilliant garment of multi-coloured silk. "It belonged to my mistress." The dressing gown was soft as a cloud, so delicate that Maddy feared it would tear at her slightest touching.

"God, it's exquisite." The jewel-toned robe shimmered with a twining pattern of blossoms and peacocks.

"But I can't wear this. I'll destroy it. It looks like an antique."

"Put it on." Power rang in his voice. There was no way that she could disobey. She slipped the gown over her shoulders and belted it around her waist. The silk caressed her breasts and belly like secret hands. Her pussy dampened again. "Sit down now, and I will bind your ankle."

She seated herself on the bed. The giant perched on a wooden stool and drew her foot into his lap. Maddy struggled to hold still. Every time he brushed his fingers over her flesh, electric thrills sizzled up to strike between her legs. She wanted him to push to slithery silk up her thighs, to spread them so wide that it hurt, then dive down to feast on her juicy sex. Surely he must smell her. He must hear her heart, so loud in own ears that she could no longer hear the crackling fire. However, he appeared to be completely occupied with his nursing duties. He wrapped her foot and ankle in layer after layer of taut muslin, a reasonable substitute for an ace bandage, then secured his efforts with several safety pins.

She couldn't stand it any more. She laid her palm on the kinky nap covering his head. He raised his eyes. In their depths she saw wisdom and pain. "I'm Madeleine," she said. "What's your name?"

"Etienne." He settled back on the stool. "Etienne de Rémorcy."

"I want to thank you, Etienne. For all your help." Casually, with one hand, she loosened the sash holding the robe closed. She leaned forward, so that the silk gapped open and revealed her gleaming white breasts.

"I could hardly do otherwise. My mistress taught me how to be a gentleman. You obviously needed my assistance." His rich voice sounded strained.

"Oh, I did." Maddy shifted on the bed. The dressing gown slipped off one shoulder. "I still do." The peacocks slithered away, exposing her pale thigh and her wound, crusted with dried blood.

Etienne's eyes glittered. His blunt hands shot out and grabbed her wrists. "Do not play with me, girl." Lust gushed through Maddy's body. Etienne's nostrils twitched. He tightened his grip until she cried out. "Do not tempt me."

"You're hurting me," she whimpered. "Please..." Dimly she understood that she was not begging to be released.

"Believe me, I will hurt you far more if we continue." Etienne forced her down on the bed, her captured arms above her, and straddled her with his massive thighs. "Although I was taught to be a gentleman, in truth I am a savage beast." The fragile silk tore away from her nakedness.

"Don't you want me?" Maddy's eyes swam with tears.

He brought his mouth close to her ear. "You could not possibly understand how much." His breath was the icy exhalation of a glacier.

She shivered under his weight. His coolness only stoked the fire in her pussy. "Then take me."

He freed her wrists and sat back on his heels, searching her face. She cupped her ripe breasts and offered them to him. Please, she prayed silently, let him see my need. She opened herself to him, letting those luminous eyes probe her deepest desires.

He licked his full lips, and his white teeth gleamed in the fire light. He reached for his belt. "Let it be as you will, then," he growled. "I am no longer responsible."
 
Read Fire in the Blood today!

A M/M Embrace from Monsoon Fever

I've got a lovely snog for you today, a steamy M/M kiss from my historical ménage Monsoon Fever.

In their first years together, Priscilla and Jonathan enjoyed a marriage based as much on physical passion as on love. However, the travails of business and the tribulations of the Great War have taken their toll. When Jon's father dies in faraway India, the couple travels to the father's isolated Assamese tea plantation to settle his affairs.

Anil Kumar, a charismatic Indian lawyer who arrives on business, enchants both Priscilla and Jon with his god-like beauty and charm. In separate incidents, each of them succumbs to Anil's lustful attentions. Will the illicit desires excited by the handsome Indian be the final stroke that destroys their marriage? Or the route to saving it?

After you've savored the scene below, hop on over to Victoria Blisse's Sunday Snog page for more kisses from all your favorite authors!

Kumar snaked his arms around Jon’s body, pulling it back against his own. Jon froze. His cock jerked skyward. “Let me help you, Jon. You are so tense. You need to relax.” 
 

One of Kumar’s hands stroked Jon’s pectorals. Jon’s nipples spiked up into tight triggers that shot incredible pleasure through him when touched. The native’s other hand reached between Jon’s legs to cup the bulk of his erection.

“No,” Jon moaned, but at the same time his engorged cock threatened to explode in response to the intimate caress. Kumar squeezed the rigid organ, and Jon groaned again. Please, I can’t…”

Kumar nibbled Jon’s earlobe. Sparks flashed down Jon’s spine to ignite in his groin .” Why not?” he murmured, his voice rich with encouragement. “Why not allow yourself the release you crave, that you need?”

Nimble brown fingers unbuttoned Jon’s trousers. Jon gasped at the first touch of Kumar’s bare skin on his own. He slumped back, letting Kumar take his weight as the Indian fondled his aching cock. Jon could feel the hard bulk of Kumar’s own erection pressing into his backside. Panic seized him. He had to escape.

At the same time, the rock-hard evidence of the other man’s arousal nearly took him over the edge. He leaned against the other man, not daring to move, trying to ignore the insistent tease of Kumar’s cock, knowing that with the slightest provocation he would experience the ultimate shame. Yet the humiliating image of his seed shooting out all over Kumar’s hand only drove him closer to that extreme.

Kumar slid his thumb back and forth over the exposed and sensitive bulb. Jon gave a strangled cry of pleasure and anguish. “Don’t resist it, Jon. Why not enjoy the flesh that the gods have given you?”

“But—it’s an abomination. You, me…”

“Perhaps in England. Here we know that male and female are merely two aspects of the One. Turn around now, and I will show you such pleasures that you will not doubt they come from the gods.”

Jon could not help himself. Kumar steered him around until the two men were face to face. The Indian fastened his ripe lips on Jon’s mouth in a sweet, deep kiss. He crushed Jon’s exposed cock to his own groin. Through the thin cotton trousers, Jon could feel the native’s rigid cock, duelling with his own.

The heat of the kiss stole Jon’s breath. He had never before kissed a man, but now something was loosed in him. He opened his mouth to Kumar’s agile tongue, welcoming the foreign sensation of being invaded, savouring the exotic taste of anise and coriander. He wrapped his arms around the Indian’s muscled frame. Kumar’s light cotton garments were no barrier to sensation. Jon could feel everything—the heat coming off the native’s silky skin, the dampness near his armpits and his groin, the stony pillar of flesh rising between his thighs.

The Indian finally broke the kiss. Before Jon could sigh his regret, Kumar had slipped to the floor, kneeling in front of the Englishman. Before Jon could think about propriety or shame, Kumar had sucked Jon’s cock into his mouth. 

Sunday Snog: Something Borrowed

Today's kiss is from my short story "Something Borrowed", one of the tales in my extremely eclectic collection Body Electric.  This M/M/F tale was based on a real life experience - but I'm not going to tell you how much is true and how much is the product of my very active imagination!

When you're done with my snog, please visit Victoria's Sunday Snog page for links to lots more succulent kisses!

The song stretched out forever. Gradually I relaxed into Mark’s embrace, allowing him to take the lead. We moved together, each step flowing into the next, like one being. Everything felt so very right. I was high on the way we fit together, the way I responded to his subtlest cue. Effervescent joy leavened my lust. This was something new, something more than just physical.

I peered up at him. His half-smile, the light dancing in his ocean eyes told me he sensed it, too.

Drunk on his closeness, I didn’t even notice when the music stopped. I was shocked when he released me. My first impulse was to grab him, to press myself against his sweet, lean body once again. I couldn’t bear the loss of contact. Only his firm hand on my shoulder stopped me. He led me back to my chair. I discovered that I was trembling.

Mark seated himself beside me. “Thank you – but I don’t know your name yet.”

I was fascinated by his ripe lips and imagining a kiss. It took me a moment to answer.

“Oh – um – Delia. I’m Delia.”

He caught my hand between his. Blood raced to my clit at the skin-on-skin gesture. “It’s a pleasure, Delia.” 

The sparkle from the cut-glass chandelier overhead reflected in his eyes. “Can I get you a drink?”

“No! No, please, I’m fine.” My other hand was on top of his two. I couldn’t stand the notion of his leaving. I suddenly saw that I was acting uncivilized. Maybe he wanted a drink himself. Perhaps he even wanted to get away from me. “Of course, if you’d like one...”

“No, that’s okay. You just seemed a bit – flushed.” His grin made it perfectly clear that he understood why. I should have been annoyed by his cockiness, but honestly, I wanted him too much.

“Ah – well, it’s a bit warm in here. I expected San Francisco to be cool and damp this time of year.” Right, Delia. Talk about the weather. That’s always a refuge in times of social confusion.

Mark had not released my hand. He brushed a fingertip delicately across my palm. My nipples tightened to the point of pain. “Where are you from?” he asked, tracing a line along the outside of my index finger. I shivered.

“I live in Los Angeles. Santa Monica actually. I teach computer science at UCLA.” I was amazed that I was managing to keep up any kind of discourse. My heart slammed against my ribs and I could feel a dribble of pussy juice inching its way down the inside of my thigh. “Jill was my roommate in college, but we’ve been a bit out of touch. This is the first time I’ve seen her since she moved west.”

“Ah, we’re practically neighbors. I live in Westwood. Junior partner in a law firm.”

A lawyer! I should have known. He was so slick, so sure of himself. But damn it, he was gorgeous.

I made a superhuman effort to pull myself together. Extricating my hand from his, I brushed my damp curls away from my sweaty forehead. “And what about you? How do you know Jill and Dan?”

“I don’t. But my boyfriend Scott – “ Mark gestured toward the dining room, where an athletic blond guy was deep in conversation with Dan – “He’s the best man. I just came along to keep him company.”

For a moment I was sure that the San Andreas fault had finally let go. The earth rocked under my feet. A roaring filled my ears. “Your boyfriend?” I sputtered at last.

“Yes, that’s right.” Mark’s amusement transformed itself into concern as he saw my distress. “Are you alright? Is that a problem?”

I couldn’t look at him. I wanted to sink through the floor. Here I was, creaming over his luscious body and fresh face, imagining that he was my soul mate, for God’s sake, and he was gay!

He cupped my chin and raised my gaze to his. “What’s wrong, Delia? It doesn’t gross you out, does it? The thought of two guys together?”

“No – of course not – it’s just that I thought – I felt – you and me...” I don’t think I’ve ever been so miserable and embarrassed. “I thought you were – interested in me...”

That’s when he kissed me. Wallowing in self-disgust, I didn’t expect the soft brush of his lips against mine, the tease of his tongue flickering across my mouth before he pulled back. I gasped. The fire in my sex flared again at his touch, his taste, the heady scent that swirled around him.

“I am interested. Very much so. I feel like there’s some kind of strong connection between us.”

So he felt it too. “But...”

“I like girls as well as guys. And Scott’s not the jealous type. Come on, I’ll introduce you.”