Masturbation Monday - A Fantasy from Exposure (#masturbation #suspense #erotica)

I don’t usually participate in Masturbation Monday, since I mostly host sneak peeks on that day. I happened to have today free, so I thought I’d give it a go!

Here’s a scene from my erotic thriller Exposure for your delectation.

Let me know what you think!

“So, Stella, are we still on for tonight?”

Images of our last meeting flood my memory. I become all loose and warm with the recollection. I know that he can sweep away all my tensions and fears, at least for a little while. Which is why I have to refuse him.

“I’m sorry, Jimmy, but I’ve been feeling really wiped out. My ankle’s still killing me, too. I think it would be better if I took a rain check.”

There’s a long silence. When he speaks again, I hear the pain in his voice. “Are you sure, Stella? We could do something really low key. Why don’t I bring over some take-out and we can just sit and watch TV?”

I want so much to accept. I remind myself about the doll, the break-in, my mangled tomato plants. “I don’t think so, Jimmy. Not tonight, anyway.”

“It’s not...the park, is it? What we did? I’m sorry I came on so strong...”

“Don’t be silly! I was the one who seduced you. And it was great, Jim. I loved it, I really did.” The other memories are getting the upper hand, memories of his gentle fingers and assertive tongue. “I’d love to do it again. Just not tonight, okay?”

“Okay, whatever you say. You can call me anytime. Day or night. You know that, don’t you?”

I want him so badly that I can hardly keep my voice steady. “Yes, I know. I’ll call you soon.”

“Take care of yourself, Stella.”

“You too, Jimmy.” The mob boss pops into my head, and I worry briefly about Jimmy’s safety. But he’s a cop, right? I’ve got to believe he can manage things for himself.

By the time I hang up, my desire for Jimmy has me tied in knots. I can spare a few minutes, I figure, to do something about that.

I’m still wearing my robe. I shuck it off my shoulders and spread it on the carpet, then lie down on my back on top of the plush terry cloth. My nipples are tight, aching bullets of flesh. I cup the weight of my breasts in my palms and flick my thumbs across the stiffened tips, sending shocks through my body with each stroke.

It’s not enough. Readjusting my body a bit, I manage to take a nipple into my own mouth. I suck hard, imagining it’s Jimmy’s eager tongue that’s rasping over the sensitive flesh. I see myself feeding him my lush tits, first one, then the other, while I stroke away at his smooth shaft. Just suckling me would be enough to get him off, I suspect. I sense his cock contracting in advance of his convulsion and let go, pushing his head down toward my pussy instead.

Very few men know how to eat pussy, I’ve found. I don’t know yet how Jimmy will do, but I picture him between my thighs, licking and nibbling. Meanwhile, I simulate the effects of his tongue, working my cunt with both hands. I’m as slick as if I’ve been oiled, inside and out. My fingers of my left hand glide over my swollen lower lips to settle deep inside my cunt. I massage the inner muscles, feeling them pulse whenever my other hand squeezes my clit. I bring in my heels, closer to my butt, so that I can rock my pelvis against my hands, one probing, the other circling, teasing, flicking across the rigid nub until I can hardly stand it. My thighs spread wider as I imagine Jimmy burrowing deeper. “More,” I whisper. “More...”

He’s using his hands now as well as his mouth, holding me open while he sucks me for all he’s worth. His thumb continues to prod and tickle my clit. I writhe and arch against him every time he touches it. Now his other hand is wandering. He slips two fingers into my cunt and pumps in time with his suction. “More,” I moan, close now but needing just that extra little push to send me over the edge.

He’s listening. He’s tuned in to what my body needs. There’s a brief awful moment of loss when he pulls his fingers from my cunt. Before this registers, though, he plunges his thumb into me in their place. And then, half a breath later, he slides one of the liberated fingers smoothly into my ass.

Oh, Jimmy, you’re so nasty, I think as I scream and topple into bliss. Who’d ever believe a nice, respectful guy like you would be like that? My body continues to shake with the aftershocks of the climax, my pelvis jerking in the air.

Would he really be like that? I wonder vaguely. I want more than ever to find out.

Finally, I relax and stretch out my legs. I cringe at the sharp pain in my ankle. Right. Until a few minutes ago half my weight was on that ankle, as I strained my pussy toward the ceiling, trying to come. Got to be more careful when I play with myself, or I’ll never heal. Next time, I should lie on my stomach. Or maybe do it on my hands and knees, so I can imagine Jimmy screwing me doggy style...

I’m actually getting turned on again, enough that the pain begins to fade. The pictures are rolling in my mind again, clearer than ever. Jimmy’s grinning at me, his cheeks smeared with my juices, as he positions himself behind my elevated butt. He leans over and slides his tongue up my crack from front to rear. The next thing I feel is his swollen knob, rubbing back and forth outside my well-lubricated cleft.

My phone rings, rudely shattering my fantasy. I hope it’s not Jimmy again, trying to make me change my mind. Because at this point, I’m not sure I have the strength to say no to him.

Sunday Snog: Exposure

Today's snog comes from my newest release Exposure.  My heroine Stella has been mugged by a gang who clearly don't want her to continue her investigations into the murder of Tony Pinelli. She's stuck at home with bruises and torn muscles, wondering who set her up. Then she gets a phone call from Jimmy Ostermann, the police detective who's carried a torch for her since high school. Still, he has behaved suspiciously over the past few days. She has decided that seeing him would be dangerous. But she can't resist.

As part of the celebration for the release of Exposure, I'm giving away a copy of the book to one lucky reader who comments on my Thursday post, or here. Comment on both and you have two chances to win!

And don't forget to check out today's other kiss offerings, over at Snog Central!

There’s an awkward silence. I can hear Jimmy’s breathing on the other end of the line, and my own heartbeat, speeding up. I’m beginning to feel warm again. Even hot.

“So, what are you doing?”

“Not much. Reading, watching TV. Trying to relax.”

“Would you like some company?”

Loneliness slams into me and runs over my body like a ten ton truck. Do I want company? God, I’ve never felt so alone in my life.

Be careful, I tell myself. You can’t trust anyone.

“I don’t know, Jimmy...” I begin.

“It’s okay, I understand. I’m sorry that I asked.” He sounds so lost, so forlorn. So sexy.

Screw being careful. “Yes, I’d love some company. I’m going crazy here, all by myself.”

“Really? You don’t mind?”

“Really. I’m not up to my usual form, but I’d love to see you.”

I can imagine Jimmy’s ear-to-ear grin. “Well, then. I’ll be right over. See you in about fifteen minutes, okay?”

“Great, Jimmy. See you.”

I know I’m being weak, but I’m really too excited to care. Fifteen minutes. Just enough time to change. Should I put on those black satin lounging pajamas I got on sale at Victoria’s Secret? Or maybe the embroidered silk kimono? On the other hand, maybe that’s coming on too strong. Jimmy finds me scary enough already. Perhaps the long hippie dress of Indian cotton is the right look. It’s casual and understated but still kind of exotic...

In the end, I don’t have the energy to climb the stairs to my closet. I figure that Jimmy’s an old friend, and he’s already seen me naked. I don’t have to put on a costume for him. I sit there on the sofa, wearing the lightweight summer bathrobe I put on when I got up from my nap. It’s that peach color that sets off my skin so well. It will have to do.

There’s a soft knock. I hobble over to the door and peer through the peephole to confirm that it’s Jimmy. It seems to take hours for me to unfasten the chain and retract the bolt, but I finally get the door open.

“Hi, Stella.” His voice is soft, concerned. It feels like a caress. “I didn’t want to ring the bell. Figured your nerves were kind of shot, the last thing you need is the jangling.”

Jimmy looks a bit rumpled. His sandy hair is in his eyes. His white business shirt is damp, wrinkled and untucked in the back. He needs a shave.

He looks good enough to eat.

“Come on in out the rain. I’m so glad to see you.”

“Not as glad as I am to see you.” Jimmy wraps his arms around me in what begins as a brotherly hug.

He buries his face in my hair, breathing deeply. “I’ve been so worried about you, Stella. This whole thing with the murders...”

“Shush, let’s not talk about that.” I am enjoying the feel of his lean, strong body pressed against mine. I ignore the dull ache from my bruised ribs. I want him to be my only reality. He smells clean, despite his disarray: soap, menthol, some kind of lemony aftershave. Just a hint of sweat, enough to blend the other scents into something organic and distinctly Jimmy. Breathing him in, I feel a bit light-headed, like he was some kind of drug. My knees go weak, and I hold onto him more tightly.

“Stella...” he whispers. His hands begin to roam, gliding from my back under my arms to cradle my breasts. He holds them almost reverently, ignoring for the moment the swollen, demanding nipples poking into his chest.

I adjust my position, inserting one thigh between his legs, to seek out the rigid bulk I know I’ll find there. Ooh, Jimmy! Very nice! I rub myself back and forth over his cock, teasing, feeling him grow even bigger and harder. A shudder runs through his frame and I think for a moment that I’ve gone too far, that he’s already going to come. I try to back away, but he grabs me and pulls me back, grinding his thigh against my pubis.

Even through two layers of cloth, my clit pulses and throbs exquisitely. I reach around and grab his butt cheeks so that I can control the friction. He does the same to me. For I don’t know how long, we stand there tangled up in the doorway, dry-humping each other like two teenagers.

I’m halfway to coming, when he stops suddenly. I start to protest, but he silences me with a rich, delicious kiss. It’s strong and sweet like Greek coffee, brazen tongue probing, shy lips nibbling. I kiss him back eagerly, trying to pour all my gratitude and my lust into the moment.

All at once I’m off balance. Before I realize what is happening, Jimmy sweeps me up in his arms and carries me into the parlor. “Jimmy, you’ll hurt yourself!” I’m half laughing, half concerned. I’m not a small woman, and Jimmy’s no Arnold Schwarzenegger.

“Just relax and let me do the work.” He settles me gently on the couch and for a moment just stands back to look at me, something like adoration in his eyes. I’m embarrassed by his intensity. I focus my attention on the appealing bulge in his groin.

“Why don’t you open your fly and make yourself more comfortable?” I reach for his zipper, but he catches my hands in his, holding them tight. His lips twist in an odd half-smile.

“Why don’t you let someone else take control for a change?”

 ****

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An Interview with Stella Xanthakeos

Stella Xanathakeos is the heroine of my erotic thriller Exposure. She's the sort of kick-ass woman I wish I was. Stella works as an exotic dancer at the Peacock Lounge. One night she accepts a contract to do a private dance for a city bigwig and ends up as the only witness to a double murder. Before long she realizes that she can't trust anyone, not even her old friend, Police Detective Jimmy Ostrowski. Her only option is to untangle the motivations for the murder by herself. Her quest for the truth makes her everyone's target, and she risks losing everything she cares about.

Lisabet: Greetings, Stella! Welcome to Beyond Romance. I wonder if you could tell my readers a bit about your job. Why do you work as a stripper?

Stella: You want the truth? I like it. Heck, I love it. I've always liked to dance. Working at the Peacock lets me do what I love and get paid pretty well, too. And I'm not being conceited when I say that I'm very good at what I do. Ask Joey, my boss, or any of the other girls. Or better yet, ask the customers! I leave them gasping for more.

Lisabet: Doesn't it bother you to show off your body to strangers?

Stella: Not in the least. It's a kind of revenge, in a way, for all those awful years in school when guys would tease me about the size of my tits. Not to mention how everyone was always trying to get into my pants. Now I'm the one in charge. They can look, but they can't touch. I'm not a hooker, you know; most strippers aren't. I'm pretty choosey about men—I have to really like a guy, really trust him, before I'll go to bed with him.

Lisabet: So how do you feel about Jimmy Ostrowski?

Stella: Ah, Jimmy! I've know him since high school. He never had the courage to ask me out, but when I went to him about the murders, I could tell he really had it bad for me. He's solid, the kind of guy I could get serious about. But now I'm not sure I can trust even him. The night I went to dinner with Jimmy, somebody broke in to my house and messed up all my things. Nobody but Jimmy knew that I was going to be out that night...

Lisabet: And what about Francesca Pinelli? How do you feel about her?

Stella: Tony's widow? Well—she's smart, that's for sure, and she knows what she wants. In some ways she's like me. It's hard to say no to her. When she asked me to be her campaign manager, I practically laughed in her face. A high-class woman like her, running for mayor, and she wants a stripper to manage her campaign? But I ended up agreeing. I'm still not sure that was the right decision, but I thought being around her would give me some opportunities to investigate why Tony was killed.

Lisabet: Well, I don't want to ask you too many more questions. Since Exposure is a thriller, I definitely don't want to give away the plot. So let me ask you one last thing. Do you regret anything you've done since Tony was shot?

Stella: Hmm. That's a tough question. Would there have been less violence and tragedy if I'd minded my own business and not tried to figure out what was going on? Could I have avoided the emotional scars? Maybe. But you know, I'm just not the sort of person to shrug my shoulders. I'm not going to mind my own business, if something's wrong. That just isn't me.

Lisabet: And you'd never have discovered how you feel about Jimmy and vice versa.

Stella: Maybe not. In any case, it's kind of pointless to play these “what if” games. We all do what we have to do. Then we take the consequences.

Exposure is available from Phaze Books. (http://www.king-cart.com/Phaze/product=Exposure/exact_match=exact)

Note that the book includes F/F as well as M/F interactions.