My
Sizzling Sunday excerpt today is from my BDSM erotic romance The
Heart of the Deal: Business, Bondage, Discipline and Desire.
This book is currently free
at Smashwords as part of the Authors Give Back promotion.
Here’s
one of my favorite scenes – partially inspired by a real life drive
in a sports car along Mulholland Drive, many years ago!
* * *
“So,
for the trip home, why don’t I put down the top? It’s a lovely
evening. I’ll take us back along Mulholland Drive. Slower, but a
lot more scenic.”
“Why
not?” I fasten my hair into a loose ponytail and settle back in my
seat, steeling myself for another aching ride with him within arm’s
reach, a million miles away.
Driving
in the open car is a totally different experience, exhilarating and a
bit scary. The wind tears at my hair, tangles it in my eyes, steals
my breath. It’s too loud to talk, but we’re both laughing as he
steers the roadster off the highway and up into the hills.
Mulholland
Drive turns out to be a narrow, torturously twisted road that runs
along the crest of the mountains above Hollywood. Rick drives much
faster than seems safe, yet once again he’s relaxed and in control.
The MG careens around curves, hugging the pavement. My whole body
hums with excitement. I can’t tell how much is sexual and how much
born of our reckless velocity and the wildness of my hair whipping
around my face. The wind is simultaneously a slap and a caress
against my skin. I feel as though I am glowing. Totally alive.
My
sex is humming, too, quivering, throbbing along with the engine of
the car. Rick glances over at me. For the briefest instant, his eyes
are pools of pure lust. Triumph and fear simultaneously seize me. He
wants me. He’s dangerous. Then both emotions are submerged by the
answering lust flooding through me.
“Take
off your top,” he shouts at me above the wind. “I dare you.”
A
silly notion, I think, but I want to do it. I want to feel the wind
against my naked breasts. “Keep your eyes on the road,” I call
back. I pull my blouse over my head and push it down in the space
between the seat and the door so that it won’t blow away. Then I
slip my bra straps off my shoulders and peel the cups away from my
swollen nipples.
The
air dances over my heated flesh, cool, provocative. “Go ahead,
touch yourself,” Rick shouts. “You know you want to.”
He’s
right, and suddenly I don’t care that he’s there, or what he
thinks, I’ve got to pleasure myself. I grip my nipples between
index and forefingers, squeezing until the sensation reaches the edge
of pain. My cunt contracts as I release them, then contracts again at
the exquisite tickling of their stiffness against my palms. The wind
lashes my hair against my skin, sweet little stings that make me
hunger for more intense sensation. My clit is so swollen that the
slightest movement in the bucket seat sends sparks of pleasure
shooting through my body.
Rick
is yelling something again, but the wind carries his words away. He
makes a rude gesture, pantomimes raising my skirt. I’m already in
the process, wriggling against the seat belt as I try to pull the
fabric out from underneath my bum. Finally, I manage to free my
thighs from the skirt’s constriction. Looking straight at my
companion, I pull my soaked panties out of the way with one hand, and
sink the other one deep inside my hungering pussy.
Oh,
I love the look on his face, shock, astonishment, arousal, but the
sensations welling up in me are too intense to bear open-eyed. I’m
not delicate. I don’t tease myself, don’t play, don’t take
myself gradually to the top. No ceremony, no technique. Desperate, I
use both hands, working with single-minded fury to bring myself off.
I
forget Martell. I forget where I am, racing along a dangerous road at
a dangerous speed with a dangerous man. There is no reality but the
fire, the electricity, the tension crackling in my cunt like
lightning in a thunderhead. I tilt my pelvis, forcing my fingers
deeper into my slippery depths. My thighs stick to the leather seats
as I rock back and forth. In and out, faster, harder, more, more
please just a little more…
The
climax is sudden and unexpected. A shattering like glass, fragments
ripping gloriously through my stretched flesh. Momentary blackness
cloaks the setting sun. When I finally open my eyes, I find I’m
slumped in the seat, skirt and bra tangled around my waist, still
trembling.
