Sunday Snog #126: The Eyes of Bast

Greetings! I spent today revising and formatting The Eyes of Bast (formerly "Cat Toy") for submission to Books We Love. It's now winging its way to their editors and cover artists. Anyway, I thought I'd share yet another kiss from the book with you. (For a 27K word book, it includes a lot of snogs!)

When you're done with my Snog, head back to Blisse Kiss central for more erotic oral action.

I found my apartment door locked. Had Tom not returned yet? The studio was dark, all the lights out and the blinds drawn as I'd left them. “Tom?” My voice was hoarse with fear. She found him. She's caught him.

A man-shaped shadow rose from the chair near the window. “Shaina! Thank the gods you're safe!” In an instant, I was wrapped in his strong arms, with his face buried in my hair. Peace and comfort flooded in, washing away my worry and uncertainty. This was where I belonged.

Unerring even in the darkness, his lips found mine. I opened automatically, drinking in his sweet, wild flavor. He smelled of smoke and earth, crisp nights and growing things. The tension that had sustained me through my encounter with the sorceress vanished, so that for a moment I felt limp and weak. Taking advantage of my lassitude, he drew me closer, the rigid bulk in his trousers rooting in the gap between my thighs and making me gasp. As he boldly probed my mouth, his hands roamed over my curves to my ass and pulled me tighter still.

Fierce need swept through me like a forest fire. I threaded my fingers into his wiry curls and took over the kiss, sucking his tongue into my mouth, gnawing on his lips, devouring him. With a growl, he sank his fingernails into my butt – I could feel the bite even through my jeans - and ground his erection against me. The friction kindled sparks in my swollen clit. They shot through me, lighting up my body like fireworks. 

His muscles shifted like bands of steel under his shirt, under my hands. My fingers itched to feel his nakedness. At the same time, I was unwilling to release my hold on him so that we could get undressed. Desperate with desire, clutching and writhing, we rocked against one another like boats caught in a storm. 

“Now,” he groaned into my mouth. “I want you now!” We managed to separate long enough to tear off our clothes. Tom seized me around the waist and dragged me to the floor. He flipped me onto my stomach as though I weighed nothing, then grabbed my hips to haul me up to my hands and knees. His nails dug stinging crescents into my bare ass and his coarse pubic hair scratched the back of my thighs.

“Tom...?” I peered over my shoulder at his looming figure. His roughness both thrilled and scared me. He was so much stronger than I was. I could never fight him off.

But why was I thinking about fighting? I wanted everything he had to give me. 

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: Tease

My snog today comes from my short story "Tease", published in my new BDSM collection Spank Me Again, Stranger. It's pure erotica - pure sensation. The narrator is blind-folded and bound.

Don't forget to check in with Victoria for more sexy lip action!

No one has touched me yet, but I know that they are there, around the table. Men, and women too, watching me, admiring my exposed and helpless body splayed out before them. No one has laid a finger on me, yet I am suddenly, overwhelmingly aroused at the mere thought of their presence and their gaze. My pussy swells and spills over. I feel a trail of moisture slip down over my butt cheeks and into the crevice between them. My unseen companions release a collective breath.

Then there is a shock, the first touch, someone's tongue briefly licking up the pearly drops beaded on my fevered skin. I shudder, close to climax from this one contact, which is gone almost before I can register it. I strain, unsuccessfully, to spread my thighs wider, mutely offering my aching sex to their fingers and mouths. Something like a laugh ripples through the crowd of watchers.

My knees are bent, my ankles fastened securely with something soft but strong, close to my buttocks. This position opens both my cunt and my ass to their eyes and their touch. My arms are loosely raised above my head, wrists bound together and then to the table. It is surprising how little freedom I have to move, considering how gentle these bonds seem.

My nipples tighten into throbbing buds of need. Someone notices and brushes his palms (her palms?) symmetrically over them, once, twice, sending electric shivers down my spine. Once again, the touch is transient, merely a tease. I moan, begging without words, arch my back toward those hands that I sense are poised above my breasts, just out of reach.

"Sshh", says a soft voice near my ear. "Hush." Then there are smooth lips sealing mine, a delicate tongue slithering between them, a taste of lemon and cinnamon. My nipples are caught between strong fingers that squeeze until pain blazes on the edges of the pleasure. I open my mouth to moan, but my voice is stopped by a suddenly rough tongue.

'The grip on my nipples is unexpectedly released. Rings of sensation radiate over my breasts like ripples on a pond. My cunt vibrates in resonance. Before I can catch my breath, someone takes my clit between finger and thumb, squeezing hard. I explode, neon colors flashing on my closed eyelids, my body twitching and shivering. For long moments, I surrender to the delicious spasms racing through me. I forget that I am not alone.

Sunday Snog: An Intense Kiss from Quarantine

Happy Snogday - I mean Sunday. I've got a short but intense kiss for you today, from Quarantine.  By the way, the book is now available on Amazon, both in Kindle format and in print!

After you've savored my kiss, head back to Victoria Blisse's place, for links to snogs from all your favorite authors.

Somehow he and Rafe made it up to their room, tore off their clothing, and collapsed on the bed in each other’s arms. The mattress rocked beneath him like a boat pitched about by a storm. He was safe, though, held tight against Rafe’s solid chest, feeling the swell and dip of Rafe’s breathing. His legs tangled with Rafe’s muscle-corded thighs. Rafe was hard and strong, a man of ebony and steel, yet his lips were tender and pillow-soft as they nuzzled Dylan’s earlobe.

“I love you,” the black man murmured. “You’re my life now.”

“Me, too.” Dylan’s words slurred but the emotions were crystal clear. “I love you too.”

Rafe lavished gentle kisses on his eyelids, his cheeks, his jaw, licking his face like a mother cat. When he claimed Dylan’s lips, though, the usual urgency burned in their connection.

Dylan tasted the fine whisky they’d both consumed, a sweetness edged with darker accents. More intoxicated than ever, he drank deep of his lover’s flavour. Rafe’s potent scent drowned him—long-dried sweat, ripe musk and a hint of semen from Kevin’s sheets. Blood rushed to swell his cock. Rafe’s fingers gripped his ass. He pulled Dylan’s pelvis against his groin, batting Dylan’s erection with his own massive rod.

Dylan’s belly grew slippery with pre-cum—Rafe’s and his own, intermingled. He hooked one leg around Rafe’s thighs to draw him closer. The black man’s mouth was still sealed to his own. Rafe would back off for a moment to nibble Dylan’s lip, then plunge his tongue back down Dylan’s throat, taking full control.

Dylan relaxed into the fierce embrace, more than willing to let Rafe take what he wanted. The black man’s cock, trapped between their bodies, felt huge. Dylan’s imagination ran fast forward to the moment when Rafe would flip him over and impale him. He couldn’t wait much longer. He could already feel the perfect, tearing ecstasy when the fat bulb pushed past his entrance, the ache of fullness as Rafe settled in his depths.

Quarantine Snog 1 - On the Run

It's almost time! Tomorrow is the day that Total-E-Bound releases my M/M scifi erotic romance Quarantine! So of course I have a snog from the book for you today. In fact, I'll have sexy M/M snogs every week during July, as part of my Man-fest blog celebration.

Every comment left on my blog between now and July 28th counts as an entry toward my grand prize of a $50 bookstore gift certificate. Furthermore, I'm running a blog tour on other authors' sites, giving away an ebook prize at every single one! (Those entries count toward the grand prize, too!)

And last but certainly not least, don't forget to visit Victoria Blisse at Snog Central. If you like sexy kisses, you'll find a host of other authors ready to give you what you want!

The snog below comes from early in Quarantine. Rafe and Dylan have managed to escape from Camp Malheur, but Dylan nearly succumbed to the fumes from the moat of toxic waste surrounding the camp. Rafe has found a temporary sanctuary in an abandoned gas station and tended to Dylan's needs - medical and otherwise.

****

The calm afterward felt strange. Dylan wasn’t used to this kind of peace. Rafe sprawled on top of Dylan’s body, his nappy head on Dylan’s shoulder. The weight felt comfortable, satisfying, completely right. Their legs tangled together and that felt right, too. So did the stickiness joining their abdomens.

Dylan raised a hand to his face. The blisters had started to scab over. The pain had faded. His throat was still a bit raw, but far less than before.

All the tension had evaporated. He knew, intellectually, that they were on the run, that they needed to keep moving, that they’d have to deal soon with the issues of food, clothing, and transport. Somehow none of it mattered. As long as he was here with Rafe, everything was fine.

His dark lover stirred in his arms. Rafe raised his head and searched Dylan’s face.

“How are you?” he asked.

“Much better. Can’t you tell?”

The burly ex-guard grinned. “Yeah, well you look pretty good. Well-fucked.”

“I am. Thanks to you.”

Rafe leaned forward as though to kiss him, then stopped himself. “Your lips still look chapped.”

Dylan pulled him closer. “Never mind that.” The kiss hurt, but not as much as forgoing it would have.

Rafe nuzzled his ear, sending bolts of pleasure straight to Dylan’s groin.

“I love you,” he whispered, so soft that Dylan could barely hear. “I must be crazy, but I can’t fucking help it.”

Dylan stroked Rafe’s cheek and gazed into his chocolate eyes. “I love you too.” For the first time, he meant it.

****

Be the first person you know to read Quarantine!

http://www.total-e-bound.com/product.asp?P_ID=1725

A Forbidden Kiss from Opening Night

My snog today comes from my M/M alternative history story, Opening Night.  Set in London in 1887, on the eve of the first performance of Gilbert and Sullivan's opera "Ruddigore", the story dares to imagine what might have happened if a brash young leading man had seduced the brilliant comic lyricist William Gilbert. The story is part of my collection Body Electric, available at Amazon.

Of course, by now I don't have to remind you to visit Victoria Blisse and check out all the other sultry snogs posted by my fellow authors. Because you can never have too many kisses!

It was past ten when a knock woke him from a doze that must have crept up on him despite the fear of nightmares. "Yes, who is it?"

 

His visitor didn't wait to be invited in. "It's me, William. It's Frank."

Gilbert bolted upright, anger providing him with sudden energy. Red boiled behind his eyelids. "What are you doing here? I can't have you here. Get out, this instant."

The younger man shut the door. He sidled over in Gilbert's direction. Gilbert backed away. "I needed to see you, William. To talk to you, about the other afternoon. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have pushed you so hard."

"Never mind. Just go away now. Please, go away."

"I apologize for being so rude, so insensitive. I've been wanting you so long, it just seemed natural to say it. To show you. I should have realized how new this would be for you, how shocking." With theatrical grace, Wilson glided to his knees in front of Gilbert, his head bowed. "Forgive me, please."

Gilbert gazed down at Frank's golden curls, gleaming in the harsh electric light. He smelled the man's floral cologne. Damn, his heart was beating like thunder, and there was an uncomfortable tightness in his crotch. Damn, damn, damn.

"Get up," he said gruffly. "Show a bit of self-respect, Wilson."

"Not until I hear you say that I'm forgiven."

"Fine, fine, I forgive you, now get up and go."

Gilbert didn't understand how he did it, but all at once Frank was standing in front of him, face to face, close, much too close. He was taller than Gilbert and had to bend to whisper.

"Thank you, William." Then Gilbert felt the man's mouth on his own. He felt Frank's tongue toying with his mustache, tickling, probing, tentative at first, then bold and confident as Gilbert opened his lips.

Gilbert's resistance melted. Frank's arms encircled him, and Gilbert reciprocated, stirred by the sensation of strength in those young limbs. Frank tasted of horehound and tobacco, masculine and yet sweet. Frank kissed him eagerly, passionately, and from some place he had not known existed, Gilbert responded with equal passion.

He felt the hard, hot lump that he knew was Frank's cock, grinding against his thigh. Somehow this did not terrify or appall him. He welcomed it, exquisitely aware that his own cock was swollen and sensitive.

The dark clouds that had haunted him for the past two days dissolved in the brilliance of Frank's kiss. Gilbert did not think, did not worry or reason or judge. For the first time in a very long time, he simply allowed himself to feel.

Frank brought his hand down to fondle Gilbert's erection. For the briefest instant, Gilbert rejoiced at the touch. Then the weight of reality, the burden of thought, came crashing down upon him.

"No!" Gilbert hissed. "No! Stop. We must stop."

"But, William..." Frank aimed a kiss at him; Gilbert twisted away.

"We cannot do this. I cannot."

Frank dusted a finger lightly over Gilbert's groin. "Oh, I think you can, and quite well, too."

Feeling Hot, Hot, Hot.

By Victoria Blisse

Hello, Lisabet and readers!

It’s a pleasure to be here today to promote my work with Coming Together. I’m really lucky to be able to say that I’ve been involved with all this erotic altruism from the start. In fact my story “Not What You See, What You Feel” is the very first story in the very first Coming Together volume! http://www.eroticanthology.com/v1.htm

I love the idea of authors coming together and using their talents to benefit good causes. We all lead such busy lives and I know that we all have budgets and so it’s hard to contribute to charity as much as we’d like too. However when you pick up a volume of Coming Together Erotica you get a book full of hot treats and you give all that dosh you’ve contributed (minus a little for processing in some cases) to a good cause. I mean, you just can’t lose.

I’m going to focus on my other Coming Together story today. It’s called "Flaming Hot" and appears in the Coming Together: Under Fire anthology as well as being available as an individual title. All profits go to aid the victims of the 2007 Southern California wildfires. It’s a sweet little tease about a lady who has bought some very hot (and expensive) lingerie and is hoping to persuade him it was worth the money spent by seducing him in her prized purchases.

Here’s an excerpt for you!

*****

Now I remember exactly why we don't light this damn thing often. I've got a splinter in my finger, my hair is pulled from its confines in frustration, and there's soot and ash smudged all over my cheeks and arms! But, oh, it is comforting to have a real fire burning in the grate.

"Shit," I hiss, glancing at my watch. I can't waste time admiring the flickering flames that I brought forth any longer, I need to change and get organised. He'll be home from work in just an hour. I quickly strip off my white, soot-marked T-shirt and the plain bra beneath it. I quickly wash off all the muck from my skin and head to the bedroom.

I pick up the red lacy bra and smile. It called to me as I was shopping for an everyday, comfortable kind of bra. I was necessity shopping, and I really didn't have the time or money to entertain frivolity. However, the deep scarlet lace and the vibrant orange and yellow flames embroidered onto it seemed to pull me in. When I saw the cute knickers to match, I was a goner. I tried them on, hoping they'd be uncomfortable, praying they'd be too tight—but no; they fit snugly, and they looked good.

I'm not a loud lingerie buyer, but as I stood behind that thick blue curtain of the dressing room staring into the mirror, I decided I had to have this soft, lacy sexiness. In fact, I wanted to stride into the store proper and show everyone how sexy I looked in it. Thank God, I did resist the temptation.

I wish I'd resisted the temptation to buy them too, because I'm not sure my husband will understand my expensive urge. Hence, the plan.

I wriggle into the red lace panties, the flames licking up the V of my crotch and heating me. Adding the bra that sets my breasts on fire, I notice my hardened nipples as they swish against the luxurious fabric. I spot myself with my favourite perfume and let my hair down from the tight clip I typically use to hold it in place. The curls tumble onto my shoulders and add another swirl of sensuality to my look.

The plan is to surprise Sean when he comes home from work tonight. I plan to lure him into sex in front of the roaring fire, and then I hope he will overlook the expense of the outfit that made his wife so damned horny. I'm sure it'll work, especially as he's been complaining about the lack of sex in recent times. I don't deal well with stress, and it's been a time and a half with the inspectors at work and all the extra paperwork that entails. But, it's all over now, and we passed with flying colours. And now, I have new flame undies that get me hot. Life couldn't get much better.

The clothes inspired the fire idea. The lovely old Victorian fireplace was one of the main reasons we bought this place, but I can count on one hand the number of times we've lit a fire in it. Today, it's all about flames. The flickering heat of the fire will compliment my outfit beautifully.

Another quick check of my watch before I take off the time piece, then I careen downstairs. He's due back any minute. I fill a deep plastic tub with ice and plunge a bottle of something fresh and bubbly into it then carry it carefully into the living room and place it on the coffee table at the end of the sofa.

The soft, furry rug that feels so good beneath my toes feels even better rubbing along my buttocks and thighs. I wiggle around to get comfortable and find myself wiggling more out of sheer arousal. The soft fibres brush gently over my soft, white flesh, and I lie down to feel them stimulating more skin.

The soft tickling on my shoulder blades is heavenly, but I am aware that Sean will walk through the door any minute. So, I need to find a more alluring position. I roll onto my side and look towards the door that leads into the hall way. I prop my head up on one hand, kink my top leg and rest my hand on that thigh. I concentrate on thinking sexy thoughts and hope that my eyes convey my mood.

After a few minutes, I feel my fingers going numb. A few minutes more, and I have pins and needles pricking my wrist and palms. I roll onto my back to shake and wiggle my arm and return the circulation to it.

"Where the hell is he?" I curse, fighting down the urge to strip off and sulk. It's probably just bad traffic. I calm myself with deep breaths, hypnotising myself with the rise and fall of my large breasts.

I forget the need to assume a new sexy pose as the tickling rug reminds me to revel in the sensuality of this moment. I run my hands down my chest and over my lace-covered breasts as I writhe against the soft fur and surprise myself by letting out a loud, low moan.

"Where the fuck is he?" I gasp, running my fingers over my stomach and down to my crotch. "He's missing all the fun." The heat of the fire plays up my legs and suffuses me, pushing lust to every nook and cranny. My fingers travel over the thin lace of my panties, teasing my puffy lips, and I feel the dampness seeping through.

"Fuck," I growl, rubbing my fingers over the damp material once again and tickling my eager clit. All I want to do is slip my hand inside my new knickers and wank. Yeah, I know that's a masculine term, harsh and unyielding, but that is just how I want to masturbate. I want to just fuck myself for the sake of fucking myself, to stimulate my cunt 'til I gush and squeeze and sigh.

And where is my damned husband? He should be home by now. I mean, even allowing for traffic, he should be home by now, here with me, helping me do something with all this pent up horniness. I really mean to pull my fingers away from my crotch. I even move my legs away from the fire intent on rolling to my side to wait like a good little wife, but as I curl my leg 'round, I press my fingers harder against my aching clit, and I find the temptation far too much to resist.

I run my fingers inside the soft rim of lace and, looking over to the door, I slip my fingers in. What could possibly be more alluring than finding your wife naked and writhing on the rug when you come in from work? I am definitely stroking my wet lips and parting them for his benefit.

Now, how can I masturbate and give a come hither look towards the door at the same time? I shift over onto my hip and keep my finger between my cunt lips quite easily. A slight bend of the knee and my free arm stretched long and nestled under my head as a pillow seems to work well for comfort and seduction.

It's not quite the hard, fast wank that I want, but there is a special kind of excitement in the confines of immobility. I can't quite touch myself in the way I want, and although I am feverishly rubbing, I only seem to be heightening my frustration. I'm getting hotter and hornier and more desperate just to roll onto my back and fuck myself, but I continue to tease myself, wanting to wait for him.

"Well, hell. Is it my birthday or something?"

"Sean," I gasp, my eyes fluttering open and my hand attempting to detangle itself from my underwear.

"No, leave it there." He grins, throwing off his jacket and pulling at his tie as he strides towards me. "Keep going. I want to enjoy the show."

*****

I hope you enjoyed this excerpt. Pick yourself up a copy and feel good for doing your bit for charity.

I want to do my bit so I’m going to give away a copy of Naughty Rendezvous to one lucky commenter today. Here’s what the book’s about.

Joe likes to tease and single mum Leanna loves it too. When they meet up for their first official date, the sparks fly but who's going to crack first? Will Joe's intimate questions and kiss and run tactics bring Leanna to her knees or will Leanna's curves, flashed in moments of exhibition drive Joe to rip off all her clothes and indulge his urges?

How will she react to Joe's domination and will she be turned on by his spankings? She's going to be a naughty girl, so she's bound to find out.

Leave me a comment and you’ll be entered to win, it’s as simple as that.

You can find out more about me and my many books at:

http://victoriablisse.co.uk

http://facebook.com/victoriablisse

http://twitter.com/victoriablisse

Thanks for having me, Lisabet, it’s always a pleasure visiting you.