Sunday Snog 225: Exposure (#erotic #suspense #sundaysnog)

My Sunday Snog today comes from my erotic suspense novel Exposure. I’ve been thinking about my heroine, Stella—in fact, I have a post about her over at Oh Get a Grip tomorrow—so I thought I’d let her come out and play.

After you’re finished here, I hope you’ll head back to Victoria’splace, for more sexy Sunday kisses.

Sex, blood and betrayal... It’s all in a day’s work.

Finally, he puts down his drink. “Shall we get started? Let me get a bit more comfortable.” He shrugs off his suit jacket and places it over the desk chair. I gasp as I see that he is wearing a revolver in a shoulder holster. He smiles, just a little, as he removes this and hangs it over the chair on top of the jacket. “I’m a dangerous man, Stella, and I have many enemies. I have to take care of myself.” I nod vaguely. I’m not exactly reassured.

He seats himself back on the sofa. “The stereo is over there,” he says, pointing to a complicated pile of audio equipment next to the bar. Somehow, I figure out how where insert my thumb drive and how to start it playing. I turn to face my audience.

The first bars of the music free me from any anxiety. I fix my eyes on him and begin to move. Graceful. Sensual. I’m extremely turned on, but I want this performance to be classy, not raunchy the way I sometimes am.

The shoes go first. Now I unfasten my jacket, lingering over each button. Building the suspense. I’m wearing regular lingerie, flimsy and feminine, instead of one of my costumes. My breasts are like melons, encased in black lace. No padding or wires on this bra; my nipples are clearly visible, pushing the fabric into sweet little peaks.

I do the classic strip, turning my back and inching the skirt zipper down. Shimmying the garment over my hips to my ankles. I feel his eyes on my rump. When I turn back to face him, I try out the stare on him. The results are mixed.

He’s not closed off like his friend. I can see deep into his soul. I see passion, hunger, clean and healthy. Not twisted and painful like some of the guys at the lounge.

At the same time, though, I feel like he sees into me. It’s like he’s touching me inside, probing, trying to discover what I want. It’s strange and very intimate. His eyes make my clit harden and my juices flow.

But my eyes are doing the same to him. I can see the bulge in his tailored trousers. His breath is coming a bit more quickly, too.

I unfasten the bra in front. Instead of tossing it at him, which is my first idea, I let it drift to the floor. I caress my breasts, as much for my own pleasure as for his. I love their heaviness in my hands. I love the way the skin shades to rich darkness at their tips. And the nipples themselves, round and firm like the best Kalamata olives. I roll them between my fingers, my breath starting to become ragged.

Finally, there are just my bikini panties between me and nakedness. I hold off as long as I can, letting the music build to its climax. At the crescendo, I undo the ribbons at each hip, so the thing just falls away from my body. For a moment I stand there proudly, my curly black pubic hair glistening with my own moisture. Tony’s eyes devour me. Then the music dies away. I sink to the carpet in a curtsy, strangely exhausted.

I came here to dance. Just a job. But now I want more. And so does Tony.

]He lifts me up. He embraces me. Neither of us speaks. We communicate only through the kiss. His mouth feels gentler than it looks. He tastes like his expensive scotch. I let myself relax, feel the stiffness of his starched shirt against my bare skin. There’s more stiffness below. He rubs his erection against my damp bush, making me damper still, while his tongue plays with mine. His fingers lock on to my nipples, pinching them until I squirm with pleasure.

This is certainly a nice bonus. He strips off his shirt, pants, and briefs. He leaves his socks on, and for once, I don’t mind. I usually think naked guys in socks look ridiculous, but nothing so simple could spoil Tony Pinelli. Reaching into his jacket pocket, he pulls out a condom. Of course he’s prepared.

Sound like something you’d enjoy? Get your own copy (available in ebook and print) at your favorite book store:

Amazon US

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B00OMFS2B8

Amazon UK

https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B00OMFS2B8

Barnes and Noble

http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/exposure-lisabet-sarai/1100071258?ean=2940150748750

Kobo

https://store.kobobooks.com/en-us/ebook/exposure-50

Excessica

http://www.excessica.com/books/index.php?main_page=product_info&cPath=29&products_id=769

I'm part of Werewolf Week! (#werewolf #interview #eroticromance)

Kate Hill has been hosting a massive celebration of wolf shifters over at her blog Compelling Beasts. She invited my werewolf from Rajasthani Moon to come by and answer here questions. You'll find the interview, plus a thrilling excerpt featuring a werewolf attack, here:

http://kate-hill.com/compellingbeastsblog/2016/04/28/werewolf-week-character-interview-with-pratan-pratihar-from-rajasthani-moon-by-lisabet-sarai/

She wouldn't let me post a picture of Pratan. Here's how I imagine him. 

Wouldn't you fall in love with this guy?

The excerpt at Kate's focuses on shape shifting. If you're looking for something sexier, try this one...

Pratan lifted her off the horse. She cringed at the nasty slurping sound as her pussy and rear hole released the twin dildos. Both orifices felt loose and raw. Her shoulders and thighs ached from the strain of fighting off orgasms.

Cradling her in his arms, the bandit carried her to a low divan near one wall and laid her gently on the silken cushions. Despite the soft fabric, the stripes on her back flared into fresh anguish.

“Thank you.” Her voice was hoarse and strange to her ears. “I don’t think I could have borne any more.”

“What makes you think we’re finished?” he asked with a devilish grin. Nevertheless his touch was tender as he brushed her tangled hair off her forehead. Kneeling beside the couch, he turned her face to his.

Those eyes again. The eyes of a madman—a beast—a god. She wanted to look away, but his gaze held her fast, searching her mind, or so it seemed. An awful temptation seized her. She would tell him everything—about the parchment, about her mission… Perhaps then he would be merciful and let her rest.

Before she could act on the impulse, though, he leaned in to claim a kiss. Automatically, despite her sore muscles, she reached up to encircle him with her arms. His firm lips sealed hers, capturing her moans of new pleasure. Her battered cunny wept with new need. As he plundered her mouth like the brigand he was, Cecily could do nothing but surrender.

He tasted of spices, the remnants of their lavish repast. Hot musk rose from his sweat-slicked skin. She felt his knotted muscles bunch and twist under her fingers as he straddled her prone form, their mouths still locked. His rigid member prodded her pubis. Despite her exhaustion and pain, she wanted him. Arching her back, she struggled to align her cleft with his teasing cock. Her stretched quim had never felt so empty.

Pratan broke the kiss, chuckling. Now he gripped her wrists in his huge hands, trapping her against the upholstery. “I thought you’d had enough!”

Sunday Snog 222: Her Secret Ingredient (#romance #humor #bdsm)

Happy Sunday!

If all goes well, I should be back from my travels by the time this post goes live. But just in case... I didn't want to leave you without a Sunday kiss!

I hope you had fun during my Back List Blast. I'll announce the winners in a couple of days.

In fact, I'll count this post in the blast, too. If you would like to win a copy of this book, leave a comment with your email telling me so!

“Even our Monsieur le Chef can be swayed by great food. The desserts – oh, I’ve just got to try one of these...”

“No! Harry...”

Before I could stop him, though, he’d nipped a cream puff off the pile and popped it into his mouth. His eyes went wide as he chewed and swallowed.

“Unbelievable! Give me another...”

“Please, no...!” I grabbed at his arm, but it was too late. He’d already devoured a second choux. “Those are supposed to be for Etienne...”

“Come on, you’ve made at least two dozen. He won’t miss one or two.” Harry made as if to reach for a third puff. I hung on, trying to restrain him, but he was far stronger than I. Under that dorky clothing, I felt his muscles tense and shift.

He halted, his fingers inches away from its target, as if suddenly aware of my touch. Turning away from the tower of pastries, he gazed down at me. Behind his glasses, his mocha-coloured eyes gleamed with powerful purpose.

“Harry?” My stomach did a somersault. My cheeks felt as though they’d just come out of the oven. Meanwhile he held me in that fierce, all-consuming stare.

My right hand still gripped his left arm, near the shoulder. He reached out to rest his on my shoulder, as if we were about to dance. “You know, I actually see something a lot sweeter right here.” He slid his palm down my back and pulled me to his chest with a decisiveness that sent my pulse into overdrive. When he leaned in close, I smelled the almonds on his breath.

“Harry...I don’t think...”

“Shh!” He enforced this directive by fastening his mouth on mine in an energetic kiss.

He tasted, unsurprisingly, of sugar and cream. His firm lips moulded to mine while his tongue teased at the seam, coaxing me to open. I shouldn’t have given in, but I honestly couldn’t help it. He might look like a bit of nerd, but this guy really knew what he was doing. Wet, but not sloppy – forceful, but not brutal – alternating between deep penetration and playful flickering – he kissed with consummate sensuality. All I wanted was to swoon in his arms, to let him take me over. He seemed eager to oblige.

The hand on my back wandered down to cup my ass and pull my pelvis against his. I gasped at the size and rigidity of the lump pressed against my pubis. My nipples snapped into aching knots and moisture flooded my already damp panties. He laced the fingers of his other hand through my hair, using them to control the position of my head as he drank his fill of me.

His mouth slipped away from mine to nuzzle below my ear, somehow finding the precise spot that’s directly connected to my clit. Meanwhile he groped my breasts, squeezing hard – harder than I usually like, but now I actually wanted more.

Apparently he did, too. He tugged at my blouse, trying to pull it out from the waistband of my skirt, and finally succeeding. The first graze of his fingertips along my naked skin sent a wave of arousal crashing through me.

“Wait – no – aah...oh...” My protests faltered as he deftly extricated one of my breasts and caught the nipple between his thumb and forefinger. He tugged on the taut node of flesh, twisted it, flicked it back and forth. I swear I felt him doing the same to my clit. At the same time, he caught my earlobe between his teeth, worrying it like a pup with a toy.

Oh God! He was all over me, fondling and caressing whatever flesh he could access through my dishevelled clothing – and it was glorious! Crumpling my skirt to the waist, he worked his clever fingers under the elastic of my panties to stroke my soaked fur. I jerked against his palm, wanting him to explore more deeply. He appeared happy to oblige, pushing into my channel with his fingers while strumming my clit with his thumb. I wormed my way into his loose trousers and clung to his cotton-covered ass, feeling his gluts flex as he ground his astonishing hardness against my belly.

I’d never doubt my grandmother again.

Sunday Snog 218: More from G&V (#bdsm #sundaysnog #kiss #romance #99cents)

Happy Sunday! For me it's very happy indeed. Just got another fantastic five star review for G&V, from JJ's Kinky Books. "Theo is a unique character and I instantly fell in love with him," says the reviewer. I know what she means. I adore him too.

Guess I'll treat you to another snog from the novel! And when you're done here, don't forget to visit Victoria's Sunday Snog page for more steamy Sunday kisses. Ms. Blisse's kiss is at the top. Scroll down for other links.

Oh—and if you haven't yet voted for G&V in the TRR best books contest, would you be willing to take thirty seconds to do so now? Just click here, then click on the big blue button above the cover. That's all it takes!

Thank you! Now on with the snog!

“On your knees.” I haven’t the slightest idea what I’m doing, but I figure that’s as good a way as any to begin. “Don’t move.”

Rachel sinks to the carpet with impressive speed. Without further instruction, she adopts the classic position, sitting back on her heels with her back arched and her hands on her thighs. My cock hardens at the familiar posture. Who knows, maybe she watches kinky porn too.

The white of my shirt contrasts nicely with her olive complexion, but right now I really want her naked. I rummage in the plastic bag on the couch until I find the shears. Circling behind her, I grab the collar.

“Hold very still.” I hear her intake of breath, just before the steel blades slice into the fabric. I cut my way down her spine, until the ruined garment flaps open, then peel the rags off her arms. I ignore the pang of guilt I feel at destroying a perfectly good shirt. As Rachel would tell me, it’s only money.

That’s better. Now I’ve got a fine view of her luscious breasts, so full and high, topped with the juicy raspberries of her nipples. Her sleek, strong thighs part slightly, revealing wiry curls that are visibly damp. Pussy scent hangs in the air around her glorious body. I swell further as I stalk around her, admiring the elegant curve of her back and the way the ample flesh of her ass spills over her little heels.

“Clasp your hands behind your head.” She complies almost before the order is out of my mouth. The slight change further elevates her tits. Oh, but those rosy nipples just cry out for some clamps! I’ve got some clothespins that would do the trick—just the thought makes my cock throb—but we’ve got to go through the formalities first.

Facing her again, I weigh her breasts in my palms, tracing the dark areolae with my thumbs. She shivers at my teasing touch. “I want to tie you up, Rachel, and do things to your body. Torture these nipples a bit. Maybe whip you with my belt. Stick things into your pussy, your mouth, or your ass. I won’t hurt you, not any more than you can bear. But I need your consent first.”

Her wide eyes remind me of some anime character. Her lips are slack and soft, as though inviting the sort of invasion I describe. Her chest rises and falls with her quick, shallow breathing. She looks young, succulent, needy and a bit scared. The self-confident billionaire entrepreneur has totally vanished.

Power surges through me. She wants what I have to offer. I just have to make her admit it.

I loose my cock from my jeans and pump my erection a few times, just for effect. I think I’m bigger and harder than ever before. Her worried gaze flicks down to my cock. “Do you agree, Rachel? Can I do what I want to you?”

She swallows. She squirms. This is more difficult for her than I would have guessed. It was, after all, her idea.

“Well? Speak up, Dr. Zelinsky.”

“Yes.”

“Yes what?”

She squares her shoulders and meets my eyes bravely. “Yes, I consent. You can do what you want, Theo.”

“Good girl.” I bend to reward her with a kiss. Her mouth is sweet and hungry. “If I’m hurting you too much and you want me to stop, say ‘Apple’. Understand?”

“Yes, yes, of course. ‘Apple’. Now would you please get on with it?”

I chuckle. “Patience, Rachel. I’m in charge here. It’s not your place to make demands.” She lets out a squawk as I rather brutally twist her nipple. “Is it?”

“Ow—no—no, sir.”

Hmm. Where did that come from? 

 

Sunday Snog #192: The Antidote

My snog excerpt today is from my most recent release, The Antidote, a bit of speculative erotica with a lot of heat and a bit of a message. Hope you enjoy it!

When you’re done reading my kiss snippet, head back to Victoria’s for more sexy Sunday Snogs.

What if the government stole your libido? What would you do to get it back?

Sixty years after the Plague, most people accept the Council’s mysterious libido-suppression technology as necessary to prevent a resurgence of the deadly virus. Lena’s different. Though she loves her husband Jeff, she yearns to experience the thrill of forbidden lust. Denied from birth, Lena is willing to risk everything—her marriage, her freedom, even her life—for one taste of unbridled desire.

****

“You bastard!”

“Lena, please...”

I sat up in our bed, pushing away the hand that tried to stroke my hair.

“What about me? What about the rest of us? What about Bolt? And that poor woman who was with me? What about her? What will happen to her?”

“That’s not my responsibility.”

“The hell it’s not! You pretend to be Mr. Morality-and-Social-Conscience, all cozy with the Council, but do you care what you’re doing? What you’re supporting? All you want is to get your rocks off.”

“That’s what you wanted.”

“Yes, but I have no power to change anything. You’ve got connections, or so you say. Maybe it’s time for a change. The plague is long gone. Maybe it’s time the Council let us make our own decisions again, about who we fuck, and how.”

“Maybe you’re right. But the Council won’t willingly give up the policy of lust-suppression. It makes us all so easy to control.”

He caressed my cheek, then allowed his hand to drop to my breast. Dimly, I felt something stir in my crotch. “Seriously, hon, there’s nothing that I can do.”

“You can get hold of the antidote, right? For free?”

“Well, for favors. But yes, I can get it. Several of my project sites are at the drug factories.”

“Let’s start giving it away.”

“Giving away the antidote? To whom?”

“Anyone who wants it.” I thought about Merle. She’d take some. She’d pass it on.

“The Council...the Inspectors...”

“They can’t arrest us all. They need us.” I leaned forward and kissed him, trying to summon a hint of the passion I’d experienced earlier. Something flickered through me, a pale shadow of the lust I knew I was capable of. It was a tiny spark, but real. I thrust my tongue deep into his mouth, concentrating on that spark. Trying to fan it into flame.

Jeff returned my enthusiasm. The rich scent of his sweat tickled my nostrils, overwhelming his after shave. I broke the kiss, searching his face. “Did you take it again? The antidote?”

“I managed to persuade the Inspectors not to inject me with the suppressors.”

“Do you have any?” I wanted to feel it again—the rush of desire overwhelming every other emotion.

Sunday Snog #174: The Ingredients of Bliss

My kisses this Sunday comes from The Ingredients of Bliss, my steamy BDSM ménage. The excerpt is a bit long, so I’ll skip the blurb. (You can find it here.) Hope you like the snog!

Don’t forget to visit Blisse Kiss Central for lots more sexy kisses!

“You’ve got nothing to hide now.” With his lanky frame, mussed hair and crooked grin, Harry almost looked like a teenager. A very horny teen, considering the substantial erection bobbing hopefully at his groin. He flipped back onto his side and fixed me with a slightly fuzzy gaze. He was irresistibly cute without his glasses. “Everything’s out in the open.”

“But it’s all so—complicated!” As usual, my objections began to melt in the warmth of his smile.

He danced his fingers up my outstretched thigh and my pussy clenched in anticipation.

“On the contrary, I think this considerably simplifies the situation—Ms Wong.” Etienne’s voice was deferential, but I read a mirror of Harry’s mischief in his expression. “I serve you. You serve Harry. Each of us gets what he or she wants.”

“There’s no more need for secrets, love. Or for surreptitiously administered enhancements to the libido, either…” Harry slipped a fingertip between my moist lips and grazed a fingernail across my clit.

My annoyance paled next to the flare of pleasure kindled by his touch. Before I could clamp down to hold his hand in my crotch, however, he’d snatched it away.

“Oh no!” I groaned, fighting arousal and disappointment. “You told him…?”

“I had my suspicions in any case. It doesn’t matter. Your methods might have been dubious, but I’m grateful for the results.” Etienne glanced down at the livid marks from my beating, a set of parallel strips leading up his lean thighs toward his rearing cock. “I might never have had the courage to act on my desires if not for your—um—intervention.” His voice held quiet pride.

“You don’t have to be ashamed or embarrassed,” Harry added. “All we want—both of us—is to satisfy you. To please you and make you happy. Can’t you just accept that?”

Harry hooked an arm around my neck and pulled me down into lush kiss. His tongue was assertive as ever, yet I caught a hint of uncertainty in his manner. Under his brashness, he worried that I’d reject the solution he and Etienne had worked out. If I did, would I choose him, or the suave, glamorous chef?

I relaxed and let him plunder my mouth, offering reassurance via my physical surrender. His hands roamed over my body, visiting all the sensitive spots he’d discovered in our months together. There was no pain now, only bliss, pouring from him into me.

Warmth pressed against my back. I smelled vanilla and thyme. Etienne’s fingers joined Harry’s, tracing along the top of my corset. He stroked the tender flesh under my arm, making me shiver, then let his palm wander down my side to the curve of my hip. His uncharacteristic boldness increased the thrill of his touch. You’ll be sorry, I thought, giddy with desire, as Harry continued his hungry kisses. I’ll trash your butt until you can’t sit down.

Etienne knew he’d be punished. We both knew that was part of his motivation.

Only part, though. I felt the hair lifted off my neck, the moist, gentle pressure of Etienne’s lips between my shoulder blades. The eloquence of that simple gesture almost brought tears to my eyes. I eased my lips away from Harry’s, beaming him a look I hoped was full of love. Then I swiveled to offer my mouth to Etienne.

The chef accepted my kiss with the eagerness of a starving man. He opened to the probing of my tongue, letting me drink my fill of him. I tasted the walnut mousse he’d sampled earlier at L’Auberge de Francois-Martine and the Courvoisier he’d used to wash it down. Under it all, I caught a hint of some half-bitter flavor that reminded me of rainy autumn afternoons in Jardin les Tuileries. As I kissed him, I realized I’d been craving this since the first day he’d graced me with that haughty smile.

While his mouth was subservient, his hands became increasingly more brazen, palming my breasts and thumbing my nipples, then sneaking down to tease my lower lips. Meanwhile, Harry was busy unlacing my corset. I hadn’t appreciated how much the garment had constrained me until he managed to slip it off, somehow without breaking the lip-to-lip connection between Etienne and me.

I paused to draw in a lungful of the sex-scented air and looked from one man to the other. Had Harry minded my kissing Etienne? Did Etienne think I was rejecting him for Harry?

Both of my lovers wore broad smiles. Relief washed over me. The last vestiges of guilt evaporated. And I was too horny to be embarrassed.