Sunday Snog #103: Nasty Business

Whew, where did the week go? It's Sunday again, so of course I have a - um - stimulating - oral excerpt for you, this time from my romantic erotica novel Nasty Business. In case you missed this one, here's the blurb.

Ruby Maxwell Chen, lovely and ruthless CEO of a huge British business empire, is used to getting her way. When she encounters the strangely charismatic American entrepreneur Rick Martell, though, she wonders if she hasn't finally met her match.

From the trendy clubs of London to the Hollywood Hills, Ruby and Rick compete for ownership of a strategic factory in Malaysia. Neither has any qualms about using sexual wiles to smooth the path to success. Neither anticipates that their mutual attraction will turn into something far more intense and difficult to control.

As their struggle for dominance escalates, they draw their employees and associates into their outrageous power games. The stakes could scarcely be higher, as Ruby and Rick play for the ultimate prize: a night of total physical surrender.

When you've recovered from my snog, hop over to Snog Central and enjoy more sexy kisses from other participants in the Sunday Snog tradition!

A knock on my door pulled me from the window. "Good evening, Margaret," I said, ushering Ruby's delightful and dedicated assistant into my room. I felt her hesitate on the threshold, and laid my hand on her shoulder in a gesture of encouragement. She searched my face, her own expression a bewildering mix of fear, confusion, anger, and desire. "Do come in. I've been expecting you." I drew her inside and shut the door behind her.

Her mouth opened and closed several times, as though she wanted to speak and then thought better of it. Finally, she waved a piece of paper in my face.

"What's this all about, Mr. Martell? What is this urgent news about Ruby that you need to communicate, this danger to which you refer?"

"See for yourself." I indicated the erotic tableau in the window across the patio. Ruby was kneeling in front of Raoul, slowly stroking his impressive erection.

Margaret watched the two of them for long moments. Her lips were parted; her breath came and went in little pants that told me a great deal about her state. Standing behind her, I reached around and cupped her breast with one hand. With the other, I took from her grasp the note that I had slipped under her door, and stuck it in my pocket.

Through her light cotton nightgown, I could feel her nipples contracting into those hard little buds that I loved so much. With the tip of a finger, I traced a circle around one of them, careful not to touch the nipple itself. She shivered, then spoke, striving unsuccessfully for the same kind of iciness Ruby so expertly achieves.

"So what? Ruby is an adult, and takes her pleasure where she wishes. She's in no danger from Raoul, you know that very well. Though I'm not sure that the opposite is true."

"Raoul can take care of himself." I pinched the inviting nipple with one hand while cupping her mound with the other. Heat and dampness down there. The room filled with her earthy perfume. She sagged against me as I lightly stroked her through the cotton. "What about you, Maggie? What about your pleasure?"

She didn't answer as I slipped a finger between her swollen lips. The nightgown wicked up her moisture. My fingers were soaked in a matter of moments. Liu had told the truth; this seemingly prim, middle-aged woman was drenched in response to the merest of touches.

I burrowed my nose through her chestnut locks and nuzzled her neck. She arched in response, rubbing herself against my swollen cock. As if settling into its rightful place, it found its way into the cleft between her full buttocks. I rubbed it back and forth against the fabric, imagining silky skin underneath. "I can give you pleasure, if you want," I whispered in her ear. "All you have to do is ask me."

She was still silent, but her body spoke volumes. There was tension in this desire, resistance. I raised her gown and caressed the roundness underneath, speaking softly as if gentling a horse. "Don't worry, Maggie. You can trust me. I don't mean you, or Ruby, any harm." Her scent hung around us like a cloud. Heavenly.

Kneeling behind her, I pulled her globes apart and began to lick her. She tasted as good as she smelled. At the first touch of my tongue on her clit, she seemed to stumble. Then she reached forward and braced herself against the wall, arching backward so that I had better access to her. Needless to say, I took full advantage, running my tongue along her folds, swirling it around her puckered rear hole, plunging it as deeply as I could manage into her cunt.

She was still, as if holding herself back. That lasted about thirty seconds. Then she began to move, shuddering, twisting, grinding her sex against my mouth, forcing my nose into her slick depths. I didn't need to question her anymore; she had given me her answer.

Sunday Snog #101: Raw Silk

I've got something a bit different for you today. According to Victoria Blisse, queen of the snog tradition, a Sunday Snog can involve any sort of oral activity. So here's an excerpt from my first novel, Raw Silk, a tale of one woman's initiation into BDSM, and other pleasures of the flesh.

When you're done with my little snippet, click back to Blisse Kiss central for more sexy oral action!

In a foreign land, a woman discovers exotic new realms of the senses…

When software engineer Kate O'Neill leaves her lover David to take a job in Thailand, she becomes sexually involved with two very different men: a handsome and debauched member of the Thai aristocracy, and the charismatic proprietor of a sex bar. Each touches her in a different way; each teaches her different things about her body and her heart. Then David comes to Bangkok, and Kate realises that, finally, she must choose one of the three men who all desire her.

***

"On your knees now."

Once again she felt a flare of resistance. Part of her, though, wanted to follow his direction. She felt a strange pleasure as she sank to a kneeling position across from him. She looked at the floor, not daring his eyes.

"Pick up the panties in your mouth. Using just your mouth. Then bring them to me.’

Awkwardly, still in her high-heeled shoes, she bent down and took the discarded briefs in her teeth. Her nostrils filled with her own musky scent and she felt a new surge of lust.

Somehow knowing that this was what he wanted, Kate put her hands down and crawled the short distance to the chair where her tormentor lounged comfortably. With her ass in the air, she felt even more vulnerable, and more aroused. He sat up, thighs apart, and gestured to her to come closer. Finally, she was at his feet, between his spread legs. She sat up, leaning back on her heels, offering him the garment in the manner of a family pet offering the newspaper.

Gregory gave a little laugh, of delight more than mockery. He took the panties and held them to his face, inhaling deeply the womanly perfume with which they were soaked. "Wonderful!" he said, "even better than I had hoped.’

He leaned forward, cupped her chin in his hands, and searched her face. "Are you all right?" he asked, quite serious. Kate nodded, reveling in the fact that finally he was touching her. She focused her attention on him, silently begging him to handle her breasts, to stroke her ass. But instead he sat back in his chair, still regarding her gravely.

"Shall we continue, then, my little Kate?"

"Yes," Kate almost whispered, not knowing to what she was agreeing. "Yes.’

Marshall rose from his chair and stood towering over her, almost straddling her. He took another sampling of her scent, and smiled down at her. The mocking tone had returned. "Undo my fly, then. And give me your mouth."

Kate tried to be gentle and careful unfastening his jeans. Tight under normal circumstances, his erection stretched them to the point that the zipper would hardly operate. Every time her hands brush that taut organ through the denim, a shiver ran through her own flesh.

When Marshall’s cock finally became visible, she stifled a gasp. His member was on the same scale as the rest of him. It pulsed with heat, as if this were the heart of his fevered self. She ran her tongue delicately down its length, tracing the raised veins, tasting salt and bitterness.

"Open yourself," he said. As she did so, he slid his penis into her mouth, slowly, steadily. "Wider. I want you to take all of me, every centimeter." He pulled back slightly, then pushed in further.

Kate fought rising panic as she felt herself choking.

"Relax, Kate. Open to me, receive me, honor me." His voice, husky with lust, reassured her. Waves of warmth flowed through her limbs as she allowed her facial muscles to go limp and let go of the constriction in her throat. He pushed even deeper; she willed herself to open more. Then she realised her chin was against his pubic hair, that in fact his entire penis was inside her mouth. Pride surged through her, even as he began thrusting, out and then all the way to the root once again.

His rock-hard flesh battered her lips, yet somehow the pain did not reach her. She marveled at the silky skin that covered that hardness. As he slammed his hips against her, the rough denim of his jeans grazed her nipples, which were just as hard, sending electric spasms through her body. Kneeling, legs apart, she felt her own juices running down the inside of her thighs. Her clit throbbed in rhythm with his thrusts. Somehow Kate knew she did not have permission to touch herself.

His motions quickened. Kate felt a premonitory contraction in the rod of flesh that had taken over her mouth. Exultation filled her. Let him come, she prayed to herself, let me taste him, swallow him, serve him. She closed her eyes and focused on becoming the perfect receptacle.

Contrary, as always, he did not do as she had hoped. Clearly just on the brink of orgasm, he stopped. He slid his penis out of her mouth. Kate stared at him, her mouth still open, disappointment flooding through her.

"Now, Kate," he laughed. "You mustn’t be greedy! I'll decide when you taste my cum." He leaned closer. "Don’t worry, though. You will."

Sunday Snog #97: Twentieth Century

It's Sunday and I've brought out one from the vaults. Here's a bit of oral pleasure from Twentieth Century, a wistful paranormal short story first published in - let me go check - yikes! 2003, and now available in the free reading pages of my website. It's not exactly romance, but I at least think it's romantic. It's based on an actual shop I used to pass regularly, called "Twentieth Century". I actually bought a vintage necklace there once, for a New Year's Eve Party.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy it. Meanwhile, after sampling my snog, don't forget to visit Victoria's Blisse Kiss page for more Sunday smooching.

"The necklace, if you please?" Beth ventured a glance at his face as she returned the pendant to him. He appeared composed, but glancing down at his trousers, she thought she detected signs that her state of deshabille was having some effect on him.

The jeweler circled behind her, draped the necklace around her neck and fastened it. Beth thought that he was especially careful not to touch her, and that thought drove her mad. She was almost ready to beg, to fall on her knees before him and offer - what? Anything. Whatever he might desire, if only he would lay those cool hands on her fevered flesh again.

"Look," he whispered in her ear. "See how lovely you are." And she was. The cameo nestled between her breasts, blue as a madonna's robe. The matching silhouettes in her ears swayed as she turned her head from side to side to evaluate the effect. She looked aristocratic, refined, despite her nudity.

Beth turned her gaze from her own form to her companions eye's, reflected in the glass. That blue fire was burning there, unrestrained. "It is unfortunate that I do not currently have a Victorian corset in stock," he murmured. "That would be so appropriate with these jewels. However, I do have something else that you might appreciate." From a wooden chest in the corner, he extracted a folded piece of fabric, intricately patterned in jewel-like colors.

He unfurled it behind Beth's back. It was a triangular silk shawl bordered with long fringe. Complex, intricate designs flowed across it, ruby, emerald, lapis, asymmetrical and compelling. "This is an original William Morris piece," he said softly as he let the silk settle over her shoulders. The edges draped down over her breasts, sheathing them in gorgeous swirls of color. Beth noticed that her erect nipples poked brazenly through the shawl. She was suddenly dizzy as a wave of desire swept through her.

His hands hovered above her shoulders again, as if he would smooth the silk over her body, but he did not move. "Do you like it?" he asked softly. There was another, more intimate question in his eyes.

Beth was silent. She reached up, grasped his hands, and brought them down to cup her silk-swathed fullness. She expected him to pull away, and so she held him there as she held his eyes in the mirror, bold and shy at once.

He did not resist her, though. Instead he squeezed her breasts, kneaded them gently, rolled the swollen tips between his slender fingers until Beth moaned aloud. The silk slithered over her skin, teasing and sensual.

She closed her eyes again and leaned against him, letting the wonderful sensations wash over her. Slight as he was, he had no trouble supporting her weight. She felt the rough wool of his trousers against her buttocks, and sensed the hardness beneath.

Fear stabbed briefly through her. She knew so little of men. Would it be painful? Would she disappoint him? Then her doubts dissolved into new moans as he slid his arms around her waist and brushed his fingertips across her pubic fur.

The lightest of pressures, the briefest of touches, but it sent tremors through her sex. Instinctively, Beth parted her legs and rocked her pelvis forward, seeking more solid contact. The shopkeeper obliged, slipping one slender finger into the mass of moist curls to her center. Sparks leapt from that finger, raced through her, leaving her weak and breathless.

"Please..." she tried to say, not really knowing what she was asking for but wanting it more than anything. She had no voice, though, no will. She could barely stand.

The proprietor smiled at her reflection, kind, encouraging. "Come here, my dear." He led her to the velvet chaise. "Lie back. Relax."

Beth's mind flailed wildly, even as her body obeyed the man's suggestions. She searched his mild, middle-aged face, seeking reassurance. In response, he knelt in front of her, gently but firmly pushing her thighs apart. Then he removed his glasses, and his eyes were unveiled. Beth thought of the ocean, of the sky, of a gas flame, azure bright, almost transparent. And then of a star sapphire, ever-changing light sparkling in blue depths.

Then he bent his mouth to her sex, and Beth forgot to think.

Sensation and emotion, velvet wetness and diamond sharpness, his tongue a feather and a sword. She writhed and shook, keening like a madwoman. The shawl slipped away from her body. The velour upholstery grew damp beneath her. Beth did not notice. He licked, nibbled, probed her depths, breathed her, drank her, buried himself in her, swallowed her whole. She did not know what it was that he did, only that it brought near-unbearable ecstasy. The world shattered and fell away as pleasure drowned her.

****

You can read the whole story here. Let me know what you think...