Sexy Saturday Round Up

3 Dec

1-ssruDecember is here! If you’re already seeking relief from the holiday madness and holiday commercials that started before Thanksgiving, we have the solution. Kick back, get a big mug o’ tea and settle in to your relaxing Sexy Saturday Round Up routine…you won’t regret it.

This week–

From Madeline:

Decorate your Xmas tree with vagina baubles!

Some fascinating conclusions about human sexuality.

What is the gray sweatpants challenge? Here are some of the funniest twitter posts mocking the challenge?

Man Repeller talks about the avocado theory with men approaching 30.

Could you be a super-recognizer???? Take these quizzes to find out!

From Elizabeth Shore:

Gaining everyday access to a sex worker’s real life. You can see her naked whenever you want!

Guys wanna look pretty, too. The growing trend of male beauty treatments.

17 exciting must-reads for 2017. Note to self: apparently if you have “Girl” in your book title it gets turned into a movie.

Nice guys finish last. Why women find them boring.

Need a pick-me-up for 2017? How about a calendar of hot French farmers? Oui! Oui!

What happened to the “revolutionary” Lelo condom, The Hex? You know, the one promoted by none other than that misogynistic wacko, Charlie Sheen.

It’s creepy, it’s comical, it’s one of the weirdest damn things I’ve ever seen: a mask that turns your face into a vagina. Yeah, you read that right.

 

 

 

What I REALLY Want for Christmas

2 Dec No, not this kind of rabbit. Even if it is cute

Hi! I’m Thien-Kim Lam, and I’m the new kid here at Lady Smut. Instead of being hazed by my fellow authors, I’ve been tasked to write about vibrators–one of my favorite topics. Enjoy!

I’ve been told that I’m hard to shop for.

It’s true.

My family members lament about this challenge every holiday. My mother sends me more coffee–which is never a bad thing. My sister demands a wish list from me. My husband doesn’t even ask what I want anymore. I don’t really need or want more stuff cluttering my apartment. I usually suggest we purchase something practical, like new tires for our old, but trusty car. Totally boring and domestic, but much needed.

Wish lists are supposed to things you really want but never give yourself permission to purchase. Extravagant. Decadent. Impractical. Not tires.

As I navigated my inbox during Thanksgiving weekend, I attempted to make a wish list to share with my friends and family. Turns out my neverending search for a smoking hot red dress is not wish list material. I didn’t need more books. (Blasphemous, but true.) I hoard most of my books on my e-reader anyway, which takes away from the Christmas day unwrapping tradition.

Then I hit the jackpot.

Sort of.

I figured out the one item that I really wanted but never made an effort to purchase. Make that multiple items: sex toys.

Confession: I don’t need any more vibrators. Or lube. Or clit cream.

As a former sex toy sales consultant and an owner of a romance book-sex toy pairing subscription box, I have a very healthy collection. As in so many, I have to purge our pleasure pantry every so often.

Sex toys are like books. I can never have enough. Each one has its specialities. Each one serves a very orgasmic purpose. They’re the gift that keeps on giving–as long as you don’t misplace the charger.

Obviously, this isn’t the type of wish list I could send to just anyone. Definitely not my parents.

Ryan Reynolds Shudder gifimage via giphy

This is your call to gift that sexy someone in your life with a sex toy. Don’t make them ask.

You’ll benefit too, even if they use it for solo play. Though I’m pretty sure if you’re close enough that you can gift them a silicone rabbit vibe or pair of wrist cuffs, they’ll want to use them with you.

No, not this kind of rabbit. Even if it is cute

No, not this kind of rabbit. Even if it is cute

Let’s pretend I have an unlimited budget and unlimited storage space. What bedroom accessory would I put on my wish list? If I hadn’t already purchased this sex toy advent calendar, it would be first on my list. I’d want a badass vibrating wand. Some high quality leather handcuffs. The kind of the leather that smells so good, you just beg to be bound in them. And a steel boned corset.

Make your list, check it twice, and hand it over to your love. Because all we really want for Christmas are orgasms. If you’re not sure where to start, I’ve got some recommendations:

If you had to make a sex toy wish list, what items would you put on it?

I’VE SEEN STRANGER THINGS THAN BAD MOMS WEARING CROWNS

1 Dec

 

by Madeline Iva

How was your Thanksgiving? Mine was inspired. As promised, I binge-watched a ton of TV and movies letting my brain waves rest for a few days. And yes, I’ll be talking about foreskin before I’m through with this post. But let’s talk about STRANGER THINGS***–before we get to the turtleneck.

STRANGER THINGS takes place in the 80’s and yet I noted how it was different from the actual movies of the 80’s:

1) Weirdness wins!

2) Unlike any proper 80’s horror movie, the popular ‘slut’ doesn’t get slaughtered in the first act. Instead her stodgy ‘good girl’ friend is the one who ends up bloody and eventually missing. Huzzah!

Anorexic girl with a P.E. folder--so 80's it hurts!

Anorexic girl with a P.E. folder–so 80’s it hurts!

3) The weirdest of the weird in this show is a girl named Eleven–AND I LOVED HER CHARACTER SO HARD. She’s beautifully androgynous, as well as full of raging destructive and weird powers.

Note to self: Why am I not writing characters like this?

Warning: you're about to get a skewed sense of this TV series, as scene through the distorted lens of my obsession with Eleven.

Warning: the skewed sense you’re getting of this TV series is because it’s through the distorted lens of my obsession with Eleven.

4) The single mom Winona Ryder (who’s a mess) doesn’t need a man in the end.  I walk around with romance colored spectacles all the time, so I’ll admit I kept a keen eye on Winona, wondering if she and the gruff, hulking chief would connect as they started working together to find her missing son. Nope. By the end of the season she’s still a single, shambolic mom–and perfectly content to stay that way. For her it’s a happy ending (but not for everyone else—bwa-ha-ha!)

STRANGER THINGS explores how parents had to communicate with their children before cell phones existed.

STRANGER THINGS explores how parents had to communicate with their children before cell phones existed.

Ultimately, this show was mega-inspiring. Totally rad. Hella bitchin cool. To the max.

Speaking of BAD MOMS–No—I can’t go there yet.

Let’s talk about the Bad Mom with a Crown first.

THE CROWN — It’s like Mad Men for women. Elizabeth is not well educated, or at all prepared to be queen. She was only in her twenties when her father surprised everyone by dying and leaving her to inherit the crown. Her work in the first season is to repair her own deficiencies in the very best British way—by honestly admitting them and tackling them head on.

THE CROWN--in which power carries a handbag and waves funny.

THE CROWN–in which power carries a handbag and waves funny.

I like this show. Yes it’s British propaganda and yes, the attitudes of the people are excruciatingly conservative. But upholding traditions four hundred years old necessitates a bit of a conservatism, doesn’t it?

What I enjoy is that Elizabeth is not the kind of person who glitters, charms, or has brilliant moments of insight. She’s not the princess in a fairy tale who sweeps through the grand palace. She is excruciatingly ordinary.  She sighs over the necessity of living in a giant, ugly, palace and she dresses up with the same stoic attitude I have while doing stomach crunches at the gym. She’s also not really a mummy. Charles and Anne have their nurse, and that should be sufficient. Elizabeth seems at her most content as a mother watching from a distance while her handsome husband plays with the children out in the yard. The show portrays her without a maternal bone in her body. (Why is this so exciting to me?)

Huzzah to Clair Foy, meanwhile.  She’s the actress playing Elizabeth AND also Anne Boleyn in WOLF HALL.  Nice work if you can get it.

While I’m not saying Elizabeth’s not smart, at the same time she clearly wasn’t precocious or intellectually curious as a child. Punctilious in her duties, she’s a bit of a worker drone all in all. She loves horses, her husband, and her sister–perhaps in that order.  But in the beginning she makes mistakes in these most important relationships, promising her husband and sister things that she can’t deliver because she didn’t at first understand the forces who control and apply pressure to someone in her position.

At the same time she must face up to people seeing her exactly as she is–warts and all. I admire this and I cringe.  She doesn’t hide or lie about who she is–ever. I, meanwhile, constantly vacillate between anxiously wanting to please people only to swing right around in the other direction where I’m being so intensely, brutally myself that I alienate them. Gah!

In her role as queen, Elizabeth is not nurturing, motherly, or accommodating to others in ways we tend to expect of women; she’s simply in charge. She does her job with exactitude and diligence. Elizabeth learns the very difficult task of figuring out what this other persona is that she’s expected to inhabit–being The Crown. We see her negotiate being that persona out in the world and at home, and perhaps it’s because she has such a firm grip on herself in terms of who she is and who she isn’t that she gets through smoothly most of the time.

When people (i.e. politicians) attempt to walk all over her, she reminds them—in the very best British way–that she is the queen, and a woman of character, and in her own stead-fast way, a force to be reckoned with.

SPEAKING OF BAD MOMS – No. I still can’t.

SPEAKING OF THE 80’s: If you’re looking for a light comedy—check out WORKING GIRL on Netflix. I’d seen it when I was very young and really loved it. Seeing it again, I realized it is a transgressive fairy tale for the 80’s.  (I assume it was made in the 80’s.  The hair is REALLY big, and shoulder pads are everywhere.) It’s a million times better than Pretty Women, IMHO.

Transgressive 80's Cinderella story.

Transgressive 80’s Cinderella story.

Despite what the title suggests, Melanie Griffith is a lowly Staten Island secretary who wants to leave her life as a wage slave and become an executive. (Become an executive–snort–such an 80’s theme!) Her new female boss, Katherine (played SO WELL by Signorney Weaver) points out that

  • you have to finesse the scum bags—Hey, hasn’t Megyn Kelly has been telling us the same thing lately? Nuts to that, a lot of feminists say.
  • you have to make your own opportunities.

Yes! I hadn’t realized how much this movie influenced me.  When I saw it the first time I was a lowly minimum wage worker.  I then managed to become a creative writing instructor through creating opportunities for myself—and not always asking for permission before doing so, mind you.

Although the female boss Katherine turns out to be the villain of the movie, Melanie Griffith takes her advice. She makes her own opportunities. She doesn’t ask for permission. No guts, no glory. And with a lot of support from Harrison Ford, she succeeds.

OKAY – so now let’s all embrace foreskins and talk about BAD MOMS.

The best part of bad moms--the part that made me cry, was where the actresses were hanging out with their own real moms during the credits...

The best part of bad moms–the part that made me cry, was where the actresses were hanging out with their own real moms during the credits…

I watched it at my sweetie’s insistence.  Poor guy, he’s been so sick, he was looking for some light-light-light comedy to watch and because we both really like Kristen Bell, we decided to check it out. But I came to the film with very low expectations having seen Jezebel’s review/snarl/yawn.

Even so, I was mightily underwhelmed. Let us be clear—there was one bad mom in this film.  One. And she was not the lead–she was the rebel side-kick.  But let’s not dwell upon all that was meh about the movie. Let’s dwell instead over the one weird pause in the film where the women stop to have a frank discussion about foreskin.

–Particularly about how to deal with it face to face when knocking boots with a guy.

Let me first confess that the only foreskin I’ve ever seen is on baby boys while changing diapers when I was a nanny. Sweetie says based on what he sees at the gym (not that he’s looking closely or anything) foreskin was once rare for U.S. men his age or older, but now it’s something you’re probably going to encounter as a single woman dating men of the millennial generation.

Just the same I have to wonder–is this really a big deal? Is this a thing? I mean, yes, the evil world of marketing strives to make us cripplingly insecure about our bodies in every possible way. (Vaginoplasty anyone?) Are men being subjected to the same twisted pressures? Are they now expected to feel less-than because of a perfectly natural part of their bodies?

I vaguely recall some TV episode (was it House?) where a teenage kid took a razor to himself because he felt less attractive to girls. Are we really going there?

On one hand, Bad Moms seems to validate this ‘issue’ by showing some anxiety about encountering foreskin.  Yet they also seem intent upon delivering a message of acceptance.

And how could you not love the moment where the rebel Bad Mom side-kick tells Mila Kunis how to manipulate the foreskin during foreplay while using Kristen Bell’s head to demonstrate?

On the other hand, I’m just goggling over the fact that the movie kind of comes to a dead halt to deliver this rather hilarious PSA.

Oh well. Thanksgiving is over. Back to the daily grind for me.

I’m writing my next book about a Wicked Enchantress–who is NOW going to be a beautifully androgynous character full of raging destructive and weird powers. Huzzah!

And if you like weird, powerful, smexy women, then follow us at Lady Smut.

wickedapprenticefinal-fjm_high_res_1800x2700Madeline Iva writes fantasy and paranormal romance.  Her fantasy romance, WICKED APPRENTICE, featuring a magic geek heroine, is available on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Kobo, and through iTunes.  Sign up for Madeline Iva news & give aways.

***I must offer up a humble apology to my writer friend S.A. Hunter. She recommended STRANGER THINGS to me back in September before anyone else was talking about it. People, life is too short to sort through all the crap out there. When a good friend makes excellent recommendations, you listen to her. You treasure her. You don’t turn up your nose and shrug off her suggestion as I did. I was wrong to do so, and hang my head in shame. You are the more discerning, better friend, S. A..

 

Shaking Off The Tryptophan and Getting Your Mojo Back

30 Nov

By Elizabeth Shore

Hey Sexies! I was hanging with my peeps in Wisconsin over the holiday so didn’t have time for a properly written post. However, I’m giving you inspiration for getting your after-Thanksgiving groove back with this blog post from our friends over at The Muse. Enjoy, and I’ll see you next week. xo…Elizabeth

Reblogged from The Muse

Feeling Completely Unmotivated Today? Here Are 3 Ways to Be Productively Unproductive

 

It’s So Commercial: A Sexy Little Holiday Gift Guide

29 Nov
He's got one word for you: Teledildonics.

He’s got one word for you: Teledildonics.

By Alexa Day

For a great many people, the holiday shopping season started this past weekend. (For me, it won’t start for another couple of paychecks.) Navigating the warren of discounts and special offers and such is a welcome challenge for me every year. I enjoy finding just the right thing for just the right friend, something that says I’m thinking of her but also recognizes the uniqueness of our bond.

In the spirit of the season, I thought I’d share a gift guide with you. I hope it’ll help you in your search for the present your friend didn’t know she needed in her life.

For your friend, the woman in charge:

This is turning out to be kind of a tough year for women in charge. A lot of the usual suggestions apply, of course. Massages, spa days, various bath bombs and luxuries are always welcome for your friend, who probably needs to relax a little more.

Don't get it twisted. Mr. Expensive Suit is the one on his knees. Click if you're down with that.

Don’t get it twisted. Mr. Expensive Suit is the one on his knees. Click if you’re down with that.

But maybe your friend also needs some reassurance that her natural place is right up on top, if you know what I mean. If that sounds like her, consider getting her a copy of Megan Hart’s Beg for It. It’s a femdom story with a heroine whose dominant desires have taken a back seat over the years to work, parenting, divorce, and life’s other complications — until her favorite boy re-enters her world. Reese is there for a corporate takeover, and Corinne will remind him who’s boss. But the story of their relationship is complex, and both parties will take the reins before you reach The End.

In one of my favorite scenes, Corinne and Reese go shopping for something kinky, and I was immediately reminded of The Stockroom, one of my favorite online BDSM shopping destinations. They’ve got a blog for folks interested in the lifestyle and sexual play. Your friend might be especially interested in this interview with four Dommes. And if you find something for yourself in the expansive product line, well, your friend would be happy for you, right?

For your friend, the techie:

Your techno-inclined friend is just one of a growing population of women learning to code, making inroads in a largely male field, and discovering new ways for women to participate in and benefit from new technology. She’s probably known about teledildonics for a while, and now that virtual reality is getting less virtual all the time, she’s super thrilled about making those two worlds collide.

Teledildonics? It’s a merger of sex with technology. It’s given rise to programmable sex toys, or toys linked with music players, smartphones, and the like. It also includes the devices that enable partners to virtually get it on with each other. Each partner uses a toy that mimics the actions of the other partner.

I’m sure I don’t have to explain why it’s good to have a friend who has the ability to code and a healthy interest in teledildonics. The right gift will go a long way with her.

Click it and check out the gift that really does keep on giving.

Click it and check out the gift that really does keep on giving.

Your brilliant, creative, sex-positive friend might one day make my dream of robot sex a reality, so it’s in our mutual interest to get her something super cool. I present Christine d’Abo’s Batteries Not Required. It’s a science fiction story about a woman whose hard work is rewarded with a sex robot. When trouble strikes, Zoe’s ability to code not only saves the day but leads her to the happiest of endings. After she reads it, sidle up to her and ask, as casually as you can, what the future of teledildonics is looking like. I think that’ll be a joyful conversation for you both.

If you know her like that, take a peek at Kiiroo. Their line of smart toys is quite enticing, and they can be connected with video for a more immersive experience. Honestly, with all that, I would think you would be hard pressed to leave the house. Check it out.

So what do you think? Ready to start shopping? Ready to start dropping some hints? Fantastic. The season of giving shouldn’t exclude you, should it?

Feel free to help your fellow shoppers out with suggestions in the comments. And follow Lady Smut. We know where the good stuff is.

And The Simply Sinful Winner Is….

26 Nov

…Jana Leah. Balloons released!. Ticker tape parade launched! Horns blaring! Congratulations to you. May you enjoy your basket of sinful goodies.

fireworks

Please contact Elizabeth SaFleur at elizabethlovestory@gmail.com and we’ll get your winnings to you.

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Many thanks to everyone who stopped by yesterday. We hope you enjoyed the first-ever LadySmut Simply Sinful Black Friday Event. The book excerpts will be up on the site for a while (i.e. in perpetuity), so enjoy them at any time. And, follow LadySmut, where the goodies keep coming.

Happy Holidays to you and yours.

 

Desire Rising Excerpt: How To Kill Your A-Hole Husband

25 Nov
The end of an awful marriage might be the beginning of something smoking hot. Click to buy.

The end of an awful marriage might be the beginning of something smoking hot. Click to buy.

By Elizabeth Shore

Happy Black Friday, lovelies! I hope your day has been full of fun – whether time with family, time with friends, or time all to yourself! To top off our day-long whirlwind of fabulous excerpts, the one I’ve chosen below is from the very beginning of my historical novella Desire Rising. It’s a tough scene, because our heroine is fending off an attack by her husband from hell. But we’re all about girl power at Lady Smut, and this scene is when my heroine, Lucy, has finally had enough. She’s finding her inner strength, which is something we all celebrate here at Lady Smut.

Remember to comment on any of the excerpts you’ve seen her today and you’ll be eligible to win our deliciously sinful Black Friday “Basket of Sin” giveaway basket! The winner will be announced tomorrow so be sure to check back in. In the meantime, I hope you enjoy the excerpt.

From Desire Rising:

His breeches were loose, and while lying atop Lucy, he shook them free so they fell from his legs to a heap upon the floor. No longer restricted, he pinned Lucy’s arms onto the bed while inching up her body until he could straddle her face and dangle his limp member before her lips.

“Suck,” he commanded, wiggling his buttocks so his sex swung to and fro, as if to entice her.

Lucy clamped her lips shut and shook her head, struggling furiously to get out from beneath him. The noxious odor of his cock and balls sickened her, and bile rose in her throat at the thought of having to pleasure him.

“Do it,” he growled, lowering himself so the saggy wrinkled foreskin of his cock brushed Lucy’s lips.

She turned her head as far away as she could manage while still thrashing about, trying to rid herself of the oaf. Her refusal would enrage him, but she would not succumb to his demands. Not again.

He roared with anger and slapped her hard, striking the side of her cheek against her teeth and breaking the skin inside her mouth. A trickle of blood oozed between her lips.

Paying no heed to her injury, John pressed his advantage, using his knees to pin down her arms. With both of his palms splayed on either side of her face, he steadied her head to position it just beneath his dangling cock. He pressed his thumbs against her lips, attempting to pry them open.

Blind fury pumped through Lucy’s veins. She would not have this horrid, sweaty, disgusting pile of offal force her into doing one more thing against her will. It mattered not that he was her husband; after two long years of this behavior, she’d had enough.

With every ounce of strength she possessed, Lucy brought her head forward like a medieval battering ram and slammed it into John’s balls.

“Son of a whore!” he screamed, clutching his groin and rolling to his side.

In a split second, Lucy scampered off the bed. The door was straight ahead, her escape hatch from hell. Her feet touched the floor and she took a single step, fleeing toward sanctuary.

The vise-like grip of John’s hand in her hair stopped her cold.

“No!” Her cries filled the room as he reeled her back toward him, hapless as a fish on a line. She jerked violently against his hold, ignoring the searing pain as strands of her hair ripped from her scalp. No amount of struggling would get her free, and she stumbled backward as John pulled her to where he sat on the side of the bed. She fell into his lap and he wrapped his arms around her waist. She writhed against his grip, shrieking in frustration.

“Oh, so you like it rough, do you, Lucy?” he growled in her ear, smothering her in a toxic cloud of hot, fetid breath.

“Let go of me!” She turned toward him and swung out, aiming anywhere on his body to hurt him.

Her fingers curled in a fist as her arm whipped around like a weighted pendulum and suddenly connected with the side of his bloated face. A brittle crack rent the air as bone connected with bone, Lucy’s fist on her husband’s jaw. A bolt of pain roared through her hand. She cried out, shaking her throbbing fingers.

“Damnation, you bloody bitch!”

His eyes had narrowed to slits but flashed with stark raving fury. Terror clenched her heart like a fist from hell. Jerking hard against him, she at last broke free and flew across the room. John bellowed like an enraged bull. Lucy twisted the handle, swung the door open, and chanced a look back to see how closely he followed.

John shoved himself up and away from the bed. He took a step, attempting to give chase, when his feet became tangled in the discarded heap of his trousers still lying on the floor.

“Ah!” His cry echoed in the room as he lost balance while struggling to free himself.

He fell forward, toward the fireplace, arms uselessly pinwheeling as his temple caught the edge of the marble mantel. Breath whooshed from his lungs. His knees buckled and he sank, striking his head sharply against the unforgiving stone hearth. The crack of his skull was like the brittle snap of breaking winter ice. He lay where he’d fallen, immobile, his eyes wide open in an unseeing stare, his lips parted but silent.

 

 

Have a Taste of Wild: Simply Sinful Giveaway

25 Nov

by Kiersten Hallie Krum

Black Friday may be winding down, but it’s about to get wild here at Lady Smut as our Simply Sinful Giveaway continues with a taste of Wild on the Rocks.

15135890_1228426473898292_8779656534610873350_n

And I do mean a taste as last weekend, at my request, a master mixologist concocted an original Wild on the Rocks cocktail and lemme tell you, it was lush. What’s in it? Oh how I wish I could tell you…and be able to recreate it myself. But il maestro refused to divulge his secrets–though he did reveal several of the ingredients were no longer available in the United States.

20161119_214242

The makings of Wild on the Rocks, the cocktail.

Instead, to satisfy your new sprouted craving for wild–and whet your appetite for more—take a sip of some of the sexy you’ll find in my novel, Wild on the Rocks. In this very sexy excerpt, divorced couple Quin and Jasper are having a bit of emotions-free, ex-sex–or at least, that was the plan…

20161119_214856

Bottoms up!

Be sure to remember to comment on any (or all) of the excerpts today in order to be eligible to win our dangerously sinful Black Friday “Basket of Sin” giveaway basket. Check back in tomorrow (that’s Saturday, in case you have shopping blackout and lose track of the days) when we announce the winner!

 

 

WILD ON THE ROCKS

Wine comes in at the mouth

And love comes in at the eye;

That’s all we shall know for truth

Before we grow old and die.

I lift the glass to my mouth,

I look at you, and I sigh.

—W.B. Yeats

A Kindle exclusive. Click image to buy!

Now available exclusively from Kindle. Click image to buy!

I missed you too.

Not since he’d received his trident had four words meant so much to Jasper.

“Quinn,” he said but she kissed him before he’d finished her name. He expected the push and pull of her usual aggression, couldn’t wait to suit up for that hot battle again, but she surprised him, licking her bottom lip so her tongue slipped sweetly against his, teasing him with a taste of her. He groaned and felt her lips tip up before he took over, kissing her deep and wet and long as he lifted her off her feet and backed her up. He put a knee in the bed to lower her back down to the mattress, back again beneath him, all the while kissing her like he’d never get enough.

He’d been wrong earlier. This first time, they were going to take it slow after all.

His mouth trailed down over her chin to nip playfully at her throat. He chuckled low when her breath stuttered over an exhale. “You always were sensitive here,” he remembered.

She swallowed hard. “Not only there.”

He shifted down to the valley formed by the opened buttons of her top. “Here too,” he agreed, brushing his mouth over the mounds of her breasts that plumped up out of her bra. Swiftly, he unfastened the remaining buttons until he could spread the panels of her tuxedo shirt wide.

Beautiful.

He slipped his hands to the middle of her back to arch her up like an offering so he could tug her bra aside with his teeth. Her neck stretched back on the pillows and she moaned deep and long when his mouth engulfed her nipple.

It was better than any memory. She was better than any dream, even the ones he’d had of her, and boy, had he dreamed of Quinn. Hot, filthy, body-draining dreams that’d woke him in the middle of the night with so rigid an erection, even jacking off couldn’t ease the pain.

As always, Quinn was game for it. Greedy hands roamed up and down from his skull to his back to his waist, every inch she could reach while he paid homage to her breasts. “Here, baby,” she coaxed, pulling down the left side of her bra. His eyes flickered up to meet hers, hot and hungry with demand. He released her nipple and rolled it between his fingers, leaning over to suck the other one deep. “Jasper,” she moaned, her legs shifting and tangling with his, restless with need.

He ducked his head to drag his mouth down her belly and over that strip of skin she’d left bare for any man to see. “This has been driving me crazy all night,” he admitted hoarsely. “Knowing every guy who saw you wanted his mouth right here. But only so he could get it here,” and he slipped a finger past the band on her trousers and between her legs.

Jasper!”

“Right here, baby.” He unbuckled her belt and had her jeans and panties down and off in the next second. Jasper paused for a moment to take in the vision sprawled out before him. Her tits were propped up on display for him, her legs spread wide so he could see her wet with want for him.

“Christ, you’re gonna go already, aren’t you?”

Frantic, she shook her head against the pillow, but pushed her groin into his palm. “No,” she lied. “I don’t want it to end so soon.”

“If it does, we’ll start it up again.” And with that, he crawled between her legs and put his mouth on her.

If her kiss was narcotic, then the taste of her was the nectar of gods. Nothing compared. Not the first beer after a successful mission. Not his first bite of real food after days of living off MREs.

She shrieked on contact and again when he sucked on her clit. She ground her pelvis into his mouth and her fingers into his skull, clutching him to her as though afraid he might stop. But he had no intention of stopping and licked and sucked and ate at her until the first orgasm ripped her apart.

He knifed up as she came down, tearing at the release to his shoulder holster and setting it and his weapon on the night stand seconds before a rousing Quinn yanked his shirt out of his pants and up without bothering to unbutton it. He raised his arms to help her and then reached for his wallet while she went after his buckle, pulled down his fly, and freed him.

“Quinn,” he groaned when her hand wrapped him up. Her thumb cruised over the weeping tip, and Jasper’s head dropped back. “I want your mouth,” he growled, but when he felt her breath on his flesh, he snapped up and pushed her back into the bed. “But I want you more.”

“Oh my God, yes,” she moaned, notching her legs into the groove of his hips. “Now, Jasp. I need you now.”

She’d just come and already needed it again. She was a marvel, and tonight, right now, she was his.

His again.

“You’re gonna get me, baby. Put this on me first.” He pressed the condom wrapper in her hand before his fingers skated up her arm. “I’d forgotten how soft your skin is.”

She didn’t reply. It took another moment for him to realize she wasn’t gloving him up.

“Quinn?”

She glanced up through her eyelashes with uncharacteristic hesitation that sent a bolt of apprehension coursing through him.

“I’m on the pill,” she quietly reminded him. “And there’s been no one since you.”

He felt her words like a blow to the gut, and God, God, the sweetness of her gift nearly unmanned him.

So he gave it back as he shoved his pants off, shifted up, notch himself in place against her, and slid inside, bare as the day he was born. “No one since you, sweetheart,” he promised, and she finally wrapped him up in her arms and her legs and took him deep in her body until there was no space left between them.

“Kiss me,” she demanded. He ducked his head to comply while pulling out so he could thrust right back into her.

Christ, she was so snug around him, he almost lost it on the second go. She pulsed against him, and he took the cue and thrust out and in again, quickly building to a rhythm that had her clawing his back and making familiar noises of frustrated need in her throat.

“Wildcat,” he praised. Jasper lifted his chest to watch it come over her so he’d have that memory to relive when she was no longer around for him to fuck. She took that as invitation to bite his nipple, which quickly sent him right to the edge. “Hurry up, wildcat,” he urged, thumbing her clit, but she was already there, the spasms of her orgasm clenching down on his dick until he shouted her name and lost his rhythm, plunging and thrusting until he shot deep inside her.

Spent, he kept moving, easing them both back from bliss as he searched and found her mouth with his. “My wildcat,” he murmured against her lips, shoving in her one last time to stay put. “My wild lady.”

Mine.

* * *

“What is that God-awful noise?”

As strangely as it had begun, the piercing beep slicing through the sleepy fog in Quinn’s head stopped. An arm clutched her waist and then released. Cold rushed in at her back as the warm body that’d been curved around hers all night rolled out of the bed. She murmured sleepily when the sheet was pulled up and around her. A body dropped to the floor, and Quinn heard the once familiar sounds of Jasper’s morning routine pepper the air.

She cracked her eyes enough to make out the alarm clock across the room. “It should be illegal to be awake at such an ungodly hour of the morning.”

“Unless you stay up for it, right?”

She didn’t have to look to know he was grinning.

“That’s something else entirely,” she groused, snuggling back into the fluffy pillow.

“It always is.”

He went back to manly grunting his way through what she rightly guessed was a regimen of sit ups.

Back when they’d been married, they’d done this almost on a daily basis, or at least on those mornings Jasper was home. He needed far less sleep than she, especially if she was working into the wee hours, and too many years in the armed services had made the concept of “sleeping in” an anathema. He’d wake, she’d complain without meaning it, and he’d do his first group of calisthenics there in the bedroom while she kept sleepy watch.

Quinn had loved those mornings. Loved having that private pocket of time with Jasper before his world intruded and dragged him away from her. She adored watching his strong, mouthwatering body work through the exercises that kept him that way. She thrilled at the knowledge that he’d use that strength and ability to defend and shelter their nation and to shower her with protection and pleasure every chance he got. And she loved that he let her see this, this immense physical and mental strength, but more in those rare moments when he let her catch a glimpse of the rare vulnerability he kept carefully locked away. The fear that he’d fail his men. The worry that he wouldn’t bring them all home; the rage and sorrow when he didn’t.

When they were in bed, one of her favorite things to do was run her hands over all that muscle and sinew and hold him close and treasure him and the knowledge that he was hers in a way he’d be to no other. She’d been so proud of him and humbled to call him hers.

It had been a wrenching pain the first morning after she left him to realize she’d never do that again, that she no longer had that right.

The chorus of grunts and low-voiced swearing went on for another ten minutes through which Quinn lightly dozed until he shifted into pushups. She roused with interest. If she remembered right—and she was pretty sure she did—Jasper lifting and flexing his way through pushups was a sight worth seeing. She rolled onto her belly into the warm pocket left in his wake and, after a Herculean effort to lift her eyelids, peered over the edge of the bed.

Totally worth it.

Dim sunbeams seeped in through the blinds, cutting the floor into bands of light and dark. Jasper’s long body stretched down through one beam, head at the nightstand, feet a good four inches past the end of the bed.

Damn if the man didn’t glow.

His shoulder blades met in the center of his back on each down stroke, throwing his spine in sharp relief. Quinn shifted on one hip and propped her head on a forearm to get a better vantage point to trace the defined groove from the base of his neck all the way down to where it disappeared beneath the waistband of his black boxer briefs. The sheet slipped to the small of her back as she spent a few moments in intense study of his firm, clenched ass.

His back was a thing of sculpted beauty matched only by his literally bulging biceps and delts as he lifted up into a precise, even plane from toe to knuckle then back down to hover half an inch above the bedroom floor before lifting up again into a push up stand. Quinn’s heartbeat accelerated as she watched, riveted by the wonder of form and discipline, tracking each flex and ripple as if mapping the secrets of the universe.

And that was before he switched to one hand.

Quinn bit her lip, but not before a low moan managed to escape.

“What was that?” he asked without looking up.

Mesmerized, she counted thirty repetitions before he switched hands. “Sorry?” she croaked.

“You said something.”

“Hardly. I’m not even in my body yet.”

“Give me fifteen minutes, and I will be.”

She narrowed her eyes, but declined to retort given he probably wasn’t wrong, especially if he kept up with that, and focused on the show he was bent on performing.

He held firm in a push-up stand, then bounced back a few inches on palms and toes before lowering prone to the floor. Crossing his arms under his face so his fingertips nearly brushed each elbow, Jasper extended upwards, legs in an X formation, hands crisscrossed beneath him, one above the other, wide shoulders rounded so his triceps bulged out all along the outside of his arms. Without pausing for rest, he powered on through another set.

Quinn caught her breath and slid a hand down her belly.

“That one’s new,” she noted, a little breathless.

He grunted through three more. “Forearm to triceps extension.”

The tip of her index finger strummed along her slippery folds. “Do tell.”

There must’ve been something in her voice because this time, when he held the push up stand, his chin lifted and those green-gold eyes zeroed in on her.

Quinn licked her lips and watched heat chase the question from his face. “You like that.”

He wasn’t asking, but she held his gaze through lowered lids and let him see her answer.

She liked it. She like it a lot.

Balancing on one hand, he reached out to tug the sheet from her body. “Show me,” he rumbled, voice hoarse.

Without losing his eyes, she rolled to her back and spread her legs wide, setting her thumb to work so she could slide two fingers inside. Automatically, her hips lifted toward the pleasure. A low groan rolled up from the floor. Her free hand cupped her breast. She plucked the nipple under his avaricious gaze.

“Wider,” he ordered, chin jutting toward her legs.

“Baby,” she whispered while she complied. “Get up here.”

“You got your show,” He levered up from the floor and stretched out across the bottom of the bed, head in hand right between her spread feet. “This one’s mine.”

Fair enough. Quinn settled in to giving a show that would drive him wild. She moved her hips against her hand, working herself on her fingers as she watched Jasper watching her. Twin spots of color ran high up on his cheeks. His beautiful mouth pulled into a thin rigid line. Sweat glistened on his chest from the workout and she lick her lips again thinking how next time she was going to taste him from stem to stern and everywhere in between.

Quinn glanced down and saw the tip of his erection popping out from the top of his boxer briefs. Jasper caught her direction and pulled himself free in the next second, stroking his length almost leisurely without looking away from her busy hands.

Quinn’s efforts sped up.

“That’s it, baby,” he coaxed. “Show me how much you want it. Let me see how wet you get for me.”

“Jasper,” she moaned, fingers flying between her legs, her nipple pinched so tight, pain mixed with the intense pleasure. She wanted to close her eyes and let the orgasm roll through her, but she couldn’t look away from Jasper. He’d shifted his hand to stroke her calf while his cut forearm kept steady rhythm. “I love arm porn.”

He barked out a laugh, then leaned over to kiss her thigh. “Go over hard,” he urged. She felt his breath on her fingers and tripped over a new high. “Give that to me, sweetheart.”

She scratched her nail over her nipple and that tipped her past the edge. Her neck stretched back and she lost her view, but Jasper jacking himself for her was already burned across her mind’s eye. “Oh yes,” she moaned as it crashed over her, her head full of Jasper’s hands and Jasper’s face and Jasper’s body.

She was still in the throes when he bumped her thighs wider, knocked her hand aside, and shoved deep within her.

“Holy fuck,” he swore.

Jasper!” she screamed. She grabbed him by the neck and wrapped one leg around his thighs, one high on his back. “Don’t stop, Jasp,” she begged. “Don’t ever stop.”

He turned his head and sucked her wet fingers into his mouth, curving his tongue to lick her taste from them, and, Lord love a duck, it was so hot, she nearly passed out from the spasm that spurred through her. Jasper lowered his forehead to hers as he rocked in and out. She stared up into his eyes while the sound of their flesh slapping together filled her ears. Dark stubble covered his cheeks so he looked like some pirate intent on pillaging her until she felt him for a week. He’d shave it before going to work, but she wished he wouldn’t. Scruffy Jasper was the man who was all hers, only hers, and she hated knowing soon, she’d have to give him up.

“Come on, wildcat. Come all over me.” He palmed her breast and ducked his head to slip the nipple between his teeth, biting down until she shrieked. She felt the orgasm building again and knew this one was going to be harder that the last two, wild and out of control the way Jasper made her feel every second she was under him.

His hand replaced his mouth at her breast. She reached up to bite his bottom lip as that wild inside her cinched tighter and tighter and tighter until it burst. Her neck arched back; he took hold of her throat and pounded away.

“Fuck, how you squeeze me when you come,” he grunted. “Spectacular.” His hand slid up to her jaw, yanking her face down so they kissed deep and wet and long as he fucked her even harder until finally he came with a hoarse shout.

Panting, they lay in place, Jasper’s face in her neck, Quinn’s mouth at his ear, spent, joined, and savoring that connection in the delicious haze that followed amazing sex. Quinn shivered when his tongue teased her earlobe. Slowly, languidly, her hands mapped his back, tracing the muscles he’d worked that morning first on the floor and then on her.

“You’ve always been my best adventure,” she whispered.

He went rigid and she froze as her words penetrated.

Oh crap, did she really say that out loud?

Jasper raised his head. Going by his look of intense triumph, yup, she definitely said that out loud.

She opened her mouth to backtrack, but was saved the effort by a loud knock on her apartment door.

“Queen!” Twist’s dull voice sounded through the apartment and the opened door of the bedroom. “I’m not standing out here while you bang Quinn again!”

Quinn and Jasper stared at one another with shared shock, and then Jasper’s head dropped to her shoulder.

“I am going to kill him.”

Quinn laughed. “No you’re not. He’s your best friend.”

“Not for much longer. You wouldn’t believe the shit he pulled yesterday. It was a frickin’ sewing circle on coms with my sex life the main gossip topic.”

She rubbed his head in mock sympathy. “Poor baby,” she teased. “I had no idea you alpha boys chattered so when left to yourselves.”

“We don’t, but Twist is a rare breed. Got a psych degree and left a practice behind to join the Navy. Makes him more emo than ten other guys put together.”

He nuzzled her neck. The skin there rippled under the caress. “Man’s got a calling,” he added quietly. “Feels more than most. What you see of him is how he protects that.”

“So it’s all an act?”

“No, he really is that much of an annoying idiot.” She laughed again at his wry frustration. “But I’d trust no one more at my back,” he finished on a serious tone. “Or with my secrets.”

Quinn felt a shard of disappointment that he didn’t feel the same way about her, but shoved it aside. She was enjoying this light, affectionate aftermath with Jasper. He’d be leaving in a few minutes. She didn’t want old wounds opening up before he did.

So she wrapped him up and gave him a light squeeze with her arms and her legs and her still throbbing sex. “He loves you,” she noted while Jasper groaned.

“I know it.” He brushed his thumb over her mouth. “But can we not talk about Twist when I’m hard inside you and have to go in 5 minutes?”

She nipped at his digit when it made a second pass. “Deal.”

His eyes and face softened, and Quinn lost her breath. “Been waiting a long time to see that look on your face again,” he said in a low, warm voice that made her vibrate in all the right places.

“What look?”

Eyes open, he captured her mouth with his and slowly, sweetly slid out of her. “Satisfaction,” he growled and kissed her again. “Gotta go, babe,” and now there was regret in his voice too.

“I know.” She ran her hand over his stubble. “Wish you didn’t have to shave for the job,” she admitted. “I like this look.” She kissed the edge of his scruffy chin. “Pirate Jasper.”

He chuckled low and deep, making her nipples rise up against his hard chest. “You like it, I’ll keep it while I’m here.”

The gesture surprised her. Jasper never went against regulations. “Really?”

“Sure. There are no regs on McBain’s detail, and I don’t have the Navy to adhere to for a couple of weeks.” He bent to rub his rough cheek against her puckered nipple. “Already I can see the benefits.”

“Mmm. You’re giving me ideas.”

His tongue sneaked out to lick sensitive flesh. “Good. I’m already a big fan of your plunder.”

He was doing it to her again, revving up her hunger. He thought she’d been satisfied when the truth was, she could never get enough of him, not if she had him for a hundred years.

“What are we doing here Jasper?” The words escaped before she’d registered them in her brain, or else she would’ve stopped that shit right away.

He looked up at her without moving away from her breast. “We’re enjoying each other, Quinn. And some seriously explosive sex. Why does it have to be anything more complicated than that?”

“Because we’re us. Because it’s always complicated when it’s us.”

“Maybe that’s our problem. Maybe we need a little easy for a change.” He brushed a wisp of hair back from her face. “I’ve missed you. I’ve missed fucking you. I’ve missed talking and laughing with you. You’re a seriously good time and an amazing lay. Why can’t that be enough?”

As painful as his choice of words was, he made it sound so achievable, but Quinn wondered how long they could actually stick within those parameters. How long she could live with having only Jasper’s body and social company and nothing of his soul.

“What happened with the Navy, Jasp?”

“Who are you afraid of, Quinn?” he shot back. She rolled her lips together to keep her mouth shut. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.” His eyes filled with a hint of mean. “You can have my cock. I’m happy to give you more orgasms than you can handle, take as many as you can give me. And we’ll eat and drink and have fun together for as long as we’re both here. But you’re gonna have to share your own secrets before you get a shot at mine again, baby. You gave up the right to know my heart when you gave up on our marriage.”

It hurt and hurt deep, but he was right and it made her voice small when she agreed. “Okay, Jasp.”

He studied her. Quinn figured her easy capitulation came as a surprise. But she was saved again by Twist’s shout. “Let’s go, Queen! Or I’m gonna tell all the boys why we were late to the briefing this morning.”

“Shit. He’ll do it too,” Jasper muttered and Quinn found her good humor restored.

“Maintaining that badass rep must be a rough gig.”

“You’re not kidding.”

He kissed her hard and quick, then knifed up and off the bed to grab his clothes from the floor. He dressed quickly, barely bothering to button his shirt before strapping the shoulder holster over it and shoving his feet back into his boots. Quinn tangled herself back into the sheet and shifted up on her hip to watch him.

“I’ll shower back at the resort after the briefing.”

“They set you up in one of those posh villas by the sea?”

He snorted. “We’ve got rooms in the employee section, but once we’re done with this job, we’ll move into the resort proper. Discounted rate, or we’d be shacking up next door to you.”

“Hibiscus Court’s not that bad.”

“Babe, I jimmied the lock in two minutes.”

“Bragging is unattractive even in a bad ass, super SEAL.”

He grinned and leaned over the bed so they were nose to nose. “SEALs don’t brag. We don’t have to. But if I was bragging, it’d be about how I got you off twice in less than twenty minutes.” He kissed her hard if quick. “But I’m too much of an officer and a gentleman.”

“I’ll remind you I got to the first one on my own.”

He kissed her again, slipping his tongue in her mouth this time. “Sure you did, sweetheart. Now, you need me to set an alarm so you can go back to sleep or you gonna get up?”

“The wedding’s not till one, and Willow got Clancy to hire a temp to help him cover the breakfast and brunch runs.”

“So you’re gonna sleep.”

“No, I need to pick up some supplies in town. Then I thought I’d hit the beach until I have to start set up.”

“I get a window, I’ll come find you, yeah?”

She thought of Jasper in swim trunks, his delicious body wet with ocean water. “That’d be good.”

He read her face and his eyes softened. “Yeah,” he repeated. Then with a final kiss and a resigned glare in Twist’s direction when he shouted again, Jasper headed for the door and left without looking back.

Quinn rolled to her side again and stared at the window blinds. She heard the front door shut behind Jasper and the muffled exchange between the two men. She kinda missed not hearing their banter. Probably more than worth the price of the ticket.

What kind of price was she about to pay to have this time with Jasper? Sure, there was something to be said for having an affair with a man who knew exactly how to get her off. There’d been good reasons for her year-long dry spell and only some of it had to do with her broken heart. When you had the best, settling for a runner up was so far from enticing as to not be worth the bother. Jasper was the best lover she’d ever had—he’d ruined her for other men—and it hadn’t even taken an entire day before they wound up in bed together again. Why shouldn’t she capitalize on the fact that fate or divine providence had dropped them both in paradise at the same time?

You gave up the right to know my heart.

Oh God, how she wanted his heart again. His heart and his secrets and the right to claim him as hers with as much ferocity as he’d once claimed her. She wanted to reach deep and pull out the wild he’d only ever shown to her and keep it close, keep it safe. But Jasper had named his price and it was a cost she was unwilling to pay. Because this time, when Quinn left him, she knew it wouldn’t be by her choice.

She might not be alive to make it.

Writer, singer, editor, traveler, tequila drinker, and cat herder, Kiersten Hallie Krum avoids pen names since keeping her multiple personalities strait is hard enough work. She writes smart, sharp, and sexy romantic suspense. Her debut romantic suspense novel, Wild on the Rocksis now available. Visit her website at www.kierstenkrum.com and find her regularly over sharing on various social media via @kierstenkrum.

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Basket ‘o Sin!

Next up in the Lady Smut Simply Sinful Reader Event is Elizabeth Shore at 9 P.M.

 

Simply Sinful Excerpt: Lovely, a BDSM Erotic Romance

25 Nov

by Elizabeth SaFleur

We hope you’re enjoying the LadySmut Simply Sinful Black Friday Reader Event. Below is yet another excerpt for your reading pleasure. (Don’t forget to comment on this or any other post from today to be entered in our giveaway. See details below.)

This snippet is from Lovely, Book #1 in the Elite Doms of Washington series. (All books are stand-alone stories, no cliffhangers.)

Blurb: When nineteen year old Christiana Snow is lured into a summer of sexual submission with charismatic Congressman Jonathan Brond, the relationship promises the adventure she’s been craving and the life he’s been missing. But in unforgiving Washington, D.C. the threat of scandal and gossip always looms.

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~~~~~Excerpt~~~~~

Jonathan led Christiana outside to his idling black sedan. Mark held open the passenger door as she slipped into the back seat. Jonathan folded himself next to her.

“You said your driver was going to take me home.” Her eyes registered alarm.

“He is. He’s taking me home, too. To my home.”

“My Dad . . . .”

Her words evaporated when he patted her hand. Nothing she could say could possibly make up for her father’s conduct. Peter Snow’s boorish behavior wasn’t her cross to bear though, by the look on her face, she’d likely had a lot of practice.

“Don’t worry,” he said.

Shane popped his head into the still open door. “Congressman, you wanted to see me?”

“Make sure Mr. Snow makes it home safely after the reception, and go over some possible subjects with him for our interview later in the week, would you?”

“Yes, sir.” Shane slipped from sight, and Mark closed the door. The partition rose between Mark and the back seat. Finally some privacy. Christiana slid across the leather closer to him as the car smoothly U-turned in the street.

“I didn’t know Mark was your driver,” she said.

“Among other roles.” He took her hand. “Christiana.”

“Yes?” Her rosy lips parted on an involuntary sigh, and his imagination got the better of his intellect. It took every ounce of control to not crush her to the seat with his body and take her right then and there.

“I shouldn’t have . . . .” He had no right to her. She had not given herself to him. He had yet to even ask, and he shouldn’t. Washington was unforgiving in many matters and getting involved with a nineteen year-old would prove fatal. He already tested the boundaries with his sexual proclivities.

“No, please. Do it again.”

Okay, so he hadn’t scared her off completely with his kiss. He laughed and then tamped down the ferocious protectiveness filling his insides. “I shouldn’t have been so impulsive with you.” He touched her face. She pushed her cheek into his palm, like a kitten might arch into an outstretched hand.

No mistaking, she would test his control. “You really are exquisite.” He dropped his hand and leaned back into his seat.

“Thank you.” Her cheeks turned a beautiful shade of pink, like the inside of a seashell. But just as quickly, all color drained, and her lips pursed. Her hand went to her temple, and she massaged a small circle next to her scar.

“Are you feeling alright?” he asked. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“No, you didn’t. Just a little headache.”

“Give me your hand.” He tugged her even closer to him across the leather seat. Her bare thigh rested alongside his leg. She didn’t pull back at the connection. He pulled one of her slender, warm hands to his lap, palm up. He pressed his finger into the soft fleshy pad below her thumb.

“Acupressure,” he said.

He’d learned how to stave off headaches arising during meetings and hearings. Popping a pill in front of colleagues would be a sign of weakness and used against him.

He stroked her delicate palm and then pulled on each finger. Delicate tendons stretched under his larger fingers. He tried to be gentle.

She leaned her head back and closed her eyes.

He massaged her whole hand, kneading and rubbing until her fingers fell open, splayed out wide, fully receiving his touch.

After pulling her other hand across his leg, her blue eyes opened. He held her gaze with his own as his hands engulfed both her wrists. The tightness around her mouth released. His eyes fell to his lap, where his index fingers and thumbs grasped her pale wrists. His thumbs rubbed across the sensitive thin skin, and she shuddered. She likes having her hands held captive.

“I’d like to take you to dinner. This weekend.”

Her head rose from the headrest and she blinked. “You want to take me to dinner.” Her voice held astonishment.

“A gentleman never asks a beautiful woman for a Saturday and expects her to be free,” he said. “But, you’ll find out, I’m not much of a gentleman.” He released her hands. “I know a little place about an hour outside of Washington. The drive will give us a chance to talk. And I promise not to keep you out too late.”

“No, I—”

“No?”

“No, I mean, don’t worry about being late.”

He smiled. “I have an offer I’d like to discuss.”

Though he had sufficient discipline to pass on this woman if need be, he believed in helping people. He could at least show an interest in her life and help her better navigate the obviously overwhelming situation with her father and the brat socialite. Like a mentor, a voice whispered in his brain. The brain in his pants responded, yeah, right. Who are you kidding?

The car slowed as it pulled up outside her house.

“Feel better?”

“Yes, thank you.”

The color had returned to her cheeks. How pink he could turn other parts of her anatomy… His groin ached.

Mark opened the door and offered his hand to help Christiana from the car.

“I’ve got this, Mark,” he said. The momentary blow of jealousy caused by the thought of Mark touching her startled him.

He eased himself from the car and placed his hand on the small of her back to guide her over the cracked and uneven concrete.

After laying a chaste kiss on the back of her hand, he backed up. “Saturday night. I’ll pick you up at six.” He waited for her to unlock the front door and step inside before walking back to his car.

He slipped into the back seat and took a few deep breaths. Mark eased the car away from the curb, and the privacy screen lowered in a muffled whine.

“Where to, sir?”

“Home. The Oak’s not a good idea tonight.”

“Very good, sir.” The screen rose to separate them.

As they entered the parkway, the traffic sounds quieted. His daydreams took advantage of the renewed silence. Christiana proved irresistible, a delicious smorgasbord of opportunities for pleasure.

So why am I fighting this? She’s of legal age, a girl on the cusp of womanhood. How could I resist her? She’s catnip in a den of lions.

At the reception, he’d seen how the men gawked at her. There were a few in particular he definitely didn’t trust. Her response to his kiss showed how ripe she was for surrender to a Dominant will. If he was right about her submissive nature—and he hadn’t been wrong yet—he’d ensure it was his will.

~~~~~

Want to read more? Find Lovely at all major, online retailers for just 99 cents. Lovely is also available in audio book, narrated by the talented Anastasia Whatley. Warnings: family secrets, liberal abuse of Washington, DC society, dominance/submission, bondage, gags, paddling … you get the picture.

Comment below–or on any post published today, November 25–and be entered to win a Simply Sinful basket of book goodness.

Books! Wine! Bath bombs and soaps! Scones! What more could you need?

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Giveaway closes at midnight (Eastern), November 25, 2016.

Next up in the LadySmut Simply Sinful Reader Event is Kiersten Halle Krum at 7 p.m.

~~~~~

Elizabeth SaFleur writes contemporary erotic romance and she’s not afraid to get a little graphic about it  — “it” being the sex, the BDSM or Washington, DC society, which she regularly features in her series, the Elite Doms of Washington. Join her Sexy, Saucy, Sometimes Naughty exclusive reader’s group or follow her on Twitter and Facebook.

Illicit Impulse Excerpt: Simply Sinful Giveaway Event

25 Nov

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After our day of thanks (and gluttony), Lady Smut has another buffet of delicacies to offer you: a day full of wonderful excerpts capped off with a perfectly sinful giveaway. The Black Friday celebration continues with this little peek at Illicit Impulse. Heroine Grace Foley has been charged with testing her best friend’s experimental sex pills. She’d love to have a little alone time with her brainy bestie, John, but he’s made it clear that his interest in her is purely platonic. That leaves her friend with benefits, Tal Crusoe. Good thing he’s willing to help a girl out in the name of science!

Don’t forget — you have to comment on this (or any) post from today’s parade of excerpts to be entered in the giveaway. The winner will be announced on Saturday, so don’t love us and leave us, okay? More details after the clip.


The drive from Bank to Tal’s home in Jackson Ward was short but challenging, a trek into a warren of one-way streets. To make matters worse, parking spaces were harder than usual to find on a Monday night. Somewhere people must have been watching the game, but Grace couldn’t see or hear anything like a sports bar as she hustled from her parking spot past empty storefronts. On their usual nights, this walk brought out the adrenaline junkie in her, and she felt like a criminal as she hurried alone down darkened streets in search of something dirty and dangerous. Tonight, she maintained her brisk pace, but she felt leaden inside.

She needed her vice of choice a little more than usual tonight. She needed that familiar comfort. A satisfaction only one man would offer her. She needed to be seen. Desired. Touched.

When she arrived at her destination, a warehouse located farther away from her car than she preferred, she checked the windows at the top right corner of the building. Bluish light flickered in the darkness there.

Good. He’s home.

She pressed a button beside the big metal door and unleashed a resounding buzz into the space beyond. She stepped away from the door and watched as more lights came on behind the upstairs windows. She pulled her coat tightly around herself and started an awkward little dance, trying to ward off the chill that had descended onto her after she had taken one of the pills at the bar. Perfectly normal, John had said, since oxytocin regulated body temperature. That didn’t make it any less uncomfortable, but Grace knew she’d be warm soon enough.

The clanging of locks preceded a loud rumble as the metal door slid open on its track. Barefoot and clad in well-worn jeans and a plain black T-shirt that clung to his hard body like a shameful secret, Tal Crusoe gave Grace the naughty grin that never failed to make her melt.

“Well, isn’t this a nice surprise?”

The sight of him, the deep voice that sounded like old Virginia money, the eager heat in his blue eyes—all of it wrapped around her, banishing the cold for good. Her breath quickened and her sex grew warm and heavy, the muscles there flexing hungrily. The thought of him inside her, working her hard, overwhelmed her with its intensity. The new depth of her need surprised her. Could the pills be causing that as well?

He leaned against the door frame, and she longed to stroke his blond hair. “Did we…?”

She cursed herself for not calling before racing over here. Maybe he had another woman up there. Maybe he’d just sent one home.

“No,” she said. She looked past him. “Do you…?”

“No.” He moved out of the doorway to let her in. “Come on. It’s cold out there.”

Despite the concrete floor and walls and all the open space, the converted warehouse that was Tal’s home and workplace remained quite warm. His loft overlooked the personal training studio where he transformed his clients through individualized fitness programs. Radiators maintained a temperature comfortable enough to sleep in the nude and on top of the covers, even in the dead of winter.

Tal slid the front door closed again with a rumbling roar. His shirt hugged his powerful frame as he moved, hard muscle flowing and shifting in a lovely advertisement for the male anatomy. Grace swayed slightly as she watched him, as if her hips and her legs and her hands had minds of their own, all desperate for his touch. When Tal turned to her, she shrugged out of her coat, responding to his gaze on a primal, instinctual level by beginning to undress.

He took her coat from her and flung it away into the shadows. “Look at all this.” He stared shamelessly at the curves that filled her provocative outfit. “You put this on for me?”

“I did.” She smoothed her palms over her hips. “Are you going to take it off for me?”

His mouth covered hers, and as his arms wound around her waist, she pressed her body to him, opening her mouth to let their tongues duel and play. The sound of her breathing was harsh and loud to her ears. This intense craving for him excited her, and she tugged at his thick hair, pulling him closer, wanting more. But Tal withdrew from her mouth and nipped her earlobe with his teeth.

She slid her palms down the back of his neck and over his shoulders. She loved the way he filled her hands, as if he’d been made for her pleasure. His tongue slowly caressed the sweet spot at the corner of her jawbone. His hand slipped beneath her skirt, gliding over her thigh onto her ass. God, the man put out heat like a furnace. She reveled in the sharp, clean scent of his skin.

“I was just thinking about you,” he whispered. His big hands roamed over her before settling on her hips and slowly inching her tight skirt up and up and up.

“Nice thoughts?” she asked.

Tal swept his hand between her body and his, nudging her thighs apart with his broad palm. His fingers stroked the scrap of fabric that covered the wet heat of her. The sensation building between her legs rocked her like an earthquake, and she whimpered, shamelessly bucking against his hand. His breath teased the fine tendrils of hair just in front of her ear. She closed her eyes and let him work his sensual magic.

“No.”

***

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Alexa Day is the USA Today bestselling author of erotica and erotic romance with heroines who are anything but innocent. In her fictional worlds, strong, smart women discover excitement, adventure, and exceptional sex. A former bartender, one-time newspaper reporter, and licensed attorney, she likes her stories with just a touch of the inappropriate, and her literary mission is to stimulate the intellect and libido of her readers.

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