Sexy Saturday Round Up

2 Nov

Sexy Saturday Round UpBy Elizabeth Shore

The calendar page just flipped to November on Thursday when I heard Let It Snow on the overhead at my local Starbucks. Gaaah! Say it isn’t so! We’ve gone from all things pumpkin to all things peppermint in the blink of an eye. But here at Lady Smut, we’re taking it all in stride. Despite ongoing madness in the political world – don’t forget to vote on Tuesday! – here we offer a sea of sexy tranquility. Read on, Lady Smutters, read on.

If you want to be friends with your ex, just ask a lesbian how it’s done.

An eerie mystery in Italy may be solved with the discovery of skeletal remains on Vatican land.

The best shower accessory you didn’t know you needed.

Why you must vote…from the world according to John Legend.

How men’s and women’s sexual fantasies differ…and are very much alike.

Booze-free bars…the future of going out?

Canada votes to legalize marijuana and then they ran out of marijuana.

Listen to the wisdom of nature. Ahhhh…

Your November sex horoscope.

Ryan Reynolds says wife Blake Lively has sex with ghosts.

And finally: woman who says she has supernatural sex now claims she’s engaged to a ghost. Spooky!

 

Sexy Saturday Round Up

26 Oct

Sexy Saturday Round UpBy Elizabeth Shore

We’re cruising the pumpkin highway this time of year – pumpkin bread, pumpkin pie, pumpkin cereal – and pretty soon the great pumpkin! (ABC is showing the perennial Charlie Brown favorite on October 26th). But lest the clock strikes midnight and we all  turn into pumpkins ourselves, better catch up on our reading. We’ve got plenty of good stuff to keep you entertained, so sit back, relax, grab a pumpkin latte, and enjoy this week’s hot reads.

Still got pumpkin on the brain? Try carving a Martha Stewart serpent pumpkin – and just accept that you’ll suck at it.

The model who played Melania Trump in a rapper video is now receiving death threats. People, chill. Seriously.

10 male misconceptions about female masturbation.

Fickstutenmarkt – just the ticket for when you get an urge to have sex with a strangers while wearing a bag on your head.

From Madeline:

Halloween just got hysterically perverse with these “unique” maternity photos. 

Mom, his puberty is all you: study links start of boy’s puberty stage to when their mother’s puberty years hit.

Are you ready for sex? Mental vs. physical arousal.

Slutever explores the difficulty of finding a Happy Ending massage if you’re a woman.

Are you a SWERF? Or do you support sex workers? (Dudes, I might be a SWERF. It’s hard for me to envision some future utopia where sex work is ever a really good professional choice to pursue and gets the same level of respect that being a gymnast, model would. (I’m thinking here of  professions people inevitably age out of.)

Tops need aftercare too.

Squirting 101: Soak Up the Pleasure, Soak Up the Fun

The queer love story at the heart of the new Collette movie.

“A man would have to be dead to not be affected by you.” FREE READ

26 Oct

by Elizabeth SaFleur

In the #MeToo era I’ve often wondered if the alpha male in romance will fall by the wayside, like Jackson Reese, my domineering corporate boardroom hero who loves earning a woman’s submission. [[Dramatic pause.]] Nah. Below is a free read, Jackson, where an alpha male rules. Enjoy!

Jackson Reese doesn’t have time for romantic complications—but Dana makes him an offer he can’t refuse.

Jackson Reese enjoys his freedom, and his normal evening date is a tumbler of scotch. When his colleague, Dana Moore, reveals her nights are emptier than Jackson’s morning liquor bottles, he changes his plans. He knows a submissive in need when he encounters one, and her need runs deeper than he could have imagined.

Warnings: Adult, erotic content (18+ only), NSFW, D/s situation. I also cannot be responsible for the desire to have your garters snapped after reading this little ditty.


Jackson

Jackson Reese cracked the stack of papers in his hands on the conference table, aligning the edges to perfection. Today was a good day. This afternoon his negotiating skills won his environmental law firm a new client—the largest biofuels manufacturing plant in the country.

His opponent, a man in a cheap gray suit, stood and extended his hand. “Pleasure to do business, Mr. Reese.”

“Yes.” He returned his handshake, heartily. His manners would not be undone, even if the man’s weakness provided him with a too-easy victory for his taste. Jackson enjoyed a good fight, and Gray Suit provided none. He reminded himself to take the win, regardless.

The man turned to his colleague, Dana Moore, a tall brunette in an equally concrete-colored suit that did nothing for her pale skin. He never understood why women in Washington felt they had to dress like men.

“A copy of the signed agreement will be sent over later today,” Jackson said.

“Really, Jackson. It’s seven p.m. Don’t you ever stop working?” Dana’s mouth quirked up into a smirk.

“Not really. Sharon will show you out.” His legal secretary held open the conference room door. She knew to hustle them from the premises as quickly as possible. Once negotiations were over, his tolerance for small talk vanished. Besides, he had a date with a bottle of Scotch.

“Buy you a drink?” Gray Suit asked.

“Another time.” He widened the door opening.

“Dana, this way.” The man’s harsh tone toward the woman unnerved him.

After he let the door swing click shut, blessed silence washed away his budding headache. He ran through the meeting in his mind again, replaying his win like a meditation.

Dana’s face kept interrupting his reflection. Why was she even at the meeting? Gray Suit interrupted her whenever she opened her mouth. He rarely ran into sexism these days. It jarred his nerves when he did. Dana was annoying, but she wasn’t stupid. He’d learned that from running into her—repeatedly.

Lately, she showed up at too many places he frequented—charity events, the Kennedy Center, even in line at Starbucks one day. But as the wife of an Ohio state Senator—and a trophy lobbyist of the firm that he’d just secured as a client—he had to be polite.

At least she hadn’t breached his private space, Club Accendos, his secret weekend retreat. Dana Moore tied to a St. Andrews Cross. Now there’s a vision.

He walked to the wall of windows overlooking Pennsylvania Avenue. The September sky has turned purple, and the string of red taillights on the road below signaled rush hour was far from over. Traffic would be bad tonight. Perhaps he’d head over to Accendos and not wait for the weekend. Surely someone would be interested in a little pick-up play—his favorite anecdote to a night otherwise spent alone.

He scratched his five o’clock shadow and engaged in his evening ritual—mentally running through his plans for tomorrow. The day would be filled with back-to-back meetings.

“You drive a hard bargain, Jackson Reese.” Dana’s voice broke through his thoughts and the sacred silence.

He turned and caught a whiff of her Chanel perfume. “Something else I can help you with Mrs. Moore?”

“I’m afraid our negotiations left me a little . . . unsatisfied.”

“Oh?” Here we go. He knew where her teasing was headed. Whenever he ran into Dana, she’d press her cheek against his face in an oh-so-Washington-acceptable, non-kiss. She’d breathe on his neck as if the heat would warm him to attraction. He wondered what flirtatious gesture she’d graduate to tonight.

“Where’s your colleague?”

“With any luck half way down Constitution in a taxi cab. You haven’t answered my texts.” She stood before him before he could move away.

“I don’t look at my phone during meetings. It’s rude.”

“Ah. I knew your silence wasn’t a ‘no.’”

He grasped her hands before they could connect with his chest. “Excuse me. Paperwork awaits.” He placed her hands against her sides.

Before he could sidestep her, she grabbed his crotch. He tensed and chose to stand stock still. “That’s not the best way to get my attention,” he said.

“Oh? What is?” She gently cupped his balls.

He looked down at her hand and peeled her fingers from the front of his trousers. “Tell me, where is your husband, Mrs. Moore?” He emphasized her married title in case she’d forgotten her status.

She pulled her hand away from his grip. “Who cares?” Her smile faded into pure boredom, a look demonstrated by too many Washington wives.

She sat back on the conference room table and crossed her arms. “Tell me, Mister Reese. I’m too forward for you? You only like submissive women, weak, who melt at your feet?

“If you’ll excuse me, Mrs. Moore—”

“Don’t call me that. It’s my title. It’s not who I am.”

“That’s a shame. Perhaps you should take on a new title.”

A feline smile stretched across her face. “That’s what I’m trying to do right now.”

“No, you’re trying to fill up your night because you have nothing else to do.”

The sides of her mouth dropped to a flat line. “I have plenty of places I could go.”

He stepped aside and gestured to the door. “Good, because I don’t get involved with married women.”

She lifted her chin and stood. “And if I was single?”

“I would see you as a beautiful, successful woman.”

“You should run for office. Only you could make a compliment sound like a dismissal.”

“I’m a Washington attorney.”

“And a handsome, successful man.” Her hand landed on his chest, stopping his advance toward the door. “I won’t blackmail you if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“The thought never occurred.” Oh, yes, it did. Washington lived off traded favors. He, however, made it a point to never owe anyone anything.

She took a deep breath and steeled her voice. “I know all about you Jackson Reese. You like to make women . . . do things.”

“I don’t make anyone do anything.” He caught her wrists before she could connect with any part of his body again.

Her voice hitched and she smiled. “So strong, Jackson.” She twisted her hands from his grip. “You don’t like to be touched unless you initiate the advance? Isn’t that the game?” She chuffed and stepped back. “Perhaps you’re not man enough for me.” She lifted her chin, a move he particularly hated in women.

She turned slowly. Too slowly. She wanted him to stop her? Too bad.

“Reverse psychology doesn’t work on me, Mrs. Moore,” he said to her back.

She turned sharply. “I told you not to call me that.”

“I do not get involved with married women.”

“I’m not asking for involvement.”

“I don’t have casual sex, either.”

“God, Jackson you sound like a 1950s housewife.” She lowered her voice. “Not at all like the Dominant I expected given your status at Accen—”

“Excuse me?”

She smiled. “Oh, yes, I know all about you and your secret little boy’s club. Come now.” She stepped forward, her hand connecting to his chest—again. “Show me what you got.”

He couldn’t help himself. He laughed.

A muscle twitched in her cheek. “You don’t think you can dominate me, do you?”

“No, I don’t think you can submit to me.”

“Oh, a challenge. But what if I told you I was sincere.” She stepped backward. “I’m interested.”

“I’m not.”

“Please.”

“I don’t believe you. Why are you really here?” Deep interest replaced his curiosity. Information about his secret sexual life was not easily obtained. He’d find out who leaked any information about them. But, first, he had to know her motives.

Was this part of some retaliation for his rebuffs of her advances? No, his ego wasn’t that big. Washington was full of powerful, attractive men.

Blackmail? If Dana knew who he was—and had proof—she could destroy him. She would have offered terms by now. Something else was at play.

Experimenting? It was the only reason he could fathom why someone like Dana Moore would be interested in any power dynamic other than the one she’d already amassed. She was a good-looking woman, still in her prime years, with a successful position, and married to a powerful man. She has to be bored, that’s all.

A heavy sigh escaped her lips. “Does it matter why?”

“Yes.” He crossed his arms.

“I want to know what it’s like.” Her tone was so sincere, he almost believed her. Almost.

“I don’t get involved with dilettantes,” he said.

A bolt of pain flashed across her face, hard and fast like a crack across a porcelain vase. It was gone as fast as it came, and her smooth mask return to its perfection.

“Mrs. Moore, when you go home tonight, you tell Mister Moore—”

“Please, please, stop calling me that,” she spat.

“Why should I?”

She laughed heartily. “Because my husband isn’t interested in me, Mr. Reese. Nor any woman.” She looked out at the Washington skyline and hissed between her teeth. “It’d be easier if he’d just have damned affairs like everyone else in this town. Of course, he probably is. Just not with anyone I could compete with. Divorce papers are next.”

Jackson crossed his arms. “Why are you telling me such privileged information?”

“So you have one of my secrets like I have one of yours. You like dominating women. My husband doesn’t even see them.”

So Senator Moore was gay? Who cared? Except Jackson learned long ago unsatisfied women were dangerous women. Angry men may start wars. But frustrated women could implode planets. And, Dana looked ready to hit something or someone. Well, it wouldn’t be him.

“Move on then,” he said.

“Oh, we are. We’re legally separated but waiting until after the election for the announcement. You of all people should know a divorce in an election year is an impossibility. He’s barely holding on in the polls. Besides, we make a good team when we’re focused on work.”

“Doesn’t sound like much of a team if he’s batting for the competition.”

She laughed again. “I didn’t know you had a sense of humor, Jackson.” Her shoulders dropped and she chewed her lip.  “I want to see what it’s like to be . . . more.”

He grasped her by the shoulders and lurched her closer to him. She gasped as he ran his hands down her back and her sides.

“You think I’m wired.” Honest shock colored her face.

“Yes.”

“Did anyone ever tell you that you have trust issues?”

“Everyday. Now tell me the truth.”

“I did. I want to know what it’s like . . . not to experiment. But to be the sole focus of . . . someone. Even temporarily.”

“Go on.”

“I can keep thinking about what I don’t have or act. I need to know what I’m missing.” She shifted on her heels and a flash of vulnerability crossed her face. “Maybe next time I’ll choose someone more . . . compatible.”

Holy shit. Dana was serious.

He stepped backward and looked at his watch. “I’ve got one hour.” He must be half-crazed out of his mind to do anything with this woman. But the enigmatic story of Dana Moore gnawed at his insides. No bars enslaved a man more than the unknown—and Jackson Reese didn’t do mystery. Add the injustice of her situation and Jackson found himself compelled to help her.

She straightened. “One night.”

“One hour.” He grasped her chin and lowered it. “No sex. Nonnegotiable. And you’ll do what I say.”

“That’s the point, isn’t it?”

He huffed a half laugh willing to let her indulge in bravado a bit longer. Then he walked over to the conference room door and clicked the lock.

“Dana, what is your maiden name?”

“Strickland. Why?”

“That’s your safeword. I presume you know what that is.”

“Yes.”

“Good. Now go to the end of the room.”

“Being punished already?”

“No games, Dana.”

“So serious, Mr. Reese.” She uncharacteristically wobbled a little as she walked. She was scared. Okay, she didn’t like mystery, either. Tough.

“Take off your dress. The color does nothing for you. Drop it on the floor. Yes, Dana, you likely have ten others like it at home,” he said to her incredulous face.

As she shed her god-awful dress, she revealed a beautiful lingerie set, including garter belt and stockings. Unexpected, but welcomed.

“You came prepared,” he said.

Her skin flushed a deep crimson.

“Turn and look at me.”

She pivoted and immediately crossed her arms over her ample breasts captured in a surprisingly feminine bra. White lace. Yes, very nice.

“Don’t hide yourself. Show me what you chose to wear for me.” After she lowered her arms to her side, he cocked his head and looked. Really looked. How could no one admire this woman? Jackson appreciated any woman who kept herself in such fine form as Dana. The mystery deepened.

“Take down your hair.”

After shaking her bun free, her long brunette hair reflected flashes of ambient city lights streaming in from the long wall of windows.

“You should wear your hair down more.”

She huffed. “I’m not sixteen anymore.”

“Thank God.” After clicking off the lights, he shed himself of his jacket. He rolled his shirt sleeves to bare his wrists. He removed his watch. Each movement deliberate and slow. Dana’s face grew more pale with each action.

He had pledged himself to uphold all the laws of safe, sane and consensual play. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t let a little intimidation create the right mood. Dana wanted to try on submission, well, he’d use all means at his disposal to have her feel that loss of control.

He stood at the head of the table and laid his hands on the smooth surface.

“Get on the table. Hands and knees.”

Her mouth dropped open. “Seriously?”

“That’s the last time you’ll argue with me.”

As she bent over the table, a curtain of chestnut silk fell in her face. One knee and then the other connected with the glass, her stockings easily gliding her into position. Yes, very nice. Without that steely suit and severe hairstyle, Dana was quite the looker. His cock jolted alive for the first time all day.

He walked to where she knelt on the table. His hand slid down the side of her head, silky strands soft under his palm. “You have remarkable hair.”

“Thank you,” she whispered.

He continued to run her smooth locks through his fingers. She grew more jittery under his touches. “You’re a grown woman with grown-up needs. No need to feel ashamed about enjoying being petted.” A thought flitted across his mind. “Yes, that’s what I’m going to call you. My pet.”

A small sliver of anger flashed in her eyes.

“You can choose to take it as society tells you.” He leaned close to her ear. “Or how I meant it.”

He walked back to the head of the table but remained standing by his chair. Dana faced him on the opposite side, kneeling with her breasts rising in fell in shaky breaths.

“What should I call you?” she asked.

“Titles don’t interest me right now. What does interest me is your fantasy.”

“I don’t—”

“Yes, you do. Given your situation, you have a bank of fantasies you rely on.”

She sighed and gazed out the window. He sighed in return. It was going to be a long night if she continued to indulge in her nerves. She asked for this scenario. Yet he’d have to help her along. “Where does he place his hands on you?”

Her eyes darted to his face. “Everywhere.” She answered without hesitation. Ah, so she did fantasize about someone.

“Specifics, Dana.”

“He grabs my hands and—and pushes my wrists. . .”

“Overhead.”

“Yes.”

Dana Moore dreamt about being overpowered? Hardly a ringing endorsement she cared for submission. Her fantasies could mean she wanted aggressive sex, not loss of control. He knew only one true way to find out.

“Crawl to me. Slowly, pet.”

She hesitated.

“Dana.”

She lowered to her arms and moved forward. In the dim light he caught flashes of a crystal rosette at the center of her bra. She could afford the best after all. He pushed the thought aside that she had no one to admire such finery from his mind and concentrated on the woman before him. Yes, the woman. The thought occurred he’d never considered Dana a woman prior to five minutes ago.

Halfway across the table, she stopped and pulled back up to kneeling. “I feel like an idiot.” Her voice trembled.

“You’re beautiful.” He lowered himself to his chair. “Feel me watching you, Dana. Resume.”

Her hands fell to the table once more. She moved forward, her shoulders growing more rigid with each inch forward. He’d never seen a woman so scared—and that was saying something. The courage it must have taken for her to come to him?  Uncharacteristic guilt hit him square in the chest from his earlier, dismissive behavior. He’d been in Washington too long.

He concentrated on her movements, slow, deliberate, and all because he’d asked. The familiar satisfaction of experiencing submission, even as frail as Dana’s, filled his insides.

“Thank you, Dana.”

She looked up at him. “For what?”

“For you.” He ran a finger over his bottom lip. Time to concentrate—on her. “Can you feel the pull of your garter against the back of your thigh? Perhaps I’ll snap it, leave a nice thin red stripe on that ass you hide all day.”

Her breath hitched.

“Is that what you’d like, my little pet? A good smack on the ass?” He laid both hands on the armrests of his chair, wholly aware of the effect his stance held to someone so exposed.

“Maybe,” she whispered.

“You have to get closer to earn such a reward.”

She looked up him, surprised. Her breathing deepened and her chest flushed a deep pink. When she reached his end of the table, she pulled herself up to kneeling. He laid his hands on her thighs. Yes, she definitely shook—but not from fear. He tucked her hair behind her ear and curled his fingers around the shell of her ear. So, she was serious about this experiment.

“Do you know when a woman is most beautiful?” he asked.

“Twenty-five?”

He laughed. “Only a woman would answer that way. No, when she’s being true to herself.”

“So I should walk around in lingerie with my hair down?”

“You already walk around in lingerie, don’t you?” He cupped her chin and raised her gaze to him. “Next time I see you, you’ll wear your hair loose, too.”

“When will that be?”

“I don’t know. So you’ll have to wear it down for a while. Sit up, legs over the edge.”

After she complied he pulled her forward so she perched on the edge. In his peripheral vision he caught their faint reflections in the windows as night had fallen dark and heavy outside. He turned her face so she could see their images.

He twisted a lock of her hair in his hands. “Yes, remarkable.”

She lifted her hands and placed them on his chest. “One hour. Does anyone get more of you?”

“Rarely.” He pulled her off the table and swiveled her so she faced it. She caught herself with her hands. He palmed her behind and leaned toward the ear. “We should make the most of our time together.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“What you’re doing.” He snapped her garter. A puff of air left her lips. He grasped a handful of her hair and pulled her head back. “More, my pet?” he whispered in her ear.

“Yes.”

He laid a sound spank on her ass. She grunted and lurched more over the table. When she tried to move a lock of hair that had dropped forward, he twisted her arm behind her, gently but firmly. Her mouth dropped open. “You don’t need to do anything. Take it in.” He drank in the sight of her cheeks, reddened from his smack.

“Widen those legs. Good.” He dropped his grip and sank down in his chair. “Show me how you touch yourself.”

Without any more prompting, she drew her hand to the inside of her thigh.

“More,” he said. “Very nice. Leave the panties on. I told you I like your choice.”

She gave him her profile, and he caught a glimmer of gratitude in her eyes. His gut lurched a little at how little he’d done and how much she’d already reacted. Was her life so empty? Likely. Here she stood, lapping up his minor attention like a kitten.

He never understood people who settled for scraps. Of course she agreed to marry Senator Moore—and stay married to him. Besides, who was he kidding? Work in Washington often replaced matters of the heart. Perhaps he knew why people settled after all.

But not tonight.

Her fingers had moved under the elastic of her panties. As she stroked herself under the slip of lace, he kept his eyes on her back, now reddening in desire. Her breath accelerated, and she leaned more forward on one arm. When her head fell back, her long hair nearly touched the crack of her ass.

“Stop.” He grew heartened at her growing confidence but he wasn’t ready for her to come.

Air sputtered between her lips.

“Turn around,” he said. “Give me your fingers.”

She withdrew her hand from her panties and turned to face him. Jackson lifted her fingers to his lips. He fought the urge to suckle the wetness from her fingers, settling for flicking his tongue across one tip. She gasped on contact, and her eyes glazed. He expected no more back talk from Dana—only the reality her desire was winning, which meant he was winning.

He grabbed her waist and placed her back on to the conference table. Then he picked up one of her feet and placed it on his cock, now rock hard and uncaring about her marital status.

“You’re having quite the effect on me.” His brain would win this battle, of course. He’d settle for a cold shower later.  “Lean back,” he said.

After she lowered herself on to the table, he leaned over her. His crotch connected with hers. Her glorious hair spread in all directions around her head, forming a chestnut halo. He leaned down, pressing his hands on either side of her shoulders, keeping himself from leaning too much on her body. He’d make no more contact – a contract he had with himself about who he’d get intimate with and who he would not. Unhappy or not, Dana was married and off limits.

“Put your finger inside yourself.”

He didn’t need to see that she’d complied. He could feel her fingers move. She gasped and arched her back.

“Jackson, please.”

“Keep going,”

“I’m not sure I can.” Her eyes had moistened.

He cracked her hard on the side of her ass. A choked cry released from her throat, and her fingers quickened. Ah.

“That’s not the only place he puts his hands, is it?”

“No.” A tear slipped down her cheek to disappear into her hair.

“Where?”

She drew her free hand to the base of her throat, unable to say the words.

Jackson placed his hand on hers. “Do you trust me?”

She nodded.

He nearly encircled her entire neck with his large hand. She released a long breath, her face relaxing. He tightened his grip around her throat. “Now, Dana. Make yourself come.”

A long cry emitted from her throat as she released. Her mouth opened into an oval, her neck arching into his hand. He knew after tonight, he wouldn’t ever see her as beautiful as she was in that moment again.

Her body lay limp on the glass tabletop as he released his grip around her throat. He pulled her up to sitting and ran his fingers through her hair for some minutes. When her breathing returned to normal, he sat her in his chair and retrieved her dress from across the room. She sat dazed.

“Dana?”

“I’m fine.”

“Don’t get embarrassed now.”

“I-I’m not. I’m just . . .” She looked down at her dress, scrunched in her lap. “I don’t want to put this on. Is that silly?”

“Not at all.”

He gave her a glass of water, and they both stared out at the skyline for an hour, unspeaking. When the traffic sounds outside died down to a low hum, she finally spoke. “Weren’t you supposed to beat me or something?”

He laughed. Wait, she’s serious. “No, Dana. I was not supposed to beat you. I was supposed to do what you needed.”

“And that was it?”

“You needed to be seen.”

“That’s not all. Thank you for being . . . affected.”

“A man would have to be dead to not be affected by you.” He turned to face her.

She returned his smile. “I’m not sure what to do next.”

“I do.” He took in a deep breath and pulled a card from his wallet. He handed it to her. “Call me when the ink’s dry on your divorce papers.”

She stared at the card for a long minute and then cocked her head at him.

“And think about what you want. No subtly, Dana. I want specifics.” He still wasn’t convinced Dana had a submissive bone in her body. But he’d help her discover her true proclivities—once divorced. He owed it to her. Her moment of giving herself to him was worth a thousand dates with bottles of Scotch.

She fingered the card. “You’re kind, Jackson Reese.”

“Shhh. Don’t tell anyone.” He winked at her. Jesus, he was flirting? No, he just wanted an unhappy woman to feel better about herself. He had little tolerance for men who mishandled women, and Senator Moore was clearly mishandling his wife if she was reduced to attempted seduction. But what did he know about their marriage? Nothing. And that’s the way he’d keep it.

She sighed. “You sure you couldn’t . . .” Her words stopped when he cupped her cheek.

“Yes, I’m sure. Call me when you’ve decided you are more important than your husband’s career.”

“I think I already have. Now that I have something to look forward to.” She blushed.

“No promises, Dana. And, be very, very sure before you act.” He dropped his hand and stared back at the same skyline. “But when you text me with an image of your signed divorce decree, I’ll answer it.”

~~~The End~~~

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Sexy Saturday Round Up

12 Oct

Sexy Saturday Round UpBy Elizabeth Shore

Happy weekend, sexies! Don’t know about where you’re at, but here in the Northeast it finally feels like fall. Crisp air, leaves starting to change, and boot weather to boot! Your ever-faithful Lady Smut has also gathered up some great quick reads for you. Seems like the makings of an awesome weekend. Have fun!

Love thyself – even if you’re fat. That’s okay, right?

Silver foxes….ooooooh yeah. So hot. So sexy. But why?

Stop working so much! It impacts your sex life.

The GOP’s take-away from the Kavanaugh debacle is to appoint 15 more male judges.

The bunnies are baaaaack! Playboy Club New York opens.

From Madeline:

What are the effect of embracing anti-heroes in our TV culture?…Are we possibly setting ourselves up to feel numb towards unsavory characters in real life?

Hey Guys! Here’s a Lifehacker tip on how to last longer during sex.

#HimToo speaks out! Turns out that his goofy mom’s goof is to blame for his sudden twitter notoriety. But his brother’s really happy about it.

Faux-cest porn–made by a woman.  Super-angsty guilt driven porn is the hot new trend–all you Stepbrother romance readers out there ready for this?

A new self-help book written by a black woman & Why Saggy Boobs Matter

Are you gassing up your friends? Man Repeller.com speaks to this friendship trend.

 

A Super-Sexy Shifter Hero in ARROWS OF THE HEART

12 Oct

by Madeline Iva

Shifter alert! Jeffe Kennedy talks to us about her just released ARROWS OF THE HEART which includes a sexy play-ah hero.  Go git that bad boy today!

Shapeshifters are super sexy – isn’t that true?

All that delicious animal nature and passion guided by human intellect. And the magical ability that gives them all that shimmering power, beauty, and near-immortality. The shapeshifters in my Twelve Kingdoms and Uncharted Realms books are the Celtic variety. Not weres, they are true shapeshifters with the ability to take on multiple forms. The most accomplished and magical among them are able to shift into the greatest variety of forms.

And, yes, they’re sexy.

Though there’s always that line. You know the one, between shapeshifter sex and, well, bestiality. Because nobody likes bestiality. It’s the ultimate lack of consent – as animals can’t consent – and it’s pretty much just icky.

So, most of the time, when we’re writing shapeshifter stories with smexy goodness, sex occurs only in human form.

ARROWS OF THE HEART is written from the perspective of Karyn, a woman exiled from her (decidely non-magical) home country, who falls in love with a shapeshifter. Zyr, irreverent, mischievous, a self-proclaimed excellent lover and happy to share his skills. He is a powerful shapeshifter, too, one of the most prolific of his generation, and able to take many different forms—including a gryphon.

A gorgeous, powerful, sleek black gryphon.

Though Karyn comes from a culture where women remain virgins until marriage – and she’s steadfastly clung to her “honor” – she doesn’t stand a chance against Zyr’s seductive charms. Especially when he wins her heart.

But along the way, they’re on a critical quest to stop a looming war. Just the two of them, for days on end, with Karyn riding on Zyr’s back.

This cover is breath taking. See the giant black gryphon in the back? Click to buy.

I thought about those lines. She’s a human. He’s a gryphon, with a feline body. People, he can purr.

Now, any woman who’s ridden a horse can vouch for the sensuality of the experience. Imagine if that steed had the heart and intelligence of a charming person, and could purr. Imagine what happens if he can selectively shapeshift parts of his body while in human form. So he’s still human but we also get to experience his purr, a raspy tongue, and what the ability to selectively enlarge parts of his body can do…

So, yeah. I totally had to go there!

Because THE ARROWS OF THE HEART is a fantasy romance, the quest takes precedence. And Karyn is an honorable woman, not easily swayed or seduced. But they get there.

It’s totally hot.

Jeffe Kennedy is the author of an award-winning fantasy romance trilogy The Twelve Kingdoms which includes Book 1, The Mark of the TalaThe Tears of the Rose and The Talon of the Hawk. Two more books followed in this world, beginning the spin-off series The Uncharted Realms. Book one in that series, The Pages of the Mind, was nominated for the RT Reviewer’s Choice Best Fantasy Romance of 2016 and won RWA’s 2017 RITA® Award.

Her other works include the fantasy romance novels of A Covenant of Thorns; the contemporary BDSM novellas of the Facets of Passion; an erotic contemporary serial novel, Master of the Opera; and the erotic romance trilogy, Falling Under, which includes Going Under, Under His Touch and Under Contract.

Jeffe lives in Santa Fe, New Mexico, with two Maine coon cats, plentiful free-range lizards and a very handsome Doctor of Oriental Medicine.

Find her at her website: JeffeKennedy.com, every Sunday at the popular SFF Seven blog, on Facebook, on Goodreads and pretty much constantly on Twitter @jeffekennedy.

 

 

 

Seasons of Sorcery: Fab Fantasy Anthology–Check it out!

12 Oct

by Madeline Iva

seasons of sorcery

This cover is scrum-i-licious! And these female fantasy authors are fabulous — you’ll seriously want to check out the pre-order.

The amazon link doesn’t give us any info about the authors, so let me introduce you to ones that I’m familiar with:

Grace Draven is a USA Today Best Selling Author.  I saw her in person in Houston a few weeks ago at a book signing with Illona Andrews–the husband wife team who write under that name.  The event was at a fabulous bookstore called Murder By The Book--if you live in or near Houston you’ll want to visit.

Grace Draven is tres charming in person. Readers at the event commented on their love of the way she creates gripping battle scenes in her novels.

Grace Draven at Book signing

Grace Draven on the right, speaks at a book talk with good friends Illona and Gordon–who together write as Illona Andrews.

It turns out Grace’s husband Patrick is her ace in the hole.  He is into the ye olde thing *big time*.  He owns a collection of antique swords which are displayed around the house (even in the bathroom!)  She doesn’t look far for fight scene inspiration and he critiques her scenes for authenticity.

Jeffe Kennedy is an author I’ve become familiar with in romance circles. Her book covers just keep getting better! Last summer she won a big ole RITA award from the national romance association.  See our other blog post on her latest book ARROWS OF THE HEART –it was just released yesterday.

We’ve talked about Amanda Bouchet before on Lady Smut.  She had a smashingly successful debut with her KINGMAKER CHRONICLES series a few years ago.  She writes strong heroines with all the romance feels.  You’ll also lurv her world building chops.

Anthologies are made to introduce us to new authors and for me, the new author in this bunch is Jennifer Estes. I hadn’t heard of her before. I’m excited to get my hands on a copy of the anthology in order to check her out.  If any of you out there have read any of the authors above and want to share what you think, I’m all ears. Please comment below or on our LadySmut facebook page.

Madeline Iva is a fantasy author who writes characters that like to play in the shadows.  Join her cult following newsletter or her new Gothic Lair on fb.  Check out Madeline’s other Lady Smut blog posts.

 

 

 

 

SKYE WARREN writes Dark Romance Crack

8 Oct
Skye Warren's Survival of the Richest dark romance

Click to buy Skye Warren’s latest book.

by Madeline Iva

DESPERATION AND DANGER IN A BOTTLE: There are certain elements of dark romance that are compelling. The heroine’s life is about to fall off a cliff–is falling–has fallen.  It’s a familiar feeling, people.  If you’ve been there too, you know how it is. While everything is absolutely horrible at the same time you feel very alive. You’re in the jungle, emotionally speaking. Desperation heightens all your senses.  It’s a heady thing, struggling to survive the trauma/disaster/implosion of what was your life.  I don’t want to go back and live it over again–but reading dark romance puts me right back in those feels.  Cue the music–Hello darkness my old friend.  

Few writers have the talent to re-create those feels on the page–but Skye is one of them.  It’s addictive to pop into that heightened state for a few hours, always knowing you can pop right out again and lay the kindle down.

THE SQUIRMY FACTOR: Skye Warren manages to combine all those feels with settings of luxury and wealth.  A very heady combo.  THEN SHE JUST GOES THERE sex-wise. Oy.  What intensity.  It’s the kind of romance that makes you feel like squirrels are fighting in your tummy. One of Skye’s teasers on facebook referenced how the inexperienced heroine’s throat was sore–from the rough sex she’d been having with the hero. (!!!) That teaser put me into a sex-daze for weeks.

trust fund dark romance book cover skye warren

TRUST FUND is the book Skye is offering new readers for free–right now.

Along with Pam Godwin, Skye Warren really knows how to keep us in the vulnerable-desperate-and-need-to-survive situation.  I don’t even know exactly how she does it. Sometimes what she’s writing is really raw yet I’m with her inch by inch. My eyeballs are practically cutting into the page wanting more More MORE.

SKYE WARREN’S BOOKS ARE DARK ROMANCE CRACK–SO TRY ONE ALREADY.  You can do so for free. Go to SKY WARREN’S WEBSITE. Go to the bottom of the page where it says SIGN UP FOR THE VIP READER LIST.  Add your email.  Get the free copy of your book and start reading.

*They’re serials. You’ll read one and wind up buying two or three more.

Madeline Iva writes characters who like to play in the shadows.  She writes fantasy, gothic, and paranormal stories.  Join her Gothic Lair. Check out Madeline’s Lady Smut blog posts.

Sexy Saturday Round Up

5 Oct

Sexy Saturday Round UpBy Elizabeth Shore

Nothing like a fall chill in the air to get our blood running hot. Warm apple cider, cozy sweaters, and sexy reads – or a movies! –  will do the trick. And for a bit of inspiration, check out our round-up this weekend. We bet it’ll get your blood running hot, too.

Bradley Cooper, Lady Gaga…we sure are happy these stars were born. And did somebody around here say Academy Award? Trust us, there’s buzz…

OK, let’s just get this over with. #MeToo girls, we’ve still got work to do. Lots of it.

At work and horny and don’t know what to do? Start with these suggestions.

Slumber parties aren’t what they used to be! Now they can come with sex ed lessons.

Cotton vagina – the downside of smoking too much weed.

Love and sex in China – where there are waaaaay too many men.

The 50 best and worst fall foods. According to men, that is.

Overwhelemed, overstressed, and wanting to be over it. How to take care of yourself emotionally.

Here’s a way to save some money – stop with the vitamin D supplements. Besides, they don’t work.

Here’s one for the guys: the science behind low-hanging balls.

Orgasmic meditation. It’s a thing.

 

Spanking the White House Gets an Award

28 Sep

By Elizabeth SaFleur

I’ve often said this book was the best-timed or the worst-timed book of my career. The jury is still out on the verdict. But, look! The BDSM Writers Con awarded the White House Gets A Spanking with a Golden Flogger Award in the Best Female Dominant/Male Submissive book category.

Check out the full list of winners. Never say we don’t help you add to your mountainous TBR pile. There are some fabulous reads there!

About The White House Gets A Spanking

The last place Washington D.C. investigative journalist Stella Martin wanted to cover was the White House. But when a friend’s request to watch over her latest submissive plaything when she’s out of town turns out to be the White House Communications Director, Stella’s unwelcomed and unbearable assignment becomes quite interesting.

Laird Harkness hadn’t expected his perfect Domme would show up in his office—the most famous house in the world and a place where his secret desires could end his career. Stella calms his fears, but can she sate his craving to submit, serve and belong to someone?

READ AN EXCERPT

Now on Kindle Unlimited!

REVIEWS

“…if you enjoy BDSM stories you will be enthralled…”

“…put this on the top of your reading pile…”

“…will rev you up and have you twisting in your seat. This one is chocked full of exhilarating scenes…”

“…a page turner with a fascinating, confident female protagonist and an equally interesting male sub…”

“…a rare glimpse into the Femme Domme, male submissive dynamic…”

Donald Glover: TV’s Most Interesting Man

21 Sep

by Madeline Iva

Hola Chicas! I’m baaaaaaaack! and here today to talk to you about Donald Glover, TV’s most interesting man.  Yeah, I didn’t see him coming either.

But you gotta admit, he’s quietly provocative and thoughtful.  Put those two qualities together and I’m thinking he’s kinda sexy, you know? It wasn’t until THE MARTIAN when I really noticed him for the first time.  Every time he walked on screen the movie became three times more interesting.  His intelligence and understated persona plucked him out of the realm of character actors and presented us with something understated, yet compelling. (Also I’m a sucker for interesting genius geek types.)

Did you see SOLO — in which Glover played Lando Calrissian.  Did he have the Billy Dee magic? Eh. There’s only one Billy Dee. But who cares? Glover’s got his own something something going on.

He is an actor who’s at his best playing off other excellent actors. His role thrilled me and chilled me when it became clear (to all people over the age of twelve at least) that Lando was having a sexual relationship with his robot, L3-37.  She’s not even an android, technically. Yet Lando is *clearly* having great Robot Sex with her. This is a sub-plot worthy of it’s own blog post–I’ll get to it in the weeks ahead.Lando and L3

Then I saw Glover’s video in his alternative rap star persona: Childish Gambino.  Should I just assume you’ve all seen this video and found it interesting and kind of looked up stuff on the internet about it like I have? (I always feel so late to the party.) — Anyway, in case you haven’t — here it is:

Okay — so at this point I’m a solid Donald Glover fan.  Whatever he’s saying–I want to hear it.

Meanwhile, his TV show ALTANTA is edgy, rumpled, and nonchalantly cool.  His character, Earn is a man of different facets.  He’s certainly flawed–Earn sometimes lets his frustrations paint him into a corner he can’t get out of. At the same time he’s adroit, loyal, and solution-minded.  The show has an edge of humor, and a swirl of racism that forms the backdrop of the world he lives in. I liiiiiiiiike him.  I mean, bonus points and gold stars all around for representing a complex, multi-dimensional character and a world I haven’t seen before.  The fact that the show was created, written and directed by him has lifted his reputation up by about twelve notches.  And the show? I never know really what’s going to happen next, which can offset the wince-y pain of watching the lives of black folk exposed to the pervasive racism in America.

So WHAT THE HECK Emmys? Seriously? Not even best actor this year? At least last year he won for best actor and best director.  I was not surprised to see that the casting director was up for an award–for the cast is fabu.  Zazie Beetz, btw, plays his love interest on the show. She is also one of the best, most interesting actresses kicking around these days. (You might have also seen her in Deadpool 2.)

ATLANTA is frequently humorous in terms of juxtaposed contexts. The characters walk their own crooked path trying to get somewhere when they see an opportunity.  Along the way they make pit-stops to survey the swampy landscape studded with family members stuck in the muck.  The show has a so-funny-it’s-awful tone that I slurp up with relish.

I also found the editing from episode to episode interesting across the season.  Characters plop down into being, go away, come back. The show raises issues, end unresolved, and then leap onto another pathway in the next episode.  One could argue that form follows content–the show jumps in the same way that Glover’s character Earn experiences his fortunes rise and fall as his client and cousin finds bits of success on the path to leave drug dealing for the rap world.  Even his name — Earn — short for Earnest, no doubt, has it’s own Dickensian poke in the viewers gut invoking rap myth-making, the music industry, and money.

The best part of the show is how it reveals issues or complex situations for us to chew upon, but never tries to tell us how to think or feel about them.  Glover is the anti-Sorkin of TV.  Check it out — and check out below the way Glover showed up to the Emmy’s as a creepy character from his show….

You can watch Season One of ATLANTA on:

AMAZON (May be the cheapest price right now)

YOU TUBE

REDBOX *

or via HULU subscription

Redbox is still in beta with streaming TV shows.  Be aware that sometimes your viewing can be interrupted.

—-And continue to check out Lady Smut where we will always share with you our edgy obsessions.

Madeline Iva enjoys penning stories about reclusive guys with dark secrets in mouldering castles.  If you like your gothic gloom with a fantasy or paranormal twist join her cult following newsletter.

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