Here is the blurb.
Many years ago that filthy book imprinted itself in my erotic subconscious. Now it’s reared its head and is about to drag me along for the dirtiest ride of my life.
It seemed Lady Luck had joined us for our journey, giving the green light for all our needs to be met only three days after my confession of what I really wanted him to do with that branch.
Jacob’s parents had asked if they could take the girls to a circus on Saturday night. It started at eight, didn’t finish until ten, so they’d suggested it was more sensible that they keep them until Sunday morning, possibly Sunday afternoon if the children fancied having a roast dinner with them at the local pub.
I was not about to turn that opportunity down, especially when Jacob had been hot for the idea of outside sex. In fact, he’d been more than up for it, and the excited glint in his eye when I’d held up the carefully stripped bark had sent a tremble to my very core. Something told me I’d hit another very dark and very sinful nerve of his.
But always one to think of others, Jacob had already promised to help a work colleague move house on the Saturday. I didn’t mind too much because it left me with an empty afternoon to prepare for our evening of fun. I started with a pamper accompanied by a glass of wine, treating myself to a cucumber face mask, sugar body scrub, shave—including my pussy—manicure and pedicure and finally a generous slathering of body butter.
It left me feeling tingly and smooth, as if my body was honed and prepared. The thought of my silky, clean skin and perfectly neat red nails out in the open, amongst dirt and leaves, with the sootiness of bark mould smudged randomly over my body had me panting with excitement. I could just imagine mud squelching around my toes and the creamy skin of my wrists worn red by ropes. And the image of my arse marked raw by the branch, well, that had me feeling like a sacrificial offering.
For I knew that this evening I would be handing myself over to nature, to Jacob, and to my own darkest desires. The bare bones of my soul were about to be revealed. No holds barred, no chance to hide. They were the very skeleton of me that only Jacob would ever set eyes on.
When the dipping sun sent lilac and crimson fingers darting over the horizon I was ready—more than ready. I’d had a light tea and another glass of wine, resisted the temptation to masturbate—just—and saved myself for my husband.
The front door opened with a whoosh, then shut with a resounding slam. I spun from the kitchen window where I’d been staring at the darkening copse.
The copse that was ready and waiting.
Heavy footsteps banged down the hall. Loud and resolute, the sound reverberated around my head.
This was it. There was no turning back.
I didn’t want to. Not for anything.
The door swung open, and there he stood, with his broad shoulders filling the frame and his head bowed slightly. He pulled his brows low and set his jaw. A small muscle flexed and unflexed in his cheek.
"Get down on your knees, bitch."
I gasped at the completely thrilling sound of his bad man’s voice and folded my legs until my knees landed on the freshly swept lino. He was so feral, so dominant, not Jacob the protector, the carer. No, tonight I had Jacob the master, the taker, the giver of sinful pleasure.
Between one breath and the next he was in front of me, his groin level with my face and his hands on his hips. The scent of man and hard physical work washed over me, as well as perhaps a hint of a greasy spoon cafe where he’d no doubt been treated to pie and chips for the efforts of his day.
"Take out my cock."
I reached for the buttons on his jeans, surprised to see that my hands trembled. Excitement? Trepidation?
This had not been part of any plan, but I wasn’t complaining. In fact, there wasn’t a plan. All Jacob had asked was that I trust him. He said that he understood what I wanted and would make it all happen for me. Of course, we had a safe word, but I couldn’t imagine I would need it. I trusted Jacob with my life and my pleasure. I always would.
"Hurry up," he said, tangling his fingers in my neatly brushed, softly conditioned hair. "Take it out and suck it."
After I freed his cock, his length sprang into my palm, hot and thick, and the purple veins winding up the shaft bulged with his keen arousal.
In a sharp movement, he jerked forward and the tip slid into my salivating mouth. "Wider, whore," he snarled. "Take me, all of me."
I stretched my jaw and he sank deep, sliding to the back of my throat in one urgent movement. I gagged but he ignored it; pulled back then rode in again, all the time holding my head in a tight, vice-like grip so I had no choice but to take him, tip to base.
I’d sucked on Jacob’s cock a million times, but never had he taken control like this. He was always respectful and deathly still, allowing me to determine depth and pace. But this was different—this was sinful, depraved Jacob fucking my mouth without a thought for my well-being.
I adored it.
Needing support as my body was jostled by his thrusting hips, I gripped his thighs. Saliva ran down my face and neck onto my red blouse, my nose repeatedly buried in his wiry pubic hair. He steamed on and on, hissing and cursing above me. Breathing was difficult, my mouth was so chock-full of hard, demanding cock. When I did catch a breath the air was heated and smelt of him, musky and raw.
"Get fucking ready for it," he snarled, thrusting to such a depth his balls slapped against my chin. "I’m going to come down your throat. I’m going to fill you up, now...argh...fuck...now."
He let out a garrotted cry as his cock swelled further, then, in several sweet pulses, copious amounts of fluid gushed over my tongue. I swallowed rapidly, the action tugging the crown of his cock further down my throat.
"Ah, sweet...fucking...Jesus," he hissed, gripping my hair. "That’s it, keep sucking, swallow me."
I did as he asked. My body quivered, and I could almost come myself just from the feel and taste of him climaxing so hard and forcefully. Had he lain there all those millions of times I’d sucked him off, restraining himself? Had he wanted to throw me down and fuck my mouth in a hard, abandoned way, but resisted?
I didn’t have time to dwell on this because Jacob pulled out, gripped my upper arms and dragged me into a standing position. Gasping, I stared into his flushed face. His mouth was parted as he drew in big lungfuls of air. His eyes sparkled, the pupils wide and dilated, showing me the dark depths of his most basic needs.
"That’s just the beginning," he said in a rasping, breathy voice. "To take the edge off what you’ve had me thinking of for three days." He slanted his mouth down hard over mine, taking possession of my lips and tongue in a furious, ravenous kiss. He pulled away abruptly. "You’re such a tease," he muttered, "tempting me, turning me on. Well, now you’re going to get it. You’re going to get punished for making a man want you so bad it hurts his soul."
I have a confession to make…
Okay, that’s perhaps a bit overly dramatic for the simple fact that I have absolutely no idea how my characters actually look like when I write them, but there you have it. I’m a writer of erotica with practically no visual imagination.
I have no idea. Ever. There is nothing beyond words. No faces, no voices, just the words that start in my head and, sometimes, end up in the story I actually write down.
I don’t even play the game of pretending what actor would be perfect for the role, because I honestly wouldn’t know whom to pick. Of course, I’ll give some indicators like general build, colour of hair and eyes, age, but that’s mainly for the benefit of the readers. You guessed it, to me brown eyes, brown hair and medium build are words, nothing more. I wouldn’t recognise the men I created if they bumped into me while I’m doing the groceries in the local supermarket.
That does mean that when I get to see the cover art for the first time it’s always such a nice surprise. Someone else has “hired the actors” and the choice for my first two TEB titles has been excellent. I know I can trust Posh Gosh blindly to find the faces I can’t see, and that’s a talent I admire immensely.
Even though I’ve written dozens of books, it’s always a bit of a mystery.
Who are my protagonists? (I have to keep a list of all the names I’ve used before. I tend to like the same names, so it’s not unusual for me to want to re-use them. Also, a lot of times, characters from my last book are still fresh in my mind. There’s a temptation just to name the characters those names!)
I generally start with an idea, a concept…what if a high-profile tightly strung lawyer likes to play BDSM games? What if the lawyer is a woman who is accustomed to being in control? But wait, would a woman with that personality type really want to play BDSM games? Does that fit? Well…sort of…. I bet she’s like to be in control of the game.
I bet she’d like to set up who she played with, when she played with them, and I bet she’d know exactly what she wanted.
In this instance, because of her personality, she likely doesn’t have a permanent relationship.
(Hmm…all of a sudden, a new idea is occurring, what about writing a book where the heroine is large and in charge does have a Dom who demands total submission outside the courtroom….but what’s the internal conflict…? See, there I go! Writing a new book is a bit like chasing a butterfly! A new idea comes along and I want to follow it, too!)
For this book (back on track), my heroine…oh, wait, she needs a name…what kind of name works for a lawyer…? Victoria! Definitely not Vickie. (Gotta think about nicknames, too, right? And can’t use a name I’ve used before. Names, to me, help define characters.) Oh, yeah, then hero names…
Well, what if Victoria sets up her own experience every so often, like, once a year or so. What if she has a huge limits list? What if she pays really good money for the scene?
And what if a man she doesn’t know shows up to dominate her?
How would she react?
And how would the Dom react to her less-than-respectful shock?
What if her regular Dom is only temporarily unavailable? What if the other Dom also wants to dominate her? What does a woman who wants to control things is suddenly, totally out of control….?
Lust Bites: Her Two Doms…coming 25 June from Total-E-Bound
Over the years of dating more than a few of the sexy musicians who call Music City home, The Green Room was born. Here's a naughty little snippet:
The Peabody in Memphis had seen more than its share of musicians, so hardly anyone noticed us as we walked through the lobby. He was surprised at the lavishness of the hotel. I decided he had dealt with enough long nights without air conditioning. Just one was enough for me.
“You don’t need that other room,” he said to me when I took two keys from the front desk. I simply shrugged and put one of the keys in my pocket. I handed the other to him. He didn’t know how to thank me. I knew he didn’t have to.
In the elevator, he asked, “Do you do this often?”
“Go on the road with strange men?”
“Am I a strange man?”
I snorted with laughter.
“I mean, how often do you give that little push? That foot in the door?”
“Only when I feel like someone hasn’t had a fair shake. Which isn’t that often. Most people who believe they have it really don’t.”
“And I do?”
“You have more than anyone else I have ever seen.”
He looked at me, waiting for more. I looked right back.
“What?” I challenged. “Need an ego stroke?”
“Seriously, though. Why are you here?”
I thought about it for a moment. “I chase what I believe in. I make no apologies, no excuses and no promises. But I can tell you this—you will have that foot in the door. The rest is up to you.”
He reached into my pocket and took my room key.
“You won’t need this,” he said.
* * * *
The water in the Jacuzzi was too hot. The bubbles were on low, just enough to disturb the shiny surface. His hands under the water were slick and seductive, touching one place, then another. Then all the right places.
“God, yes,” I murmured, letting my head fall back. My hair was wet. I clenched the smooth rails on the sides of the tub. His tongue was almost as hot as the water. The first orgasm he gave me was strong enough to make me jerk with surprise, hard enough to make water slosh out onto the tiled floor.
He came up for air, breathing hard.
I had to return the favour. His body was even hotter than the water. I drank of him until I couldn’t breathe, then I came up for air. His hands in my hair forced me down again.
So that is how he is, I thought.
We abandoned the Jacuzzi and made our way to the bed. I settled on my back and looked up at him. He lifted my legs high over his shoulders. He paused, taunting me. He held steady until I looked into his eyes.
“I’m going to fuck you every night that you’re out here with me,” he said. “I’m going to fuck you until we can’t take any more of each other, then I’m going to tie you down and fuck you some more. I will make every moment of your investment worthwhile.”
He thrust forward, impaling me completely. I cried out with the thrill of it.
“I don’t need a return on my investment,” I managed.
“You’ll get one anyway.”
He was thick and long enough to hit bottom. The twinge of pain every time was more than welcome. I raked my nails down his back, sucked on his fingers, yanked his hair and made him move faster. He threw his head back and let me have every ounce of power within him. The thrusts drove me up the bed.
The orgasm was building. I let it come. I let myself rock and buck and thrash under him until the intensity was too much, so much that I begged him to stop.
My scream was muffled against his hand as I came. He thrust a few more times and pulled out.
When he straddled me, I closed my eyes.
He groaned deeply and thrust forward when he came, and I had the sudden thought that out in the world of notes and buses and labels and music, he held the guitar but I held the cards. In this world, the one of bodies and sweat and heated flesh, he could take over.
That sounded like a good deal to me.
I licked the salty drops from my lips. It slid down my throat, my chest.
The leather of his belt circled my wrists. I let him bind me to the old-fashioned headboard.
I thought about the fact I had met him only two days before.
David crossed my mind, and I wondered when I had stopped caring.
“Welcome to the big time,” I said.
That's just the beginning of things between Anthony and Janey -- it gets hotter!
Here's the shameless plug: Find out more here.
I’m so excited to see the dull gray of winter fading beneath the peeking sunshine! I’m looking forward to warmer temps outside, butterflies, beautiful flowers, the smell of cut grass and working on some super hot stories!
There’s just something about sunshine and sex...mix the two together and you have a bit of magic!
Here’s a little scene from As You Desire containing both:
Lona closed her eyes as Rafi’s head blocked out the sun and his lips touched hers. He kissed her gently at first, caressing her lips with his tongue as he laid her back against the blanket. Lona revelled in the feel of him, so strong and warm pressed against her body as they lay side by side. She settled her head in the cradle of his arm around her neck as he deepened the kiss. His tongue tasted of cinnamon and Lona moaned with need as she returned his kiss, craving so much more from him.
“I want to kiss you everywhere,” Rafi whispered in her ear.
“And I want you to.”
She wanted to make a beautiful memory to remember him by…something to cherish after he said goodbye and walked out of her life. A strangled sound erupted from her throat at the thought of never seeing him again, but she pushed back that thought as she reached for the buttons on Rafi’s shirt. She wouldn’t think about anything else right now but being with him.
“I want you naked.”
Rafi laughed as he sat up to slide his shirt off his shoulders, revealing tanned muscles worthy of tongue-worship.
“Lona, I think you’re reading my thoughts.”
His wavy, dark hair gleamed in the sunlight as Lona moved up onto her knees and leaned in towards Rafi to kiss his collarbone.
“Then you know I want to kiss you everywhere, too.”
Lona opened her mouth, dropped her head and flicked her tongue over Rafi’s nipple. She smiled against his skin at his sharp intake of breath.
“Damn it, Lona, you’re asking for more than just my kiss if you do that again.”
Without hesitation, Lona encircled his other nipple with her tongue. She yelped as Rafi pulled her forward, knocking her off balance as they fell back onto the blanket with her on top of him. He slipped his hands beneath her sundress, up her thighs, over her waist, lifting the fabric to show her green panties. She helped him, taking the dress up over her head, feeling gloriously free as the scent of the water and honeysuckle carried in the wind blowing around them.
“Take this”—Rafi touched her protruding nipple through the cotton of her bra—“off.”
Lona reached behind her back, unclasped the bra and let it fall down her arms. She shifted her weight onto Rafi’s stomach, conscious of his lengthening cock nudging her stomach as he stared up at her.
What was he thinking?
“You’re gorgeous…you know that?”
Lona couldn’t respond as he lifted his hands to palm the heavy weight of her breasts. Her panties were soaked now as he stroked the rough pads of his thumbs back and forth across her sensitive nipples. Rafi gently tugged on the tips of her breasts, making her arch her back as she placed her hands on his chest. He abruptly grabbed her hips and rolled her to the side, covering her body with his own. His mouth latched on to her breast and Lona grabbed hold of his head, running her fingers through the thick strands of his hair as he teased her with his tongue and teeth. Only when both breasts had been given the same amount of wet kisses did he move lower, pressing his mouth to her belly and on the top of her panties.
“I’m so wet for you, Rafi.”
Her admission made something wild flare in his eyes.
May this spring bring you more than beautiful flowers...may it bring you more love, joy and a little magic!
My second story with Total-E-Bound will be released next month! The Realm of Passion is an FF short fantasy story that I am so excited to see come out. I was inspired to write it by thoughts of possession and transference of different kinds of spirits or "illnesses" I finally settled on the idea of a possession rather than an infection and wanted it to be a good rather than horrible sort of thing. So my heroine is possessed by the soul/energy of a fairy princess. The loss of which has had a negative impact on the fairy realm and is something the demons are searching for as hard as the fairies.
You can help me pack if you like. The following items are under consideration:
1. T-shirts and sleeveless tops (none of them have seen the light since the end of September because it was just too darn cold here).
2. a sun dress (I'm definitely packing one of those, even if the weather forecast predicts thunderstorms for the entire time of my stay)
3. flip-flops (oooh, my feet want to feel the sun too!)
4. a bathing suit - in case there's a pool. There should be a pool, don't you think? In fact, this is what I imagine it to look like:
5. shorts (the shortest ones I can find)
6. loose-fitting linen trousers (in case I can't go everywhere in short shorts)
7. sunscreen (because my skin is whiter than curd cheese at the moment)
What else should I pack? Let me know in the comments!
Also, has anyone ever tried getting toys (you know, the adult kind) through airport security in their hand luggage? Just curious...
I'll report back here on the 19th of next month with fresh memories of Florida.
Mina Dorian's Blog A DARK KIND OF DESIRE can be found here: http://minadorian.blogspot.com/
The list of things I want to do is varied. Enjoying the little moments spending time with my family. Talking with friends. Taking in a movie. A trip to the bookstore. A walk around neighborhood. Treating myself to a night out. These are just a few of the things I plan on doing. And I can since I have nothing but time.
What are some of the things you plan on doing?
…increasing the sizzle factor
Chat Group: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/crenshawcafe
St. Patrick's Day.
Been there, seen it, done it...wore the green shirt.
Today I thought I'd post a shameless plug for my next TEB release, 'Orion Rising'.
After finishing 'Stolen Summer' I honestly didn't think I had it in me to write another m/m novel. I really thought that SS was a one-off. I started working on a straightforward Sci-Fi/fantasy novel until life got in the way. I had a transatlantic move to organise, we had to find jobs, a place to live and just plain start all over again. By the time we'd settled in our new home, winter was on the way. It was our first proper winter in 9 years. We had snow, lots of snow and I loved it because I'd really missed snow.
Then I heard this song. A little 'scene' popped into my head. Two men in a dark, cold place frantic with a need to make love. They tore at each other's clothes between desperate kisses. How did they get to that point? Suddenly, I had a story to tell.
I had to build a world - England in 125 years, not the green and pleasant land we know and love, but a wintry nightmare of a place with wild storms. A land devoid of life, a waste of snow and dead, black trees and leaden grey skies. Then I had to explain why the world was this way and put my characters, Michael and Paul, into it. The story came together and 'Orion Rising' slowly fell together.
When I sent the finished novel to Rebecca, my editor, I was genuinely terrified. Would she like it? After all, it ain't 'Stolen Summer' - far from it. I waited nervously, stress-eating Sports Mixtures, Fruit Pastilles and Sherbet Lemons. I started work on another story and waited. Happily, she liked it and here we are, 9 days away from release.
I love Michael and Paul. I hope you like them too.
Michael and Paul fight to survive in a land frozen by endless winter. Will the ice between them thaw once and for all?
Michael Wright has given up thinking he’s anything more than a number-cruncher. When he’s summoned to verify the outcome of renowned meteorologist, Paul Clarkson’s latest research Michael is happy to escape the drudgery of a grey cubicle at the Met Office.
At Station 17 he finds himself working side by side with a brilliant scientist and charismatic man who stirs a lot more than respect. The attraction is mutual but, after a few snatched hours of passion, internal politics and a vengeful adversary tear them apart.
When Michael returns to Station 17 two years later he discovers that the world isn’t the only thing that’s changed. Paul is forbiddingly distant and the fire that once burned between them has turned to ice. The violence of deadly storm reignites their relationship - but will the disastrous aftermath of another destroy their love once and for all?
When I was much younger, I was asked to be in a stage production of the musical “Hair”. For those of you who aren’t familiar with it, there is a scene at the end of the first act where the entire cast gathers on stage completely nude. It was a statement during the peace and love era that said “all bodies are beautiful, you needn’t have any shame”. I guess I wasn’t buying that statement at the time, because I was much too embarrassed to agree to it. I couldn’t get past the sexual implications of it; there wasn’t the slightest chance I was going to parade around naked in front of a group of strangers – especially men.